On My Way Home

The final stretch has finally arrived and I’m only 3 more days at sea till I disembark in Boston. This trip has been great; I’ve added 4 new countries to my list and I’ve learned a lot about Mediterranean history, culture and policies. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to sail with my parents, and I’ve met a lot of really great girls from all over the US, who I definitely want to keep up with.

But I can’t pretend I am not extremely excited to come home. One thing Semester at Sea does is makes you appreciate how wonderful home really is. I am really looking forward to going back and seeing my friends, (yes, Rachel, here is your shout out!), Johnny, and, of course my fat cat, Mr. Panda. I am excited to get back to school and sing with Hoos in Treble, engage in the Promotions class, and eat dinner at the Kappa Delta house, listening to how everyone else’s summers went.

On this voyage, a group of my friends and I painted the flags of the countries we visited on our backs (I’m Italy). It’s a tradition that started for me last year (though this will probably be my last time on Semester at Sea). It’s my favorite picture from the voyage and one of my favorite times at sea. For two hours, nine of the girls I got closest to this summer spent time painting each others backs, swapping stories, memories, and things we learned. Everyone had a different country or experience that was the best in their minds, but everyone agreed that the entire voyage would be unforgettable.

So as Semester at Sea’s motto goes, “The World is Our Campus” and I’m excited to bring it back to Charlottesville.

Flippin’ Your Fins

My final day on land, before returning home to Boston, was spent walking about water. The last day In Portugal I visited the Lisbon Oceanarium. It’s no secret I love nature, but what you may not know is that although I am in the Commerce School and studying marketing, I used to be an Environmental Science major planning to concentrate in marine and terrestrial ecology. Unfortunately with the amount of labs I would need to complete, pairing the with the Comm School just wasn’t in the cards, but my love for ecosystems hasn’t changed (in fact, my favorite ecosystem is a Mangrove Forest.)

An Oceanarium is a collection of not just fish, but all marine species, including birds, mammals, fish, and other marine organisms. The main exhibit is a large tank in the middle of the Oceanarium with everything from starfish, to manta rays, to sharks, and even the largest bony fish, the Sunfish. Around the large tank in the middle are 4 different habitats: the North Atlantic rocky coast with puffins, and strange sharks in the water (in fact one jumped up at the glass and nearly took off my fingers that I careless left too close to the edge.) The Antarctic Coastline with penguins. The Temperate Pacific kelp forests with sea otters. And the Tropical Indian Coral Reefs with more colorful fish than the rainbow probably holds.

The best exhibit by far was the sea otter habitat. I decided that if I could be one animal, I would be a sea otter. They are incredibly cute, swimming about without a care in the world and even wave as if they enjoy the attention of spectators. Two of the sea otters, named Eusebio and Amalia, were clearly happy to see visitors as they did summersults and showed off how deep they could dive.

Since these creatures were my favorite that I saw, I can’t resis sharing some interesting facts about sea otters! Sea otters have an abnormally thick coat of fur, which is actually the densest in the animal kingdom. It has water resistant hairs that help regulate it’s body temperature and keep warmth trapped close to the body. It can dive fairly deep, because it usually forages for food on the sea floor, preying mostly on sea urchins, mollusks and crustaceans. Sea otters are incredible swimmers, partly because they can close their nostrils and ears, preventing any water from irritating them as they use their strong hind legs to propel them through the water. They can even swim at night because the long whiskers on their face act as feelers in the dark waters. Despite being great swimmers, sea otters send most of their time floating and flipping about on the surface, grooming themselves. As they do this, they tend to stick together in “rafts” 10-100 sea otters. To keep from floating out to sea, they wrap themselves up in sea kelp, or hold paws while sleeping. They are social animals, so I imagine we would get along quite nicely. Unfortunately, when I get back I don’t think there is room enough in my house at UVA to keep one as a pet.

Cork Convents

 I know I have mentioned this too many times, but the theme of Sintra as a fairytale keeps creeping up. Our first stop on day two in Sintra was to the Capuchos Convent. Founded in 1560 by 8 monks, the Capuchos Convent would be difficult to find if you weren’t looking for it. It idea of a Christian sanctuary tucked away in nature came to one of the monks in a dream. Embedded in between the Sintra mountains, the small cluster of houses and sacred spaces is made almost entirely out of cork. The doors, walls, ceiling were all soft to the touch because as the cork aged it became softer. The rooms and spaces are all influenced by the number 8, symbolizing infinity, but what is more peculiar is that every doorway and hallway is incredibly small. I felt like I was walking through the 7 dwarves home in Snow White. We were lucky we came early because we got to see the entire without any other visitors, contributing to the magic feel the place exuded.

