I kept pinching myself on the bumpy ride from Alice Springs to Uluru. What had happened that morning seemed almost too good to be true: we got upgraded! No more schlepping with the plebian hordes – the regular tour we had arranged was overbooked and so we were bumped up to the “Safari in Style” instead. Luckiest girls ever! There were only ten of us on the 4wd bus, with an experienced tour guide and even a hostie who was to prepare all our meals.
Most people don’t realize that Uluru (also known as Ayer’s Rock, but the name isn’t so politically correct) is another 500 kilometres from Alice Springs. We left town early and enjoyed a snooze after watching the sun rising over the Outback. We stopped every hour or two to get gas, buy an ice coffee, or ride a camel. Just another day in the Red Centre.
I’d planned to visit Uluru at the end of my trip since it is a place of spiritual significance. My ten-month odyssey through Australia and Asia has been both a physical and metaphysical journey for me. I’ve grown a lot emotionally and spiritually and I thought it would be the perfect place to reflect upon my time.
Uluru didn’t disappoint. This is no mountain: it is one solid rock, a monolith sticking out of the desert like a beacon. When you see Uluru, you have no doubt why people travel to one of the most remote areas of one of the most remote countries on earth to see it. It is a sacred site for the Aboriginal peoples of Australia…and now for me too. We got to see the Rock in its many glories: at sunset (with bubbly and snacks provided courtesy of our Safari in Style), at sunrise, and up close during a four-hour walk around its base.
I had lots of time to reflect during our three days in the heart of the Outback. Our group was mature and relaxed, with early nights and happily silent dinners. After Uluru, we hiked the Olgas and then Kings Canyon…madly drinking water because this place is so dry you can dehydrate while standing still in the shade.
Our adventurous guide couldn’t be bothered to take the highway back to Alice. Instead, we took the shortcut: a 200-kilometre, 4WD-access-only, red dirt road called the Mereenie Track. We bumped speedily along the road but stopped countless times to see amazing things, like a herd of wild camels crossing the track, and wild horses or brumbys ,as the Aussies call them, grazing amongst the spinifex. I serenaded Kelly with my own rendition of a Rolling Stones classic: “Wiiiiild camels couldn’t drag me awaaaay…” Apparently, the early European explorers of the Outback preferred the water-rationing camel to the everyday thirsty horse. When explorers completed their tours, they simply let the camels free in the desert. Today, there are over a million wild camels (probably speaking with Australian accents) grooving in the vastness of the Outback.
At the end of the Mereenie Track, we pulled into oasis-like Glenhelen and caught our transfer back to Alice Springs (a slick Jeep, courtesy of the upgrade). Kelly and I were happy for the hot showers at the hotel in Alice but already we missed the Red Centre, the heart of Australia.
The next day, we boarded the plane and headed back to Melbourne, where it all began for me in Australia. Yes, the end is near. Only one blog left…lots of love to everyone back home.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Northern Territory Odyssey, Part 2: The road to the red
After a cool night’s sleep in the blissfully air-conditioned hostel in Darwin, I was the first one up and waiting for the bus. Twenty-four of us were loading up for the drive south and my early arrival paid off…and Kelly and I enjoyed front row seats for the long journey. The Stuart Highway, running through the center of Australia, is a seemingly endless road, invariably straight and surrounded by vast, empty countryside. In three days, we covered the 1500 kilometers from Darwin Alice Springs. The colours of the scenery changed with each day: the first was lush green, the second was golden yellow, and the third was that vibrant rust colour of the Red Centre.
Our first night was spent near the town of Katherine, home of the amazing Katherine Gorge. We hadn’t reached the desert yet and so it was another hot and sweaty night in the tents. Some of our group paid $60 for a boat tour of the gorge but those of us with more limited budgets opted for the hike and swim on offer. Nevertheless, we paid our price. Our newbie guide must have been crazy to take us on a lengthy hike over rough terrain at midday when it was 37 degrees in the shade. I drank three liters of water over the afternoon and still I didn’t have to stop once to relieve myself. This is the exactly the kind of folly that can kill people in the Outback…but we all survived so maybe I’m overreacting.
Day Two featured a heck of a lot of driving as we covered about 700 kilometres. The landscape changed as the trees got shorter and sparser, with tall golden grasses growing amongst them. In the morning we stopped at the Maranaka Homestead for a blissful dip in the thermal pools. Little wallabies grazed in the forests surrounding the pools while we floated and splashed, soothing our aching bones from all the hiking and sitting we’d been doing. At lunch time, we rolled into Daly Waters, which is the location of Australia's first international airfield and home of the Daly Waters Pub, probably one the most remote and interesting pubs in the country. The walls were lined with paraphernalia: license plates, ID cards, women’s underwear, hats, stickers and badges – all left by past visitors. We cooked up a proper Aussie barbecue in the picnic area and I downed a few ciders to ease the heat and the endlessness of the road.
Our driver waived to every car we passed on the drive. There is a steady, if meager stream of traffic on the Stuart, comprised mostly of road trains, which are transport trucks hauling two, three or four containers. Just imagine how much fun it was to witness our 24-passenger bus (hauling a trailer no less) passing a road train: the longest minutes of my life. We camped outside Tennant Creek on the second night and found that the humidity and heat had been replaced with desert dryness and a mess of flies. The Aussie flies are known for their omnipresence and persistence – as if the heat and isolation of the Outback weren’t enough to drive a person mad. Thankfully, the fly net I bought at one of the roadhouses kept me sane.
We passed many small towns, stopping endlessly for gas. I finally got a glimpse of Australia’s Aboriginal peoples, who are as black as Africans and who carry the continuing scars of a native people whose country was taken over by colonists. Before we left Tennant Creek, we visited the community centre and were treated to some music by a local Aboriginal band. The music program had been set up as a way to keep people busy and give them a sense of purpose. It seemed to be succeeding.
On our final day, we had a mere 300 kilometres to cover. We stopped at the Devil’s Marbles, outside Tennant Creek, for a wander and many photos. I felt like I’d arrived. We were finally in it and amongst it: the mystical Red Centre of Oz. Overnight, our world had gone from incredibly humid, lush and green to incredibly dry, rocky and endlessly red.
We arrived in Alice Springs and had to say a sad goodbye to our beloved group, who were on a different tour schedule and had a stopover in Alice. Kelly and I reluctantly left them to party the night away and but we fell gratefully into our hostel beds. More adventure was waiting: onward to Uluru! Lots of love to everyone back home.
Our first night was spent near the town of Katherine, home of the amazing Katherine Gorge. We hadn’t reached the desert yet and so it was another hot and sweaty night in the tents. Some of our group paid $60 for a boat tour of the gorge but those of us with more limited budgets opted for the hike and swim on offer. Nevertheless, we paid our price. Our newbie guide must have been crazy to take us on a lengthy hike over rough terrain at midday when it was 37 degrees in the shade. I drank three liters of water over the afternoon and still I didn’t have to stop once to relieve myself. This is the exactly the kind of folly that can kill people in the Outback…but we all survived so maybe I’m overreacting.
