tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36086996434929858752024-03-19T05:36:57.062-04:00my last name is now cordaromelissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.comBlogger202125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-85473733643856694852012-09-11T08:45:00.000-04:002012-09-11T08:45:06.709-04:00my last name is now cordaroYep. I changed it. Back in May. I've been thinking about changing it for over a year now and it was supposed to be the best five year anniversary present ever for my husband but I suck at keeping secrets so he found out a few days early. <br />
<br />
I'm still not sure exactly why I changed it but it seemed the right thing to do. I finally felt ready. Something I wanted to give to my husband. One of these days we'll start a family, which played a role in my decision as well. Joey is already joking that now he's finally off probation.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I think this blog is going to stay on hiatus indefinitely, but in the meantime, just thought you'd like to know.melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-89315300823797226842012-08-01T12:40:00.004-04:002012-08-01T12:42:53.554-04:00the dhow safariAfter enjoying one last breakfast on the rooftop of Ibo Island Lodge, we repacked our backpacks and walked to the dock. Joey jumped from the dock to the upper deck of the dhow; L, O and our bags followed. I took the long route. While our crew made the final preparations for our journey, we watched more and more people and supplies stuffed onto the tiny, local water taxi on the other side of the dock. It's hard to comprehend how that boat still managed to float.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9WKsA_kVe3M/UBGJuXpZgXI/AAAAAAAAKkE/YE_AUGrf_kk/s1600/398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9WKsA_kVe3M/UBGJuXpZgXI/AAAAAAAAKkE/YE_AUGrf_kk/s640/398.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loading the dhow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0bOeFLSZvs/UBK-Un50i0I/AAAAAAAALfI/vBQSgGy45hs/s1600/407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0bOeFLSZvs/UBK-Un50i0I/AAAAAAAALfI/vBQSgGy45hs/s640/407.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wBtMtlMXU_M/UBKlIuObvpI/AAAAAAAALCM/2dXPWBTi0uY/s1600/415+%2528L%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wBtMtlMXU_M/UBKlIuObvpI/AAAAAAAALCM/2dXPWBTi0uY/s640/415+%2528L%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another amazing photo by L.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Soon we were on our way, and we all stripped down to our swimsuits to catch some rays. L and I took pictures while Joey attempted to fish. A few hours later we arrived at our first island campsite, Ulumbwa, and anchored in the bay under the watchful eye of the local children. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60H8tjK-pZU/UBGKTYmLxZI/AAAAAAAAKmU/RO_oU1h8ioo/s1600/424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60H8tjK-pZU/UBGKTYmLxZI/AAAAAAAAKmU/RO_oU1h8ioo/s640/424.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard at work with that fishing pole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rfxoAwxppuY/UBK-sjRq-CI/AAAAAAAALgY/BaYQhN1hc10/s1600/435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rfxoAwxppuY/UBK-sjRq-CI/AAAAAAAALgY/BaYQhN1hc10/s640/435.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
After a quick pit stop in the bush, our guide, Harris, helped us into kayaks and we paddled behind him into the mangrove forest. Directly. Into the forest. Or more specifically, one mangrove tree. Joey and I paddled out of the branches and right into a sandbank. A patient Harris navigated us out of the bay and up the mouth of a river, and once we hit our stride the experience was thrilling - even before we saw the four fish that arced in unison over the water. Unfortunately, our circuitous route meant fighting the same current that had propelled us out; and while my husband attempted to play bumper-kayaks with L&O, ours was the kayak that got turned around and pushed into the sea. I'd like to credit all of my hours at the gym as the reason we made it back to shore.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cg53b3wF_ZY/UBGKw2xI_vI/AAAAAAAAKnc/SwbrD-QF8i4/s1600/449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cg53b3wF_ZY/UBGKw2xI_vI/AAAAAAAAKnc/SwbrD-QF8i4/s640/449.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ArFdavZzEDA/UBK_bAw1sXI/AAAAAAAALh4/GXaTmdVOP3k/s1600/452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ArFdavZzEDA/UBK_bAw1sXI/AAAAAAAALh4/GXaTmdVOP3k/s640/452.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_4vgFNTwVbU/UBGLHtZQ1zI/AAAAAAAAKoU/VITI2hpzzPk/s1600/460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_4vgFNTwVbU/UBGLHtZQ1zI/AAAAAAAAKoU/VITI2hpzzPk/s640/460.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Meanwhile our crew had set up our tents and the bush toilet - the "shower" was in process. I took the roll of toilet paper from our tent and made the walk of shame across camp, not realizing just how shameful until I made acquaintance with the small metal flower pot over a deep hole and had to use half a coconut shell to throw sand over my pee. And I thought the bush toilet on our safari was bad. Although slightly traumatized, it was only a few minutes until we had cocktails, so with some hand sanitizer and rum punch, I was placated until the next round.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zVT7AI3gcmU/UBGLSyCsNvI/AAAAAAAAKos/41AqR02YGkI/s1600/629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zVT7AI3gcmU/UBGLSyCsNvI/AAAAAAAAKos/41AqR02YGkI/s640/629.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-za-sSHxXhh4/UBGLPJLLSPI/AAAAAAAAKok/u2BNa7tTCeA/s1600/628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-za-sSHxXhh4/UBGLPJLLSPI/AAAAAAAAKok/u2BNa7tTCeA/s640/628.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toilet on the left. Assembling the shower on the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qJV3I59MZTo/UBGLXvvqdGI/AAAAAAAAKo8/G7px2tOX59Q/s1600/631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qJV3I59MZTo/UBGLXvvqdGI/AAAAAAAAKo8/G7px2tOX59Q/s640/631.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EloLjZ_Kxjg/UBGMDPZKnwI/AAAAAAAAKqs/ampiYtKgbrQ/s1600/660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EloLjZ_Kxjg/UBGMDPZKnwI/AAAAAAAAKqs/ampiYtKgbrQ/s400/660.JPG" width="266" /></a>That night we enjoyed another beautiful sunset as we settled around a bonfire and took in the amazing spectacle in the sky. The display of stars from this pitch-black island in the middle of nowhere was completely breathtaking. We feasted on fresh grilled shrimp before retiring to our tents for bed. As Joey and I wiggled into our sleeping bags on our stretchers, we whispered goodnight and relaxed into the utter silence but for the wind in the trees, the lapping of the waves on the sand, and... Lady Gaga?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our wilderness reverie was abruptly broken by the pulsating beats of techno music. The local disco across the bay was apparently hosting its "Last Night Before Ramadan Party" and lucky for us the wind blew in just the right direction to treat us to the entire Top 40. The low tide revealed a sandy strait between the islands, and our tents sat right along the path to the disco. The Mozambican revelers danced late into the night and could have competed with any bar close I ever witnessed in Iowa City for the amount of noise they made getting home.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We had to be up early the next morning to catch the same rising tide, and once we were on our boat, hot breakfast in hand, the wakeful night was forgotten. The wind was cold but the water was warm, so we spent the morning exploring new reefs with our snorkels. We sailed to our second campsite, Mogundula Island, where we'd spend the next three days, and settled into a routine of sailing and snorkeling in the mornings and kayaking and hiking the island in the afternoons. Each evening our waiter, Combo, would pour each of us a large pot of freshly boiled water into the bag that was our shower, and then we'd watch the sun go down behind our dhow. Good food, fires, wine and laughs filled our nights like the stars in the sky, and the crash of the water on the rocks below our tents lulled us to sleep.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A9w3i0XVcUA/UBGMY9OlhMI/AAAAAAAAKsM/TTNS4tffDTQ/s1600/683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A9w3i0XVcUA/UBGMY9OlhMI/AAAAAAAAKsM/TTNS4tffDTQ/s640/683.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EQRp_WseFRQ/UBKmMzkghFI/AAAAAAAALDk/Rmr0uXnM3SA/s1600/691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EQRp_WseFRQ/UBKmMzkghFI/AAAAAAAALDk/Rmr0uXnM3SA/s640/691.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vi1pO45KBi4/UBGkuxdswkI/AAAAAAAAKwI/zopSzm9i6s0/s1600/746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vi1pO45KBi4/UBGkuxdswkI/AAAAAAAAKwI/zopSzm9i6s0/s640/746.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OCoiti01syk/UBLAXtGYoEI/AAAAAAAALkA/0tSiIBhf2sY/s1600/769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OCoiti01syk/UBLAXtGYoEI/AAAAAAAALkA/0tSiIBhf2sY/s640/769.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MgAzstrCg6A/UBGmiDsfWbI/AAAAAAAAK0A/RHMA_knktA0/s1600/800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MgAzstrCg6A/UBGmiDsfWbI/AAAAAAAAK0A/RHMA_knktA0/s640/800.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Snorkeling never really got easier, so our last full day L and I stayed on the boat and accidentally scandalized several boats of local fisherman who happened to be passing by. At one point we watched while at least 24 muscular black men clad in tighty-whities sang and danced and held up their catch - one guy literally girated and stretched out over the mast in a "come-hither" pose.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7tnk-T3yoVw/UBKh3UwRNDI/AAAAAAAAK5U/QywbWmF536w/s1600/993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7tnk-T3yoVw/UBKh3UwRNDI/AAAAAAAAK5U/QywbWmF536w/s640/993.