And on the 28th of April...

WE GOT ENGAGED!!!!!

From the land of our forefathers to the land of my actual father...

I leave Nairobi tomorrow, departing at 4 AM, on Turkish Airlines Flight #608. A short stop in Istanbul and flight #0017 will take me back to Canada. The ash cloud will not affect me.

I couldn't just let this blog expire without saying bye.

I've had a great time blogging. Scrolling down the page, skimming each post, it's amazing to think about all I've done and seen. I'm proud to say I enjoyed every minute of it - sure there were some hard times (read: stomach indigestion) but you take the good with the bad and move on.

The world's a big place. I'm coming off five months and have only seen a small fraction of it. I'm convinced traveling is a lifetime activity. However, this is less a "I need to get back out there!" comment than a reflection on the fact that since the world is always changing nowhere you go will be the same place twice. Don't ever think just because someone's been there that they've "seen it". There will always be another rock to overturn.

As I say bye to where I've been, I think about where I'm going. Right now I have an awesome job offer in Ottawa for an organization I "toughed it out" so it and I could become better acquainted. Not exactly sure if it's going to work out but it's my main lead at this point. For immediately, I head back to the 'Peg to meet up with Britt, friends and family - all of whom I'm ecstatic to see again. I'm finally going home.

Regrets? I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption. I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway. And more, much more than this, I did it... MY WAY!!!!!! (Thanks Frank... ;)

Back in the C.A. of Nada

This will be my last blog post (unless something drastic happens and I find myself if the jungles of Honduras). I've come full circle and am happily back on Canadian soil.

Its been a good ride and I've enjoyed blogging about it along the way. When I started I had no idea I would end up where I did, or learn what I have.

I have no regrets.

I'm dying to see my friends and family back in Manitoba but now that I'm back in the developed world it's business before pleasure. I'm working on finding a job and setting down a few roots, or at least having an answer to the question "so what are you going to do now?" because I know so many of you are going to ask that question, and right now it's a question that sends chills down my spine.

But, I'm young and I'm charming and I have a million-dollar-smile so I'm sure it won't be long before I can answer that question with confidence; "I'm marketing director of a multi-million dollar organization," or "I'm selling ice caps at Tim Hortons," or maybe somewhere in between.

Thanks for all of your love and support.


Britt.

Meanwhile, In Nairobi...

Boy, am I ever jealous of my better half's exploits in NYC. The best I've come close to re: chocolate and opulence has been the jar of Nuteez (chocolate and peanut butter - a sad imitation of our beloved Nutella) hidden in my homestay house room... ok, perhaps that's not exactly accurate - since arriving in Kenya last week I have been fed quite well by my host family, the Oumas, gone on two or three "lunch meetings", visited the ICANN conference several times to avail myself of the free dainties and internet and attended a Kenya ICT board "meet and greet" Friday breakfast meeting... so all in all, not bad. And, by the way, Paul Ouma, my "dad", comes from the same tribal area as Barack Obama's father... NYC eat your heart out.

So what am i doing in Kenya? I am interning with Digital Opportunity Trust, a social entrepreneurship modeled NGO, helping with preparing for a new round of youth training, doing research in the country on our target youth segment and, generally speaking, assisting in DOT's mission of "building capacity". For those of you familiar with development-speak (and those who aren't) BC basically means helping someone help themselves (not bullcrap as I've heard some disgruntled aid workers refer to it in the past).

What is Kenya like? Not too sure yet. I am based in Nairobi and haven't yet had too much of a chance to see the rest of the country... when i do, you'll know. But, in the meantime, what can I say about Kenya? It's hot and sunny for starters. It's also a relatively young country - nearly 60% of its population is below the age of 30. It also hosts some of the greatest runner-athletes the world's ever seen. You can in fact see "the big five" here - but you might have to shell out the sometimes exorbitant amount to go on a Kenyan Safari to do so (I'm working on that one). The time of year best to go is during the migration... not now however as I've heard. Just my luck.

Here are some other interesting details:
- being a British colony, they drive on the right/wrong side of the street... I have almost been hit several times because I've looked the wrong/right way before crossing the street.
- Another colonial legacy, light swtiches. I always turn lights off when i want them to come on.
- for whatever reason the power goes off on Sunday in the morning and doesn't come back on till sometime in the afternoon... despite the government being able to pay, with its own money, to keep them running.
- one of the better ways to understand Africa is to divide it into regions - countries just don't quite describe it.
- the "violence of 2007" was really something unique and rare in the eyes of most Kenyans I've met... keep in mind you could very well call my experience of the country so far very "sheltered"... although visiting Kawangare definitely wasn't sheltered (think give money to help this starving child kind of aid commercial's backgrounds).
- there is a high probability you will get mugged and/or kidnapped depending on where you go, at what times and with whom... honestly, I feel pretty safe.
- Africa needs more sidewalks outside of the city centre areas... pronto.
- I miss Britt.

