I saw London and I saw France.

Unfortunately, no underpants were involved.

The first most exciting part of these particular trips was seeing familiar faces and spending time with my family. My best friend since first grade, Yasmin Sinclair, was studying abroad in Paris while I was in Cyprus. I couldn't have planned that out any better if I tried because she made my Parisian visit significantly more affordable/comfortable than if I had to do a hotel/hostel stay. Yasmin and her room mate Yodalis were excellent hosts and surprisingly informative tour guides when time permit. When I arrived, I was on spring break and they were still in school so there were some times where I was left to explore on my own. But nonetheless Yodalis is well versed in her knowledge of Le Jardins du Luxembourg and Yasmin should have been on the payroll at Versaille.

What I know about Luxembourg and Versaille
1. Yodalis told me that Marie Medici who was married to Henry IV had the palace at Luxembourg built because she hated living in the Louvre. She was from Florence and she wanted a castle that reminded her of home, so as soon as her husband was assassinated she acquired the property at Luxembourg and built herself and ideal place to stay.


Funny Story. Well, at least I thought so...

After the Luxembourg tour, Yodalis and I went shopping around St. Germain. We went to Les Galleries Lafayettes (words cannot express the magnitude of fashion within that building. I spent an hour in the shoe department alone and could barely say anything else but "Wow.") and while we were in there I bumped into some students from Morgan. Accidentally bumping into people you know on the other side of the world is the coolest feeling ever. Then we hit Les Champs-Élysées, which is like a 5th Avenue in Paris. Stopping here was really important for me because when I was a little girl my Dad used to sing me a song called Aux Champs-Élysées to put me to bed.

Anyways, by the time we finished our window shopping spree, we were rushing to get home to Yasmin who had been out of class for a while. Now the trains come realitvely quickly in France (3-5 minutes waiting time on good days) so there never is a need to rush into a train that is about to depart. Well, Yodalis and I must have thought we were back in NY because when we saw the train on the platform we took off running to make it through the doors. Yodalis was in front of me and once she got onto the train she didn't even look back at me and before I could jump in the doors started closing. I freaked out and tried to pry the doors open with my hands and some people on the platform were helping me. Yodalis had people inside the train yanking too but the doors would not budge. At all. So I let go but it clamps shut so fast that my fingers get caught in the door and the train is about to pull off. Now I'm screaming because I don't want my fondest memories of Paris to be tainted by the ones of me being in the E.R. getting my fingers sewed on. The train gods must have sensed my struggles and they allowed me to safely remove my hand before the train pulled off. I got on the next train that came 3min after and Yodalis was waiting for me at the next stop. We died of laughter alllllllllllllll the way home.

2. Yasmin told me ALOT while we were roaming the ornate hallways and manicured grounds of the Palace of Versailles but my favorite story of all time has to do with this speck of a statue in the background of this picture.
Make it bigger, zoom in, put your glasses on, get a magnifying glass... the point is you can't see it because it's ALL THE WAY on the OTHER SIDE of the garden. Now why would Louis XIV go out of his way to put the statue so far away from everything else? To make sure that when he made it to that part of the garden on his daily walks he had something nice to look at? SIKE. As Yasmin tells it, King Louis asked a famous Italian sculptor to come to the palace and work on some pieces for him. The sculptor made several items for the King but none of them were to his taste. Instead of having the sculptor keep trying, the King pretended to like a random one to end the process. He liked it so much he put it where no one could ever get the opportunity to like it as much as him. How rude.

In London, I was able to link up with people from both side of my family. My maternal grandfather's brother, Uncle Lloyd and his wife Auntie Lottie live in Greenford and I stayed with them Thursday night and Sunday night. They are the cutest little couple ever and even though it was their first time meeting me they treated me like on of their own grandkids. We cuddled up on the couch and watched British soaps together and they even gave me my own room. My maternal grandmother's brother also lives in Greenford, not too far from Uncle Lloyd's house, and he was kind enough to take me over there to visit. Uncle Kenneth is suffering from Alzheimers disease but he heard I was in town and he remembered that I was coming to visit. That made he happy. His daughter Donna also knew I was visiting and she rushed over with her daughter Imani for a brief little family reunion.