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next morning we donned our backpacks and climbed onto the boat one last time. After a short sail to the mainland, we were met by a driver in the tiny fishing village where we docked. We said goodbye to Harris and Combo and the rest of the crew (and the large crowd that had gathered to see the white people), and drove off for Pemba. Three hours later we arrived at the Pemba airport, where we settled in for another three hours before our flight to Maputo. From Maputo we flew to Johannesburg, where our overnight layover meant time for a real shower, flush toilet, king-size bed and steak dinner.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bsgqTkYMSgc/UBLDYG-uPCI/AAAAAAAALsg/JQu8znvNmmg/s1600/1509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bsgqTkYMSgc/UBLDYG-uPCI/AAAAAAAALsg/JQu8znvNmmg/s640/1509.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mainland village of Mucojo where we transferred from dhow to car.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fcNMRjChS3E/UBLDh57kCVI/AAAAAAAALs4/umS9XqxvykA/s1600/1512+%2528L%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fcNMRjChS3E/UBLDh57kCVI/AAAAAAAALs4/umS9XqxvykA/s640/1512+%2528L%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RCgu0X9db9w/UBLD4KOA8NI/AAAAAAAALto/3DaqGpsjdJw/s1600/1525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RCgu0X9db9w/UBLD4KOA8NI/AAAAAAAALto/3DaqGpsjdJw/s640/1525.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Pemba</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KYPHwXaXCEI/UBLD6XEnQbI/AAAAAAAALtw/ZOwg4ZceR-8/s1600/1526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KYPHwXaXCEI/UBLD6XEnQbI/AAAAAAAALtw/ZOwg4ZceR-8/s640/1526.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Pemba airport</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HT61QPOh3Bs/UBLD_rPUYEI/AAAAAAAALt4/esw4iYtx1vI/s1600/1527+%2528L%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HT61QPOh3Bs/UBLD_rPUYEI/AAAAAAAALt4/esw4iYtx1vI/s640/1527+%2528L%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating the last night of a great trip in Johannesburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
A few hours later we were back at the Johannesburg airport and on our way to Lagos. Our flights back to Nigeria were mostly uneventful, unless you count the outdoor waiting area in the rain at the domestic terminal in Lagos (it's under construction, so why wouldn't a tent suffice?). We finally made it back to Abuja, tired, tanned and relaxed despite the 12 hour transit through Nigeria. It was an incredible vacation - Joey said it was his favorite we've ever taken. I'm not sure I'd go that far - maybe it the toilet or the shower or the half-hour it took me to finally brush my hair when I got home - but it was truly an amazing experience nonetheless. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HLYtxgtD8W0/UBLEbnAlSpI/AAAAAAAALug/aicjzPdgk5w/s1600/1532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HLYtxgtD8W0/UBLEbnAlSpI/AAAAAAAALug/aicjzPdgk5w/s640/1532.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Didn't believe me? Click <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/100586084762366858227/Mozambique?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCNnTo7mV-JDcWw&feat=directlink" target="_blank">here</a> for the rest of my pictures from our trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-21278107991152908442012-07-30T18:01:00.003-04:002012-07-30T18:01:44.925-04:00the sandbankWe landed on Ibo Island on a Sunday, and stayed at the romantic lodge Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights. Tuesday morning we got a preview of our Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, when we woke up with the sun and sleepily walked to the docks. The four of us piled into a tiny, wooden rowboat with an African gondoleer at the helm. With his long, skinny stick of an oar he paddled us out to the sister of the dhow we'd call our own the next four days (ours was being prepared for our journey), and we shakily climbed aboard. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The morning was chilly and we huddled under towels while we watched the crew raise the sail. Then we awkwardly climbed the narrow ladder to the small, upper deck for a 45-minute sail in the crisp air to a sandbank in the middle of the sea. Nervously we watched what seemed like huge waves and ominous other boats (the lodge manager had regaled three of us with tales of pirates over cocktails the night before; he terrified O). Soon enough the crew called for us to go ashore, so ever the lady that I am, I hiked up my dress and got my feet wet. Joey, L&O followed, and we explored the small mound of sand we'd inhabit for the next few hours.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NT72a26Z92A/UBGH3zu-_JI/AAAAAAAAKd8/4CdgzCRwkPc/s1600/270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NT72a26Z92A/UBGH3zu-_JI/AAAAAAAAKd8/4CdgzCRwkPc/s640/270.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E0gen0GSRIY/UBK6oW9poiI/AAAAAAAALWw/oRA91z4Ci24/s1600/278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jYylUTSVZEA/UBGIIUUJOyI/AAAAAAAAKes/no0Ijpu3g-A/s1600/279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jYylUTSVZEA/UBGIIUUJOyI/AAAAAAAAKes/no0Ijpu3g-A/s640/279.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zlZsqKNgBYA/UBK7K8YiFWI/AAAAAAAALYg/Mgapu1Gy-bw/s1600/311+%2528L%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zlZsqKNgBYA/UBK7K8YiFWI/AAAAAAAALYg/Mgapu1Gy-bw/s640/311+%2528L%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish I could take credit for this amazing picture of the sandbank, but I have to give it to L.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Even though it was still quite cold, one of our crew said it was time to go snorkeling, so on went the flippers and masks, at least for three of us. I'm not exactly the most coordinated person, and snorkeling is high on the list of things that freak me out and can't really do (escalators, specifically descending ones, are also on that list). I've tried snorkeling three other times - and only one of those have I even managed to kind of do it (I blame one of those instances on alcohol. Booze cruises should never be accompanied by snorkeling. Or kayaking. That was really bad.) It'd been about four years since my last attempt, so I decided to give it another try.<br />
<br />
While L and O were off enjoying the reefs, Joey was teaching me how to breathe and trying not to laugh hysterically. Maybe it was because I was going off about Darth Vader with the tube still in my mouth. Eventually, though, I figured it out - until it was time for the flippers. How do people swim in those things? I felt certain I was going to drown immediately with those giant fins on, so I left them on the bank. Finally we were ready to snorkel, and off I swam. I made it to the first reef and I panicked. Although heavily breathing, I seemed to be managing, but what would happen if I accidentally sucked water? The coral seemed so close I was sucking in my stomach - I couldn't put my legs down and all I could see was coral. Where were Joey and L and O? By then I was completely flailing in every direction.<br />
<br />
Thankfully Joey saw my panic attack, and swam up and held my hand. Instantly I felt better, and with white knuckles I squeezed his hand as I continued to flail about, albeit less, in the water. But hand-in-hand we explored the reef and the amazing colors of the ocean. We saw a bright red, puffy starfish, a kingfish, and innumerable shimmering schools. Although the breathing apparatus still scared me, with Joey holding my hand I almost could feel the peace of the underwater world. Unfortunately my "swimming" did not bring anyone else peace, as L and O had to come up several times to contain their hysterical laughter at the sight of my flailing body.<br />
<br />
After we'd snorkeled for a while, it was time for breakfast. The other members of the crew had erected a table under a tent on the sandbank, we warmed up with hot coffee before we were served fresh scrambled eggs, breakfast sausage and toast. Then we stretched out on our towels in the sun and let the food settle before another round of snorkeling. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L2ZhNP_1k9c/UBK7_z2wdDI/AAAAAAAALZw/qh2aI6tAIko/s1600/329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L2ZhNP_1k9c/UBK7_z2wdDI/AAAAAAAALZw/qh2aI6tAIko/s640/329.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o9fL90_KdG4/UBK8gsK5PAI/AAAAAAAALag/IK9UJQWBoVs/s1600/339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o9fL90_KdG4/UBK8gsK5PAI/AAAAAAAALag/IK9UJQWBoVs/s640/339.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
The rising tide soon swallowed up more and more of our shore - it was time to get back on the dhow and head back to Ibo Island. On the upper deck once more, it was time for a beer and tanning. I looked over at Joey and he wore one of the biggest smiles I'd seen on him in a long, long time. The sunshine, the bright blue ocean, the wind in our face had made for a pretty hard-to-beat morning. An hour later we returned to the dock in high spirits. We all breathed a sigh of relief in anticipation of the next four days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xjJF9Ksj_F8/UBK8qmZ8HSI/AAAAAAAALbA/vN9Q3HAWMEY/s1600/346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xjJF9Ksj_F8/UBK8qmZ8HSI/AAAAAAAALbA/vN9Q3HAWMEY/s640/346.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-89063607916040211022012-07-27T13:13:00.001-04:002012-07-27T13:13:29.617-04:00ibo island<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Thank God I took a Xanax before our flight on the "light aircraft" to the "grass airstrip." The tragic plane crash in Lagos last month made for four very anxiety-ridden flights to Pemba; the Xanax made the final leg in the tiny propeller-plane over the gorgeous Quirimbas archipelago breathtaking - in a good way.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AIy07yIaY4w/UBKi8H0O8pI/AAAAAAAAK9E/W2DjOiA6TKw/s1600/32+%2528L%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AIy07yIaY4w/UBKi8H0O8pI/AAAAAAAAK9E/W2DjOiA6TKw/s640/32+%2528L%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NqjK82D960M/UBKpdho5vdI/AAAAAAAALKo/1vgx2IdOzqg/s1600/38.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NqjK82D960M/UBKpdho5vdI/AAAAAAAALKo/1vgx2IdOzqg/s640/38.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dwsXKhEizO0/UBKpfaxt9aI/AAAAAAAALKw/CXnE5Mgpzms/s1600/39.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dwsXKhEizO0/UBKpfaxt9aI/AAAAAAAALKw/CXnE5Mgpzms/s640/39.