Photo Essay-ish: The Carnival That Cost Us An Arm And Leg... And Almost Our Marriage

A squabble escalated to a heated debate at a quaint guesthouse in Lima, Peru.

"Hell no! Two-hundred-freakin' dollars each?!", hubby delivered in his usual monotone but he was obviously upset.

"But we're already on the same continent and we'll be in Brazil during carnival season! It is no coincidence!", I was on the brink of tears. Okay, I might have actually cried.

We were merely choosing which sector in the Sambódromo (Sambadrome) we're booking tickets for, yet it felt like we were weighing our options for buying a house.

"Maybe we should just... Separate.", I was of course kidding. But this led to a series of petty quarrels.

"Grandiose" ain't enough to describe this parade.  

Fast forward a month later, on day 243 of our 2011-2012 round-the-world trip, that nasty joke brought us to the grandest parade on Earth. And you'd be surprised to know that I wasn't the one who ended up wearing a blue wig... Voluntarily.

Luna's look of embarrassment. Atop our overpriced 4-star hotel in Rio De Janeiro. Wait, everything's overpriced during the carnival.
 

Finally inside the Sambadrome! A stadium — more like, a vast runway — designed specifically to host the annual parade of samba schools during the Rio Carnival.

Sambadrome Marquês de Sapucaí, designed by renowned architect Oscar Niemeyer in 1984 (constructed in a record-breaking 110 days!), is a three-kilometer walk from our hotel Windsor Guanabara. Though ridiculously expensive in such season, the 4-star hotel was a wise choice because we didn't have to deal with the lack of public transport. We simply had to strut our way to the Sambadrome.

 The antsy crowd awaits.

I know, that's one looong strut. We didn't notice the distance, however, thanks to all the costumed Brazilians who we gaped at along the way. Also, the participating floats were lined up along our Avenida Presidente Vargas route. So every few meters we let out a bunch of oohs and aahs and swear words. 

Sufficient directional signs were placed on streets surrounding the Sambadrome. Finding respective entrances was easy, but because the stadium's colossal (length is about 700 meters), it still took us a while to get in. We arrived at Sector 5 about half an hour before eight in the evening. It was almost full and we managed to snag the last seats. 

The hubby fit right in the sea of multicolored wigs. For someone who blatantly opposed attending the carnival, he wasn't the least bit ashamed to order beer first and... To shake his booty when the pulsating samba rhythms blasted through the speakers.

 Carnival is held from Friday to Tuesday prior Ash Wednesday.

The origin of the word carnival is disputed. Some say that the word comes from the Late Latin expression that means "farewell to meat". And this expression is related to the tradition of Roman Catholics to abstain from meat on certain days during Lent.

Preparation for the carnival is a year-long affair. I once watched a documentary that followed the story of a samba school's porta-bandeira or flag bearer (a task which they believe is a gift from God). It showed the tedious rehearsal of swirling and waving the samba school's banner while dancing in uhm, weights disguised as a costume.

Portela is considered to be the oldest Rio samba group but not the oldest school. Won 21 times, an all-time record. On this float is the school's symbol, the eagle.
Each samba school parades eight floats. In between are groups of dancers (the "wing") wearing the same costume that illustrates a certain aspect of the school's theme. Tourists could join the parade for a fee.   Each samba school is given 90 minutes(!) to dance their way down the half-mile runway. With six samba schools performing each night, the show finishes in the morn.
Samba schools are judged in 10 different categories and winners are announced on Ash Wednesday.

Because one year and five month-old Luna was with us, we obviously didn't stay too long. We unfortunately left at one in the morn and strolled back to our hotel. We survived the insane party in one piece. And still married.

All that samba grooving made her thirsty.  

We may not have fully gotten our money's worth, but we got out of the stadium smiling (and our hips still slightly swaying). Hubby won't entirely admit it, but I know he's glad I pushed him with a threat. Ahhh, a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do.

Now how do I convince him to do this again someday.

 

 

Round-The-World 2011-2012, Brazil Leg:

Christ The Redeemer, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil: Vistas To Die For

Rio Carnival 2012: Party Tickets For Two And A Half

Cabo Frio, Brazil Holidays: That Thong-Tho-Thong

 

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In Sickness And In Stress

An eye infection, X-ray test for pneumonia, and high fever in the middle of the desert. Each a horror in its own right. When one of these happens to your toddler while on the road, it will surely make you swear off long term travel (though deep down you know you'll soon eat your words when the tot gets better).

