En el Muelle de San Blas

I'm back and I'm black!! (or just really tanned).

I know it's been a minute since I've posted but I just wanted to make sure you're paying attention. I went to Panama for a week for a friend's wedding and to explore the country a bit. As much as I'd like to recap with a travel journal-esque post, the sights, sounds, tastes, smells and experiences feel too sacred to just rattle off about on my blog. I'm keeping my Panama trip locked away in a small corner of my mind and memory, for now.

But I will take you to San Blas. . . because I think it needs the credit and recognition. The San Blas islands are an archipelago in the northeast, Caribbean coast of Panama. Over 300 islands scattered across the Caribbean make up this community, that is inhabited by the Kuna Indians. Going to San Blas is almost like stepping back a few hundred years in time, and the region is an untouched, very un-touristic gem. After a bit of planning and research, I anticipated camping or sleeping on sand underneath a million stars, surviving on a diet of coconuts, pineapples and fish, and spending every waking hour in the clear water. I got 2 out of 3 done. Thankfully, the tour guide suggested the main island's hotel, which meant I would have a mattress in a cabin that had plumbing and cold showers (which are considered luxuries in the islands). This was the closest I've come to "slumming it" on a trip. If you know me, you would understand what I'm talking about.

The Kuna are the second smallest people in the world. The women rarely smile, but show their warmth and hospitality effortlessly. They spoke a different dialect of spanish, but I was still able to communicate them with the little spanish I knew. Birthdays are not celebrated, and the Kuna pass their days without keeping track of time or their age. The workday begins at dawn and ends just before dusk. Each island represented a specific purpose or marketable item; you went to Nalunega to pick up some from lobsters for dinner; and then to Corbiski for some toilet paper or bleach; then to Dog Island for some of the nicer hand-made crafts and snorkeling by the sunken ship. The Kuna had simple lives, and they were quite happy; they lived day-to-day simply earning a living, and raising their children. That was their sole purpose.

We "commuted" via a small motorboat for about 30 minutes between each island. You don't know what sunburn is until you're out in the middle of the sea, in the middle of the day, directly under the Panamanian sunlight. My mid-eastern skin is still peeling for the first time in my entire life. I'm not sure if words can capture the beauty of the sea that I saw. I've been to a lot of "vaca/resort" destinations, but no other place I've seen so far is as breathtakingly aquamarine and as calm as the Caribbean in San Blas. Even on the boat, in the middle of the ocean where the sea floor was probably 60-70 feet down, we could clearly see the stingrays and fish skimming the bottom. There just are no words.



Sola en el olvido,
Sola en su espiritu,
Sola con su amor el mar,
Sola, en el muelle de San Blas.
-Mana

Ode to the City that Never Sleeps, and Gives you Food Poisoning to Boot

I have finally decided that when, or if, I ever end up living in New York City, I will have to have money growing out of my ears. Seriously. I'll have to be so rich that it doesn't even phase me when I dole out $12 for a movie ticket or $50 for spaghetti and meatballs (which I end up puking several hours later anyway). I have been to NYC over a dozen times, and every time I manage to see a part of town I had never seen before. To be bored in this city is to be completely blind and uninspired. It never gets old. Over the years as I have visited various friends, I see the same lifestyle pattern among all of them - even if they are from different social circles. There is something about this city that sucks you into the consumerist, materialistic, high-society-esque competition. You are not a true New Yorker unless you have certain items or social activities to show for it. Beelining to 5th Avenue to throw down a couple thousand at Prada, Gucci or Ferragamo for wallets, belts or shirts. Casually strolling into a watch store to try on $8000 watches (brands I've never heard that make Rado and Cartier seem trite). Packing your closet with Jimmy Choos, Manolo Blahniks and Chloe bags (thanks to Carrie Bradshaw's influence). Leaving your stainless steel refrigerator immaculately empty but for a few redbulls and countless bottles of champagne and vodka. "Why cook when there are over 10,000 restaurants in this city?" I won't argue with that.

I can't judge - this is New York. These are just a few of the many unique, extravagant, flamboyant and loveable characteristics that make this city. It's brimming with financiers, bankers, lawyers, businessmen, CEO's and other fancy titles. It's just that I can't help but be taken aback during every visit. It never ceases to amaze me. Every New Yorker has an "image" to uphold. There are certain standards, almost expected by your peers and faceless neighbors, to live by if you choose to reside in Manhattan. I don't know how students survive this city.

Nevertheless, I am always enticed. I have a love-hate relationship with New York City. I hate the overbearingness, fast-pace and superficiality when I'm there, but still manage to deeply crave the contrasting architecture, modernity and street personalities when I return to the conservative, drab town we call Washington DC. So I keep myself at a distance. Like a bad boy I have had a crush on my whole life, I know he is not good for my soul. He is certainly not comforting or able to provide warm companionship. He is not compatible with my heart, nor is he a viable long-term option. No matter how many friends I am surrounded by, the city swallows me whole and flaunts an air of loneliness. But he still offers unforgettable experiences that no other can. I will continue to enjoy sporadic flings with him when I crave his bold company, but will eventually run back to the safe and comforting arms of the place I call home.

