Kickoff in London

 Yes, I still owe you basically the entirety of my summer travels through Southeast Asia. But in the interest of maybe actually keeping current this time, just a quick update to let you know I have kicked off the next leg of my journey! I'm going to be in Europe in some fashion or other for most of the next year (that's the plan, at least), and right now I'm all set up to experience the holidays in London. My first Christmas away from my family, which is going to be odd. 

(This is from a few months ago, I am not dressed like this in London in December)

Of particular interest this first day, if I manage to stay awake for it, is that I have landed and made it to my hotel in time to catch England in the World Cup quarterfinals! If I'm on a second wind when the game starts I'll probably try to wedge myself in a bar somewhere near my hotel
with the faithful. If I'm fading fast, I'll watch it in my room but throw open my windows so I can hear the city lose its mind when they score. 

The Little Lost Lamb of Incheon

I really will get better at telling you about my trips, not just the transit to get there, I promise. 

But here's another tale of my transit adventures!

The trip: 10 days in Hoi An, Viet Nam, primarily for the purposes of having the tailors there make me a custom travel wardrobe, then off to join WiFi Tribe in Bali for a month, then another few weeks of something somewhere for my birthday (I currently have some bookings in Thailand, but they can all be cancelled if I decide to do something with someone in WiFi Tribe instead). 

[Then home for the playoffs (YES, this is the year, I don't care for your moaning and groaning about the series with the Astros) and to see all of the new babies my friends are having this summer, and then off again for 6-8 weeks leading into Christmas. But more about that later...]

Going from Seattle to Hoi An is not a one-shot flight, sadly. I opted to use some of the miles I have been steadily accruing on my travel card, and found a flight with a 20 hour overnight layover in Seoul. Covid protocols being what they are, I figured that it would be more trouble than it was worth to try and enter the country to get a hotel. But, this is Asia, I figured. Aren't they known for their capsule hotels? What I actually found at Incheon (the Seoul airport) was more of a micro hotel than a capsule - a tiny room with a proper standalone bed and my own shower, rather than the little coffin-like pod of a capsule hotel. Per the official information, because I was flying in on Korean Air I could reasonably expect to be in Terminal 2, so I booked my hotel room for my layover in the Terminal 2 hotel and went on my merry way. 

The flight from Seattle to Seoul was a nice one - another one much like my flight to my connection in Dubai back in 2015 in that we flew in daylight the whole time. I read and am pleased to confirm that Korean Air has great leg room even in the furthest reaches of economy. And the flight wasn't overly full, so as soon as the doors officially closed my seat mate popped over into a mostly empty row and I had my little two-seat row to myself. Excellent movie selection, no one to coordinate bathroom trips around, plenty of space. A surprisingly pleasant way to pass 11+ hours. Important to pause and note here: longtime readers may recall that I generally can't sleep on planes. This continued to hold true on this flight. 

Upon landing, however. 

To start with, I had not been given a boarding pass for my continuing flight (the one 20 hours later) when I received my boarding pass for my first flight. This meant it took me a heck of a long time to figure out where I wanted to go and how to get there. I assumed I wanted to go to Terminal 2, based on the information I had read before flying and the fact that my hotel was there. But there was a sign saying "Go through if you have a boarding pass." I did not have a boarding pass. There was a giant Korean Air desk with lots of terminals. No one, in the entire two hours I spent during this part of the saga, ever came to man that desk. Or pretty much any other information desk or Korean Air desk I found for a very long time. 

I wandered this way. I wandered that way. I was sometimes the only living creature in my stretch of hallway. I encountered the same handful of crew members who thought they had helped me and could't figure out how I suddenly showed up through a different door 20 minutes later. (This happened multiple times with multiple people) Through a combination of the weight of my luggage and my mask, I could not stop sweating profusely. It was super cute, I assure you. 

At some point it became clear to me that my actual transfer point was in the "Concourse" between Terminals 1 and 2, but if I got there I would not be allowed to come back to Terminal 2. But my hotel was in Terminal 2, and I was extremely tired and very much in need of that shower. I wasn't able to locate anyone who spoke enough English to explain the whole situation to. (I did spend a good chunk of time a couple of years ago starting to teach myself Korean, but never got much beyond learning the alphabet and a collection of random nouns) I had no boarding pass to show to anyone. I shuttled around that entire airport about three times. 