I hope you are all doing well. hopefully you've enjoyed the blog posts thus far. I know I have (britt's got some talent for writing doesn't she?). I promise to post more pictures soon... internet is not as readily available or as cheap as it is back home - right now I am "borrowing" the ICANN conference's free wireless.

That's it for now!

Asante!

Steve

I *insert stupid little heart symbol here* New York!

There is such a thing as heaven. I've seen it with my own two eyes.

Chocolate is served to you in unlimited quantities by cute buys in tuxedos. Wine from every grape is lined up for you to sample. Your own personal wait staff of beauticians, hairstylists and masseurs are lined up to wait on you and tell you how wonderful you are. Every one makes polite chit chat, eats and drinks, while a tiny girl in the corner strums the acoustic guitar and sings pretty little songs.

The other day my mother and I had the good fortune of stumbling upon the aforementioned place and it was all for free. Some sort of promotional even put on by Dove Chocolate. Chalk it up to fate, dumb luck, or just being in the right place at the right time. Whatever you call it, or however you see it, I know that deep inside you're burning with jealousy. I even got a free little feathered headband :P

Anyway, after my little visit to cloud nine, I suppose it's only right that I was subjected to the other end of the spectrum. I woke up bright and early for a Bikram class. I don't remember it being so hot, or so painful... I knew what I was getting myself into, I used to do that every day, and I used to look forward to it. Which makes me wonder, what was wrong with me? No, no, I still love it. I'm sure tomorrow won't be as bad... I hope.

I also saw the Statue of Liberty today. I liked her hat.

And the Award Goes to...

This is just a quick shout out to all those who have been reading our blog! Thanks for sticking with us even in spite of the lack of pics.

I'd also like to make a quick extra thanks to our number 1 fan who, if the record is correct, has commented on every single one of our posts... Marg in the Peg (aka My Mom)!!!

The sun is shining and it's getting above 20 degrees here in Nairobi. What's it like where you are?

Steve

Blogging in Kenya and Loving it!

Britt in New York. Steve in Kenya. Worlds apart. Yet still a couple connected. The post below originally comes from an email I just sent her earlier today. I share it with you now in place of writing something new - enjoy!

By the way, I "accidentally" included Britt's and my correspondence - it's not too revealing and shows you a side of couple-travel that doesn't usually come up in the guidebooks.

On Wed, Mar 4, 2010 at 11:01 AM, Steven Synyshyn <steven.synyshyn@gmail.com> wrote:

Hi,

What a girlfriend you are! Thank you for your email. Please know I take your feelings and thoughts very seriously when deciding something this big. I realize it’s only a month (not like a year or two), however it’s time away and that matters to me. I’ll do as you say and let you know how things turn out.

My “first day” was pretty packed. Started off with finding out that my stay will be better planned than I thought – DOT will likely pay my accommodations, mobile access to internet (i.e., USB modem) and for other necessary expenses including buying a SIM card for my phone. There’s a call happening later today where we will discuss in more depth the proposals I will be doing research for.

Right around lunch time I headed out with the Intern Support Manager (I’ll explain more what DOT does when we talk next I guess) for a graduation ceremony to Uplands, Kenya, one of the communities DOT has a partnership in. About 25 young people (late teen's to early 20s) had gone through a month-long training involving life skills (job searching, CV writing, marketing oneself) and developing business ideas (such as a salon and a computer technical college). Nearly 60% of Kenya’s population is under the age of 30 (or something like that). Just envisioning what that percentage translates into in people helps you understand why DOT has chosen to focus on young people.

In fact, the graduation was more of an experience than I bargained for. Without knowing it, I was included on the agenda under the “speeches” section. Yep. I can now say I have spoken at a graduation ceremony – something I’ve never done before. For your info, I had a quick one minute address which included two pieces of advice – don’t be afraid to fail and don’t hesitate to kick the proverbial “door” the rest of the way open (these two pieces were given to me at one of my graduations (three in total) so they seemed fitting and not overly disconnected from the context i was speaking in). After that, I was again surprised by being told I would be handing out several of the certificates. It felt strange and a little “why am I the one doing this?” but nevertheless good, in a way, to present a certificate to someone who has never received one before. Moreover, my presence there made me think that it might have really made it all seem more “real”. To have someone you've never seen before show up from an organization that made your training funded could have resonated... Likely you're rolling your eyes at this point, haha - just understand it was something different.

