Travel Archives - Maggie InkMaggie Ink

The Hammam Experience That Made Me Rethink Trust

November 26, 2024

The hammam I chose in Cappadocia was a random pick. I went with the one boasting the highest Google reviews, tucked away in the next town over. A taxi took me there, winding through the dusty, alien-like landscapes of the region. As we pulled up, I was excited about this quintessential Turkish experience.

But almost immediately, things started to feel … off.

A man greeted me and explained the various spa packages. I told him I just wanted a basic Turkish bath. Then this man hesitated and told me the therapist wasn’t available — he was in the hospital.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “We have another location just a couple of minutes away. I’ll take you.” My anxiety bristled. I voiced my concern, but he waved it off with a smile. “Trust me. It’s close.”

What would you do?

I don’t know why I agreed, but minutes later, we were in his truck, driving to the other spa. I paid up front, and the same man from the previous location discounted the price I had been quoted. He gave me a cup of tea and mentioned throwing in some complimentary treatments.

“No extras,” I insisted. “Just the bath.”

Inside the warmth of the hammam, my mind refused to settle. What was his angle? When the therapist moved on to the bonus treatments I’d explicitly declined—a body wrap and a face mask—my panic spiraled: Why the change of location? Is this a setup? Did he drug my tea?

By the time I finished and changed into my clothes, my suspicions were on high alert. And then came the clincher: the man offered to drive me back to my hotel. This is it, I thought. This is where the story turns dark.

In an unknown part of town, far from the taxi stands, I accepted the ride. I gripped my phone tightly, and turned on Google Maps to monitor every twist and turn. My anxiety ran wild: What if he takes a detour? What if he’s kidnapping me? When he slows down for a roundabout, should I jump out of the truck?

When we pulled up in front of my hotel, I braced myself for the shakedown. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened Google Translate. My heart thudded as I waited for him to type. Finally, he handed it to me.

He had written: “You have such a high energy and always a smile on your face. You seem like a good person, and I am grateful for your visit. I only wish you the very best in life.”

So then I realized I’m an asshole.

I replayed the tape in my head and saw that at every turn, this man had shown kindness and hospitality. He discounted my fee, shared tea with me, ensured I got back safely, and even offered well-wishes. But I had been too busy scrutinizing every move to appreciate any of it.

Maybe it’s living in the U.S. that’s made me so wary of generosity. Or maybe the pandemic eroded my trust in people. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t always this cynical. I used to believe people are inherently good, and I want that part of me back.

What needs to change

I want to be clear: I’m not advocating for throwing caution to the wind or taking unnecessary risks. It’s important to stay aware, especially since I often travel solo.

But I also recognize that somewhere along the way, a switch flipped for me. A few years ago, I shifted from being open-hearted to more fear-based in how I see the world. And my hammam experience made me realize how much that can hold me back.

It’s not just about staying safe; it’s about how anxiety has started to shape my experiences. It keeps me from enjoying the moment, from connecting with people, from having those authentic exchanges that make travel so meaningful. And if I’m not doing that — if I’m just moving through the world with my guard permanently up, anticipating the worst-case scenario — what’s the point?

I want to find my way back to a more balanced perspective, one that lets me stay mindful of risks but doesn’t let fear take the driver’s seat. To meet the world with curiosity instead of suspicion. That’s the part of me I want to nurture again.

In the years to come, I want to meet life with a softer heart, to lean into kindness instead of questioning it. To welcome the unknown—not with suspicion, but with openness. Because sometimes, the world really is as warm as a cup of tea offered by a stranger.

Oh, the Places We Stayed: Antigua, Guatemala

June 23, 2024

My toxic trait is that when I’m on an extended trip, I can’t commit to just one hotel. I’d rather Goldilocks my way around a city, getting a feel for different neighborhoods and various styles of accommodation.

For our trip to Antigua, this was compounded by the fact that I waited too long to book, so some places were only available for one night. I also had us leaving the city mid-trip to camp out on a volcano, and we returned during a busy holiday, which complicated some of our bookings.