Day Two featured a heck of a lot of driving as we covered about 700 kilometres. The landscape changed as the trees got shorter and sparser, with tall golden grasses growing amongst them. In the morning we stopped at the Maranaka Homestead for a blissful dip in the thermal pools. Little wallabies grazed in the forests surrounding the pools while we floated and splashed, soothing our aching bones from all the hiking and sitting we’d been doing. At lunch time, we rolled into Daly Waters, which is the location of Australia's first international airfield and home of the Daly Waters Pub, probably one the most remote and interesting pubs in the country. The walls were lined with paraphernalia: license plates, ID cards, women’s underwear, hats, stickers and badges – all left by past visitors. We cooked up a proper Aussie barbecue in the picnic area and I downed a few ciders to ease the heat and the endlessness of the road.
Our driver waived to every car we passed on the drive. There is a steady, if meager stream of traffic on the Stuart, comprised mostly of road trains, which are transport trucks hauling two, three or four containers. Just imagine how much fun it was to witness our 24-passenger bus (hauling a trailer no less) passing a road train: the longest minutes of my life. We camped outside Tennant Creek on the second night and found that the humidity and heat had been replaced with desert dryness and a mess of flies. The Aussie flies are known for their omnipresence and persistence – as if the heat and isolation of the Outback weren’t enough to drive a person mad. Thankfully, the fly net I bought at one of the roadhouses kept me sane.
We passed many small towns, stopping endlessly for gas. I finally got a glimpse of Australia’s Aboriginal peoples, who are as black as Africans and who carry the continuing scars of a native people whose country was taken over by colonists. Before we left Tennant Creek, we visited the community centre and were treated to some music by a local Aboriginal band. The music program had been set up as a way to keep people busy and give them a sense of purpose. It seemed to be succeeding.
On our final day, we had a mere 300 kilometres to cover. We stopped at the Devil’s Marbles, outside Tennant Creek, for a wander and many photos. I felt like I’d arrived. We were finally in it and amongst it: the mystical Red Centre of Oz. Overnight, our world had gone from incredibly humid, lush and green to incredibly dry, rocky and endlessly red.
We arrived in Alice Springs and had to say a sad goodbye to our beloved group, who were on a different tour schedule and had a stopover in Alice. Kelly and I reluctantly left them to party the night away and but we fell gratefully into our hostel beds. More adventure was waiting: onward to Uluru! Lots of love to everyone back home.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Northern Territory Odyssey, Part 1: In the heart of Kakadu
The heat began as soon as I stepped off the plane in Darwin. Later, I would find out that there are three temperatures in the top end of Australia: hot, bloody hot, and f*cking hot. The Wet season had just finished a week before my arrival, so the landscape was lush and the temperatures steaming at 35 degree Celsius and 70% humidity.
I was excited to get to Darwin because it was reunion time. Remember Texas Kelly, my best girl from law school in Melbourne? Well, she decided to come back to Australia for another semester and met me for a nine-day tour of the Australian Outback. We ran into each other's arms and hugged...and immediately started chatting like no time had passed since we last saw each other.
Our tour first took us east of Darwin to Litchfield and Kakadu National Parks. We were a group of 16 backpackers in a big 4x4 vehicle with a hilarious Kiwi tour guide and an Aussie driver who would give Crocodile Dundee a run for his money. The group was great: lots of enthusiastic Germans, two pretty Danish girls, a gentle Frenchman, two funny English engineers, etc. Kelly confided to me that she's sometimes embarassed by her countrymen: "The Americans are so loud...but Europeans are awesome!" As for me, I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love ze Germans.
Given the heat, our main activity was swimming. We sampled all the amazing waterfalls and plunge pools around Kakadu...well, at least the ones that had undergone "crocodile management." At the end of the Wet season, the park rangers wait for the water to recede and then check the pools to make sure they are croc-free. Since crocs can't climb over rocks, the pools are then accessible to visitors for the rest of the season.
In addition to swimming, we did some hikes and saw some amazing Aboriginal rock art. At the top of the Ubirr lookout, we gazed from plateau to plain, soaking in all the elements: the lush greenery of the Nadab floodplain to one side, the red rocks of the jagged Stone Country to the other. There was a refreshing breeze blowing the smoke from the backburn which the park rangers were doing below, a rainbow in the distance and sunshine dappled with a few raindrops. Heaven on Aboriginal earth.
We camped in permanent sites in roomy canvas tents and dined on hearty fare in the screened-in cooking areas. Our guides taught us lots of Aussie songs, with accompanying choreography, and there was constant singing around camp: "Gimme a home amongst the gum trees, with lots of plum trees, a sheep or two and a kangaroo..."
After three days, we trundled back to Darwin to re-group before setting off on the long drive south. The Kakadu crew was full of love and laughs - we all enjoyed each other's company and looked forward to continuing the journey together. More news from the Red Centre to follow - lots of love to everyone back home.
I was excited to get to Darwin because it was reunion time. Remember Texas Kelly, my best girl from law school in Melbourne? Well, she decided to come back to Australia for another semester and met me for a nine-day tour of the Australian Outback. We ran into each other's arms and hugged...and immediately started chatting like no time had passed since we last saw each other.
Our tour first took us east of Darwin to Litchfield and Kakadu National Parks. We were a group of 16 backpackers in a big 4x4 vehicle with a hilarious Kiwi tour guide and an Aussie driver who would give Crocodile Dundee a run for his money. The group was great: lots of enthusiastic Germans, two pretty Danish girls, a gentle Frenchman, two funny English engineers, etc. Kelly confided to me that she's sometimes embarassed by her countrymen: "The Americans are so loud...but Europeans are awesome!" As for me, I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love ze Germans.
Given the heat, our main activity was swimming. We sampled all the amazing waterfalls and plunge pools around Kakadu...well, at least the ones that had undergone "crocodile management." At the end of the Wet season, the park rangers wait for the water to recede and then check the pools to make sure they are croc-free. Since crocs can't climb over rocks, the pools are then accessible to visitors for the rest of the season.
In addition to swimming, we did some hikes and saw some amazing Aboriginal rock art. At the top of the Ubirr lookout, we gazed from plateau to plain, soaking in all the elements: the lush greenery of the Nadab floodplain to one side, the red rocks of the jagged Stone Country to the other. There was a refreshing breeze blowing the smoke from the backburn which the park rangers were doing below, a rainbow in the distance and sunshine dappled with a few raindrops. Heaven on Aboriginal earth.
We camped in permanent sites in roomy canvas tents and dined on hearty fare in the screened-in cooking areas. Our guides taught us lots of Aussie songs, with accompanying choreography, and there was constant singing around camp: "Gimme a home amongst the gum trees, with lots of plum trees, a sheep or two and a kangaroo..."
After three days, we trundled back to Darwin to re-group before setting off on the long drive south. The Kakadu crew was full of love and laughs - we all enjoyed each other's company and looked forward to continuing the journey together. More news from the Red Centre to follow - lots of love to everyone back home.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Return to Oz - Perfect Perth
I completely zoned out on my Singapore Airlines flight to Perth. The brand-new plane was very comfortable, with good food on offer and funny movies. When the pilot announced that we were starting our descent, I realized that I'd been missing out on the scenery! I opened the window shade and a huge smile spread across my face: red desert, green coast and deep blue sea. Sweet Australia, back in my arms again. It was a beautiful reunion.
I was visiting Cosmo and Sharon, who live in Cottlesloe Beach. Cosmo grew up down the road from me back home and he married a lovely Aussie woman from Perth. Sharon's family is Burmese and they settled in Perth after they fled Burma when Sharon's mother was pregnant with her. After picking me up at the airport and giving me a short tour of the city, we enjoyed a glass of wine from Cos and Sharon's balcony overlooking the Indian Ocean. Amazing. It was just the beginning of a week of breathtaking sunset after breathtaking sunset.
