Two Cappuccinos, Hold the Catcalls

by Megan

Due cappuccini, per favore.

It may seem obvious, but a quiet train station in Turin, Italy at midnight is rather unsettling when all you know in Italian is, "Two cappuccinos, please," and a few choice curse words.  Not only that, but I was out of euros on my cellphone, waiting for a friend who was thirty minutes late, and surrounded by men who lived up to the catcalling stereotype of Italian men.  When she finally arrived with our two gracious hosts, one rather enamored with the idea of me, and the other, a pop-diva aficionado- both Turkish engineers- I couldn't help but laugh at the beauty of the situation.

Toto, we aren't in Venice any more

That morning, I'd left Venice for Trieste, a seaport city in northeastern Italy, famous for it's Austro-Hungarian past.  The first thing I noticed when stepping off the train was the city's stunningly different architecture contrasted against the confined canals of Venice I had walked away from earlier that morning.  There was a hush hum from people coming and going, child or brief case in hand.  On the advice of a well intending station manager who tried very hard to speak with me in Spanish (Italian eventually took over, and I held on to any word I understood like a two-year-old to her blanket), I took a walking tour of the city streets and plazas.
My lunch consisted of nuts, cookies and a gigantic bottle of fizzy water, after accidentally ordering a ham sandwich, of which I only ate the bread (I really tried to nibble of the meat, but I just couldn't do it).  Afterwards, I caught a bus leading out of the city, towards Miramare, to see the castle the station manager told me was a must see, or at least, that's what I thought he was trying to tell me.  The bus driver and I couldn't understand each other, so I eventually jumped off the bus where I thought the castle might be near.  By this point, I only had two hours to catch the last train from Trieste at 4pm, or I would leave my friend worrying in Turin, so I ran for the water.
Taking plenty of time to dip my feet into the ocean, and enjoying the awesome sight of the bluest water imaginable, I caught my breath.  You could see the bottom of the ocean way out in the deep and the station manager's famed castle gleamed in the warm sun as proud and bright as he described.  I ran three miles along the water, snapping photos as I went, to catch the 36 bus back to the station.  Thankful that my bag was very light, I took my seat on the train.

On the seven hour ride to Turin, a fellow rider drew a picture of me holding a rose and gave it to me before getting off in Milan.  I spent the last two hours scribbling lists, ideas and memories on every scrap of paper around.  In the end, the train station was unpleasant, but sharing my adventure with my travel buddy and hosts helped me forget the catcalls... or maybe it was my host's rendition of Mirah Carey...

Magical Hidden Beaches of Ko Phan gan

By Lillie
Catch more of her adventures at http://lmarshallworld.blogspot.com

You are minding your business on the dirty town center beach, climbing jagged rock faces to try to get to the first of the pristine hidden beaches of Ko Phan gan which are tucked miles apart, wedged behind the rockin' town, accessible only by boat or jungle trek. You are getting extremely sweaty, dirty, and persecuted by weird dog packs.

Suddenly: "You want water taxi?" says the Thai man, holding up a map of the thirty hidden beaches.
"I'd love one," you say, "but I only brought a little money today."
"No problem," he smiles. "I find more girls, then I find men to pay for you."

Before I could say, "Wha--" I was suddenly in a gorgeous longtailed boat with two very nice British lasses, a French personal trainer, and a Spanish restaurant owner. Yes, we were a VERY good-looking boat. (Um, VERY.)

For the next six hours we explored so many gorgeous hidden beaches, I nearly cried with delight. AGHHHHHH!!!! Feast upon the pictures and feel the soft, warm green water and fluffy white sand!!! AGHHHH!!!!!!! Henceforth, if I feel stressed and need to go to a "happy place", these beaches will swirl to mind and hug me happy :) May they do the same for you!

(And, yes, I recognize the peril of women accepting free things simply because we are women, but in this particular case, my sketchball radar was in fine form and it worked out for me and my British lady friends a-ok fantastic. Traveling as a solo female has enough stresses; let's celebrate the boons!!)