Lazy Vs Laid Back

Hawaii or the Caribbean?

It's a question I'm often asked.

I've always found that question very interesting. Interesting because The Caribbean, a grouping of several hundred islands, countries, cuisines and cultures is being compared Hawaii- a chain of 8 islands (+a few islets).

It doesn't quite compute to me. And I always return the question with one of my own: Which Caribbean island?

Usually my question is answered with a blank stare, or a hastily gathered response with an obvious choice like Jamaica, or St. Thomas, or The Virgin Islands.

My honest opinion on those choices:

Jamaica or Hawaii: Hawaii. I'm NOT a Jamaica fan. Sorry if you're a Jamaica fan, but I usually call it "A dirty hole." Take into consideration that I live in California. To get to Hawaii would take one five-hour flight. Getting to Jamaica would mean at least two flights and 10+ hours in the air. And a lot more money. NOT WORTH IT.

St. Thomas or Hawaii: Hawaii
For about the same reasons as Jamaica. St. Thomas isn't quite "A Dirty Hole." But it's darned close. And it's dangerous. Be very, very careful in St. Thomas.

The Virgin Islands or Hawaii: The BRITISH Virgin Islands. Hands down. Jump on a sailboat and go and see why. I plan to.

You see, I'm picky. I'd pick Hawaii only if my other options weren't more tempting.

There is one acceptable time for comparing Hawaii to the Caribbe, and that is when describing the attitudes found in the islands.

Hawaii, to me is beautiful, tropical, fun, sunny... but something is missing for me: The Caribbean spirit, if you will. Aloha spirit is, of course, warm and welcoming, but it's just not the same.

I've thought long and hard about this conundrum. I mean, you'd think that one gorgeous, jungle-clad, azure water island chain would be comparable to another? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong WRONG.

I could make a detailed grid of all the pros and cons between the two "places" but for me, the difference is simply this:

Hawaii is Lazy.

The Caribbean is Laid Back.

Now don't get me wrong. I love Polynesian culture. LOVE. IT. But if I were to choose between moving to a Caribbean island and a Hawaiian island, I'd pick a Caribbean island, no brainer. The way of life agrees with my constitution better, with the way I work and function.

So give me Puerto Rico, Antigua, Aruba, Barbados. I leave the Alohas to the rest of the mainland Californians.

Grappling

I've been mulling over what it is, exactly that drives me to keep traveling. I love it, that much is certain. But what is it that I love?

Is it the long, sleepless, dehydrating, cramped hours on planes, buses, trains and in cars?

How about the roll of the dice, hoping that the next place I stay will have a comfortable, clean bed and hot water for a shower?

Maybe the cases of the pharoah and sultan's revenge? (and just what are those guys so angry about in the first place, anyway?)

How about the endless pleasure of the company of a companion called jetlag.

Perhaps the resulting syndrome, upon arriving at home, of an empty checking account.

Or

The excitement of getting on that plane, never knowing who I'll meet or what they will inspire.

The possibility of sleeping in a new country and seeing things I never dreamt possible.

Tasting new and exotic foods.

Wandering ancient streets and discovering a piece of ancient ingenuity still in use today.

Perhaps it's just the possibilty of possibility.

I've been told that I am a grappler. I grapple around at everything around me for explanation until I've got enough reason to make a decision. I think that's pretty spot on.

For me the thrill is the struggle. It's the possibility and the work and the unknown. It's the act of discovery and the moment of reward. And then I need to move on, start something new and put some new design into motion for the future. That is what I thrive on. Forward motion.

Specialized Adventure with a Side of Nausea

I've got a cast iron stomach. As a teen I LOVED roller coasters and those spinning room rides and basically any ride that could make my stomach drop, resulting in that heart-pounding fun high.

So it's kind of weird that I've never ever had the teeniest bit of desire to go skydiving or bungee jumping. Ah well. (I have been Rappelling and rock climbing and I've tried to Zip Line on several occasions, but that never worked out.)

Despite all of the daredevilishness, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been genuinely nauseated.

-After gouging out part of my leg on a 30-mile backpacking trip. Shock set in and I puked a few times.

-When I had the flu (BAD) while working on a cruise ship. I was tossed in the brig (infirmary) and shut up in there with out any human contact for five days. I felt pretty pukey then too. Sea+flu= not fun.

-After dislocating my thumb on my most recent Greek sailing adventure. To my surprise, my body was not very appreciative of having one of my limbs displaced and decided to rebel. It took a full hour of sitting on deck, facing the wind, pale-faced, thumb-swollen (being iced) for me to feel not nauseous.

