Mistakes you make when Traveling

Have you ever ordered a meal off a menu because the picture looked like the meal would be delicious?  Did the meal live up to the expectations you had from the photo on the menu?
On a recent visit to Istanbul, I went to a local restaurant in a shopping mall.  They had posters of a delicious looking steak that was on special displayed all around the restaurant.  Of course all the writing on the posters was in Turkish.  As I can't read Turkish and the waiter couldn't speak English. I had to go by the picture.
BIG MISTAKE!

When the steak arrived my immediate observation was that it wasn't actually a steak, but rather thin slices of meat placed on flatbread.  I shrugged and decided if it tasted good, then all was fine in my world.  Before I could shovel the first forkful into my mouth, the waiter arrived with a pot filled with melted butter which he proceeded to pour over my meal.  I was aghast!  I have never been able to handle anything too oily and fatty.  Even cream makes me want to throw up.  Looking at my meal swimming in a sea of melted butter, I could feel my stomach heave.  Not wanting to waste money, I managed to pick off the slices of meat to eat, while trying not to look at the flatbread which was now sodden and soggy with the melted butter.  I bravely ate that meat while glaring at the misleading posters, fighting back the nausea.  For several hours afterwards, I felt physically ill.
The lesson to be learned, don't pick a meal based on a picture on the menu.
I guess another lesson could be not to order from a menu not written in English.  On a visit to Gabon, I went to a cute beach-side restaurant in Libreville.  The menu was in French, and the waitresses only spoke French.  My French is limited to words like 'restaurant' and 'bureau.'  I thought 'poisson' was the French for chicken, and was shocked to be served a very fishy stew with fish heads!
Maybe I'm a slow learner.

A couple of weeks ago, I was visiting Frankfurt.  Knowing that I would be arriving at the airport in time to board and I would't be able to check in luggage, I took a small carry-on and left behind my face cream, deodorant and toothpaste.  My thought was that I could buy toiletries in Frankfurt.  Also, as my residence card was about to expire, I didn't want to have any products in my bag that might draw attention to me, causing someone to ask me for identification.  One of the great things about traveling through the Schengen region, is that you aren't often asked to show identification.  But, I wanted to avoid chancing my luck.  However, on visiting the supermarket near my hotel in Frankfurt, I found identifying face cream to be a problem.  Toothpaste and deodorant were easily identifiable.  Browsing through the products on display, I decided to go with something that sounded familiar.  It said 'Creme' and 'Body Butter.'  Now I have to state, I use body butter from The Body Shop, as I find it works well on my sensitive skin.  The first time I tried the 'creme' on my face, it felt tight afterwards and stung a little bit.  The next day it stung even more and my skin started going red.  Stupidly, I used the 'creme' a third and then a fourth day.  By the fourth day my face was very red and burning.  I decided to wash my face to remove remnants of the 'creme.'  To my horror as I wet my face it started to foam.  It was at that point I realised that the 'creme' was not what I thought it was.  A closer look at the bottle showed the word 'douche' after the word 'creme.'  A German-speaking friend confirmed my worst fears.  The face cream I had been using on my ultra-sensitive skin for four days was actually Shower Gel!  No wonder my face felt tight, turned red and foamed when I washed it!

The Frankfurt visit influenced decisions I made for my Finland visit the following week.
I made three bad decisions.  The first one was to pack in my toiletries so that I didn't have to risk buying a wrong product in Finland as I can't read Finnish.  I didn't want a repeat of the 'creme douche' incident.  The second one was to send my passport away to another embassy to get a visa.  This effectively meant that I would be traveling to another country without a passport.  I didn't see this as a problem as nobody had wanted to see my residence card or passport when I left Frankfurt.  The third mistake was deciding to check-in my bag because I had packed in toiletries.
Well, the airline lady asked me for my passport when I tried to check-in my bag.  She refused to accept a certified copy of it or my now renewed residence card.  Instead, she canceled my flights right there and then.  This should have been devastating as I was leading a workshop the next day and people were counting on me.  Instead, I went to the airport Starbucks, not for a coffee, but to use their table so I could set up my laptop.  I quickly bought new plane tickets on a different airline.  I did not check-in my bag, but took it as hand luggage, my toiletries setting off the alarm.  Luckily, all I had to do was remove them from my bag and put them in a clear plastic ziploc bag they gave me.  Thank goodness nobody asked me for identification on the two flights to Oulu in Finland and the two flights back. 
Desperate times call for desperate measures. 
I blame this all on the toiletries!
Sometimes I think these kinds of things only happen to me.  Maybe it's because I am a risk-taker, who knows.
Cindy Vine is a South African living and working in Norway.  Cindy is the author of Hush Baby, The Freedom Club, Not Telling, CU@8, Defective and The Case of Billy B.  All her books are available on Amazon in both paperback and e-book format. http://cindyvine.com 

