RIP, my delicious pesto :-(

I suffered a number of regretable losses on the long journey home. Part of the blame lies with airlines. Much of the blame lies with me, as I should have known better. And still more blame lies with those unfeeling French.

Oh, the airlines. I know they're going broke and everything, but these fees on checked baggage are really making the traveling experience that much more stressful. For domestic flights I'm almost used to the idea of $25 for a single checked bag and the resulting chaos that adds to the carry-on baggage stowage situation, where adults regularly bicker over whether that shopping bag really NEEDS to be stored overhead and who is entitled to what space. Let alone the elbowing that occurs once "Zone 4" is finally called and the late schmucks scramble to grab whatever bin space may remain. I'm almost used to it.

Fortunately, for international flights your first checked bag is free. Thank god, because it's no fun to travel 6+ time zones away for a short enough time to survive on the contents of a carry-on. For Italy, I managed to pack everything in a single large backpack, and packed an empty duffle for the inevitable purchases to come. A clever idea (not mine), which would have been that much more fantastic if I could check two bags coming home. Without paying an extra €55 ($73!!!) for the second checked bag, that is. (Thank god that wasn't the case when I returned from Prague! I went beyond the laws of physics packing for that one, and still ended up with two checked and two good-thing-no-one-noticed carry-on suitcases.) Anyway, the plan was to use the duffel as a full-sized carry on.

This brings me to part 2: my stupidity. I was too exhausted the last night before to thoroughly go through my bags and think through what was going in what. This Italy trip included carrying bags over long distances and a TON of stairs so I had distributed the weight as required, but in re-packing and moving my liquids to the main pack to-be-checked (thanks again, useless airline regulation), I remembered only to move that one remaining bottle of wine, and completely forgot about the smaller olive oil bottles, etc. purchased five days before.

So, when K and I arrived at FCO at 5am for our flights home to the US (on about 4 hr sleep), I checked one bag, fought an unfriendly airline lady over whether my carry-on duffel properly fit the length regulations for a carry on (she tried to make me throw things away or pay the extra €55/$73 for it), and moved on to the security baggage screening line. The screening people of course had technology on their side instead of just a sleepy brain, and found the rogue olive oil and limoncello bottles I'd bought as gifts right away. As my checked pack was already on its way to Baggage Land, my only options were

1. to go back through lines more ridiculous than you'd think possible at 5am to check in again AND pay €55/$73 for that second bag, or
2. to toss them.

Although downing the bottles of limoncello yumminess could have been a third possibility, I suppose, assuming they could then cart our drunk selves to the gate. :-) So, I sadly tossed the bottles, and moved on with my life.

We connected through Paris/ Charles de Gaulle, which veteran travelers will know requires going through security once again for any terminal changes (and I've never had the fortune of avoiding a terminal change at CDG). This time though, I figured I was in the clear. Italian guards had already cleared my bag right? And there must be some Mussolini-era thoroughness to them, yes? All good.

And then the French guardsfound my jar of pesto.

I should say that this pesto, purchased in Cinque Terre which is also the birthplace of pesto, is amazing. I love pesto anyway, but the folks in Cinque Terre opened my eyes to new fanastic possibilities. Thick, garlicy, flavorful pesto in anything you can think of (including pesto lasagna, by the way, which was FANTASTIC!). And I had bought a jar of my very own. And then stupidly left it packed in my carry-on.

The Italians were forgiving... it was pesto after all! The French, though... were not. Apparently the little green jar of crushed basil, pinenuts, garlic, and cheese deliciousness constituted a partially-liquid security concern to CDG. I can just imagine the headlines now: Rogue Pesto Bomber Creates Culinary Chaos in Terminal E. So, they made me throw away my beloved pesto. This time, downing it right there in the security line felt like a far less desperate option. But I kept my dignity and instead watched in great sadness as it was carted away.

And the French claim to appreciate food. HA!!

Ah well, cé la vie... :-(

And... back!

Today we returned from Italy to the States -- K and me to Philly, S to Minneapolis. Great trip to read about, huh?

