And One Giant Dead Fish

Florida... Oh lovely Florida...
Seriously, if you haven't experienced the beautiful beaches and simple, coastal atmosphere of Northwestern Florida, you're missing out.

I mean really. Missing. Out.
You should go. And when you do, take a drive down the coast, between the gulf and the ocean on Highway 98. Stop off at the Santa Rosa Islands beach. Have a some Crawfish at Harry T's and go for a JetSki ride in Destin. Relax on Navarre beach all day and watch the moon rise over the water at night. See the small white crabs scuttle about in the sugar-white sand and watch the small mussels dig their watery homes in the waves. If you're lucky you'll swim with sea turtles and shuffle around in a school of Stingrays.

But that's only if you're very lucky.

This trip has been wonderful for me, but right now the local eco-system is suffering massively, due to BP's ginormous oil spill in the area.  Until this week, this area of Florida was tar-ball free. But the ocean is never still, and the little bits of greasy black death have spread out to the beautiful Pensacola coast. There is an unusual abundance of wildlife in the waters right now, due to the oil pushing it closer to shore than normal. It's fun for us tourists and locals alike to see dolphins, big fish, stingrays and turtles so readily, but the fact of the matter is that this is an upset to their way of life and will no doubt have some rather serious implications in the near future. Today I saw a massive, oil-covered fish washed up on the beach. Sure, the cycle of life would have claimed that fish eventually, but such an obviously unnatural death is a tragedy.

Right now, I'll do what I can to help the tourism industry by being here. And I'll hope that BP cleans up the ocean quickly so life can return to it's normal cycle around here.

It looks picturesque, but the black bits are actually tar balls - oil from the BP oil spill. Cleaning crews were out promptly to clean it all up.

Those shadows in the water are schools of stingrays.

Sand Dunes at Santa Rosa Islands beach

Crawfish! Those little suckers are mighty tasty!

The sugar sand minus the tar balls... what the beaches normally look like. Absolute heaven!

Perfect day.

Los Angeles Angst

I did not take one single, solitary blessed photograph on my short trip to Los Angeles.

Le Sigh.

Should I explain why? Probably.

I took my camera.

I lugged it all the way with me in my backpack along with my laptop and lipgloss.

And then I left it in my hotel room. I can't say why, for sure. Actually, yes I can. I did it because I intended to go to Disneyland. And I also intended not to lose it at Disneyland while riding fun rides. So. There. No camera.

Lame.

Because I didn't even go to Disneyland.

And still, the saddest thing about this story so far (to me, at least) is that I didn't have my camera.

Again, LAME.

I'm not sad about not going to Disneyland. I mean, do you know how much it costs to visit that place for a day?
$68.
And I only wanted to ride Pirates of the Caribbean, which has been ruined by the way, in the recent renovations Disney made to it. (About three years ago.)

So anyway.
I was in LA for work. Did you know that LA is a 50 minute flight from San Fran? How convenient, right? I didn't have to work until Monday, but I was supposed to fly down there on Sunday. So I took an early flight, wanting to see some friends and visit the now ruined Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

I should tell you.

I do not like LA. I do not like the hollywood-ness of the place or the plastic-ness of so many of the people. So I never bother to go. Northern California may as well be on a different planet entirely from it's southern counterpart. And before this trip, I had never bothered to visit anyplace in LA besides LA proper, Anaheim, San Diego (which I DO like... I mean, who can help it?) and Long Beach (blech!).

I began the day visiting with an old, old friend. Old as in old school. Jr. High school, to be vaguely precise. One of my buddies and his wife now live in Anaheim. So I had a yummy lunch and long, fun chat with them. Thanks Lars & Steph!

I love my friends!