We finished off Sintra in the early afternoon by trekking up the mountain a bit more to the Moorish Castle. It was originally built for the Moors, Spanish Muslims who escaped to Portugal. Though on a much smaller scale, the walls reminded me of the Great Wall in China. The walk, or hike (there were a lot of stairs) gave a great view of all of Sintra, and the Pena Palace. The only place we wanted to go, but were unable was the Pena Palace, but from what I hear, the outside view was the most spectacular part. Although the walk along the walls was great, with backpacks and the sun beating down on us, we decided to grab a taxi back to the train station after an hour or so. It was time to say goodbye to Sintra, and look forward to one last day in Portugal before heading back to the States.

Sold on Sintra

By the time the last country rolls around, I usually run out of money. Getting to Sintra was pretty cheap, only about 2-4 euros and the tourist attractions were affordable too, so the only expense was the hostel and food. We stayed in a nice EcoHostel called Alma, that I would recommend to anyone. After a long day of exploring the Quinta da Regaleria, we were exited to go back to our hostel with a bag of cheap groceries and vino verde wine, the local Portuguese sparkling white wine (my favorite of the trip). The hostel had 8 acres of land and grew all of it’s food including vegetables, grapes, and chickens. The water was fresh from a natural spring that ran down the mountain and kept the entire yard rich with nutrients for the overgrowing plants, ferns and flowers. Still feeling like I was living in a fairytale, even with no money I was sold on Sintra.

I learned in my Investing in a Sustainable Future class that wealth does not equal well being. That principle could not be closer to the truth. Without any money, that evening was by far one of my favorite memories of the trip. We took out our bread, cheese, and fruits from the grocery store and watched goats play in the field down the hill…saying it like that sounds kind of strange, but it felt like being back at home on a farm on a lazy summer afternoon. No obligations, just hanging out with friends. As the sun began to set we walked up a bit higher to the flower garden and found a small cleared patch to watch a beautiful sunset. Cracking open our bottles of vino verde, we chatted until dark and even stargazed until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. There was one more big day ahead of Sintra tomorrow.

 

Quaint Little Quinta

If I had millions of dollars, what would I do with it? Probably build a UNESCO World Heritage Site like the Quinta da Regaleira. One of the main attractions in Sintra, this palace is more like a fairyland than a residence. The romantic architecture mirrors the castles in Disney movies and the sun sparkles through the trees, giving every thing a glittering glow.

Built in 6 years by 1910 by Italian architect Luigi Manini, the castle itself encompasses Roman, Gothic, Renaissance, and Manueline architecture styles. On the outside it is completely stone, however the inside is covered in wood, including wood cherub babies sitting in the rafters. The paintings around the estate even look a little Disney cartoonish with bright colors, big eyes, and majestic scenes of knights, lords, and ladies, as if sleeping beauty herself used to grace the hallways. The palace had many quirks about it, including large lion door knockers for each entry way, secret passage ways, small spiral staircases, and my favorite, the library that give the illusion of thousands of books, but it was really covered in mirrors. The mansion was impressive, certainly a place I would have loved to live, though perhaps not with the owner. He was a man with a scowl and one very droopy eye… and for some reason did not ask the sculptor to fix it.

Even better than the palace, was the surrounding back yard. More like a park full of natural jungle gyms, we spent hours exploring the property. Every turn was a new things to check out, a lake, a grotto, a 7 story well… My favorite place we found could only be accessed by underground tunnels. The tunnels were dark, but were lined with twinkle lights that gave an eery mysterious feel as we trekked along underground. We popped out in one of the wells, but continued on until coming to an opening that displayed a natural waterfall and rock step bridge over a secret pond. The air was a bit damp, and the water cascading from the fall made a perfect hiding spot to sit and read…if only I had those few million dollar to make my own!

Originally we were going to hit up one or two more tourist sites in the afternoon around Sintra, but we ended up staying at the Quinta da Regaliera for 3 hours. If it wasn’t for my stomach grumbling, I probably would have opted to spend even more time, but I had to listen to the hunger. We went back into town to grab some groceries and stopped by a few local shops. The most notable visit was to another Ginja shop. Not everyone in the group of 3 other girls I was travelling with had tried it yet, so they took the opportunity of drinking it out of a chocolate cup (probably much better that way, no sprite needed.) The owner was very generous and even escorted us to the back to try “Angel’s Pee,” an almond-lemon liquour, that despite the name was incredibly delicious. But as we walked along, our feet got tired and our stomachs shouted as us once again, so we headed back to our hostel for the night to have a picnic for dinner.

Climbing Castles

I have to say, after Morocco I felt like I could skip Portugal and just head back to Boston. I didn’t know anything about the country except that Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492 from there. However stepping off the boat for the first time, my first impression was an immediate surprise. First off, the temperature was not in the 100’s but rather a warm 75 degrees with a light breeze. The sky was bright blue rather than a hazy desert grey, and the people were extremely friendly.