My cousin Kathy, from my Dad's side, met me at St. Paul's Cathedral and we spent the whole day together. We had too much fun running around considering she was 7 months pregnant with her son at the time. We shopped in Oxford Circus, where I fell in love with the store River Island (the clothes are amazing and they're having a sale right now; sale + international shipping = regular price but so what! indulge!) and got extremely overwhelmed by the 5 story Top Shop on Oxford Street... I was literally in there for 2 hours and couldn't buy anything because there was too much fabulousness to choose from. Kathy was actually shocked by how in awe I was of the retail selection because apparently English people prefer to go to the states to shop. I strive for the day I can jump on a plane and go to London strictly for a shopping trip. Putting that on my bucket list mmmmmrightnow.

We also went to Brixton because I was dying to see where all the Jamaican people lived. True to its reputation, as soon as I stepped out of the train station I heard someone blasting Vybz Kartel from their car. Felt like I was in Flatbush! Brixton was super good to me and I was able to get my hair done and even got a plate of Saltfish and Fry Dumpling to take back to the hostel. Probably the best day ever.


The second most exciting part of these trips was being able to get around the cities on my own. Both Paris and London have FABULOUS subway systems that are easy to navigate and ran through the heart of the cities as well as the outskirts. Major plus is that you get service while under ground, so you can call your mate and let 'em know when your approaching the station instead of having them wait outside for ya. Paris metro was WAY more affordable than the tube but everything in England is grossly overpriced so that was expected. God Bless my Auntie Lottie who accidentally bought me a weekly tube pass because she thought I was staying in town a while longer. Though I was visiting with friends and family in both cities, I had ample opportunity to travel on my own. But the most random//risky independent travel experience I had was in Paris.

So as I said before, Yasmin and Yodalis were in school and my last day in Paris I had to take myself to the remaining tourist attractions I wanted to see. My Mom was adamant that I visit

her favorite place in the city, so I borrowed some maps and made my way to Sacré-Cœur. A beautiful church with a breath-taking view of the city, Sacré-Cœur began being built in 1875 and was opened in 1919. The name translates to Sacred Heart in English, and the church is in dedication to the Sacred Heart of Christ because the French believe he saved them in the Prussina War. The view is so beautiful because the church is 500 steps and several levels above the street, so the day you choose to visit, wear good shoes and have some water handy... or take the easy way out and ride the Funiculaire up the hill. I walked up, dodged crafty street vendors ("If you vote for Obama why you don't want to buy from me, my sister?" ... what does my vote have to do with the friendship bracelet you're weaving? Oh. Alright.), slipped once or twice and broke a sweat. By the time I made it to the top I had to catch my breath before I got to take in the sights. My camera was broken at this time and all I had was a little Kodak camera that I bought across the street from Notre-Dame. I sparingly took a shot or two of the view without me in it but then I needed someone to help me out. No sooner than I made the "I wonder who could help me out" face, did this little middle eastern man pop up and offer to take the picture for me. We started talking after the photo shoot and he told me his name was Mustafa, he was only in town for one more day and he too was sight seeing solo. He offered to go to the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower with me. Not wanting to be alone in the city, I said sure!

Mustafa is a pretty decent guy. 28 years old and originally from Algeria, he was studying finance at a school in Lyons. Though he came from humble beginnings, Mustafa speaks four languages - Arabic, French, English and a dialect exclusively spoken by his village at home. He was TOO happy to practice his English and knowledge of American culture with me. While we were walking to the Louvre he called a friend in Algeria just so I could tell her that he spoke English well. He listens to a lot of "classic" American music like The Beatles, Elvis, Phil Collins and he was disappointed when I told him I don't listen to those artists, "Don't all Americans LOVE them?" Strangely enough, in this era where it seems as if the world is angry with America, Mustafa confessed that his biggest dream in life is to move to the states. All day, our conversations were sprinkled with his underlying fire to get to America. "My last dying wish is to go to America. I would give my kidneys for a flight to the U.S. I would trade my grandmother just to see the Statue of Liberty." When we were walking he was literally mumbling under his breath "I want to go to America. I want to go to America." Over and over again.

Overall, he was good company but a few things stressed me out...