You'll go to great lengths, as far as paying with your soul, just to find a cure. I know I did. Okay, maybe not the 'paying with your soul' part. Not yet.

1. Mongolia  

For one whole week we endured bumpy, unpaved roads (even the paved ones are a mess) aboard a hired badass Delica in the Gobi Desert with a European couple we met through Couchsurfing. And during the first five, Luna vomited everyday. Hubby puked on the sixth. The ride was that wild.

Not your usual stop in Gobi Desert.  

Then there's the infamous desert climate that seems to possess a multiple personality disorder — which was an entirely different challenge. Even with the lack of clothing, we sweat like pigs in our van-turned-sauna during the day. While at night, we froze like porkchops in our ger-turned-fridge.

So it wasn't surprising that on the fifth day, Luna contracted a fever. Thanks to our Mongolian driver Ganba, we found a hospital in one of the remote towns. The two-story hospital was as deserted as the Gobi. Luna was given pills that we had to slice in halves because it's too strong for her age, suppositories, and vitamins that looked like Airsoft pellets (which in my opinion should come with a "choking hazard" warning). We never gave her the pellets. I mean, the vitamins.

2. Laos

On our last days in Laos (where we traveled for three weeks last March), Luna had an eye infection and we were totally clueless where she caught it. A sign of such infection, by the way, is having a yellow watery discharge from the eye. Hubby and I searched for eye drops in a bunch of convenience stores but found none.

We were supposed to visit Pha That Luang the day before our flight out of Vientiane. We saved the best for last. However this didn't push through for we stumbled upon an ophthalmologist's clinic while we were walking towards it. The clinic's business hours run from 5:00PM to 8:00PM only, so we thought, might as well stick around and wait for it to open.

The ophthalmologist did not speak much English (he proudly mentioned that he speaks fluent French though) but managed to say "bacteria". Not a comforting word to hear but at least he seemed to know what's going on. He gave us three bottles of eye drops, and struggled to explain the doses. Cost us a whopping $20.

3. Turkey

Our limited time in Turkey (no thanks to my fifteen-day visa) pushed us to fly six times in two weeks. Every three nights we changed hotels. And we did sightseeing almost daily. Luna's health gave in after she climbed Pamukkale's "Cotton Castle" twice. The freezing water streaming down the travertines partnered with the strong gust of equally cold wind must have been the culprits for her cough-cold-fever combo.

 Intoxicating cocktail.

Five days after and about a thousand kilometers away from Pamukkale, our hostel's owner in Şanlıurfa walked the hubby and Luna to a public hospital. Şanlıurfa Province shares a border with Syria, and the culture is evidently more Middle-Eastern than European. Arabic is widely spoken and only a few people speak English. Suffice it to say that the owner Mustafa had to accompany them in the hospital to explain the situation.

Mustafa assured us that he "knows everybody". And true enough, even if Luna's a foreigner, she was given a free injection for her fever. The doctor prescribed about five bottles of meds and were surprisingly cheap. In case you missed it... Five bottles!

4. U.S.A.

Ahhh. U.S. Health Care System. Why on earth did we have to deal with you? Five wee hours of waiting in line with a baby who hasn't eaten nor drank the whole day. 

Okay, to be fair, the doctors were able to give her the right treatment. With just one pill, Luna started craving for milk in an instant (had that not worked, they would have given her the drip). We were never told what caused her loss of appetite.

Total damage... And I mean DAMAGE... Almost $700 + trauma. Closest we got to paying with our souls.

5. Brazil 

I've seen hubby cry only three times in our life together (he cried several times while watching Naruto but he was good at concealing tears). During a hospital visit in Brazil's one of 'em.

What caused our rush to the hospital: Luna's struggle to breathe from twilight to dawn.

At seven in the morn, we asked pharmacists in a drug store a few blocks from our hostel for a nearby hospital. They only spoke Portuguese. One of them pointed at their staff who was sweeping the parking lot and exclaimed, "Spanish!", as if it was the biggest light bulb moment in her life.

I took the directions in a language I barely understand, a language that the Brazilian actually barely speaks!

Bubba breaks down.  

Miraculously, we found the hospital after walking for more than a kilometer toward the town center. And as expected, nobody spoke English at the hospital's front desk. They were able to call in someone who does though and I couldn't tell if she's a nurse or a doctor or a beauty queen in costume from the way she's dressed. She was wearing an ensemble that's similar to a nursing student's white uniform, accessorized with huge, dangling gold earrings. She sashayed the hospital's hallways in five inch heels and chewed gum. Even with all the panic, the gum annoyed me in an indescribable way.

