Hangovers and the Art of Negotiation

The Art:
A ceramic statuette from Cancun, Mexico

The Story:
When I heard about a large local arts and crafts market in the town of Cancun, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see a little of what the artisans had to offer, so we headed into town, still hungover from the previous night's tequila games on the beach. Which, as it turned out, actually sharpened my bargaining skills in the market.

Coming from the land of price tags and shopping malls, bargaining wasn't exactly my strong suit; in fact, I was a bargaining virgin lost in a sea of statuettes, jewellery, and pottery, all of which started to look the same to me. I searched through hundreds of what looked like identical trinkets, hoping to find the unusual or something that would distinguish itself as unique in some way. I worried that I would just be wasting money on very commonplace mass-produced pieces. Then I spotted this dusty statuette, high up on a shelf in one market stall, and was convinced that I had located the solitary piece worth bringing home.

That's when my hangover came to my aid: having used up my last bit of energy browsing for this gem, I had no tolerance left for the 'fun' of negotiating, and after a brief exchange with the seller, I told him (completely truthfully) that I was exhausted and needed to leave. Turns out this became my bargaining edge, and the piece was mine for the last price I offered.

The seller cheerfully wrapped up my precious artefact in wads of newspaper, stuffed it into a Kotex shipping box, and tied it all up with multi-coloured lengths of twine. My one-of-a-kind Mayan statuette made it home in one piece (now there's an ad for Kotex protection!) and once installed in my Toronto living room, looked exotic, rare, distinguished, and not at all mass-produced.

The irony?
The piece is not unique, of course. In fact, on a day trip to Chichen Iza later that week, our bus stopped at a gas station/souvenir shop, and there was my Mayan lady, or rather, a dozen of my Mayan ladies, all lined up on the shelf beside the Doritos and Coca-Colas.

None of which matters when I look at her now, because I had learned a valuable lesson: what looks common or ordinary because you see it often or everywhere in another country, is exactly the kind of thing that looks exotic and unusual once you get it home. And if you liked it enough to negotiate for it in the first place, chances are it's worth it for all those reasons and more.

The Fact:
Bargaining is normal in many countries and many situations, and you shouldn't feel like you are taking advantage of anyone because you try to bring the price down. When I need to put my bargaining hat on, I always remember something that my uncle told me:
"No one will let something go for less than he needs to be paid, and nobody buys something for more than they are willing to spend."
So, decide what something is worth to you, and let that be your final price (with or without the hangover).

Bazaar Impressions of Egypt

The Art:
A coverlet from the Tentmakers' Bazaar in Cairo

The Story:
I think I put off going to Egypt for many years, despite my fascination with it, for one reason: I was intrigued with the world of Ancient Egypt, a world that hadn't existed for 5000+ years. To be honest, I didn't think that modern-day Egypt would impress me, and might, in fact, take away from my expectations.

Wrong-o.

On a two-week trip to this amazing country,  I saw two very different but equally fascinating Egypts (and I'm not talking Upper and Lower). Visiting ancient Egyptian sites is like walking into a History Channel's archaeological dig and discovering quiet, yet monumentally impressive evidence of a wealthy aristocracy long dead.

Modern Egypt, on the other hand, is the opposite: Cairo is loud, very crowded, and very much alive with over 9 million residents. Rural Egypt is poor, yet we met friendly and hospitable people who greeted us with smiles and invitations into their homes, however meagre by our standards.

It was this hospitality that impressed me most - even extending to something as everyday as shopping -  where having tea with the merchant when contemplating a purchase is considered the only civilized way to conduct business.

Unfortunately, I didn't allow enough time for these pleasantries when I set off to the massive bazaar in downtown Cairo. With only a limited amount of time to explore before meeting my tour mates to return to our hotel, I made my destination the Tentmakers' Bazaar, a covered medieval section of the market where shopkeepers sold a particular type of appliquéd textile I had read about, originally used to make tents (hence the name).

Two hours later, I found myself racing through the market, like the crazed foreigner that I was, hurrying to meet my friends at our rendezvous before they left without me. Lots of choices in the bazaar had meant lots of pots of tea, but I made it to the rendezvous point in time, bladder bursting, prize in hand.