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gWltt5ve-lA/UBKi_LSxvGI/AAAAAAAAK9U/uh0sTLOXJas/s1600/40+%2528L%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gWltt5ve-lA/UBKi_LSxvGI/AAAAAAAAK9U/uh0sTLOXJas/s640/40+%2528L%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Twenty minutes later on wobbly knees I climbed out of the plane at the Ibo Island "airport." We were met by our guide for the week, Harris, and loaded onto a golf cart for a short drive along the sandy roads to the Ibo Island Lodge. We arrived at the stately, white-washed hundred year-old mansion and were greeted with sparkling wine and cold towels as we checked in. Harris escorted us through the columns, past green grassy courtyards shaded by palm trees and lined with bright pink bouganvillea to our room where a huge, mahogany, canopy bed stood under the high ceilings. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DJNrQcWGpkg/UBKpmQJBU_I/AAAAAAAALLA/n0J8di7kS5k/s1600/44.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DJNrQcWGpkg/UBKpmQJBU_I/AAAAAAAALLA/n0J8di7kS5k/s640/44.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxCFmwY2n6k/UBKqTASDp3I/AAAAAAAALMw/c-lDEAQ-k0o/s1600/66.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxCFmwY2n6k/UBKqTASDp3I/AAAAAAAALMw/c-lDEAQ-k0o/s640/66.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OnBv3YPbFt8/UBKqdhxgJ4I/AAAAAAAALNI/i_sFK-EnL9I/s1600/70.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OnBv3YPbFt8/UBKqdhxgJ4I/AAAAAAAALNI/i_sFK-EnL9I/s640/70.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">After much-needed showers, we wandered away from the lodge, taking advantage of the low tide and walking barefoot across the damp sand to the Indian Ocean. Dusk quickly approached, so we returned to the lodge and climbed to the patio on the roof to take in the first of seven sunsets.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5qxzR25isKs/UBKr0i_oWZI/AAAAAAAALOg/U7Jo_2zqxGM/s1600/88.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5qxzR25isKs/UBKr0i_oWZI/AAAAAAAALOg/U7Jo_2zqxGM/s640/88.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuRF7h_jNzI/UBKjwynzE_I/AAAAAAAAK_s/HgEVwP7iv_4/s1600/91.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuRF7h_jNzI/UBKjwynzE_I/AAAAAAAAK_s/HgEVwP7iv_4/s640/91.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-45NKEgJkZa4/UBGDPJYznCI/AAAAAAAAKRc/o1G1BwQ05PY/s1600/110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-45NKEgJkZa4/UBGDPJYznCI/AAAAAAAAKRc/o1G1BwQ05PY/s640/110.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">We spent the next two days wandering the ancient forts and ornate, empty shells of deserted colonial buildings, and the next two nights washing down fresh calamari and shrimp and crab and lobster with caprinhas and cold beer. We met village kids clammoring for photographs, </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">silversmiths and wood carvers selling their wares, and women wearing masks of white.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> We ended up on a long walk with two local teenagers who said they wanted to practice their English and but really wanted us to patronize their friend's restaurant (so we did). They took us all around the island - through the fisherman's village, the stone village and the crab village past a live auction to the old cemetery - we even saw some monkeys along the way! </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DbZVYnW8Qu4/UBK5I9yhUSI/AAAAAAAALU4/ugYPXbeI-oI/s1600/247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DbZVYnW8Qu4/UBK5I9yhUSI/AAAAAAAALU4/ugYPXbeI-oI/s640/247.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o0keEfogusU/UBGFQ2KwMtI/AAAAAAAAKWE/3Od2lkLcPWM/s1600/169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o0keEfogusU/UBGFQ2KwMtI/AAAAAAAAKWE/3Od2lkLcPWM/s640/169.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iZvUsA_HUlM/UBGGunuqrtI/AAAAAAAAKZ8/IaQVl7WS-CU/s1600/215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iZvUsA_HUlM/UBGGunuqrtI/AAAAAAAAKZ8/IaQVl7WS-CU/s640/215.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ra3PTaKYkOU/UBKwMoCZrdI/AAAAAAAALRw/Woxl92Rn7Oc/s1600/156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ra3PTaKYkOU/UBKwMoCZrdI/AAAAAAAALRw/Woxl92Rn7Oc/s640/156.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GT8CA2otOys/UBK90KuotoI/AAAAAAAALdw/BZVFhK9j6i4/s1600/382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GT8CA2otOys/UBK90KuotoI/AAAAAAAALdw/BZVFhK9j6i4/s640/382.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">After three nights at the lodge we re-packed our bags and set out for the real adventure: 5 days of sailing the archipelago on an old Arabic dhow and camping on the deserted islands at night. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37LcnNnzOxA/UBK7G7g4LXI/AAAAAAAALYQ/vfhoBUN6Tbs/s1600/310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37LcnNnzOxA/UBK7G7g4LXI/AAAAAAAALYQ/vfhoBUN6Tbs/s640/310.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-86771642352307654552012-07-24T16:30:00.000-04:002012-07-24T16:30:55.597-04:008:46 sunday, july 15<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-finnyG6F4e0/UA8FR_MOCWI/AAAAAAAAKQE/UIb-hHjIM4w/s1600/1134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-finnyG6F4e0/UA8FR_MOCWI/AAAAAAAAKQE/UIb-hHjIM4w/s320/1134.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely Abuja departure hall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We left our house at 1 pm Saturday for our 3:40 flight to Lagos; it left at 6:45. We spent the five hours in a room with metal chairs, white walls lined with black grease at head level and an intense smell of feet. No shops, no restaurants - just one small cooler with water for sale and a dirty bathroom. <br />
<br />
After a nail-biting flight to Lagos, we were escorted by bus from the domestic terminal to the international terminal -a half hour ride on bumpy roads in jammed traffic - the last ten minutes stuck behind a military vehicle with strobes instead of brake lights. By the time we'd finally checked in and made it through security, we'd been hassled for bribes by the airline attendant who met us at the domestic gate, the driver who took us between, the ticketing agent and two other random men. Since we hadn't eaten for 9 hours at this point, we tried to stop at the only restaurant in the international terminal, but they weren't cooking anymore so dinner consisted of Clif Bars and peanut M&Ms and Pringles purchased for way too much money at the "Duty Free" shop. <br />
<br />
We waited under the low, kelly-green aluminum ceiling in the dark, dusty, dirty and dingy airport while our flight time came and went - a que formed but no one seemed to be going anywhere. After a muffled announcement over the broken intercom, we thought we'd been moved to a different gate. All of a sudden three hundred people bolted full-speed ahead as they realized the gate change. L&O and I were caught in the melee and ran with the crowd, backpacks bouncing and flip-flops clacking; Joey jumped the rail of the moving walkway and ran backward to reach us. <br />
<br />
Once we reached the line at the new gate, our bags were searched and we were informed the airline has a strict policy against any liquids in hand baggage. After a brief argument and an attempt to retain our beef jerky ("Why don't you leave a taste for me?"), we finally boarded the plane, liquids in tact, to learn the Nigerian Aviation Authority had declared our seats in the exit row unsafe on a full flight. Fifteen minutes of O flirting with the stewardess later, she flipped our seat cushions were to the right side and we buckled in for our flight. <br />
<br />
We managed to make up some of the delay in the air to Johannesburg, giving us enough time this morning for a hot breakfast. Now we just got on an unmarked white plane named the Model T en route to Maputo, Mozambique, where we'll clear the second set of customs and immigration, reboard the reassuringly named plane and fly to Pemba. From there we have one more flight from Pemba, on a "light aircraft" to a "grass airstrip." We'll have traveled for almost 25 hours and taken five flights by the time we reach our destination - this is the most complicated itinerary we've ever taken. I sure hope it's worth it all when we get to Ibo Island. I'm pretty sure Joey and L&O are plotting to kill me if it's not...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vboPrnmwQSE/UA8FC1_GIQI/AAAAAAAAKP8/6joZeFRg2CM/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vboPrnmwQSE/UA8FC1_GIQI/AAAAAAAAKP8/6joZeFRg2CM/s640/003.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-89057018888002128352012-07-23T05:14:00.000-04:002012-07-23T05:14:00.265-04:00do you know joe cordaro?Our friend here recently got in a fender-bender (he's okay). Car accidents here are usually accompanied by a rushing of people to the car, and our friend's accident was no exception. He said at least twenty people materialized and surrounded his vehicle, banging on the windows and pulling on the handles. Then, all of a sudden, some random Nigerian knocked on the window and yelled, "Do you know Joe Cordaro?"<br />
<br />
Our friend answered that he did know Joe Cordaro, to which the Nigerian indignantly replied, "He would not be acting like this!"<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Joey can't think of whom would be involved in the post-crash riot, but our friend has already been enjoying himself quite a bit poking fun at Joey's newfound celebrity, sending texts like, "WWJD."</span><br />
<br />