The first day in Portugal I stayed around Lisbon, the capital city. A few of my friends and I tried to figure out the train system, but the language barrier was much bigger than expected. Luckily the locals are incredibly friendly and were always willing to help. One guy even rode with us all the way to the center of town and led us to St. Jorge’s castle so we didn’t get lost.

St. Jorge’s castle is at the top of Lisbon with a great view that no one wants to miss. It is technically a tourist spot but citizens of Lisbon also live within the old walls. I can’t imagine living within the castle walls. Some of the parts had renaissance additions of minstrels playing flutes giving the castle a more authentic feel. I have to say, I had a blast climbing the walls, and can only imagine how much better it would be if I lived there and could see it at sunrise.

By noon we were famished from all the uphill climbing, so we stopped for lunch and pastries before heading to the Beer Museum. Much like Germany, Portugal is known for its beer and liquor culture. The Museum was fairly small, but we got a free clay mug and draft beer, and learned that the beer used to be made by monks! Also, we learned that much like in the 20’s in America, alcohol was outlawed in Portugal- although foreigners could still drink. When it was finally legal again, parties broke out everywhere…apparently that party never stopped because Lisbon lights up at night. It seems no one sleeps, but everyone walks around bar streets, no matter what day of the week.

The famous alcohol in Portugal in Ginja, a cherry liquor. Though not beer, we tried this as well at the Beer Museum. It tasted a bit more like medicinal cherry syrup than I would have liked, so we asked the bartender to cut it with water and then brilliantly we thought of adding sprite. It was so much better! We told the restaurant they should consider adding it to the menu, but they just laughed at us, saying Ginja was great on it’s own… maybe if you enjoyed cough syrup.

Though there is lots to do in Lisbon, I was ready to head out a bit farther to Sintra, a city 45 minutes away that apparently has more trees than people. I have been missing the wooded outdoors, so I couldn’t wait to trade in the pavement of the city, for the dirt of a hiking trail.

Meandering in the Medina

Though Marakesh is known for being a fairly modern city in Morocco, one of the highlights of the town is the Medina, the old part of the city. The Medina is a maze of streets filled with shops with homes scattered in between. Our last day in Marakesh was spent taking a guided tour through the Medina, which was great, because otherwise we definitely would have gotten lost. As we weaved in and out of the walls, we eventually were taken to a carpet shop.

The carpet shop was decorated by rugs of all shapes, sizes and colors, rolled up or sprawled out on the ground. Our entire group was corralled into one room where the shopkeepers spread out over thirty carpets on the ground. They explained that traditional Moroccan carpets have a looser weave that are much more plush to the touch, and the colors are more vibrant than in other parts of the world. Essentially, we were held captive until a few of us purchased carpets. So to pass the time, Skye got creative and tried flying a “magic carpet.” Everyone in the room stopped and stared and the shopkeepers almost fell out of their chairs laughing.

We walked through the rest of the Medina past iron workers, basket weavers, and other various crafts being made until we stopped at a homeopathic pharmacy. Only a few of us followed the guide into the back to listen to an explanation of which spices were not only good for cooking but also curing various ailments. The pharmacist had us sniff one product, Sanouje, that sorted burned the nostrils. It is supposed to be good for migraines, colds, asthma, and snoring. My favorite product they showed us however was the “magic lipstick.” It was a green substance that when applied on the lips turns to a bright pink color.

Our last stop in the Medina, and in Marakesh, was the square. The square was littered with various circus-like characters trying to scrape up a few coins for every picture a tourist took. Some of the interesting acts were monkey trainers and snake charmers. The monkey trainers had monkeys on chains that they would throw onto wandering tourists, but they seemed fairly harmless. The snake charmers however were much more worrisome. First off, the charmers would surprise passersby by wrapping snakes around their necks, and would coax cobras to dance by playing the flute. It would have been cool to have snakes hung like necklaces on my neck, like I did in Benin, if the snake charmers didn’t have massive bites all over their arms. That made the experience significantly more horrifying.

The last thing I wanted to do before I left to go back to Casablanca was get henna. In the square, most people were accosted by random women decorating henna on unwillingly tourists, however I found a lady and sat down excitedly. I got the brown henna because it was the most traditional, and only stays for one to two weeks. The black henna is supposed to stay longer, but I thought it would be a bit too dark, and I didn’t need to keep it for UVA. I’m glad I didn’t though because one girl came back with a swollen hand. The black henna has chemicals in it (not found in the brown henna) that reacted poorly with her skin and now sadly looks like a horrible burn in the design of the henna on her skin. The henna might have been cool, but I wouldn’t want a permanent reminder with a scar in the design of the henna.

