Go Big And Go Home

Well guys, It's been a while, hasn't it?

Sorry about that.  <Insert sheepish grin here.>

So, I'm back in California.  Since October 2015, as a matter of fact.  Yeah, I know, I've always been the queen of procrastination, but this is probably a new record even for me.  The first thing that happened was I had a wee accident that resulted in multiple broken bones, which obviously distracted me, and the resulting recovery was, to be honest, demotivating.  Not that I haven't been up to anything, because as a matter of fact I've been wandering, albeit with a home base rather than just winging it.

Anyway, here's the long and short of my terribly impromptu retirement from the rogue traveler's life and what I've been up to since returning home.

I had arrived in Laos just a few days before my birthday, achieving my goal of 27 countries in my 27th year (not bad, eh?).  After a few days in Luang Prabang I caught a "bus" down to Vang Vieng. In retrospect I should have guessed my time there would be interesting to say the least after we hit a pig in the road and then had to insist our driver not pack the poor dead creature in the back of van on top of our bags.  Welcome to Southeast Asia! 

Despite Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, Laos edit., I made it to Vang Vieng and spent a quiet few days reading and eating surprisingly decent pizza.  Vang Vieng has a reputation as a party town but it wasn't until the last night I planned to be there that I made the fateful decision to go out, having run into a travel acquaintance that afternoon.  

Why not go out for a few beers at Sakura Bar?

Two broken bones in your leg is a pretty good why not.

I had a couple drinks, scored a free tank top, and then collided with a very, very drunk Australian, resulting in a mutual hitting of the deck with myself coming out of the encounter with an epic spiral fracture in my left tibia and a nasty break in the fibula just for good measure. 

Lucky for me immediately after the moment of impact two amazing ladies came into the bar, and seeing me in distress on the floor surrounded by a circle of people (who were all clearly hoping someone else would take charge) took matters into their own hands and got shit taken care of.  Next thing I knew I had been introduced to Sina and Katie who rapid-fire commandeered a tuk tuk in lieu of an ambulance and recruited Glen (random Brit out for a few beers) to carry me out to my chariot.  Glen looked me directly in the eye, asked me to trust him, the girls gave me their hands to squeeze, and off we went.

I'll spare you the saga of what happened next.  Basically they transferred me (seven hours later) to the trauma hospital in Vientiane (three hours south over poorly managed roads in a janky splint), where someone finally gave me the broken-English low down on what I was dealing with; "you need surgery if you want to walk again."  

Ultimate reality check.

All in all I spent about four days in the trauma hospital before I was able to get a flight home.  No nursing staff except for a morning blood pressure and temp checkup, nobody that spoke English except hospital administrators, no access to wifi (or anything resembling the modern world), no pain medication stronger than aspirin (in a country where the pharmacies are veritable candy stores for the unprescribed, oh the irony...).  I had my leg set in plaster two separate times with no pain medication, just two guys casually aligning my bones while I hollered expletives and curses.  Learn from me: do not break a leg in Laos.

The good that came out of all this was the constant reassurance of the human kindness.  Strangers picked my broken body up off the floor and brought me to help, called my parents, withdrew money for me, packed my things, and stayed with me for hours awaiting my transfer.  Strangers, Laotian mamas caring for their children in our shared room, made sure I was eating and drinking water and held their hands to their hearts and cried with me when I was scared and alone.  A stranger, the hospital director, came to my bedside daily and skyped with my mom and helped to find me a way home.  And yet another stranger, a friend of a friend of a friend, found me in the hospital and brought me food and water and slept on the floor next to my bed and rode with me in the ambulance to the airport.  I knew none of these people but they all were there to support me and help me realize my own strength when I needed it most.  

It took three planes, a minimum of four wheelchairs in various sizes, a plethora of exceptional and patient flight attendants and airport staff, and my typical "you laugh or you cry" brand of humor to get me home, but I got there.  And burst into tears the instant I saw mom waiting there for me.

So Mama brought me home to Nor Cal, where five days, two doctors, and a prescription for Norco later I went in to have a titanium rod implanted in my tibia from ankle to knee with several screws to hold it in place.  The fibula they left as is since it's not a weight bearing bone and the muscle keeps it pretty stable.  As an added bonus of this whole fiasco I am now 100% not at all squeamish about surgical procedures and I know more about anatomy than I ever have (what did they teach me in school?).  

Here's a before:

Note: this is how you don't want your Tibia and Fibula to look

And an after:

Robot/pirate leg!  This was my last X-ray.