I finally ended up going through a security checkpoint and made it out of the weird transfer zone and into the Concourse, even though I knew my hotel was in Terminal 2, but at least I was finally somewhere. Concourse was weirdly deserted, no one was at any Information desks, the lounges were all closed, as were most of the shops and restaurants. But then finally, finally, I found an inhabited Information desk. I showed her my itinerary on my phone, and then I showed her my hotel reservation. She kindly explained what I had already worked out, that technically I couldn't get to my hotel. I asked rather desperately if there was also a hotel in Concourse, because the flight wasn't until tomorrow. No, no there's not. I think at this point I must have been giving off strong kicked puppy vibes, because she got on her phone and did lots of texting and calling and then walked me through a few gates so that I could circumvent the usual protocols and take a transfer train directly into Terminal 2. She did warn me that I would need to find another staff member to get me back to Concourse the next day, but just get on this train here and it will all be okay. And lo and behold, when I got off the train - I walked straight into Terminal 2. No checkpoints, no nothing. 

The story wraps up fairly smoothly from here. I did go straight for the Korean Air desk to try and get my boarding pass (and finally found one that was actually staffed with people - multiple people, even!), but they couldn't give one to me since the flight, while booked through them, w as being operated by Vietnam Air, and they only existed in Concourse and Terminal 1. So that was stressful, but at that point I figured it could be handled tomorrow, and please please just direct me to my hotel. 

At the check-in for the hotel she asked for my itinerary, and I braced myself to go another round when she determined that my connection left from a different terminal, but she just needed to confirm that I had a connection and wasn't just weirdly loitering around the airport. Then she handed my my key, told me checkout was at 11am not 7am like I had feared, gave me the WiFi password and pointed me to my room.

My beautiful blessed room (that I was very clever to have reserved in advance, because they were fully booked by the time I finally showed up at the front desk). Air conditioning, a big bed covered in those crisp white hotel sheets, and my very own gorgeous shower. I used it twice. 

The next morning involved a little more Lost Lamb wandering, but this time I had a printed out itinerary with a special Transfer stamp from the ladies at the Korean Air desk in Terminal 2 that I was able to use to get shepherded around several more checkpoints to get back to Concourse, located my gate, and hung out there until someone showed up and was able to print me my boarding pass. Where I started working on this blog post. 

Fun little benefit of all this drama, though. I was so exhausted by the time I finally got settled into my hotel room that I was able to sleep overnight, and I've been more or less on local time ever since. After the utter debacle that was my jet lag last winter in Dublin, I'll take a few stressful hours to buy me two more functional weeks of my trip!

Trainus Interruptus - or: Bonus Time in London

 Going to jump way out of order here. I know I still owe you the rest of my time in Kerry (I haven't even started on all the fun stuff!), and the highlights of the last couple of weeks in London. But for right now, I'm going to tell you about this morning, because UGH. 

Long-time readers may recall a short trip I took to London during college, in which the first day was A Day That Will Live in Infamy. It actually wasn't that bad, if I were to lay it all out, but it was just very frustrating and tiring and everything seemed to go out of its way to go wrong. This morning has been a bit like that, though it is finally looking up. 

After several days of dithering about perhaps cutting my trip a few weeks short due to the skyrocketing Covid numbers over here, I finally decided on a middle ground of heading to the relative isolation of the countryside for a week and then heading home a week earlier than planned. I was supposed to take the train from London to Windermere today to start the final leg of my European jaunt. It was all going well - I got all packed up and checked out of my London hotel without incident, walked the few blocks to get to the train station with direct service to Windermere, and the train station at Windermere is only a few blocks from my inn. No transfers, no taxis, no nonsense. So smooth and simple. 

Well, no. 

Apparently there is some sort of "severe weather" event going on somewhere along the tracks, and all of the trains going to Windermere have been canceled. The workers at the station kept assuring me that my ticket will work tomorrow, but well, the ticket isn't really the concern! Having no place to sleep tonight is the concern. My place to sleep tonight is over a hundred miles away! 

