Part 1 of Six-Country May (aka 3 countries)

So in May I managed to be in 6 countries—two extra-long transit countries, two meeting countries, one just for fun and one because I live here. It was a good month. To recover, I took the first weekend back in Chad for sleep and ignoring phone calls from caring friends.  If you want to talk to me, send me a text message. Come on. There are plenty of articles online about how terrified introverts are of talking on the phone.

I’m not going to go into detail about each country, though I should because apparently details are important. People are always asking me for details like “how much will it cost to construct and install a rope pump?” and “what time do you need me to pick you up from the airport?” and “what are you having for dinner?”* These are all difficult questions to answer specifically because when people ask for details, they want cold hard facts, but in my fluid reality, such things are hazy at best. Anyway, I enjoyed my travels, but instead of details, I’ll provide photos and some observations.

 Morocco

Pottery shop

Plans you make with the Zetterlund family are pleasantly vague. “Take the train from the airport to Rabat. Whatsapp me when you leave the airport so I’ll have some idea of when you’ll arrive.” This means that you might end up in a heated Palestinian rally at the wrong stop with only Daniel’s Swedish whatsapp number and no wifi.  It’ll all work out in the end and you’ll find him, buy some nice pottery for your mom’s Mother’s Day present, eat some tahjeen and hang with some cool Swedes for a little less than 24 hours.

Moroccan mint tea before a week with coffee-mad Swedes.

Did I get a photo with DZ and his adorable family?
No, but I do have about 20 photos of me and their puppy...
I want one.

Denmark

·      What we in America call “danish pastries,” Danes call wienerbrød (accurate spelling unimportant as long as you get to use the ø). It’s good.

Breakfast with the IAS Denmark office

·      Take the cheesy boat tour in Copenhagen, you might get to see the Queen! I did. She was taking a small motorboat out to her yacht for a maritime tour. They shot off cannons and all her little soldier boys stood up on her boat all stiff and salute-y. Also, question: is it a law that all navy-type people must wear white uniforms with backwards bib collars? I know all about the importance of “TRADITION” but where did these traditions come from? At one time were these backwards collars fashionable or is there some sort of sailing purpose for them? Do they flap in the direction the wind is blowing or inflate into a life preserver for your neck if you fall in the water and forget how to swim?  WHY DID THEY EVER HAPPEN? In a later blog, I will rant about berets, a purposeless, unsymmetrical hat that neither protects one’s eyes from the sun nor one’s ears from the cold. Also weirdly favored by militarian uniform designers.

Cheesy "I'm on a boat" selfie for the family.
Special thank you to  Anders's wife for the use of her jacket,
which I wore 24-7 while in Scandinavia.
When I arrived in Copenhagen, the first thing he said to me was,
"Don't you have warmer clothes than those?"
I mean, I was wearing a hoodie! And flipflops...
(No, I didn't.)

Queen's yacht. Queen is in small boat on the right-hand
side of the yacht. Cannons were firing.
Tourists were standing up to take photos.
Amanda, hiding from the icy wind, took this from a safe distance.

Climbed it.

·      Climbing buildings is fun. I decided to climb up a church steeple I’d seen from the boat. I figured out my way over and decided that it was worth it to pay to climb up to the top.  I was right, of course. Then I found another tower from that tower that I decided that I wanted to climb, so I went there and climbed it and waited for my friend, former roommate in Yemen, who somehow still likes me even after having to live with me for several months (a rare quality with my roommates).  She let me come home with her to her beautiful little house in the Danish countryside where I got to meet her family and go for a beautiful green woodsy run. I don’t mind my sandy desert runs, but it’s always fun to explore new places. I’m usually slower, though, because I sometimes stop to take photos and admire the scenery.

·      If you leave your phone in your friend’s car when she drops you at the train station to head to Sweden, find a nice Nepali guy in a train shop and he will let you use his phone to contact her to come back and find you.

Thanks, new friend!

·      Also, while you’re there, buy the Ginger Pepsi Max. It’s good.

This is good. Je dis oui.

·      Regrets: I didn’t get to meet Chili Klaus or Michael Learns to Rock, but Johanne had emailed back and forth with the Michael Learns to Rock lead singer about an art auction she was doing to raise money for refugee minors in Denmark (because she’s super cool like that) and so I felt very close Michael. Almost like he was teaching me to rock, painting my love and all that, in spite of the fact that I’m not an actor and not a star and I don’t even have my own car. While we are on the subject of Scandinavian pop music, I’m pleased to note that I never had to hear any ABBA songs while traversing the great white north. If that’s not a successful Nordic trip, I don’t know what is.