She served as our translator the whole time we were with the doctor. When he mentioned that Luna will undergo an X-ray test for pneumonia, hubby and I both silently broke down. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. Like, up there with giving birth and losing Luna in a department store for five whole damn minutes.

We picked up the result ourselves from the X-ray room then handed it to the doctor in his office. The translator soon followed. There was a quick conversation between the two, then we were told that the result was negative. Apparently, it was just too much mucus. Doctor gave us a prescription for meds then signaled with the classic Brazilian thumbs-up sign.


Have you been in a similar situation? If you don't have kids, have you had any serious health issues while on the road? How did you confront it?

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Christ The Redeemer, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil: Vistas To Die For

"Jeeezaz Chriiist!", the hubby muttered.

I couldn't think of any thing more apt to say.

It was day 242 of our round-the-world trip. We watched Jesus grew bigger and bigger as our bus hurtled its way to the tram station on Rua Cosme Velho. In the spirit of Brazil's Carnival, a bunch of passengers aboard were either donning hideous wigs or hair accessories adorned with feathers. The air smelt of alcohol. It was an unnerving festive sight.
 
The Christ of my dreams.  

Hurriedly, we hopped off the bus when we realized that more than half of the passenger population were alighting. As we stepped on the sidewalk, we were immediately swallowed by a wild river of tourists that flowed toward Cosme Velho's station and eventually ended up in a sea of cosplayers and drunks. It was the ticket counter's queue.

  View offered by the Corcovado tram.

"Jeeezaz Chriiist!", was also the hubby's reaction when he learned that the next available trip was in an hour and a half's time. Since we came all the way from Rio De Janeiro's business district via public transport filled with rowdy crowds, we resolved to waiting. And time was easily passed chugging Brazilian fave Skol at a nearby drinking joint.

Fight for your spot.
Our late afternoon foray to the tram was accompanied by a debate about buying a pair of Havaianas for little Luna. We rode in silence through Tijuca Forest until views unraveled through the window. At which point, some passengers rose from their seats to capture the stellar vistas with their larger-than-life SLRs. I did the same. Hubby fumbled in his pocket for the videocam, cautious not to wake a napping Luna draped on his shoulder.

Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon. Behind it, Ipanema.  

Upon disembarking, we were with faced two options. A 220-step stairs versus an elevator+escalator combo. Though backbreaking - and not exactly a beeline, we chose the arduous ascent because it showcased more views. And to the hubby's vexation, because it passes by more souvenir shops.

Pão de Açúcar or Sugarloaf Mountain.
The task of snapping shots without being photobombed required patience and skill. Every scenic nook and cranny had someone either posing in it or taking photo from it. Christ The Redeemer, the largest art deco statue in the world, is clearly not the sole attraction atop Corcovado mountain but also the bird's-eye view of Rio De Janeiro.

I got a love-hate relationship with the city, and I have to say, the "love" part includes its amazing topography.

The lowdown. What you don't see on postcards.    We climbed the last set of stairs. Luna awoke and gaped at the massive crowd. From the foot of the pedestal, Christ The Redeemer looked even more imposing with surprisingly soft features brought about by its soapstone mosaic outer layer. A remarkable work of engineering and art constructed in the 1920s. For me, without question, it deserves to be one of the "Wonders Of The World".

Rear view at sunset.

"Jeeezaz Chriiist!"

This time, his expression bore a tone of astonishment. And again, I couldn't think of anything more apt to say.

Trip's Nitty Gritty:

Can't remember where I stumbled upon this info, but I kept it for future reference.

 

1. How to get to Christ The Redeemer by subway and bus: Take the metro from any subway station in Rio De Janeiro to Largo Do Machado Station. Fare's about US$1.50. Bus stop is just outside the exit. Take bus #584 to Corcovado Train Station. Trip takes 15-20 minutes.

If you're coming from Copacabana or Ipanema, you could take bus #583.

2. Corcovado tram runs from 8:30 AM to 6:30 PM. Leaves every half hour and a one-way trip lasts about 20 minutes. If you wish to visit at sundown, come earlier to purchase tickets. Rides are sometimes fully booked because of big tour groups. Cost for round-trip is about US$40+. Ticket must be used on the same day of purchase. Free admission for kids under 6.