Yeah, sorry loyal readers -- found less time and opportunity for updates than I'd thought. But, don't you worry, I filled the time well with adventures, gorgeous sights, and -- yes -- mishaps galore. I plan to backtrack and write everything up over the next few days. In the meantime, a few teaser photos.

Stuck in Philly :-( but with Captain Doctor Kelley

Our flight from Philly to Detroit was supposed to take off about an hour ago, yet here we are, still grounded. My friend S, flying from Minneapolis to Detroit so we could fly together to Rome, has been grounded too. So.... we'll see. Hopefully we won't miss our connection or time in Rome.

Before I cast this time as a total waste, there HAS been one highlight: K and I were given a tour of the plane's cockpit! Officially only children were invited, but fortunately we have no shame. ;-)

We met the Captain, D.R. Kelly, whom I want to imagine his name is Donald but K is calling him Doctor Kelly. Why not? :) We learned Dr Kelly has been flying planes since the 80s, and apparently the autopilot does everything from flying, takeoffs, and landings, except under extreme weather conditions. Not sure that's reassuring, but okay.

In any case, we took pictures with Captain Doctor Kelly, and it was nice to have a distraction adventure while we sat on the runway!

(Update: turned out that runway sit was an hour or two longer than expected....)

In Athens, Greece!

Yesterday I arrived in Athens, where I'm presenting a paper at EACL. It's my first time in Greece, so I'm excited to explore!

Initial observations:

• So far, no real travel mishaps! This either indicates that I'm becoming an expert traveler, or that I'm running out of new things that can go wrong. ;-)
• Pollution and smoking. There's too much of both here, and I'm going to get a year's fix of exhaust inhalation within the next few days...
• The weather is beautiful... but HUMID so far! I hope that I packed appropriately. The forecast said high of ~75, low of ~45 each day this week, but it's definitely feeling warmer, especially as the trains don't seem to have AC. Lots of stickiness; hopefully it will go away before I climb up to Acropolis and the Parthenon later this week!

But I don't mean to sound negative at all. Like I said, I'm excited. :-) I've only walked around briefly, but wandering several blocks south of my hotel to catch a different metro line, I caught a glimpse of the Acropolis area. Lots to see! And I'll post pictures when I can.

My husband wouldn't like it.

To be clear, I do not have a husband, though my boyfriend of six years is pretty close. However, this has become my refrain while wandering alone in Morocco, which really annoys me to no end.

But, I've received several date offers, typically just when walking down the one main street connecting my hotel to the conference center, and somehow just saying "no, but thank you" or "sorry, I'm on my way to meet people" hasn't been enough. These guys are really persistent. Maybe it's those scandalously bare arms of mine? That was my one resistance in dressing for Morocco... I'll wear skirts and cover my shoulders, but damned if I wear long sleeves in Africa. :-)

I'm now telling all men whom I speak to for more than about a minute that the ring on my finger is my wedding ring... which only partially discourages them. Also, some cheek kisses after sales (seems maybe normal for Arab men, but hard to imagine them doing that to women...), and friendly hands on my arms and back as I'm being "guided" or sold to. Nothing obscene like was mentioned online, but I'm still a little uncomfortable... not sure what to think. Reasonable, or copping feels? I'm thinking they're just showing off for the Western women. What's the best response in Arabic, besides "la" ("no"), I wonder?

Crap goes the credit card

Argh... I've gotten my credit card account frozen due to "unusual credit activity", and, conveniently, I can't unfreeze it until I can call a 1-800 number. From the U.S., obviously. Great.

The unusual activity may have been the act of using it in Morocco, but more likely it was due to the situation I got myself in during my day of wandering yesterday.

Day 0.5 while I wandered the medina with a few conference mates I met on the flight from Casablanca, I saw some hand stitched quilted blankets that I loved. So, my first full day after a few hours of wandering and practicing my bargaining skills, I decided to give it a go. I went to a shop where I'd seen some the previous day and asked to see a range of colors and tried to begin the process of bargaining. The guy charmed me into considering buying several instead of just one, and as I thought they might be enjoyed by others as well I eventually agreed. 30 minutes of negotiation over, we settled on a price... then realized that he didn't have a way to charge my credit card, and I definitely didn't have that cash on me. While it may seem obvious that credit cards aren't guaranteed, I'd had better luck at other places and thought they might be able to accommodate.

