In Istanbul I acquired tickets to go on a six hour bus ride for $25 Turkish Lira each, which is the equivalent of $12.61 USD. This seems pretty reasonable in terms of cost, but I know what you’re thinking. A six hour bus ride? I know. After an embarrassing amount of effort to get into the bus and into our seats, Wonder Boy and I sat back and took in our surroundings. The seats were comfortable. The bus had wireless. And there was this assistant to the driver on the bus. Why would a bus driver need an assistant? Let me tell you.Based on my limited experience, on buses in Turkey you get treated as if you’re on a flight. And I don’t mean some American flight where all you get is a beverage. I’m talking you get treated well. The assistant guy rolled his cart up and down the aisle of the bus and offered us free drinks and snacks. He offered us more to eat and drink. He collected trash. He let everyone use some delightful smelling hand sanitizer. All of this ON A BUS.
But this was no fluke. On our next bus ride, similarly priced and for a similar distance, within moments of sitting down, I was handed ice cream. After I finished my delicious single-serving bowl of chocolate-vanilla swirl ice cream, I was offered something to drink and snack on. And then later, the hand sanitizer.
Want to reduce the number of cars on the road? I have the solution! And it definitely involved buses and ice cream.
I’m recently back from 2 weeks in Turkey and Greece. Leaving other countries always gives me lots to reflect on about my own country – what we do well and where we need to improve. One thing that constantly impressed Wonder Boy and I was the friendliness and helpfulness of the Turkish people. While it may not apply to every single person, I think we only encountered two rude people during our whole two week stay. Can you imagine how many rude people you would come across here in the states during a similar two week stretch?
During our 22 hours of travel home, Wonder Boy and I discussed the warmth we experienced abroad and agreed that we needed to be nicer when we got home and wish the same for others around us. We got beat to the punch!
While we were gone, we were very grateful to have Frank the Tank and my brother watching Addy and Notorious B.I.G. as well as keeping an eye on our lawn. We were surprised to find out that our neighbor, Bertha Knuckles, not only watered our plants but also weeded our garden! (Our yard is almost all garden so this is no small task.) As if that’s not enough, my mom also made a trip over and watered the plants and weeded. Our garden is weed-free!
My parents picked us up from the airport and as my mom was telling me about the weeding, I could help but marvel that maybe we Americans are nicer than I was giving us credit for!
I plugged in at work and Man on Fire started playing and before the song was done, my love was professed all over Twitter. I Don’t Wanna Pray is what sealed the deal for me. It’s got the perfect mix of bluegrassy folk and anthemy lyrics that I love. It started playing and I looked up the band’s concert line-up because I can easily imagine attending an outdoor show and dancing around to this song across some crowded lawn.
At that same imagined show, when Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes starts to play Dear Believer, I’d have to lie down (or at least lean back into Wonder Boy) and shut my eyes while rocking back and forth into a happy delirium. Have I established yet that this album has me a smitten kitten? I can go on! Child hails to slow-jam dirty 60s rock
Here is not 100% perfect, but it’s such a welcome addition to my summer soundtrack! Love.
There’s been a lot of drama in my household around cameras lately that I’d rather not go into but I will say it resulted in an upgrade for me so you’ll be seeing a lot of fantabulous photography in the future. During the process, I had to purchase some new memory cards for my camera. New cameras mean more megapixels and more megapixels mean bigger file sizes. Below is a snapshot of my newest memory card and my oldest.
The yesterday on Woot I had the option to buy a 64 gig card. (I didn’t.) My how times have changed.
I like watching high school TV shows and movies about rebels. I love identifying with rebellious characters because my high school experiences included no rebellion. Once I stayed out past midnight without asking my parents. And that was like, whoa. The girls I was friends with at my all girls high school … we were nice girls. We were a little boring. One girl, the most “anti-establishment(big quotes around that) didn’t shave her legs for a year and for a while dyed her red hair blue.
In an effort to pull me to the dark side, or maybe just to save me from the crap music I was listening to, this girls gave me two mix tapes. They were full of nothing but Beastie Boys and I was in love. I listened to License to Ill every. single. day. on the way to high school. I played the tapes for kids when I was babysitting. (Potentially a questionably choice.)
Nowadays, I flirt with membership in the hipster, indie rock crowd, staying safely on the outskirts but wholly able to hold my own in music conversations. I attribute that to when I was 16, sitting in my 1985 Honda Civic hatchback listening to Paul’s Boutique. (Wonder Boy has had a great deal of influence on my music tastes in more recent years.)
Sitting in my doctor’s office waiting room today, I saw on my phone a message about the death of Adam ‘MCA’ Yauch. I wasn’t sure what to do with the informaton … how to process it. On my way home, a local radio station announced the death and then played No Sleep till Brooklyn and Sabotage. I did the only acceptable thing. I rolled down my windows and turned up the volume, just like 16-year-old me would have done.
I am grateful for the music MCA helped create and which I will enjoy for many, many more years to come. And thank you for getting me out of a phase that involved way too much bubblegum pop.