I spent about an hour trying to find a cheap hotel that wasn't a hostel dorm (not willing to go that route during the pandemic). That wasn't working. I tried finding hotel rooms in Preston, the furthest town the train was actually going to. Shockingly devoid of any places to stay whatsoever. I finally remembered that I have travel insurance, and surely this sort of thing must be covered. Couldn't get anyone on the phone since apparently they keep US business hours, and my not having a place to sleep tonight was not deemed an "emergency." But I was finally able to dig up a copy of my policy, and confirmed that there is indeed coverage for up to two nights of "trip delay" reimbursement. I found the absolute perfect place, just a few minutes walk from the train station and cheap enough to qualify for full reimbursement. One room left. I pulled away from the screen just long enough to double check the conversion rate of pounds to dollars, popped back in literally less than 90 seconds later, and in that time someone snuck in and booked the room out from under me. 

Can I just tell you, in case it isn't already immediately obvious, a last-minute booking in London for a Saturday night, especially when there are probably several hundred people all in exactly the same boat as me, is not easy to come by, nor is it cheap. I tried two more hotels that were less conveniently located, but still "affordable" (a laughable usage of the term by any other standards). Again, they were sniped while I was trying to book them. I finally ended up in a pretty posh place that is over the reimbursement limit in the heart of the West End. Hopefully my insurance reimburses me for part of it, because this was literally the best I could do! But I finally just went for it before even something that expensive was no longer an option, and even if my claim somehow gets denied, hey, that's what the emergency savings is for. Emergencies like having nowhere to sleep! 

Still more drama trying to get to the hotel, lugging my enormous backpack the whole way. For some reason the Euston Underground was temporarily closed for about 15 minutes, and security guys were blocking all of the entrances, and it was just this chaotic crush of people. I had my mask firmly in place, which of course made me a sweaty mess, and kept causing my glasses to literally slide off my face and onto the ground if I so much as glanced at the floor. Took over 20 minutes to just get to the Tube (for reference - the Euston train station and the Tube station are one and the same, just above ground vs below ground. I didn't have to walk anywhere, all I had to do was go down). I had the good sense to wait for the second train that was literally a minute behind the first, which the entire backlog of people packed onto, and I was able to just float over to a seat on the next one. 

And once I finally got to the hotel, I was too early for check in and my glasses fell off TWICE as I was trying to offload my bags for the porter to stash. I also didn't know it at the time, but my hair was sticking out in about eight directions, and as previously mentioned, I was a sweaty mess. I did not feel up to snuff for a swanky hotel. 

But I was able to finally remove the massive literal weight from my shoulders, and wander around Leicester Square for 45 minutes - there was a little Christmas market set up in the middle of it! I wandered through a protest in Chinatown, saw the movie theatre they held all of the Harry Potter premieres at (and sadly did not go inside in deference to the lack of vaccine and mask mandates here), and found a side street that consisted entirely of Italian restaurants. And now I'm finally in my room, and it is darling. Cool view over the rooftops of London, a robe and slippers, and a big squashy armchair. 

Not entirely sure what the next day or two shakes out like. If the ice or whatever it is clears overnight, then I'm going to continue on as planned and take my train up to Windermere and enjoy a week of hiking around in the Lake District. If trains are cancelled tomorrow as well, I think I'll just heed the Very Loud message from the universe and move up my flight home. Off to research Covid testing centers in case I need to do that! 

A Week in Kerry - Part 1

 I don't even know how to begin my series of blog posts on my time in County Kerry. For one thing, there are literally over 500 photos to wade through. I guess I'll just work my way through chronologically, and stop whenever the post seems to be getting too long!

Where our story really begins and ends is with Liz, the owner of The Anvil Bar - the BnB and restaurant/pub I stayed at for the week. When the staff worked out that I was alone and without a car, she basically adopted me for the week and personally took me all around the county. I learned so much about the history of Kerry and Irish culture, and had such a fun time with her. If you ever find yourself in southwest Ireland, head outside of Castlemaine to find The Anvil and say hi to Liz for me! 

I know I said I'd go in order, and this is already out of order, but here's the lovely Liz herself!