Johanne gave me a hot water bottle for my survival.
The previous week in Chad, I'd been sleeping with a frozen water bottle.
It took me a long time to convince myself to leave that warm bed.
But the sunny, spring-green run WAS worth it.

Yemen/Denmark--it's basically the same place.

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Before we move on to the next three countries, I’m going to pause and pretend to write a country report for IAS, which is actually something I might have done at an earlier time had I not been busy doing more important things like whittling my inbox down from 1200+ to 315 emails. NOBODY RESPOND TO ANY OF THE EMAILS I WROTE PLEASE.

Sneak preview of Sweden photos:

With my favorite francophone Swedish family in Stockholm
before they told Gösta he couldn't get ice cream.

Being a Viking in the long-boat we wanted to take out on the lake,
but there wasn't enough water.

There was enough water for us to bust out the canoe, though.

* Here's what I had for dinner:

Pineapple salsa made by This Genius.
And you thought I never ate anything healthy!
Note: pairs well with nacho-flavored chips and gummy smurfs.
Amanda=Nutrition

Traveling However/Wherever I Want

Hippos on the Nile from the MAF plane

In February, the shortest month of the year in case you forgot, I was in 9 countries—if you count staying overnight in a hotel in Cairo for transit as being there (I do because they stamped one of my last dang passport pages, the jerks!) and if you count Gibraltar as a country (they didn’t stamp my passport, charming people that they are, but I did have to sit for a cumulative several hours at border crossings getting in and out, so I count it) and if you count a month as a 30 day period, since technically February was over the day before I got to Sudan, the 9^th country which has most definitely finished off the last 2 pages of my passport. I’m in the process of getting a new one (meaning, I scheduled an appointment at the US Embassy and they’ll pencil me in for March 20), and it’s about time. I’ve started gasping when immigration officials pick up their stamps and have begged a few people to please, PLEASE not stamp on an empty page. I am looking forward to the new passport with hopefully a better photo of my face and many empty pages for stamps and visas and whatnot that should make my immigration stops less stressful. Still, I’ll miss my chubby, threadbare little blue book of adventures. It was a great conversation starter. I had fun watching eyebrows raise and thinking up different responses to “It looks like you travel a lot” and other such astute observations. But it is time. For real, it is.

Say what you like about the Entebbe Airport
(It is small, you have to carry your luggage up
 two flights of stairs to Check-in,
no out-lets to plug in a laptop, etc.),
 but you can't beat the view when you take off--
AND most of the time their wifi works
AND sometimes they turn the AC on.

This month in my travels, I’ve taken a variety of transportation means: airplanes, trains, busses, private cars, ferries, and motorcycles.  In fact, my large green backpack that I may have gained through dishonest means (Spencer, was I supposed to give that back?) got even uglier when it dropped off the back of the motorcycle on the way to the airstrip in Mundri and rolled around in the red dirt for a while. It worked out, though, because it was always easy to recognize on those pristine conveyor belts in European airports as the grungy backpack that had been around the world a few times.

Being in real airports (not airstrips) always feels normal and home-like to me. Still, I am glad I’m not good enough at math or remembering details of my life to calculate how much of said life has been spent waiting in various airports in various states of cleanliness around the world, but it’s probably more than I’d like to admit. Fortunately, there is usually lots of candy available at airports. Though I was bummed that there was no ice cream to be found in the dang Entebbe airport. It would have been the least they could do since my original flight to Spain was canceled due to “fog.” Now I’m no flying expert, but I really thought that they had instruments and other important gadgets to help them fly when they can’t see that well. Otherwise, wouldn’t we get stuck in a cloud up there and not know how to get out? What’s the difference when the cloud is on the ground?

New EgyptAir friends

Egypt Air, well known for being an airline based in Egypt, kindly put the entire flight in a hotel in Entebbe for “until probably sometime later.” This was organized by Chaos himself who chose this moment to take on human form. But that worked out too, because I made friends with a Syria lady and an Egyptian man, and we made our own group and had fun. We had breakfast together and found bus rides to and from the venue together, and Haytham even helped me by calling and telling me that we were leaving for the airport in half an hour (information that was crucial to me making it on the plane, and also something that Chaos & co. had neglected to mention to me via the hotel front desk). Anyway, we all made it, got on the plane and found that we were all sitting in the same row, where we would have sat and probably never talked had our plans gone the way we all intended. Once we arrived in Egypt, they were able to go on to their final destinations, while I was lumped in with a Spanish tour group going on to Madrid at a swanky Cairo hotel. Fortunately, their tour guide was a Syrian guy, so we were able to communicate in Arabic since my Spanish is "not awesome," to quote a friend of mine from India.