Sahara Summer

Waking up in the middle of the Sahara desert threw me for a loop the second day in Morocco. I’m used to waking up freezing under the covers in my bed on the ship, but this morning I woke in a bit of a sweat, lying on top of my covers with all my clothes and shoes on from the day before. Still scared of the potential scorpions, I didn’t want to take any risks of finding them in my shoes or pile of clothes in my backpack. I went to the bathroom tent to brush my teeth with the bottle of water I had saved from the day before, and changed into another pair of Aladdin pants. Since Morocco is a strict Muslim country, women (and most men) have to cover both their knees and most of their arms. Although it was hot, it was good sun protection, so I didn’t mind. I was just glad I purchased enough pants in Turkey so I didn’t have to wear the same pair for the four days in Morocco. For the long sleeves I have to say props to Johnny for giving my a fishing shirt for my birthday, because not only was it light weight and breathable, but it didn’t show any sweat which other people had some troubles with. So if you’re ever heading to Morocoo- invest in some lightweight pants (preferably balloon pants) and fishing shirts, and you’ll be golden.

After a breakfast of bread and honey, the group was shuffled into 4 wheelers to head out even deeper into the desert. We bumped and jumped over the arid landscape, passing dunes, cliffs, and dried up caverns where it looks like water runs through when it (seldom) rains. Our first stop was a dam in the middle of nowhere. It’s fairly flat, so when villages appear it’s a great surprise. The dam was a vast man-made lake that held all of the water for the surrounding area during the summer months. It provided both drinking water and electricity, so no one was allowed to swim in it, but the temperature was reaching 116 degrees Fahrenheit, so it was pretty tempting to take a quick dip.

We continued on, the landscape changing rapidly from sandy desert to dry mountains. At the base of the mountain we were lucky to visit a Berber Village. These villages were mostly made of mud huts and housed extended families. The one we visited was strategically placed next to a small river. The entire village was self sustainable as they had all resources needed for survival- chickens, homegrown grapes, shelter, water, friends, family. True, the standard of living wasn’t quite what we were used to in the US, but each person we met was friendly and happy. I was so glad I took French in grade school because I was able to learn all about their home life by conversing in French. One woman of the house even taught us how to make traditional Moroccan tea- green tea mixed with lots of sugar and fresh mint.

In the afternoon we finally made it out of the desert and into Marakesh. We were given a bit of free time before dinner when we checked into our hotel, so we took that time to explore the city. Many of the shops are closed in the afternoon to prepare for the Ramadan feast, so there wasn’t much we could do, but it was fun to just walk around the city (even though it was so hot, it literally felt like we were sitting in an oven.)

Dinner was our final event of the evening. We had a large five-course meal of traditional Moroccan food. Again, everything was cooked in a tagine, rich with spices. The meal was great, but would not have been complete without the belly dancing show that accompanied it. All that I know of belly dancing is from Epcot center in Disneyworld and of one surprise show at a restaurant in Roanoke, so my impressions of belly dancing were skewed for sure, but the dancing in Morocco was on a whole other level. I had seen the costumes one could purchase in the markets, but I had no idea how skimpy they really were. The dancer that shook her hips and grabbed patrons to dance with her at this restaurant was scantily dressed and didn’t quite move in the traditional way of sexy stomach rolling. In fact, with the awkward promiscuity, everyone felt pretty uncomfortable. Thankfully the show didn’t last more than fifteen minutes. At the end of the dinner and show, it was 11pm and I was ready to hit the sack again, thankfully in a hotel where I wouldn’t have to check under my pillow at night. 

Camel Trekkin’

My trip to Morocco was one of my favorite experiences of Semester at Sea so far.

I never expected to find myself in the middle of the Sahara Desert, trekking through heat and sand on the hump of a camel. 3 hours to Marakesh, Morocco and the first place we stop is the camel taxi stand. I went on a Semester at Sea sponsored trip, so 48 other students hopped on the idle camels at the edge of the Sahara with me.

I don’t know much about camels, but I have heard they have a tendency to spit and can survive without water for four days. I didn’t really know what to expect riding along on my lumpy friend, but I found that camels are surprisingly active despite the lack of water. My camel, named Hadil, enjoyed bumping into the camel in front of me, chewing on the rider, and emitting loud dinosaur sounds that echoed off the dunes of the desert. Unfortunately I am not as good at retaining water as a camel, so I chugged as many water bottles as possible to combat the heat. This made for an uncomfortable ride, so to keep my mind off the water swishing around my stomach, I couldn’t stop from singing to myself, “my humps, my humps, my humps, my humps, check me out.”

An hour or two later we stopped at a lone castle like structure for some lunch in the late afternoon where we had our first Moroccan meal before continuing on the camels for a (thankfully) shorter trek. The ship had cleared later than expected, so our camel trek had started a little later than originally scheduled. In order to get to our evening destination, we needed to be flexible (the “f word” of the voyage). The camels would be too slow and riding them at night could be dangerous, especially with the wind kicking up at by dark. Instead, our guide arranged for us to take trucks.