That's it.

-Oh wait, I lied. I was on a medication for a while that made me want to puke all the time. Thank goodness that's over.

I really wonder if I'd get sick sailing across the Pacific in a sailboat. ?

What if it's a sign? The fact that my stomach can handle just about anything? Maybe I'm meant to be living a life at sea?


Curiouser and curiouser.

Can you tell that I'm currently obsessed with sailboats?

You see, these nights, my dreams are about one of two things:

1. Living in Rome. Traveling by train down Capri, shouting things in Italian and making hand gestures, spending weekends at an Italian friend's villa, eating pasta in inordinate amounts, strolling around Villa d'Este Tivoli and waking up in the mornings, greeted by centuries-old architecture and cultura.


2. Living on a Sailboat. Fitting her out for a trans-pacific trip over to Fiji, then onto Indonesia, the Indian coast, Africa, Morocco, Spain. Then maybe I'd sail back the other way again because who wants to ever go back to "reality?" Days spend sanding down the teak decks of my fixer-upper while I prep her for the big trip. Learning everything about rigging and sheets and lines and knots and navigation and fixing engines and bilge pumps. Fitting out my V-berth and my galley and mosquito screens on all of my hatches, and stocking up on sunblock, 

& oh-bytheway, 
finding someone [Male, LDS, ruggedly handsome, at least 5'9", between the ages of 30-39, no kids, finds me irresistibly adorable and is financially stable enough to contribute his portion to the sailing kitty] to sail around the world with me. 
[If you know of anyone who fits the aforementioned description, please make yourself known in the comments.]

I live and breathe these dreams!

For some reason I want to move to Italy by myself, but I don't want to sail around the world by myself. Don't you find that... odd? Funny? Purposeful? Hmmm...

I once read that "A specialist is a person who knows more and more about less and less." I feel these days more and more like letting go (for a little while) of the generalist in me and specializing in something (Or, more realistically, like putting the generalist to work doing something generally specific) - like photography, or writing, or all things Italian, or all things Sailboatish.


What about you? What are you dreaming about these days? How would you fare on a sailboat?
When have you been the most nauseous?

The Magic of a Pizza Stone

Sometimes I get a an idea stuck in my mind.

Yesterday I thought about how I had a jar of perfectly good fresh Mutz (Mozzarella) in brine in my fridge, just sitting there, and I really had no plans to use it. It really ought to be considered a sin to waste fresh Mutz.

Seriously.

So I thought about it... what could I make? Pasta? Not in the mood. Pizza? Yum... but it would have to be good pizza. Like Naples-style, yummy thin chewy crust with basil and fresh Mutz and pepperoni thrown in because I love pepperoni.

And then I thought: Christy Lynn, when have you EVER gotten a home-made pizza to turn out Napoli-style?

Never. That's the answer.

But I was determined that today would be different. So I marched myself down to a store that is a guilty pleasure of mine: Sur La Table. I don't let myself go in there often, but today I was on a mission!

One Pizza Stone later...

I bought this one, by Emile Henry because it's glazed and I can cut on it - which I would end up doing anyway, and ruining an unglazed one. It's also dishwasher safe for those of you lucky ducks with dishwashers.

IMPORTANT: To fully utilize your pizza stone, you should preheat it in your oven at the hottest temperature possible. My oven only goes up to 500F, so I preheated the stone to 500 for 45 minutes, then took the oven temp down to 450 to bake the pizza.

DOUGH: I went down to whole foods to save myself the time and effort of making a good pizza dough (because really good pizza dough must be made the night before and refrigerated overnight, you know). (NB: If you don't have a whole foods 1 block from your house like I do, use this recipe.) It cost $1.30 for a big old hunk of dough. Perfect. I took the portion of the dough I wanted to use today and set it out on a floured counter for 2 hours to let it sit to room temperature.

Had the cheese (+ some grated mutz in the freezer, because I like cheese). Next up: Sauce. What to do?

SAUCE: I whipped some up: Can of plain tomato sauce + can of tomato paste. Lemon Zest (about 1/2 lemon), a ton of Italian seasoning (to taste), 2 tsp of sugar, about a tsp of garlic powder. 1 tsp Garlic salt. Oh and I started it with about 2tsp of olive oil + 1 tsp minced garlic. Let it all simmer and get to tasting good, and set aside. I like my sauce to be a smidge on the sweet side with lots of seasoning flavor! I think it should pack a little bit of punch, after all it's pretty much the only place to sneak in the flavoring on a pizza.