1. He could not afford to get into the Louvre. How do you venture out for a day of sight seeing and not have the money to get into the sites?! He ended up waiting outside for me and I went in to see the Mona Lisa by myself. She is ridiculously tiny in person and there were like 100 people crowded into the room trying to get a picture. I'll develop mine soon. While I was in there, I bumped into the same Morgan Students who I saw at Les Galleries Lafayettes. It felt so good to see people from my HBCU on the other side of the world, again!

2. When we left the Louvre, he could not afford to buy himself a 3euro crepe and I ended up buying him lunch. And then this man had the nerve to be trying to sweet talk me while we were eating. Sir, there is NOTHING cute about this. You're broke. And I'm too kind to let you starve. Case closed.

3. By the time we got to the Eiffel Tower, Mustafa must have lost all his God given sense. "Can you make me one kiss? I never kiss an American girl before!" o_O Excuse me? So you thought that you were my escort for the day and as payment for your company I should swap spit with you? Back up. And everyone knows the term is FRENCH kissing!! Why would you want to kiss an American girl in France instead of getting the genuine experience?! By now he had fallen in love and told me that when I become his wife he will call me his illness because when I am ill he will be ill and when I am well he will be well. Bit of a hard concept to grasp but that is the best explanation I can give you so bare with me.

But yeah... London and Paris in a nutshell.

Visual Vacation. The Saharra.

The mirrors.

The crew.

The [never ending] road.Money. Fuluus. المال

Simba.

Egypt's NTM.

Rawr.

Almost lost a finger.

Whoa.

On a diet, doin' donuts in the 6 speed.

Would you smoke these?

Reasons not to walk off into the night.

I wanted to leave footprints.

The set-up.
Before dinner.

Sweet Potato & Chocolate.

Breakfast.

Dismantling.

Bathrooms.Sami!

Mahmoud.

Whalid's youngest son.Kooshari.

Egyptian Excursion Pt. 3

I was able to sleep easier my second night at Arabian Nights. More than likely because I was exhausted after the ridiculously long day I had prior to going to bed. The good sleep was short lived though because we had to meet in the lobby for 7am to head out into the desert. I had a REALLY hard time deciding what to wear for that portion of the trip. The weather on Friday was weird because when the sun was out it would be like 80 degrees and then once a cloud came it would be in the high 50's out of nowhere. How do you dress for that kind of temperature drop?! I opted to wear leggings for comfort on the long drive, my all purpose denim shirt with a white tee, my green leather and orange scarf. Oh! And Let's not forget my loafers, great for walking... on streets, not desert sands. (Typically, I wouldn't describe an outfit but all these pieces become important later on.) I could have bypassed all the effort I placed into the decision making process because my entire room brought our suit cases along. Not that we didn't trust Arabian Night's locks, but just as a safety precaution because we knew we weren't coming back until the next evening and in the event we got delayed on the ride back, we wanted to have the option of heading straight to the airport.

Our ride arrived promptly at 7:15am and after another delicious serving of the exact same breakfast as the day before, we head out into the unknown with an adorable driver who spoke absolutely no English and only listened to traditional middle eastern music. There were SO many mirrors inside that vehicle it was ridiculous; his rearview had a rearview. I tried to ask him what he needed all the mirrors for but all I got was a chuckle and the volume turned up on me. Everyone was still pooped from the festivities of the night before so there was more sleeping than talking going on in the van. One of the girls, Anne, was EXTREMELY hungover from the night before. To this day, Tone and I still can't figure out what the heck she was drinking on to get wasted like she was. They served alcohol on the dinner cruise but it was insanely expensive and neither of us can remember her having a ton. Either way, Anne was green in the face when we pulled off and about thirty minutes into the ride we had to gesture to the driver to please stop so she could hurl. It was pretty gross but at least we were able to stop quickly enough for her to make it outside.

About twenty minutes after we got back on the road, we pulled over at a rest stop for a stretch. I guess you have to be a frequent desert caravan driver to know that this sole gray shack was a rest stop because there wasn't even one sign in Arabic or English that let us know it was coming up. Some of the girls went to the bathroom and said that they basically peed into an inclined hole that drained into a dirt troth behind the building. How nice! I decided I could hold it until further notice.

