Makeshift laundry

Face it.. you have to have done something like this to claim traveler title!

Bar of soap = stain remover
Bathtub = washer
Bath suds = detergent
Spigot = rinse
Towel = spin
Hair dryer = dry
Hanger = clothes line

Santorini Smiles

As what I call my “Do-Over sunny get away” I went to Santorini, Greece. The Greek Islands never really appealed to me.. they struck me as cliche, build solely for tourists these days. But it was the perfect therapy.

I was sitting in a restaurant for a late lunch, on a day that was also Greek Orthodox Sunday. Enjoying the quiet, digesting a phenomenal bowl of mussels and savoring a glass of white wine. The only other occupied table was being assembled to stretch across the entire length of the restaurant balcony. Someone approached me and insisted I join them for a glass of wine. It’s Easter, he said, and they feel very uncomfortable having me eat on my own on this special holiday. Please join then for a glass of wine to celebrate.

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Three courses, countless glasses of wine later, I finally excused myself. They had ended up serving me their share of the Easter lunch. I wasn’t the only invitee.. Italian, Austrian, and this American.. they had opened their tables to their visitors and friends.

It’s all great until…

I don’t think there are many things that better than the sound of waves crashing on a pebbled beach…

 

… unless your bladder is begging to be relieved and there isn’t a loo in sight.

So, now what? Part 2: Using B&Bs

I’ve started enough B&Bs in New Zealand, where they brought out some terrific hospitality. When the owners of on place in the USA checked on me to make sure I got home, as if I were their own daughter, I knew this was the way to travel, especially as a lone female.

I’ve been meaning to post and praise bed and breakfast establishments. Living in Europe, travel has been considerably more expensive than in Southeast Asia. I found B&Bs to be an excellent alternative. The more I travel throughout the UK, the more fun I find in trying an assortment of places and comparing notes.

It seems counter intuitive. B&Bs are often people’s own homes. You are walking into their space, living under their roof. The smallest B&B I stayed at was all of two rooms where they keep the adjoining doors locked and a back entrance separate from their own. Some rooms I’ve stayed at had old photos of their family’s generations past. One had an eerie porcelain-faced doll staring right at me when I lay in bed (I ended turning her face away). One had a rocking chair with a quilt throw sewn by the owner’s grandmother. Another had such a dangerously steep ladder called a staircase that had I been wearing a skirt, anyone “downstairs” would be looking right up at my crotch. Definitely not a universally clearly  standard of size, shape, safety, or decor.

The bathrooms are always a hoot. Some of them were added as part of the conversion into a B&B. One had a large bedroom, but turned the closet into the ensuite “facilities” where I had to keep the sliding door open so I can sit on the toilet comfortably. Continental Europeans seem to have something against showers and shower curtains- leaving the entire room to inevitably be doused sopping wet with no safe corner for your towel.

Each new B&B is an adventure. I have a little bit of excitement walking into a new one each time. The truth is.. you really don’t know what to expect at all!

One this I found to be consistent across the board is the superb hospitality of all the hosts and hostesses. As varying as the definition of comfort and furnishings are, never had any of them shied from helping or offering help. Every single place I’ve been, the owners had plenty of recommendations, most of which pan out. My recent scare has now pushed me to B&Bs even more than ever now.

It’s not to say B&Bs are a sure bet. I do much more meticulous research on these accommodations because it still is someone’s home I would be walking into. Sites like TripAdvisor, toprooms.co.uk, and Booking.com are crucial not only because ratings give a perspective by past guest experiences but also because these independent establishments rely on large travel sites and good customer reviews to bring business to them. The reputation of a chain like Four Seasons will always have a consistent clientele and have a reputation of maintaining standards in all their locations. B&Bs don’t have the same branding advantage, making customer reviews their key to success.