You can't make this shit up...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-43468539464298550762012-07-22T04:08:00.000-04:002012-07-22T04:08:00.302-04:00hubrisYou may recall a few instances in which I used my husband as fodder for my blog. Okay, more often than not - thankfully he's a good sport. But two specific posts come to mind, each from when Joey attempted to use my rose pan to make my traditional lemon birthday cake. And so here I humbly submit photos of my recent effort at lemon cake. <div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r1DEczblGDM/UAEomYndkJI/AAAAAAAAKPg/NysnCbeL8VM/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r1DEczblGDM/UAEomYndkJI/AAAAAAAAKPg/NysnCbeL8VM/s640/002.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TdaBgd7zjv4/UAEopWRCMzI/AAAAAAAAKPo/_ANww8_tUKI/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TdaBgd7zjv4/UAEopWRCMzI/AAAAAAAAKPo/_ANww8_tUKI/s640/003.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white;">I like to call it, "When life gives you lemon cake." Joey prefers "karma cake."</span></div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-46849429195406403142012-07-21T09:18:00.000-04:002012-07-21T09:18:00.824-04:00amsterdamJoey and I had long layovers in Amsterdam on the way to and from Budapest, so we took advantage of the extra time by taking the train into the city. L&O had an earlier flight to Budapest, but joined us in Amsterdam the second time around. We mainly roamed since our layovers were so early in the morning, which was only unfortunate because it was so cold (and we were so unprepared)! I'd been to Amsterdam back in college, but it was the first visit for everyone else. Here's a few pictures from our wanderings, as well as a link to all of my pictures from the whole trip.<div>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tiCB-NeP7SU/T9dGNdPTboI/AAAAAAAAJhk/iLvNUobDN38/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tiCB-NeP7SU/T9dGNdPTboI/AAAAAAAAJhk/iLvNUobDN38/s640/006.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D7oyev9Fo_w/T9d6Tf-GcfI/AAAAAAAAKKM/qXLqr-NQt_U/s1600/650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D7oyev9Fo_w/T9d6Tf-GcfI/AAAAAAAAKKM/qXLqr-NQt_U/s640/650.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TK27adbuQ8s/T9d6f_dG-NI/AAAAAAAAKKs/j2o4lJAjaxM/s1600/654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TK27adbuQ8s/T9d6f_dG-NI/AAAAAAAAKKs/j2o4lJAjaxM/s640/654.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-veVvU_QGirI/T9d6q1aDQTI/AAAAAAAAKLE/gjUC-JYib3A/s1600/657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-veVvU_QGirI/T9d6q1aDQTI/AAAAAAAAKLE/gjUC-JYib3A/s640/657.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mg8-yUJghKo/T9d6wyj3bfI/AAAAAAAAKLU/dCaLjUycW7o/s1600/660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mg8-yUJghKo/T9d6wyj3bfI/AAAAAAAAKLU/dCaLjUycW7o/s640/660.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/100586084762366858227/Budapest?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCNeZksTG5df8swE&feat=directlink" target="_blank">here </a>for all the pictures from our trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-18717751129340975682012-07-20T09:18:00.000-04:002012-07-20T09:18:00.420-04:00easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_-7_nDX4HDc/T9d0mnr2SHI/AAAAAAAAJ9M/wwSu-xaO-TE/s1600/495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_-7_nDX4HDc/T9d0mnr2SHI/AAAAAAAAJ9M/wwSu-xaO-TE/s640/495.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
While in Budapest for the Easter weekend, we were able to attend Mass, which was an extra-special treat since we tend to avoid church services here. By the time we reached St. Stephen's Basilica it was absolutely packed, but having to stand the whole time didn't diminish its grandeur in the least. Surrounded by frescoes and marble and candelabras, with the scent of incense and candle wax permeating the cavernous space, we listened to a full choir sing the entire Messiah between the half-Hungarian, half-Latin led Mass - what an incredible and moving experience.<br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-19824540606384080762012-07-19T12:25:00.000-04:002012-07-19T12:25:00.575-04:00the making of a buda bellyAnother part we didn't expect to love as much as we did about Budapest was the food. Oh my God, the food! The Hungarians can <i>cook</i>. I don't think we ate a single thing during our four days in Budapest that wasn't to die for, and we ate all.day.long. By the end of the trip we were all so full and fat we didn't even want to eat any more but still couldn't stop eating. The food was that good.<br />
<br />
So first let's go back to those sausages we ate after the baths. Spicy, hot sausages, served with pickled cabbage, yellow mustard, and a huge slice of thick bread, washed down with cold beer that were so delicious I'm salivating over them right now. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mWg7SR5GN3E/T9deNHFlqnI/AAAAAAAAJqA/uqMyGam5T0U/s1600/169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mWg7SR5GN3E/T9deNHFlqnI/AAAAAAAAJqA/uqMyGam5T0U/s640/169.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Budapest is a street-food paradise. Food carts appeared everywhere we walked, and we made sure to taste everything we saw. After devouring the spicy sausages, we wandered through City Park, where we discovered warm salty pretzels and sweet mulled wine with notes of cinnamon and cloves. We took them to go, and traced our path back toward a well-known restaurant in town, Gundel, where we topped ourselves off with Dobos torte and a toasted walnut and chocolate crepe. On the walk back toward our hotel, we refueled with coffee in hopes of staving off the food comas that had already begun to overtake us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4JuK1nF5kDQ/T9dh__0DvCI/AAAAAAAAJrw/YNoH4YCwnX0/s1600/208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4JuK1nF5kDQ/T9dh__0DvCI/AAAAAAAAJrw/YNoH4YCwnX0/s640/208.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ffftZ1YSymQ/T9dkb9j4aNI/AAAAAAAAJtI/8MOeCw3ugx0/s1600/229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ffftZ1YSymQ/T9dkb9j4aNI/AAAAAAAAJtI/8MOeCw3ugx0/s640/229.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The effects of the coffee didn't last long; coupled with the gentle rain, the long walk between the hotel and the bath and back, and the utter relaxation from our bath, naps were necessary for all before we could continue our culinary adventure.<br />
<br />
Later that evening we met in the lobby of the beautiful hotel where we were staying, a local landmark - The New York Palace - and recommenced our foodie marathon with champagne cocktails for L and me and heartier appertifs for Joey and O. Then we took a cab to another recommendation from our friends: Comme Chez Soi.<br />
<br />
Wow. From the moment we opened the door we were treated like family with prosecco and treats from the chef. Then with a bottle of Hungarian red wine, we truly began our feast with sizzling goose liver served atop garlic mashed potatoes with a balsamic and apple reduction. Obviously Joey had been giddily looking forward to this dish ever since our friend heard we were going to Budapest; although I'm a fan of foie gras, I was admittedly a little nervous about this significantly larger organ.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SRcxIx7IgfM/T9drn1IGndI/AAAAAAAAJwo/FjbHBO3aGiw/s1600/278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SRcxIx7IgfM/T9drn1IGndI/AAAAAAAAJwo/FjbHBO3aGiw/s640/278.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
It tasted so good we considered making reservations there again the next night.<br />
<br />
After the goose liver, we gorged on juicy filet, roquefort-smothered chicken and traditional Hungarian stew. Then we suffered through dessert, for the chocolate cake was so decadent we couldn't bring ourselves not to finish it. Our host shared his homemade limoncello and Hungarian palinka and one of us (who shall remain unnamed) was so full she had to go to the bathroom to remove her control-top pantyhose so she could breathe. <span style="background-color: white;">A nightcap was in order, so we returned to the Cigar Bar at the New York Palace for our second round of drinks. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d3hu82ODGDE/T9dr3vo3fqI/AAAAAAAAJxA/f2p_exxVRWU/s1600/281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d3hu82ODGDE/T9dr3vo3fqI/AAAAAAAAJxA/f2p_exxVRWU/s640/281.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He is going to kill me for posting this picture. But if you look closely, you can see for whom this post was titled.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n1kw_MgjAbw/T9dsGiFBSMI/AAAAAAAAJxg/be7652mggR4/s1600/285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n1kw_MgjAbw/T9dsGiFBSMI/AAAAAAAAJxg/be7652mggR4/s640/285.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">The next morning only one of the four of us was hungry (guess), and so my fat husband had to wait until we could find the Great Market Hall before he could eat. We walked a roundabout way to get there, and so to placate a starving Joey, we all shared some pastries along the way. Then we entered one of the coolest markets I've ever seen, with three stories of shops selling everything from sausage and cheese to fruit and vegetables to dried peppers and garlic and pastries and bread. Ready-made Hungarian specialties lined the second floor, and we only regretted stuffing ourselves with an assortment from the main floor because we didn't have enough room for any food from upstairs.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rZz09FRbwBQ/T9dsp2yt6BI/AAAAAAAAJy4/CXhxNP63GBs/s1600/299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rZz09FRbwBQ/T9dsp2yt6BI/AAAAAAAAJy4/CXhxNP63GBs/s640/299.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a1Qs3tVeQzc/T9duMdHcZxI/AAAAAAAAJ0o/UrvtZxr2P_I/s1600/340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a1Qs3tVeQzc/T9duMdHcZxI/AAAAAAAAJ0o/UrvtZxr2P_I/s640/340.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so hungry I can't even stop to put my camera away before stuffing my cheeks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Later that afternoon we stumbled across a food festival (okay, it was probably an Easter market, but the party was all in my mouth) in Vorosmarty Square, where we devoured <span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Kürtőskalács, or grilled sweet bread with cinnamon and sugar; Langos, fried bread with sour cream and cheese; and some more spicy sausage (just to make sure). </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ynqWTv0CsoI/T9dy1YA6a2I/AAAAAAAAJ6A/-aVRbJE6FfU/s1600/436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ynqWTv0CsoI/T9dy1YA6a2I/AAAAAAAAJ6A/-aVRbJE6FfU/s640/436.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Langos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZCb4MDk7NR0/T9d0DL7ZhrI/AAAAAAAAJ8E/RWPAHcQ3lJE/s1600/476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZCb4MDk7NR0/T9d0DL7ZhrI/AAAAAAAAJ8E/RWPAHcQ3lJE/s640/476.