We got back on the road and I had my ghetto iPod with me so I put my head phones in so I could rock out. Now my ghetto iPod is really my American cell phone and it's music player application. I refer to it as the ghetto iPod because I do possess a real iPod, I just choose not to use it often because it's not updated with new music. I refuse to update it because my best friend since freshman year in high school put the majority of the music on there during our junior year (this was when I didn't know how to use iTunes) and sentimentally I can't bring myself to delete the songs he put on there for me. It's like a musical keepsake. Anywho, my soundtrack for the ride into the desert was 'ignant' to say the least, lol. I listened to so much Young Money it was ridiculous. I have about 700 songs on my phone but between No Ceilings and We Are Young Money, I could not get away from the camp. There was a lot of Trey Songz, Wale and some Reggae in the mix as well. I felt like I should have been listening to something more meaningful and relative to the epic-ness of the trip but whatever! I was cracking up the whole time at Weezy's nonsense lyrics.

The ride into the desert was soooooooooooo+thirty more o's LONG. The 5 hour ride seemed like a never ending journey and that has everything to do with the lack of scenery. Sand. Mountain. Sand. Road. Sky. Clouds. Repeat. I was in and out of sleep for about three hours and every time I woke up I couldn't tell that we made any progress. Not to mention the lack of signs! I was convinced that the driver either had no real destination and he was taking us to whatever camp site popped up first OR he was connected to the desert on a level of consciousness that required him to use his sense for direction. No maps, no directions, no GPS turn-by-turn directions. Just a can full of college kids putting all their trust into a driver. In between sleeping and jammin, I was praying that we'd make it home safely. Though the scenery was monotonous, it was strikingly beautiful. Looking at endless road and infinite sky, trying to figure out where they'll meet makes you feel like anything is possible.

So finally, after I exhausted my playlists, slept in all the different positions one can manage in the front seat, and played several rounds of the cloud bursting game we finally arrive at a real live desert Oasis. Our driver dropped us off to a new set of drivers who proceeded to take our Passports to make copies "Just in case." Of what? They wouldn't tell us, but that's fine. While waiting for the copy process to take place, a few of us went to a convenience store to grab something to munch on. There was the cutest little boy standing on the steps and he reminded me so much of my little cousin Nasir that I decided to give him some pounds to buy a snack. He said "Shukran," sweetly and I went back across the street with the group. As I'm standing around chatting, I see the little boy dart up the street and around the corner with his snacks and then come back no more than 1minute later empty-handed. I thought it was strange but maybe he was THAT hungry and he felt uncomfortable eating in front of people. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Especially children.

Instead of walking back over to the store, the lil cutie patootie walks over to the group and is looking at all of us with this big toothy grin. I asked him what his name is and he answered in broken English "I am Mohammed." That was the most he could say but I appreciated our slight bit of communication. I gave him my bag of chips and he gladly accepted them and began munching away. By the time he finished we had loaded back up into a new car, this time it was a jeep and it was me Gillian, Lauren, Sami (the official guide) and Mahmoud (the driver). The rest of the group drove in another jeep driven by a guy named "Whalid." Mahmoud and Sami had stepped out to handle some business and lil Mohammed made his way over to the window and began repeating the word "Fuluus" over and over again. Having yet to incorporate more than Shukran and La Shukran into my Arabic vocabulary, I had no idea what the child was talking about and I called Mahmoud over to translate for me. I should have let well enough alone because lil Mohammed almost got a beating from Mahmoud when I told him what he said. Apparently, "Fuluus" means money and lil Mohammed was trying to ask me for more of it. Mahmoud was visibly upset and apologized to me but I told him to take it easy on the little hustler.

After that we stopped by Mahmoud's house for him to grab his bag and then we stopped at a butcher to pick up some food for dinner. We got freshly killed and plucked chickens to go. I asked Sami how we were gonna turn the chickens into dinner in the desert but he told me not to worry myself with the details and just enjoy the ride. We drove three hours deeper into the Sahara and crossed through the Black and White deserts. Would you believe me if i told you we had to pay 40 pounds to get into the desert? It's only $8 but honestly, a toll booth in the middle of nowhere? I feel like Mahmoud could have driven around the booth and bypassed all the fees but I don't really know how the security works out there and the toll men did have really big guns.

