[E] is for [Expensive Rugs]

location // Kusadasi, Turkey

When I'm talking "expensive rugs," I'm not saying rugs that are hundreds of dollars. Nope, what we're looking at here is thousands and tens of thousands of dollars. I don't even think that "expensive" covers these rugs appropriately! 

But while I'm saying that the Turkish silk rugs are beyond pricey, I actually don't think that they're grossly overpriced. I mean, $10,000 is way more than I'm ever spending on something that I wipe my feet on (and if I ever become a millionaire and start to spend my money like this, someone give me a reality check, please.), but when we got an up-close and personal look at the amount of work and effort that goes into each and every rug, I began to see a little justification for the hefty price tags. 

Before boarding our cruise ship and leaving Turkey in the wake, we took a pit stop at a Turkish rug maker. Walking in, the first thing that caught my eye was a giant loom. Sitting in front was a Turkish woman that was dwarfed by the loom which she was threading. The particular rug that she was working on had been in progress for over a month and seemed as if it were barely even started! Each and every row of silk that she twisted and pulled into a future finished masterpiece was so intricate and complicated.

The next thing that we crowded around to catch a glimpse of was how the silk was gathered.  I can't even explain the process because I don't know the technical terms and I'm not about to make you read sentences like "and the worms were in this thing and then they spun it and then they used this other thing to get the silk and . . . " so you can probably google the process if you're interested. But it was really, really cool and all I could think of was how someone even invented this process.

Then we were given apple tea to drink as they unrolled like 30 rugs for us to see. Petting and stepping on the rugs were encouraged, so we all looked like we had dropped something in the carpet as we walked around hunched over with our eyes on the floor.

Overall, seeing the process of how Turkish silk rugs are made was really interesting. Would I ever buy one? No. Even though they are so beautiful and unique, do you know how many other things I could buy with a couple thousand?

Would I visit again? Yes! Because then I would get apple tea and maybe be able to pick up the lingo of silk gathering so I could explain it a little better.

I did not leave the rug place empty-handed though! I picked up a rug bookmark for only €3 which I totally thought was a steal until I found the same exact ones in the Turkish bazaar about 10 minutes later with a price tag of €1.

Oh well, I guess that I can say I bought an overpriced Turkish rug then.

Have you ever seen the process of rug making?

xx,
Allison

[D] is for [il Duomo]

It's Thursday.  Let's throw it back a little bit to last July.  

Imagine me sitting at a Panera Bread 15 minutes before their close, frantically trying to upload a scholarship paper.  The internet connection was down at home, so I was praying that their website would get its act together [who am I kidding? It was probably bogged down by 2,483 other applicants  submitting their entries with minutes to spare like I was doing.] and hurry up on the photo uploading process before Panera closed.

The scholarship in discussion here was a teen travel blog contest.  Umm, I'm a teen. And I travel.  And I conveniently have a blog as well.  It was meant to be, obviously.  

As the last photo finally spun its way to 100% uploaded, I breathed a sigh of relief, hit submit, and got out of there before any more annoyed glances were shot my way.  

Fast forward to the present.  I had completely forgotten about that scholarship and became really anxious to see what had happened with it.  Not to toot my own horn here, but in terms of writing and grammar, I generally know where to put commas and stuff which leads to a large advantage over a lot of my peers.  So I got excited, hoping to see some prize money with my name on it, just waiting for me to swing on by and claim it.  

However, what I found was completely different.  

Instead of the best case scenario of "Congratulations! You're a winner! Here, take $1,000!" I found the word "disqualified." 

Why? Because I hadn't uploaded a stupid profile picture, that's why.  

This really bugged me all week long and to be honest, I was a little upset with myself for most of the day after I found out. Not being one who enjoys to dwell on the negatives though, I figured that since I had been disqualified, I can at least share my story here now!

And get this: my A to Z Europe series is now on letter D and I had written all about the Duomo in Florence, Italy.  See?  Every cloud has a silver lining! So without further ado, I present to you my disqualified essay travel blog!

location // Florence, Italy

I glanced down at my watch for what must have been the third time that minute.  The line wasn’t getting any shorter, but time was certainly ticking. To take my mind off my watch, I looked up to take in the intricate detail that adorned the Cathedral of Florence. That view was much better than the one of the seconds flying by.  

After we had passed about an hour admiring the Cathedral from the line, the chance that we had been waiting for finally presented itself.  We were next in line to take a stab at climbing the 463 steps that wound their way up to the viewing platform of il Duomo. 

We had been told that the ascent itself, not including time at the top to drop our jaws because of the view or the climb down, took 45 minutes.  Our group meeting time was slotted for 5 pm which was less than 40 minutes away.  We had to move! 

Directed into a narrow, concrete stairway, I stepped up onto the first stair.  