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Kürtőskalács</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">The next morning we found another Easter market on the other side of the river, Buda, at the royal palace, and were sure to sample as much as possible. Struessel, cheese, palinka, marzipan liquor, a different kind of langos and of course we had to check out those spicy sausages one more time. Admittedly, Joey did eat something he didn't like, but considering it was blood sausage he should have known better.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ta1kIpQtU3E/T9d2IOjKsuI/AAAAAAAAKAE/niuBGBsuJCM/s1600/536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ta1kIpQtU3E/T9d2IOjKsuI/AAAAAAAAKAE/niuBGBsuJCM/s640/536.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5YRe4uol0s/T9d2Jk4yYnI/AAAAAAAAKAM/Gh-nsp3YzAY/s1600/537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5YRe4uol0s/T9d2Jk4yYnI/AAAAAAAAKAM/Gh-nsp3YzAY/s640/537.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kQWJtJuBShI/T9d2O7tTkdI/AAAAAAAAKAc/1DVD1bYz994/s1600/539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kQWJtJuBShI/T9d2O7tTkdI/AAAAAAAAKAc/1DVD1bYz994/s320/539.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Oh. Um. This doesn't taste like I'd hoped it'd taste."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6w40qCqq5o/T9d2SJc69YI/AAAAAAAAKAk/Vmr6K0J7PGY/s1600/541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6w40qCqq5o/T9d2SJc69YI/AAAAAAAAKAk/Vmr6K0J7PGY/s320/541.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfU5aWCCbKA/T9d2VmTvm8I/AAAAAAAAKAs/5wYq1CZkQwM/s1600/542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfU5aWCCbKA/T9d2VmTvm8I/AAAAAAAAKAs/5wYq1CZkQwM/s320/542.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hmm. How do I choke this down?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YzxPFKNwc-0/T9d2XP7PwaI/AAAAAAAAKA0/ZfA-MoOWtT0/s1600/543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YzxPFKNwc-0/T9d2XP7PwaI/AAAAAAAAKA0/ZfA-MoOWtT0/s320/543.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Must. Keep. Chewing."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ClHQf3SV8AM/T9d2apAtv1I/AAAAAAAAKA8/ojjdjZTNVJI/s1600/544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ClHQf3SV8AM/T9d2apAtv1I/AAAAAAAAKA8/ojjdjZTNVJI/s320/544.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Oh God."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tS09e3e5ffk/T9d2cFvV-oI/AAAAAAAAKBE/CQoCVO5C_Rc/s1600/545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tS09e3e5ffk/T9d2cFvV-oI/AAAAAAAAKBE/CQoCVO5C_Rc/s320/545.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q1I2wfdBa8o/T9d2erF0-qI/AAAAAAAAKBM/3pwFbhbc4EI/s1600/546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q1I2wfdBa8o/T9d2erF0-qI/AAAAAAAAKBM/3pwFbhbc4EI/s320/546.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Almost there..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DTVy9R5Cr_E/T9d2hsoe-PI/AAAAAAAAKBU/_ut0D7PY3Cw/s1600/547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DTVy9R5Cr_E/T9d2hsoe-PI/AAAAAAAAKBU/_ut0D7PY3Cw/s320/547.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Thank God. Where's my beer?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We also had sushi twice (a faux pas, I know, with so much wonderful Hungarian food, but don't forget from where we came) and the requisite Hard Rock cheeseburgers (can't be helped). <span style="background-color: white;">We did a lot of other wonderful things and saw a lot of beautiful places while we were in Budapest; obviously the city has so much more to offer than just its food, but my most powerful memories of Budapest will be mouthwatering ones.</span>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-44474524253589052612012-07-18T12:23:00.000-04:002012-07-18T12:23:00.295-04:00bathing in budapest<span style="background-color: white;">Joey and I didn't expect to love Budapest so much; who knew it was like Paris without all the tourists and at less than half the price?! We traveled to the gorgeous city with our friends, L&O, over the long Easter weekend (got to love having Good Friday and Easter Monday off), and had a fabulous time. Some friends who lived in Budapest before serving in Abuja highly recommended we partake in the baths that dot the city, which we found to be a fantastic idea, albeit not exactly straightforward. So here are some helpful instructions for visiting a public bath in Hungary. Based on my experience. So take from them what you will.</span><br />
<br />
Step 1: Pick a bath. In a city called, "The City of Spas," for its prime location over natural thermal springs, this was no easy feat. We eventually settled on Szechenyi (pronounced "say-chen-ee" - I think) Baths because of it's beautiful Neo-baroque architecture and status as the largest bath in Europe.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f5DjUr5-4wk/T9ddhhDPQUI/AAAAAAAAJow/bQaZT6BtdiM/s1600/150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f5DjUr5-4wk/T9ddhhDPQUI/AAAAAAAAJow/bQaZT6BtdiM/s640/150.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The exterior of the massive Szechenyi bath complex</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Step 2: Verify that when you want to go, you can. Certain baths designate certain days as "men only" and "women only," and we all wanted to bathe together (does that sound pervy or is it just me?), so we had to make sure we could (and maybe we all also wanted to avoid the awkward nakedness of the single-sex bathing days - yes, we have already established that I'm immature).<br />
<br />
Step 3: Pack a bag. We didn't think to pack flip flops or towels; while "towels" were available for rent (thin, white sheets), we really missed our flip-flops while walking barefoot across the tiles. (And in the sauna. Holy blisters on the bottom of your feet batman.) Also would highly recommend waterproof mascara.<br />
<br />
Step 4: Find the right entrance. Not to be confused with the hospital entrance. Yeah...<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1AUjzPPN2BA/T9ddxFB_I5I/AAAAAAAAJpI/bo1Y-R-E5g4/s1600/153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1AUjzPPN2BA/T9ddxFB_I5I/AAAAAAAAJpI/bo1Y-R-E5g4/s640/153.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What? This is a hospital? Ohmygodwearesosorryandleavingrightnowpleasedon'tjudgeusasidiotAmericans.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Step 5: Find your cabin, change into your bathing suit and lock your insecurities away with your clothes. Everybody is here to relax and nobody's concerned about anybody but themselves. All different shapes and sizes populate the baths, and the sooner you get over yourself the sooner you'll be relaxing in the pools. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-obwJ6uKcZ7M/T9deEN9GzpI/AAAAAAAAJpw/qj5qWB93vdo/s1600/162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-obwJ6uKcZ7M/T9deEN9GzpI/AAAAAAAAJpw/qj5qWB93vdo/s640/162.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cabins</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Step 6: Wander the huge complex, experimenting with hot and cold and wet and dry. Go into the piping hot sauna and dunk in the icey pool outside. Try the hot tub, the various steam rooms, and the medicinal pools. Get a massage, drink a beer (yes, they even sell beer), and relax. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JUgmF3GVY68/T9deBLRPYtI/AAAAAAAAJpo/-zAwU52qIc8/s1600/160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JUgmF3GVY68/T9deBLRPYtI/AAAAAAAAJpo/-zAwU52qIc8/s640/160.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This whole complex is baths. Behind the outdoor pools are more indoor pools, saunas, steam rooms and more pools.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Step 7: Contemplate moving to Budapest.<br />
<br />
Step 8: Clear your calendar for the rest of the day. Y<span style="background-color: white;">ou could also explore one of the several incredible museums nearby if you're super-human and have any energy left over.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> Two and a half hours of bathing later, we'd all unwound so much we were exhausted; our muscles so loose they hovered somewhere between numb and sore. We decided our best next course of action to be spicy sausages and beer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ej-VucH6ICs/T9deT2vPi8I/AAAAAAAAJqQ/6zxQS-2EHzE/s1600/175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ej-VucH6ICs/T9deT2vPi8I/AAAAAAAAJqQ/6zxQS-2EHzE/s640/175.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lXuJRkTOKFg/T9deJ9ls1GI/AAAAAAAAJp4/0wKhMZ3Cufw/s1600/163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lXuJRkTOKFg/T9deJ9ls1GI/AAAAAAAAJp4/0wKhMZ3Cufw/s640/163.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah-may-zing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-15914145400184923072012-07-17T12:13:00.000-04:002012-07-17T12:13:00.783-04:00a baby showerStill working backwards...<br />
<br />
Before we left for the States, Joey helped me host a baby shower for our dear friend, N. He<span style="background-color: white;"> did almost all of the cooking: mini frittatas, cheesy scones, deviled eggs, mini crab cakes, cucumber sandwiches, homemade pimento sandwiches, and corned beef and pickle sandwiches! He also helped me bake the red velvet cupcakes, lemon bars and cherry cheesecake brownies in under 4 hours (something that would take me alone over 6).</span><br />
<br />