The good news is that I have a lot of great places to recommend. Here goes:

Porta Hotel Antigua

After an abysmal Airbnb at Lake Atitlán that we abandoned after one night (more on that in another post), this was our luxury splurge. We stayed two nights in a deluxe garden room, and it was worth every penny. The entire site was decked out for Christmas, and the festive atmosphere felt pretty magical.

Plus it was just around the corner from a wonderful fair trade shop, and E loved the playground.

Earth Lodge

Earth Lodge is an eco paradise nestled in the lush mountains, boasting the best views anywhere. It was easily the most “me” place we stayed in Guatemala.

The accommodations at this boutique resort include private tree houses and cabins on an organic avocado farm. We stayed in the El Sueco tree house, built around an oak tree that grows through the floor and climbs through the roof. The loft bed offered the best sleep I had during the entire trip.

Just a short drive from Antigua, Earth Lodge strikes the perfect balance of rustic and luxury with delicious farm-to-table goodies, yoga, traditional Mayan sauna, massages, and more. I highly recommend hanging out in one of the hammocks and doing nothing at all. This is a place I would return to in a heartbeat.

Cacao Boutique Hotel

A romantic and stylish hotel with just six rooms for an intimate feel. Also it’s located on the outskirts of town, so it was quiet and peaceful. (If you’re looking to be immersed in the heart of Antigua, this isn’t it. But it’s within safe walking distance of town.) Our stay was far too brief, because we had to leave extremely early in the morning for our volcano trip.

Casa Santo Domingo

I knew I’d need a dose of luxury after camping on a volcano, so I booked one night at Hotel Museo Spa Casa Santo Domingo. (Prices were higher than normal because it was Christmas Eve, but I deliberately chose a room with a fireplace so Santa could pay a visit.)

The five-star property is built among the ruins of a 17th-century convent, largely destroyed during an earthquake in 1773. Lovingly restored, the bones of the original structures are still visible among the modern buildings.

The gorgeous museum on site boasts multiple galleries, including Indigenous art, Spanish Colonial art, and archeological finds. (Many tourists visit just for the museum, but as hotel guests, we had access to more art tucked away all over the property.) The hotel also includes the aforementioned spa, a couple of restaurants, and a chocolate museum. And my favorite amenity of all: a station with complimentary coffee just outside the door.

My other favorite thing was that after wandering the empty corridors of artwork and priceless displays, Everest whispered, “Mom, this is our Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler moment,” referring to the beloved E.L. Konigsburg book where runaway siblings stay the night in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It made an already memorable stay feel a little more thrilling.

Hotel la Galeria

I was originally so excited to share this place with you. This place was very comfortable and clean, great location, excellent bed and shower, budget price. We checked in late at night and had to leave right after breakfast, which made me genuinely sad — I wanted to stay longer. Then I received a WhatsApp message from the front desk clerk that accused us of breaking a lamp in the room and requesting an additional payment. We didn’t break a lamp, so I asked a hotel manager to show me the lamp in question. She said it had been sent out for repairs, but she showed me a photo of a broken lamp. Because I’m a weirdo who takes photos of every hotel room as soon as I enter, I knew the broken lamp had never been in our room — the one in the photo wasn’t similar to ours at all.

The manager finally said she wouldn’t charge us, but this soured what had been a good experience. Afterward, I found reviews that said other guests had issues with unusual or unexpected charges.

Of note

We didn’t stay at Good Hotel, but I really liked the aesthetics of it, and I appreciate their mission of doing good by investing in the community. They don’t allow children in the hotel, however, so we were unable to stay. If you’re traveling without kids, this one is worth a look.

Looking for things to do? I’ve put together a few recommended tours here through Viator. If you book any of those, I earn a small commission.

My dad died, and then I climbed a volcano and adopted a dog

March 16, 2024

My dad died three months ago. I haven’t found the words to write about it, and I don’t know if I ever will. Some painful things surrounded his death; I’m having trouble sorting through that.

So here are some things that are not entirely related to that loss but not entirely unrelated either.

