Even Hvar Won't Help Broken Heart

Yes, I'm in Croatia. I flew into Split from London. It was quick and I had no problems. There was bus waiting to take everyone into the town of Split. I immediately walked over to the ferry building and bought a ticket to Hvar. I knew the ropes having been here before. I only had to wait an hour and then an hour more I was in Hvar.

Hvar has changed greatly in four years. The rich have discovered it with their excessive amounts of money so the prices have gone up considerably. Fortunately they come in July and August, most of them leave in September.

The weather is still warm. It's a good time to come. I could bargain for a room with access to a kitchen for $16. The kitchen is a necessity because the restaurant prices are still exorbitant!

I met a local guy who fought in the war. He said you become an animal when you are at war. He committed atrocities. He didn't tell me what but he had to go to prison for it. He seemed like such a nice guy. He grew up here in Hvar and knows everyone. Many seemed to be his cousins. He took me out and I had a good time. I'm sure he will take me out again. He's good looking but no substitute for Emino.

Yes, Kachi will take me out again but I also met a retired Brit with a large pension. He said he couldn't spend it all so he's been taking me out.

I'm glad to have these diversions along with the great swimming. The water is perfect and feels really clean.

Patrick, the Brit, is leaving tonight. I guess I'll look for Kachi tomorrow. In the meantime I'm going for a swim

Corruption

In case some of you haven't been reading I will reiterate. I went to Turkey last April. For most westerners when you arrive in Turkey you pay $20 and you get a 90 day multiple entry visa, meaning you can go in and out of Turkey without paying any more. If you think you will go over your 90 days you leave the country and when you return you pay another $20 and that will be good for another 90 day multiple entry visa.

I knew from the beginning I would be going over so when I came back from Georgia I paid some passport border official $20. He gave me a receipt that said I paid on July 1st and it was good for another 90 days.

So on July 29th when I left Turkey to go back to the States I was shocked when the passport control officers would not let me leave the airport until I paid a $200 fine for overstaying my visa. They said that my receipt meant nothing. I did not have the correct stamp.

You know as an American I usually don't need a visa and if I do I get it at the airport or the border. I don't pay attention to what they put in my passport. I've been to over 60 countries and I have never had this problem, except, of course, when I worked illegally in Canada. (Someone told on me.) But I wasn't deported and I stayed awhile longer and never had a problem returning.

I was furious but what could I do my plane was leaving so I paid it. I thought that would be it, but no.

If you've been reading my blog you know that when I returned to Turkey the officials wouldn't let me enter. They forced me back on the same plane I arrived on. Literally forced, because I sat on the ground and they had to drag me. A love sick heart will make you do crazy things. Emino was waiting for me, wanting to make up, wanting me to stay indefinitely. I only planned to stay a couple of months and it wasn't just Emino I wanted to see but Lisa and all the other friends I had made. Like I said I've been to many countries and again, except for Canada, I never wanted so badly to go back and see the friends I had made.

I went to the Turkish consulate here in London. They said my receipt meant nothing and I should have known. Known what? Would any of you know you didn't have the correct stamp?

I've had to fill out forms, provide my bank account information, write a letter explaining what happened, and provide a letter of invite. Three people wrote me letters of invite, Lisa was one. The other two were Kurdish. I couldn't use those because the Turkish government hates the Kurds. They tried genocide in the 90's to get rid of them like they did the Armenians previously. They would like to do the same now but since Turkey wants to join the EC, much to their chagrin, they can't. Still they are heavily ostracized.

All this paperwork was sent to Ankara, the capital of Turkey. I was told it would take a minimum of six weeks before they would let me know if I am able to return. In the meantime I have a non refundable ticket back to the States on Nov. 2nd. I already used my ticket from London to Izmir, Turkey and all I saw was the inside of the plane.

This has cost me a small fortune. I thought when I came back all I would be paying for was my airfare since I would be staying with Emino and Lisa. Food costs would have minimal since Emino would be treating and Lisa charges me very little for eating at her restaurant in exchange for little work.

I miss Emino more than ever. I thought I was going to have all this fabulous sex. I need to do something fun to forget about my misery. I have six weeks to kill and I'm going for broke. I'm booking a flight to Croatia today. I have all these sundresses and no sun. You'll hear from me next from there.

Hostels

I have to write about hostels. All through Central and South America, all through Southeast Asia, India and Nepal I never stayed in a hostel. The places were so inexpensive I could always have a room to my own. The same goes for Spain, Portugal and Turkey but those came later when I had more money and could afford a room with a view, my own bathroom and breakfast.