N and her husband, B., recently welcomed their new, beautiful baby girl, whom we cannot wait to meet when they with her return to post in a few months. I had a lot of fun decorating the house, although I still haven't figured out how to get the double-stick tape off the 12-foot ceilings...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yzIqUP2vbnQ/T_2-yGOnB_I/AAAAAAAAKOc/onbtY-3lW9g/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yzIqUP2vbnQ/T_2-yGOnB_I/AAAAAAAAKOc/onbtY-3lW9g/s640/031.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8g2CMLw8Dp4/T_2-0MVpCjI/AAAAAAAAKOk/8DHAQbUSWNc/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8g2CMLw8Dp4/T_2-0MVpCjI/AAAAAAAAKOk/8DHAQbUSWNc/s640/034.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--RVZdBt80PI/T_2-8zFPrOI/AAAAAAAAKO0/24AXK7ztjl8/s1600/040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--RVZdBt80PI/T_2-8zFPrOI/AAAAAAAAKO0/24AXK7ztjl8/s640/040.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ucovTdStCc/T_2_CIU26KI/AAAAAAAAKPE/vmRSTkGoL3U/s1600/044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ucovTdStCc/T_2_CIU26KI/AAAAAAAAKPE/vmRSTkGoL3U/s640/044.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuvPccjO-Ro/T_2-3YoepyI/AAAAAAAAKOs/1lvNxA_O4So/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fuvPccjO-Ro/T_2-3YoepyI/AAAAAAAAKOs/1lvNxA_O4So/s640/036.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDsZP1oPx4k/T_2-_2TfkOI/AAAAAAAAKO8/01MBhYpScoM/s1600/041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDsZP1oPx4k/T_2-_2TfkOI/AAAAAAAAKO8/01MBhYpScoM/s640/041.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-80740076527398248382012-07-16T09:37:00.000-04:002012-07-16T09:37:00.648-04:00why you shouldn't put meat in your suitcaseWhen traveling back and forth from Nigeria, my friend L describes us as gypsies. We usually pack at least one large empty suitcase to fill with food from home; this time we checked a 70-lb suitcase full of food and three 25-lb boxes full of frozen meat. A few days before we left Des Moines, my mom took Joey and me to Costco (thanks for the access, Mom), and we spent almost $500 on beef, chicken sausages (you know the kind, with the gouda in the middle), and cheese. Then we spent the rest of the afternoon in an assembly line with Mom's vacuum sealer and the meat, before stuffing it in my parents' extra freezer. About an hour before we left for the airport and our long flight back to Abuja, Joey and my dad filled three large, cardboard and styrofoam coolers with our frozen bounty and we all crossed our fingers.<br />
<br />
Fast-forward 27 hours, and I'm standing in the midst of the chaos that is the luggage conveyor belt in the Abuja airport. As I watch the same bags go round and round the feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I wait for my checked bags sinks deeper and deeper - then one of the airport workers looks at me and tells me to talk to customer service (he probably singled me out by my shirt). Sure enough, our worst fears are confirmed: all of our luggage, including 75 lbs of now less-than-frozen meat, is still in Amsterdam, and the next flight to Abuja isn't for 2 days.<br />
<br />
Believe it or not, when our luggage arrived two days later, two of the three boxes were still cold. The third box was room temperature and you'd better believe we we're still eating the chicken sausages, cheese and bacon that were in there. My large, pink suitcase didn't fare quite so well - it was delivered with a huge crack in the hard shell - and Joey's didn't come at all (we got it the next day) - but we got our meat and 15,000 extra miles from Delta <span style="background-color: white;">- what more could you want? </span>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-40868600456934864132012-07-15T12:12:00.000-04:002012-07-15T12:12:00.747-04:00homeOur trip home was insane. We literally had engagements breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for two weeks, some days with coffee in between and drinks after (yes, I had an excel spreadsheet). Add to that shopping trips to Costco, Target, the grocery store and the mall; two graduations (my little sister graduated college and Joey's little brother graduated high school - congratulations Lizz and David!); daily yoga classes for me and visits to Spartan Strength to get his ass kicked for Joey; and shuffling one car between three people (my mother was gracious enough to share hers with us) and by the end of the trip we were both absolutely exhausted. Dare I say it - we almost looked forward to the long flight back to Abuja for an opportunity to do absolutely nothing for 24 hours (the upgraged business class tickets probably didn't hurt). Nonetheless, it was incredible to have two full weeks together in Des Moines, awesomely fattening and delicious to savor two weeks of meals we can't cook in Abuja; reconnecting with all of our friends and family, even if only for a few hours, food for the soul.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPNeSQVIlEo/T_3EAUBBm_I/AAAAAAAAKPQ/hBo8rdCGbbA/s1600/546432_459654827393661_1979353388_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPNeSQVIlEo/T_3EAUBBm_I/AAAAAAAAKPQ/hBo8rdCGbbA/s640/546432_459654827393661_1979353388_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Joey, his brothers and my sister-in-law at David's graduation. Sadly I didn't take any pictures at all this trip home, luckily my mother-in-law got one!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-70483471018758536932012-07-14T09:33:00.000-04:002012-07-14T09:33:00.623-04:00congratulations, bill and janice!Back in May we headed to the US for a wedding, a graduation and a whole lot of eating in between. First we stopped in St. Paul, Minnesota, where Joey's friend from college (I claim him as my friend sometimes too), Bill, married his lovely bride, Janice. We were honored to be a part of their special day. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6aRBIGyq_oo/T8idnLIXdFI/AAAAAAAAJe8/WBxcPZD2DIw/s1600/059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6aRBIGyq_oo/T8idnLIXdFI/AAAAAAAAJe8/WBxcPZD2DIw/s640/059.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2EiZ_GWGqZs/T8ifJke5OkI/AAAAAAAAJgc/-kWMrJ8MQiY/s1600/102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2EiZ_GWGqZs/T8ifJke5OkI/AAAAAAAAJgc/-kWMrJ8MQiY/s640/102.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dBh04Kxlveo/T8ifZURp_9I/AAAAAAAAJgk/IWBhVOZKZ3Q/s1600/104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dBh04Kxlveo/T8ifZURp_9I/AAAAAAAAJgk/IWBhVOZKZ3Q/s640/104.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WNnylgifqNU/T_2osIjhyzI/AAAAAAAAKOQ/Nyr8dRxqLnE/s1600/106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WNnylgifqNU/T_2osIjhyzI/AAAAAAAAKOQ/Nyr8dRxqLnE/s640/106.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The whole weekend was really lovely - we were granted to perfect weather while Joey took care of groomsman duties, including buying a new suit and having it tailored in two days, and I took care of myself, with hot yoga classes at Corepower Yoga, early-morning runs - alone! - and a significant amount of time at the Aveda spa. We also got to eat Juicy Lucy's (two burger patties with melted cheese oozing from the middle), sushi, and a decadent brunch at Bill's mom's the morning after the wedding. Then we were off to the airport for a quick flight to Des Moines.</div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-86589496195956101662012-07-13T12:11:00.000-04:002012-07-13T12:11:00.497-04:00fourth of july<span style="background-color: white;"> In photos:</span><br />
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rntBalLZagI/T_2d_3kti0I/AAAAAAAAKNk/pxSqf5GHv3w/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rntBalLZagI/T_2d_3kti0I/AAAAAAAAKNk/pxSqf5GHv3w/s640/012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unfortunately I didn't get my camera out until it started to rain (in case you were worried about my past history with cameras and rain, rest assured - I bought a waterproof one).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lw7MOrpVT_4/T_2f1l3pzpI/AAAAAAAAKN0/KmNnsjoEPMM/s1600/008.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lw7MOrpVT_4/T_2f1l3pzpI/AAAAAAAAKN0/KmNnsjoEPMM/s640/008.1.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CNLybkNgB5Y/T_2dxhXgC2I/AAAAAAAAKM8/pZir7i36Kbk/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CNLybkNgB5Y/T_2dxhXgC2I/AAAAAAAAKM8/pZir7i36Kbk/s640/007.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6pCHLJDF6Bw/T_2d9PgMvpI/AAAAAAAAKNc/SrMVzs3YtQ0/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6pCHLJDF6Bw/T_2d9PgMvpI/AAAAAAAAKNc/SrMVzs3YtQ0/s640/011.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We don't get a lot of opportunities to get dressed up and go out in Abuja, so I really enjoyed the chance to wear my new dress and bright lipstick. Joey even matched his tie to my dress. Aren't we cute?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iXhUK2T669g/T_2gVCEOIAI/AAAAAAAAKN8/-iR_yoIoHPU/s1600/010.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iXhUK2T669g/T_2gVCEOIAI/AAAAAAAAKN8/-iR_yoIoHPU/s640/010.1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-69111980678109550122012-07-12T12:12:00.000-04:002012-07-12T12:12:00.614-04:00a note on med clearancesRemember <a href="http://missisoda.blogspot.com/2010/06/tpi-reports.html" target="_blank">this post</a>?<br />
<br />
I do. I remember how stressed we both were that I'd get Class 2 Medical Clearance and Joey'd be posted somewhere I couldn't go. How we fought to convince the doctor that I was cured of my depression and how relieved we were when I got my Class 1 Clearance.<br />
<br />
What I wish I'd known then that I do now -<br />
<br />
1. Even though I told the psychiatrist evaluating my mental health that I'd learned how to manage my depression with running and yoga, she did not pass that information on to Joey's CDO (career development officer). While I appreciate the respect of my privacy (and HIPAA), we were posted somewhere impossible to run long distances (and never by myself) or follow a regular yoga practice because his CDO didn't have all the information. While we discussed with his CDO our desire to have children while at our first post, the CDO didn't know the only anti-malarial safe for pregnancy exacerbates depression and that the medical officer I spoke to upon receipt of our posting strongly advised me to wait to get pregnant until we left Abuja.<br />
<br />
2. Just because you don't feel depressed in Des Moines or Washington, DC, does not mean you won't feel depressed in Abuja, Nigeria. And the stressors that you faced in DC and managed with running and yoga will be exponentially compounded by hardship when you leave the U.S. The people evaluating medical clearances take this into account and if you have to convince them you're ok, you should consider "worldwide availability" and if you'll really be okay no matter where you go. <br />
<br />