Now onto a more linear narrative:

I knew I wanted to travel by train as much as possible during my brief stint in Europe, so rather than take a quick puddle jumper from Dublin to Kerry, I opted for a leisurely train ride instead. It was such a low key and simple way to travel - no worrying about security lines and weight limits and minuscule seats, just plenty of space to move around and lots of scenery to watch. I was feeling a little edgy when I started, as I find I generally am on travel days, but I pulled up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone on my Kindle and the accompanying movie soundtrack on my phone, and boy if that didn't just whip me right into a good frame of mind. Going between reading and staring at the rolling green fields while Hedwig's Theme played, even if I was technically in the wrong country, just felt so fitting and like I was on an adventure and maybe even on the right path. 

Scenes from the train

The windows were evidently tinted blue!

Everything was surprisingly ambiguously signed, but I made my transfer correctly and upon alighting in Tralee I found the taxi stand - though it took about half an hour for a taxi to show up (there was one leaving right when I arrived, so I wasn't just standing around optimistically, I promise). My taxi driver gave me my favorite weather forecast I think I've ever heard: 

"If you can see the mountains, it's going to rain. If you can't see them, it's raining."

The Anvil is on a quiet road out in the countryside - the only stretch with sidewalks has the Anvil, another bar called Murphy's Bar, a sewing shop, a church, and a tax advisor. There is also a hiking loop that starts right behind the bar, but it was apparently closed for renovations, so I never tried it out. The pub itself was exactly what it should be - dark wood and amber lighting and a good crowd of regulars. And SPECTACULAR food. If you ever stop by (and you should!), try the grilled goat cheese. My taste buds swooned. 

Working dinner in the pub

Monday morning I took it nice and slow - but was actually awake during the morning! Jet lag is finally over! I enjoyed my lovely room and the views of the rolling hills I could see from my many windows, and rescued a butterfly that somehow got inside my skylight:

And I went for a little walk around the stretch of neighborhood that I could reach. It was very peaceful, and since I was in the countryside and did not need to block out city weirdos, I did not have headphones in, which is how I discovered that I was walking past a burbling brook:

Returning to the Anvil, I came across the owner's son who works the bar, and he figured out pretty quickly that I didn't have a car, and told me about the shuttle buses. During the summer they are available for the guests in the high season, but during the winter they actually function as school buses. But that means that they make runs into Tralee and Killarney each day for a few hours (and for the full day if I wanted to go with them for the morning run at 7:30am, which I decidedly did not). "Just let them know at the bar, and they'll let the drivers know." 

And then later that night, I met Liz. She popped by my table as I sat enjoying another fine meal in the pub to give me a handwritten schedule of the bus for the rest of the week, and we got to chatting. Soon enough, she had brought me a brochure of County Kerry and all of the places the school bus could drop me off for a few hours. When we were done talking and she left me to the rest of my meal, I experienced one of those odd moments that happen only when I'm traveling, where I have an actual physical feeling of overwhelming joy and like the whole universe aligned to create this singular moment. Running off to the Irish countryside was such a random, spontaneous decision on my part. Choosing this particular BnB was a complete whim, and the whole thing came together in a matter of minutes. I didn't do enough research to realize that I couldn't walk anywhere from the BnB, I had no idea what even was in the area to see, and it just generally could have been such a dud of a week. And instead, I was sitting in a picture-perfect pub with music playing and rugby on the TV in the background and that warm glowing lighting, eating a warm meal and getting ready to adventure around the Dingle Peninsula for the week, making friends, and it just felt amazing. All of those days and stretched where traveling is so much harder than just living at home, where I don't feel adventurous just overwhelmed, where I wonder what on earth I am thinking doing this with my life - this was one of those moments where it all pays off. 

I'll take you through the adventures and wanderings that ensued in the next post. For now, I leave you with one more out-of-order photo, just because I like it:

Having a WONDERFUL time on my impromptu Kerry trip

How I Got to Barbados

 Or: A Tale in International Travel in the Time of COVID

Just landed, very tired, and VERY overdressed for the weather

Traveling to Barbados during the pandemic is a bit of an undertaking. But then again, I probably wouldn't have traveled to Barbados in the first place if it weren't for the pandemic - it's not exactly a backpacker hotspot (expensive, no hostels, etc), and if I'm coming this far down in the Caribbean I would be heading to Guadeloupe under normal circumstances. But because of the hardcore protocols, they have kept their numbers astonishingly low the entire time, so it's safe to be here - safer than at home, actually! And there is some visa flexibility with the new Welcome Stamp for remote workers, and as an added bonus it is reasonably close to the time zone I still work in. I'm working on transitioning to an asynchronous work set-up, so I can move freely ("freely" - again, pandemic protocols) to other parts of the world while still supporting myself and helping out at the office. 

So, these protocols: The primary hurdles are the PCR test and the government-approved quarantine locations. I had to find a place that would do a nasopharyngeal swab for my PCR test (that's the one that goes way up and makes you sneeze on the doctor), and get the results to me quickly enough to make the 72-hour cutoff. These aren't your nice free drive-thru ones. In fact, the main follow-up question they asked everyone during processing at the BGI airport was if I self-swabbed or a trained medical professional did it for me. If you decide to follow me down here, make sure the tester is the one physically jamming the thing up your nose. 

There is also an app you have to get, the BMI Safe app, which helpfully includes a space to upload your documents and a link to the immigration form you need to fill out within 72 hours of arrival. If you are not vaccinated, or test positive, then I think you use the app for monitoring for a few weeks. I have not needed to use it since arrival, but I'm keeping it on my phone for the full duration of my stay just in case. I think it also does the anonymous Bluetooth contact tracing thing. 

I also needed to book a suggested minimum of 2 nights at a government-approved isolation facility (i.e. hotel of some kind). There is actually a huge list of them, but I chose the Coconut Court Beach Hotel and I do recommend it. Several in-house restaurants will deliver room service while you are quarantining, and if you are vaccinated you are allowed to move freely within the hotel and use the pool while you wait for your results to come in. You just can't leave the property - which includes not going on the beach. And each room is ocean-view. I chose it because it was basically the cheapest option that was still on the beach, but I actually really liked it. FYI - the unvaccinated have to take several tests after arriving in Barbados, and need to book a quarantine room for 7 nights, I believe. 

Now, for the blow-by-blow of actually getting here. 

I worked almost a full day on Tuesday, and then flew out at 9pm that night. I think it was my first time on JetBlue, and I found it to be perfectly fine, no complaints. I knew from the get-go that I was going to be very sleep deprived the whole time, as I have a hard time sleeping on planes, plus each leg of the journey was just long enough to be a long trip and just short enough to prevent me from getting a proper sleep. I did come prepared with an eye mask and inflatable neck pillow, and I think I did catch maybe as much as 90 minutes of sleep altogether on the flight to New York. 

I had a 5 hour layover at JFK, with no chance of sleeping anywhere in my terminal. Then another 5 hour flight to Barbados. I've heard from people traveling to Europe that the airlines are the ones who do most of the PCR test checking, but no one from JetBlue wanted anything to do with my results, so I hopped on the plane semi-convinced that I was going to get turned away at customs for somehow having the wrong test (spoiler: I didn't get turned away). They gave us several forms to fill out of the plane, but nothing to write with, so bring a pen! A little more cat-napping and mostly just being awake and incredibly sleepy, and we landed on a tiny little island in the southern Caribbean!

We deplaned on the tarmac (through both ends of the plane, which I have vague memories of also doing in Guadeloupe in 2008, and no other time in my life), and then worked our way through the first stage of entry protocols for well over an hour. Pro-tip for anyone else traveling to Barbados right now: choose seats right at the front or back of the plane, none of this middle of the cabin business. And don't be polite about shoving your way forward. That line took FOREVER. I made probably about 5 or 6 stops during the whole entry process, each one for another little part of the process. First was showing my PCR test and confirming that I did not self-swab. Then was showing my vaccination card, confirming that I had accommodations booked, and getting my little green wristband. Then was taking a number and sitting in a little waiting area, and when that number was finally called, giving them my information and receiving the vial for a new PCR test. Then actually getting the PCR test around the next corner. Then the actual immigrations line - WHERE THEY DIDN'T STAMP MY PASSPORT, I AM SO SAD ABOUT THAT - where I had to show them the form I'd filled out online. And then finally Customs, where I actually gave then the forms I filled out on the airplane. 

