The Life Nomadic

The Life Nomadic

Promised Land

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Author’s Note: This is an account of my experience on a recent flight from Mumbai to Abu Dhabi. If you’re unfamiliar with the phenomenon of guest workers in the Middle East, and other parts of the world, I suggest you do a quick internet search to become familiar with the concept. I have elected not to include a description here, as it is a sometimes hotly contested subject.

 

 

The Mumbai airport had not impressed me on my outbound flight, but as I made my way through the almost unbearable security line, this time alone, I inwardly seethed. I’d had to force my way through the crowds of men, who outnumbered the women by more than ten to one, to reach the line marked for ladies only. I had a fleeting thought of pity, as those men, with their furtive eyes and faces composed of sharp angles, would be waiting for a very long time.

I’d no sooner turned the corner to head down the stairs to my gate than the smell of piss slapped my face like a dubiously moist blanket. All of those same furtive eyes, now owned by different people, that had avoided my gaze at security found their way to me as I looked for a seat. The gate that marked the threshold for the flight to Abu Dhabi was packed with bodies. I stood as inconspicuously as possible, which is impossible as I’m tall and blonde and in India, and sipped my soda while I surveyed the crowd. I was one of only three or four women in the gate area.

I tried to remove the ugly thoughts of gang rape from my mind. I’m not that person, I don’t assume things about people, and certainly not potentially immediate threats of brutal violence simply because I’m in India, and simply because it’s just happened. Recently. Very recently.

So, naturally, in an attempt to prove that I’m not that person, I move on to assuming other things about my fellow passengers. Why are they going to Abu Dhabi? The couples in Emirati national dress? They are young and carrying stylish hand luggage. They live there. The Western men in shorts carrying backpacks and camera cases? Tourists, or possibly a layover to somewhere else. The rest of the 200+ passengers? South Asian men. They’re going to work.

The  room is filled with those same eyes and faces I dismissed at security. Now they’re right in front of me. Most of them wear the same white ball caps, emblazoned with the logo of some Nepalese agency, and the word “manpower” features prominently across the front. I know what those agencies do, or at least I’ve heard the stories. All of us who live in Abu Dhabi have heard the stories.

The men under those caps are young, very young. I’d hazard to guess that none of them are over 21, and I wonder how many of them are not even 18. Their eyes shine brightly with a mash-up of excitement, bewilderment and fear. They jostle with each other, that universal boyishness bubbling to the surface, then they stop, as if trying to assert that they are men now. Men don’t do those things. Especially not men who are embarking on a trip to a new life, a dream realized.

I wonder what they think is going to happen. I wonder what they’ve been told about their new lives in Abu Dhabi. I wonder how many of them have been on a plane before this fateful trip. I wonder if they’ll regret it.

As the gate agents finally call for the passengers to line up, so we can climb aboard the bus that will deposit us at the plane, I find myself in line behind one of those Westerners. He hitches up his shorts and clutches his camera to his chest as he turns to make small talk with me. He jerks his head toward the 200+ in identical, cheap ball caps.

“Are they some sort of Boy Scout group or something?” he says with a laugh.

“No, they’re workers,” I reply.

“What kind of workers?” he asks, a hard edge creeping into his voice.

“Laborers”, I admit, not enjoying that word and its connotations at all.

“Oh, right. I’ve heard stories about that. Laborers in Abu Dhabi, I mean,” he says, as we hand over our boarding passes.

As the plane heaves itself into the air, I surreptitiously eye my seat mate. This is the final leg of his journey and he orders the free scotch with his meal. He squeezes his eyes shut as he sips it.  I’ll never know why he savored that small portion of scotch like he did. I like to think that he has a grand idea of what men who are off to the unknown do; visions of a prospective fortune in a sparkling foreign land call for a plastic cup of cheap scotch.

The airplane lumbers over the Abu Dhabi area on its final approach, and the passengers fly into animated chatter, with their faces earnestly pressed to the windows. I also throw a glance at the landscape below, and realize that we are flying directly over Yas Island, and the stunning Yas Viceroy Hotel comes into view, its huge and otherworldly LED display illuminating the night. The chatter escalates to very audible oohs and aahs, and I wonder what they’re thinking about this place that they’ll likely not have a chance to see again;  a place that I can visit whenever I like.

The minute the seat belt sign chimes off, I bolt for the front of the plane. My Abu Dhabi International sprint and dodge skills are wonderfully honed, and I arrived at immigration very near the front of the line. I looked behind me as all of those men filed in, their white ball caps in place, papers clutched carefully in their hands, the excitement on their faces replaced with anxiety, and the chatter and tussling reduced to whispers and nudges. An immigration official came by, calling for resident visa holders, and I was swept away and whisked through the line. I received my stamp, collected my bag, met my husband, and went home.

I should have looked back, at least once. I should have tried to memorize at least one face. I should have asked for one name. I would like to know where he ends up. I wonder if he’s happy. I wonder if this is everything he dreamed it would be, when he was in the Mumbai airport and his smile spoke of excitement and his eyes were still alive.