• I began attending a Death Cafe a few months before my dad died. It’s a place where you can go to talk openly and honestly about death, a topic that’s often taboo. I knew my dad’s life was coming to an end — although I didn’t expect it to happen as quickly as it did — and I wanted to approach it from a healthier place than when my mom died.

I told the group about a picture book my son has, in which a fox is hit by a car and runs into the woods to die, the animal’s body then feeding the earth and other creatures. In this book, death is not an ending but a continuation. It’s a vital part of life.

• Shortly after my father’s death, I climbed Acatenango, a dormant volcano in Guatemala that is joined with Fuego, an active volcano.

My family camped there overnight and sat around a fire as the earth shook, nearby Fuego belching black smoke and fire into the air. Sometimes a rain of ash followed, soft and fine as talcum powder. Other eruptions covered us in soot. I relished that violence, the topsy-turviness of it. Everything seemed upside-down, the black rocks falling from the sky.

Meanwhile, my son saw hearts in the smoke.

• I used to have dreams that my teeth were falling out. Dream interpretation books told me this symbolizes a recent loss or transition. The night I returned from Guatemala, it actually happened in real life. One of my molars crumbled on New Year’s Eve. It was a loss I couldn’t fathom until it happened, a pain I thought I somehow deserved.

• We went to the animal shelter to meet a dog named Milo, but another dog, a mellow, slow-eyed puppy, caught our attention instead. I fell for her immediately. “Let’s wait and think about it,” said my 9-year-old.

That night, my son confessed he was still bereft over the loss of grandpa, and he didn’t want to risk loving anything else that might die. I explained that’s what love is. It’s the everyday bravery of making your heart tender. It’s knowing that you’ll feel pain and loving anyway.

The next day we adopted the dog.

• I had a massage recently and sobbed on the table. The therapist was afraid she had hurt me, but the hurt was already there. She only released it.

The ultimate Christmas activity: Learning to make candy canes

December 10, 2023

When we talked about the upcoming holiday season, there were plenty of activities to put on our calendar: Light parades, breakfast with Santa, baking cookies, ugly sweater parties, touring neighborhoods with decorated houses.

But my 9-year-old wanted to do something entirely different. He wanted to learn how candy canes are made.

It was a humble request, but it seemed about as possible as making reindeer fly. Where in the world would I find a place to make candy canes?

Turns out I didn’t even have to go to the North Pole. Logan’s Candies, a small, family-operated shop in Ontario, California, has been hand-making candy canes since 1933. Tickets to attend a candy-making demo are just $5 per person.

Nearly everything about the process has remained the same since 1933: Same recipe, same stove for boiling sugar, same marble block for pulling and stretching the candy.

Even sweeter than the candy were the kids, pressing their faces against windows to watch the seemingly magical process.

Owner Jerry Rowley stretched and pulled the warm sugar until it turned stark white.

Then he added stripes of color, used to achieve their signature candy cane look.

Afterward, everyone received a warm candy cane to shape however they wanted. We opted to make hearts, since ours were so full.

If you go

Logan’s Candies is located in downtown Ontario, 125 W B St, Ontario, CA. Street parking was free.

When: The shop does candy-making demos year-round. This time of year is more crowded and chaotic, but it would be a fun activity for someone who enjoys Christmas year-round or for celebrating Christmas in July.

Also good to know: The shop sells 31 flavors of homemade ribbon candy, and it’s also home to the world’s largest candy cane!

Survival Guide to Universal Studios Hollywood: Everything We Did (and Wish We Had Done)

November 13, 2023

Planning a family trip to Universal Studios Hollywood felt like a Choose Your Own Adventure where every option was somehow the wrong choice and would lead me toward doom.

To spend hundreds of dollars for one day at the park, but skip the ride lines, turn to page 17.

To spend slightly less and get a nine-month pass to the park, but waste your one wild and precious life waiting in all the lines, turn to page 23.