After a walk back to a waiting Mutatu, picking up a half-dozen bananas for 30 cents CAD along the way, I was transported back to Nairobi all the while surveying the slums that I passed by. To be honest, I wasn’t so much struck by the poverty and squalor as I was by my first reaction to all of it, “where do we start?” (as in where do we start rebuilding or building, should sanitation or infrastructure be the priority? and so on) There were a few moments there where I felt like committing to another 5 years in University to get a degree in urban (well, inasmuch as you can call slums “urban”) planning. However, a thought or two later and you realize this is the million dollar question in development we’ve been asking ourselves since setting up an organized, international effort to alleviate poverty. So where do we start? I’ll let you know if I figure it out before I leave here.

I promise not to get kidnapped. You promise too – New York isn’t exactly a walk in Nairobi’s beautiful National Park.

Take care. Talk soon.

Steve

From: Britt Novakowski [mailto:britt.novakowski@gmail.com]
Sent: March-03-10 7:03 AM
To: Steven Synyshyn
Subject: Re: Why?

Steve you're probably only going to be in Kenya once and this is something that's really important to you and that you've commited a lot of time and energy towards. If you think you're going to get a lot more out of being there for two months and that it's improtant for you to stay that long, and if it's okay with Grant and the people in Ottawa... then I'll know you're making the right decision if you choose to stay and I'll support that decision.

I anything but love the idea of being away from you for so long, but it will give me a bit more time to figure out what I'm doing as well.

Give it some serious thought (and maybe a few more days), talk about it with DOT and Grant and let me know when you're relatively certain that you've made a decision.

Okay?

In th mean time, do your best to stay unkidnapped.

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 10:01 AM, Steven Synyshyn <steven.synyshyn@gmail.com> wrote:

I just read your email from Kenya. You’re my first reply. Love you.

How mad would you be if I stayed here for two months?

Steve

From: Britt Novakowski [mailto:britt.novakowski@gmail.com]
Sent: March-02-10 9:23 AM
To: Steven Synyshyn
Subject: Re: Why?

You're reading this from KENYA!!!!

I miss you. I made myself take the stairs last night after you left so that I would be too winded to cry. Drinking coffee this morning without you wasn't fun at all. You'll be happy to find out, as was I, that men here don't hassle me as much when you aren't around. Either that or I'm just having an ugly day... I don't think so though. I showered this morning and I'm wearing clean clothes. Maybe it's national "don't bother the blondes" day.

I want you to know that I'm okay and that I'm proud of you.

From your text it sounds like everything is going to work out really well with the DOT people. Having a homestay arranged for you will make things so much easier, and potntially save you money (?).

Still no idea what I'm doing so I guess you'll have to wait for tomorrow's email to find out about that one.

Have fun, be safe and make sure you tell everyone how wonderful your girlfriend is.

Love,

Britt (les)

I meant New Delhi not New York!

The copious amounts of unwanted male attention I'd been reciveing lately was wearing me down. Tiredly, and somewhat desprately, I scoured the internet for seat sales that would take me as far away from Egyptian mariage proposals as I could get.

click, click, click, Autsralia. Too expensive.

click, click, click, London. Been there.

click, click, click, New York. Hmmm.... click, click, whoops!

Where the "confirm book now" page was supposed to be, it wasn't and with one click too many I was scheduled to leave for New York in forty eight hours time.

I was strongly leaning towards India and had been eyeing flights to New Delhi and in contact with several Ashrams in Goa before the fatal click, but now that I'm scheduled for New York, I'm not at all sad that I won't be paying my respects to the Dalai Lama (at least not on this trip).

Steve sends his regards for Kenya where he has arrived safely. DOT has set him up with a homestay complete with maid service and cook. Lucky boy. He's already considering extending his stay for an extra month. If had someone to cook for me and clean up after me, I probably would want to stay loger too.

More importantly, he has not been kidnapped and promises to post a picture of a hippo soon.