Anyway, the sales guy, panicked at the thought of losing the big sale he'd worked on, offered to walk with me down the plaza to an ATM. I agreed, a little embarrassed at the situation. Which was only then made worse when I realized that I was carrying only my credit card -- and not my check card -- around. Cash rates for a credit card are abysmal, but again, I was a little uncomfortable already and the guy was accommodating.

Next problem: putting my card in the ATM I realized that I'd never used it for cash before, and my regular PIN wasn't going to work. I tried to guess what the number was twice, then gave up. The sales guy wasn't having it though, so we went to one more ATM, where my next possible number also failed.

Final plan, which probably is NOT what the State department would recommend: the sales guy and I took a cab back to my hotel where my other card waited, then tried to get cash from the hotel exchange desk (once again, they're out of dirham!), and finally to an ATM. Check card gives me cash; guy gives me blankets.

And, after our bonding experience, he also gives me his number, email address, a request to join him at the disco that night (he tried to make me promise before giving me said blankets, but I demurred), and finally asked for us to take the picture you see here.

Not sure all that was worth getting my credit card canceled, but perhaps there are life lessons to be found in any case. :-) Beyond always carry your debit card.

Bathing myself, continued

Somehow, wherever I travel, I manage to have problems bathing. In Prague, of course, my apartment had a hose shower (coming from the bathtub), but no shower curtain and no place to *hang* the shower head (if I wanted water, one hand had to hold it over myself the whole time), so I managed to regularly flood the bathroom floor until I finally arm-twisted the accommodation service into finding a removable shower curtain for me.

The morning of Day 2 in Morocco (or Day 1, if the first, showerless with no luggage, day is considered Day 0), I slipped in my bathtub. Not only that, but I tried to carefully step in holding onto the metal towel rack above the tub, which immediately pulled out of the drywall (hence the fall). All towel, by the way: immediately soaked. My right knee is killing me. Bathroom partially flooded, and immediately the towels on the fallen bar fell into shower. And, I can't figure out how to drain the tub. Housekeeping did it... maybe it was just super slow. Adventure for tomorrow morning.

Set the bar low, I always say. So, my shower this morning ought to have been a piece of cake. And it was definitely a partial improvement.

I figured out why I fell in the shower -- while I'd assumed that the far end of the tub would be a box like the watery end, it turns out it's a smooth gradual slope, meaning the real bottom of the tub doesn't start until about three feet in. Stepping on sloping wet surfaces: not so good for balance. However the flooding appears unavoidable. There's a platform on the back end of the tub where the curtain doesn't go, which quickly gets covered with water and drips all of this water onto the floor. Flooding is a big problem, partly so I don't feel a need to hide from the cleaning staff, but also because my slippers become beyond slippery if the smooth rubber bottoms get at all wet. Enter fall #2. My joints are never going to forgive me.

Goal for the conference: leave Marrakesh hotel one morning with a dry bathroom floor. It's important to dream big, I know.

Getting lost in Marrakesh

I wandered Marrakesh alone all day, an experience in itself though I'm glad I did it.

I got lost plenty, made worse by the fact that most roads (even major ones) are often not marked with names, are not straight despite appearances on the map, and for the most part, those names are not on my map anyway! And made again worse by the fact that, with the streets always bending and changing, it's impossible not to get lost without holding a map, which only makes you be pounced on by 100 "unofficial guides" willing to nicely lead you (almost) to where you wanted to go, then charge a fee. Seriously -- everytime I pulled a map out. I would try to peek through my bag or find a quiet corner, but they always found me and were very difficult to shake. Anyway, didn't pull out maps often, no signs, and many times wandering in circles, which also makes it harder to shake the shopkeepers, madly clicking their tongues and screaming "hello, miss! Here, here!" in every language they can think of.

New day, new adventures

I slept well (starting around 8pm and skipped dinner, but it was worth it), and the conference starts tomorrow, so I had all day today to explore and get thoroughly lost in the city and old medina (means "town" in Arabic) all day. And it was exhilarating.