Egypt today may not be the same as it was when I was there many years ago, but the lesson I learned is that pre-conceptions about a country shouldn't prevent you from visiting it. While it may be the past glories that attract you, it's often the beautiful things from the present that stay with you, too.

The Fact:
Unless you're really good with signs in foreign languages, (and it doesn't get more foreign than Arabic!), always carry the address of your hotel with you. Not all taxi drivers speak English, and in big cities like Cairo you'd be surprised how many Hotel Cairos there can be. Kind of like saying "I'm staying near the Tim Horton's."

Higher than a kite in Titicaca

The Art:
A hand-woven Chumpi belt from Taquile Island, Peru

The Story:

Although high altitudes are not for everyone (including my husband), we couldn't resist the opportunity to visit Lake Titicaca at 14,000+ feet, since it gave us the opportunity for a 'home stay' with a Peruvian family who live on one of the lake's remoter islands (Amantani). It also allowed us to visit its neighbouring island, Taquile, known world-wide for its textiles.

First of all, let's just say that watercraft operating at this altitude require a certain type of engine - not necessarily the most efficient or speedy - which in this case meant putt-putting across the lake in the marine equivalent of a greyhound bus.

But it's more than worth the diesel fumes to gain access to Taquile island.

We hiked our way up to the main square (hey, what's another couple of hundred feet when you're at 14,000), where we found men and women hanging out or strolling by in traditional dress, and several men knitting. In this culture, it's the men who knit, in particular their signature hats, which, depending on the colour or style, tell you who is single and who is married. Handy, that.

Even more informative are the 'chumpi' (calendar belts) which literally weave stories about everything from personal milestones to the best time to plant potatoes. In fact, these belts are recognized by UNESCO for their significance as a record of the oral traditions of the community and its history.

What we recognized was their beauty. So I chose one from the cooperative store, and once home, it seemed only fitting to display this Peruvian belt on the iconic Peruvian animal, the llama, which I have to confess, came from Homesense. But adding this belt certainly elevated this vignette to a whole new level. (Maybe not 14,000 feet, but I think it looks pretty good.)

The Fact:
Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world so if high altitudes make you woozy, you might want to think about staging your 'climb' slowly by visiting lower destinations first. Or consider bringing along altitude meds recommended by your travel doctor. In either case, if someone offers to help you with your bag, say yes, thank you, and save your breath to order a Mate de Coca tea, which is said to help you acclimatize as well. And no, it won't get you high.

Walking Into the Pink

The Art:
A photo at Lake Manyara, Tanzania

The Story:
When we arrived at our isolated campsite on the 'shores of Lake Manyara', my husband and I couldn't help be disappointed. Although we literally had the lake to ourselves, the 'lake' was non-existent. There wasn't a drop of water anywhere, and despite it's claim to fame, there was not one feather of the lake's thousands of flamingos to be seen.

Chalking it up to bad timing being the end of dry season, we figured we would make the best of it, as we met our Maasai guides who would be hosting us on several game walks around the area.
They assured us there were giraffe, zebra, and ostrich nearby, the evidence of which we did see that afternoon on our walk. Well, the digested evidence, at least.

That night while listening to the hyenas yipping, the weather changed, and the rain came. And came. To the point where stepping outside the next morning for a bathroom break also doubled as our morning shower. The campsite was now its own shallow lake, and we could have used the rubber tire-soled sandals the Maasai wore for the 30 yard trek to the dining tent.

Sheltered from the rain with our cups of tea and coffee in hand (serious kudos to our camp crew!), we watched as the sky began to clear. And with the clearing came a rumbling that wasn't thunder: dozens of zebras galloping across our shoreline, playing, nipping each other and jumping in the shallow water in front of us, as excited by the first rain as a bunch of 4 year-olds splashing through puddles on the sidewalk.

But it was when the mists finally cleared in the distance that we were truly amazed. From the furthest left to the furthest right that we could turn our heads, the entire horizon of Lake Manyara was a pink line.

Of flamingoes.

Thousands and thousands of pink flamingos, all feeding on algae released in the newly-replenished lake.

So off we went with our cameras, in a race to get close to the birds before the water, and the line of pink with it, receded out of reach of our lenses.