Dance like an Egyptian

Nearly two weeks after we arrived we've manage to tear ourselves off of the sunsoaked beaches of Dahab, a tiny little oases turned backpackers paradise on the coast of the Red Sea. We spent our days in Dahab doing the only things there are to do in Dahab - loaf, scuba dive, play ping pong and drink cheap beer. It was rough.

After mastering the skill of submerged breathing and adapting fully to our new underwater environment we said goodbye to our Dive School. We said goodbye to the Koshery guy who had fed us (read: Steve) many a cheap and filling meal. We said goodbye to our favorite watering hole after one last 'ice cold Heineken.' We said goodbye to the puppies and kittens we had befriended and to our favorite super smiley restaurant guy. I said goodbye to the guy who tried to molest me whilst I was buying jam and Steve said goodbye to the man who always greeted him as "Canada Dry, never die!" We ate at Dega's one last time, the best little dinner in Dahab with a Fatta that will rock your world. And, after all of that, and after paying our mounting hotel bill, we made a break for Cairo.

A here we are! A city of 17 million, a number my brain can't comprehend. It's loud, it's dusty, it's chaotic and in it's own crazy Cairo way, it's fantastic!

When you get past the noise pollution, the garbage, the cat calls, roaming hands, invasive stares, and people trying to rip you off... you find a really genuine city filled with really genuinely nice people willing to help you out and show you their part of Cairo. After an afternoon of back-alley backgammon with a tour guide who didn't want our money but was happy to help us out, we were guests of honor at an Egyptian wedding where we weren't allowed to sit on the sidelines for very long before Steve and I were pulled to our respective girl/guy dance circles and shown a few new moves (which we very badly pulled off).

For those of you keeping track, Cairo is the end of the line for Steve and Brittles. In a few days time Steve leaves for Kenyaaaaaa and I... don't know yet.

To be continued.

A few stories to add some colour...

hi everyone. Steve here. So far, you've heard a lot about how difficult or "rough" things have been. And I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the case some of the time. But as I'm sure you can imagine, there have also been some really genuine moments of pure fun, awe, humanity and kindness along the way... and my intention is to share a few of those with you right here, right now. Sorry there aren't a lot of pics to show just yet!

Crazy man at the bus station from Damascus to Amman

We were a day late getting out of Damascus because of our Egyptian visas' processing time and also arrived at the bus station after the last bus had left. Our only other option besides waiting till the next morning was to take a service taxi (not that expensive if you have a full car... which we did). From the point that we got out of the cab at the entrance to the point where we sped off in our Toyota, this crazy old man with one leg didn't leave us alone. He spoke english... however persisted in peppering his sentences with the f-word and telling vulgar jokes. Usually when someone starts asking "where you going?", "do you know where you're going?" and that type of thing - they're looking for a tip. Surprisingly enough, and as poor as this guy looked, he gave us advice and kept other hustlers away from us without ever asking for money. Moreover, when Britt offered him 25 syrian pounds (roughly 50 cents Canadian) he politely refused. I honestly just thought he was interested in talking to other english-speakers... and maybe to tell his dirty jokes to someone who could understand him...

Walking the Stations of the Cross with Franciscan Friars

After getting through the Jordanian-Israeli border (no problems even with Syrian passsport stamps in plain view!), we arrived in Jerusalem. It was Friday. And it was raining. But that didn't stop britt and me from getting our via dolorosa on with a big group of pilgrims headed by Franciscan friars. It was pretty wild to walk the way of the cross up to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher - where Catholic (and other denominations') tradition holds Jesus was crucified, buried and resurrected. I have now given penance at both this holy place as well as at Jesus' birthplace in Bethlehem. These are two of the holiest sites of the pilgrimage many Christians can only hope to complete at some point during their lifetimes...

Eating too much...

Back in Amman (a few days later), we reunited with our big bags and set out to find falafel. Not only did we find that delicious Middle-Eastern delicacy but also a family-run, hole in the wall, back-alley restaurant that served me 3 bowls of soup, 1 plate of chicken and rice, pita, hummus, fresh vegetables and Yomama's (taste like wagon wheels). The owner was so happy to hear we were Canadian he offered us (read: me... that's right, I ate all of that on top of a falafel wrap and second dish of hummus) the fare at no charge. He also offered to help us however he could should we ever need it - super nice guy.

Dead Sea Swim

Swimming in the dead sea is like trying to force a buoy underwater - it just keeps on slipping to the side so that it stays on the surface. Many people have to pay at least 15 JD to find this out (roughly 25 CDN)... we paid a short walk off the highway. Britt paid an uncomfortable 30 - 45 mins of many, many Jordanian dudes staring at her. Nevertheless, these dudes were kind enough to show us how to use the natural springs flowing down to the sea (you have to wash the salt off somehow!). Thoroughly enjoyed by all!

