The Leopard Print Luggage

By Richelle Da Costa

The Leopard Print Luggage is a travelogue with a difference ... the story being driven by the reckless, personified Luggage. 'The Luggage ... smart, stylish, compact, robust and versatile, was designed for just the sort of wild travel experiences a Leopard Print girl craves, experiences that will take her out of her comfort zone and offer new lessons and challenges. She must be willing to take risks ...' This volume documents the author's recent journey through Turkey, Greece, Albania, Croatia, Hungary, Slovenia, Northern Italy and Romania. The physical and emotional challenges she experiences are as diverse and exciting as the countries she visits. Fellow travellers addicts will find inspiration and ideas for new travel destinations and experiences; for others The Leopard Print Luggage will be a re-kindling of past travel memories. For the vicarious traveller, the concept of The Luggage being in control is liberating; one cannot help but have adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raider Publishing International
• Release date: Jan 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301748938

Book preview

Introduction

I’m an adventurous woman, a cat lover, and a lioness at heart, so when leopard-print reappeared on the fashion scene recently, I couldn’t help but embrace it.

It all began in Port Douglas, in Far North Queensland, where I was holidaying with a friend. We were indulging in a little retail therapy when I spotted a smart leopard-print handbag with a matching clip-on change purse. I just had to have it! Fifteen minutes later, I bumped into Jeanne two shops down, who insisted that I try on a slinky leopard-print slip dress and matching headscarf. Well, who would’ve thought!

Six months later, and with a bit more help from my friends, my faux fur collection had grown considerably and now included singlet tops, jackets, tights, underwear, scarves, hair clips, earrings, candles and ridiculous shoes with leopard-print bows.

But on Christmas Day, when I unwrapped The Leopard Print Luggage, I knew there was no turning back. It was time for a real adventure, time to unleash those repressed feline instincts in the wild!

The luggage, smart, stylish, compact, robust and versatile, was designed for just the sort of wild travel experiences a leopard-print girl craves, experiences that will take her out of her comfort zone and offer new lessons and challenges. She must be willing to take risks…

Looking through leopard-print lenses, I compiled an itinerary:

Turkey...exotic, mysterious and colourful; the philosophical challenge of an Islamic culture; decorative, elaborate, vibrant Ottoman architecture; historically, geographically and culturally wild; spicy, rich, fragrant peasant food and wine; evocative Middle Eastern music and dance… Yes, Turkey is a must!

Greece… a pleasurable interlude following the rigours of Turkey and an opportunity to reach Eastern Europe overland; a week in an authentic blue and white Mediterranean village in the north; swimming, sunbathing and eating fresh seafood? Mmm!

Albania…unknown territory, few tourists… Enigmatic!

Croatia and Slovenia… ex-communist countries with rich cultural traditions… Hopefully not yet too Westernised!

Hungary… mad Gypsies, fabulous Budapest and… Klezmer!

Lake Como, Italy… beauty, tradition, delectable food and wine… Style!

Romania… a cheap airfare from Milan; a taste of the Romany… Rushed, but practical!

Return to Turkey on the Bosphorus Express… three more glorious days in Istanbul… Perfect!

Leopard-Print Luxury and a Robbery

Korean Air breaks what is normally an arduous twenty-hour flight from Sydney to Istanbul into two manageable legs. We touch down at Incheon Airport late in the evening and I am whisked off to a luxury Seoul hotel; the perfect way to unwind and avoid the otherwise inevitable jetlag.

And, as a bonus, I am to experience my first ever Korean spa.

My private hotel room is spacious and slick. Dinner, the inevitable buffet, in the impeccable dining room, is top class. I restrict myself to a few fresh delicacies… raw tuna slices with wasabi, prawns and crisp vegetable salads.

Afterwards, I draw a bath and float in the scalding, scented water, contemplating the journey ahead. I drift off to sleep in the huge low futon, unaware that The Leopard Print Luggage is having a somewhat different experience in a transit store room at the airport.