In the black desert, we got out of the car and got to climb a mountain. I couldn't go up as high as I would have liked to because of my loafers. Couldn't get a grip and didn't wanna fall down and ruin the trip for everyone. I guess i could have taken my shoes off but I knew i wouldn't see a shower for 24 hours. Blah. I stopped half way. Some of the other group members made it all the way to the top and took pictures. Kudos to them and they're good footwear.

In the White desert, i climbed a smaller mountain and got all up in the rocks to take pictures. Tone took an uber awesome shot of him on the edge of the mountain wrapped in his traditional scarf. He looked like a grown up real life version of Simba standing on pride rock. I tried to be a big girl and walk down this mountain by myself but I defnitely slipped and had it not been for Tone and Kam I would have tumbled all the way down with my gripless shoes.

Then we went to the dunes and they were SO AMAZING. I've seen them on calendars and posters but in real life, nothing short of breath taking. What was also breathtaking was when I tried to get out of the car to go take a picture, Gillian slammed my fingers in the car door and I screamed at the top of my lungs. Sami came to my rescue and said "I thought your leg got caught in the wheel or something! For this, we don't have to turn back." I smiled through my tears and managed to stop crying long enough to take a group picture. Afterwards, we drove down into the dunes at top speed and then did donuts until our tires got stuck in the sand and we had to dig each other out. Fun. Reckless foreign fun.

Sami finally instructed Mahmoud to pull over and we set up our camp site. Along the way we picked up another set of campers in a third jeep and the drivers parked the jeeps into an open square formation to create a little fort for us. They laid blankets and pillows down in the middle and set up two camp fires. One for cooking and one for warmth. While they were setting up the camp, everyone ventured off to use the bathroom before it got too dark. Being the genius that I am, stole a roll of toilet paper from the hostel just in case there wasn't any in the desert. As I suspected, there was none and my toilet paper came in handy but I decided I was only gonna do Number 1's until I got back to the city because I didn't want to run out of paper and be walking around all squishy and smelly for the rest of the trip.

So after I get back from my bathroom run, this group of girlfriends that I came out with asked me if they could borrow my toilet paper and I said sure no problem! I'm not gonna hold out on the homies! I gave these girls the benefit of the doubt and assumed that they would know to ration off the toilet paper sensibly seeing as how it wasn't theirs. I feel like any respectable person would have known to do that in such an extreme situation. Needless to say, the girls get back from behind their rock all giggly and I asked "Hey, wheres my toilet paper?" and Blair walks over and whispers "I'm really sorry Tracy, but we finished it. We did number 2 and I mean, its four of us. Ya know?" Sooooo because all of you had to relieve your bowels I'm supposed to just take the L and carry on with no tissue for my behind? Oh iight. I was mad but it's not like I could send her to the corner store to buy me a new roll. Psh.

ANYWAYS!

The meal I ate in the desert was hands down the most delicious meal I ate the entire time I was abroad. The drivers had to secretly be world class chefs because to throw down like that in the middle of nowhere has to be a learned skill. We knelt at a make-shift table and ate a two course meal of lentil soup, and roasted chicken with rice. Scrum-diddly-umptious.

As the sky darkened and the air got cooler, I started to realize that my little outfit was not going to be enough to keep me warm for the night. We huddled around the fire for warmth and talked and sang for hours. I specifically remember two things:

1. Tone, Kam and I had a long conversation about whether or not he would still live in his old neighborhood after he becomes famous. He said he's leaving and not looking back and I called him a sell out. I told him I'd try my hardest to still live in New York City if it was suitable to my career.
2. Sami the tour guide was IN LOVE with Tone and I. He wanted to know everything about our "family" and would make little jokes about us. The best was this song he was singing in Arabic about Sweet Potato's and Chocolate. He started singing it in English and pointing at Tone and me. It was cute. We felt special.