If you already have low-level anxiety and depression, imagine how you might feel after an explosion at a place you've shopped many times (<a href="http://saharareporters.com/news-page/exploion-rocks-abuja-shopping-center">http://saharareporters.com/news-page/exploion-rocks-abuja-shopping-center</a>), or an explosion outside a new bar you were so excited to discover had Miller Light (<a href="http://www.thenationonlineng.net/2011/index.php/news-update/51337-explosion-rocks-abuja-nightclub.html">http://www.thenationonlineng.net/2011/index.php/news-update/51337-explosion-rocks-abuja-nightclub.html</a>)<span style="background-color: white;">, or an explosion near your friend's house (</span><a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/04/26/us-nigeria-bomb-idUSBRE83P0NR20120426" style="background-color: white;">http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/04/26/us-nigeria-bomb-idUSBRE83P0NR20120426</a><span style="background-color: white;">), or a siege during a layover (</span><a href="http://af.reuters.com/article/topNews/idAFJOE80T00P20120130">http://af.reuters.com/article/topNews/idAFJOE80T00P20120130</a>) of which you can see the fire from the airplane,<span style="background-color: white;"> or a bomb in a church on Christmas Day (</span><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2078450/Bombs-kill-32-Catholic-churches-Christmas-Day-mass-series-explosions-rock-Nigeria.html" style="background-color: white;">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2078450/Bombs-kill-32-Catholic-churches-Christmas-Day-mass-series-explosions-rock-Nigeria.html</a><span style="background-color: white;">), or a bomb near the Embassy (</span><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-14677957" style="background-color: white;">http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-14677957</a><span style="background-color: white;">), or an explosion at a market the night after you've eaten dinner there (</span><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12099176" style="background-color: white;">http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12099176</a><span style="background-color: white;">). It takes going to a crowded supermarket from routine to utterly terrifying. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">3. An officer's posting is based on the medical clearances of all of his family members, not just the officer's. We recently learned that despite what we'd heard otherwise, the department does not direct (*just a reminder - this is not official*) officers whose family members have lower medical clearances to places where those family members cannot accompany the officer (remember, AIP (Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan) assignments are never directed) for medical reasons (think about it - they can't - it would be discriminatory and illegal and probably against many federal EEO and ADA statutes).</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
Thankfully the new nurse practitioner here is really great and has been a tremendous help to me ever since my near-panic attack in the grocery store last week. Not to mention we only have a little more than 20 weeks <span style="background-color: white;">at post, and I'll be out of the country for over half of them. My longest remaining stretch in Nigeria is only four weeks, and it's not til November. I can handle that, especially after almost four weeks of finding my zen in Thailand in October and with the bright light at the end of the tunnel on December 1. As my friend, K., told me when I first got to Abuja, "If you can handle this place, you can handle anything." </span><br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-34710883307985921152012-07-11T09:09:00.000-04:002012-07-11T09:09:06.653-04:00so proud of my hubbyI can't help it - a girl's gotta brag. I'm married to an incredible man. Not only is he an amazing husband who is patient beyond measure, supportive, dedicated, loving, loyal, giving, kind, funny, smart <i>and</i> a great cook, Joey is also an amazing GSO. Earlier this year he received a Superior Honor Award for his work in Abuja, but this morning he received even greater recognition as runner-up for GSO of the Year, second only to an officer in Kabul, Afghanistan (not in any way diminishing the work of the hundreds of GSOs all over the world). <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've personally witnessed how diligently, tenaciously and tirelessly Joey's worked here in Abuja, and it's nice to know some other people noticed too. (Even if his CDO (career development officer) didn't. When she denied his request to extend in Abuja she told him, "we are confident any other first-tour officer will be able to do the same." How confident are you now? Way to make your employees feel valued. Okay maybe my juvenile retort isn't necessary but I still remember how disheartened he was by her response.) So anyway, I'm just damn proud of him. Abuja may be lucky to have Joey on their side for two years, but I'm even luckier - I get him the rest of my life.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Okay now you have permission to gag just a little.</div>
</div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-26913356610563505272012-07-10T17:00:00.000-04:002012-07-10T17:00:08.423-04:00i think i'll work backwardIt's been a while so I'll start with what's new and work my way back...<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I started working again. At my old, old job. My second contract fell through, despite all the assurances otherwise from that boss, so after three months of sitting at home alone all day with nothing to do, the quickly diminishing quality of my mental health demanded that I finally get a job. Luckily the employee association (Abuja job number 1) was willing to take me back, so although the work is primarily bookkeeping and pays me in a week what I used to make in a day, at least I get some human interaction during the day. My mood has improved markedly already. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Having any job proceeds is also an improvement. Obviously I've already spent my first week's paycheck, but I'd like to think that I used it to make the an investment in my future. I've been thinking about doing this for the last three years, and since on a whole I'm utterly miserable here anyway, it seemed like a better use of my time than sitting around moping: yoga teacher training for three weeks in October. In Thailand. I can't wait.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Besides that amazing personal experience for me to look forward to, Joey and I are both excited for our upcoming vacation in Mozambique with our friends L&O on an island-hopping safari, and a romantic trip to Victoria Falls for our five-year anniversary. I'm also excited to report a trip back to Des Moines in August to spend more time with my family, since the last visit in May was such a whirlwind it felt like we were in and out in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately all these trips during the last few months of Joey's tour mean we'll be spending a lot of time apart, but he's been so busy with work and I've been so damn depressed we both know it's the best thing for us and our marriage right now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And before we know it, it will be December 1 and we will be done, done, done with this horrible place and onto our next adventure. What that will be still remains to be seen, but as long as we're together we'll make it work.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-43847091020059113462012-06-13T11:56:00.001-04:002012-06-13T11:56:16.757-04:00i have a very serious problemI've been spending a lot more time at home lately, and with that, a lot more time with M. As awkward as it is to just hang out while she cleans my house, I know her employment with us provides her with what is considered to be a very good job as well as a place to live, and I don't have to clean toilets or deal with Max, so it's a win-win. But lately I've encountered a problem, and I have no idea how to deal with it.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
M. smells.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Some days she smells so bad I can't even be in the same room as her. When those days coincide with the days she folds my laundry I cringe. Sometimes when we come home from vacation, when M. is gracious enough to stay in the house with the dogs, the upholstery on the furniture reeks for weeks. Usually I throw the cushion and pillow covers in the washer, but that doesn't help remove the stench from the backs and arms of the furniture that can't be washed, and Febreeze only goes so far. Yesterday she smelled so bad she left a trail of B.O. wafting behind her and today it reeks as if she still hasn't showered. Lately I've found myself feeling hostile toward her because she smells so bad when really I'm the only one to blame until I tell her that she stinks. But how do you tell someone they smell without hurting their feelings?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm not usually one to go out of my way to avoid hurting people's feelings. I'm pretty blunt and mostly tell it like it is, but in this case I just feel so uncomfortable. I actually like M. I just want her to magically start showering before work and putting on deodorant and a clean shirt. Is that too much to ask? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So instead, I've been nagging my husband. People here are very blunt with each other, and I know many Nigerians would just come straight out and say, "M, you stink. Go bathe." Joey has told me to do the same. He's also come up with great ideas like explaining to her that Americans are very sensitive about how we smell and giving her some deodorant to use before work. I just don't know why <i>he</i> can't tell her that. It's not like he's busy with anything else. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm know I'm not the only one who has a hard time telling people I like about something awkward. Take, for instance, my 100% granola phase when I wore organic deodorant. I'd like to think that since I still showered at least twice a day and wore clean clothes that I didn't smell quite so bad, but I'm pretty sure I didn't smell good - it took months before anybody was willing to tell me. I certainly appreciated it when someone was finally honest with me, so why is it so hard for me to do the same favor for M.?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-56395889505336808922012-04-30T14:51:00.000-04:002012-04-30T14:51:15.802-04:00batsThe bats are back. Last year about this time we experienced the same nightly migration of the creepy things over our house; sometimes they'd even dip into the pool for a sip (yuck). This year we have an added bonus: they've taken up their evening residence in the trees in our compound.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I can't even begin to describe the chirping of thousands of bats that is so loud I can hear it through my window from inside my house, but it's unnerving enough that I am now terrified to take the dogs out at night. I wish I could take a picture of all them in the trees, but it's dark and they're dark and I'm not really willing to play with my tripod and camera outside while bats are swooping around. Shudder.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Seriously, how do you get a bat colony out of your trees? Joey and I both got a series of rabies shots before we came; the dogs are up-to-date on their shots too. I know bats aren't malevolent, but I just can't help but worry that with so many of those gross animals right there and at least three bathroom trips outside a night, we don't really have the best odds.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-63078343581814117732012-04-27T04:35:00.003-04:002012-04-27T04:35:47.494-04:00just a noteM. is getting married in a few months. She took the afternoon off today so she could go file for some of the wedding paperwork. Among the forms she has to file? "Separation of Spinsterhood."<br />