Once your dough is room temp, stretch it into the shape you want and let it rest for up to two hours. (I gave it maybe ten minutes... I was hungry!) You should probably throw some cornmeal on the bottom of it to prevent it sticking to your pizza stone. (I didn't because I hate cornmeal on my pizza crust.)Add your sauce + toppings. I like to put a layer of shredded Mutz on top of the sauce, then add the pepperoni and top that with thin slices of fresh Mutz. Then I sprinkle a tiny bit of Italian Seasoning and Garlic salt over it all + a few shredded leaves of fresh basil.

Bake for about 12 minutes on your preheated pizza stone. You'll hear the dough sizzle when it hits the stone. Pizza is done when crust is a gorgeous golden color and the cheese is bubbly!

YUM.
Don't burn your mouth.
Buon Appetito!
 

Radom Acts and Cat Naps

I spent some time with my too-cute-for-words nephew and my awesome Sister today. I love spending time with them. Though I have to admit, Master Q runs circles around both of us. At one point we both lay down in my living room while said too-cute-for-words Nephew ran circles around us, jumped all over us and sneak-attacked us with his blanket. We needed naps, and so did he, but he won't sleep anywhere but his bed or in the car.

So after Sister and I gave up on the idea of a nap, we dragged ourselves out to the car and piled in, headed for the magical kingdom of REI. (Have I told you that I LOOOOOVE that place? Well I do.)

Master Q was asleep before we'd driven the four blocks to the freeway. Out.Like.A.Light. Tounge hanging out of his mouth asleep.

Seriously adorable. See:

I could end the story there, but on the way to the magical kingdom of REI, a car stalled in front of us in a turning lane. It was a double turning lane, so Sister hopped over to go around and we ended up waiting at a Red, next to the stalled car. The man in the stalled car seemed a bit indecisive about what he ought to do. So the wheels in my head start spinning. My sister knows me well. She asked me in a kind of ominous tone: "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to help. Meet me in the Denny's parking lot." So I hopped out of Sister's car and told the man if he would push the car I'd steer it so we could clear the lane. We missed the first light, being too slow. Then I hopped out of the driver's seat to let the man try and start the car again (it's a manual, I don't do manuals). Well, the light turned green again and the man was still sitting in the driver's seat. So I started pushing the car while the guy steered... yah. Not what I'd intended. I'd gotten the car all the way out of the intersection and started up a small hill before a right turn into a parking lot and was running out of steam. Sister was waiting for me in the parking lot and when I passed her, pushing the car she looked at me with a crazy expression on her face. A moment later, two men came running up behind me. "Do you need some help?" they asked as they took over.

"Yeeeeeee-sss" I panted and wheezed. It's hard work running a car across a massive intersection and up a hill thank-you-very-much. "Thank you!" I managed to get out. And then I let them push the car the rest of the way up the hill into the parking lot.

Said Sister: "It was like watching a circus. SO FUNNY. You, this blonde chick, go running by, pushing a car. Then these two men came running up behind you trying to catch up, followed by their cars - a Corvette and a Hummer."

I guess there are some real men left in the world after all, eh? Too bad they weren't in the turning lane with the stalled out car in the first place. (They came from the opposite direction). But I'm happy I could help out.

Guess you just don't know how your day will ever turn out, do you?

Ode to an Unnamed Syndrome

I'd like to comment a little bit on the state of affairs in the lives of busy human being such as you and I.
I mean, it seems to me that lately I've developed a case of ADD, or OCD, I'm not sure which. The one where you're brain is going in a million different directions and you're working on a million different things at once.

Well, that's actually normal for me. My whole life that's been normal.

What's not normal is that lately it seems to be more in control than normal. As in, I think I've trained myself to need to constantly have something else going on. I can't watch a movie at home, I have to be cooking dinner, writing and doing laundry at the same time. I can't just edit a video at work, I must also be thinking about writing something and either listening to music or watching a tv show on hulu or netflix.

FOCUS, Christy. That's what I think I want to tell myself.

You understand, don't you? Do you suffer from this unnamed syndrome too?


Now, I will proceed to take you on a tour of what I've been thinking about for the last fifteen minutes or so, just to illustrate:

It starts like this:

-Gosh, I'm glad I've finished up this video, now to wait for it to render, recompress it and email it off to waiting hands...

-Rendering is a time-taking thing, so I'll queue up an episode of Man, Woman, Wild on netflix and enjoy.