But I didn’t look back. I didn’t ask. I just went home. And as we passed through the gate of our housing compound, I realized that I didn’t need to ask. I have the answer right in front of me. The man who opens the gate for us was one of those men, just a year or two ago. He jostled with his buddies before boarding his flight to Abu Dhabi. He ordered the scotch too, because that’s what worldly men are supposed to do. He stood at immigration, waiting for that stamp of acceptance in his stiffly new passport. He smiles and waves as we pass through, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s only a mechanical twitch of muscles, nothing more.

I wonder if he still has his ball cap.


One Year in the Desert

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been one year that we’ve lived in Abu Dhabi. One year of blistering heat and murderous sun, one year of travel opportunities in this part of the world, and one year of continuing this wonderful lifestyle of ours.

I had originally intended on presenting this as a list of my likes and dislikes in regards to Abu Dhabi and the UAE. However, I’ve realized that many of the things that I like about this part of the world are a direct result of the things that I don’t like about it. So, after careful consideration, I have amassed a number of thoughts on the things I like about the year in the desert and I present them to you, in no particular order, for your perusal.

 

 

 

Abu Dhabi International Airport: I have to put this at the top of the list for many reasons. One is that it is a very nice airport. Secondly, it’s only ten minutes from our house, which has made it very convenient when we absolutely had to escape this city over the last year, which we did many, many times. Additionally, air fares are more than reasonable and an abundance of local holidays have made travel a breeze. Abu Dhabi is nice, but fancy hotels and shiny malls can wear a bit thin. We spent more time exploring other parts of the world than we did Abu Dhabi, and I’m okay with that. Will I ever again have the chance to spend a weekend at Chernobyl? Most likely not.

Electricity: Many sources put the United Arab Emirates in the top five countries for global carbon dioxide emissions, mainly due to the fact that natural gas is the primary fuel for the generation of electricity. It’s not surprising that this country needs so much power, as everything is air conditioned. Everything. Like the indoor ski slope and some parking garages at those shiny malls. I am, by nature, very frugal with power and water but I must admit that I’ve never been more thankful for electricity in my life. The heat here is unfathomable, and while I am judicious with my a/c usage, I do use it with much love.

Culture: One thing that I’ve noticed is a distinct lack of culture in the UAE, at least in comparison to some of the other countries in the Middle East that we’ve visited, such as Jordan and Egypt. Unless, that is, you count a rapid transformation from Bedouin to filthy rich as a culture, and I think that sociologists and anthropologists could have fun exploring that metamorphosis. I, personally, have found more culture within the communities of foreigners who have come here to chase a dream. The Indians, the Bangladeshis, the Pakistanis, the Filipinos and the Malays have carved a niche for themselves and their cultures, and they celebrate their customs with joy. I like that.

Beauty: There is beauty in the bleak of the desert, and I find much that is beautiful here. The Arab women are stunning, and the inky black of their robes only serve to highlight their gorgeous features, smoky eyes, and their stunning shoes  that peek from beneath. The Emirati men have never made white look so good, and they should have a monopoly on aviator sunglasses, as I’ll now never be able to appreciate that look on anyone else. The waters of the Arabian Gulf are a shade of blue that rivals, and sometimes beats, those of the Caribbean Sea, and sand dunes are made up of too many colors to count, if you look closely enough. The amazing architecture of Abu Dhabi and Dubai is stunning to look at, but I have found more beauty in the simplicity of this part of the world.

It’s So Easy: I think that a lot of people have some preconceived notions about living in the Middle East, and many of those are spot on. After all, this part of the world is not necessarily the easiest for westerners to adapt to. However, the UAE is uniquely welcoming, and sometimes I think life here is more American than in America. Staples like alcohol and pork are easily obtained, as are most other products that expats desire, as most everything is imported from Europe. Bars and clubs all over the city woo partygoers with glitz and glamour, and water parks and roller coasters tempt with expensive thrills. It’s in many ways a dream land, until that summertime heat slaps your head and screams, “Wake up!”

 

 

As things stand now, we’ll be in this part of the world for another year. However, as many of you who know us can attest, that is subject to change at a moment’s notice. Am I ready for another twelve months in the desert? Yes and no, but the time has taught me a lot about myself and a part of the world that I never thought I’d become intimate with.

First and foremost, I have learned that I like Abu Dhabi, but I also like leaving it from time to time.

 

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

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What's wrong here?
What’s wrong here?

 

What’s wrong with this picture? At first glance, it seems as if very little is wrong with it. Just two women, enjoying a walk around a cultural site. However, the larger picture tells a very different story. The cultural site these women are visiting is Wat Phra Kaew, one of the holiest Buddhist sites in Thailand, and the woman on the right is quite disrespectfully under-dressed. What makes this photo even more damning is that she would have been issued a shawl upon arrival, and had she refused it at that time, she would have been denied entry into the temple complex. I can only surmise that she removed the shawl as soon as she felt the coast was clear, effectively telling the Thai people that she has no respect for their religious culture. None. And if that isn’t a hearty “fuck you”, I don’t know what is.

Some of the most visited sites in the world pertaining to ancient history and culture are religious ones. Mosques, churches, synagogues and temples all over the globe have endured wars, the elements, and much more to become popular with tourists, but to the people whose faith these structures represent, they are much more than a place to take photos and check off of the bucket lists.