We opted for the latter. Instead of trying to cram everything into one day, I figured we could go a few times and focus on a different area each visit. Even though this meant we’d have to wait in line for the rides, it wouldn’t matter as much, since we wouldn’t be on a tight timeline. And who knows? I thought. Maybe we’d luck out and there wouldn’t be any lines.

Alas, that was the strategy of a much more naive version of myself — the Maggie I was before I waited 2.5 hours to get on Mario Kart: Bowser’s Challenge.

Here’s how the day went, where we went wrong, and what I’ll do next time.

What it costs

That’s not so easy to answer. Regular tickets start at $109, two-day general admission tickets start at $159, express passes start at $209, and various other passes go from $179 to $639.

Why do I keep qualifying that with “start at”? Because the price varies wildly by day. Peak times, like weekends, holiday breaks, and more desirable days are significantly more expensive. So while I tried to find that elusive $109 ticket price, it never aligned with our work/school schedule.

Instead, I found a discount on the nine-month California Neighbor Pass, bringing it down to $150/per person. That is still expensive, but I can justify the cost by making multiple visits.

Note: I don’t want to tell you how expensive parking is. I can barely admit it to myself. But you should know that parking is my second-least favorite thing to pay for, because it’s just GROUND that my car is borrowing. Stupid.

Food and beverages

That brings me to my least favorite thing to pay for: Water.

Thank goodness Universal Studios allows you to bring in refillable water bottles. (Maximum of two liters).

The regulations also say you can bring snacks and small food items, and I did that too. But I didn’t bring enough. Later I saw people pulling hoagies the size of Buicks out of their backpacks, so I could’ve packed more substantial items. Next time.

Instead, we ate at Three Broomsticks in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I had the vegan shepherd’s pie, which was food. It kind of looked like someone started to make shepherd’s pie, then got tired of it halfway through.

Everest plowed through whatever he ordered — a platter of cabbage and mashed potatoes and tomatoes and sausage and peas and some spare change, I think. Jason had a salad, which he regretted because he hates salad, so I’m not sure why that order was ever made.

The real winner was butterbeer, something I’ve wanted to try ever since I first read Harry Potter. It was delicious, like a butterscotch cream soda, and I think I could happily live on a butterbeer-only diet. It would be a short life, but a satisfying one.

The rides

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an amusement park, so I had forgotten what it feels like to wait in line for a ride. And everything in the new Super Nintendo World required a wait. We waited in line to enter that section of the park (sometimes there’s a virtual queue, but it wasn’t an option when we visited). Then we waited 2.5 hours for the Bowser’s Challenge ride. We waited for the interactive games. We were about to wait in line for photos with Mario, but Mario went on a break. Bless you, tiny plumber.

There was another ride in the Super Nintendo World area, but I could actually feel my soul leaving my body, so at that point we left.

Then we waited 45 minutes to ride Revenge of The Mummy.

Later, we waited for the Flight of the Hippogriff ride.

That’s it. THREE RIDES. But those three experiences topped our priority list for the day, and we accomplished that.

The other stuff

Yes, I visited Ollivanders Wand Shop. I was curious how it would compare with what I imagined long ago, when I first read the Harry Potter series. And it was, in fact, pretty darn magical.

The whole point

A few months ago, Everest said he wanted to ride his first roller coaster, and I wanted E to love roller coasters the way I do.

I remember going to King’s Island with my family when I was growing up — devouring hot, greasy funnel cakes, posing for keychain photos in front of a fake Eiffel Tower, riding the Beast and then hurrying to get back in line — those are some of my most treasured memories.

That was the impetus for this Universal Studios trip. The exhilaration of being THIS TALL TO RIDE, the lap restraint pressed a little too tight, the click-clack of cars chugging up a steep hill, and finally, taking flight.

I wanted to give that to my child.

Well, he hated it. On the two coasters, Everest clutched my hand until my fingers turned blue. He murmured, “No. No. NO.” His eyes were as big as saucers, and those saucers were full of terror.

So he’s not a roller coaster kid. At least not right now, and that’s fine. It just means that when we return to Universal, we’ll be the folks enjoying the shows instead.

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