Some of the group members were brave enough to walk away from the fire to get a better look at the stars but not me. The darkness that surrounded us was the darkest of darknesses I had even seen in my life and I am scared of the dark! Not to mention, I saw some desert foxes bravely trotting into our camp. I really wasn't interested in whatever other creatures were lurking about. I will say that it felt like the stars were insanely close to us. There were MILLIONS of them and they may as well have been sitting on top of my nose. Being out there was truly a humbling experience. No one in my family knew where I was or what I was doing, I had no phone, I barely knew the people who brought me there and I only had one true friend with me. All I could do was have faith in the goodness of the world and put my irrational fears of being left in the desert to fend for myself aside.

As the fire died down, Tone, Kam and I decided to sleep in the truck on top of all the luggage because sleeping outside was too cold and too daunting for our liking. I don't know why we assumed it would be warmer in the truck but we could not have been more wrong! It was FREEEEEEEEZING. Like white air coming out of your mouth, teeth chattering, can't feel your fingers or toes cold. All the homeless people in NYC who opt to sleep outside rather than head to a shelter in the winter are CRAZY. And for Abraham to not warn us that it was going to be winter like conditions was not fair at all! But whatever. We made it through the night, watched the sunrise, ate a delicious breakfast and began our journey back to Cairo.

First we had to get back to the Oasis to meet with our driver. He was running late so Whalid, one of the drivers, brought us to his house and served us tea (of course) and cookies. When the driver finally arrived, he took us plus the Dutchmen to the other side of town and then went to go hang out at the police station with his friends. This would have been totally fine if we didn't have a flight to catch at 10:20pm and a 5 hour drive ahead of us. 30mins later, 10 of which I was incessantly honking the horn, Elvis (he had the Elvis curl in his hair!) angrily gets back in the car and starts driving like a bat out of hell.

We make it back to Cairo by 6 but instead of taking us directly to the hostel Elvis ever so kindly drops us beneath the freeway and has someone translate to us that he can't take us further and he will be finding us some cabs. Red flag. Why can't you take us directly to where we need to go? And Why would you leave us in this very non touristy neighborhood looking like American deers in headlights? Whatever. So 30min later, the translator guy, who was kind enough to stay with us finds us some cabs because Elvis never came back. We tell the cabbies where we need to go and again, instead of taking us to the hostel, they drop us like 10 blocks away, PAST the market and tel us to get out. Okay. Fine. Us and all of our luggage will get out and walk this ridiculous journey with all of our luggage. That is fine. Imagine me and my zebra luggage pulling through the streets on a Sunday night. That SCREAMS tourist.

Finally we get back to the hostel and explain the story to Ahmad and Abraham and in the middle of our story guess who shows up? All the flat leavers, Elvis and the entire cab crew! These men tried to lie and say we told them to pull over and leave us on the side of the road and then they tried to ask us for money! Sike. My all inclusive desert trip was paid for on Friday night and you didn't even take me where I needed to go. Buzz off! Ahmad and Abraham had a rough discussion with the men in Arabic and when it was over they all apologized to us and Elvis ended up having to pay for the taxi's since he was responsible for our return. We had to head out to the airport a little while after that and Abraham had Ahmad buy us Kooshari (a traditional dish of rice, corn, beef, and veggies) as a goodbye/make-up for the horrible drivers dinner. The ride to the airport took an hour longer than we expected and Ahmad hopped out 20minutes in, claiming he wasn't dressed appropriately for the occasion. That really messed us up because our driver spoke no English and he dropped us at the wrong gate.

The next hour was like a scene out of a comedy novice travelers. Believing we were indeed at the right gate, we all sat down to eat our Kooshari leisurely. Once we figure out where at the wrong terminal, we jump on the shuttle that takes us to the "right one" but that took a total of 45minutes to happen and when we got there it ended up being wrong anyway. I can't accurately describe the amount of foolishness we went through but trust we literally ran all up and through the airport. Down narrow hallways, up shady stairwells, through security checkpoints, argued with guards and when we finally made it to the gate at 10:01pm they told us that the flight was delayed and hadn't even started boarding yet. We looked ridiculous sitting in the lounge all red faced, sweaty and out of breath but at least we made it.

I don't know if you realized this but there were no showers in the desert and I hadn't bathed since 6am Saturday morning. As soon as we made it back to Cyprus I turned on the water heater and took the LONGEST most AMAZING shower of my life.

