Life Lessons from Mom: Don't Get in Cars with Strangers

Yes, it’s exactly what your mother has been telling you since you were little. As this is a blog dedicated to my travels and all those solo travelers out there, I think it’s essential to quickly remind you that mom’s always right. As a young girl with fair skin and hair, I get a lot of attention in places outside North America and Northern Europe, and one of the most important lessons I've learned (several times) is to be wary of strangers. This doesn't mean sacrificing a friendly smile or trying to immerse yourself in a new culture, just keep one eye open for those who may not be as well intending as yourself.

I visited Morocco with my roommate, Hillari, who is also light skinned and fair haired. After a day and a half of constant car honking, crude comments, blatant stares, and one rather uncomfortable gesture, we were quite tired of Morocco’s natives. We visited what was supposed to be a Sultan’s palace and gardens, though it is not exactly what you imagine. It was a bit difficult to find, even after the taxi dropped us off. We spotted a police man, and were approaching him to ask directions when a young boy told us the way to the Palace was down a street to our right. Assuming he only wanted a few coins for giving us help, I didn’t question his intentions but my better judgment insisted we ask the official. When we did, we were surprised to learn the Palace was in the opposite direction, and that our young acquaintance was not to be trusted. He skirted around us, and down the road again tried to point us in the wrong direction. I can't help but wonder what exactly would have happened had we walked down that ally? Before entering the Palace, we came across a lovely view of the ocean, and stopped to take a few pictures. It wasn’t long before we realized we weren’t the only one’s doing so.. There were two old creepy guys following us, taking our photo. It wouldn’t be so unusual for them to take pictures of strange looking visitors, except they continued to follow us for close to an hour. Luckily we were in one of the more touristy parts of Tangier, and attached ourselves to a German couple who turned out to be lovely company. I shudder to think of all the things that could have happened that afternoon, and I know we were lucky to have survived four days in Morocco!

I have also discovered it is far better to severely offend someone than to realize too late you’ve made a mistake in trusting them. Again in Tangier, Morocco, I went to the post office to mail home a blanket and rug I had purchased. As I approached the front doors, an older guy stopped me and in broken English told me packages had to go around the building, pointing down a sketchy and deserted alley. After the previous day’s adventure, I was wary of his ‘help’. I thanked him but firmly refused, and when he persisted I became quite testy. Come to find out, he did in fact work for the post office, and was quite put off by my rebuff. I apologized, and after a bit he apparently forgave me. However, it is so difficult to tell sometimes, and it is far better to be on your guard than to naively trust everyone you encounter.

Even in Malta, so close to Italy and Spain, it is essential to stay on your guard. I visited the post office on another part of the island to pick up a package one day, and as I was waiting for the bus to return home, a car pulled over and an old grungy guy indicated that I should get in. I shook my head no and proceeded to ignore him, wishing there were someone else at the stop, when he got out of the car and again demanded that I get in. Luckily I carry around my BlackBerry to keep the time, so I pulled it out and said “Pulizija!” so he would understand I intended to call the cops. He grudgingly got back in his car and drove off, but I have to say, it scared the shit out of me. I have discovered this is a fairly typical pick up tactic for men in Malta.

Often I speak to people at the Market or outside the Valletta gates waiting for a bus- I am not ready to sacrifice local immersion for safety, some risks are just part of traveling. Once I spoke with an older gentleman buying fish for less than a minute before he told me I was beautiful and offered me a ride home. Just today, as I was walking to the bus, a young guy accosted me with a slip of paper containing his number, asking to give me a ride home and telling me he wouldn’t give me any trouble if I went with him. So even after five months in Malta, I find that it’s still important to be on your guard.

By far the most important thing is to be aware of your surroundings, because there is nothing worse than being cornered and suddenly realizing there is nobody around. Also, firmness makes a world of difference. If you confidently say no, and walk away, or make it clear they’ve crossed a boundary, you’ll be far more successful in your escape. You have to remember you are entirely responsible for yourself, and sometimes there’s nobody there to help you but you.

So maybe mom was right this one time, though you certainly don’t have to admit it so long as you follow her advice ;)

A Weekend in the Sicilian Sun

SICILY-Palermo
A charming Italian city with a flare for the Middle East.

