Oh, I’m still living
At the old address
And I’m waiting on the weather
That I know will pass
I know that it’s true
It’s gonna be a good year
Out of the darkness
And into the fire
I tell you I love you
And my heart’s in the strangest place
That’s how it started
And that’s how it ends
Well I know you’re with me
It’s a point of pride
And it’s louder than lightning
In this room of mine
Oh, I’m just like you
I never hear the bad news
And I never will
We won by a landslide
Our troubles are over
My sisters are married to all of my friends
Yeah, that’s how it started
You took your sweet time
And I waited by without complaint
‘Til all the pipe dreams made me insane
So it’s all over
It’s all over anyhow
You took your sweet time
Finally, I opened my eyes
My friends and my family
They all ask me one thing
“How long will you ramble”
How long will you stay with me
The snow is still falling
I’m almost home
I”ll see you in the new year
Category Archives: travel
Sooo my friend Jed is really funny (and my best Cry Face Ambassador, as evidenced in lots of places on the blog that I can’t link to because I’m at work and they block everything about my blog except the dashboard) and you should watch this video. He’s huge in Japan:
He smiles at everything!
[Posted by Mallory]
As it turns out, that downtime in between day and evening never came to be. Instead, I sat with Ling and the folks with whom she had just completed a refresher scuba course as they rehashed the events of the day. We drank Stella beers (no, not Stella Artois…Egyptian Stella) and they talked about the fish they’d seen and what it felt like to be back in the water.
I had started a blog post in this same Word document five days ago when we were on the ferry from Aqaba, a beach town on the tiny coast of Jordan, to Egypt. As I write now, we are headed back the other direction, taking the ferry to Aqaba and staying a night before heading back to Amman for the duration.
The past week in Dahab, a laidback scuba town on the coast of the Red Sea in Egypt, has been phenomenal. Having traveled there before, Ling was very subtly encouraging me to choose a long stay in Dahab over a package deal in Sharm el-Sheikh, a larger and more touristy Egypt beach town south of Dahab. She had described to me just how relaxed Dahab was, but it was something I couldn’t quite imagine until I saw it. I’m so glad I trusted her, and feel so lucky to have spent a few days in such a gorgeous setting meeting such wonderful people. (And frankly, lucky to have gotten onto this ferry; the Sinai doesn’t really do organized tourism, so getting on this boat was an adventure. Let’s just say that an Egyptian line appears to be nothing more than a large crowd of people jostling one another in the vicintity of a ticket window of some sort.)
But back to the beginning of this leg of the trip: After an hour-long ferry ride, Ling and I arrived in Nuweiba, Egypt, where we were to meet a driver from our hotel who would take us on the hour-long journey to Dahab. When we got off the ferry, there was no driver to be found; instead, we found a mostly empty parking lot with a few buses and quite literally just followed the other tourists onto one of them. It was hot and things got sweaty, and after only a few minutes we were dropped off in another parking lot filled with cars and trucks and furniture and people. There were no signs to tell us where to go or how to find our drivers, so we more or less just wandered through a building or two until we arrived at something of a security checkpoint. And, thank god, on the other side of that security checkpoint a man was waiting with a sign with Ling’s name on it. (A bit different than when I arrived at the Queen Alia Airport in Amman and found my driver holding a sign that said “Ms. Mallory” – no last name. Made me smile.)
After several rounds of Would You Rather? (adult braces for a year, or pedophile glasses with transition lenses for a year?), we arrived at our hotel, Coral Coast, and instantly fell in love. It’s a tiny hotel with maybe a few dozen rooms, and the pool was literally steps away from the door of our cozy room. We spent the next four days doing what you do when you’re in Dahab: lounging by the pool, snorkeling and scuba diving, eating Asian food (yeah…I don’t quite understand either), and drinking lots of Egyptian Stella. It’s a place that makes it easy to forget that there’s a world outside, and in fact, many locals were once vacationers who found the thought of leaving Dahab unbearable. We met folks from London, the U.S., and New Zealand who had essentially dropped off the grid and now spent their days teaching scuba and living the dream.
Dahab (emphasis on the first syllable: DAH-hab) is known for its scuba diving, and although I’ve never dived before, I figured I couldn’t leave the place without getting a taste of some underwater adventure. I signed up for a “Discover Dive” course one day, overslept (that’s a shocker for those of you who know me), and rushed out of my room with nothing but a towel and lunch money. I hopped in a truck with my American-born dive instructor and two Welsh divers about my age and we drove 20 minutes south of Dahab to some of the loveliest landscape I’ve ever seen. As you’ll recall, I brought only a towel and lunch money, so there was no camera to document my adventure, but suffice to say it was amazing, and that I’m officially hooked. I spent the morning snorkeling, and I was so giddy and high on life that I kept laughing out loud underwater and gurgling (to the fishes, I guess), “I’m SNORKELING off the coast of AFRICA.” When I’d pop my head up, I’d see sandy beaches, sharp mountain ranges, and camels and then I’d duck back under and continue beaming to no one in particular.