Drive to Petra



Without a doubt a highlight of our trip through Jordan; driving our crappy, beat up Chevy optra through barren desert with nothing but a blue sky and well-paved highway in front of us with mountains in the distance... absolutely breath-taking.



So there's a few for you. Of course, these are only a sliver of the experiences we've had so far. We keep each other entertained during the hard times by pipping up, "hey - do you remember the time you/we..." and just smile at one another. Oh yeah one more! Britt is currently worth 5 camels based on an open offer from a Bedouin man hawking jewelry at Petra.... If Britt hadn't been too near, perhaps we would have had tea and come to some arrangement... :)

And here are a few pics of the lady herself!

East meets West

Head scarves, compulsive staring, computers that read right to left (اسم المستخدم (البريد الإلكتروني (translation = username!!!), enough hummus and pita to puke, walking the bible, snow, rain, deserts, dirty dirty washrooms, mimicking beach-balls in the Dead Ses, camels, donkeys, goats and a lot of dudes. This description adequately describes my life for the past week or two.

I just have a few things to say:

1. I can see you staring at me. Please stop.
2. Where are all of the women? You can come out. It's safe. I promise.
3. The dead sea is excessively buoyant ...and salty.
4. I still need to ride a camel.
5. Donkeys are cool.
6. For the love of God! No more hummus, please!

We've rented a car and are driving through Jordan. It's finally warm enough to wear sandals and leave our jackets inside. Steve and I are pretty happy about that.

Today we drove through some extreme dessert terrain and had a picnic of hummus and pita (whatelse?) on top of a sand castle (it was really just a hill).

Tomorrow we will play Indiana Jones and explore Petra and then we're heading South, once again, towards Aqaba. Then it's a short ferry ride (I'm already excited for the opportunity to say "I'm on a boat!" again and I will probably break into song) to Egypt and we're once again in a country where we can afford to eat, sleep and drink like normal travelers.

For the record Israel and Jordan have been incredibly expensive and to compensate we've been feasting exclusively on pita and hummus and sleeping in the cheapest (read, dirtiest) accommodations. Don't believe me? I payed $17 to sleep in a dorm room with no heat, dirty bedding, seven guys and a cat.

(p.s. I peed in the dead sea)

one hundred

Once upon a time I had a warm bed to sleep in and a clean shower with ample hot water. I also had a wardrobe that included pants, shirts, dresses, shorts, jackets, sweaters, scarves, shoes, socks, and underwear all in a variety of colours, patterns, and sizes. I had easy access to all of the the products that a girl likes to use on a daily basis to maintain an acceptable level of personal hygiene. And, once upon a time, I was bursting with excitement, energy and enthusiasm to meet new people, see new things, and explore the world!!!

And then I stepped on a plane.

Today is day one hundred. My head hurts, I can only faintly remember ever having the ability to breathe through my left nostril, I haven't had a hot shower in a week, I don't remember the last time I met a heater that worked, all of my clothes have holes in them, I've worn the exact same thing for three days straight and everything I own smells like second hand smoke. I'm sick, I'm tired, I want to come home.

In reality things aren't that bad, I am in the holy land after all. But, a string of colds, flues, bugs, and other sucky things have left me feeling anything but wonderful for the past few weeks. Add to that equation the disgusting weather we've had lately and I'm pretty sure you can cut me a bit of slack for being a whiny compliney jerkface.

Things aren't exactly what my pre-travel, Lonely Planet induced dreams had imagined "way-back-when". I don't frolic in the ocean on a daily basis, drink beers and nap in the shade of ancient roman ruins or run carefree through mountain meadows while children sing merrily and birds chirp. Quite the opposite. But, one hundred days ago I had an empty passport, couldn't point to Syria on a map and didn't fully comprehend the "developing" part of the term "developing world" (I'm still not sure that I do, but each day I get a better idea of it).

I don't dream about a beach anymore, I dream of a clean hot shower... and that's something I might actually be able to get... one day.

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble!

Istanbul, the East meets West city that never sleeps. It promises a contagious infatuation to everyone who visits – and a bowel blasting bug to match. In hindsight Istanbul was a very mild introduction to the Middle East (ME) but we did face some preliminary culture shock as we met the stares of curious locals, hawkers of everything (un)imaginable, Turkish masseurs who knew no boundaries, and our first squatter toilets.