The good times were rolling during my visit: a community gathering with Burmese food and funky music, a house party full of Colombians shooting tequila and dancing salsa, many pints with Cos at the Little Creatures Brewery in Fremantle (or Fre-o, as the locals call it). I spent a day or three at groovy Cottlesloe Beach (called Cott by the locals), alternately lounging on the hot white sand and plunging into the cool, clear blue water. Another day, I rode the ferry out to Rottnest Island, about a 30-minute sail from Fre-o. The little island is a parkland paradise with the most beautiful beaches I've seen on my whole trip. The only way to get around Rotto is to rent a bike, so I tootled around checking out beach after beach, cooing over the quokkas (little marsupials that only live on Rotto) and just marveling at my surroundings. I don't think I've ever said "Wow" so many times in one day in my whole life.
Perth is likely the most isolated city in the world - a green strip of civilization wedged between the blue expanse of the Indian Ocean and the massive desert that makes up Australia's Red Centre. I enjoyed the wide open spaces and sense of isolation because it gives the city a relaxed pace, like there was a lot of breathing room. The weather in Perth was invariably hot, but there was always a cool breeze to take the edge off. I was told that the famous afternoon southerly is called the Fre-o Doctor, a breeze coming up from the south to soothe the intensity of the heat.
Cos and Sharon were the best hosts: they left me little notes when they went off to work and called me during the day to see how I was doing. They seemed so earnestly determined to show me a good time, and they certainly succeeded! Cosmo picked me from the Rottnest ferry on his hot motorcycle and took me on a tour of the beautiful bays and gorgeous neighbourhoods around the Swan River. And we all know how much Asiana loves riding! It felt glorious. Then, on my last day, Sharon surprised me with a gift: a massage at her favourite spa. How sweet is that!
My Perth visit was over way too soon. It was one of my favourite Australian places so far and I'm determined to get back there to live for a year or two someday. For now though, the road continues. Next stop: the great, hot Northern Territory of Oz. Lots of love to everyone back home.
I was visiting Cosmo and Sharon, who live in Cottlesloe Beach. Cosmo grew up down the road from me back home and he married a lovely Aussie woman from Perth. Sharon's family is Burmese and they settled in Perth after they fled Burma when Sharon's mother was pregnant with her. After picking me up at the airport and giving me a short tour of the city, we enjoyed a glass of wine from Cos and Sharon's balcony overlooking the Indian Ocean. Amazing. It was just the beginning of a week of breathtaking sunset after breathtaking sunset.
The good times were rolling during my visit: a community gathering with Burmese food and funky music, a house party full of Colombians shooting tequila and dancing salsa, many pints with Cos at the Little Creatures Brewery in Fremantle (or Fre-o, as the locals call it). I spent a day or three at groovy Cottlesloe Beach (called Cott by the locals), alternately lounging on the hot white sand and plunging into the cool, clear blue water. Another day, I rode the ferry out to Rottnest Island, about a 30-minute sail from Fre-o. The little island is a parkland paradise with the most beautiful beaches I've seen on my whole trip. The only way to get around Rotto is to rent a bike, so I tootled around checking out beach after beach, cooing over the quokkas (little marsupials that only live on Rotto) and just marveling at my surroundings. I don't think I've ever said "Wow" so many times in one day in my whole life.
Perth is likely the most isolated city in the world - a green strip of civilization wedged between the blue expanse of the Indian Ocean and the massive desert that makes up Australia's Red Centre. I enjoyed the wide open spaces and sense of isolation because it gives the city a relaxed pace, like there was a lot of breathing room. The weather in Perth was invariably hot, but there was always a cool breeze to take the edge off. I was told that the famous afternoon southerly is called the Fre-o Doctor, a breeze coming up from the south to soothe the intensity of the heat.
Cos and Sharon were the best hosts: they left me little notes when they went off to work and called me during the day to see how I was doing. They seemed so earnestly determined to show me a good time, and they certainly succeeded! Cosmo picked me from the Rottnest ferry on his hot motorcycle and took me on a tour of the beautiful bays and gorgeous neighbourhoods around the Swan River. And we all know how much Asiana loves riding! It felt glorious. Then, on my last day, Sharon surprised me with a gift: a massage at her favourite spa. How sweet is that!
My Perth visit was over way too soon. It was one of my favourite Australian places so far and I'm determined to get back there to live for a year or two someday. For now though, the road continues. Next stop: the great, hot Northern Territory of Oz. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Reflections on Asiana
My three months in Asia have been an unforgettable experience for me. I was pretty nervous before I left, worried about traveling alone in third world countries. But I seem to enjoy doing things that scare me...so I just jumped in. And it was beautiful.
There are many special things about South East Asia. First, there's all the modes of transportation, such as hot pink taxi cabs in Bangkok with flowered uphostery and wild decorations. In Cambodia, I learned that a Toyota Camry can carry at least eight people, maybe more on the weekends for a trip to the beach. In Vietnam, I saw people transporting everything imaginable on motorbikes: pineapples, pigs, flowers, and even scaffolding.
The animals were also unforgettable. Even in the heart of urban Saigon, a rooster's crow woke me in the morning. You can always tell the gender of the dogs in Asia because the females have sagging nipples from nursing and the males have their bits hanging out all over the place - nobody seems to spay or neuter the animals! The upside is that there are tons of cute puppies and kitties all over the place.
The food, especially street food, was unforgettable. Sweet drinks like mango shake or iced coffee or lemon juice were the perfect way to beat the heat. I've come to adore rice and will have to buy a rice maker as soon as I get home - and learn to make more curries!
Last, the people were so warm and relaxed. Even people trying to rip me off would be pleasant about it. I will always remember all the ladies who befriended me on buses and trains and shared their food. Also, my various travel partners and hosts made my solo trip sometimes feel like a family vacation.
I leave South East Asia feeling more relaxed and confident than ever. I like I've grown so much and learned so much, but I also feel closer to my original self than ever - the person I was when I was a child and life was uncomplicated and carefree. My nickname growing up was Ana so I've decided to call this new composite of myself Asiana.
I unfortunately don't have much more time to write about Asia but I know that my reflections will continue for months and years to come. My odyssey isn't over yet! I'm back to Australia for one more month to see the bits that I missed last time. More news from the road to follow - lots of love to everyone back home!
There are many special things about South East Asia. First, there's all the modes of transportation, such as hot pink taxi cabs in Bangkok with flowered uphostery and wild decorations. In Cambodia, I learned that a Toyota Camry can carry at least eight people, maybe more on the weekends for a trip to the beach. In Vietnam, I saw people transporting everything imaginable on motorbikes: pineapples, pigs, flowers, and even scaffolding.
The animals were also unforgettable. Even in the heart of urban Saigon, a rooster's crow woke me in the morning. You can always tell the gender of the dogs in Asia because the females have sagging nipples from nursing and the males have their bits hanging out all over the place - nobody seems to spay or neuter the animals! The upside is that there are tons of cute puppies and kitties all over the place.
The food, especially street food, was unforgettable. Sweet drinks like mango shake or iced coffee or lemon juice were the perfect way to beat the heat. I've come to adore rice and will have to buy a rice maker as soon as I get home - and learn to make more curries!