Antalya, Turkey

Antalya was exactly the kind of vacation I needed in Turkey. Istanbul was fun and exotic, blah blah, but very polluted, hectic, hot, crowded and overwhelming. My BFF, who I was visiting in Turkey, had never heard of Antalya, except through other study-abroad students. I had only heard about it through my parents who had gone there on vacation 40-some years ago, and when a tourist-targeted bombing occurred there last summer. Woohoo! (In fact, everytime we left and arrived in a vehicle, the hotel would do a bomb search at the entrance). Anyway, we did the R&R, umbrella-drinks-on-the-beach, swimming in the warm sea, open-air-dance-club thing, and I highly recommend it. A couple observations: absolutely NO American tourists, lots of Arab visitors, the old town isn't worth visiting, Turks are better looking in Antalya, and hotels try to trick you into going to ritzy, touristic, over-priced restaurants. The best meal we had was at an outdoor cafe on a cliff overlooking the sea and beaches - despite the bastards running out of nargile-tobacco. It was truly my first "adult" vacation (with a friend, without family, paid for ourselves, planned by yours truly, etc.). And best of all, quality BFF time (no comments please).

Coming to America

I'll be frank: it fucking sucks to be back. Sorry to my loyal readers (all 5 of you), I've been out of commission for the past week. Went to Antalya (which I'll post about later) and had to do last minute shopping in Istanbul before flying back. And the lovely British Airways, which I'll probably never fly again, lost my suitcase. I finally got it at 1am last night via courier.

It's becoming more common that when I travel, I really dread coming back. I mean, at this point, it could just be b/c I hate my mundane job but that will soon be remedied when I go back to school so why else would I not want to come back home? I usually miss my close friends - hence why I take so many photos and video to share the experiences. I miss my family - I normally call or email everyday. I love my bed - so much that I DREAM about it. I love my neighborhood - the shopping is endless :). More often than not, I crave the ability to complain or report to a higher legitimate authority when I'm dicked over in a restaurant/cab/store/bank or harrassed/stalked or treated unjustly abroad. So why not miss the convenient, comfortable lush life I have in America? Because it's so goddamn repetitive, monotonous and dull. I have had friends who go abroad for months or years and upon return they are astounded by the fact that everything has stayed exactly the same at home in the States.

But then again I only have the opportunity to leave no longer than a couple weeks at a time. Who knows if I'd feel the same if I actually had to live in a foreign country. What else could London, Istanbul, Paris, Nice, Tehran, Isfahan, Madrid, etc. be other than exotic and refreshing, particularly in comparison to American life?

No specific point to this post, just saying. The royal penis is clean, your highness. Let's hear it for my band, Sexual Chocolate.

Niye Yok Kebap?

Subject: "Why no kebab?"

Food:
I never thought I'd say this but...I've become a vegetarian. Ok only on this Turkey trip. I had the obligatory fish and chips in London just last week but as soon as I set foot in Istanbul, I have lost any desire to eat fish, meat or poultry. No offense to the kind Turks here but the smell of the souvlaki, fish and various other unknown meats is not very enticing to me. One of my traveling companions is a vegetarian but I promise you she has had no influence on me and my eating habits - for years I've even tried to convert her to a carnivore. Don't worry, I've had my fill of delicious fruits, eggplant, pasta, rice, beans, hummus, stuffed tomatoes, nuts and bread. But I'm hitting Moby as soon as I get back to DC.

People:
Hardworking but at the same time they enjoy life. Less attractive than I expected but still very exotic. A curiousity towards Americans; some have tried to practice their English with us but it's hard not to be skeptical of them. You may have heard that American women have a reputation of being, how should I say, easy? abroad. A lot of Turkish men approach on the intention of getting laid so at times it's hard to know if their intentions are otherwise. Luckily, I've fooled most, if not all, into thinking I'm Turkish so the men look but NOTHING beyond looking. When shopping, I speak with a thick Persian accent. They ask where I'm from. I [lie and] say Tehran. They give me thumbs up with an enthusiastic "IRAN! Very good!" followed by a 25%-50% discount. They're big fans of Iranians. Thank you, Ahmadinejad. Another observation: very few women in the streets. Where the hell are they? They seem to come out late at night with their hejabs, sitting on their doorstep, gossiping with other female neighbors. I don't know if the male:female ratio here is just ridiculously high, or if women just never leave the house. Also, people are more lively and friendly on the Asian side. The Turks on the European side seem to only be after tourist money. We've already argued, negotiated and corrected bills at restaurants and taxis.

Sights and Sounds:
Ah, the sound of prayer five times a day. The salt man walking through the neighborhood yelling "SALT" at freakin' 7 in the morning. The cats screeching and fighting in the alleys in the middle of the night. The drinking of tea every 10 minutes by every single Turk - even in the scorching heat of the summer. The lavish fruit and spice markets in the streets. The smell of pastries and bread at every turn. All remind me of Iran except, wait, I'm walking around in a skirt, tank top and sandals with my hair free-flowing... Yeah, it's tempting to try to compare Istanbul with something I'm familiar with but I really can't. Culturally, Turks and Persians share a lot of similarities but this country is unlike any place I've been.

On the Itinerary: Britain & Turkey

I will have exactly 7.0 hours to see London on my way to Istanbul tomorrow. Ok so I'm not exactly "going to England," but my layover is long enough that I can take the 15 min. Heathrow Express Train into the city and explore a city I've never seen before. For approximately 4-5 hours. Yeah. I'll probably just breeze through the city on one of those touristy riverboat cruises. The Live Earth Concert will be going on at Wembley AND the bomb scares last week were in the center of Picadilly Circus so I'll have to deal with a lot of British traffic tomorrow. More importantly, cross your fingers that I can talk my way into an available first class seat on the plane. Sometimes it just takes a little luck and a wink and a smile (I swear that's all it takes) for an upgrade. What should I expect in Turkey? I have no idea. I have a feeling I'll be making a lot of comparisons to Iran - this will be the only other Muslim country I will have visited (so far). I plan to take a lot of pictures, write, spend quality time with a close friend and definitely relax. I hope to have some interaction with the people (other than haggling over jewelry in the bazaar). Stay posted, I will blog from Turkey. Cup of cey and a puff of nargile to you all.