And then there was Tarkan (which really justifies a blog post all on its own) a Turkish Elvis-come-Ricky Martin pop god who happened to be performing a free concert the Saturday night we were in the city! It was the first concert I’ve attended that was attended by police armed with machine-guns and the only words I have to describe it are cold, wet, smoky, hairy, and awesome.

Bidding adieu to Istanbul we caught a night-bus/boat (complete with a squatter toilet, which I’m pretty sure was someone’s idea of a sick joke) to Selchuk where we were greeted with sunshine, smiles and 2 700 year-old ruins just waiting for us to discover them. We found a hostel (or, rather, one found us) dropped our bags and headed to Ephesus *insert Wikipedia definition here* where we wondered around taking cheesy photos and then taking an equally rewarding nap in the nose-bleed section of the amphitheater until being woken up by an Australian couple we had previously met in the Turkish bath (take note of this couple, they appear again later). We promptly went home and slept for another 14 hours.

The next day we found ourselves in Denizli, a Turkish town known for nothing but its proximity to Pamukkale and the birthplace of an Ebola-like virus that hit our bowels hard. From this point on in our Turkish travels we had to insure that we were no farther than 20 metres from a toilet (preferably the western variety) at any given time. We past the bug back and forth between the two of us for the following week (and I’m still suffering from it at the time of writing). We’ve tried a few goggled home remedies but none have proven to be a cure. The most useful advice we’ve found was to avoid dehydration by drinking obscene amounts of salt-sugar-lemon water which isn’t as bad as it sounds.

With a liters of lemon water replacing our lunch (which we were now too afraid to eat) we ventured forward in Turkey to Pamukkale where we traversed the travertines and once again bumped into the Australian couple. Turns out we had been stalking them for a reason, earlier that day, they had gotten engaged. We were the first ones they shared the news with and they invited us to celebrate with beers and hookah (much to our body’s dismay).

From Pammukale it was another night bus to Cappadocia, the cavernous province that is central Turkey. Aside from the landscape I will remember Cappadocia as the place where I failed horribly at pottery, melted my coat and spent the coldest day of my life wondering around caves. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

Guess what comes next? If you guessed ‘night bus’ you’re twenty-five percent right. In fact it involved four buses to get from Turkey to Syria, all involving transfers at ungodly hours. The highlight was a stop over in Keysari where we were met with an entire bus station of hospitality and passed a few hours chatting with locals, drinking tea and visiting the barber. Then it was transfer, transfer and transfer again... and pinch yourself, you ain't dreaming, you’re in Syria.

When turkey hands you lemon, make lemonade.

Imagine this: You're lying in bed enjoying the last few minutes of a sound night's sleep, in Winnipeg, or Ottawa or wherever you happen to be. It's early in the morning, your alarm hasn't gone off yet, and then an unfamiliar sound breaks the silence. LEMONS!!!! LEMONS!!!!!! BUY MY LEMONS!!!!! BUY MY FRESH YELLOW LEMONS!!!!

This is how I was woken up on my first morning in Istanbul. Of course he isn't actually yelling "lemons" he's yelling the Turkish equivalent which is entirely pronounceable to my native English speaking tongue, and of course I had no idea what was being yelled... in my naivety I thought it was the call to prayer. Well paint my face red (or yellow as the case may be)! Imagine my embarrassment when a man pushing a cart of lemons and yelling at the top of his lungs almost ran me down. Mystery solved!

The call to prayer is actually melodic and beautiful, as is the rest of Istanbul. The mosques and bazaars are a refreshing change from basilicas and doumos (douumoses? doumoie? I'll have to look into that one).

It's still cold and raining, but you have to make the best of it! Today Steve and I sat down and charted out our course through the Middle East but more on that later. Right now we're off for Schmidt (large turkish sesame seed bagels), and a turkish hammam, which is guaranteed to be warm!

That's Amore!

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople
So if you've a date in Constantinople
She'll be waiting in Istanbul

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

Istanbul (Istanbul)
Istanbul (Istanbul)

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

Istanbul

Pastrami is not a cheese.

One last day in Italy. One last visit to the Vatican. One last stroll past the Coliseum/Trevi Foutain/Pantheon/etc. One last gelato. One last cappuccino (actually Im quite certain that we will have another tomorrow morning). One last pizza. One last beer. One last night in Roma.

Tonight we will sleep in a room, with 10 other travelers, in a bunk bed built for two. We will slumber soundly as we dream of mosques, Saltans and grand bazars. Tomorrow begins a new chapter in the travel journal of Britt and Steve as we venture on to Turkey and towards the Middle East. The exact route is anything but certain and may or may not include Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Isreal, and Egypt.

I will be the first to acknowledge that we are entirely, completely, 110% unprepared for this leg of our journey, I have yet to even open the ohhhh soooo essential guidebook (despite trying very hard to find one in English not Italian). But I am also 110% confident that we will figure it out (and if we dont, well, I have travel insurance for just that occasion). I am also 110% excited... to ride a camel, to wear a headscarf, to shop in the markets, to smell the smells, to see the sights... excited beyond all words and comprehension! So excited that I could pee, but I wont.

I am getting ahead of myself. Today has been a wonderful and SUNNY day in Rome filled with wonderful old sights and even more wonderful new friends.

But, for now we are going to say `arrivederci!` to Rome.

It really has been a slice.

p.s.

Prego.

Top Ten Tips for 2009/2010 (according to Steve)

(in no particular order of importance)

#1: When in Europe, seek out McDonald's if you're in need of a free bathroom.

#2: It is near impossible to successfully couch surf in Italy if you are not a young hot female or if you are a hot young female who is traveling with their boyfriend.

#3: When staying in hostels/hotels, and the breakfast is included, ask if it is "hot"

#4: Pack Light!!!

#5: There is no good substitute for the (real) Nutella.

#6: Always be wary of people coming up and talking to you for no particular reason... at the train station... when it's 4 a.m.

#7: Share travel tips with fellow travelers... they will hopefully reciprocate.

#8: Never pay the sticker price.

#9: Don't be ashamed to eat the familiar (read: McDonald's) once in a while/when you feel you have to.

#10: invest in a good map or be willing to suffer the consequences.

Some pics from the Steve-man!

The Fountain of the Virgin (it's real name!) in Rome!

Britt(les) in Skates... in Rome! Mamma Mia!

Note: Italians suck at skating.

The myth, the legend, the man... The Prince!?!... Niccolo Machiavelli in the "flesh"!


Florence from on top of the Duomo - pretty way up there!


Another Duomo shot.... had to get my eight euros-worth!

Banana Yo!

Happy New Year everyone! Or as they say here "buon anno" which is pronounced with impeccable similarity to the phallic shaped yellow fruit, leaving both Steve and I wondering why the entire city of Rome was shouting "BANANA!" at one another. After figuring out what it meant we both got (perhaps too much) enjoyment at shouting "banana!" at people. No one caught on that we weren't actually saying 'boun anno'.

Truth be told, New Years in Rome was a little rough on us both. We found a couch surfing event where the beer was overpriced but the crowd was friendly and rung in the new year in true roman style (whatever that means). The metro stopped running before we left for the train station home and we found ourselves walking across Rome to the train station. A bag of pistachios, a pit stop at the pantheon, gelato and falafel snack breaks, and two hours later we arrived at the train station with plenty of time to spare before our 5:40am train ride home.

The station was cold and the only seating was on the floor, I fell asleep shivering while Steve fought off pick pockets, and woke up just in time for my hang over to kick in. Happy New Year to me.

Every cloud has a silver lining and this is no exception. Last year Steve had the idea to write a list of goals for the upcoming year on a cocktail napkin which we both, in turn, signed.

Last years heavy hitters included learning french and going traveling together - check and check! This year we've committed to purchasing a car, volunteering, taking some more advanced dance classes, a trip out east, and skydiving... all of this, of course, when we return safely and soundly home.

In the mean time, we're finishing up our Italian tour of Rome -> Venice -> Florence -> Pisa (where I'm blogging from) -> Siena (maybe) -> Rome -> Turkey.

Yes, Turkey. We leave Italy on the 13th, which is a good thing because one more Gelato and my pants wont fit.

confessional

forgive me followers for I have sinned. It has been a long time since my last post and I apologize profusely. I have been stuck in hell, I mean Orte, and have not had access to Internet, phone, TV or the outside world for the past month.

I have all of my previous posts pre written and will be posting them over the next few days to play catch up. I apologize for an concern or confusion that my lack of communication has caused. I'm alive and well, I assure you that.

Love always,

Brittles

Spainglish

Lulled into a false sense of security by my ability to parler my way through France with relative ease, I dont give a second thought to my Spanish liguistic abilities until we are across the border… and by then it is too late.
To clarify, I speak a wopping three words of Spanish and I taught myself those on the bus. My driver, who happily spoke to me in French will now only yell at me in Spanish, and it occurs to me that this language thing may be a bit of a problem.
Why is he yelling at me? Why wont he let me back on the bus? Why wont you speak English? Or French? Throw me a bone Mr. Busdriver…. He doesnt throw me a bone but he points at the dinner where the rest of the bus has gone for breakfast, shakes his head and I realize that this extended pee break is actually my first Spanish breakfast. Pitty, Im not hungry.
We get back on the bus, he speaks more Spanish, the bus laughs… at me (I know this because they point), welcome to Spain.
Nineteen hours and several pee breaks later [ if gotten rather good at knowing which ones are to be used for peeing and which ones for eating), and Im in Granada. I made one friend on the bus, a peculiare woman who confessed that she didnt quite understand societies aversion to canibalism [seriously?) but she was continuing on to Morocco so we parted ways… shucks.
First item on the itinerary is a shower. Second, free Tappas. In Granada, with every drink you order they bring you food and its free. It might be cheese, olives, falaffel, macaronie salad, sandwhiches, anything goes but its usually pretty good and always free. The beer is cheap and as long as youre drinking they keep feeding you. Its pretty easy to enjoy a lunch of free tappas and a few beers for four euros which makes Granada a pretty lively party town.
My host is Martel from Montanna and she is marvelous. She knows how to party and she speaks spanish, which makes her my new best friend. Were both young, fun and SICK.
Doesnt stop us from hitting the chipitoria (shots bar) and the discotech. With every shot you take you get a cupon, you save the cupons and get a souvenier, I save enough for a cowboy hat (25) which I think is the greatest thing in the world until I wake up the next day and feel like like someone played a death match round of pingpong with my head.
I climb a mountain sized hill and enjoy a nice view of the Alhambra and my drunken falafel purchase from the night before while I recover. I love Granada.
The city embraces the spanish lifestyle to the fullest, meaning 1pm is when you should hope to wake up, but its okay and not uncommon to sleep past 3pm. Everyone shuts down in the afternoon for a siesta and if youre going out you might start getting ready around 1am and be in bed by six or seven in the morning if youre having an early night. I wish I was exagerating, Im not. Anyone who knows me, knows that this is the complete opposite of how I function but I faired surprisingly well.
I did better with the schedule change then I did with the language barrier anyway. When it came time for me to exit Granada, I fudged up. My fear of getting on the wrong train prevented me from getting on the right one and rather than making my way full steam ahead to Barcelona, I was standing on the train station platform alone, in Granada, crying … and then they turned off the lights.
This train that I wasnt on was the great big dominoe for a series of missed buses, trains and airplanes but I didnt know that yet.
Take two: I buy a ticket for the same train the following day, this time I get on it. Success .
Next stop Barcelona, Ill just shut my eyes and sleep soundly… some people can dance, some people can sing, I have the god given talent to be able to sleep anywhere. Couch, airplane, kitchen Floor, you name it. This is why I travel so easily. But, I can not sleep on the Spain train from hell. I almost wish I had missed it again. Its loud, the lights stay on, my compartment is conveniently located between the washroom and the bar. Im sick, Im tired, and Im going to shove that cell Phone up your ass if I hear your bootylicious ringtone one more time.
The train stops in Barcelona two hours before my plane leaves for Italy. The doors open and Im the First one off the train, I hop in a cab, I get to the bus station, I buy my ticket, I get on the bus, I look at the arrival time, epic fail. By the time we arrive at the airport my plane will be in the air. I give up, Im too tired and too sick, I want my mommy and a bowl of soup. I find a hostel, I briefly consider sightseeing but decide to save some excitement for tomorrow.
I realize that there are worse places I could be stuck than Barcelona, which is good because Im there for three days. If I was smart I would sleep, take it easy, drink tea and eat soup. Im a stupid stupid girl. A bunch of German dudes befriend me and make it their mission to take me out. They speak really good English but ¨im sick and feel like im dying¨ doesnt seem to be in their vocabulary. Neither is ¨i have a 6am bus¨ a box of wine later Im feeling a lot better and so I go out and party like the rockstar that I am. Viva Barcelona. I should mention that I saw a lot more in Barcelona than the hostel and the bar, but I was so sick that its kinda blurry and I remember feeling like crap a lot better than I remember the sights and sounds. It was good though. I think I liked it.