Last, the people were so warm and relaxed. Even people trying to rip me off would be pleasant about it. I will always remember all the ladies who befriended me on buses and trains and shared their food. Also, my various travel partners and hosts made my solo trip sometimes feel like a family vacation.
I leave South East Asia feeling more relaxed and confident than ever. I like I've grown so much and learned so much, but I also feel closer to my original self than ever - the person I was when I was a child and life was uncomplicated and carefree. My nickname growing up was Ana so I've decided to call this new composite of myself Asiana.
I unfortunately don't have much more time to write about Asia but I know that my reflections will continue for months and years to come. My odyssey isn't over yet! I'm back to Australia for one more month to see the bits that I missed last time. More news from the road to follow - lots of love to everyone back home!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Straights of Melaka
I'm back to solo traveling, which suits me just fine. The bus trip from Penang to Melaka was the best my trip has yet to offer, with huge plush seats and a pleasant seat mate. Bjorn was a 19-year-old gap year traveler from Sweden: sweet, rather earnest and very quiet. I didn't feel much like talking either and so we shared a companionable silence for the journey. I settled into my very comfortable seat with the Asian version of a fast-food breakfast: sweet milk tea on ice in a plastic bag with a straw sticking out and a triangular package of Nasi Lemak: rice with spicy sambal sauce, anchovies and a hard-boiled egg, all wrapped in a banana leaf. Amazing breakfast food - and much better than any McSomething on offer back home.
During the eight-hour drip, the landscape of Malaysia flew past me lush and green, reminding me of Where the Wild Things Are, which was one of my favourite bedtime stories as a kid. The landscape seemed untouched and undeveloped - I wondered where they were hiding the 25 million people who allegedly live in this country.
Once ensconced in a so-so guesthouse in Melaka, I went in search of food...and found the holy grail. Screw Bombay Mahal on Jean-Talon in Montreal! I have officially found the best Indian food restaurant in the WORLD at Pak Putra Restoran on Jalan Kota Laksamana in Melaka. This food was so good, I would wage holy jihad for it. I would personally sponsor each staff member of the restoran for Canadian immigration - and all their wives and children and aunties and uncles and parents. The place was unassuming, set in a quiet strip mall a few doors down from the 7-Eleven. Permanent spots were set up inside but most people chose to sit at the plastic tables and chairs in the parking lot, enjoying the fresh night air. On the kerb were two tandoori ovens, one to cook the skewers of their famous bright-orange tandoori chicken and one for the naan breads. I loved the sound that the naan-wallah creates when he thumps the dough on the side of the tandoori oven. I went back three nights in a row to try different things on the menu: the most flavourful saag paneer, butter chicken, succulent chicken tandoori, mutton roganjosh, beautiful garlic naans dripping with butter, vegetables markhani, and aloo bhindi (a curry of potatoes and okra) that melted in your mouth...heaven on earth.
The town of Melaka was colonized by the Portugese and the Dutch, so walking through the streets of the old city feels like a stroll through a European town. I did the usual: wandering, eating, looking, sipping and smiling. A old Malay man, a taxi driver on break, beckoned me to drink sweet chestnut tea with him from a street stall but had to rush off for a fare half-way through our conversation. A Spanish couple who have retired in Thailand struck up a conversation from the next table at lunch, reminding me of my parents with their tanned skin, warm smiles and youthful vigour. Finally, two Malaysian couples joined me at my riverside table and urged me to have another cendol with them - this is a Malay dessert of shaved ice, coconut milk, sweet green noodles, red bean jelly and corn (sounds like it might be weird but it is very good and refreshing!). I shared a great conversation with them, talking of travel, working life, marriage, etc. One of the women, Azmah, was most memorable. "Look how brown her skin is," she murmured to her husband, and we laughed about the strange dichotomy in which Western women want tanned skin and Asian women think white skin is most beautiful. Later, she looked at me pointedly: "When will you be married?!" An excellent question, I thought, but I still didn't have an answer. Despite my solo state in life and in travel, I am never alone when I meet so many angels on my journey.
My time in Malaysia came to an end all too quickly. I wish I had planned more time here because I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. The Malays seem used to visitors: Chinese and Indian immigrants abound, not to mention all the Europeans who colonized various parts. The language was so similar to English: you eat at a restoran, buy medicines at the farmasi, and take a teksi or bas for transportation. I felt remarkably at ease for a white woman alone in a Muslim country - but maybe it was a testament to my presumptions that I expected it to be difficult to be a woman in a Muslim country. In addition to being hospitable, I found the Malays to be relaxed, friendly...and very good at making amazing food!
I'm on to Singapore but I know I'll be back someday to Malaysia. Lots of love to everyone back home.
During the eight-hour drip, the landscape of Malaysia flew past me lush and green, reminding me of Where the Wild Things Are, which was one of my favourite bedtime stories as a kid. The landscape seemed untouched and undeveloped - I wondered where they were hiding the 25 million people who allegedly live in this country.
Once ensconced in a so-so guesthouse in Melaka, I went in search of food...and found the holy grail. Screw Bombay Mahal on Jean-Talon in Montreal! I have officially found the best Indian food restaurant in the WORLD at Pak Putra Restoran on Jalan Kota Laksamana in Melaka. This food was so good, I would wage holy jihad for it. I would personally sponsor each staff member of the restoran for Canadian immigration - and all their wives and children and aunties and uncles and parents. The place was unassuming, set in a quiet strip mall a few doors down from the 7-Eleven. Permanent spots were set up inside but most people chose to sit at the plastic tables and chairs in the parking lot, enjoying the fresh night air. On the kerb were two tandoori ovens, one to cook the skewers of their famous bright-orange tandoori chicken and one for the naan breads. I loved the sound that the naan-wallah creates when he thumps the dough on the side of the tandoori oven. I went back three nights in a row to try different things on the menu: the most flavourful saag paneer, butter chicken, succulent chicken tandoori, mutton roganjosh, beautiful garlic naans dripping with butter, vegetables markhani, and aloo bhindi (a curry of potatoes and okra) that melted in your mouth...heaven on earth.
The town of Melaka was colonized by the Portugese and the Dutch, so walking through the streets of the old city feels like a stroll through a European town. I did the usual: wandering, eating, looking, sipping and smiling. A old Malay man, a taxi driver on break, beckoned me to drink sweet chestnut tea with him from a street stall but had to rush off for a fare half-way through our conversation. A Spanish couple who have retired in Thailand struck up a conversation from the next table at lunch, reminding me of my parents with their tanned skin, warm smiles and youthful vigour. Finally, two Malaysian couples joined me at my riverside table and urged me to have another cendol with them - this is a Malay dessert of shaved ice, coconut milk, sweet green noodles, red bean jelly and corn (sounds like it might be weird but it is very good and refreshing!). I shared a great conversation with them, talking of travel, working life, marriage, etc. One of the women, Azmah, was most memorable. "Look how brown her skin is," she murmured to her husband, and we laughed about the strange dichotomy in which Western women want tanned skin and Asian women think white skin is most beautiful. Later, she looked at me pointedly: "When will you be married?!" An excellent question, I thought, but I still didn't have an answer. Despite my solo state in life and in travel, I am never alone when I meet so many angels on my journey.