<br />
Oh, Naija.<br />
<br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-70089186781570964812012-04-26T06:39:00.002-04:002012-04-26T10:21:18.664-04:00birthdaysOur miniature schnauzer, George, turned six yesterday. Poor guy got more than he bargained for on his birthday:<br />
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CHTHSjo7SJc/T5kj7CkMibI/AAAAAAAAJeA/G6yyApXaBSc/s1600/29+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CHTHSjo7SJc/T5kj7CkMibI/AAAAAAAAJeA/G6yyApXaBSc/s640/29+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think he has a skin infection, because he's been scratching like there's no tomorrow. He also likes to chew on his nails, so his very sharp nails have just torn apart all the skin on both his flanks. I'm going to try a vinegar rinse in a few days, but I want the open wounds to heal first, hence his fancy new outfit (which he loves, by the way).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sadly, vet care here is abysmal, so George is going to have to rely on my internet research to ease his itchiness. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Speaking of birthdays, I celebrated my 28th about two weeks ago, and it was a much better birthday than the <a href="http://missisoda.blogspot.com/2011_04_12_archive.html" target="_blank">year before</a>. M gave me a coffee mug, O. made me a really sweet card and my good friend, Lauren, humbled me with a shout-out on her <a href="http://www.haspassportwilltravel.com/" target="_blank">blog</a>. Not only did I get the undivided attention of my husband all night, our friends Lena and Omar and Brian and Nadine joined us for my birthday tradition, lemon cake (as baked by Joey - who also had an easier time than <a href="http://missisoda.blogspot.com/2011_04_14_archive.html" target="_blank">last year</a> with the cake), and prosecco. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9NSBBbd8_Ow/T5kjwv9qXeI/AAAAAAAAJdw/2Fl0f2Br1Sg/s1600/28+%252810%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9NSBBbd8_Ow/T5kjwv9qXeI/AAAAAAAAJdw/2Fl0f2Br1Sg/s640/28+%252810%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jidk6Ts9g7g/T5kkC8BciWI/AAAAAAAAJeQ/gePY_CUeAH0/s1600/30+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jidk6Ts9g7g/T5kkC8BciWI/AAAAAAAAJeQ/gePY_CUeAH0/s640/30+%25285%2529.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DgRStWqmXDI/T5kj-uOTYUI/AAAAAAAAJeI/utUrqxJKlHo/s1600/30+%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DgRStWqmXDI/T5kj-uOTYUI/AAAAAAAAJeI/utUrqxJKlHo/s640/30+%25284%2529.JPG" width="425" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rWfxS05GuBw/T5kj2hzK2mI/AAAAAAAAJd4/7SzgGjVjHUg/s1600/28+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rWfxS05GuBw/T5kj2hzK2mI/AAAAAAAAJd4/7SzgGjVjHUg/s640/28+%252812%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's my birthday, and I'll wear my comfy African pajama pants that make my ass look huge if I want to.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-35616743908699717302012-04-24T09:16:00.001-04:002012-04-24T09:16:25.321-04:00staycation day 30I am still unemployed. My contract has been in flux for the last five weeks and I believe I'm bordering somewhere between crazy sad and crazy mad at least 85% of the time. So my options are 1: stay home and entertain myself here all day or 2: go back to the <strike>fish bowl </strike> embassy, suck it up and take a job that pays me less than I made in college because it actually requires less thought than my job in college. Clearly, I am enthralled by both options. <br />
<br />
At the beginning of my so-called staycation, I felt very productive and used the time that I thought would be temporary to my advantage. Now that the only end in sight to the boredom of option #1 is the boredom of option #2, my motivation has decreased significantly and goals achieved in a day read more like "shave legs" or "wash hair." Yesterday I accomplished half a goal when I shaved one leg. The hot water ran out before I could shave the other, and all women know shaving your legs with goosebumps only results in razor burn. <br />
<br />
I'm trying to at least keep up on my exercise, but for some reason sitting on my lime green couch all day makes me really tired, and by the time Joey gets home from work it's all over and I've completely melted into the cushions. Some days I wonder about those people who sort of morph into their couches and how long it will take before I'm half-flesh, half-synthetic fiber. <br />
<br />
Today I decided I would do yoga. As I mentioned earlier, I fried my ipod one hot afternoon when I tucked it into my sports bra as I vinyasad along. Joey's been kind enough to let me use his while he's at work, but that's only when either he or I remember to take it out of his gym bag that usually sits in the car. As that is the case today, I lugged the laptop out to the pool and strained to zen myself away with the faint music produced by the laptop's lackluster speakers. Then it started raining. Ash. <br />
<br />
Ash falls pretty frequently around here, as it is the preferred method of garbage disposal (have I mentioned my theory that after seeing the third world I am convinced that nothing any green, tree-hugging American or US corporation could do would even begin to mitigate the pollution created on this continent?), but usually it's only a flake or ten and you can brush it off your shoulder. Not today. The garbage fire was in the next yard and caught by the wind and the large ash flakes that landed on my computer and yoga mat and in my hair and in my water were profuse. Disgusting. Not even taking the time to roll my mat, I scooped it up, dumped out my water and ran into my house. <br />
<br />
Okay, inside. Can't do hot yoga, but how about a yoga DVD? Five minutes into Shiva Rea and I would punch the TV because she annoys me so much (I swear to God yoga DVDs are only for people who have never actually been to a yoga class), but I don't have to because the power has gone out. It really makes me want to scream when all I'm trying to do is say "om" and I can't because of giant ash clouds and our unreliable generator. Just another day in paradise - or really ironic lesson of yoga. Isn't the point to block out all outside distractions and just go with the flow? <br />
<br />
Yeah, well I'm willing to bet swami yogi never tried to do yoga in Nigeria.<br />
<br />
<br />melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3608699643492985875.post-51515438423432347522012-04-18T11:14:00.000-04:002012-04-18T11:14:22.192-04:00because why would they do anything logical?Abuja is a hard-to-fill post. Shocker, I know. But since the powers-that-be have a difficult time filling mid-level positions here (as only your first two tours are directed), many mid-level positions are occupied by entry-level officers. Many other positions remain unfilled, leaving more work and less time to do it for those who serve here. This leaves officers bogged down with routine and mundane tasks, making it exceptionally difficult for them to undertake anything new that might augment the quality of life here, thus perpetuating the cycle which makes this post hard-to-fill.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now I think my husband is pretty amazing. Not only is he a fabulous husband, he is also an incredibly intelligent, creative, diligent and driven man who is able to accomplish things of which mere mortals like me couldn't even begin to dream. Like the housing project he's begun here in Abuja. Obviously I can't go into many more details here, but I can say that if he's able to complete the project on which he's been busting his ass for the last year, not only will he greatly improve the lives of those who serve here, he will save the government tens of millions of dollars doing so.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In order to finish what he started, he needs six extra months at post. So he requested an extension. Post approved said extension and everybody asked the powers-that-be in DC. Of course, as Abuja is hard-to-fill and Joey is doing something to make it an easier place to live and save the government money, DC said <strike>yes</strike> no. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I truly don't care one way or another; Joey and I had discussed a possible extension at great length before he actually requested it and I'd made my peace with it, knowing how important this huge professional accomplishment would be to my husband, and how much the project will benefit those who serve here. But apparently Joey's language training class in January is more important. We're scheduled to go to Panama next August and even though that post is one of the most highly bid in the world, they'd rather fill his vacancy here in Abuja than in Panama. So now they'll remove an officer who has requested six more months to achieve his goal and replace him with another officer who probably didn't want to come here in the first place.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just don't get it.</div>
<div>
<br /><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>melissa lee soda cordarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15939611402754748475noreply@blogger.com0