As an ominous group of five bubbly blondes and a brunette, we flew into Tripani, Sicily late on a Friday night; half an hour late after a windy and turbulent flight that may or may not have left the airplanes landing gear scattered down the runway, such was the landing. We jumped on a pre-booked bus headed for Palermo, a two-hour ride late into the night providing much needed time to rest. That was not to be the case, thanks to the dozen or so drunk and singing Swedish guys occupying the back of the bus. When we got off the bus hours later, we spent a significant amount of time wandering lost and endlessly through the dirty streets of Palermo, arriving at our Hostel only to find the Singing Swedes sleeping in the next room.

Thanks to the size of our group- two Finnish girls, two French girls, a Swedish girl and myself- the weekend was fraught with directional disagreements. Despite the rough start and many small squabbles, the Sicilian countryside more than made up for the minor annoyances typical of group travel. We woke up early Saturday morning to find breakfast and do a bit of exploring. We had heard there were local markets nearby- always my favorite part of any travel. You quickly get a sense of the local fare and flare- this particular market must have been a mile long, tucked away in small alleyways and hovels. There was a mix of fresh fruits and veggies piled high, as well as knock off bags and sunglasses to satisfy any budget shopaholic. At one point we came across several poor little lambs, hanging in various states of butchery. One poor animal hung upside down with his throat cut mid bleat, eyes glazed with tangy metallic blood matted in his soft white hair. On the table next to him, a burly Sicilian butcher with callused, dirt encrusted hands carved up the meaty flesh of another fat lamb, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he worked. I only give you such details so you understand my horror at stumbling across such a scene, somewhere between browsing scarves and munching on delicious bits of fruit.



For me, the most repulsive part of the market is always the fish section. The pungent smell of dead fishy bodies roasting in the shady heat is just too much for me! One table had giant tuna bodies on display, the gaping heads arranged to give children nightmares, I’m sure of it. I watched in horrible fascination as one merchants cleaver came down and cleanly beheaded a flopping fish, providing dinner for a middle aged Italian woman juggling her fresh kill with a baby carriage in the bustling mess of the small alley. We spent the whole first half of the day wandering through these markets, idling over little sparkling trinkets, and buying small amounts of produce to nibble on.


At last we came to the end of the market, having no idea where we were after the maze of shops and stands. Luckily we had picked up a map at the hostel that morning, so we headed in the direction of the coast, stopping at interesting spots as we came across them. At the water line, there was a long park following the curve of a rocky beach. We walked along the path with ocean on one side and a park full of smiling kids and couples on the other. Huge jutting cliffs surrounded the whole city of Palermo, visible in the distance, and giving it the charm of a hidden port city protected by gorgeous dynamic blue mountains. This was my favorite part of Palermo, and what makes Sicily unique. When you look into the distance from the lowlands, you see endless greenery occasionally broken by a charming and ancient looking building.. behind which are the most amazing mountains one could imagine. Startlingly steep, they are equally foreboding and beautifully appealing. Looking at such a scene gives one the feeling of looking at a beautiful and mysterious painting. This is when I feel like I have discovered the true value of travel, to have the good fortune of stepping into a painting or book. We spent the afternoon wandering around in the sun, we were lucky enough to have gorgeous weather the entire weekend.

Dinner that night was at a lovely restaurant down the street from our hostel. It was quiet and classy, Italian with a Moroccan undertone. The lighting was by candle and low lamps, and our table was in an outer courtyard surrounded by stone walls covered with climbing ivory. We had a bit of difficulty reading the Italian menu, and the owner immediately came out to assist with translations! As I have discovered in many other trips, Italian generosity runs quite deep. In fact, we were not even required to pay the full bill, it was rounded down by a few euro! The dishes were quite good, with several complementary appetizers of varying palatability and distinctive middle eastern spice. The main course for most of us was of course pizza, a seemingly pedestrian choice for such a nice place, if you were anywhere but Italy! The house wine was lively and fruity, and overall it was an awesome dinner. Later that night we ventured out to the club street, one long narrow road crammed with bars and music. We dubbed it “Palermoville” after Malta’s Paceville- Malta’s premiere club spot. Being the only blondes, we attracted a noticeable amount of attention, though it wasn’t so bothersome as to hinder our boisterous mood. We each ordered a different fruity cocktail, taking them outside to a bench for better people watching. At one point some old guy meandered past dropping mint leaves into our bowl of peanuts. When he subsequently offered us 500 euro bills, we decided to call it a night!