My time in Malaysia came to an end all too quickly. I wish I had planned more time here because I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. The Malays seem used to visitors: Chinese and Indian immigrants abound, not to mention all the Europeans who colonized various parts. The language was so similar to English: you eat at a restoran, buy medicines at the farmasi, and take a teksi or bas for transportation. I felt remarkably at ease for a white woman alone in a Muslim country - but maybe it was a testament to my presumptions that I expected it to be difficult to be a woman in a Muslim country. In addition to being hospitable, I found the Malays to be relaxed, friendly...and very good at making amazing food!
I'm on to Singapore but I know I'll be back someday to Malaysia. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Selamat Datang Malaysia
Another epic journey took me from the island of Ko Pan-Ngan south of the border to Malaysia. It was just a hop, skip, taxi, boat, bus, taxi, train, minivan...and we arrived in Penang twenty-four hours after leaving the beach at Haad Yao. The midnight train from Surat Thani was delayed by more than an hour but there was good company, nice food and lots to look at during the wait. I listened to Monique, a petite Dutch girl, talk at length about karma, chakras and other things she'd learned at an intense yoga retreat on Ko Pan Ngan. A shy young Muslim man wearing loose white pants, a long white tunic, a white fez hat and a groovy black leather jacket worked up the courage to come over and say hello to Kofi, trying not to stare too obviously at his cool trainers and dreadlocks.
When other trains rolled through the station, young children appeared from nowhere with trays of hot tea and coffee and biscuits, stepping up barefoot onto the train to roam the aisles selling their wares. I couldn't keep my eyes from the rainbow of passengers: after a month in the Buddhist and more Westernized parts of Thailand, it was amazing to see shrouded Muslim women and southern Thais with super-dark skin. Kofi and I were among the few Westerners on our train - most tourists opt for the air-conditioned trains instead of the fan service. When I rose from my sleeper berth in the morning to brush my teeth at the sink at the end of the carriage, I felt many pairs of eyes watching me. Later, when Kofi got up, the stares doubled.
At rooster's crow, we got off at Hat Yai Junction, still in Thailand, to change to the minivan service. It was mosques at dawn, with rotis, curry and hot tea for breakfast.We headed to Georgetown, the capital of Penang, an island off the west coast of northern Malaysia. I need to go south to Singapore for my return flight to Australia and Kofi was doing a visa run at the Thai consulate in Penang. The minivan dropped us in the middle of Chinatown and we quickly found a beautiful room at the stately Old Penang Inn on Love Lane. In the usual way of my travels, my first night in this new destination was a bit more expensive than the others, having been too tired to search for something cheap and dirty. On my second night I moved to Star Lodge and got a cheaper but equally lovely room with a cozy balcony. All in all, Georgetown provided the best accommodation of my whole trip in Asia.
Georgetown is a very walkable city, full of gorgeous colonial architecture and visually appealing little alleys and streets. It was a short walk to Little India, where every meal seemed to be better than the last. For breakfast, more hot rotis with lovely dahl and some hot, sweet tea to wash it all down. The roti has an amazing ability to be sweet, salty, dense and fluffy, all at the same time. I tell ya, them Indians know how to do dough!
I wandered the streets of Georgetown, admiring the sights and stopping for a lime juice from a street vendor on the boardwalk next to the sea. In the evening, I ran into Monique the Yogi and she introduced me to a lovely couple from Kentucky, two English teachers based in Bangkok. I haven't met many Americans on the road but the ones that are traveling have been pretty cool and much more enlightened than stereotyping would have us all believe. Kofi joined us later and we all trooped down to the local sidewalk pub for some open air drinks. It was hard to fend off attention with our group: a petite redhead, a tall skinny blonde, a black man, a large and affable American, and me. There was a constant stream of visitors coming over to our table to chat.
Once we'd had enough of the social musical chairs, we wandered in search of food. A very enthusiastic young woman at the Tourism Malaysia office had told me earlier about late-night eats, saying to look for the big lineup of people next to the Kapitan Mosque. Sure enough, the line at Nasi Kandar stretched to the kerb even at 1am. The food was delicious rice and many different curries, and it was worth the wait!
On my second day in Penang, I hopped on the city bus and ventured to Penang Hill to enjoy the beautiful view of the city and the "refreshing temperatures" - only in Asia is 27 degrees Celsius considered cool weather. Later, I explored the Kok Lek Si Temple, which is really a shrine to the gods of retail. To get to the actual temple, you have to walk up many steps through a gauntlet of shops and vendors. Here, I had the best example of bartering by walking away. With every step I took, the vendor-lady called out a lower price until the tee-shirt I'd examined went from 50 ringgits all the way down to 10. An excellent deal - and thank the gods for that!
It seems to rain at least once a day in Malaysia, a downpour every afternoon. But there are always pleasant ways to pass the time. I was booking my onward bus journey on Lebuh Muntri when the downpour began on my last night in Georgetown. The obliging travel agent/guesthouse owner just happened to sell beer. So I hunkered down with a Malaysian Jaz and chatted with the other travelers waiting out the weather: an Australian teacher on a visa run from Indonesia and a young Quebecois couple traveling with their four-year-old son. We braved the endless rain and scooted down the street to the Red Garden Food Paradise for some amazing Malaysian food.
So far, I've been surprised by Malaysia. I didn't expect much but I found nice company, excellent food, lovely scenes and comfortable food around every corner. My next stop is Melaka - lots of love to everyone back home.
When other trains rolled through the station, young children appeared from nowhere with trays of hot tea and coffee and biscuits, stepping up barefoot onto the train to roam the aisles selling their wares. I couldn't keep my eyes from the rainbow of passengers: after a month in the Buddhist and more Westernized parts of Thailand, it was amazing to see shrouded Muslim women and southern Thais with super-dark skin. Kofi and I were among the few Westerners on our train - most tourists opt for the air-conditioned trains instead of the fan service. When I rose from my sleeper berth in the morning to brush my teeth at the sink at the end of the carriage, I felt many pairs of eyes watching me. Later, when Kofi got up, the stares doubled.
At rooster's crow, we got off at Hat Yai Junction, still in Thailand, to change to the minivan service. It was mosques at dawn, with rotis, curry and hot tea for breakfast.We headed to Georgetown, the capital of Penang, an island off the west coast of northern Malaysia. I need to go south to Singapore for my return flight to Australia and Kofi was doing a visa run at the Thai consulate in Penang. The minivan dropped us in the middle of Chinatown and we quickly found a beautiful room at the stately Old Penang Inn on Love Lane. In the usual way of my travels, my first night in this new destination was a bit more expensive than the others, having been too tired to search for something cheap and dirty. On my second night I moved to Star Lodge and got a cheaper but equally lovely room with a cozy balcony. All in all, Georgetown provided the best accommodation of my whole trip in Asia.
Georgetown is a very walkable city, full of gorgeous colonial architecture and visually appealing little alleys and streets. It was a short walk to Little India, where every meal seemed to be better than the last. For breakfast, more hot rotis with lovely dahl and some hot, sweet tea to wash it all down. The roti has an amazing ability to be sweet, salty, dense and fluffy, all at the same time. I tell ya, them Indians know how to do dough!
I wandered the streets of Georgetown, admiring the sights and stopping for a lime juice from a street vendor on the boardwalk next to the sea. In the evening, I ran into Monique the Yogi and she introduced me to a lovely couple from Kentucky, two English teachers based in Bangkok. I haven't met many Americans on the road but the ones that are traveling have been pretty cool and much more enlightened than stereotyping would have us all believe. Kofi joined us later and we all trooped down to the local sidewalk pub for some open air drinks. It was hard to fend off attention with our group: a petite redhead, a tall skinny blonde, a black man, a large and affable American, and me. There was a constant stream of visitors coming over to our table to chat.