And then, when I was once again in my car and about to head to Disneyland around 4pm, my college bestie, Jake (I'm a guy-friend kinda girl, have you noticed? They're the best!) texted me saying that he was home early from visiting with his family and wanted to chill. He's from Huntington Beach and I haven't seen him in a couple of years. So I took my LA-prejudiced butt over to his place. When he found out that I had never been to his beloved homeland or surrounding cities, he shook his head incredulously at me and proceeded to tour me around. We saw Newport and went to the Beach and to Huntington Beach's pier and had Milkshakes at Ruby's (if you haven't been, go!) and then, for old-times' sake, we went back to his place and played a couple of rounds of Rummikub. I won the first round. *Woo!* He won the second.

And somewhere, between the movie-perfect little beach towns and the stunning-beyond-words sunset that glowed like a giant, flaming orange, hovering over the multi-million dollar beach homes in Laguna Beach, my southern Cal angst died a little bit. And I could not think Jake was quite so silly for loving it there so much.

Blast.

So the prognosis? I'm not sure. But I don't hate all of Southern California anymore. But I don't love it either. Well, maybe I do. A little bit. The part with the gorgeous beaches that are easily accessible year round. Because, let's face it, it takes at least an hour to get to any beach from where I live.

Curses.

Jake took the only picture I have from the trip. Good times.

In other news, right now I'm on my birthday trip. You remember? The one that I'll turn the big _____ on. Tomorrow, in fact.

Cheers.

My Own Personal Desert Stalker

Leaving Petra sucked

I mean really. It sucked.

I wanted to stay in the magical world of the Rose city forever. I wanted to curl up and camp there under the stars, letting the ruins whisper their ancient secrets to me. I wanted to scale the canyon walls and climb into the old homes and find out what life must have been like in that place in it's heyday.


Plus, I really wanted to not have to hike back out of the canyon in the state I was in. 

Dehydrated. 

It's better to avoid dehydration altogether than try to rehydrate, you know.

Once I finished the hike down from The Monastery and began meandering back through the Petra village, I really started to feel bad. Exhausted. Vomity (that's probably not a word). Thirsty. I bought two drinks at a ridiculously overpriced-because-they-can-be drink shop and sat in some shade for a good half hour before I could move again. I'm normally much better about taking care of myself on hikes, but I let this one slip, being unaccustomed to the brutality of the desert sun and overly excited about being where I was.

So I watched my tour mates breeze past and go on a second hike to another site, equally brutal to the one we'd all just finished, as I sat in the shade and sipped my quasi-cold mango juice and bottle of water. (Which, because I didn't get to go to that site, I will be returning to Petra to see someday. Yesssssss!)

And then I sucked it up and began the long walk out. It was a chore. My body fought me every step of the way. But I did it.

When I finally made it up the long hill, through the cavernous passages, back to the place where the local Bedouins offer horse and buggy rides the remainder of the way out, I was soooo ready to get on a horse and take it easy for a bit.

When you buy a ticket into Petra a "free" horse ride is part of the package. I say "free" instead of free because in reality, there is a mandatory tip involved. Which is fine. It's all part of the experience, I guess. This system allows the local Bedouins (who actually live in the hills surrounding Petra and camp amongst the ruins nightly!) another way to make money from the tourists. SO I soon found myself on a spirited white horse, being led by a twenty-something guy.

A couple of minutes into the ride he says to me "Haven't I see you before?"

I was a bit bewildered. "Um. Don't think so."

He said "Yes, yes, it was you last night! At the cave bar!"

I'm thinking: Uh....

Him: "It was me, I was with my friends and you went to the cave bar. We said hello to you. I am so happy to see you again."

Me: Now recalling a group of three local hoodlums cat-calling and hassling me outside of the bar, making me hurry up to reach my friends at the bar.

Me: "Oh, yah!" Big smile at him. Thinking: Oh crap.

The next thing he says to me, with a sly smile and a wink is "You look very sexy on my horse."

So the next ten minutes become increasingly uncomfortable for me as Hamsa (the guide... isn't that a meditation mantra too?) proceeds to try to flirt with me, tell me how beautiful he thinks I am {I swear this blonde hair of mine is going to get me killed!) and that he REALLY wanted to take me out that night. He invited me to a Bedouin BBQ in the desert (not gonna lie, that sounded really cool, but I had dinner plans.)