After our lunch and short camel ride we met 2 trucks that the entire 48 of us were herded into. Turns out the trucks were usually used for transporting camels to and fro- in fact, we watched the animals we were just riding hitch a ride in identical vehicles- but this time the trucks would be transporting humans. Feeling like we were being smuggled across the border, we finally arrived at the nomad camp.

For the night, we were staying in the middle of the Sahara in a camp set up by nomads. Though it was clearly set up for tourists, we were literally walking on a red carpet laid down on the sand, the concept of sleeping in tents out in the middle of nowhere was both exhilarating and terrifying. Everyone was exhausted from the trek, so the pillows scattered about the floor were a welcomed comfort, along with the traditional Moroccan dance and music show. They offered many students to get up and dance with them, but I was particularly impressed with my brother, Skye, who was not only able to keep up with the pace, but looked great in the red hat the dancer insisted he wear.

After an extremely filling dinner, all out of traditional Moroccan tagine clay pots, I finally was able to retreat to my tent to sleep. The temperature had dropped from the low 100s to the upper 70s, so it was comfortable to get some rest before our next adventure tomorrow. I made sure to check under the covers and my pillow because I had been warned that scorpions often like to snuggle into bed with you, but they aren’t the best bunkmates. I didn’t even need to count camels, as I easily drifted off to sleep, extremely happy with my first impressions of Morocco.

Bizarre Bazaar

 “Spice Girls!” “Princess!” “Beautiful” “Charlie’s Angels!”

I could get used to shopping in Istanbul. Everywhere I walked I was approached by people calling me sweet names, commenting on my “exotic beauty,” and asking to “help spend my money.” My favorite line I got was, “I like that color on you. But I like you even more! And I’d like to see you buy me rug even more!” I remember feeling a similar way, though perhaps a bit more overwhelmed in China going through the markets. Everyone seems so pushy, and eager to sell me something, I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

My default setting as I walked through the Grand Bazaar was to look straight ahead and ignore if I didn’t want to be approached, but it was hard because everyone was so nice- and the things they were selling were beautiful! Glass lanterns, artistic tiles, bags on bags on bags, and so much tea and spices! So much to choose from, but I had a strict budget I was trying to adhere to. So I came home with tea. Everywhere I went people were drinking tea. Apple tea was the drink of choice, so of course I picked up some for myself (and friends). I got so caught up with both the instant and lose leaf teas, I gave into the shopkeepers and bought kiwi, watermelon, chamomile, green, and my personal favorite, the mystery “love tea.” Not sure what it is supposed to do, but it seemed like the safe choice compared to the Turkish Viagra tea the shopkeeper was trying to sell me.

Wandering around the Grand Bazaar (the largest covered market in the world) could take days as it covers almost a mile total and as you get deeper into the market it gets increasingly more narrow and cluttered. The most bizarre encounter I had in the Bazaar was when a man approached me about buying perfume. I was tempted, because it was Chanel, but in all honesty, I’m a bit skeptical of the knock off brands. The man followed me for a good long while, continuously asking me to smell it. I wasn’t worried it wouldn’t smell the same. If it’s a knock off, I’m sure it smells identical, but I was more worried it would give me some weird rash from being cheaply made. Still, the man was relentless. He lowered the price from 50 lire to 5 lire (again, a tip off that I should avoid it.) He even blatantly told me he was on the Black Market and could get me any scent I wanted. 15 minutes later after incessant selling, he finally got the point and gave up to find another willing buyer.

What surprised me the most about the Bazaar was the lack of diversity. I could walk one block and 4 shops would sell identical things. I imagine they were competing on price mostly, but I couldn’t help but wonder if some of the skills in the Commerce School would even help me if I were to try to set up a business in the same environment. It certainly would be difficult to compete on price and to work within such a small space with hundreds of skeptical tourists passing by each day.

A New Kind of Turkish Delight

I began sweating profusely as I laid face down on a hot stone slab with 20 of my new closest friends. I was quite surprised when I entered the Cemberlitas Turkish Bath and was greeted by 5 topless women surrounded by plenty of other semi-nude patrons. As I laid in the sweltering heat, feeling more like cooking in a turkey baster, than a soothing spa, I couldn’t help wonder whether the liquid dripping down my nose was water condensation from the humid air, or just plain sweat. I flipped over a few times, roasting with a handful of strange women and a few of my friends for a half an hour before a large topless woman tapped me on the leg and motioned to follow her. I looked around at the other ladies and it seems this was the custom. So, gathering my towel, I went to the other side of the stone slab.