Confessions of a Solo Traveler

I like traveling and I'm lucky that I get to travel a lot.  However, my solo trips are usually ten days max.  This is the first time that I have traveled for such a long period by myself.
I'm not sure if I like it.
I think I might have made a few mistakes this trip, which has impacted on the success of it.
Have I seen a lot of different places?  Yes, definitely.  But, part of me feels that when planning the trip way back in March, I went for quantity rather than quality.
A person goes on holiday to rest, relax and recharge.
I forgot that in my initial planning of the trip.
I looked at a map and thought, it would be cool to stop off at these places.  Then I planned one day for traveling and 2 days to explore.  That was my biggest mistake.  While you can explore a city in 2 days, you need more time than that to factor in relaxation time.  Rushing from tourist sight to tourist sight leaves you exhausted, and then you have to pack up and move onto the next destination.  And, when I planned the holiday I didn't look at how one can get from one city to the next and the cost that involved.  Maybe it would have been better to visit fewer places and spend a week at a time in each destination.
Sometimes, it's not a matter of just jumping on a train or a bus.
Take getting from Valencia to Malaga for example.  A train trip would involve going via Madrid, with a few hours stopover, and another train to Malaga.  This would have taken about 8 hours and cost over 100 euros.  A bus trip was also over 100 euros and would take close on 12 hours.  I opted for catching a lift with someone who advertised the place in their car on Blablacar.  This only cost me 30 euros so I thought I had secured a bargain.
Hmmmmm.
The car was small, had no air conditioning, the driver didn't speak English and had 3 paying passengers squashed onto a back seat that could only fit 2 people comfortably.  Because I had a carry on suitcase as well as my huge suitcase with the broken wheel, I had to hold my carry on suitcase on my lap the whole trip, with my face pressed against the window.  6 hours.
I did not have a fun time.  Never again.  That's all I'm saying.  Loud Spanish rap music with driver and co-driver rapping the whole trip.  Fun times.  Not.
Malaga more than made up for the disastrous trip to get there though.
Dragging my big suitcase with the broken wheel to catch transportation was another nightmare.  Next time I need a suitcase that does not develop Popeye-type muscles in my right arm.  I need to travel lighter, although washing clothes on a 6 week holiday isn't the easiest.
By the time I got to Sevilla I was starting to get tired of my own company, and dare I say, tired of exploring.  I just wanted to chillax, but the trip I had planned way back in March allowed no time to chillax.  It was go, go, Go!

It took 3 buses to get from Tavira to Portimao.  By the time I arrived at Portimao I was so pissed off with traveling, I was ready to call it a day.  It was at that point I decided that it was okay if I didn't see everything and it was acceptable to spend the day sitting outside eating gelato.
Portimao to Lisbon took 2 trains, the second one delayed over 2 hours because of technical difficulties.  Lugging the big suitcase with the broken wheel, my smaller suitcase and backpack was no joke in the extreme heat.
The first train I had to stand for over an hour because a mother and her two teenage daughters thought it was acceptable to each sit on one seat and have their bags on the seat next to them, thus depriving three people of seats they had paid for.
I am still not amused.
I spent my time on that train thinking of suitable curses to put on the three of them.
This trip has given me way too much time for personal reflection.  It's quite depressing actually, when you look back on your life and the many mistakes you've made.  When you travel with someone you don't have time for thinking about your life.  But when you are alone, there is too much time for introspection.  I think a solo trip longer than 10 days might not be good for my mental health.
I feel compelled to record my trip with photographs.  I realise that few people will bother to look at my holiday pics, but it is important for me to do.  You see, I have noticed that my memory is going one word at a time.  It might take me a while to remember a particular word.  The other day it was 'bouncer.'  I had to say, "The person who is like an armed guard vetting people who go into a club."  And the person I was talking to said, "Oh you mean a bouncer."
Yep, it's like that.
So my hope is that when my memory is completely gone, some kind person will direct me to my Facebook where I have all my holiday photo albums, and I can look through the photos of the places I've been, things I've seen, people I've met and I can remember.
I was here.  I did live my life to the fullest.  I existed.

Cindy Vine is an author, teacher, mother, currently living and working in Norway.
Cindy writes the kinds of books she enjoys reading.
Books with real life issues that are thought-provoking and take you places you never thought you might go.
The Freedom Club is Cindy Vine's latest book.  It deals with the sensitive subject of high school bullying, teen suicides and school shootings.  You can buy it here.
All Cindy's books are available on Amazon.com in both paperback and kindle formats.
You can find some of Cindy's other titles here.