The following day we were off to find the catacombs. On our way, an elderly gentleman on a bike rode up alongside us, pausing to give us directions to the catacombs without any one of us telling him where we were going! This may give you some indication as to how few tourist sites there were, and how obviously we were spotted as tourists. I don’t know what I was expecting from the catacombs, but it certainly wasn’t the labyrinth of corpses hung on display! There must have been thousands of bodies in varying stages of decay, some nothing but bone, others with remnants of skin, hair, and eyeballs. They weren’t particularly preserved, many of them were within touching distance, though I can’t see why anyone would want to. They all had their original clothing, now in tatters and covered in layers of dust, and some had photographs of when they were alive. I am never one to shy at gore, but this was creepy and disturbing. There were bodies of monks from as early as 1599, as well as women, young children, and even babies. Perhaps the most unnerving is the room reserved for kids who looked to be about 12, hung from the wall in their school clothes.

After emerging from the damp darkness of the catacombs, I couldn’t have been happier to breathe the fresh air. Our next stop was a lovely old cathedral with mosaic ceilings, and as it was Sunday morning, filled with the local populace. We wandered around Palermo, meandering through gardens and stumbling upon fountains and parks. I have yet to mention the significant amount of shopping we did, almost every spare moment! And the gelato.. to die for! Only as Italy can create. We ate toasted cheese sandwiches in sunny little cafés while watching people mill about, and each morning enjoyed steaming coffee and pastries at bustling little bakeries.

My favorite part of the weekend is probably the bus ride between Palermo to Tripani, where we were to catch our flight back to Malta. It was the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen, rolling hills dotted with quaint little houses and farms. At one point I looked out the window to see a long sloping ridge of emerald green, with a row of windmills spinning lazily in the breeze. It was so fresh and beautiful, as if out of a storybook. It is hard to believe sometimes how lucky we are to live in such an unequivocally beautiful world. :)

St. Peter's Pool, Malta

Among my favorite spots in Malta, a trip to this rocky gem includes a market and small hike with every visit. When you arrive at the marketplace (this is where the bus drops you off) you first cannot help but gape at the long lines of vendors spread out along the waterline. If you come on a Sunday morning, this market magnified tenfold and includes fish! In fact I believe it is the most notorious fish market in Malta, containing a wide array of scaly beasts from the sea. Aside from fish, you can find shoes, knock off bags, clothing, every array of spice and small foods, even animals like turtles or cats. If you somehow manage to maneuver your way to the end of the market, you find a small beach and docks for small colorful fishing boats. Don't worry, this isn't St. Peter's Pool. This is, however, a favorite spot of young boys who bring their noisy remote control boats out to play, delighting in the splash and wave created by their racing machines. A short walk up the road soon reveals a watery landscape to your right, and a small path to your left leading up a hill. While you look out to the water on your right, there are large structures I can only figure to be oil drills, though I can't be sure. As you begin the leisurely hike to St. Peter's Pool, you are given an expansive panoramic view of the harbor and market you've just left behind. The path often goes from large to narrow and again wide, passing by old crumbling structures, long wooden fences protecting fresh fields and poppy flowers, a mysterious stone wall bursting with overgrown flowers and greenery, a few mangey dogs and one large out of place metal tower. Eventually you come to a stone wall with a small blue sign directing your path towards St. Peter's Pool. As you trek down the winding stone path, careful not to trip, St. Peter's magnificent pool is revealed. The water is an amazingly rich shade of blue and green that quite nearly takes your breath away. Contrasted with the sandy beige color of the surrounding rocks, you can only marvel at the secret slice of beauty you've stumbled upon. The water is refreshingly chill early in the season, but clear and deep. To slip into those waters, and then lay baking on the rocks gives you the distinct illusion of being a mermaid, with no thought aside from the heavenly heat of the mediterranean sun beating down on you; warming your body and heart to the point of utter contentedness. This is what I love most about St. Peter's Pool, the quiet serenity of this massive set of stones in the water. It is so peaceful and hidden, with such brilliant beauty, you cannot help but fall in love. It isn't just a glorified sunbathing spot, either. If you wander around the cliff, you find a long strip of salt pans between sheer rock and deep aqua blue waters. You may laugh, but I tasted the salt once- it's quite good! As good as eating raw salt plain can be I suppose. There's also interesting boulders and holes through to the water to play around, and a large cliff jutting out over the water for only the most daring to jump from. This is the best single place to spend a day in Malta to fully appreciate not only Malta's true beauty, but also the nature of the maltese people selling their wares, or the fisherman tending to their boats and catch. As a side note to tourists who tend to stand out (like myself, with light skin and hair) there are enough tourists intermingled in this area to allow you to feel fully immersed in the atmosphere of this stunningly real place.