So, now what? Part 1: Using all the services

I admit blogging was the last thing on my list of things to do lately. But in my quest to resume as much normality and routine in my life as possible, it meant it’s time to resume. I found myself stalled for a while. What does one say after sharing something so personal and so emotional? I then realized, well, it’s time to talk about how to travel, how I travel again.

To say that nothing changed would be a blatant lie. I was at a group lunch recently when we were talking about people and shrinks (not a segue from my experiences, but from leadership training, believe it or not). One guy said “It’s tragic if someone was abused as a child but to imagine that it would change and define that person for her whole life, I don’t get it.” While I have no doubt he has no maliciousness about it, as poorly his judgement may reflect, it made me think that whether or not I realized it, I have changed. And in the scale of ways to victimized, I could have been faced with so much worse.

It’s an experience that in part of me now, a change in my psyche, but it won’t be the defining thing of my life. Surprisingly, I haven’t been scared off traveling a whit. It wasn’t a willed reaction, a forced effort to move on. It just was. I checked into the next hotel without hesitating; I continued my trip in CA after a brief pause and a few nights with local relatives.

I’ve always considered myself a pretty careful person. I can’t claim 100% attention span… I get tired, hungry, distracted. Travel to various third world countries have taught me some habits already. I always travel with a pocket knife, except in Japan and in the UK. I glance at all the hallways when I get off the elevator. I keep something sharp- a key, a pen- in one hand when walking in the dark. However, I was caught off guard that night. I was exhausted, after 12+ hours of travel, 8 hour time difference, no restful sleep in over 18 hours, my belongings all tightly packed in my check-in luggage. And in my mind, I was back in America and checked into a reputable hotel chain.

So, I now use all the services offered by the hotels. Valet parking? Sure. Bellhop? Please. Walk through the room with a staff to go over how the A/C works? Absolutely.

I had been one of those who always turned away the bellhop. My bags have wheels. I had found the service to be unnecessary and I rarely think to have small bills available for tip. Not anymore. I’ll change $100 for all $1 at the reception desk if I have to. If he takes the service elevator while I take the guest, I’ll even wait in the hall for him to show up.

I have also started walking the entire length of the hallway my room is in, and back, before I actually enter. Where the guy came from that night is a difference of opinion between the police and me. I think he was already in the room. The police thinks he followed me. I decided I’d rather be confronted in the public hallway than cornered in a private room.

How I got right back to routine travel, I don’t know. I didn’t stop to analyze how I’d deal with it, I just did. Two key factors in my recovery I believe are loved ones and one excellent hotel. My aunt flew down as soon as she could to spend time with me, giving me company, not letting me out of her sight for more than a couple minutes, day and night. My cousins called as soon as they heard, giving me a home I can spend a few nights in to regain my equilibrium. My friends and family called, some daily, to check on me, be a listening ear for my emotions at the moment.

Before I went to my cousin’s, I still stayed at a hotel. The police offered to move me to a different hotel and I took them up on the offer in a heartbeat. They informed the management of the second place the gist of my circumstances. The head of security immediately introduced himself to me, told the front desk to leave instruction that house keeping does not disturb me. For the following three days I stayed there, I always saw a security staff roaming the hallways. The rest of the staff was not informed, but they were so attentive. My keys frequently demagnetised, leaving me to constantly ask for help. The bellhops staff recognised me with my roaming, my trying to find the services around the hotel. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have stayed at any more hotels immediately after. But this one had such excellent service and cheerfulness that without realizing it, they demonstrated that I can still stay in one of these establishments comfortably.

For all those who helped, knowingly or not, I am thankful. To find that I would be paralized from travel would be devastating. It is an inherent component to my work and a big hobby. I can’t begin to the express my relief that didn’t happen.

Losing trust in myself

Good morning, readers, friends, and family.

I have been absent a lot lately. The first couple months of the year, I have no real excuse. Life just gets in the way of blogging. I am on holiday now, with every intention of catching up, and finishing up drafts of old posts and that is when the monkey wrench was thrown into my rather happy life.