Now over a year post-surgery... I'm so happy to be walking.  That's really what it's about.  It is hilariously frustrating that my bones ache with cold weather (next I'll be predicting storms with the best of the old folk).  And yeah, my ankle and knee aren't nearly as bendy as they used to be.  But I was able to start hiking again last summer.  Hiking!  When I was recovering from surgery even the thought of putting any weight on my leg was in a galaxy far, far away.  The day before yesterday I spent over an hour digging out drainage ditches for our driveway.  Stubbornness will eventually get me there.

As for what I've been doing to keep myself busy since I've (temporarily) retired from travel life...

First of all I'm lucky enough to have a stunning place to call home.  A few years ago Mama decided to put in a studio apartment above the barn on her property, and as soon as I could hop my way up the stairs unassisted I moved in.  It's just enough space for one person, outfitted with a six foot bathtub, a double oven, and a wine fridge.  Also 40 acres of oak forest to stomp around in.  I love living here, even if I'm not quite ready to stop my wayward traveling ways.

Did I mention I get to spend tons of time with this adorable boy?  I missed my Bunny!

This is Betty the Rooster.  This is how Betty looks at me.  This look says, "I WILL fuck you up..."

Driveway drainage rehabilitation project

Muddy boots

I love this twisted tree

Frosty morning outside my door

Being more or less at home again I have had the opportunity to cook.  A lot.  So much cooking.  I've tackled everything from pho bo to kimchi to sarmale to spicy lime pickle to kombucha.  My latest fascination is fermenting, and I've got quite an assortment of pickling things in the downstairs garage.  But truthfully anything that takes extraordinary patience or time is a particular favorite.  Lucky for me we have a stormy weekend in store up at the ranch here which in my house means homemade wheat bread and some sort of soup made with the chicken stock simmering on my stove.  I have about a million and a half projects in mind at any one time, and getting to them one by one.

Christmas dinner; Mama and I channeled her grandmother Nanny Kozmik and made Kielbasa with beet horseradish, latkes with applesauce and sour cream, and carrot salad

Chicken pot pie with Indian spices

My first ever batch of croissants!  It took roughly three days and I'm almost due for round 2...

Also since being home I've been absorbed in the garden, which has slowed down during the winter months but still gifts an abundance of lettuces, spinach, and pak choi even now.  Of course it all comes back to my love affair with good food.  Northern California has some really amazing produce and local products and I try not to miss out on any of it!

Mama and Dozer enjoying the garden

Planting garlic

Combining my love for gardening with power tools; drilling holes for bulbs.  Brilliant fun.

Did I mention that I have actually been out and about a bit since my impromptu voyage home?  Well, probably more than a bit by most standards.  I went out on the road with a travel friend for almost a month last summer, hitting a ton of national parks along the way.  Here are some favorite shots:

I also went to Peru with my mom in November, my first ever visit to South America!  Two weeks of ceviche, ancient ruins, and floating on the Amazon river.  It was all over way too soon and I'm just now organizing my photos.  Acting as a sudo-adult I bit the bullet and (finally) bought myself a new laptop, which I hope will improve my tendency to procrastinate everything.  So far I've already downloaded more than 3,000 photos and even started putting them into some version of order.  Anyway, here's a taste of Peru!

Whew, thanks for reading!  I'll be updating again sometime next month after my next trip; Dad and I are going to New Zealand!  I'm definitely not looking forward to the flight but two weeks on the other side of the world after all the craziness of my country the past few months (don't get me started on politics or social issues, goodness...) it'll be nice to get out of dodge.  Happy 2017, everyone!

Sailtogether - The Greek Islands

So I've decided to skip the rest of Turkey (that will all be in the next post) and first write about my time with Sailtogether.

While in Albania, I was contemplating how I wanted to visit Greece, and decided I wanted a vacation from my vacation.

Yes, that's a thing.

So I decided to go to trusty old Google and see about cruising my way through some Greek islands.  Rather than trying to make my way overland and being forced to visit the main hubs (like Athens, which several travel buddies had advised me against) or the big touristy islands, I wanted to see something more with a bit more... Something.

And here's where I found Sailtogether.

Sailtogether is a company created by a Lebanese guy named Laurent, and for less than what the traditional "small city" sized cruise ships charge you get to hang out on a sailboat for about a week.  Less because, as it turns out, all cruise companies charge single people double the average price because the cabins are designed for two people.  (I get it, but thanks for punishing me because I'm single guys, that's nice...).  In Sailtogether's case you can either pay a percentage more to have your own private cabin, or you can take your chances on a roommate and pay the normal price.  So I wrote them an email to see if they had available space for the beginning of September.  It was a bit pricey, but you only live once, right?

Within a day I was in touch with Marlene, Laurent's sister, and on my way to booking my Greek Islands sailboat adventure.  In the end I had to have dad wire the money for me (trying to figure out wire transfers to Lebanon while traveling = no thank you).