“Good news, guys! Only 462 steps to go!” Sometimes I’m funny. That wasn’t one of those times.  

Placing one foot in front of the other, over and over and over again, we were climbing.  Attempting to keep track of where we were, I counted the stairs in my head, updating everyone every fifty steps.  At one point, a constant spiral of 150 stairs in a row made my head spin, but I kept going because I was determined to make it to the top.  No way was I going to stand in line for about an hour only to miss out on the view! 

Part of the climb takes you right up close and personal with the frescoes in the dome.  It was incredible!

Eventually, I lost track of what step we were on and my legs were definitely not feeling as fresh as they had before I had bounded up the first 200. Luckily for me, this is when the waiting game started.  Due to the less than abundant width of the staircase, there was barely enough room for a single file line to pass through, so even beginning to imagine that two-way traffic was possible could be considered insane.  

One of the more spacious stairwells. 

Facing a steady flow of descending tourists, we were doomed to stand on a crowded landing for eternity.  Well, at least that’s how it felt.  When there was finally a large enough break for us to claim our spot on the stairs, we were headed up again. 

Soon, the stairs got even steeper.  After one final mini-stairwell, we hit step number 463 and all of a sudden, we were on top of the world.  

Literally stopping in my tracks, I breathed “wow” over and over again.  The entire city of Florence stretched out below me and the hills undulated in the distance.  The bell tower, which had completely dwarfed me when I had my feet on the ground, was now like a little kid that I had to look down to see. 

Wow.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to see the view from all 360°, I slowly made my way around the platform, never taking my eyes off the scenery.  

After I made my rounds, I regrettably began my descent back to the real world. As I stepped down, down, down, I mused over the incredible display of beauty I had just taken in. After 463 more stairs that were a piece of cake compared to the first set of 463, I stepped into the sunlight.

My jaw dropped for the second time that day when I learned that we still had ten minutes to spare until we met our group.  Wow. 

[C] is for [cats]

location // Delphi, Greece

Let's get this post started off right: 

Now that you have a clear idea about how Debbie feels about cats, you are somewhere in the ballpark of my feelings towards cats.  I just love them, but I don't want to have them in my bed. Animals just don't understand personal space.

Greece was a cat-lover's heaven.  You don't even have to try to find cats - look anywhere and it's pretty much guaranteed that you will see a cat! This was especially unfortunate for the three cat-loathers that I was traveling with, but hey! more cat pictures for me.  To show you how dominant the cat control of the Grecian streets is, I made a collage for your viewing pleasure.

Ta-da!

Since I had so many opportunities to express my affection towards cats, I gained a reputation.  By the end of the trip, I was responding to CL like it was the name on my birth certificate. Cat Lady, that is.  Whenever anyone would see a cat, they would run over to me and point it out so I wouldn't miss it. Everyone showed me their own cat pictures and made sure that I noticed all of the cat themed merchandise.  I even got a "Cats of Greece" 2015 mini-calendar from a lady that I traveled with, so y'all can be excited for that after the new year. 

In the top photo, you see me stealing the show with my feline friends.  We were waiting for some people to take a bathroom break for the seventh time that day before we went up to see the Temple of Apollo in Delphi. Standing in this little outdoor café area, I counted - no joke! - 14 cats lounging around and pretending like they didn't see us.  

However, there was this little guy who stole my attention.  

 To him, this stick was dabomb.com. He was having a ball pushing and tossing it around.  In my infinite cat-wisdom, I decided it was a good idea to take the stick to play with him a little bit. And he loved it! But so did the 13 other cats.  

In no time, I was surrounded - literally surrounded! - by a hoard? school? flock? (I like flock) flock of cats who all decided that since I was now providing entertainment, they would acknowledge my presence. And then this drew a crowd of people who all watched me play with the cats.  

Here I was, kneeling on the ground, trying to please all of my new cat acquaintances with equal stick-playing time, surrounded by cats, surrounded by people. 

That is officially the peak of my cat lady-ness. 

I'm very cool. I know that already; you don't have to tell me. 

Happy Thursday!

Love,

Allison

(And if I ever do decide to pursue "cat lady" as a career, I know a place where my business can take off!) 

[B] is for [bridges]

I was having a really hard time deciding how to tell all my stories from Europe.  I don't want it to drag on forever but there are just so many things I want to share!  I decided to start Italy & Greece from A to Z.  I'll go in alphabetical order and pick a picture with something that starts with the letter that we're on and I'll tell the story behind it. But don't worry, it won't be 26 days straight of  Europe stories. Promise. 

location // Venice, Italy

It's what you've all been waiting for: Europe pt. 2!  Out of all of the places that I went to, Venice takes the cake for having the most bridges.  So if you're a bridge enthusiast of any kind, I would recommend Venice! 