All too often I see tourist deliberately flaunting the rules of various religious sites. When I was in Istanbul last year I was so very excited to see the Blue Mosque. As we left our hotel for the day, I made sure that I had a long-sleeved sweater and a scarf in my bag, so I could cover up appropriately for my visit to the mosque. We neared the front of the line to enter the mosque, and I noticed female volunteers distributing scarves to the women so they could cover their hair. I donned my own scarf and we were granted entry. The crowds were thick, but not so much that I didn’t notice Western women removing the scarves as soon as they were inside. I overheard one woman say, in a distinctly American voice, “I’m not Muslim. I’m not wearing that shit.”

I don’t care if you’re not Muslim. I don’t care if you’re not Buddhist, or Christian, or Jewish. I don’t care what you are, or aren’t. When you enter a place that people use to pray, or worship, or meditate, or whatever is significant to them, show some respect. If they ask you to cover your hair, do it. If they ask you to kneel, do it. If you don’t want to do any of those things, don’t go in. It’s very simple.

I’m not a religious person. I don’t subscribe to any faith, and, to be frank, most modern religions trouble me and leave me confused. However, just as I appreciate my ability to to be free in my lack of faith, I appreciate the ability of others to be immersed in theirs. I respect their devotion, and consequently, I respect the places they go to show that devotion. I have no agenda other than a desire for cultural awareness, and a few minutes spent observing the rules so I can visit these amazing places is time well spent.

And to those ladies at Wat Phra Kaew and the Blue Mosque and all the others who ignore the rules, if you don’t have time for respect, then perhaps you shouldn’t be traveling.

It’s Not Always a Vacation

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Travel
a : to journey through or over
b : to follow (a course or path) as if by traveling
c: to traverse (a specified distance)

Vacation
a : a respite or a time of respite from something
b : a period spent away from home or business in recreation

Styles of travel or vacation are as unique as the destinations themselves. Lazy and luxurious resort vacations go head-to-head with hostels and backpacks. I am no stranger to either. While each has its merits, our hectic travel style during the past year has taught me that there is an expansive difference between travel and vacation.

And our year was not always a vacation.

When we decided that multiple long weekends was the way to maximize our travel time while simultaneously working around a full time job, I was excited. We’d get to see many different places and have a multitude of experiences to remember and share.

I had no idea how tired I would become.

an exhausted traveler
Photo: Phjunkies

Flights from Abu Dhabi don’t always leave at the most convenient times. Combine a 2am departure with my utter and complete inability to sleep on an airplane, and you have me arriving at a destination at sunrise, feeling like a cracked out club kid. That first day is usually wasted as all I want is a nap, and a long one at that. When two or three days are all that we have to work with I feel terribly guilty, but which is worse? An indulgent nap or the aforementioned club kid deliriously trying to take in the sights and sounds of a new place? I know myself well enough to know that a nap is always the better choice.

So, more often than not, we hit the ground running. We crammed countries like Jordan, Egypt and Sri Lanka into a few days each. While I really enjoyed each of our trips, I could not keep the feelings of guilt from creeping into many of the hours spent in those places. Will and I both made certain to tell each other that we’d be back, that we’d revisit and give these places the time and attention they deserved.

But I know the truth. Return trips are not likely to happen.

The fact of the matter is that we never definitively know what part of the world we’ll call home at any given time. Sure, right now we live in Abu Dhabi, and, in all likelihood, we’ll be here for at least another year. But that isn’t set in stone. Since that is the case, we may not have the opportunity to be a mere three hour flight from Jordan ever again. Can I live with the six hours we spent at Petra, one of my dream destinations? When all is said and done, I have to be okay with that. I don’t have a choice.

Vacation and travel are two very different things. Of course the dictionary says so, but I know so. What we did during 2012 was more travel and less vacation. Would I change it? Of course not. However quickly those moments flew by, they were moments that I will treasure forever. Who am I to complain? I saw and did things that most people will never do or see. I am a very lucky and very grateful girl.

But I am also ready for a vacation.

2012: The Year in Review

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2012 has been a big year for us here at The Life Nomadic. We made the move from South America to Southwest Asia, and between that move and our need to escape Abu Dhabi, if only for a weekend, we visited sixteen countries.

It was a hectic year of travel to say the least, and while we’ll be modifying our travel schedule in 2013, I wouldn’t change a thing about the things we did this year. Here are some of the highs, and a few lows, of 2012.

January: We rang in 2012 in the lovely little town of Boquete, Panama. Some of Will’s friends from his days in Antarctica own a fantastic restaurant there, and it’s one of our favorite places in Central America. Following that we made our way south to Santa Catalina, Panama where Will completed his advanced open water SCUBA certification at Coiba Island. One of the interesting things about that time was that the owners of the hostel where we stayed were away at the time, effectively leaving us and a group of Canadian travelers to run the show. There were some great nights spent dancing in the moonlight on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. During this time we also made the decision to accept the job in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates.

 

Heidi and Michael, our favorite people in Boquete.
Heidi and Michael, our favorite people in Boquete.