The woman motioned for me to lay face down. She explained to me that I was ready to be scrubbed since I had allowed myself to “moisten” long enough. Apparently the water on my face and now body was, in fact, sweat- the prime ingredient needed for a successful Turkish Bath. The women took a small hand towel and began scrubbing me from head to toe, front and back. It felt sort of like sandpaper along my skin. Luckily I was wearing the black underwear given to me, compliments of the establishment, or else the bath scrub down would have been extremely more awkward. Uncomfortable at first, the women scrubbed even my chest, but I eventually got used to it because it seemed like everyone was doing it. As she finished with the cloth, she brought my hand to my stomach and giving me a stern look. It seems she believed I was quite dirty, because she showed me all of the dirt and skin she had removed. Yes, it sounds pretty gross, but luckily everyone I talked to had the same experience. The curse of being tan from the sun- it comes off at a spa…and it’s noticeable. I must have been one of the dirtier ones, because after she surrounded me with a wall of soap bubbles, washing the rest of my body, she handed me the scrubber to take home. I was the only one in my group of friends who was given the “honor” to clean myself again back on the ship.

My bath mistress led me over to a wash station where she rinsed me down and shampooed my hair. I enjoyed the little head massage, but wasn’t quite sure whether I would be alive after almost drowning from all the water unexpectedly dumped on my head. After the car-wash like experience with my body and hair clean, I was free to socialize in the hot tub carved into the ground, which looked more like a small warm swimming pool. I wanted to keep up with my friends because they were finished a bit before me, so I only took a dip in and quickly left the sauna room to wait for the next part of the spa treatment.

When I met my friends in the waiting room, there were no more towels, so I had to awkwardly sit topless while I waited for my massage. The wait was so worth it though. I’m a sucker for massages, and this one was one of the best. I was even treated to a bonus facial during the 30 minutes of heaven. When I emerged from the massage room I felt like a hundred pounds had been lifted off my shoulders, leaving me weightless.

The Turkish Bath is not just a place for women to be washed and gossip, but also for men. From what I heard, the men did not have the same pleasant experience however. Seems they may be a bit more rough outside of the “females only” spa club.  For me though, the Turkish Bath was by far my favorite activity I did the entire time in Turkey, and if I could go back, I would probably just ask if the bath rented rooms because I would stay there and go down for a daily washing each morning. When we left we received free postcards to send to our friends back home, probably to brag about the great experience and encourage others to visit in the future.

Living Like a Queen

Continuing to soak up the rich history of Istanbul, I got up early to visit the Basilica Cistern. The best of the secret treasures of Istanbul lies beneath the paved roads in a large aqueduct. Lit only by dim lights, the Basilica Cistern is an ancient aqueduct that, if visited in the morning, haunts your senses. You can hear water dripping from unknown sources and see fish slithering around the columns in the water as you walk about a room that looks eerily similar to the Chamber of Secrets in Harry Potter. The column that drew my attention had teardrop eyes carved into the stone. Known as the Crying Column, it was wet to the touch from an unknown water source. The other interesting artifacts in the cistern were the large Medusa heads in the back of the chamber. One is upside down and another on it’s side, but no one knows why. The mystery of the Basilica Cistern was my favorite place we visited. It even ended with a fun where a few of my girlfriends and I dressed up in traditional Sultan clothing. We felt like queens the rest of the day.

Still strutting around like royalty, we headed to the Topkapi Palace. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Topkapi Palace used to be home to the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire for 400 years. The palace was broken up into various sections housing all sorts treasures and stories. The back section was the first “sofa,” which I expected to have one giant, plush, couch for tourists to recline on, but it turns out “sofa” just means an area to relax, play games, and enjoy the day without the stress of work. However they did have a building that had very short sitting areas to recline back to smoke hookah on. The most crowded section of the palace was the palace treasury on display in three rooms. The collection was impressive, showing off jeweled headdresses, gold plated swords, goblets, anything one could add a overly embellished design to. Despite my attraction to the large jewel collection (the jewelry was frankly just too large and ostentatious for my taste), the Harem intrigued me the most.

The Harem, though in the palace walls, is a completely separate part of the royal grounds. Sultans back in the day enjoyed their women. The Harem was a small collection of private apartments where his concubines resided. Eunuchs, black males without their manhood, also stayed with his “concubine family,” but only because they were forbidden to mix with the women of the palace (with being sterile and all, I imagine many women were turned off by that). Instead, the women of the Harem were there to please the Sultan. Girls between 6-13 were brought in for their beauty and intellect to live within the palace walls with the Sultan. However, only five or six concubines, including the head “Queen Mother” were granted the honor to share the Sultan’s bed. We saw the bed in one of the rooms- it was massive! It could definitely fit more than five people comfortably.

My first thoughts of the Harem were that it was beautiful, with ornate turquoise tiles all over the walls, and a nice shaded area that made it a cooler space than the rest of Istanbul. I can’t say that I would want to be brought in to live there. Even though the Harem was better than the outside world, the concubines were effectively stolen girls with talent or beauty, forced to live submissively to the Sultan. Still, it was great to learn about the history of the Palace and see the sites and treasures we have been learning about in Global Studies.