No can of olive oil was used during our trip.


Round-The-World 2011-2012, Brazil Leg:

Rio Carnival 2012: Party Tickets For Two And A Half
Cabo Frio, Brazil Holidays: That Thong-Tho-Thong
Brazil Tourist Visa Application In Lima, Peru

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2012 Year-Ender/World-Ender

Ahhh... 2012.

You are an ebullient homage to wanderlust. Frankly, I am quite obsessed with your ruffled months. In fact it's almost midnight and amid that end-of-the-world hullabaloo, here I am fondly sewing a patchwork of idyllic imagery to commemorate your flamboyance and purport. Now this may seem like a pathetic way of exiting the universe, but at least I dove in a vibrant flashback during my last minutes on earth. I get to utilize fancy words too.

Nope. I'm not drunk.

Shoot for Travel Blogging Calendar 2013. Shout out to the photographer, fellow Pinay travel blogger Claire of Lakwatsera De Primera. Not the actual photo on the calendar.

Speaking of dying, just last week an aunt of mine told me, "Dami mo nang napuntahan, pwede ka na mamatay." (You've been to so many places, you can die anytime now.).

"Eh... I'd like to see more. A lot more." I said. Then she went, "Hinde, pwede ka na mamatay!" (Nah, you can die anytime/now).  I thought to myself, if the planet doesn't blow up and claim my life, her statement probably will.

But yeah, I got her point. And 2012 is a testament to that. See for yourself how the universe spoiled us to bits this year.

1. Mexico

Clockwise from top left: 1. New Year's Eve dinner, mole! 2. Palenque Ruins. 3. A cenote (sinkhole) in Cancun. 4. Chichen Itza without the hubby and baby doll.

2. Peru 

Clockwise from top left: Watching penguins in the wild, Islas Ballestas. 2. Red Beach in Paracas National Reserve. 3. Machu Picchu. 4. The Tree, Nazca Lines.

3. Brazil 
 

Clockwise from top left: 1. Cristo Redentor. 2. Carnival at the Sambadrome. 3. The hubby bought his first pair of Havaianas (Luna's first pair too)! 4. Sexy Ipanema Beach.

4. Morocco 

Clockwise from top left: 1. Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca. 2. Ancient Roman City Volubilis. 3. Sahara Desert. 4. Ait Benhaddou, Ouarzazate.

5. Vietnam 

Clockwise from top left: 1. Street art somewhere in Pham Ngu Lao District, Ho Chi Minh. 2. Pho! 3. After wriggling through the tunnels of Củ Chi. 4. Saigon Notre-Dame Basilica.

6. Mongolia 

Clockwise from top left: 1. Tsagaan Suvraga, Gobi Desert. 2. Two kilometer trek to Yolyn Am. 3. Inside our Couchsurfing host's ger in Ulaanbaatar. 4. Khongoryn Els Sand Dunes.

7. Russia
 

Clockwise from top left: 1. Aboard the Trans-Siberian train, skirting the world's oldest lake. 2. Luna dons her first down jacket. 3. Nizhny Novgorod. 4. St. Basil's Cathedral, Moscow.

8. Philippines

Clockwise from top left: 1. Dasol, Pangasinan. 2. Liwliwa, Zambales. 3. Gubat, Sorsogon for the Book Sharing Project. 4. Tondol Beach, Anda, Pangasinan.

9. Singapore 

Clockwise from top left: 1. With Singapore-based Filipino bloggers. 2. Ze sister's birthday. 3. Second overseas trip with the 'rents. 4. Harry Potter Exhibit.

10. Australia

Clockwise from top left: 1. Dee Why Beach. 2. Luna's play date with Justice and Mayor. 3. Meet up with Pinay travel bloggers. 4. Catching up with Persian in-laws.

11. Indonesia

Clockwise from top left: 1. Sanur Beach. 2. Luna tramping on an Ubud rice field. 3. Fourth anniversary of togetherness, Bali's Uluwatu temple. 4. First time checking in a boutique hotel.

12. East Timor

 Clockwise from top left: 1. Maubara Fort. 2. Third year wedding anniversary spent volunteering for Academy of Swimming Education East Timor. 3. Dollar Beach, Manatuto. 4. Cristo Rei, Dili.

And then some. 

