Category Archives: travel

it’s gonna be a good year.

I enjoy the beginning of a new year, because it gives me an excuse to listen to this on repeat for a few days. Not that I need an excuse.
 
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

See you next week, boys.
 
[Posted by Mallory]
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youtube clip of today: jed shireman.

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]

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how i lost my scuba virginity.

I miss 'er already.

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.

The path we walked many times each day.

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?

This is pretty much what I looked like, only my guide was on top of me making sure I didn't drown.

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.

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a quick hello from dahab, egypt!

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]

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and then i flew to jordan.

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):

This is actually what I'm wearing on the plane!

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]

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today is a google holiday, hooray!

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]

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guess what? i’m not a robot.

Kathleen discovered this song the other day and we (along with my work BFF…hi, work BFF!) have been listening nonstop ever since. I’ve decided that this gal is a mix of Regina Spektor, Kate Nash, and Lady Gaga. Lurve her:

This song makes me a little less depressed to be hanging out in National Airport for the next four hours. Why am I stuck in the airport, you ask? Short answer: because I’m an idiot. Basically, I thought, “Hey, even though normally I’m super cautious about getting to the airport extra early, I’ll calm down this time and just give myself a normal amount of time to get there!” BAD IDEA. As a warning to the rest of you: the second you try to “not have OCD,” the Metro will take forever, the airport shuttle won’t come, and you’ll find yourself pleading with two stoic Frontier agents who are all, “Oh, sorry, I understand that you have 25 minutes [Ed. Note: TOTALLY ENOUGH TIME] to run from here and try to get through security, but we’re going to make you wait for another four hours to fly.” And then they shuffle with papers and try to ignore that you’re crying a little too dramatically in front of them.

So, sorry I’m missing most of your bachelorette party, cousin Ashley. Turns out my neuroses are there for a reason, and ignoring them doesn’t work out well. Lesson learned.

UPDATE: Well, this is interesting. Turns out I wrote a very similar post on almost this exact date last year. I’m flying home for the same trip, the same weekend, AND using a flight voucher borrowed from my father again (which he earned on the same trip two years in a row). WEIRDNESS.

[Posted by Mallory]

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