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.

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!

My Necklace Took a Trip of Its Own in Zanzibar

September 3, 2023

After one night resting up in paradise, it was time to leave the tranquil Pongwe area for my next stop on Zanzibar, the livelier village of Paje.

But first, a massage.

I’ve said before that I don’t take time to relax when I travel, and that goes for spa treatments too. Even though I love massages, unless I can squeeze it into something I’m already doing, (like getting a massage during the night markets in Thailand), it’s not a priority.

So that goes to show just how wrecked I was after climbing Kilimanjaro: Relaxation became top priority.

The massage therapist, Margaret, gave me a few minutes to undress, and I folded my clothes onto a nearby chair before I eased myself onto the table. At this point, my calf muscles seemed permanently clenched. There were knots in my back. My body was speckled with bruises and sunburn.

The moment Margaret pulled my hair away from my neck and put her hands on me, I audibly groaned with relief.

She paused for a moment and touched the chain around my neck. “May I remove this?”

I had totally forgotten about the necklace. I wear it every day and never remove it, so it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Nodding, I told Margaret to go ahead. She unlatched the chain and showed me where she was placing it, atop my pile of clothes.

As the massage proceeded, my mind wandered to other things. Like, wow, this woman works miracles and I hope my toenails don’t fall off in her hands. And finally, I have to pee.

I had to pee so bad. This is why I am bad at relaxing. Because I cannot regulate my beverage intake well enough to go 90 minutes without a bathroom break. Suddenly a toilet was all I could think about, and I willed the massage to be over as fast as possible.

Relief

The moment Margaret left the room, I yanked my clothes off the chair and dashed for the restroom, which was connected to the massage room. Afterward, relieved, I got dressed, walked out the door, tipped Margaret, and left.

I didn’t even remember the necklace until I was in Paje, more than an hour and a $50 taxi ride away.

Any stress that had dissipated during the massage returned and hit me with a wallop.

My necklace. I couldn’t think of anything else in my life that was at once so worthless but also so precious. I’d purchased the necklace in Greece, just a few nights after my emergency surgery in Athens. It was a tiny evil eye, smaller than my pinky fingernail, and it hung on the most delicate silver chain.

Fresh off a medical issue, I wanted an evil eye for protection. A talisman. But it also served as a beautiful reminder of Greece, the place that lives in my heart. I’d worn it every day since.

Maybe I could find something close, I thought, and scoured the internet. Somehow there were approximately 78 million evil eye necklaces on the world wide web, and none of them were similar to mine. I remembered how my family and I walked through dozens of tourist shops until I found the perfect one — and when we found this necklace, it was just 15 Euros. It was the only one like it.

Even if I could find another, this one was irreplaceable.

Lost and found

I messaged the hotel on WhatsApp, but I didn’t have much hope, because I didn’t even know if my necklace was there.

I assumed that when I yanked the clothes off the chair, I launched the necklace somewhere. But where? What if it fell behind something? Or what if another client picked it up? What if they threw it away?

“We have located your necklace!” someone from the hotel replied.

Next we had to figure out how to get it to me.

I’d hoped that Pongwe to Paje was a well-traveled route. Perhaps another hotel guest was coming this way?

They weren’t.

The hotel employee suggested I take a taxi back to Pongwe, pick it up, and return to Paje. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of paying $100+ to go back and forth.

I was still weighing the cost when I received a message with good news: There was a taxi driver who was headed my direction, and he could bring me the necklace. I’d have to pay for the trip and for his time, but it would be far less than $100.

The lesson

I remember hearing a story once about how Cher hired a separate limo just for her wigs. It sounded like the height of decadence — not only did Cher have these exquisite wigs, but the wigs had their own driver, and they traveled without her. Think of all the adventures Cher’s wigs must have!

Now my necklace was the broke girl’s version of Cher’s wigs, traveling around Zanzibar before returning to me. I loved thinking about that, imagining all the places it might go.

Here’s the other gift I received.

The hotel couldn’t tell me what time to expect the driver, and I didn’t want to miss him, so I agreed to hang out at my place in Paje and wait. Luckily, I was staying at Mr. Kahawa Waterfront Suites, a stylish and comfortable boutique hotel that also happens to be located on the most picturesque, pristine stretch of beach. When I tired of watching the kitesurfers, I could take a cool dip in the pool.

Hours into my wait, as I lounged by the water, read a book, and luxuriated in solitude, I realized that my necklace was forcing me to stay in relaxation mode. So maybe that evil eye gave me some protection after all, and protected me from myself.

And yes, I’m wearing the necklace right now.

I named her Cher.

•••

Chasing rest and relaxation in Zanzibar

September 2, 2023

I couldn’t go all the way to Tanzania without making a side trip to Zanzibar, an archipelago boasting white sugar-sand beaches, lush forests, and turquoise water.

So after I summited Mount Kilimanjaro, I made the quick hop from mainland Arusha to Unguja Island, Zanzibar, a zippy flight that took about 90 minutes.

Zanzibar instantly did something to me. You know the sensation of wearing tightly tied hiking boots for a long time — and them taking them off? The loosened laces, the heaviness falling away, the blood rushing back. That’s what landing in Zanzibar felt like. An unbinding.

On arrival

I wasn’t interested in staying at a party hostel or bustling town, which why my first stop was Pongwe Bay Resort, perched along a shimmery teal bay near sleepy fishing villages and seaweed farms. My goal here was to unwind, which I find difficult to do when I travel. I’m usually the person who will try every activity a hotel offers, wander the area for miles, and have a long list to sights to see.

This trip, however, I knew I needed rest and recovery. The steep descent on Kilimanjaro left my feet battered and bruised. My bones ached from sleeping on the mountain. I had been cold for days; a mere 48 hours earlier, my tears were frozen to my cheeks. What I needed was comfort and quiet.

Pongwe promised nothing but sunshine, flowers, gentle ocean waves. The most popular sightseeing spot is a small, fine-dining restaurant located on its own teensy island. It sounded perfect.

I had been so focused on Kili, though, that I was ill-prepared for the Zanzibar part of my trip. I hadn’t packed any beachwear or footwear beyond hiking boots. And while I assumed I could pick up some budget-friendly flip flops and sundresses along the way, I didn’t have a chance to stop anywhere between the airport and hotel.

Was I going to be miserable?

So this is heaven

When I saw the remote location of the resort, I imagined myself clunking around a tropical paradise in my stinky boots. Then the proprietor of the place intervened.

“Just so you know, this is a no-shoes resort,” said the owner, a handsome Italian man. “All of our paths are made of soft sand or cool stone, so please do not wear shoes anywhere.”

As if that wasn’t amazing enough, I arrived at 9 a.m., well before the 3 p.m. check-in. However, my room was already ready.

“Unless you want breakfast …?” the owner said.

I did want breakfast, because I had to leave my other hotel at 4 a.m. and hadn’t had time to eat. But I don’t like spending money on a hotel breakfast, which tends to be overpriced and underwhelming.

“You know you booked a room that includes food, right?” the owner said. My stomach rumbled in response. He gestured to a room adjacent to the dining area, filled with buffet tables covered with luscious fruits and homemade dishes.

I was already about to weep with joy when he added, “We’re running a special right now on massages. Seventy-five minutes for $40. Let me know if you’d like to book anything.”

Yes. Yes, I would be booking something.

The owner confirmed that I was only staying one night and asked what time I’d be checking out.

“Checkout is usually at 10, but nobody has the room booked after you, so you can stay as long as you’d like,” he smiled. I thanked the man profusely, and I apologized that I’d only booked one night.

He shrugged, “So you must live this one day to the very fullest.”

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