Scuba diving itself was equally amazing. My guide, Matt, held onto my tank and took care of the other stuff that keeps you breathing on our 30-minute dive, and while the experience is a little nerve-wracking at first – I mean, you’re breathing underwater – it is ultimately freaking a-MAH-ing. I’m already dreaming up where I might go to take a full scuba certification course. Who’s in?
It’s hard to believe that this large chunk of the trip is already over, and it was even harder to leave a place that allowed me to spend my days in the water and my nights sitting on a bunch of pillows on a deck overlooking the water as I sipped cocktails, played gin rummy, and smoked sheesha (don’t worry, Ma; that’s not a drug). The night breeze almost makes you forget that the daytime is so hot that it’s impossible to spend more than a few minutes at a time outside of some body of water.
When it comes to vacations, I’ve always been frustrated with myself for taking a thousand scenery pictures that never mean much to me after the trip (and that my relatives have gotten rull bored looking at). But Dahab was so interesting that it was hard to not take a ton of photos of the beach, the shops, and the sights in general. It’s a strange place that’s both dirty and gorgeous; the streets are littered with bits of trash, as is the beach, and many of the buildings (even just outside the busting center of the city) look deserted. Stray dog and cats appear in every shop, hotel, and restaurant, and around every street corner. That description makes me think I’d hate the city, but all things considered, it’s still a beautiful place, and the contrast of, say, dirty streets to bright blue water silhouetted by mountains, makes you appreciate your surroundings even more. I could do without the extreme nature of the heat and the persistent shopkeepers (who were occasionally very creative – one man selling canvas bags yelled out, “Want to steal some money?!”), but they don’t make me love Dahab any less. I mean, I got to spend last night drinking Bedouin tea (a black tea made with sage), playing with an adorable puppy (pretty sure he didn’t have rabies….yet), and sitting by the ocean watching the moon rise. How can you argue with that?
I brilliantly didn’t bring my camera cord with me on the trip, so you may not be seeing photos of said gorgeous scenery until I’m back in DC (perhaps a bit sooner if we upload some of Ling’s). For now, I’m headed out, but I hope I can go back to Dahab soon. Tonight Ling and I will be staying in a slightly less sparse hotel in Aqaba, and I’ll be doing my best to avoid further sunburn and treat my totally badass “reef rash” which left me with large welts on my right knee. I’ll do my best to check in a bit more regularly, but again, I shouldn’t really promise anything. If you don’t hear from me for a few days, please assume that I’m having fun and ignoring my computer rather than slowly dying of coral poisoning.
The problem with planning to blog from your vacation is that if you’re having a blog-worthy vacation, you probably don’t have a lot of time to blog about it. That’s the issue I’ve been running into. I’m on a quick reapplication-of-sunscreen break in Dahab, where the pool and the 104-degree weather necessitating said reapplication is only steps away from my room. I’m sitting on a tiny twin bed looking at the towels on Ling’s bed, which have been twisted to look like swans kissing, and life is good.
Inshallah (“God willing” — I’m practically fluent already), I will update you in more depth at some point today during a bit of downtime between day and night. I won’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best. For now, know that Amman is fascinating, Aqaba (a beach town on Jordan’s coast) is lovely, and Dahab — with its laid-back vibe, phenomenal scenery, and roaming cats and dogs in lieu of hoards of tourists — is one of the most relaxing places I’ve ever been.
[Posted by Mallory]
Guys, it’s really happening. I’m about to get on a plane to Amman. Before my friend — we’ll call her “Ling” — moved there, I probably had devoted four seconds of brain space EVER to thinking about Jordan, and now I’m going there. When I’ve told most people where I’m going, they say “Jordan? Like, the country?” Yep. The country. And I cannot wait.
Based on at least two and a half votes, I have decided to blog about my adventures right here at Six Words. HOW EXCITED ARE YOU?! To fill you in on what exaaactly I’m doing going to Jordan (like, the country), here’s some back story: My friend, Ling, was in my grad school program. [Ed. note: It’s funny to type that, because there was a girl in my grad school program whose name actually was Ling. Maybe we should have thought that one through before developing nicknames.] She got a kickass fellowship to move to Amman for nine months to study Arabic. She’s been there since January and knows lots more Arabic words than I do (I’ve got inshallah and habibi…we’ll see how far that gets me). Here’s a photo of Ling and I on Halloween last year (I was Bob Ross and she was my canvas):
Our itinerary is fairly flexible, but the trip will include at least the following: living in luxury at a fancy hotel in Aqaba, on the Red Sea; putzing around Dahab, a laid-back beach town in Egypt; visiting Petra, one of the coolest places ever in the world according to lots of people; hanging out in Amman; etc. If I’m lucky, I might even learn two more Arabic words.
Even though I’m talking travel, it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t include some sort of wacky video from the Interwebs. Here you go. Somewhat inexplicably, I think that video is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Thanks for the tip, Mouser.
And now, to Amman! I’ll see YOU on the flipside!