Paying it forward. Left: Participated in the Book Sharing Project for the benefit of Rizal Elementary School in Gubat, Sorsogon. Right: Posed for the Travel Blogging Calendar 2013. Sales of the calendars will be donated to Mitrata Nepal and VSO Bahaginan. Purchase one now! Visit http://www.travelbloggingcalendar.com/
So do you think I can die any time now (Gulp.)?  How was your 2012, fellow travel junkie?
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Rio Carnival 2012: Party Tickets For Two And A Half

It was chaos around the brekkie buffet table at nine-ish in the morn. Fellow guests have awoken late as well and were zombie-walking their way out of the lift and into the restaurant. No alcohol was served but the room smelled like it. We thrashed our way through the befuddled crowd and heard murmurs of "sorry" and "desculpe" when plates crashed each other.

Festive mood inside Escola Técnica De Turismo.
A plethora of different kinds of bread and cheese were laid on the spread. Hubby and I felt like kids in a candy store. We thought, finally there's something to be excited about Windsor Guanabara Hotel (I reckon this hotel does not do justice to its four star status and its soaring price during carnival). Before heading back to our table in the farthest corner of the floor, we scooped some scrambled eggs, ham, and sausages. That lousy, cold sandwich dinner bought from a nearby fast food joint left me craving for a hot meal the whole night.


Most expensive hotel room we stayed in, this round-the-world trip. Or make that, ever. Does not even have a flat screen telly. No WiFi either.
Swiftly, we emptied our plates. Although we were still feeling slothful after that trip from Cabo Frio the day before, we dragged our arses back to our room after brekkie and readied Luna's daypack for the long day ahead. The possibility of seeing Christ The Redeemer up close on day 243 of our round-the-world trip gave us a bit of a jump start. But first things first, we had to pick up our Rio Carnival tickets.


Human traffic starting to build up. View from Windsor Guanabara Hotel's rooftop.
The street party just across the hotel along Avenida Presidente Vargas was already pumping. Samba and Brazilian hip-hop blasted through speakers here and there. Beer was overflowing, metaphorically and literally. We stood transfixed for a moment. The carnival has officially begun. I cautiously plucked our camera from my pocket, perfectly concealed by my sundress. Discretely I snapped photos. We're well aware of Rio De Janeiro's high crime rate (most of it is drug related, though I don't think that's a comforting thought either), and we sure didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention.


"Uhm, which direction?"
We weaved through undoubtedly the biggest party on Earth, past merrymakers and drunks and tourist hordes. But nope, we weren't ready to swig cans of Skol and Antarctica yet. It was our goal to stay sober the whole day, or at least until we've safely transported the tickets from Escola Técnica De Turismo to our hotel room. Losing tickets that cost an arm and a leg and sanity (and almost our uhm, marriage) will certainly lead to full on depression.


Modest signage but you won't miss it.
Good ol' Google Maps predicted a 21-minute walk from our accommodation in Rio De Janeiro's Centro, to Escola Técnica De Turismo on Rua das Marrecas via the shortest route. It took us about forty minutes to get to our destination. Obviously Google Maps ain't programmed to accurately calculate transit time during Carnival with human traffic factors like gyrating women and cosplaying men.


Queue may be long but the actual transaction took a jiffy.
Inside Escola Técnica De Turismo we were greeted by a long line. Waiting wasn't a pain though for we were entertained watching fellow tourists learn the basics of samba. Yes folks, there was a hot Brazilian lady teaching such dance for free inside the room. We were called forth by a staff to cut the line cause we were with a child. The whole shebang (short one-on-one briefing included) took less than ten minutes. Hubby purchased our tickets beforehand via www.rio-carnival.net (while we were shacking in El Zaguan B&B Miraflores, Peru), and the release of tickets only required IDs.

Party tickets for two and a half.
I was enveloped with sheer delight as we headed out to the street once again. In my hands were our golden tickets to the Chocolate Factory except we're not actually going to the Chocolate Factory but to the Sambadrome. That grand parade I had been fantasizing about (since I saw a Rio Carnival documentary on National Geographic) was within reach at last. I became the happiest, sober chick in town.

The dawn of my obsession.

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Round-The-World Vagabonding: Our Ten Fave Temporal "Homes"

A solar-powered guest studio in the middle of the forest, an artist's cabin in a trailer park by the beach, and a Moroccan riad with an unobstructive view of a UNESCO World Heritage listed ksar... These are a few of our awesome accommodations during our 280-day round-the-world vagabonding. One night, one week, one month. It didn't matter how long each stay was. We converted every hotel, hostel, Couchsurfer's house, bed and brekkie, into our temporary home any way we could.