 

February: In February we returned to Huanchaco, Peru to collect the things we had stored with friends and to say goodbye to our favorite little beach town. As the details of Will’s new job were solidified, we gathered our lives into our suitcases and journeyed to Washington, D.C. to prepare for our trip to the Middle East. Washington, D.C. is one of my favorite cities in the USA, and although the cold weather was a shock, we had a great time experiencing city life again, which included a hockey game, the fantastic museums, and a reunion with our good friend Natalie who was in town on business.

 

The Washington Monument
The Washington Monument

 

March: We spent March exploring the amazing country of the United Arab Emirates. A lot of time was spent on details, such as securing our residency visas, which ended up being a bit more problematic than we initially thought. Our marriage certificate had to be sent to Taiwan to be authenticated, and because that process was delayed, we had to apply for an extension on our tourist visa. However, we did manage to have some fun in Dubai, which included a visit to the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, and Ski Dubai, which is the largest indoor ski slope in the world. We also visited the oasis city of Al Ain and its famous camel market, and watched the sunset from Jebel Hafeet, the highest point in the country. A trip to the famous Blue Souk in Sharjah was also a must.

 

On the lift at Ski Dubai.
On the lift at Ski Dubai.

 

April: I rang in the month of April with a much needed surgical repair of my knee. Of course, any type of surgery is not much fun, but the immobility I was forced to maintain was more difficult than I expected. However, we had to make a visa run to Oman, as our residence visas were still in the works. We decided to make a weekend of it, so I bundled my braced leg in the car and we drove through the desert to Muscat. I was dumbstruck by the beauty of the Omani coast and the desert interior. Camels and mosques dotted the landscape and we were both pleased to finally take a road trip in our own car, after years of travel on someone else’s schedule.

 

Camel on the road in Oman.
Camel on the road in Oman.

 

May: After my knee was in better shape for extended periods of walking we took a long weekend trip to Istanbul. This city simply charmed the pants off of me. I loved everything about this wonderful place where east and west meet to say hello. The Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sofia, the boat cruise up and down the Bosphorus Strait, and the Grand Bazaar represented everything that I love about this part of the world. We ate delicious food at the restaurant owned by a Turkish man who had returned from New York City to run the family business, and he did so with a unique Brooklyn style. My knee was screaming by the end of the weekend, but I was so glad to have visited this wonderful city.

 

The Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey.
The Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey.

 

June: By June the incredible desert heat had begun to set in and we were miserable. A tropical getaway was just what we needed so we booked a trip to Sri Lanka. The flight left from Dubai at some ungodly hour so we drove over the night before and checked into a hotel near the airport to sleep for a few hours. The alarm was set and we both dozed off. I woke a few hours later to see the clock flashing 3:30 am, the time when our flight was leaving. Unfortunately, the alarm on the phone was set for 1:00 pm, not 1:00 am. This was the first time in my life that I had missed a flight and we were both so bummed. We drove back to Abu Dhabi the next morning, collected our cat from the neighbors, and spent the long weekend at home, vowing to never miss a flight again.

 

At least Bean was happy that we missed our flight.
At least Bean was happy that we missed our flight.

 

July: Initially we hadn’t planned a trip for July, but restlessness from the heat combined with a fantastic airfare sale saw us booked for a weekend in Kiev, Ukraine. I quickly realized that a visit to Chernobyl was a real possibility, so I got to work on the details. Government approval is necessary to receive a pass into Chernobyl, and that takes time, so after a change of date on our tickets we were approved for entry. Visiting that place is one of the highlights of my life. It was surreal and beautiful and haunting all at once. The city of Kiev is a stunning place as well. It has all of the aspects of the former Soviet Bloc that I expected, and a good dose of beautiful European architecture to boot. This trip was was probably my favorite of the year.

 

The Ferris Wheel in the abandoned town of Prypiat, Chernobyl.
The Ferris Wheel in the abandoned town of Prypiat, Chernobyl.

 

August: August was to be our big trip for the year, which included both of our birthdays. We decided to fly to Prague and rent a car, then drive south through Austria, Slovenia and Croatia, then return to Prague for several days in the city. Those two weeks were amazing. We visited the Bone Church in Kutna Hora, Czech, spent a crazy night wandering the streets of Graz, Austria, camped in Plitvice National Park, Croatia and followed part of the Bourdain Trail in Zadar, Croatia. We rented an apartment in Prague for a week, and stomped back and forth across the Charles Bridge, delighting in the sights and sounds of that amazing city. It was truly a spectacular time in Eastern Europe and, of course, I can’t wait to go back.

 

Prague Castle.
Prague Castle.

 

September: A trip to Jordan has been on my bucket list for years and when we made the decision to move to the Middle East it was one of the first places we talked about visiting. However, my knee surgery forced us to push this trip back several months due to the level of physical activity required. By September, I was ready to go. We only had a long weekend so this was a jam-packed time, but it was incredible. We spent a night sleeping under the stars in Wadi Rum, visited Petra and took a donkey ride through the cliffs, gazed at Israel across the Dead Sea and drove our rental car through tiny villages. Jordan is a spectacular country that deserves a great deal of recognition for the wonderful Bedouin hospitality.