[Posted by Mallory]
Today’s Google Holiday: The 71st Anniversary of The Wizard of Oz. This is a fun one, no? I loved that movie so much as a child, but I was also completely and utterly terrified by it. I have distinct memories of sitting in the basement of my old house, hiding under blankets whenever the Wicked Witch or those horrible monkeys were onscreen. Not much has changed; on the rare occasion that I watch a scary movie as an “adult” (HAHAHA), I just cover my eyes and plug my ears and then have nightmares for years. (Speaking of which, read this.)
What I was Googling: jordan. Why, you ask? BECAUSE I’M GOING THERE IN A WEEK! I’m like, really excited. I definitely want to blog while I’m there, though I haven’t decided whether I should do that here or make a new blog. Kathleen has a different blog for her travels, but I’m lazy, so do I want to do that? It’s not like we have much going on at Six Words these days. Any thoughts on the subject?
[Posted by Mallory]
Mornin’, world! I’m waiting at my gate ready to head to Philly to stay with my favorite Korean correspondent and her family! While there, I will witness the baptizing of a few demons (yes, that’s right), drink at cheap bars in the suburbs, and eat way too much food. Guest Blogger SWTCTW Shan will be there for a bit, and if you’re lucky, we’ll work in a joint post among all the tomfoolery.
I just went through security, and things were fine — the line goes quickly when you’re, um, reading Texts from Last Night on your phone. But while waiting, I saw an interesting sign that was supposed to be recognizing one of the TSA guys for his hard work. The sign talked about how this guy speaks Turkish, German, and Italian fluently, and to that I say “IMPRESSIVE!” After that, the sign commended this guy for his security screening skills, which were exemplified when he spotted a loaded firearm in the x-ray machine. Now, that’s great. Really. I’d prefer to not have any loaded firearms on my flight. But isn’t that the most basic and essential aspect of his job? Shouldn’t we EXPECT the security dudes to be able to spot LOADED FIREARMS on the security belt? I’m not even a trained TSA official, and I think I might be able to catch that. It might be more commendable — and worthy of a sign — if, say, the employee had spotted two tiny containers of liquid that could be mixed together to blow up a plane. Or something.
I’ll catch you on the East Coast, yippee!
[Posted by Mallory]
Soooo hey there strangers. In the past I’ve read a few blogs where the person writing said blog is all, “Oh my god, I am going to be so busy this month, look at my schedule,” and then proceeds to list everything they’re doing for the next four weeks. Which is, of course, the bloggy equivalent of an away message listing all of the papers you have to write. Which is, of course, REALLY irritating.
But people, I have been busy. And some people are good at being busy and still managing to do things like write on their blog and exercise and eat things that aren’t brownies, but it has become clear that I’m not that kind of person. Luckily, I’ve been good busy. As in, have gotten to go on several great trips to places I love and have done nothing about which I can complain. Still, the bloggy guilt has been weighing on me in a major way.
Most recently, I got back from a sorority reunion trip to Portland, Maine, where I went lobstering and cocktailed too much and ate too much and generally had too much fun. I got back to D.C. from that wonderful trip at 7:30 a.m. yesterday, and then I went back to my apartment and moved to a new apartment. And by moved I mean packed the rest of my stuff into trashbags and carried pillows while a sweaty Frenchman and a sweaty Bostonian carried my couch into their truck. Mmm, hiring movers. Then I packed another suitcase and now I’m in New Mexico for my very first grown-up business trip.
One of the perks of grown up business trips is that you get your own (!!!) hotel room. I am inordinately excited about this. It may only be a Holiday Inn Express, but I have my own teevee and my own bed and I can take over the whole sink AND I have free wireless. Did I also mention that I know no one in New Mexico, so at the end of the day I have no choice but to snuggle in my bed and blog? Yeah, that’s kind of nice too.
I’m not sure what the point of this post is, except to confess my guilt about the lack of blogging (three cheers for stubborn Catholic guilt!), and, in some way, to see in writing how cool the last month has been for me.
I often think about this concept: what if, ten years ago, someone gave you a snapshot or a brief video of a moment of your life right now? And you had no context and all you could see was what was going on right then and there, and wonder, “How on earth did I get there?” I had one of those moments tonight. I mean, I was sitting in a circle with a bunch of amazing people at least 15 years my senior in Albuquerque, New Mexico, passing around some sort of tribal object and talking about our hopes and aspirations for this workshop we were attending. What would 13-year-old Mallory have thought about that? I bet she’d be confused, and very, very curious.
Which is to say, you can’t imagine all the good things coming to you. You really can’t. (And yes, I did read that on the flap of a box of Sun-Maid raisins.)
[Posted by Mallory]
Mark E. White was only trying to make his getaway after robbing the bank in Saginaw, Michigan.
According to the news story, Marky Mark had just gotten out of the slammer three weeks earlier when he decided to rob the Citizens Bank. He was successful, and two blocks later tried to hitch a ride. He flagged down a car… which happened to be an unmarked police car. Needless to say, he was caught.
Now Mr. White, I am not a criminal — nor do I have any plans to ever become one– but I’m pretty sure that if I was, I’d make sure I arranged my transportation ahead of time. Maybe that’s just me.
Ah, stories about dumb criminals. It makes you feel just a little bit better about your Monday morning, no?
[Posted by Kathleen]