In Eastern Europe and the former Yugoslavia I started to stay in hostels but only occasionally to meet young people and save on expenses so I could eat well. I would rather stay in some flee bag place as long as I can eat at some fabulous restaurant. Great food after hiking, biking or swimming comes next. I will go off topic here because eating well is very important to me. I would rather be hungry than go to some inferior place. I love food and I will read about, hunt down, observe and then check out even more places before I settle on the restaurant I feel worthy of my taste buds. One of my brothers, the one of two who are chefs can attest to that.

Warren and I were in northern Spain during a one day workers' strike. After literally trampsing around for two hours my brother says, "Should we eat here?" Here was a place where it looked like students were eating 'Spagetti - O's'. No way! An half hour later I had found the place. I have the place and our meal written down somewhere, but without those notes I still remember the cigar prawns and neither will my brother.

New Zealand has been the most expensive place I've been. The most expensive place I've had to pay for myself without friends, relatives or boyfriends to count on. Since food is so important I had to stay in youth hostels so I could afford the best.

I felt out of place when I stayed (and only once) at a youth hostel in Turkey. One young girl asked me what I was doing here. "Aren't you kind of old?" But in Eastern Europe and the Balkin States when I did stay at a hostel the young people seemed to think of me as some sort of sage. It just took a few years to go from weirdo to guru.

The first thing about hostels, which is on everyones' mind whose shares the multi bed room: Does anyone snore? Yes I have snored before but it is always because of a heavy night of drinking or I have a cold. In New Zealand I trekked so much the drinking was at a minimal. I pointedly asked my roommates at the hostels and they said they didn't hear anything from me.

I found this out in Solvenia. I arrived with no sleep in the middle of the afternoon. I took a nap and when I awoke a guy, who had just arrived, was putting his sheets on a mattress next to me (in Eastern Europe you sleep on mattresses on the floor like in a homeless shelter) He asks me if I snore. Some girls said, "No she's been sleeping and we didn't hear anything." That night he snored like a banchee and since he was in arms length of me I shoved him. I didn't want anyone to think it was me!

As I said this hostel was in Solvenia. It was a former prison. Now that I'm older and want a little more security I book the first night to my arrival. Everything else was up for grabs except for here in NZ but I'll get to that later. So I book my first night at this hostel and pay with my credit card. After everything goes through the hostel says that dorms are reserved for people under 25yrs. Hey I already gave you my CC # I think to myself. I email the hostel and tell them I'm an underpaid school teacher. The next day at school I check my messages while my second grade students are doing their "Do Now" an assignment they do every morning to basically keep them busy while I catch up do whatever. I have a message from the former prison and now hostel telling me I'm welcome to stay there. "Yeah! I blurt out, I get to stay in a prison. I get to stay in a prison! I get to stayyy." I stop. My second grade kids' mouths are all open. Most of their fathers are in prison. I had to explain.

As I said before I went from being weird to a sage. Youth hostels are for kids in their early 20's. Kids in their early 20's with raging hormones. Kids away from their parents. Here's what you can expect: I'm laying on my bunk bed. This particular bunk has a nice added touch - a little shelf where you can lay your book, your glasses, or an alarm clock. Since I'm laying down I can see under the shelf. Under the shelf is written: 'I had a quicky on this bunk and everybody heard.' This means the five other people who share the room with this person.

Besides the cost and meeting other young people I like that youth hostels usually have free videos to watch. The main thing that I like are the young people or people in general who are like you and love to travel. I always have much in common with them. We exchange views and travel tips. If you meet someone older I can guarantee that person will be hip. Of course that person could be me!

My Fate

Tomorrow I have my appointment with the Turkish Consulate. For the last two weeks there hasn't been a day or even an hour where I haven't been sick to my stomach. I have never in my entire life felt this way for so long. Really maybe a few hours and not more than a couple of days. All I needed to do is go for a run, ride my bike, or swim - maybe all three. I remember after one break up I did mini triathlons: run 6 miles, ride 60 miles, then swim 3/4 of a mile.

I can't do any of those things in London. But I'm beginning to like London. I would like it more if I had my bike. Still there are some great food markets here - really for those of you who think the London food scene stinks. Every Friday I go to the Borough market. I think every thing there is organic and high quality free range meats. There are a couple dozen food stalls where I always get a smoked courgette spread and an aubergine, walnut, pomogranite chutney. The wild boar sandwich is outrageous! On Saturday I go the the Clapham Hill market, more organic vegies and I bought a tiny chunk of cheese that set me back $10. It was worth it. On Monday I head to the Notting Hill market. I think it's the best as far as prices and there's a Spanish store with the cutest guy who turned me on to a delicious inexpensive red wine and an Iberico saucisson - Oh god!