The lake, and its pink population, had not disappointed after all.

The Fact:
There are advantages and disadvantages to visiting Tanzania during wet or dry seasons. Like our flamingos, some wildlife is best viewed during the rainy season, but this can also limit the availability or accessibility to some camps and lodgings. (some hotels or lodges literally shut down for the month of April). So trust your outfitter to recommend when to go and where, and what to pack – they've done this before.

Truth or Dare, Roman Style

The Art:

A cheapo-bonito ceramic replica (left) of the Bocca della Verità in Rome (right)

The Story:
On my first ever visit to Rome, I wasn't exactly bilingual (knowing only four words of Italian: fart, hooker, soother and ass), so when the owner of a trattoria told my friend and I we must visit the 'Mouth of Truth', it required an English/Italian dictionary and a little deductive reasoning to figure out that this was some sort of Oracle from ancient times.

Lucky for us, it's not required that you be a vestal virgin to gain access to this soothsayer – La Bocca della Verità is easily accessible to anyone, situated 50 yards off one of the busiest streets in Rome in the portico of the Church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin. And once in the presence of this six-foot face, it is impossible not to want to test the gods and practice the ritual: stick your hand in the open mouth, and when asked a question, answer truthfully, or as legend has it, your hand will be bitten off.

Whether you believe this is nothing more than a 2000 year-old manhole cover, or a Seer of mythic proportions is a question of science or faith. But whatever you decide, one thing is true: La Bocca is only one of many examples in Rome where you can round a corner in this multi-layered historic city and find yourself face to face with the past. Literally.

As for whether you dare to tell the truth about your own past...well, that's up to you.

The Fact:
There's no better way to explore Rome than to wander off the busier streets. Not only will you find little hole-in-the-wall places to shop or have a coffee, you'll probably find that the prices are better if there isn't a famous fountain in view. Sitting down will cost you more, however, no matter where you go, but once seated, no one will hustle you out any time soon, so take advantage of what that little extra charge buys you - time to enjoy the Eternal City.

And Speaking of Art...

The Art:
Papier maché flamenco dancer

The Story:
One of the best backhanded compliments I ever received while travelling was when I was wandering around Córdoba, Spain, and found myself in a local artists' enclave where a handful of painters, sculptors and artisans worked and sold their art.

I spotted this beautifully stylized bust of a flamenco dancer in one of the studios, and went inside to admire the piece closer.

Being a working studio, the artist was there, so I struck up a conversation with him using a combination of rudimentary Spanish (feelin' cocky since I had been in Spain for all of a week) and Italian that I had learned when I lived in Rome years before. It turned out he was studying Italian, so the blind led the blind, and we talked about famous artists we liked, Canadian artists he hadn't heard of, how he had a business designing papier maché chandeliers for restaurants in the city, etc. Somehow we managed to butcher both languages sufficiently to make ourselves understood, and of course part of this exchange included my complimenting him on his work.

That's when I received a compliment from him in return: he told me that I spoke Spanish quite well, but with an Italian accent.
(This I found particularly funny, because I couldn't even speak Italian with an Italian accent!)

I purchased the piece, which was quite delicate and weighed next-to-nothing (apparently, 'fragile', 'cumbersome' or 'really heavy' are my go-to adjectives for anything I bring home) and every time I look at it, I'm reminded of what I love most about travelling: the satisfaction of being able to genuinely connect with someone from a different culture - even if our verb tenses get a bit messed up, or the accents aren't quite right.

For me, that is the greatest compliment of all.

The Fact: Córdoba is actually pronounced with the emphasis on the first 'o' and a 'v' sound for the 'b'. And if you think Córdoba is a test for your language skills, practice up your lisp for Barcelona (pronounced BarTHElona), where Spain's second official language, Catalan, is your next challenge!

Travelling in the Key of Life

The Art:
May 1969 National Geographic magazine cover.

The Story:
When I was 8 years old, I read this issue of National Geographic at the cottage where I spent every summer, and without knowing it then, the traveller in me was born.