I wake refreshed, with three hours left to explore the hotel and its facilities, before heading back to the airport.

Breakfast is amazing. I am torn between choosing one of the fresh omelettes, prepared on demand by silent, smooth-skinned young men in crisp white aprons and tall chefs’ hats, or a selection of flaky, sweet pastries fresh from the oven. I go for both, of course.

Next, I manage a dip in the outdoor, terrace pool. My friend and travelling companion, Jeanne, an early riser, is also swimming and into her twentieth lap. She has come from the spa and urges me to do the same.

The aesthetics of the cool, scented space are at the same time calming and stimulating. Fascinated, I watch as six Korean women, naked and uninhibited, move through the obviously familiar rituals.

Silently and with some amusement, they encourage me to join them.

I observe these exquisite women as they shower together, then recline or exercise in the scorching, glass-walled sauna room. They chatter like small birds in the cool plunge pools, then perch on low wooden stools to scour their pale skins with rock salt, regarding their black shining hair and scrubbed round faces in small individual mirrors.

They fuss over me in the powder room, seating me in front of a rotating fan, brushing and drying my hair. We pamper each other with oils and fragrances arranged on the marble bench tops.

It is liberating for me to be in the company of small women. I acknowledge that sometimes I feel almost apologetic in a culture where largeness has become the norm. I feel humble.

I am, at the time, unaware that this is to be first of many strange bonding experiences with females, and how observing and examining the role of women in different cultures is to become an accidental focus of my journey.

Sultanahmet and a Taste of Old Istanbul

The onward flight to Istanbul is almost enjoyable. I snack, sip and snooze. Midway through my third movie, a voice suddenly announces, "Merhaba. We have arrived in Istanbul."

Even at midnight, Ataturk Airport is chaotic and bustling. I locate the baggage collection area just in time to see The Leopard Print Luggage make its grand conveyor belt entrance… the perfect accessory in such an exotic destination. All good, until I discover the lock on the luggage has been broken and all my jewellery is missing from my tote bag!

Sadly, Turkish does not feature in my repertoire of foreign languages, so reporting my loss to the authorities proves somewhat challenging.

Ultimately, I choose to delay the process until the following day after settling into my hotel and connecting with my tour group leader, who fortunately speaks a little Turkish. A brief email message to my insurance provider, a fax to the Commissioner of Police in Istanbul, and I’m off to the Grand Bazaar. What better place in the world to have to shop for jewellery?

Intrepid Tours’ basic itinerary includes three nights in a simple, but authentic hotel in Sultanahmet, the heart of Old Istanbul, within walking distance of the mosques, palaces and markets.

I take to walking, many kilometres each day, sometimes with a pre-determined destination, but often just exploring, observing, tasting, smelling, listening and discovering.

As I walk, the call to prayer permeates the racket and hubbub of the streets. As always, I stop, and inhale the plaintive wailing until it becomes like a meditation, an ongoing reminder that I am indeed in another world!

Old Istanbul… a decaying anarchy of crumbling stone walls, stained grey mosques with curved domes and delicately carved minarets, aromatic food stalls, brightly painted ceramics, and a carpet shop on every corner. I am easily lured into these cool, dark, musty caverns where handsome young Turkish carpet sellers offer apple tea and compliments. Who could resist?

Sultanahmet… where swarthy, brooding men slouch languidly in doorways or huddle together around café tables dunking crusty bread into bowls of stained-red bean soup; where hooded women, cheerful and animated in their colourful headscarves, walk arm in arm back from the market; where less frequently I notice single females, staring and silent behind the controversial burqa, merging with the shadows in their sombre, heavy robes; where inquisitive, black-eyed children scurry along behind me, always eager to greet me with a laughing ‘hello English’.

I try to imagine the lives and thoughts of these people, caught somewhere between East and West, with their ancient,