I politely declined. Repeatedly. And then repeatedly again. And again. And he persisted. And I was tired, dehydrated and now, exasperated and annoyed. And I was also in the middle east, on this guy's horse. So I did my best to maintain politeness and finally only got away after agreeing to go with him to a local bar IF he happened to find me that night after I'd finished having dinner with my group.

At that point I was just happy to get away.

And then I got back to my hotel, peeled off my once white, but now dirt-covered and completely sweat drenched clothes (like seriously, completely drenched - I've never in my life been so covered in dirt and sweat!), had a cold shower, drank more water and passed out on my bed. When I came to, it was time to go to dinner and I remembered Hamsa.

And I spent that evening on the lookout in case I should see that stalker-bedouin.

Ugh.

I mean, really. There's flattery. And there's creepy. And while Hamsa was cute, he had crazy, cracked-out eyes. And I'm not a girl that's attracted to crazy, cracked-out eyes. You know? Yeah.

Dinner with the group was hilariously fun though. See:

Jurassic Park Doors & Pirates of the Caribbean Ride Smells

Sometimes when I'm at work, working away with music blaring and minding my own business I get fun phone calls. They go something like this:

Monday afternoon.

Boss calls: Hey Christy have you got a minute?
Me: Yup, be right up.
Boss: Want to go to Tucson on Thursday?
Me: Sure.
Boss: Okay, I'll forward you the info.

End of conversation.

On Tuesday, my boss called me up again.

Boss: Hey Christy, want to go to LA after you get back from Tucson?
Me: Sure.
Boss: Okay, I'll forward you the info.

So that's what happened. And now as I write this, I'm sitting in the Tucson airport, ready to fly back to San Francisco.

Now you should know that this isn't exactly normal. I usually travel for work a couple of times per year. Right now just seems to be crazy busy, travel-wise, when you combine my personal travel and work travel.

If you've ever been on a business trip or ten, you know that they're not usually fun. I've spent entire weeks in Boston and Chicago without having time to see anything. Those trips suck.

This time I had a few spare hours. So after polling my facebook friends on things to do in Tucson (bless facebook! And thank you Des!! And Jes - still sad I missed you!) I decided to head out to Kartchner Caverns state park. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for something to do in Tucson. Very cool.

I was really impressed with this cave park. It has obviously been made accessible to the masses with great care. When you enter the cavern you must go through a series of giant stainless steel doors. I felt like I was entering Jurassic Park. The doors keep the humidity in check in the cave so it doesn't dry out. The stalactites form in the caves because of the constant running water. So if the cave were to dry out, the cave would stop growing and forming.

When you enter the humid cave, the contrast from the dry, desert air hits you like a wall, and it immediately smells like the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. You know the smell - not bad, but wet, dark and a bit musty.

The caves were gorgeous, but unfortunately cameras weren't allowed inside, so I wasn't able to take any of my own photos, which really blew. I was just itching to play with my camera in the caves amidst all of the glowing, glittering rock formations. Bummer, eh?

You'll have to settle for some photos from the parks' website:


Kartchner Caverns

And because everyone should know:
I'm still allergic to the desert. Well, specifically Arizona. The Sahara didn't bother me at all. Neither did Utah or Vegas or Aruba. I guess I won't be buying ocean-front property in Arizona when I'm ready to retire. ;)

Ugh. I'll be happy to get home and out of the fuzzy-headed allergy/allergy medicine fog.

My photos from outside the caverns (There is a surprising amount of color in the details of the desert. Check it out!):

Have a Baby!

Unfortunately, all good things DO come to an end. Petra by night was not an exception. But fortunately I had an ace up my sleeve - one more day to explore that ancient site.

Exciting, no?

I was so excited that I didn't sleep the night before. Well, actually I hadn't really slept since arriving in the Middle East. Those darned easily-excited nerves of mine.

For some reason, walking down a long, narrow, winding path through canyons is an entirely different experience in the daytime than it is at night. I mean, can you imagine that? Being able to see all of the surrounding detail is just something else. In a great way. I was in love with the candle-lit ambiance of the place, but really, the daytime experience is astonishing.