-I really like those people on that show. I wonder how I'd do at wilderness survival? Pretty well, I think. I've had more experience outdoors than most (though I'm no expert).


Then it continues like this:

-I think the most survival-like situations I've been in were the time I punctured my leg on a log on a 30-mile backpacking trip with nothing around for miles. I worked through the nausea, vomiting and exhaustion, finished the hike and even slept through a bear quasi-mangling my tent. Yup.

-The guy on the Show Man, Woman, Wild sure cracks me up. Him and his machete. Awesome.

-I went camping on the Yellowstone River in Montana once with guy who had a machete. We needed firewood so he shimmied up a tree and chopped a HUGE branch off of the tree (it was a dead limb, probably three feet around) and then proceeded to drag the massive trophy to the fire pit. It was too big (obviously) to all fit in the fire, so he just built the fire under a section of the limb, burnt through it and then kept moving the branch in from the sides. That's how you do things out in the country, I guess. That night we had plenty of fire to fend off the circling, howling coyotes. Good times.

-My video is finished rendering, I should go back to work.

-Machete. :)

But wait! There is a point to all of this, and that point is this:

-I need to learn how to simplify and focus again.

Mixed Bag

Just what, exactly, should I write about my recent trip to "The Happiest Place on Earth?" I wonder?

-I could tell you about how inordinately, absurdly expensive it is. ($174 for a two-day pass + hotel + meals that cost an average of $15 each, for nothing fancy!) For two days at Disneyland, in total I spent over $500. FOR ME. And I didn't buy a single souvenir. Not even a pair of Mickey ears. (I have a pair from my last trip sitting on my desk at work, collecting dust.) I could have gone and sat on a beach for a week for that much money. If you have kids and you want to take them to Disneyland, I FEAR for your bank account.

-I could talk about the evil genius of the Disney Corporation. About how they created an empire of cartoons, stuffed animals, theme parks and TV programming that generate amazing amounts of revenue for supplying people with things that are completely unnecessary to life... If I ever have children I now am even more inclined to want to raise them on a farm without cable, tv, perhaps internet and especially without any clue about children's television or Disney characters. Extreme? I used to think so... now, not so much.

-Don't get me started on the spoiled, obnoxious, whiny children.

-I could tell you about how I spent over twenty hours standing in line over two days (to ride rides that average possibly two minutes each.)

-You could be dying to know about the changes at Disneyland. It's always changing, you know. And not just the park in General, but the rides that we know and love and grew up with. Disney ruined Pirates of the Caribbean a couple of years ago. Now they've absolutely gutted the glory that was the Haunted Mansion and replaced it with a Nightmare Before Christmas Homage, I mean pile of steaming garbage. Space Mountain has also been "Re-imagined" and it's TERRIBLE. Just what in the world do ghosts have to do with a Space ride? It was the stupidest thing I've ever seen. The coaster is still fun, but the overall cohesiveness of the ride idea has been destroyed. I don't know who these "Re-imagineers" are, but they need to be de-imagineered. 

-Pirates of the Caribbean ride is closed. (It's my favorite ride in the park, or was until it was "re-imagined" by a complete moron.)


Or

-You might want to know that I still get a little giddy when I go into the park. I always turn left first. I always go to the Tiki Room first. And it makes me giggle. Like a little girl.

-Indiana Jones is the best ride in the Magic Kingdom. Just sayin'. (Tower of Terror is the best ride in California Adventure.)

-You should know that you have to watch the fireworks show at Disneyland on Main Street. Seriously. I don't even like fireworks (truly) and was SO impressed with that show. The fireworks are set off to a story about Disneyland and you're taken on an audio/fireworks tour of the history of the park. If all fireworks shows were like unto Disney's fireworks show, I might watch them. It was wonderful!

-Did you know there's a canoe ride? I didn't until this trip. It's called the Davy Crockett Canoe Adventure (or something to that effect.) Davy Crockett and Annie were my favorite movies as a kid. Seriously. You get to paddle a canoe around Pirate Island. It has one of the shortest wait times for a ride in the entire park and you get an arm workout. I LOVED IT. 

-I love all of the Halloween decor in the park. LOVE it. Which is funny because I really don't care much for Halloween.

And you might be interested to know that in the entire weekend I took precisely one photo and one photo alone. Ready for it. Okay:

Come Fly the Friendly Skies... or Not.

United Airlines, I've just about had it with you. Despite our 31-year history, I'm ready to call it quits.