I landed back in the States, in San Francisco, eager to start a wonderful trip in one of my favourite areas. I checked into a hotel, went to my room. There I got robbed at gun point. I was just in the room and something made me turn around. In doing so, I saw a man covered up and pointing a gun at me.

He took all my electronics, cash, and some other belongings. What was more unnerving was how he took his time and was methodical. I was blindfolded and told to lie face down on the bed. I could hear him open all my bags and dump the contents out.

I told the police this wasn’t his first rodeo. He was too slow, calm to never have done something like this before. He had the presence of mind to make sure I took the password protection off all the electronics, rebooting them to confirm. Oddly he didn’t find my driver’s license, even asking me to take it out. I pointed him to my overseas ID card.

I was held hostage for about two hours. I got the sense he tried to leave earlier, but there might have been people in the hallway. He told me to fall asleep and that he would leave half an hour after I was asleep. When he found that I wasn’t sleeping, even checking my pulse to confirm, he accused me of not complying.

He eventually left. He didn’t close the door completely. That door closing was what I was waiting for and I must have waited for another 10 minutes after his departure when I dared to lift my head and look around.

The police knocked on the doors of the rooms in the same hallway asking if anyone has noticed anything. Neighbours confirmed hearing commotion. Hearing that was like a stab in the stomach. I know hotels have an aura of privacy but what if someone had knocked to check? What if my two hour ordeal could have  been aborted?

It was the fact that I was held two hours and the fact that his grubby paws touched every possession I had on me that has left me shaken. Had he taken my stuff and just ran, I might not be having such an emotional response. I would have been angry and that would be the end of it. Instead I feel violated, unsafe. Worst, I don’t know how comfortable I would be in a hotel anymore. As a frequent business and leisure traveler, how this impacts me remains to be seen.

I chose not to publish more detail, as cathartic as writing may be, because the police are investigating and I don’t want to interfere with or jeopardise their work. As tempting as Internet shaming the hotel is, I am not ready to do so yet. God knows that hotel has a lot to answer for and that I will never set a foot in any of their properties again. Believe me, all will be revealed in due time.

For the most part, my lost items are a minor nuisance. I am lucky in the sense that I have the financial means to replace my belongings and track my credit activity. What hurts the most is the external hard drive used as an archive of my photos taken since 2008. I have them backed up over Christmas, so the only photos lost were those of 2013. But emotionally, that is the hardest loss to take. In addition to my comfort in traveling being abused, I now lost my best record of my past travels.

I am eternally grateful for my family and friends who helped bring my vacation and my life back on track and the outpour of love and support from those everywhere else in the world. I know we often feel words are useless when we say them but during the ordeal I had never felt so alone. Hearing from people now have helped me realize I really am not alone and I do have loved ones caring.

South West Coast Path: Porthleven

Last day on my Christmas weekend trip. Thanks to the combination of weekend timing and Boxing Day, I’ve had an unusually long long weekend. I thought I’d be ready to go, but as the time goes by, I find myself more and more enamored by Cornwall.

I squeezed in a last hike. I started late, taking advantage of the fact that St. Michael’s Mount is open for the holiday, a rare winter availability.

I drove to Porthleven to try to finish up my segment. As I started to warm to the idea of completing the entire South West Coast Path as a life goal, I decided to try to tie my segments to the ones listed on the SWCP website. I was to connect the bit from where I left off on Christmas Day when I just couldn’t seem to get closer to the village within my sight- Porthleven.

It wasn’t even far. It was ridiculously close, where I left off that day. But it was far more scenic from the direction I walked today.

Highlights- West End: N50 05.581 W5 20.798
- East End: N50 11.292 W5 26.191
- Entire Distance walked: 5 miles
- Weather: dreary grey, but dry. Muddy, I now understand why people stroll in Wellies.

Porthleven: Charming town that grew from a fishing village and port. Views are much prettier walking east to west, with the rolling cliffs and varying landscapes.
I was every so reluctant to start my drive inland.