It takes a half hour to walk down to the Treasury facade. The way down is packed with carved monoliths, statuary and ancient tomb facades. Our guide explained many of the significant sites: An ingenious water canal system carved into the narrow walls; huge rocks carved to keep the D'Jin (evil spirits) away from tombs; a cool, but otherwise insignificant rock shaped like an elephant; altars for diety worship. If I were an archaeologist I would have been giddy. Well, nevermind, I WAS giddy.

@ The Treasury at Petra

Did you know that Petra is not just one gorgeous, Indiana Jones-famous building? It's an entire city. And it's massive. And it's built into pink stone walls and winds over pink sands. It's called by the locals "The Rose City." The city was built by a people called the Nabateans. Eventually, the Romans took over, as they were known to do, so you see things in the city like a Roman Amphitheatre and Temples and Corinthian Columns on buildings.

The scope of the Rose City is such that you truly need at least one full day there to see it all. And you need to be in reasonable shape. There is a ton of hiking and walking and climbing to be done. I could have stayed a week and explored.

"The Treasury," which serves as the real first taste to what the city has to offer is stunning. And really, it's the best site. But at the opposite end of the city, an hour's hike up a mountain in the brutal, hot sun is another fascade called "The Monastery." It's hugely impressive. So after wandering around they city complex for a couple of hours, my group took on the enterprising feat of making it to the Monastery.

I'm not gonna lie. It was tough. I hadn't slept for several days. It was brutally hot. And I would find out later that in my excitement I wasn't drinking nearly enough water. But, it was truly worth the effort.

We were warned early on by our very conservative (have I mentioned that he's conservative?) guide, Omar, that we should under no circumstances ride donkeys up to the Monastery because they were just not safe "My friends, trust me. I have seen broken arms. Broken necks. You should not ride these donkeys."

Well then Omar, mate, sounds good.

So we didn't. But as the hike wore on and I ran out of steam, those donkeys started to look better and better and better. One donkey drover passed me, trying to sell me a lift up the hill: "Donkey Ride! Donkey ride! This like race cars! (Points to donkeys) This one Ferrarri! This one Lamborghini! Vroom!"

Who would have thought that Bedouins were comedians? I was highly entertained, and this was only the beginning of the stand-up routines. Trust me. Much more to come.

Astonishingly enough, once you reach the top of the mountain, you find a couple of refreshment stands. With refridgeration and cold drinks! On the top of a mountain in the desert! (They're powered by generator, which is powered by gasoline, which is toted up the mountain by those race-car donkeys).

One of the store owners, trying to sell his wares to us shouted out constantly "Have a drink! Have a Kit Kat!" He smiled at me and asked me the series of questions that was becoming engrained into my brain: "Whereareoofrom?"
California. USA.
"Ahh, YooEsssEy. Vereegud coun-tree. Youarewelcome! You come back and we will have drinks." Then he winked at me. And I smiled, nodded my head and kept grunting my way up the hill. It was blasted hot!

Well I made it to the top. And I found myself a spot in a gorgeous little cave, all decked out, bedouin-style with carpets and saddles. And I sat there, back against the cold wall of the cave, for a good half hour before I moved again.

The Monastery @ Petra

Then I got moving again to see "The end of the world." It's very impressive. And who knew it was in Jordan?

When I headed back down the mountain, that same cheeky rascal of a salesman saw me and changed his call: "Have a drink! Have a kit kat! ...(to me) Have a baby!"
(His eyebrows did a double raise at me as he grinned wolfishly.)

I kept moving.

Regency Waterfalls

I now interrupt my Middle East Trip blogging to bring you last weekend's event:

A six-mile, four-waterfall laden hike in the foothills of Mt. Diablo. A really nice, moderately difficult hike with some good elevation change and a bit of dodgy trail-ness going on. In other words: FUN!

To really enjoy the waterfalls, there must be, well, WATER. So this hike is best enjoyed in the spring, or on a sunny day following some good rain.

Photos: