My flight to Costa Rica left at 10:10 this morning. At 9:50 a.m., I was sitting in a hotel lobby in Orlando, hitting my head against the seafoam green table. I missed my flight, and it is all my fault.
This video best expresses my feelings:
(more of the freak out, less the chic)
Yesterday when I signed up for the hotel shuttle to the airport, I looked at the time on my return flight from Costa Rica. Today as I sat in the lobby, checking e-mail while waiting for the airport shuttle, I pulled out my boarding pass (apparently my eyes glazed over during the entire online process and I neglected to look at the time) and realized my flight was taking off in 20 minutes. I stared in disbelief at my computer. My heart pounded hard and fast. I think I was shaking. I dug through my carry on bag for my phone. I scrolled down to Jet Blue (yep, saved them! Thank God.) and couldn’t hold back my freak out from the kind phone operator. My voice quivered as I explained my situation, and as she did computer things, I mumbled things like “I can’t believe I did this. Uhhh, what am I going to do?” And after she set me up on stand-by for Thursday, so said she hoped my day got better. Me too. What’s really ironic is that I purposely scheduled my flight to Costa Rica the day before Jet Blue All-You-Can-Jet Pass expired, in case something would happen.I really hope this wasn’t some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.
As far as bad things happening, this isn’t terrible. I have a place to stay already (unlike Eugene, when my hostel didn’t exist). There’s just nothing around here though (except Denny’s and TGIFriday’s, which I think gave me food poisoning yesterday). I also forgot my books at home when I switched from rolly luggage to a backpack. And don’t even get me started on the communication blitz I sent to my friend Matt across e-mail, Facebook and Skype, hoping he wouldn’t be picking me up at the airport as I continue to camp out in the hotel lobby, because it’s the only place with wireless internet, and right now, wireless internet is the only thing making me happy.
So now that my day is wide open, I’m left contemplating some truly exciting options. Pool (is this really sensible, Jacky, considering you are STILL peeling from a burn you got two weeks ago?). TV. Internet in the hotel lobby. Walking 50 minutes to Wal-Mart. I may be in the place where dreams come true, but right now it’s kind of a nightmare.
On the bright side, now I’ll be around to watch “So You Think You Can Dance” and “Glee” on TV.
Going into the Dominican Republic, I admitted that I had no idea what I was going to do there. Or why I was going, really. I wanted to visit some places outside the U.S., and the flights fit my schedule, and that’s all that mattered. Part of me thinks maybe this logic was a bad idea. At least for someone whose Spanish is, oh, laughable. And for someone who is pale and non-Hispanic looking, relying on a fake wedding ring to fend off cat calls (this attempt was also laughable, and the ring left a classy green band around my finger).
The entire flight to Santo Domingo, the rest of the passengers spoke as though they were long lost friends — friends who couldn’t stop talking because of everything they had to catch up on. And it was all said passionately. With hand gestures and body movements. This didn’t so much aid in taking a nap to supplement my five hours of sleep when my seatmate kept knocking into me and talking louder than my iPod.
I was staying in the Colonial Zone, so my hotel was just two blocks from Conde Street, which is pedestrian-only traffic and filled with shops, food and lots of culture. Once I was settled in (after first being told they didn’t have my reservation, then being escorted to an ATM by an employee because I got lost finding it on my own), I explored the area.
(More photos from Santo Domingo are here.)
Even though I had a map (from a tourist magazine at the hotel) with recommendations of things to do, I just wandered down the streets, admiring the buildings, colors and history (I also sweat more than I have in my entire life. I honestly think 98 percent of the liquids in my body became sweat that soaked my clothes). I explored the area on foot because transportation, of any kind, nearly gave me a heart attack. After riding in a taxi from the airport, I learned that lanes aren’t so much solid guides as suggestions that you shouldn’t feel restrained by. Want to drive in the middle of two lanes? Well, go right ahead!Don’t feel like stopping at an intersection and would just rather honk your horn a couple times? OK, brilliant! Want to speed up, then slow down and then swerve in front of another car? What’s stopping you?! It was like a Consumer Reports crash test experiment, minus all the safety precautions and test dummies inside.
And there was NO. WAY. I was going to be the passenger on a motorcycle. It appeared as though the highway had a special side lane for motorcycles, which was nice, but the vehicles didn’t look at all sturdy or safe. Helmets weren’t included with your fare, either (and the helmets that some drivers wore didn’t look all that protective either). I can’t even order ice cream, so there’s no way I’d chance doing something that could leave me in a hospital, mumbling about “Los Estados Unidos” and “el aeropuerto,” occasionally bursting out “HAY CARAMBA!” or “Para el amor de Jesucristo.” (“OH NO!” and “For the love of Jesus Christ.” Phrases I likely picked up in high school Spanish watching soap operas.)
After seeing the buses go by — more like minivans, some without doors — with people squished inside or flailing off the side, I knew it’d be better to rely on my Birkenstocks (which, sadly, have cracked just a month after I bought them). Not to mention there wasn’t a bus route map — there was an end destination and you just shout out when you want to get off. I knew I’d probably have a panic attack if I ventured onto one, never able to correctly shout where or when I wanted to get off, never sure where I was or how to get back where I started.
Transportation in general was just chaotic. Pedestrians didn’t have so much the right of way as the right to run — across streets and highways whenever there was a break in traffic (or whenever they felt tired of waiting). People darted across the highway to an unmarked spot, where I can only assume a bus or something was going to stop. I’m sure there was a method to it all, but it was certainly way beyond my comprehension.
On my way back to the airport, I thought I was going to die multiple times. My driver didn’t speak English, but if I translated correctly, he said they all drive very fast there (right as a motorbike swerved to avoid hitting my side as he ran through an intersection). I’m not sure he stopped at all during the drive, except to drop me off (and we went through residential areas with stops signs and traffic). The windows of his Honda (circa 1986) were rolled down to the point that my hair whipped across my face. My seatbelt didn’t work.
My favorite part of the visit was when I walked down Conde Street in the evening, after everyone was off work. People congregate on the benches, and as you walked down the strip you could hear people playing music. Groups of men were clustered every few blocks, beating drums and shaking maracas, singing words I couldn’t understand. One woman stood outside her shop, shaking her booty to the music as two men, quite blatantly, stared at her round ass. This scene seemed to capture the essence of the city — noisy, interactive, colorful. From my hotel room I could hear dogs down the block barking, people gathering on the back patio for dinner and conversations on the stairway. For some reason, none of it bothered me like it normally would in the US. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
Where Aruba felt too much like a tourist-only destination with no real feel for the country, Santo Domingo was the opposite. Most of the places I walked, I was the only tourist around. Few people spoke English. I was able to really see and experience the city, how people actually live instead of a fantasy bubble (I’m not knocking Aruba — I’m just realizing the types of places I like to visit). I often felt confused and worried about my safety in Santo Domingo, but I wouldn’t trade this trip for another location. I needed to be somewhere where people wouldn’t cater to me in English. Where the hotel was basic, if run down. Where I had to use bottled water to brush my teeth. Where I had to leave my key in a special slot in order to have electricity (therefore preventing the electricity from being on while you’re out of the room). Then were the three times when the electricity actually WENT OUT — one of those times I was already at the airport. A man at Hudson News got out a flashlight to grab a bottled water from the fridge. I immediately wondered if mass chaos would ensue. A few minutes later, everything was back to normal, my imagination back in check.
While I felt out of my comfort zone the majority of my time in Santo Domingo (more because I couldn’t communicate and was unfamiliar with the area), the perspective I gained was exactly what I needed. I may not have toured all sites or explored the entire city, but I learned a lot about myself, which made getting lost and feeling out of place worth it.
I’ve been trying to take a picture from every plane ride (window seat pending). Here are photos from my flight to Portland, destination number one on my All-You-Can-Jet Pass.
First leg from JFK to Long Beach, Calif. Loved seeing all these mountains.
Arrived in San Diego on Friday night. My sister’s internet isn’t working so I’m at a coffee shop now but don’t have enough time for proper updates.
Here’s what’s to come…
1) How Eugene turned out after the homeless fiasco
2) My impromptu drive along the Oregon Coast. I probably need to live there within the next three years
3) Realizing how spoiled I’ve been on Jet Blue after flying Delta
4) Coronado Island and the best omelet of my life and dinner in Cardiff by the Sea, right off the ocean
Today’s plans include brunch and kayaking. Excited to explore more of San Diego since we’ve mostly visited nearby towns so far.
When I was planning my itinerary with my Jet Blue pass, Aruba wasn’t even on the radar. I thought I’d end up in San Juan, Puerto Rico, traipsing through a rain forest. Then I researched the safety and thought maybe it wasn’t the best option for a solo traveler with questionable Spanish. Then I thought I’d go to St. Maarten, but the flights didn’t work with my schedule. Aruba was safe*, the dates worked and it fit the bill for the beach destination of my travels. *Regardless, I can’t tell you how many times “Natalie Holloway” has run through my head
But for as far south as I am, hovering just above South America, I don’t really feel like I’m in another country. I’m still in the same time zone as New York. I didn’t even have to convert my money because everyone excepts dollars. Everyone here speaks English. The official language is Dutch because it’s part of the “Kingdom of the Netherlands.” But Papiamento is more common — a mix of Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, English, French, West African and Indian. Before I knew what this language was, it sounded both familiar and confusing, which now makes sense.
(hey youtube, thanks for picking a really great opening still shot. um. not.)
I’ve never come so close to missing a flight as I did today. The security line at JFK was ridiculously slow. I made it through security as my plane finished boarding, hobbling there with my bags barely reassembled and my untied shoe laces flying everywhere.
On my way to the gate, though, I happened to run into my friends Michael and Shannon on their way back from New Orleans, which was a wonderful surprise. AND THEN I saw my first celebrity. Thom Filicia, formerly of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. He had a lovely tan.
The flight itself was pretty uneventful. My knees were achy an hour in, so they’re definitely not going to appreciate the 12 other flights in store. I took three snacks because I wasn’t able to grab lunch at the food court before boarding. Because Jet Blue gives you as many snacks and drinks as you want. FOR FREE. So you can eat them while you are watching DirectTV. Which is also free. OMG cable!
I was going to post a picture that I took out the window on the flight, but I just realized I forgot my camera cable uploader thing. Which is not good.
Now I’m just waiting at the Long Beach airport for my connecting flight to Portland. This place doesn’t feel like an airport at all — we walked outside to exit the plane and get into the airport. There are no screens with flight information. There are little birds just chirping and flying around INSIDE the airport. I repeat, there are birds just bopping around me. And no one is alarmed by this. What if the birds have swine flu?!
Four more hours until I arrive in Portland. Can’t wait to be back there!
After watching Marisa of Creative Thursday and Christine Mason Miller experiment with videos, I decided now would be the perfect time for me to start as I get ready for five weeks of traveling. As much I want to record a bunch of takes and edit it until it’s perfect, I’m not letting myself — which certainly makes things a bit more interesting…
A few things I learned from this experiment:
1) Maybe don’t prop the computer up on pillows, which will inevitably wobble
2) I am completely unaware of the facial expressions I’m making
3) For the love, stop saying “um” or “like” every 12 words
4) Look at the camera more
5) Have a little outline – just to know where I’m headed
If you’re wondering how it’s possible for me to swing this extended vacation, you can read my post about being laid off at This Ordinary Day.
sidenote: my trip to California was actually scheduled before Jet Blue’s promotion, so I want to give a shout out to G-Unit (aka my grandparents) who donated their miles for me to visit my sister.
I bought Jet Blue’s All-You-Can-Jet Pass last week, and I have been giddy thinking about all my options ever since. I have an entire month to fly anywhere that Jet Blue goes. ANYWHERE. This is the biggest gift I’ve given myself, and as Jen Lemen wrote, “This journey is mine, all mine, my darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I already had a vacation planned to San Diego and San Francisco, and now I’ll be able to see an old friend in Houston, return to Portland just because I love it, and meet up with another friend in Costa Rica (omg Costa Rica, I know). I probably have time for three other places, but I’m having trouble narrowing it down. Right now the rain forest in Puerto Rico is calling my name.
Pending internet access, I’ll be sharing stories and pictures from my all travels as they happen. Stay tuned. Things are about to get really exciting.