So after having spent a couple of week in Turkey I made my way down to Marmaris to await the beginning of my vacation from my vacation.

On the morning off the sailing, I grabbed a taxi to the marina, and the driver kindly dropped me off right next to Calypso, the catamaran that was to be my new home for the next week.  I arrived to an empty boat, but in short order was joined by Laurent and Marco, his Italian associate who normally captains a second boat when there are enough people to require two.  I learned quickly that normally there would be up to ten passengers per boat, but since it was a slow week we only had to wait for one - a girl from Canada (born in Lebanon) named Raya.  Marco would only be joining us until the next day, when he would depart from Rodos to meet his brother.  Therefore, we had what basically amounted to a private cruise with just myself, Laurent, and Raya for a week.  I ran back to town to pick up an impromptu pair of prescription sunglasses, then we went through customs and set sail for Greece, a day earlier than usual.

Or... So we thought.

As it turns out, Calypso has two engines, and one decided to bail, so after several hours we found ourselves back in Marmaris for the night, where we transferred everything to Axana, the single hull, to avoid further mishaps.

Marco and Laurent supervising attempts at repairs.

Swimming in the ocean is my favorite.

We went out to dinner at The Pineapple, a nice restaurant in the marina that we reached by dinghy, because nothing says "we are super cool" like having a door to door boat service.

It's kind of like the limo of the sailing world.

No big deal.

Photo credit to Raya.

Anyway, the next morning we transferred the last of our things to Axana, went through customs again, and made our way to Rodos, learning such skills along the way as how to put up the sails, drop anchor, and tie up in the marina when we docked.

Laurent and Marco, wind in the curly hair and all.

Our captains, chillin.

Marco attempting to remove the luxurious locks from his face.

Once in Rodos Marco took his leave, and Raya, Laurent, and I hopped a bus to the other side of the island for a few hours.  Lindos was gorgeous.

Home.

Very strict bus instructions about inappropriate foods on board.

Sunburnt arms bar.

I totally took this photo because it says "Rub Russian."  Which of course means rubles but I have the sense of humor of a ten year old boy so I enjoyed their lack of letters.

Harvesting figs.

Three very warm and shiny people.

Eventually we made our way back to Rodos where we had the most amazing dinner, and I discovered the glory that is symi shrimps (tiny soft shelled shrimp cooked in the shell and eaten whole with a squeeze of lemon... Oh my god...).  

The next morning we made our way to Saint George Bay, where we swam and barbecued and generally enjoyed spending the night in a place devoid of human settlement.  

Captain Raya.

Entering the bay.

Yes, the water is actually that color.

Our captain found a new boat.

Sunning.

This is the life.

I made an improvised version of latkes for dinner while Laurent cooked cutlets (we had no flour and no proper grater; enter Laurent and I slicing potatoes painstakingly matchstick thin and then crushing corn flakes in lieu of flour - surprisingly this actually worked).  Late at night Raya and I got to some serious chatting over wine, to be interrupted by Laurent who insisted we must see the stars, so we laid on the deck and...  Wow.

There are no words.  Very few times in my life have I seen such a sky.  It was brilliant.  

On my way to bed I stuck my feet in the water, where I noticed the sea was glowing when I moved.  At first I was wondering if perhaps I was just more drunk than I had thought.  But then Laurent joined me and gave me a brief lesson on phosphorescent plankton, while we splashed like a couple of eight year olds to see it glitter.  

Stars from above and below.

I was tempted to go for a swim, but decided against it in favor of bed.

The next morning we got up at a leisurely pace, said goodbye to our bay, and sailed towards Halkhi.  Raya, who has been taking sailing lessons, steered a good part of the way, while Laurent and I relaxed on deck.  

We stopped in Alimia for a quick lunch and a dip before heading onto our final destination.

More swimming pics.

We are cute.

Raya being towed back to the boat.

In Halki we docked (twice, in fact, because we had trouble with our anchor holding), then Raya and I went off on a quick exploration of town before meeting up with Laurent for drinks and a much earlier than usual dinner.  Once again we trusted Laurent with ordering, and wound up with a gorgeous array of amazing food.

"No Laurent you have to angle selfies from above, we look better that way."

I forget how tall I am until I see shots like this.

Sharing beers and generally having a grand time.

Nirvana.

The meals in Rodos and Halkii are two of the most memorable of my entire life.

Tzaziki, simi shrimps, shrimps cooked in spicy tomato sauce, grilled spicy feta, fried calamari...  Heaven.

We had a bit of an earlier night, then took our time the next morning, buying fresh bread from the bakery and local honey, which we turned into our breakfast (bread with honey and butter is one of my favorite things now).  