 

The Treasury at Petra, Jordan.
The Treasury at Petra, Jordan.

 

October: Eight years ago I visited Thailand right before the devastating tsunami that struck in 2004. So much in my own life has changed in those years and I was eager to revisit this country that had fanned my travel flame so long ago. Air Berlin and Etihad Airways had opened a non-stop flight from Abu Dhabi to Phuket so we decided to visit over the long Eid holiday weekend. In addition, we received our first invitation from a hotel to stay at their property and write a review! We spent five days at the beautiful Hilton Phuket Arcadia Resort and Spa, went diving with Sub Aqua, kayaked the beautiful Phang Nga Bay, and ate curry until we could eat no more. A lot has changed in Phuket since my last visit, and I was pleased to see this beautiful country has rebounded well from that terrible disaster.

 

The James Bond islands in Phang Nga Bay, Thailand.
The James Bond islands in Phang Nga Bay, Thailand.

 

November: As the year was winding down, our travel schedule ramped up. We had two trips planned for November, and the month started with another attempt to visit Sri Lanka. We made the flight this time, and spent a weekend in Unawatuna, about three hours south of Colombo. This sleepy little beach town was everything we could have hoped for. The Thaproban Beach House with its idyllic setting on the beach was perfect for lazy days sipping beers between bouts of sun and thunderstorms. As usual, the weekend was over too quickly, but what a weekend it was.

 

A fisherman in Unawatuna, Sri Lanka.
A fisherman in Unawatuna, Sri Lanka.


Despite another round of protests in the Egyptian capital, we made plans to go to Cairo over the last weekend in November. I couldn’t have been more enchanted with that wonderful city. Of course I loved seeing the Pyramids and the Sphinx, but I was more intrigued by the amazingly strong people who are so dedicated to changing their country and their lives. Although we only spent a short time in Tahrir Square, that time will stay with me forever.

 

The Great Pyramids at Giza, Egypt.
The Great Pyramids at Giza, Egypt.

 

December: I am still processing the time we spent in India over the Christmas holiday. I don’t think one can leave India with thoughts and opinions lined up neatly in a row. There is too much in the way of emotion to categorize in one fell swoop. However, as we arrived in Delhi, the city was reeling from a recent horrific gang rape of a young woman on a city bus. Tension was high as protests and riots occurred citywide. I loved being there to see these people standing up for an end to violence against women.
We saw the tourist sights, but there is so much more to India than the Taj Mahal. As soon as I have organized my thoughts, I’ll share them with you.

 

A very foggy morning at the Taj Mahal, Agra, India.
A very foggy morning at the Taj Mahal, Agra, India.

 

So that’s it. What a year! While I loved each and every trip we took, I learned a lot about what I do and don’t like about that type of travel. We have decided that 2013 will include fewer, but longer, trips to destinations like Northern Europe and China. However, as is the case with us, nothing is set in stone.

Thanks to all of you for following us around the world during 2012. We wish all of you a healthy and happy New Year full of adventure!

Sunsets Around the World

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“Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

I am a sucker for a gorgeous sunset. Who isn’t? There is something so stupendously satisfying about seeing another day race off to be tomorrow in some other part of the world. A setting sun is one of those moments that can be experienced anywhere in the world, even your own backyard.

Sunsets have sometimes been the definition of beauty as I judge a place and compare one to another. I realize that can be unfair. Each place in the world has its own identity, and its own signature sunset.

These are some of my favorites.

 

Kaohsiung, Taiwan

This is one of the places in the world where my favorite sunset did not necessarily involve an ocean view. Taiwan lies on almost the same latitude as Hawaii, so it has similar tropical weather and high humidity. These combine to create skies filled with marshmallow clouds and the golden and pink colors that I love. I loved to climb to the roof of our  27 story apartment building and spend an hour taking one photo after another as the sun set behind the buildings and the busy shipping port. It was truly one of the most spectacular views in the city, and it was all mine.

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Kapua Bay, Big Island, Hawaii

It goes without saying that Hawaii has spectacular sunsets. Virtually any place on any of the islands has an evening view to melt your heart. However, I was fortunate enough to visit the beach house of my friend, photographer Sandi Child, on several occasions. This rustic cottage, located at the end of a long, 4×4 only, lava road through a macadamia nut and honey bee farm will always be one of my fondest memories of the Aloha State. Sunsets were spent on the lanai just a few feet from the water, with cocktails in hand, and abundant laughs. If we were lucky, dolphins or humpback whales would pay us a visit as well.

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Huanchaco, Peru

Before we made the journey from Kaohsiung to Huanchaco, I asked Will if there were sunsets. He immediately showed me photos from his time there a few years before. I was satisfied, but it wasn’t until I witnessed one for myself that I realized just how gorgeous they truly are. Whether we were ensconced on the patio of our little casita with a bottle of wine, or we carried said bottle down the street to perch on the breakwall above the Pacific Ocean, sunsets in Huanchaco are one of those wide awake in dreamland moments that made it so hard to live that perfect place.