Once we'd had enough of the social musical chairs, we wandered in search of food. A very enthusiastic young woman at the Tourism Malaysia office had told me earlier about late-night eats, saying to look for the big lineup of people next to the Kapitan Mosque. Sure enough, the line at Nasi Kandar stretched to the kerb even at 1am. The food was delicious rice and many different curries, and it was worth the wait!
On my second day in Penang, I hopped on the city bus and ventured to Penang Hill to enjoy the beautiful view of the city and the "refreshing temperatures" - only in Asia is 27 degrees Celsius considered cool weather. Later, I explored the Kok Lek Si Temple, which is really a shrine to the gods of retail. To get to the actual temple, you have to walk up many steps through a gauntlet of shops and vendors. Here, I had the best example of bartering by walking away. With every step I took, the vendor-lady called out a lower price until the tee-shirt I'd examined went from 50 ringgits all the way down to 10. An excellent deal - and thank the gods for that!
It seems to rain at least once a day in Malaysia, a downpour every afternoon. But there are always pleasant ways to pass the time. I was booking my onward bus journey on Lebuh Muntri when the downpour began on my last night in Georgetown. The obliging travel agent/guesthouse owner just happened to sell beer. So I hunkered down with a Malaysian Jaz and chatted with the other travelers waiting out the weather: an Australian teacher on a visa run from Indonesia and a young Quebecois couple traveling with their four-year-old son. We braved the endless rain and scooted down the street to the Red Garden Food Paradise for some amazing Malaysian food.
So far, I've been surprised by Malaysia. I didn't expect much but I found nice company, excellent food, lovely scenes and comfortable food around every corner. My next stop is Melaka - lots of love to everyone back home.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Lazy languid lovely...Ko Pan Ngan
I've been slacking on the blogging these days...life is just so darned relaxed! I've been on the beach in Ko Pan Ngan for a week and it feels like only a moment.
The trip down south from Chiang Mai was a bit epic. I took the night train to Bangkok, then the day train to Surat Thani. The train actually arrives in Phu Phin, so was a pick-up truck taxi into Surat Thani. After a very welcome night's sleep, I got back on another bus to the ferry terminal. After a three-hour ferry ride and another pick-up truck taxi, I was squishing the sand between my toes just 48 hours since I left Chiang Mai.
Along the way, I met Kofi, a Canadian-Jamaican artist, former jock and part-time Rasta-man. He is Zen personified - the perfect person for me to meet coming out of my meditation retreat! We've spent many chilled out days on the beach, slowly sipping our pineapple juices, really tasting our food and feeling the moments. We're on the west coast of Ko Pan Ngan at Haad Yao beach, which is a good distance away from the bustling main tourist town of Haad Rin.
Ko Pan Ngan is famous for its full moon parties when thousands (sometimes tens of thousands) of travellers descend on Haad Rin for a drug-infested, all-night, rock-out dance party. I purposely avoided Full Mooning and arrived a week after the monthly party to find Haad Yao very quiet and relaxed. There are lots of couples and families, very few hawkers on the beach, and lots of seafood restos and massage huts.
The days go by both slow and quick: we've had leisurely breakfasts and nice swims in the morning when the tide is high. The water is that classic aquamarine that you see in movies and magazines, framed by palm trees. I've never been to a more beautiful beach. Afternoons have usually been nap-time for me, or a chance to continue reading my excellent book in the hammock. Evenings we settled down with a Chang beer or a Mai Tai to watch the sun go down and eat lovely food on the beach by candlelight and starlight. My favourite is spicy papaya salad, with peanuts and shrimp and drizzled with a sweet/salty/sour dressing of lime juice, fish sauce, garlic, etc. The weather is consistently sunny, with the occasional down-pour of hot rain. This place must be paradise because it is amazing even when it rains.
We rented a motorbike one day, which was the great extent of our activities. I realized that I hadn't left this little strip of beach in five days so it was good to get out and see the island. It doesn't take long to drive the length of the island and mostly you see the same thing: gorgeous beaches, mountains covered in lush palm trees, relaxed and happy people.
There's not much more to report. Thailand has been the perfect dénouement to my travels around South East Asia. I head to Malaysia tomorrow, on my way south back to Singapore. Hopefully I'll have more exciting things to write about next time! Lots of love to everyone back home.
The trip down south from Chiang Mai was a bit epic. I took the night train to Bangkok, then the day train to Surat Thani. The train actually arrives in Phu Phin, so was a pick-up truck taxi into Surat Thani. After a very welcome night's sleep, I got back on another bus to the ferry terminal. After a three-hour ferry ride and another pick-up truck taxi, I was squishing the sand between my toes just 48 hours since I left Chiang Mai.
Along the way, I met Kofi, a Canadian-Jamaican artist, former jock and part-time Rasta-man. He is Zen personified - the perfect person for me to meet coming out of my meditation retreat! We've spent many chilled out days on the beach, slowly sipping our pineapple juices, really tasting our food and feeling the moments. We're on the west coast of Ko Pan Ngan at Haad Yao beach, which is a good distance away from the bustling main tourist town of Haad Rin.
Ko Pan Ngan is famous for its full moon parties when thousands (sometimes tens of thousands) of travellers descend on Haad Rin for a drug-infested, all-night, rock-out dance party. I purposely avoided Full Mooning and arrived a week after the monthly party to find Haad Yao very quiet and relaxed. There are lots of couples and families, very few hawkers on the beach, and lots of seafood restos and massage huts.
The days go by both slow and quick: we've had leisurely breakfasts and nice swims in the morning when the tide is high. The water is that classic aquamarine that you see in movies and magazines, framed by palm trees. I've never been to a more beautiful beach. Afternoons have usually been nap-time for me, or a chance to continue reading my excellent book in the hammock. Evenings we settled down with a Chang beer or a Mai Tai to watch the sun go down and eat lovely food on the beach by candlelight and starlight. My favourite is spicy papaya salad, with peanuts and shrimp and drizzled with a sweet/salty/sour dressing of lime juice, fish sauce, garlic, etc. The weather is consistently sunny, with the occasional down-pour of hot rain. This place must be paradise because it is amazing even when it rains.
We rented a motorbike one day, which was the great extent of our activities. I realized that I hadn't left this little strip of beach in five days so it was good to get out and see the island. It doesn't take long to drive the length of the island and mostly you see the same thing: gorgeous beaches, mountains covered in lush palm trees, relaxed and happy people.
There's not much more to report. Thailand has been the perfect dénouement to my travels around South East Asia. I head to Malaysia tomorrow, on my way south back to Singapore. Hopefully I'll have more exciting things to write about next time! Lots of love to everyone back home.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Happy Buddha
Hello! I haven't written in so long. Silence has been a theme these past two weeks. Yes, I'm into the solo part of my travels. Vietnam was very social and I really appreciated all the friends I made. But I've been craving some quiet time...and I sure got it.