Reading about the temples at Abu Simbel kindled a fascination with Egypt that exists to this day. It  captured my imagination and admiration for the engineers both past and present who took on the herculean task of first building and then 5000 years later, moving, these spectacular temples.

Determined to one day visit this incredible site, I waited more than 20 years before realizing that dream.


So when my tour bus pulled up to the temple grounds just after the crack of dawn, I wasted no time eating my boxed breakfast snack – I went straight to the temple door where I found this gentleman, about to open the greatest of all monuments to Ramses the Great with, you guessed it, an ankh.

That Key of Life ushered me into the dimly-lit interior of a pharoah's temple, where for half an hour, I sat with the entire place to myself, taking in the hieroglyphs and the colossal carved columns with only the sound of the odd bird flying into the chamber to break the silence.


It isn't often that the imagination of an 8 year old is exceeded by the wonder of reality.

Which is why, when I got back to Toronto, I scoured the used book stores on Yonge Street until I found this old magazine.  And I read it all over again.

The Fact:
After exploring the temple be sure to go inside the 'mountain' into which these transplanted rooms have been relocated. You'll see the temple has actually been reconstructed inside a concrete dome disguised to look like a rock face. 5000+ years of some pretty impressive engineering.

Charlie Brown in Zanzibar

The Art:
A folding beaded cowrie-shell mask from the Congo.

The Story:
When my husband and I went to Africa, I was determined to come back with a tribal mask of some sort. Nothing seemed to represent Africa more in my mind than these iconic symbols. So while wandering the labyrinth that is Stone Town, Zanzibar, we were invited into shop after shop filled with every imaginable type of 'authentic' treasure. Whether they originated from some remote Tanzanian village, or the factories of mainland China was anybody's guess - and half the fun - as we tested our bartering skills with the shopkeepers.

Always on the lookout for the outlier, I spotted this dusty mask forgotten in a corner of one shop, and picked it out. My husband thought I was nuts to consider this ugly duckling. "It's dirty and looks old - and there's a shell missing. Do you really want to pay money for that?"

I was reminded of what Charlie Brown said when choosing his tiny Christmas tree from the surrounding forest of shiny aluminum giants: "This little one here seems to need a home."

So it came home with us. And after I dusted it off, repaired the loose shell, and hung it on the wall,  even my husband had to admit that it 'looked better'.

When we got home, I Googled the mask. Turns out it probably comes from the Lele tribe in the Congo. We didn't even go to the Congo on our trip. But that didn't matter to me.

What matters is that every time I look at this mask, I see the twisted streets of Freddy Mercury's hometown, a pair of strolling Masaai warriors, and the smell of coffee coming from the cafe below our room.

Of all the shoppers in the world, I guess I'm the Charlie Browniest.

The Fact:
Stone Town, Zanzibar has a distinctly Arab influence, being a trade hub for centuries, and as one of the 'Spice Islands', it's a great place to pick up some saffron.

An Italian Time Capsule

The Art:
Although this may look like I unearthed it from some archealogical dig under Rome's subway LineaA, it's actually a small modern Etruscan reproduction I was given by an artist/potter I met in a little town outside of Rome called Sutri.

The Story:
I was looking for a gift that would somehow represent what makes Rome my favourite city: the fact that the past, the present and the future all live together simultaneously in this Eternal City.

While waiting for a bus in the tiny town of Sutri where I spent many weekends, I found this little pottery studio and struck up a conversation with the artist. He was a young man who had a great interest in the Etruscan culture which pre-dated the Romans, and had followed this passion to Sutri. Here he had taught himself to create meticulous reproductions of their pottery, using their original techniques, materials and equipment, including a single-haired foxtail brush he used for some of the finer painting. He would painstakingly create and decorate his pottery and then (heartbreakingly, I thought), purposely damage each piece, to give it that patina of age. I told him how impressed I was with his desire for authenticity, and his passion for history and art, which obviously struck a chord, because he insisted I take this home as his gift to me.

For me, it is the perfect little symbol of everything I love about Italy - it's a little old, a little new, a little damaged, and because of all of this, beautiful.

The Fact:
If ancient cultures interest you, Sutri is a relatively undiscovered and beautiful Etruscan archeological site only an hour outside of Rome. And the characteristic town is well worth the visit.