I'll do a Visual Vacation entry so you can see the fabulosity of this portion of my journey.

Let's Go Back.

Forgive me readers. Seriously.

I have no good reason for not writing since April but please believe that I have not forgotten my promise to fill you in on all of my travels. The stories are still at the top of my brain and I promise they will be just as juicy as if I had told them when they first happened.

Things are a bit out of order right now but my trip itinerary goes as follows:
1. Cairo, Egypt
2. Paris, France
3. London, England
4. Athens, Greece
5. Rome, Florence, and Venice, Italy
6. Barcelona, Spain

My next few entries will be in trip order so please bare with me. I appreciate your continued support and readership and I hope you enjoy the new entries as much as you did the old ones. Thank you so much!

Homesick.

I left Brooklyn on January 21st and on that day I didn't cry (despite all the tears streaming down my Auntie Debbie's face as I waited on the line for security). I'm a pretty tough cookie when it comes to saying goodbye's and unless there is an EXTREME circumstance I can do a pretty good job of holding myself together emotionally. Since I've been in Cyprus I've held my self together very well. I Skype my family all the time, Mommy and Daddy call/text me every day, I tweet my sister and my cousins religiously, and Facebook does a great job of maintaining all other relationships. So to be honest, I'm not homesick for lack of contact with the ones I love; I'm homesick due to lack of resources.

Top 5 Reasons Tracy is Ready to Travel BACK to Brooklyn
5. There is no TV in my apartment.
You can send me a link to every possible on-line TV episode streaming site but it won't make a difference. You know why? BECAUSE TV'S DON'T BUFFER!

4. There is no train down the block from my apartment.
To be fair, there are no trains in Cyprus because the island is too small but the bus system is so unreliable that I am forced to complain. I don't live in the center of the city. I live 90minutes away on foot, 30min away on the bus and 15minutes away by car. Taxi's are too expensive here and considering I like to go downtown on my own, it's ridiculous that I would have to spend $30 (22 euro) round trip. The bus is only $5 (2.60 euro) round trip but the last bus to Engomi leaves downtown at 5:30. That means if I want to have dinner some place cute I have to factor in the price of a taxi after my already over priced meal or walk off all my calories and be hungry by the time I get to my apartment.

3. Kori & Kayden (They are a resource of unconditional love)
The pictures say it all!

2.Turkey Bacon.
Everything in Cyprus is made with pork. Seriously. There are bacon bits in the french fries. The chicken wings are fried in bacon grease. I went to the supermarket and asked for turkey bacon and the butcher handed me a turkey leg. I looked for turkey bacon on my own and I found bacon made from every part of the pig possible (Back, Side, Thigh etc.). I have become so depressed that I have stopped purchasing eggs. What is a scrambled egg without the taste of turkey bacon to accompany it? My mom told me to order some offline but I'm not sure how that works and more than likely it won't get here until my last week. Blah. I wonder if absence can make the taste buds grow fonder...

And the number one reason Tracy is Ready to hop on a flight back to JFK?!

1. I NEED TO GET MY HAIR DONE BY A REAL STYLIST.
My first week in Cyprus I was in I was in Carrefour (the supermarket) on my way up the inclinator and I looked over my shoulder and had to do a double take. Seriously, I thought I had seen a mirage. It was a black woman with a Doobie! Living in Cyprus you realize that it’s not uncommon to see other brown faces on a daily basis but they’re usually African and most times I am uninspired by their hair maintenance. I knew by the bump of this woman’s ends that not only did she know where to get her hair done but she was American too. Not wanting to be a creep and run up on her, I stayed in the toiletry section nearby the inclinator in hopes that she would make her way upstairs so I could find out where to tame my mane at.

By God and all his good graces she came up and as soon as she got close I popped out of the aisle and asked her if she spoke English. I mean I felt like I knew she was from the states but I had to be sure. Considering how diverse Cyprus is, she could have been French or something! But as I suspected she was indeed an American and as soon as she heard my English she hit me with the “Gurl, where you from?” I introduced myself, told her I was here studying from the states and explained that I noticed that she had nicely maintained Black hair and I was hoping she could recommend a salon. She told me her name was Joyce, she’s from Philly and she was in Cyprus with her fiancée who played for one of the Cypriot basketball teams and their two daughters. Though she confessed to having done her own hair she recommended a hair salon to me and gave me her contact information so that we could stay in touch as well.