Leaving the island.

We eventually took off for Alimia  where we would be spending the night in a deserted bay.  We stopped in a different bay first, but we didn't last long there because...

Bees.

No, not bees, wasps.  What we call yellow jackets back home.  

As soon as we pulled in and were dropping anchor, they started investigating the boat.

Now, I'm not a wimp when it comes to bugs or creepy critters.  I can handle snakes, spiders...  

But bees?  Not so much.

This is basically what we saw of the first bay.

The next hour or two involved mostly Raya and I shrieking and running around and jumping in the water and diving under to escape the aggressively inquisitive pests (and then laughing hysterically at our own antics) while a puzzled Laurent watched us while bees flew harmlessly around him.  We decided we wanted to explore land, which became a failed mission for as soon as we landed on shore the bees reappeared and two screaming girls dove back in the water and swam back to the boat.  Poor Raya was stung and at this point we had enough excitement so Laurent indulgently took us to the other bay where we hoped there would be less "killer bees."

Lucky for us there were a lot less, so we managed to make it to shore to explore the WWII German base on the island (now abandoned) and grab some good photos while Laurent napped.  Later that afternoon we swam with our snorkels to the shipwrecked ferry nearby, where Laurent was hoping to spear a fish for dinner, but no luck.

Abandoned German WWII base.

Exploring.

Snorkeling gear, check.

Sunkissed and loving life.

Sunset.

As for the bees, there were definitely a few still hanging around but nothing like our previous stop.  Still, Raya and I giggled nervously while dodging to and from our cabins for the majority of the late afternoon.

That evening I prepared my first ever risotto (which tasted good, but I had a little trouble getting the texture of the rice correct) for our dinner and we hung out topside listening to a few big fish splashing nearby (where were you earlier you wily bastards?!).

The next morning I was woken up bright and early by a little wasp intruder, and after he flew out my hatch I closed myself in so I could nap in peace a bit more.

That morning we left for Symi, our final stop in Greece.  We made it there in the afternoon, and after walking around to do some shopping, Raya and I made our way up the hill for the view.  

The little boats with personality.

That afternoon we had become acquainted with our neighbors on one side, and invited them over that evening for drinks on our boat.  Our new Swedish friends came bearing gin and tonics (quite literally the first gin and tonic I've ever found tolerable) and we chatted and got to know each other a bit.  It was a mother and father (who live and work in Africa), their daughter (also works and lives in Africa), their son (lives in Sweden), and two of his friends.  They invited us out to dinner with them, where we all opted for the chef's choice dinner, where they basically just bring you plates of food until you tell them to knock it off.

Not the most amazing meal I've had (I'll admit I'm getting entirely too spoiled now) but the rooftop was gorgeous and the company was loads of fun.

The whole crew.

The next morning we took off early, on our way back to Marmaris.  I managed to nap for a couple hours while we were on the water, quite a feat considering even the strongest stomachs tend to feel queasy indoors.  

Leaving Symi, early morning.

Our reminders of the real world: life jackets from Syrian refugees.  This area is the closest to Turkey so a lot of people come through here looking for a better life.

We stopped for lunch and a swim on the way, eating some sausage with onions before puttering back to town.  Raya and I decided it was time for a shower (my first of the week, because why bother when you're swimming every day?) and then went into town where she bought us matching lucky bracelets (I haven't taken mine off since).  We went out for dinner with our captain, and boy was it amazing!  I had some steak with pepper sauce which was perfectly cooked.  Oh so good.

Back in Turkey.

This cute girl!

Suffering from too much sun and salt water.

That night I said my goodbyes to Raya, as she was leaving the following morning early enough where I figured (quite rightly) that I would miss her.  It was sad to see her go, and a trip to Canada is definitely in order!

I spent one more night on the boat, as captain Laurent and his new team weren't leaving until the following day, and I got to meet a lovely Spanish couple and we had dinner together.  

Finally I left Axana behind and made my way to the guesthouse for my final night in Marmaris, spending my day napping and arguing on the phone with travelgenio, who had decided a mere four days before my flight to Vietnam that they were postponing one of my three flights to 24 hours.  Given the choices of a) wait in the Bangkok airport for 24 hours (no hotel offered) or b) accept a refund for that flight only, I was more than a little peeved.

I think the technical term is "hopping ass mad."

Due to my persistence Martha gave up the fight and agreed to give me a full refund, so I rebooked my flight for a day later for pretty much exactly the same price.  And I gained an extra day in Istanbul, which was wonderful.

That's all for now, I'll catch you all up on the rest of Turkey in my next post.

~Swan