The first taste of them that I got was when we took a mini-walking tour of the Italian islands. Our guide told us that every time we crossed a bridge, we were on a new island, which for some reason, I thought was really cool! 

One of my favorite things about the Venetian bridges was that all of them were different.  Each had its own distinct "personality." The black and white one above was one of my favorites because it just seemed so sophisticated to me.  I know, I'm a snob about my bridge preferences, you don't have to tell me.  

After our walking tour, you've probably guessed by my spoiler pictures that we took a gondola ride! Unfortunately, my expectations crashed and burned because our gondolier didn't sing to us.  What.a.bummer. 

A few times, I was honestly concerned that we were going to tip as we had been seated extremely unequally weight-wise.  Other than that, I really loved the canals of Venice.  When you take some of the back canals, everything is so quiet, peaceful, and quaint.  I could have stayed for hours.  

Can you imagine looking out your bedroom window and having this canal as your view? 

Of course, I couldn't show you all these other bridges without showing you the Bridge of Sighs! For those of you who don't know, the Bridge of Sighs is named this because it connects the prison and the interrogation room in the Doge's Palace.  As prisoners would cross the bridge, it was said that they would sigh because they knew that they were pretty much walking to their execution.  

Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to walk on the bridge.  I unknowingly turned around to head out of the Doge's Palace just before the entrance to the bridge.  I was so bummed when I found out what I had missed.

Have you ever been to Venice and crossed any of these gorgeous bridges? Do you want to? 

Love,

Allison

[A] is for [apples]

I was having a really hard time deciding how to tell all my stories from Europe.  I don't want it to drag on forever but there are just so many things I want to share!  I decided to start Italy & Greece from A to Z.  I'll go in alphabetical order and pick a picture with something that starts with the letter that we're on and I'll tell the story behind it. But don't worry, it won't be 26 days straight of  Europe stories. Promise. 

location // Ferrara, Italy

So, for my very first installment of Italy & Greece from A to Z, out of all the pictures that I could have chosen of notable European landmarks, I picked the one that could have been taken at the grocery store five minutes from my house.  Heck, it could have been taken at my house based on the number of apples that we buy.  

But it is the A to Z challenge, isn't it? And apples start with A, so this is what we're talking about (never mind Athens and Assisi and the Acropolis and art . . . nope, it's apples). 

This picture comes with some emotional baggage for me.  Every time I see it, I crack a smile because of the ridiculous amount of work they ended up being.  So, gather 'round the campfire because it's story time!

Once upon a time when I was packing for my European adventure, I made sure to throw some Jif-To-Go peanut butter in my bag because 18 days is way too long for a girl and her PB to be separated.  Fast forward about four days and I was already needing a creamy fix. We made a short stop in Ferrara and my eyes quickly found a small supermarket.

Supermarket meant that there was a large chance of apples, which as everybody knows, is peanut butter's best friend.  Luckily for me, they didn't just have apples, they had my favorite type of apples! I know, it was like I was floating on a cloud.

I picked out four good looking ones to share with some friends later at our apples&peanut butter party that I was planning on hosting and stuck them in my backpack for later.

I kind of wanted to dig into one them right then and there, but I have this thing with unwashed fruit where I either wash it or don't eat it. So, we stopped at a little bakery and while everyone was enjoying their Italian pastries, I snuck into the bathroom to do some fruit washing.

As it turned out that there was one sink that was shared by both the men's and the women's bathrooms. And also conveniently didn't have a counter attached.  And to top it all off, the sink was really gross so if an apple fell, it was never coming back.  No pressure, right?

After trying to hold all four apples, turning the faucet on with my elbows, and thoroughly soaking my sleeves,  I let myself think that the apples were more clean than they were before and that I better get out of there before someone came out of the bathroom/I dropped one.  So I turned around to grab some paper towel and lo and behold, there was a hand dryer smirking at me. (It was totally smirking, I swear.)

Usually I'm pretty eco-friendly friendly but I was not appreciating the hand dryer at this moment.  So I compromised and dug my rain jacket out of the bottom of my bag and wrapped the apples up all while giving the evil eye to the dryer.  With those kind of survival skills, I'm pretty sure I could be a boy scout.

Many hours and a walking tour of Florence later (those suckers added some serious weight to my backpack!) there was finally an opportune time for some apples&PB. This time occurred in our hotel room which conveniently featured a clean sink complete with a full counter.  I wish I was kidding.

But it's a good ending because I ate my peanut butter and lived happily ever after.

The end.

Just kidding, that's not the end.

But, wait! There's more! 

Only three apples were consumed at my apples&PB party, so using math skills, that means that one was left. I stuck it in the mini-fridge for the next day and accidentally left it there forever and ever.  After all that, I just forgot about it.

*slow clap*

Okay, now it's the end for real.  I feel like this post should start a What I'd #DoForPeanutButter hashtag.  What would you #DoForPeanutButter?