I've been flying back and forth between coasts on your jets since infancy. I remember thinking your stewards and stewardesses were some of the funniest, most friendly people I'd ever met as an adolescent. When you rolled out the in-seat entertainment systems, I was around 16 years old and ever-so-grateful. And I was astonished by the in-seat phones as a kid(though I never used them) and loved to play with them during flights after you were so kind to install them. I remember when you used to serve complimentary honey roasted peanuts (The cliche was real!) and pass out free headphones for the movies. There were meals on most flights! And they were included in the price of the flight. (Sorry, that's about what they were worth, too... except when you had McDonald's Happy Meals onboard for us kids for a while... that was kind of awesome.) I was one of those wide-eyed six-year-olds the Stewardesses (yes, they were called Stewardesses then) invited to meet the Captain and tour the cockpit. A few times. I loved my stick-on pilot wings.

Over the past year I've found myself increasingly hesitant to fly you. You started charging for the first checked bag. Then you refuse to offer a free first checked bag to your Mileage Credit Card holders. I can fly Delta with a free first checked bag, thanks to my Delta credit card. Then you introduced the garbage that is Economy Plus and decreased my legroom by half

Then your website became really aggressive, trying verrrrry hard to sell me stupid services I neither want nor care about. I mean, really, you want to charge me $100 bucks for "premier" flight status - the "priviledge" to get on the plane five minutes before anyone else and POSSIBLY go through the faster security line. GIVE ME A BREAK.

Your suckage is really getting on my nerves.

Today I decided to pull the trigger on a fun weekend in LA: meeting up with a friend and heading to Disneyland. I had some United Airlines Miles to use up, so I figured I'd book my flight through you.

I get totally through the mileage booking process and am informed that because my flight is less than 21 days away I have to pay a rush fee for ticketing of $75. SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS. For a flight that should cost less than $75 were I paying cash for it. It's the principal of the thing...

Let's think about this: The flight is like 55 minutes in the air, tops. It should be seriously cheap. Except these days no one is offering the flight cheaply - It's going for about $150, which is ridiculous to begin with.

Sure, you might say, $75 is still half the going rate for the flight. Yes, I say, it is, which is why eventually, after calling to complain and ask very nicely if the fee can be waived because it's stupid (to a quasi-idiot call center representative somewhere in India who is unhelpful and gives me attitude) I paid the money and got my ticket.

But guess what United, after this flight I'll be canceling my credit card with you and actively avoiding your flights for both personal and business purposes. I'm breaking up with you. And any mileage I might accrue with Star Alliance in faraway places will NOT be spent on your airline.

Sure, you may not care, after all, I haven't flown with you a whole lot over the past couple of years. But even that's entirely your fault.

NB: After booking, I was informed by the friend who would be picking me up at LAX that she wanted me to fly into John Wayne/Orange County instead... bit late there. Oh well. I called United to see if anything could be done about changing the ticket without additional fees. Turns out it wasn't a problem since both airports were in the same metropolitan area. I'm still breaking up with United, but thought it was only fair to point out there was one positive to this flight experience. 

PPS: This trip actually happened last week, I scheduled this blog to be published after the trip. You should know this about the flight: After boarding we were de-planed because the plane had no brakes. That's right. No brakes. We swapped planes with a flight bound for Jersey and arrived two hours late. Good one, United.

Be Careful

A kindly man reached out to take and scan my ticket as I stood, overheated, out of breath and exhausted at the gates of the Parthenon in Athens...

I had only arrived at my hotel an hour prior, direct from the airport, a train and the subway. But instead of sitting down, or laying down in my air conditioned hotel room, I immediately left the room to find some food (it was nearly 3pm and I hadn't eaten all day. Did you know that Santorini's airport is ridiculously small, horrifically organized, lacking *real* security and food items?) and at least find out where the Parthenon was.

So I wandered. I had purposefully picked a hotel in the Plaka district of Athens, the historical district, so I would be close to everything and I was not disappointed. I had barely walked two blocks before stumbling upon my first set of ruins, which were (I think) Hadrian's library. I kept walking, being rather unimpressed with the city in it's entirety. You see, I'm a person who vibes on the overall feel of a place. Istanbul felt old, and saturated with history in a realllllllly cool way. Rome feels smug, lively and oh-so-chalk-full-of-life and love and fun. But Athens... Nothing. Strangely. I was really shocked. For a city originally dating back before my favorite place (Rome), it was surprisingly dull.