And then FINALLY I was free ("free"). I went to the taxi area, where I had pre-arranged with Coconut Court to have a government-approved quarantine taxi waiting for me (at no charge to me, yay!) to whisk me away to my hotel. Where I then waited for at least 20 minutes to get checked in. At which point it occurred to me that Island Time is probably a thing here, and I'll be a lot happier if I just realize that and accept it and incorporate it into my planning and mindset. But I got checked in, and got into my room with a view, and just became overwhelmed with happiness that I freaking did the thing, and that I'm here and it's warm and new and exciting. 

And my test results came back nice and quick, too - I woke up the next morning to my all-clear email, and was swimming in the Caribbean within 24 hours of my arrival!

Still bummed about the lack of passport stamp, though. My poor baby is still empty. 

Off on Another Adventure

 I've been awake for somewhere in the vicinity of 36 - 40 hours (the resulting brain fog is leaving me unable to calculate exactly how long when you factor in the time change), I spent about 95% of that time extremely stressed out and convinced I was making a colossal misstep in my life, and for some reason my feet ache like I've been on them the whole time instead of sitting in airports and on airplanes and generally being beyond sedentary. 

But now that I'm here, I'm so happy. 

Because of aforementioned sleep deprivation, I'm going to crash in mere minutes, but I just wanted to pop on here and announce the commencement of my next long term travel adventure, pandemic be damned, and my arrival in Barbados to kick things off. 

I'm quarantining in a government-approved hotel on the beach while we wait for the results of the COVID test I took at immigration, then off to various AirBnBs along the south coast. I was shuttled straight from the airport to the hotel, so I am basing my happiness off of a few fleeting glimpses, but I'm just so happy I'm here. I'm so happy I went ahead and just bought the plane tickets even though I was terrified. 

Road Trip 2012: The Long Long Road

After Oceanside, we made the quick 40 minute jaunt to Mission Viejo, home to some of Katie's family. We stayed at the home of her grandparents, and were immediately put to work to help prep dinner. A big family dinner was on the schedule, and Aunt Cindy and Uncle Darrin and their posse were due to arrive within the hour. I learned how to cut a watermelon, and I'm very proud.

Dinner was a fun affair- I wheedled out the story of how Katie's parents met, and there was chocolate cake. Aunt Cindy reminded me of Katie's mom Lynn so very very much.

But the next morning it was out of the warm embrace of family and into the wretched grasp of LA Traffic. And thus begins the Long Long Road to San Francisco.

We passed LA in the middle of the day, so we weren't subjected to the legendary Los Angeles rush hour. But we still hit plenty of traffic! They stop very very suddenly in Los Angeles. You have less than five seconds warning before 70 mph turns to 0 mph. Thank goodness for well-functioning brakes!

But even with all of the shenanigans of the other drivers, it was pretty fun to drive past all of the signs for places you usually only see in the movies.

We even saw the Matterhorn, but it was by too quickly for us to get a picture.

After about two hours of crawling we broke through and were able to continue on our merry way (needless to say, I was driving). We stopped for lunch at a little Italian place in Agoura Hills, and once again found ourselves at the mercy of very loud bunches of recently-freed teenagers. Sadly, we are pretty sure we acted exactly the same way at that age. Which really wasn't that long ago. *shudder*

From there on out, we wound our way on and off of the Pacific Coast Highway- and interestingly, in and out of radio stations. One of our Rules of the Road is that she who drives calls the music. As I was driving, I had on country radio. Maybe California just has too many stations, or something, but every so often it would just completely switch stations and an Alan Jackson song would suddenly be rap. No classical, no fun Mexican polka music; rap every single time. But when we did have country, it came in crystal clear.

We kept driving for hours upon hours. We passed the Google guy several times, which we found highly amusing, but our backs definitely started to complain. We finally stopped at a gas station at dusk and filled up on snacks so we wouldn't have to stop for dinner. At this point, I deemed us far enough out of crazy drivers to let Katie take over, as 7 hours of driving in one day was quite enough for me, thank you. You see, I am a benevolent dictator. I ease up on my rulings when it suits me.

One might perhaps wonder at why we didn't just pull over for the night and make San Francisco in the morning. Because we had a very exciting thing waiting for us: a snazzy hotel right in the heart of the city! Seriously, it was on 4th and Market Street. Walking distance to the Wharf and pretty much everything else our little city hearts could desire. And the bed was sooooo comfy! No offense to Motel 6, but the Mosser has got you beat.