Pisa, Italy

I've decided to start with Pisa as a segue into Tuscany, Italy; My favorite area in the world outside US borders. As the third leg of our spring break trip, we had a little under 24 hours to visit Pisa en route back to Malta. With such a brief time frame, we intended to visit the leaning tower of pisa and very little else. We arrived in the early evening to a warm and bustling Italian airport, with friendly faces and more importantly, a convenient transport system. (Much appreciated, as we were arriving from a stint in Morocco). We spent our one night at the Santa Croce in Fassabonda (http://www.fossabanda.it/home.asp) which was quite more than a hotel! Originally a convent, you can easily imagine young monks and students wandering through the grounds studying their latin. Though lovely architecture is an Italian mainstay, I am always in awe of the graceful beauty carved from simple stone and wood; the character and history embodied in a simple stone arc or stained glass window is both fascinating and breathtaking. We ate dinner at a small restaurant down the street, which I must say had the most amazing canoli's I have ever tasted! Slightly crispy with a light but rich creme filling (and a bit of chocolate) I wondered if it came from heaven, rather than the kitchen. Coupled with the sweetness of the wine and the doting attentions of our Italian waiter, I fell in love with Italy all over again! The following day we took the bus to the Piazza Dei Miracoli (Square of Miracles) stopping along the way at an outside cafe for coffee and puffy sweet pastries; there is nothing so pleasant as sipping hot coffee and watching the bustle of people and motobikes weaving through the towering feats of architecture and the graceful fountains in the plaza. When we arrived at the site of the tower, we were greeted by expansive green lawns, long lines of vendors, and astounding churches alongside a surprisingly small leaning tower. It was a pleasant sunny day, and we spent the morning wandering around the buildings and tower, taking pictures and looking at the touristy wares for sale. The tower itself is quite beautiful, and at its most alarming angle you marvel at the fact that it is still standing. Apparently as it was being built, the sand beneath it began to shift, and the tower is now 4 or 5 meters off course. It has since been completed (the upper levels quite straight) and reinforced to remove any danger of a final fall. We wandered into the nearby Duomo (Cathedral) and quietly viewed the brilliant frescoes and statues within. The ceilings are often my favorite, they are so elaborate and usually gold. The windows each are a unique pane of stained glass depicting moving scenes from religious literature. Most disconcerting to me (no matter how often I see it!) is the dead bodies and bones on display in some monuments. That creepy curiosity gets to me every time! This particular cathedral had lovely marble floors as well. We ate lunch at a small outside cafe, listening to the music of street performers and contentedly people watching. After doing a bit of souvenir shopping, we took "hey mom!" pictures holding the tower up. Unfortunately we didn't have the time to go up into the tower, as they only allow about 30 people at a time, and we had our baggage. I imagine the view from the top is quite impressive though! There is far more to see in Pisa, including a piazza dedicated to Dante. It is a wonderful place to leisurely enjoy a few days, soaking up an atmosphere only Italy could produce.

Welcome to Malta

Welcome to Malta, population 400,000. I chose this small Mediterranean Island out of a study abroad pamphlet one afternoon, and admittedly had to google its exact location. I have since learned I'm in good company, for although it is mere miles from Sicily, most Italians are unaware of its independent existence as well. Embodied with rich historical significance, this small island has over the years evolved into a European and Middle Eastern microcosm of culture and identity. Its coasts are riddled with gorgeous cliffs, caves, and beaches, while inland you find everything from prehistoric temples to local fish markets. Malta is truly a unique specimen, untouched by much of modernization and yet ever evolving through the continual trampling and integration of western and european ideals. With such a diverse and torrid history, the island itself has been built up and torn down, layer upon layer, by religion, tradition, new cultural identities, wars, and strife. Who then, are the people inhibiting this island? Is their ancestry of any definitive nature? Over this semester, I hope to explore the island and its amazing history. I have spent two months here already, and have become accustomed to the chaotic yet steady rhythm of the island, as the beach becomes accustomed to the melodic and brutal beating of the waves upon the shore.