Upon arriving in Spain, I was impressed by the efficiency of Europe. I was able to navigate a never-before-seen subway system and hop on a train that felt like some sort of futuristic transportation, it was so shiny and swanky. The best part is that as it was leaving the station and I was thinking about trains that I love (the Hogwarts Express) and comparing that to trains that I don’t love (any train in India), they played the theme from Harry Potter over the loud speaker in the train! I was so excited that I looked around for the lady with the trolley selling cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs, but I guess I was still too far south for her.  From the train station, I hopped a bus (also super-easy and self-explanatory, probably run by personified Efficiency herself) to my final destination, which I missed because I was sleeping and had no idea where to get off. Ma3lish. I got to Torrox eventually.

My private car trips were mostly run by Carolyn (see the post about my 30^th birthday, which may come before or after this one, I don’t know yet) to Nerja and Granada and Gibraltar and cool places like that. I almost got to ride in a cable car, but they were renovating for my bday in Gibraltar, so we hiked the mountain instead. I must say, it is super-fun to be driven around and not have to worry about sleeping through your stop.

My sweet Moroccan mommy

Boat immigration-still easier than
Juba Intl Airport Immigration

And finally, my ferry adventure was probably my real adventure since I took the road less travelled (by tourists) and left from Algeciras to the new Tangier port. Here again, Arabic saved me (Note this important information, dear readers: knowing Arabic saves lives. Maybe. Or anyway it’s really useful at least). A sweet  old lady took me under her hospitable Arab wing and even stopped the bus so it would wait for me to get through immigration in Tangiers where the very charming immigration official and I were charming each other with our charming Arabic conversational skills. “You can stay even 3 months—it is wonderful that you speak Arabic so well. You MUST be Lebanese. Come back anytime.” So charming. But long-winded. But my lady did not let that bus move without me.

My taxi-man

Once we arrived in the actual city of Tangiers, 45 minutes of traffic later, I had no where to go, and again, Arabic saved my life (probably). I changed money, got directions to a hotel, and caught a cab to the hotel. The cab driver kindly informed me that he is not really a local cab, but would make an exception for me. When I told him that I wanted to see the town the next day before hopping on a ferry back to Spain, he obligingly offered to show me around. He refused payment that night, so I knew he’d be back the next day, and then gave me a great tour. He even took me out to breakfast, proving what I’ve suspected for a long time: I am destined to be the wife of an Arab taxi driver. Seriously, they are the only men who ever ask me out.

And after Morocco, all the rest of my trips were going back, which is always easier, since you already know the way.

And now, I’ll leave you with a bunch of photos from my recent travels around beautiful places. . I will include photos here because I took lots of photos and I should use them for some purpose. Remember, I am not one of those fancy photographer people. I take photos on my iPhone and I take a lot in hopes that one or two will not have part of my finger in the shot. Fortunately, there is not too much that I can do to mess up the natural beauty of the places where I was.  Still, I think it is important that you remember that these terrible photos I took and posted here do not do these places justice, so save up your money and/or get an international job and/or make friends with an awesome English sea captain, and go see them yourselves.

Nerja, southern Spain

The lighthouse in Torrox

Aqueduct in Nerja

The view from the Alhambra

Alhambra

Note the crazed look in my eyes and red wind-chapped skin.
Cold make me look like this.

Roy and Carolyn in the gardens

The famous Lion Pavilion
(OK, I can't really remember the name, but it is a famous part of the Alhambra).

The first photo the guard obligingly took for us

The second photo in the pose directed
by the guard--not sure it's really better...

When you go to the Alhambra:
don't forget to look up.

Alhambra window

Still looking crazy

I like windows and arch-ways and blurry photos

Granada from the Alhambra

Orange tree in the garden

Roy and Carolyn walking towards the church

Wearing Carolyn's gloves and clutching the
hand-dryer in the bathroom to try to warm up.

Algeciras Port

New Tangier Port

Tangiers alleyway in the old city

I like alleyways

Hey--it's the door to Ibn Batuta's grave on the left!
More on him later...

Buying breakfast

Breakfast view

Breakfast--ragheef and mint tea

Breakfast place

Chasing his camel down the beach

With Spain in the background

Tangiers from the ferry back to Spain

Seen soon, Africa! (Two days later on the Eastern side)

Tarifa port

Fort by the port

Views from the bus back to Malaga

You can still see Africa

Gibraltar! It's pretty distinctive-looking

Sunset on road to Malaga

And now I'm here.