So much to see! I bought an Eyewitness Guide to Morocco in preparation for my trip. Though many swear by the Lonely Planet guides (which my traveling buddy Ves has anyway), my guide has done me well (reconfirmed at end of trip as well). It's not so great for finding hotels and restaurants, as well as many "big picture" details (like where to find walking tours, etc.), but the history sections at the beginning of the guide were incredibly informative, and the pictures and descriptions of the sites are great. Especially important since in Morocco, if there's a non-Arabic description of anything, it's only in French. My Arabic is good enough to pronounce words I see and exchange niceties, and my French is probably just worse than that, so having the guide to give a good description was important in showing myself around town.

I took many pictures of everything I saw... too much to describe individually, though I did what I could on the photos themselves. (Thanks to Ves... I stole many of his pictures too, when his were better). I extracted a pseudo-"best of" and posted them here:
Today was packed full of adventures and mishaps which will no doubt richen my experience. :-) I'm attempting to write a journal of some of these experiences, but doubt I'll have time to keep it up. In the meantime,

• I'm also getting some weird reactions when I say I'm American (like unprompted "don't worry, America and Morocco are good friends"), so I'm now saying my name is Katie and I'm from near London when asked. ;-) So much for doing as the Romans do.
  

Fool me once...

Drats, foiled again!

First off, I admit that the title of this post was just a little bit of an excuse to call attention to one of my favorite Bush quotes.

With that out of the way, I really did have a point here. :-P And that point, it turns out, is mushrooms. If you know me, you know that I do my best to be open-minded with food... but mushrooms and olives are where I draw the line. Or at least try to.


Back in August 2004, I was just beginning to start traveling (my only previous lone trip to Europe was Prague in March 2004 -- who knew I'd be starting a trend?). I was in Geneva, Switzerland for a conference, and went out to dinner with some colleagues. The menu was in French, as that's what most of the western Swiss speak. I asked the girls I was eating with to translate the menu, and I chose what I wanted. When it came time to order, I wanted to be self-sufficient so I ordered for myself, in French. And it turns out, I remembered the wrong thing! ;-) I was one line off. The meal arrived, and I was expecting something like pasta... and it's a bowl of mushrooms! only mushrooms! in some sort of gravy sauce! I was horrified. I ate nearly half of it, then finally confessed to the other girls what I did and one was nice and traded the rest of her meal with me. ;)

Of course, after that experience I was certain to memorize the word for mushroom -- champignon in french -- and since then, for each country I visit, I make sure to learn the word for mushroom so I can avoid it. A foolproof plan.

And THEN -- Germany foiled my plan!

A few nights ago in Germany, I again went to the restaurant below my hotel to get a pizza for dinner. Straightforward, yes? After almost two weeks in town, I knew a few German food words, and "Champignon" (just like the French work) was early on my word-spotting list. Based on my confidence, combined with cheapness, I ordered one of the more simple pizzas from the menu. Pizza arrives... COVERED with mushrooms!!

For all you fellow mushroom haters who may choose to wander Germany in the future: it turns out there's a second, secret word! "Pilzen". I felt tricked :) I saw that word on the menu (with the words for cheese, tomato, and pepperoni which I knew), but thought of the beer ("Pils" in German, "Pilsner" in Czech") and figured it was just a spice of some sort.

Again, I sucked it up and ate the mushrooms. Ay de mi. :-P

On the train: lovin' the leaves

Though when I passed through Pittsburgh and Ohio recently to attend my cousin Heather's bridal shower, I found that autumn had long passed, Baltimore has been going through a late and extended beautiful fall these past few weeks. I'm thrilled to report that this area of Germany looks to be about the same. The views from my train from Frankfurt to Saarbrucken (3hr, not nearly as eventful as my last pass through this area) have been quiet lovely.

I'm afraid to pull out my camera though for fear of looking like the ultimate tourist -- not that reading Rick Steves' classic "German Phrase Book and Dictionary" hasn't given me away! -- but I've got a good hour left on the train so I may change my mind yet, especially if my car empties out.

Even the rows of crops seem to change a variety of colors. I wasn't expecting that! I don't typically think of crops as deciduous, but I guess it depends on what types of crops they are.