We were both so excited to have a Black female friend we didn’t know what to do with ourselves! Seriously, we spent like 30mins choppin it up in the supermarket. Unfortunately, due to drama with the team, Joyce and her family relocated to Israel two days after we met. But this is about my hair, not about my five-minute friendship.

Since Joyce's reccomendation, I have visited Nike's salon about four times. Her shop is all the way downtown (15euros away in a cab if the traffic is bad) and I just figured out how to take the bus there. I take it back, I have not mastered taking the bus to Nike's because the last time I went what was supposed to be a 1hr journey took 3hrs because I rode the wrong bus for 7minutes and had to walk back to the bus depot. That mishap was the straw that broke the camel's back for this semester. Anyways, my hair comes out alright when Nike does it. I've allowed her to perm it once and she set's it on tight rollers so it comes out extremely curly. I prefer having looser curls that I can pin-curl to make tighter if I feel like it but she doesn't own big rollers. Nike is affordable (She permed me for 21 euro and a roller set is 14euro) but her lack of customer service turned me off.

I planned to continue allowing her to do my hair but the day it took me three hours to get there she had the nerve to tell me she was too busy to wash my hair out properly and left my hair dirty so she could sew a weave into a Cypriot girl's head. Perfect way to lose a customer! The only way I'll ever go back before I leave is to see if she has some plantain to fry (Yes, I've bought plantain's from her salon before). The salon serves as a supermarket and a beauty supply, as well. Literally, you can buy bleaching cream, Guinness Stout beer, brown sugar and weave all while getting a deep conditioner.



I got my hair done at Toni & Guy out here in between one of my Nike visits but that wasn't magical either. They blow dried my hair and then flat ironed it bone straight. It looked nice but they don't use any black hair products so my hair felt and looked dry. For 25 euro I need my hair to feel LUXURIOUS when I leave. Not have me scurrying home to rub some grease into my scalp.

Lately, I've been doing my own hair. I'm typing this entry with fresh chignons on my dome. Last week I flat ironed it and wore it pin curled until I demolished it at the gym. I need a trim BADLY. I'm shedding like crazy and I know that when I get home I have no choice but to chop off what little bit of hair remains on my head. I'm okay with that though, short hair is in and it'll be easy to maintain because I live in the middle of my two favorite places to get my hair done. Thirty more days and I will have the hands of a real stylist in my head, luxuriating my tresses and styling them to perfection.

I Can't Wait.

Mind The Gap!

As if the slogan for the tubes (trains) in London isn't hilarious enough already, I saw these in between Minding The Gaps on my trip. The ads are a part of Mooncups campaign to promote an alternative to tampons. Personally, I'm not for it but the ads do a great job of getting your attention and give tube riders something to giggle about along their journeys.

More information on Mooncups
Want to share YOUR favorite nickname? ---> Love Your Vagina

My Favorite!

Visual Vacation

200 sheckles = $53.59

The walk to the beach

Me and my 35 sheckle Watermelon Most of the Group
Perfect Day to Sail

Jenny, Me and Grape Seed

Me NOT DancingA segment of The BattleMy broken camera "/

Our Beach Buddies

They're silly.The Roomies
Big Ol' Swiss Driving License

The Desert

Fact: I will go to the Highest Point. Yes, Mt. Everest.

Breakfast: Fish Sticks Happy Meal

Sea Monsters.

Floating in the Dead Sea
Church of Mary Magdalene
The View from Mount Olives

Mary's Tomb (We drove past)Coolest Highway Sign. Right after the Brooklyn signs.
Traditional Architecture
The Church of Nativity

The Cross of Jerusalem
4th Century Mosaics
The Grotto [In the Greek Orthodox Church]
The Manger
Where Mary Gave Birth
The Call Of David [In the Catholic Church]
St. George Slaying the Dragon
The Drumline
Last Night on the Beach
Shout Out to Maddy's Camera for Most of this Entry

FIN.