Whirling About Mosques

The first thing one sees when they sail into the harbor of Istanbul is the Turkish Flag. The white crescent moon and star on a red background looks beautiful against the backdrop of a sunrise and was a great introduction to what was a very new country and culture I was about to experience.

Numerous visitors told me that Istanbul has more to offer than just the 5 days I would be spending there. To compensate for my lack of time, I tried to fit in quite a bit of “must see” spots the first day. The first must see? The Hagia Sophia mosque.

Docked near the Asian side of Istanbul (yes, it is split into two continents!) I traveled with 10 girls to the old part of the town. The temperature was much nicer than the past two countries with a light breeze, but because it Turkey is primarily a Islamic country, and we were visiting during Ramadan, we were particularly sensitive to the cultural norm of wearing covered knees and bringing scarves to cover our shoulders. You can imagine wearing a long full-length skirt added a few degrees to the fairly sunny day. Still, the few mile walk to the Hagia Sophia was so worth it. Originally St. Sophia, a Christian church and the center of Byzantium, it was converted into the chief Mosque of Istanbul when the Turks conquered Constantinople in 1565. Most of the beautiful Christian frescos were plastered over, covering the biblical stories for another Islamic tale to be told. The large architectural structure of the Hagia Sophia is now a museum showing the contrast of where the Sultan sat, with carefully excavated frescos revealed behind on the wall. It was fascinating to me that such beautiful mosaics had been covered up for centuries, though I suppose I can’t blame them.

We next headed to the Blue Mosque right across the way. This mosque is still a working mosque, so we made sure to take off our shoes and cover our heads before entering silently. Where the Hagia Sophia had hard marble floors, the Blue Mosque had plush, soft carpet that your toes sort of sunk into. I can’t lie, it sort of smelled like feet, but the impressive multicolored ceiling and high archways distracted me from the lingering scent. 5 times a day the mosque attracts numerous amounts of people from all over the city for the call to prayer. Though there are plenty of mosques all around town, the blue mosque is a favorite because is as beautiful as it is big.

In the afternoon we wandered about the Grand Bazaar and the Spice market (which I will save for a later blog), and the evening I went on a trip to see the Whirling Dervishes. The Dervishes are usually men practicing Islam following the “sufi” path of extreme poverty (similar to Buddhist sadhus). One of the ways they practice this is by whirling, a specific kind of religious dance, bringing the dancer closer to God. Each dervish wears a large thumb shaped brown hat that signifies the tomb stone, and a black cloak representing death which is taken off during the dance to reveal a white robe representing heaven and the freedom from sins. The hour show began with traditional Islamic music which led into 5 men silently spinning. Eyes closed, the dervishes glided along in a circular motion, looking more like moving fluffy pastries than spiritual men. I couldn’t help but remember how I used to twirl around when I was younger, getting dizzy and eventually falling down in a heap of giggles. But these men were neither falling, laughing, or surprisingly puking from all the spinning they were doing. Though the ceremony was certainly worth seeing, I am not sure I would want to sit through a whole hour again. I kept waiting for some more excitement, but much like watching a paint dry, only one action was apparent… spinning, spinning, and more spinning.

It's All Greek To Me

My favorite days in port are usually the ones where I get to learn by doing. The SAS trips are a great way to get those hands on experiences, and there’s no hassle with the logistics! Though I would ‘t recommended overloading on trips, I am glad I signed up for as many cooking classes as possible.

My last day in Greece, I spent the morning at a cooking class. When we arrived we were lead into a room with all the ingredients we would need to assemble our creations. The chef explained to the group that today we would be making five or so dishes, splitting up into 5 different teams for a Top Chef experience. Before I left I watched Top Chef and Sweet Genius with Johnny, so I was familiar with the concept, and excited to try out my culinary skills on this new genre of food.

Normally I am very competitive about things that don’t really matter- for example card games, bowling, putt putt… cooking classes in Greece would probably fall under this category, but because the group was so large, I let someone else take the lead and I had the pleasure of photographing all of my friends. I helped a little, mashing potatoes, and chopping tomatoes here and there, but the group did a great job. Even with the annoying mime who kept coming over to taste our dishes before we were finished and making silly faces at us.

The dishes we completed consisted of Greek Salad, Greek Bruchetta, Tzatziki Sauce, Lentil Salad,  and a “Potato Salad.” I put the last dish in quotations because it was not the potato salad that we in the south have come to know and love. Though it started the same, chopping potatoes, but that was about the only similarity. The next ingredient we added was fish egg paste. Yes, fish eggs are added to the normally scrumptious meal… unfortunately I was not a huge fan. It tasted more like rotten fish than some cultural delicacy, but 1 out of 5 dishes that did not fit my pallet, that was pretty good! Our team chose to skip the fish paste entirely, which made it bearable to eat later, but other groups were scooping massive spoonfulls into the dish which I felt was a sure way to sink themselves in the competition. We tried to distinguish our team by making creative arrangements of food on the plate, which personally I thought added to the allure of our meal.