The train ride from Bangkok to Chiang Mai was great: twelve hours passed very quickly in my comfy 2nd class sleeper berth. With a big pillow, clean sheets and warm blanket, it was easy to get a good night's sleep en route. In the morning, I was magically transported to the dry and mountainous north. Chiang Mai is a charming city, although it is a little bigger than I expected. I'm staying very close to the Thapae Gate, just outside the walled city and moat area. There is constant traffic around the city and I was surprised to see not one but about seven Starbucks coffee shops! Very strange. I haven't been doing much in Chiang Mai, just wandering and eating and devouring books. I spent a day at the pool. Another day, I rented a bike and tootled around but sometimes found the traffic a bit harrying. The night markets are pretty cool with lots of great, cheap food. But I had to avert my eyes from all the lovely things on sale.
I took the bus four hours north through the mountains to Pai to visit Rex and Aroon. I met Rex in Singapore; he is a friend of Carol Wee (do you remember the Queen of Singapore?). Rex and Aroon are Singaporean and Thai, respectively, and they are old hippies who live on a hill. The days with them were groovy: strong sweet tea in the morning, lounge around till brunch, maybe play some guitar (Rex is a whiz at flamenco style), lay in the hammock, etc. Rex was often killing time until 5pm, when Aroon decreed that he could open his first beer. I biked around the neighbourhood, into town and around the countryside. They took me to the hot springs for dinner and dip on my first night. Another day, we undertook a big hike into the woods to find a waterfall that Rex's friend told him about. We waded in the stream for hours, which cooled us in the dry heat. Eventually we were rewarded when we came upon a lovely waterfall where we had a nice lunch of egg-and-cheese sandwiches, followed by a dip in the cool water. It was really nice for me to have a homestay after two months in hotels and guesthouses. On my last night, I took over the kitchen and made spaghetti carbonara, Thai-style. Rex is a real foodie and wanted me to make something he wouldn't normally have. It was great to cook again and try a familiar recipe using new ingredients.
Back in Chiang Mai, I had just enough time to re-pack my bags and have another bite of the night market. On Friday morning, I set off for Wat Doi Suthep, a Buddhist temple on the mountain above Chiang Mai. My mission? A three-day Buddhist meditation retreat. I was a bit nervous about the retreat: the days started at 5am and ended at 10pm, no eating of solid foods allowed after noon, no books, magazines, notebooks or ipods, no sleeping during the day, etc. Oh, and no speaking to anyone except 15 minutes a day with the teacher-monk during progress report. Aside from about two hours of set activities, all I was to do was meditate and contemplate for the rest of the day. All participants wore loose white clothing. At first, it was very hard to just...do nothing. But by the end, I was serene and content. I've been wishing for a time when I wouldn't have to do anything or worry about anything or accomplish anything. Here was my chance - and I came to relish it.
Doi Suthep temple is an amazing complex. You have to climb about 300 stairs to reach the compound. The main temple area is wonderfully ornate, with a huge golden stuppa and countless statues of Buddha in every precious metal. This is a popular destination for tourists so the temple was abuzz during the day. I mostly avoided the hubbub, sticking to the meditation centre, which was tucked away in a quiet garden behind the temple. I spent a lot of time in the big, airy meditation halls or sitting under a tree in the garden. In the evening, the climax of the day was to go to the temple, now empty of tourists, and witness the nightly chanting of the monks and novices. I could sit for an entire hour, entranced by the sounds, and not even realize that so much time went by. It was very interesting to live amongst the temple community for a few days: it was like a little city with lots of monks, nuns, novices, and countless temple boys who kept the place very clean and tidy. Amazingly, the whole experience was free (donations welcome). I had simple but comfortable accommodation and the most amazing vegetarian meals. Three days was not enough and it was hard to come back down the mountain. Someday, I'd like to do the 21-day Foundation Course in meditation there.
Well, I could go on and on about my Doi Suthep experience, but I'm sure you get the idea. For now, I'm back in Chiang Mai and preparing for another night-train experience. This time, I'm headed south. I'll only stop in Bangkok long enough to change trains for Surat Thani. Next stop: the beach! Yes, I felt a little decadent leaving the meditation retreat because I "have" to go to the beach...but I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunity for meditation surfside. More news from the road to follow - lots of love to everyone back home.
The train ride from Bangkok to Chiang Mai was great: twelve hours passed very quickly in my comfy 2nd class sleeper berth. With a big pillow, clean sheets and warm blanket, it was easy to get a good night's sleep en route. In the morning, I was magically transported to the dry and mountainous north. Chiang Mai is a charming city, although it is a little bigger than I expected. I'm staying very close to the Thapae Gate, just outside the walled city and moat area. There is constant traffic around the city and I was surprised to see not one but about seven Starbucks coffee shops! Very strange. I haven't been doing much in Chiang Mai, just wandering and eating and devouring books. I spent a day at the pool. Another day, I rented a bike and tootled around but sometimes found the traffic a bit harrying. The night markets are pretty cool with lots of great, cheap food. But I had to avert my eyes from all the lovely things on sale.
I took the bus four hours north through the mountains to Pai to visit Rex and Aroon. I met Rex in Singapore; he is a friend of Carol Wee (do you remember the Queen of Singapore?). Rex and Aroon are Singaporean and Thai, respectively, and they are old hippies who live on a hill. The days with them were groovy: strong sweet tea in the morning, lounge around till brunch, maybe play some guitar (Rex is a whiz at flamenco style), lay in the hammock, etc. Rex was often killing time until 5pm, when Aroon decreed that he could open his first beer. I biked around the neighbourhood, into town and around the countryside. They took me to the hot springs for dinner and dip on my first night. Another day, we undertook a big hike into the woods to find a waterfall that Rex's friend told him about. We waded in the stream for hours, which cooled us in the dry heat. Eventually we were rewarded when we came upon a lovely waterfall where we had a nice lunch of egg-and-cheese sandwiches, followed by a dip in the cool water. It was really nice for me to have a homestay after two months in hotels and guesthouses. On my last night, I took over the kitchen and made spaghetti carbonara, Thai-style. Rex is a real foodie and wanted me to make something he wouldn't normally have. It was great to cook again and try a familiar recipe using new ingredients.
Back in Chiang Mai, I had just enough time to re-pack my bags and have another bite of the night market. On Friday morning, I set off for Wat Doi Suthep, a Buddhist temple on the mountain above Chiang Mai. My mission? A three-day Buddhist meditation retreat. I was a bit nervous about the retreat: the days started at 5am and ended at 10pm, no eating of solid foods allowed after noon, no books, magazines, notebooks or ipods, no sleeping during the day, etc. Oh, and no speaking to anyone except 15 minutes a day with the teacher-monk during progress report. Aside from about two hours of set activities, all I was to do was meditate and contemplate for the rest of the day. All participants wore loose white clothing. At first, it was very hard to just...do nothing. But by the end, I was serene and content. I've been wishing for a time when I wouldn't have to do anything or worry about anything or accomplish anything. Here was my chance - and I came to relish it.
Doi Suthep temple is an amazing complex. You have to climb about 300 stairs to reach the compound. The main temple area is wonderfully ornate, with a huge golden stuppa and countless statues of Buddha in every precious metal. This is a popular destination for tourists so the temple was abuzz during the day. I mostly avoided the hubbub, sticking to the meditation centre, which was tucked away in a quiet garden behind the temple. I spent a lot of time in the big, airy meditation halls or sitting under a tree in the garden. In the evening, the climax of the day was to go to the temple, now empty of tourists, and witness the nightly chanting of the monks and novices. I could sit for an entire hour, entranced by the sounds, and not even realize that so much time went by. It was very interesting to live amongst the temple community for a few days: it was like a little city with lots of monks, nuns, novices, and countless temple boys who kept the place very clean and tidy. Amazingly, the whole experience was free (donations welcome). I had simple but comfortable accommodation and the most amazing vegetarian meals. Three days was not enough and it was hard to come back down the mountain. Someday, I'd like to do the 21-day Foundation Course in meditation there.