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Amazon River, Peru

Not to be outdone by her Pacific coast, Peru serves up some spectacular sunset vistas in the interior as well, particularly in the jungles surrounding the Amazon River. I’m no meteorologist, but I have to assume that it’s the steamy, humid air that coaxes the amazing colors out of the sky as the sun sets. Beautiful pinks and magentas merge seamlessly with royal purple and midnight blue and tint the mighty river with their hues. Dark always seems to come too quickly in the tropics, but while the color and light show is going on, there’s no better seat in the house than the deck of a cargo boat on it’s journey to Iquitos.

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Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates

I have developed a love/hate relationship with the sun since I arrived in Abu Dhabi. On one hand, the often dusty haze that hangs in the sky contributes to stunning, blood red sunsets, and on the other hand, the sun is actively attempting to kill me. However, as the inhumane heat of the summer has faded to the deliciously pleasant temperatures of winter, a cocktail or dinner outside is an actually feasible endeavor. Whether it’s a luxury hotel’s rooftop lounge, or the deck of our villa, Abu Dhabi sunsets are some of the most unusual I’ve seen. Reds shift to orange and orange morphs to purple as the sun settles into the Arabian Gulf, all of it heralded by the sometimes otherworldly ululation that is the call to prayer . It’s an incredible sight to see.

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No matter where I am in the world, I will usually drop what I am doing and run outside to catch the sunset, and I am grateful that I have seen yet another day to its close. Maybe at some point in the near future I’ll wake up early on a regular basis to do the same with the sunrise.

Until then…

Where in the world are your favorite sunsets? Let us know in the comments section below!

How Jordan Stole My Heart and Refuses to Give It Back

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I’ll freely admit it. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade was the first and only film of the series I have seen. I liked it for what it was, a slightly cheesy action film, but I really enjoyed it for what it inspired in me, a reason to visit Petra. The beauty of The Treasury and the rest of the complex that was shown in the movie sparked a flame that was one of the few of my early bucket list items that hasn’t changed.

Fast forward more years than I’d care to admit and I was on a flight bound for Amman. As has been our typical travel style this year we had only a weekend to see this beautiful country. I understood that I would likely leave with a feeling of want, and I did, but so many things about that weekend made it very worthwhile. Here are a few of them.

Sunset in Wadi Rum

Sleeping Under the Stars

Part of our jam-packed weekend schedule was an overnight experience in Wadi Rum with Bedouin Directions. Everything about our time with them was seamlessly beautiful, from the desert hike at sunset to the dinner and music by gaslight. But the jewel in that crown was as simple as dragging our cots out of the tents and into the evening shadows. Snuggled up against the slight chill, I watched the stars come alive. Brilliantly vibrant against an inky sky, I fell asleep counting constellations and revelling in the utter and complete bliss I felt in the moment.

Wadi Rum Tornado
Wadi Rum Tornado

Wadi Rum

I gleefully dubbed my photo series of Wadi Rum “Beauty and the Bleak”. This stunning UNESCO World Heritage Site is everything I had ever hoped for in a desert landscape. Unique rock formations, towering cliffs, dunes of myriad beautiful colors, and vistas that literally took me back in time all combined to make for an exquisitely perfect day. Our guide and his trusty Jeep had me squealing like a little girl as we raced over the dunes, we climbed through the rubble of Lawrence of Arabia’s house, I got up close and personal with ancient petroglyphs, and witnessed an incredible dust tornado the size of which I had never seen. I easily could have pitched my own Bedouin tent and stayed in Wadi Rum forever.

First View of the Treasury
First View of the Treasury
The Beautiful Treasury
The Beautiful Treasury

Petra

What can I say about Petra that hasn’t already been said many times over the last two thousand years? The first glimpse of the Treasury as we neared the end of the Siq is a humbling experience, to say the least, but to stand in front of The Treasury, head tipped all the way back to take it in, is a feeling of awe that will be a touchstone of mine forever. Add to that the rest of the complex, the gorgeous striations in the pink sandstone, and the soaring expanse of the many cliffs made me feel so small, and so grateful to be there. Petra is a place of huge cultural significance and although I say this a lot, it is a place that no one should miss if you have the opportunity to go.

Donkey's Ear View
Donkey’s Ear View

 

The Donkey Ride

So this guy at Petra really wanted us to have a ride on his pair of donkeys. He trailed us all through Petra and we eventually agreed, more to just get him off of our backs than anything. As we discussed the route we would take, he mentioned a secret way to get back to the parking lot near the entrance to Petra. Thus began an epic sixty minute journey across an area that only goats get to see on a regular basis. Those strong little donkeys scrambled up and over the rock formations and as the bright sunlight bounced across the cliffs and reflected back on Petra, I was again lost in a moment that felt very much like a dream.

 

Throughout our entire weekend in the country of Jordan, as we raced in our rental car from place to place, I was flush with emotion. The landscapes are gorgeous, the people are intelligent and generous, especially with their tea, and the history is something to be savored. I can’t wait until we have a chance to return and really get to know this enchanting place.

 

Have you visited Jordan? Would you like to? Let us know in the comments section below!