Our team ended up in 4^th place- probably because we lacked an entire ingredient- but in all honesty, everyone wins because we could keep the apron and we got to learn and enjoy cooking traditional Greek foods. I am including the recipe for Tzatziki sauce, because that was my favorite thing we made.

The Greek food didn’t stop there because Lindsay and I met my parents to have lunch at the yacht club and say our final goodbye to Andreas. I wanted to say again, a huge thank you for everything he did for my family and I. I certainly will be coming back to Greece soon to visit him. He gave a wonderful impression of Greece and it’s culture. And Andreas, if you are reading this, you made Greece my favorite country on this trip. Thank You!

Tzatziki Sauce

Ingredients

• 1 (32 ounce) container plain low-fat yogurt
• 1/2 English cucumber with peel, grated
• 1 clove garlic, pressed
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
• 3 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1 tablespoon fresh ground black pepper

Directions

Stir together yogurt, grated cucumber, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil in a bowl. Add lemon zest, dill, salt, and pepper; whisk until smooth. Pour into a serving dish, cover tightly, and refrigerate 8 hours before serving.

Three Island Tour

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from this tropic port

Aboard this tiny ship.

The third day in Greece Andreas had arranged for us to take a 3 island tour in the nearby Saronic coast. Though not quite Gilligan’s Island status, we did enjoy island hopping to Poros, Hydra, and Aegina (it seems I have had the opportunity to do lots of island hopping of this trip- I better not get used to it). If we were staying the weekend and the winds were calmer we would have gone to Andreas’ island, but the trip he set up for us was wonderful.

We first went to the island of Poros, one of the further islands off the mainland. We were only allotted 45 minutes to look around, really just enough time to stretch our legs, but my family made the most of it. My mom is a baklava fiend, so the first place we headed was the pastry shop. The last time we were in Greece, i'm pretty sure she ate baklava for breakfast, lunch, and dinner... but so far, three days in and this was her first taste. Of course between the two, both my parents ordered three- to "try each kind." And if they could smuggle it on the ship, I know they would. I personally am not a fan of baklava, but I did try the treat and the honey that was drizzled over the flaky pastry was to die for.

When we embarked back on our little ship (it is a ship because it has a life boat and only ships carry, boats, not the other way around) the staff marked us as VIP. It seems Andreas had outdone himself again. The short cruise was much more enjoyable with free drinks, our own private cabin, and the captain even invited us to drive the ship! I didn't know that ships were still steered by the pirate looking steering wheel, but I confidently grabbed each side and led us through the Saronic waters. Of course when we went through a narrow straight of islands they asked me to step aside and let the crew do the work, only so I wouldn't be stressed on my vacation. How very considerate of them!

The second island we docked at was the island of Hydra. Known for its rocky coast and nice shopping, we hopped off the Aegean Glory (the name of our ship) and tried to keep up appearances of "VIP"... you can see in the picture my family is a bit out of place. We did however enjoy a nice stroll, looking into every shop. The jewelry was stunning, though a bit pricey for my taste, and the view was even better. I was originally bummed that I wasn't going to make it to Santorini because that was where Mamma Mia was filmed on the picturesque Greek Island, but Hydra was a great substitute. The water was a rich blue sapphire color that complemented the blue and white architecture around town. My favorite part was the amount of cats that wandered the streets of Hydra. These cats were much more friendly and did not beg like other cats in Greece. I imagine they were pretty content with the food and beautiful scenery just as I was.

Our third island was Aegina. This island was the biggest and closest to Athens. Most Athenians have summer homes here and go to have a weekend getaway out of the city. We were able to take a tour of the island by bus which was a nice way to see the entirety of the land, and learned a few things along the way. Apparently Aegina only has 5,000 inhabitants, but originally in ancient times it was highly populated and a strong power in the Saronic seas. In fact, Athens frequently called upon their help to fight off unwanted enemies, but feared Aegina may become more powerful than the mainland city, so the ships back to Aegina were burned. The powerful city declined from there, however even today the island seems to be somewhat self sufficient. It is rich with olive and pistachio resources so it is said that Aegina is not feeling the stress of the economy as much as the rest of Greece.

The tour came to a close just as the sun was setting, which was a nice way to come back into the harbor. Completely exhausted, despite the royal treatment, we met up with my brother to have a gyro and then head back to the ship. We were invited to the yacht club with Andreas the next day, after my cooking class, so we wanted to fresh and rested for our last day in port!