Speaking of the Rick Steves' book (and yes, he does apostrophize that way), thanks much to Simil for letting me borrow it! It's concise and well-organized; definitely I'll be going into this Germany trip slightly more prepared than last March's trip, when I was too overwhelmed with trying to absorb Czech (alas, to no avail) to worry about the correct way to say "good morning" in German. I don't expect to need German much this trip either, but I'll at least give it a go.

Just as I admired the German scenary here in.... [glancing out the train window -- where am I? Fahrkarten? Whoops, no, that's the ticket counter I think. ;-) I don't see the sign...] anyway, small little German town en route to Saarbrucken. [Sobernheim.] But between all of the traditional little houses, etc, I just saw the "Chicago Sports Bar", which if I'm not mistaken also offers kareoke. Funny the things that pop up where you don't expect them. :-)

My train is running a good 20 minutes late.... I'm thrilled that I caught the one route from Frankfurt to Saarbrucken which didn't require transfers. :-) I definitely trust myself more than in my early travels, but this is just easier.

It's raining now, as weather.com warned me to expect for at least the next 10 days. So much for my nice out-the-window-colorful-crops photos. Oh well, hopefully there'll be nice scenary to record in Saarbrucken.

Travels to Saarbrucken, Germany

I’m writing this as I sit on the train from Mainz, Germany to my final destination of Saarbrucken, where I’ll spend the next week working at Saarland University. (Note: post written Monday 3/13, posted 3/14). The plan was fly Prague -> Frankfurt and take train(s) southwest to Saarbrucken, estimated 1.5+2 hrs. It’s been a much longer travel than I expected. My very first lone train ride (not counting the MARC to DC) and the rest of my traveling day hasn’t been the cleanest, but it looks to all work out in the end (of course, I’m not checked into the hotel yet…).

Yesterday, planned travel day: surprise snowstorm, and the city kind of choked. There were several inches on the ground and almost no roads were really cleared, but it didn’t even occur to me til I was almost at the airport that things might be shut down. Sure enough, soon as I arrive I see that my flight was cancelled, and soon after the airport was announced closed until late that evening. After 2 hours in a slow line to reschedule my flight, I picked a morning flight for the next day instead of taking my chances for the evening. As it turned out, things did open and I could have taken off at 7pm… but an extra 8 hrs at the airport without a guarantee just didn’t seem worth it.

The Prague airport was open today. I got there a little more than an hour before my 10:20 flight, but just checking in took almost 45 minutes so I was a little panicked. It wasn’t just me though -- everyone surrounding me was on the 10:20 flight, the desk people just seemed extraordinarily slow. It turned out that the airline woman yesterday didn’t actually switch my flight to today like she said she had, but the rush of getting everyone through the line worked to my advantage I guess -- the woman who checked me in just sighed and added me to the flight right then to keep things moving. The flight left Prague ~20 min late, prob because of the delay in checking everyone in, but it worked out okay.

There’s a small train station in the Frankfurt airport; I bought tix for a 1:23 train, but after waiting from 1pm, when a train arrived at 1:15, I got on assuming it was early or would wait. Of course, all signs were in Germany, but Mainz, the city I needed, seemed to be on the sign so I went with it. And of course… wrong train. It shared routes with my train til the 2nd-to-last stop so I didn’t realize til it was too late. I took an extra train to get from Weisbaren (??) where I ended up to Mainz, hoping noone would check my ticket to see what happened (they didn’t). The mistake of not waiting 5 min for the correct train has pushed my schedule over 2 hr behind though, on top of the day behind I already started from the snow. I just hope that the Saarland people didn’t have too much planned for me. It turns out my Vodaphone mobile service doesn’t work here either; a disappointment since Vodaphone is all over Europe. Having one service cover the entire U.S. has spoiled me I guess. Not worth it to buy prepaid Germany service for a week though, with the overhead of buying the card and the min minutes necessary to buy.

One thing to mention though -- the west Germany landscape has indeed been pretty beautiful; it’s been nice to see it by train. I’m going by train from Saarbrucken to Paris next weekend, so I think that will be even better. Prague is lucky its got the beautiful buildings and architecture and history working for it. I miss seeing mountains.