We hit town just before 10pm, and went right to sleep so we could get up first thing in the morning. The adventures in San Francisco to come shortly!

Road Trip 2012: Entering Red Rock Country

 When we first arrived in Flagstaff, AZ, the plan was to spend a day frolicking around the Arches National Park in Utah before commencing with our Arizona-based activities. Unfortunately, that turned out to be significantly further away that we expected, so we had to nix Utah from the travel plans.

Instead, we spent our full day in Flagstaff exploring the Red Rock country over in Sedona. The Oak Creek highway is a 15-mile stretch of scenic highway that winds up (to? through? Not entirely certain where it ends) Sedona, with some truly stunning red rock formations. Conveniently, Montezuma's Castle, another site we wanted to see, was just beyond it.

First up was Montezuma's Well, a natural spring of some sort. We'd actually intended to skip it, but took a wrong turning on our way to the Castle, and figured Why Not?

I was particularly enamored with this tree, and Katie humored me

Our first cliff dwelling!

 We knew that Montezuma's Castle would be a cliff dwelling, but had no idea that we would get a preview at the Well! I took an archaeology class last fall that featured several cliff dwellings, so I geeked out a bit and pretended I knew what I was talking about.

The Well itself

We didn't linger overlong, as the heat was a bit overpowering. The altitude kept us very dehydrated, despite our best efforts, for our entire stay in Arizona. Moving on to the Castle. It is one of the largest and best preserved cliff dwellings in the area, over 1000 years old and last occupied something like 700 years ago. It is not a castle, nor does it have any connection to the fabled Montezuma. The settlers who discovered it assumed that something so impressive was built as a castle for the great leader, and thus it got its name.

Despite another rattlesnake sign warning us to stay on the trail, the only wildlife we encountered were some funny little lizards that did pushups and turned in circles on their beds like dogs. We weren't able to get a good picture, but they were quite the animated little fellows. 

For our return trip through Oak Creek, we stopped at several pull-outs for less reflection-y pictures. Despite rising and falling some 3000 feet while severely overloaded, Candy pulled through and got us home in one piece.

Once back in Flagstaff, with its normal rocks, we wandered around the Historic Train District for dinner and some light shopping, and stole more free wifi from the surrounding hotels (when we checked in and tried to buy internet, we were informed that the Motel 6 internet was down, but prompted to scrounge some wifi off of a neighboring hotel. Worked like a charm). Up next: the Grand Canyon!!

Road Trip 2012: Leaving Texas

Because of our late start on Thursday, we stopped for the night in Fort Stockton, TX. Once there, we learned from my mother that they have a mandatory road trip stop: Paisano Pete.

10-11 feet tall, 22 feet long

I inserted myself to give you a sense of scale

 And then we were once again on the road, this time for a little over 7 hours to take us to Santa Fe.

Can you see the cowboy hat in the truck ahead of us?

Scrubby Texas landscape

Our plan for this road trip is to leave enough flex time that we can make side trips when we are so inspired, yet for whatever reason we opted out of a detour to Mosquito Lake. Call us crazy.

And then the inevitable: I left Texas. Probably never to be lived in again, but certainly to be visited.

Once we hit New Mexico, it seemed like the terrain instantly changed. It was hillier, and the dirt had a tint of red to it. Shortly before Encino, NM, we encountered a sign that greatly amused us: Gusty Winds May Exist. They certainly did exist, and continue to all throughout New Mexico.

We stopped for lunch in Roswell, NM. The first few miles were distressingly void of aliens...

But plenty of tractors

 But once we got into the heart of downtown, the extraterrestrials came out to play!

I'm pretty sure this was just a grocery store

I have tried like crazy to rotate this, and it's not playing dice. My apologies.

 We stopped for lunch (Sonic- I only discovered it a few weeks ago, but it's really quite good! Now I know why everyone was talking about it all throughout college...), and continued on our merry way, with me at the wheel this time. Photos from this point on were taken for me by the lovely Katie.

We touched down in Santa Fe around 5 or 6 in the evening (thank you, time zone change!), and settled in. Our Santa Fe adventures are to come! Today, we move on in to Arizona.

P.S. Katie is also documenting our trip, on her blog. She's a pretty spiffy writer, so you should check it out!