Home, after all, is where the heart is. Not where our worldly possessions are gathered and displayed to collect dust.

I couldn't count how many places we checked in and out of, to tell you the truth. But I could certainly point out our top ten fave "homes". So which are these and why they made it to the list?

1. Solar-powered guest studio in the middle of Mullumbimby's forest, New South Wales, Australia. It's owned by a Couchsurfer who lives in a bigger, wooden house just fifty meters from the studio. Our ol' beat up, borrowed car named "Gumby" puffed its ascent through narrow muddy road to get there. Gumby was praised by our host as we drove in her property, "The little car made it!".


In this studio, we were able to experience living off solar power and rain water for the first time with our baby Luna. Cost: Family travel stories shared over candle-lit dinner + dishwashing work.

2. An artist's cabin in a trailer park by Tallow Beach. Suffolk Park, New South Wales, Australia. Luckily found the owner's ad online. Cabin is filled with paintings, art books, meditation CDs, and a full kitchen with bottles of my fave Mediterranean spices. It has a front porch ideal for uhm, spacing out.


Australian water dragons lurk around, however. Which made raking dead leaves in the backyard an annoying task. Cost: AU $230 a week. Better value than staying in a hostel.

3. Hotel Sierra (Which I think is now named Hyatt House), an "extended stay hotel" located in the heart of Silicon Valley's Golden Triangle. We felt like high rollers for a month in this one. Serviced by cheery Mexican housekeeping ladies who chitchatted with me whenever they're in our room. Hotel's American brekkie buffet's got so much choices (Wednesday's bacon day!).


Celebrated our second wedding anniversary here. Cost: Free. Company provided, thank goodness.

4. Jade Guesthouse, Colonia Santa María la Ribera, Mexico. Guesthouse owned by a lovely French family. The parents once lived and worked in the Philippines. Only two beautifully decorated rooms are rented out, in a separate building at the courtyard. There's no wall between the bedroom and the bathroom. Perfect for honeymooners.


Kitchen is on a rooftop that does not have... (Gasp!)... Railing. Cost: M$330 per night on weekdays, M$350 on weekends.

5. Hotel Regional, Palenque, Mexico. Although we're not too pleased with their jungle-themed rooms, we're huge fans of the hostel's owners. The Mexican owners who speak limited English, invited us to the New Year's Party they organized for their workers. We felt how the staff loves them back.


They didn't love us the same, unfortunately. We were charged more than the published rate. Maybe cause of the toddler? Cost: M$350

6. Hotel Zaguan B&B, Lima, Peru. Just a few blocks away from the center. Friendly receptionist (The smiliest guy I ever met!), good breakfast. Coffee all day.


The room has an adjacent pocket garden and roofed porch. Cost: US $40

7. Hostal Inti Wasi, Cusco, Peru. A colonial house built in the late 16th century that has been restored. Our room was surprisingly spacious, and we got a balcony with a view of the cathedral in Plaza de Armas.


Receptionist served us coca tea when we arrived to help prevent altitude sickness. A warm welcome after a six-hour bus journey from Puno, where Lake Titicaca is located. Cost: 145 Peruvian soles.

8. Pousada Tatuapura, Praia Do Forte, Brazil. Most posh (And prettiest!) resort we stayed in. Was forced to reserve a room here cause the cheaper ones were all booked out for the carnival. There's a pool, jacuzzi, and a children's room full of toys.


Did not extend our two-night stay. Cost: Would rather forget.

9. Our Moroccan-Rastafarian Couchsurfing host's apartment in suburban Sale, Morocco. His humble abode decorated with incense sticks, woven rugs, plush pillows, and Tibetan flags radiates with good vibes. Our host taught me how to prepare quick and cheap Moroccan meals. He and hubby also strummed House of the Rising Sun after dinner on our first night.


The long-ish travel from Rabat's city center was worth it. Cost: Luna's smiles and hugs. Host loved her!

10. La Fibule d'Or, Ait Ben Haddou, Morocco. Favoritest of them all! A riad with an unobstructive view of UNESCO World Heritage Site Ait Ben Haddou which is a ksar that sits on the old Sahara-Marrakech caravan route. The owner of the auberge starred in some films shot here.


Breakfast is served on the rooftop terrace. Cost: US $28 for a room with ensuite bath. Plus window's got a view of the ksar.

How about you fellow travel junkie? Where is your fave temporal home?

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