So lunch. Greek Salad and Kebab. Sparkling water. Free internet. I was perfectly happy with it. And then, just steps away from the restaurant I found Ancient Greece's Agora. I thought to myself: I'll buy my tickets for the Agora and Parthenon now and come back after I've taken a nap.

Instead I bought my tickets and kept walking...
You see I'd finally found Athens' cool. Right there, in the center of the large metropolitan city, lay the heart of ancient democratic process. I wasn't ready to go home right when things were getting interesting. So I meandered through the large park and listened to the birds chirping, the same type of birds we have at home, chirping their oh-so-familiar sound and came out the other side, at the base of a large hill. The self-same hill the Parthenon happened to be perched upon.

Well, what would you do? Of course, I just kept right on going. Up, up, up through the sets of gates and past the guys selling frosty bottles of cold water (It was a huge mistake to not buy a couple bottles when I could have!) then up to the top of the hill, to the kindly man who took my ticket as I entered the Parthenon complex proper.

"Enjoy. And be careful!" The man said to me with a smile and with concern in his voice.

Be careful? Not generally advice one gleans from a ticket taker? Were there pick-pockets in abundance on the grounds? Were ancient legendary creatures going to pop out and eat me? Be careful. Interesting.

"Thanks." I said and continued to hike up the hill with determination despite being quite parched.  (I was certain there would be a place to buy water within the park... I was WRONG.)

Soon enough. Soon enough I understood why I should indeed "Be careful." Perhaps there were pickpockets in abundance, but I never saw one. Instead, I found the complex to be riddled with uneven surfaces, large ancient stone blocks out of place, staircases well worn and jagged. Antiquity, in essence, had vomited it's contents all over the site, making traversing the place quite rough.
(Especially when one tends to walk around with a camera strapped to one's face.)

I can't say I spent a lot of time at the Parthenon. I didn't, actually. When I finally got to the top of the hill, I had reached, not only the famous buildings in my Art history books, but also a state of delirious, miserable dehydration. (I really need to pay more attention to packing enough water around with me.) The scorching sun beat down on me, its rays beat down on my back, neck, shoulders. My camera became a lead weight. I couldn't see most things properly. So I resorted to taking as many photos as possible and boogieing the heck outta dodge. Carefully.

Ephesus

Ephesus is supposedly the world's best preserved ancient city.

But then again, that's what the Jordanians say about Jerash, and I would add Petra into the mix of contenders as well. I'm not quite sure what quantitative data is being used to calculate that claim, so maybe it's accurate on some level.

Despite my doubts about the "best preserved" claim, Ephesus is a gorgeous site. Parts of it's bits have been re-pieced and restored, but most of it is still rubble yet to be unearthed. The scale of the city is massive. In ancient days it stretched from it's present site to current Kusadasi. (11 miles away by car.)

If I may add my two-cents worth in here: I suggest NOT booking a packaged tour to see Ephesus. It's a waste of time. You get only a couple of hours at Ephesus and then they wheel you away to see the supposed house of Mary (after the death of Jesus), the Ephesus museum (bit dissappointing) and a column that was part of one of the seven wonders of the ancient world (the temple of Nike Athena). Except the bus literally pauses to the side of it because it's just a column. Then they actually make you go to a persian rug place and a leather factory and try and sell you rugs and leather jackets... UGH!

I'd recommend staying in the town next to Ephesus (Selcuk? pronounced Sell-chuck) and hiring a local guide when you're there at the "park."

For a less brutal day at Ephesus, start at the "end" and follow the walking route downhill instead of hiking uphill in the BRUTAL heat. Take LOTS of water. If you can, freeze a water bottle the night before and take a block of ice with you.

 Walking down to the Library.

The centerpiece of the site is the library and it's stunning. The sheer, ornate detailing in it is worth the trip alone.

There is also a 25,000 seat amphitheater used in Roman times for lion fights and other gory spectacle that is open and accessible for exploration. The acoustics are amazing! My small group of tourmates may have burst into song to hear the sound carry!

These days, Ephesus is a way off from the sea, but when the city was inhabited anciently it was the largest port city around. As in nearly on the ocean. The port was connected to the sea by a large river that eventually filled in with silt, cutting off access to the ocean by boat. Since then, the waterline has receded naturally around 40km. Crazy!

All in all my Ephesus experience was a bit of a mixed bag. The ancient city is really cool and I would have loved to have spent a full day there instead of being on the (stupid) tour I went on. (The tour was part of the two days/nights I spent in Kusadasi which I loathed!)

(PS: I'm back from my two-week blogging hiatus! What's new in your part of the world?)