Love Letter to My Husband

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I am looking at the back of his head right now; he’s busy playing Halo. The love that I feel rises in my throat and I want to grab him and kiss his face, but I don’t want to interrupt his game. That’s okay. I have a lifetime in which to bestow kisses.

We met in what may seem the most unlikely of situations to some, very likely to others… the internet. It was Craigslist to be exact. He was looking for a lawnmower and I was looking for a date. I should clarify that I wasn’t looking for just any date, I was looking for someone with a passport, someone who ultimately would be my passion, and in Hilo, Hawaii, that was like asking for the moon. His was the only reply that I responded to, because he said his passport had extra pages.

The pictures that I saw before our first date were of him in Antarctica. I emailed and asked if I would know him by the ice in his beard. I was only halfway joking. I mean, who was this bearded Antarctica working guy that I was meeting on a blind date? Weren’t people who worked at the South Pole simply weirdos? But who was I to judge?

I dressed carefully for that first date; white skirt, black tube top to show my tattoos, and a big smile. I chose a bar where I was known, and I arrived early. My bartender friend pointed him out when he arrived. He sat down and we talked. We talked for hours, over cocktails and appetizers and the cigarettes that we both resisted because it was, after all, a first date.

The second date morphed into the all-important third date and, a shot of tequila later, I climbed him like a tree and one could say that was it. We were a couple. Perhaps, but it was much more complicated than that. Weekends spent at Will’s yurt near Volcano only served to solidify the fact that he had applied for a job in Taiwan, and was certain to get it. I laid on his bed and looked at his Taiwan travel guide. I translated the Mandarin for him.

Two months and a crisis later he asked me to go to Taiwan with him. I said yes. I was in a weird place in my own life and I didn’t know that this was necessarily the right thing, but it was the right thing at the time. I packed all of my things into one huge suitcase and drove to the sleepy Hilo airport in the pre-dawn hours. I tossed my Jeep’s keys into the back seat so my friend could pick the car up later, and boarded a plane for Taipei, via Honolulu and Tokyo. And that was it. I was leaving, passport tucked in my pocket, on my way to a relationship.

I won’t bore you with the sordid details. Suffice it to say, it was hard. Very, very hard. But at one very difficult point while we were in Boracay, Philippines, something clicked. I knew that I loved him before, but I was all of a sudden in love. Head over heels, in fact. I knew this was the right thing. The best thing. The best thing ever.

Eight months later, we were married on the roof of our apartment building in Taiwan. My daughter flew in from the USA to be one of my maids of honor, and we said our words. The reception was legendary, as is apparent by the many facebook albums devoted to it. I was just happy to marry my friend, my lover, my partner in crime, my secret-sharer, the man who had forgiven me for sending his passport through the washing machine.
And here we are, almost three years later. I have this man to thank for everything that I have. He is generous to a fault, kind, supportive, incredibly sexy, and never fails to laugh at my jokes. I love his wisdom, his humor, and his entirely full life before he ever met me. He inspires me every day, encourages me to write, and to keep writing. He kisses me goodbye every morning, while I am still half asleep, as he leaves for a job that allows us to travel all over the world.

This man is a gift that I am so grateful for. I know that I am the most fortunate girl who has ever posted an ad on Craigslist in the the history of the world. Sounds far fetched? It is. Post on Craigslist and see what you get.

I got the love of my life.

 

Unrest

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I have never really understood the word “unrest”. It seems so much like an afterthought; a simple word stating the opposite of “rest”, but no more. Isn’t everything and everyone in a state of unrest at times?

Semantics aside, the word unrest is often used today to describe heated, politically charged situations in countries like Egypt. This unassuming descriptor conjures up feelings of unease in people halfway around the world as they absorb the media’s sometimes skewed story telling along with the most shocking images a news source can scrounge up. Unrest means danger, unrest means terror, and unrest means stay the hell away lest you be caught up in the violence. Unrest means remain at home.

We had booked a weekend trip to Cairo over a month ago. The week before our departure unrest reared its head as Egyptians once again took to the streets to protest a corrupt government. My friends around the world began a protest of their own. They protested my decision to continue as planned with the trip.

I can’t say that I wasn’t a little unsure. I was. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I wasn’t frightened. I felt no real fear about a trip to Cairo. I wasn’t terribly worried. Not until we were on the plane, pushing away from the gate at Abu Dhabi International airport. That is when I came face-to-face with unrest. And it scared the hell out of me.

Events unfolded benignly enough, as tense situations often do. The plane had just started its lumbering trek to the runway when the shouts began a few rows in front of us. One of the members of the Egypt Air cabin crew was shouting at a female passenger, and she was shouting right back. The aircraft shuddered to a stop. The pilot informed the passengers that we were returning to the gate due to a “disruptive passenger”. The plane made a sharp, 180 degree turn and back to the jetway we went.

As often as I fly, and as much as I am convinced disaster is inevitable on an airplane (see fear of flying), I have never experienced a disruptive passenger situation. However, I assumed that the authorities would board the plane, remove the offender and we’d be on our way. Not so. A strange song-and-dance routine began, with the song as screams in Arabic and the dance as a near brawl in the aisle of the plane.

You see, according to the man seated behind me, the woman simply refused to buckle her seatbelt. Her simple act of weird defiance was delaying our flight, and the Egyptians on board were not happy about it, not happy at all. As more and more people in uniform boarded the flight to attempt to deal with the situation, more and more of the other passengers became pissed off. Shouts directed toward the woman soon evolved into shouts directed at each other. Then the shoving started and the fists were drawn back in a show of force and I panicked. I panicked with a spray of tears, grabbed my bag and got off the plane.

Thankfully, Egypt Air employees prevented my all-out retreat back to my house in Abu Dhabi. They allowed us to wait at the gate until the situation had been resolved, which took over two hours. Two hours! Eventually, Abu Dhabi police removed the lady from the plane, and gate security escorted us back onto the aircraft. As we pushed through the drawn curtain separating first class from coach, my fellow passengers erupted in applause. I almost burst into tears again as we found our seats and got settled.

The man behind me gently tapped my shoulder and I turned around. “When you began to cry I was so angry”, he said. “I just want you to come to Egypt. I just want to welcome you. I am so happy you returned to the plane.”

I was happy as well. Cairo is a raw, gritty and stunningly gorgeous city. The Egyptian people are kind and warm and fiercely proud of their heritage. Tahrir Square is filled with men and women whose ideals are not up for discussion, or for sale. I fell in love with the feelings of angst and despair and hope that are the very breath of this amazing country.

And the Pyramids were great too.

Fear of Flying

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The only people who know my secret are the ones who are closest to me. After all, I don’t travel with just anyone. You are a member of my family or a close friend to have witnessed me at my worst. And me at my worst is me on a plane.

I have absolutely no idea how many miles I have flown in total. I would hazard to guess that the number lies somewhere near one million or perhaps even more. I have been flying frequently since I was a child, and in the last few years I have made more flights than I can count, or even remember. I do it because I have to, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.

Many people don’t like air travel. The cramped quarters and the time one must invest to get from one place to another can be frustrating. I understand that. For me, however, it’s a little more than frustrating. It’s terrifying. Paralyzingly terrifying. I have absolutely no faith in the machine or the mechanics and physics of flight.

The panic usually creeps in as the plane begins its taxi to the runway for takeoff. That tell-tale tingle in my chest and aluminum taste in my mouth signal the onset of fear. As the plane picks up speed down the runway my hand seeks to clutch at the person next to me, and I hope that it’s someone I know. Otherwise, it’s awkward, but propriety is the furthest thing from my mind in that moment.

Once we’re airborne my terror may abate a bit, unless something else happens. That could include turbulence, a quick bank, or a decrease in engine power. Any of these things cause the panic to ramp up again, and as I continue to furtively grab my seatmate I watch the other passengers and I watch the flight attendants if I can see them, hoping that I don’t see panic around me, but I am secretly convinced that I will. I can’t be the only one who is certain that death is imminent. Can I?

Levelling off at altitude brings a modicum of comfort, especially if the weather is nice up there. I may even bring myself to look out the window. However, I am still on edge as I listen to the engines for the sound of catastrophic failure, and devour the flight map and the path, trying desperately to ascertain when and where the inevitable terrifying turbulence will take place. I may read or watch a movie, but I never, ever sleep. Constant vigilance is mandatory.

When the pilot finally announces that we are on approach, I am at once relieved and even more anxious. Questions begin to flood my mind. Is a sharp turn required to land? How strong are the winds on the ground? Is it raining and, if so, will the plane skid upon touchdown? When were the tires last changed? As I hear the landing gear engage with a thudding clunk, the frantic search for a hand to clasp begins again, my breath comes in short, sharp whistles, and my face alternates from pressed against the window to buried in my companion’s shoulder. I really can’t bear to look, but I can’t help myself.

The plane’s movement as it hovers over the runway feels huge to me, as if the pilot is having immense difficulty keeping it balanced. At this moment I always recall the view of a landing plane from a vantage point on the ground. I never see this kind of flailing movement that I currently feel, and I am convinced that my plane is wrong, horribly wrong.

The tiny tires under this gargantuan plane hit the runway and I have a few more seconds of sheer terror to attempt to deal with. The flaps do their flappy thing, the brakes are mashed down, and I, with tensely held breath, grab the armrests of my seat and sail along on what feels like an avalanche, swift and deadly. The sounds of wind and squealing tires and shuddering fuselage is apocalyptic in its volume. I close my eyes against the world, as I might during a horror movie, and wait for the end.

And the end always happens, and it is the complete and utter antithesis of what I had been convinced of all along, that we would all die a horrible, fiery death. The taxi to the gate is often a few moments of giddy bliss on my part. Deep sighs of relief escape my chest and I can now concentrate of the reward for those hours of angst-ridden delirium, the destination. The trip down the aisle, backpack casually slung across my shoulder, toward the jetway makes me feel like a Chilean miner at the moment of my rescue. The light is blinding, enveloping, soft and sweet.

I do, however, politely avoid the eyes of the cabin crew as they tell me goodbye. I don’t want them to know my secret. That I am “that one”. The one who is terrified of flying.