I walk a lot to keep the weight down. I think my churning stomach burns off calories too.

Then there's the night scene. I keep that down because I can't afford it. But the ones I've gone to cost nil. I went with Elisabeth to a British Rubbish benefit. The 5 pound entrance fee went to the Marxist society. Talk about people who don't act their age. There were people who were definitely older than me acting silly - like dancing to punk rock music. This was right up my alley. A woman who sang jazz asked a audience member to accompany her with a tiny toy horn. It was hilarious.

I have to get this out because if I can't return to Turkey now and I have return to Podunkville I think I will seriously consider suicide. I thought about going to Croatia, but I can't go anywhere else and feel good. I won't sleep tonight.

That Kicked in Stomach Feeling

That's what I have. London is okay. I mean I could be stuck in Oklahoma City, but, of course, if I was, I would have already committed suicide.

Actually London is cool, as are my niece, Sierra, and her husband, Nick. My friend Elisabeth, who I met in Tbilisi lives here and I've enjoyed seeing her. The Tube is amusing. There are plenty of neighborhoods to explore. Explore but not buy. It's torture because there are the cutest clothes shops, charming pubs, hip wine bars, and restaurants I'm dying to try.

It's the cost. Even though I'm staying at my niece's and cook almost entirely at the house, it has still cost me about $50 a day. This is not counting the drinks my niece's husband bought, the wine at book club party, and the barbecue drinks. Yes, I have to have my wine but I shop for the best deals. The same goes for the groceries with a splurge thrown in here and there. I think the most expensive thing is the Tube transportation.

That's not why I have kicked in feeling. It's not knowing my outcome: Will I be able to go Turkey and if I can - when? What if I can't? What if I can next month? What will I do in the meantime? Where should I go? I absolutely do not want to go back to the States until at least November. I don't want to stay in London.

Then there's Emino. Because I can't see him. I am more desperate. I think he feels the same. It like high school when your parents told you you couldn't see such and such, which meant that was all you wanted to do.

As I've said my appointment with the Turkish Consulate isn't until Sept. 15th. I have three invite letters from Turkish friends. Lisa says she is going to the immigration office in my behalf. She's the greatest.

It all started in Oklahoma City

When I was 9 years old, my parents, brothers Frank and Warren, then 14 and 7, went to Corpus Cristi. All fine and well. On the way back to Missouri we stayed the night in Oklahoma City. My parents let us kids go see the movie, Grand Prix, with James Garner, which was showing near the motel. When the two cars crashed, during the movie, I became very upset and decided I was walking back to the Holiday Inn.

Did Frank care? He was suppose to watching me. Although knowing how I am, I'm sure I wouldn't listen.

It was dark and I got lost. I remember seeing a homeless person and that made me more upset, especially since I was lost. Luckily, a policeman spotted me and took me to the police station, where they called the two Holiday Inns in town. Now I can't believe there were actually two Holiday Inns in Oklahoma City. One would have been more then triple the amount needed for anyone unfortunate enough to have to stay there.

Anyway that brings me to this. Why me? Why do I always get in trouble? Well, of course, I bring it on myself some of the time, but other times I think, "What did I do to deserve this?"

On Mon. August 31st I flew to Izmir, Turkey. On the plane I met a wealthy man who was going to have his driver, who was meeting him, take me to Kusadasi. "How lucky I am," I thought. I wouldn't have to take a half hour shuttle to the bus station and then an hour bus ride to Kusadasi.

We arrive about 8:30 and by 9:00 I was back on the same plane going back to London. It was a nightmare. I couldn't believe it.

I'll reiterate what happened before. I came to Turkey in April and paid $20 for a three month multiple entree visa. I went to Greece, back to Turkey, of course, not paying the 20 bucks again, because it was within the three months.

I then went to Georgia and Armenia and back to Georgia before coming back to Turkey. This time I paid another 20 bucks because I knew my flight out of Turkey would be beyond the three months.

I was shocked, when at the Istanbul airport, that I had over stayed my visit. They would not listen or look at my papers that proved this. I had to pay a $200 fine. I thought they got a little bonus and should be happy.

So now I don't know why they wouldn't let me in. They already fined me, what more do they want? I went to the Turkish consulate here in London. I can't get an appointment until September 15th. I need a letter of invite from someone in Turkey. I'm asking every Turkish person I know and have addresses to for their help in this matter.

In the meantime I'm hanging out in expensive, drizzly London.