Well, I could go on and on about my Doi Suthep experience, but I'm sure you get the idea. For now, I'm back in Chiang Mai and preparing for another night-train experience. This time, I'm headed south. I'll only stop in Bangkok long enough to change trains for Surat Thani. Next stop: the beach! Yes, I felt a little decadent leaving the meditation retreat because I "have" to go to the beach...but I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunity for meditation surfside. More news from the road to follow - lots of love to everyone back home.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Bangkokism
Bankgok is a verb unto itself. I'm here for the second time in six weeks...and what a difference the time has made. No longer the nervous travel newbie I was in early January: I felt relaxed as I arrived in the backpacker neighbourhood of Banglamphu, home of the famous Khao San Road. Short weeks ago I flew to Bangkok with dread. Just read the Lonely Planet and you'd be freaked out too: purse snatchers, flea-bag rooms, travel scams, etc. But my Bangkok has been good to me, welcoming me back like an old friend.
Now that I'm a travel veteran (haha), I know how things work a little better. From the airport, I shared a taxi with two other backpackers instead of coming into town alone. We took the escalator up to the departures level and caught a cab as it dropped another passenger off. The price? 250 baht instead of the usual 500 reserved for foolish first-timers. Back in Banglamphu, I knew my way through the back alleys and got a great room at the Bella Bella Guesthouse, where I stayed last time.
Since I know my way around the neighbourhood, I easily sought out my favourites: a comforting ham and cheese sandwich on fresh baked bread at Wild Orchid Villa, spicy noodles with seafood and a Chang beer at Tuk Tuk resto, and a delicious fresh-squeezed orange juice from the nicest street vendor. You can get anything in Bangkok, at any time of day. And cheap! My noodle dish was 50 baht, which is about $1.75 Canadian. The juice was only 25 baht. With these prices and tastes, you could eat all day. On my walk home from the internet cafe around 10pm, the street vendors were just starting their night selling their creations: pad thai made to order, fresh fruit shakes from any exotic fruit imaginable, banana pancakes drizzled with chocolate, mango sticky rice, etc.
The city gets a late start, especially at weekends; evenings are pumping and it doesn't stop until dawn. You can buy every kind of vice here - pirated dvds and books, tons of clothes, rich food, booze, tobacco, and of course, sex. Many men come here as sex tourists and there is a hunger in their eyes. It is so strange to see. Combine this with the fact that I couldn't stop staring at the first lady-boy I saw on the street...and I realize that I'm not such a hardened traveler after all.
I met up with English Elliott, a Bangkok veteran, and he's been showing me his Bangkok outside of the backpacker bubble. He stumbled into Khao San around 8pm on Sunday and I minded his bags while he hunted for a room. By 10pm, we were ready for a night out, Bangkok-style. W hopped in a tuk-tuk into the city and went to Tawan Dang, a massive German beer garden with an excellent live band. Elliott speaks pretty good Thai and is quite a charmer so we got the best table: front row, center. It was a lively crowd with flowing beer and endless dishes of Thai food.
After the show, I got my first glimpse of Patpong, Bangkok's red-light district. Walking down Patpong's alleys, you catch glimpses into the girlie bars where bikini-clad bar girls dance on a stage. Elliott and I hunkered down over some Mai Tais at a regular bar and gawked at the sex tourists walking by with their "dates." Elliott's assessment of the situation was brilliant, said in his London accent: "These blokes are here because they couldn't pull a bird back home." After we finished our drinks, we wandered a bit more but soon became tired of the touts with their menus of tricks performed by bar girls: "Come to our show! What you want? We have pussy ping pong, pussy smoke a cigarette, pussy write a letter, etc. You come in, no charge!" Plus, Elliott, being a staunch heterosexual, almost went blind when we walked down the gay alley and he glimpsed some nubile young Thai men dancing enthusiastically in white g-strings . At 4am, it was time to go home.
During the rest of my time in Bangkok, I've enjoyed the tourist comforts and relative quiet in Banglamphu and explored the flashy Siam Square district, marvelling at this city in which luxury shopping centres juxtapose gleaming white air-con Louis Vuitton stores against the chaos and congestion of the streets outside. At first I took cabs for about 100 baht per ride ($3.50 CAD) but then I realized that the public bus was just as fast and only 7 baht (about 25 cents). The average temperature is 37 degrees Celsius in the day and a balmy 27 degrees at night. In this heat, you can't move too fast and I stop constantly to rehydrate and maintain my blood sugar levels. Thankfully, street vendors sell refreshingly sweet iced tea or slices of mango with a packet of sugar and chili for dipping.
On my last night in Bangkok, I met with Elliott for a farewell drink at Moon Bar on the 61st floor of the Banyan Tree Hotel. Since I only spent 7 baht getting there on the bus, I guess I can justify spending 300 baht on a martini? The view of the city was amazing and the colours were beautiful as the sun went down: a pink aura against white buildings. Yes, Bangkok has been good to me.
Today, I'm killing time before my night train to Chiang Mai, trying to stay cool. More stories from Northern Thailand to follow soon...lots of love to everyone back home.
Now that I'm a travel veteran (haha), I know how things work a little better. From the airport, I shared a taxi with two other backpackers instead of coming into town alone. We took the escalator up to the departures level and caught a cab as it dropped another passenger off. The price? 250 baht instead of the usual 500 reserved for foolish first-timers. Back in Banglamphu, I knew my way through the back alleys and got a great room at the Bella Bella Guesthouse, where I stayed last time.
Since I know my way around the neighbourhood, I easily sought out my favourites: a comforting ham and cheese sandwich on fresh baked bread at Wild Orchid Villa, spicy noodles with seafood and a Chang beer at Tuk Tuk resto, and a delicious fresh-squeezed orange juice from the nicest street vendor. You can get anything in Bangkok, at any time of day. And cheap! My noodle dish was 50 baht, which is about $1.75 Canadian. The juice was only 25 baht. With these prices and tastes, you could eat all day. On my walk home from the internet cafe around 10pm, the street vendors were just starting their night selling their creations: pad thai made to order, fresh fruit shakes from any exotic fruit imaginable, banana pancakes drizzled with chocolate, mango sticky rice, etc.
The city gets a late start, especially at weekends; evenings are pumping and it doesn't stop until dawn. You can buy every kind of vice here - pirated dvds and books, tons of clothes, rich food, booze, tobacco, and of course, sex. Many men come here as sex tourists and there is a hunger in their eyes. It is so strange to see. Combine this with the fact that I couldn't stop staring at the first lady-boy I saw on the street...and I realize that I'm not such a hardened traveler after all.
I met up with English Elliott, a Bangkok veteran, and he's been showing me his Bangkok outside of the backpacker bubble. He stumbled into Khao San around 8pm on Sunday and I minded his bags while he hunted for a room. By 10pm, we were ready for a night out, Bangkok-style. W hopped in a tuk-tuk into the city and went to Tawan Dang, a massive German beer garden with an excellent live band. Elliott speaks pretty good Thai and is quite a charmer so we got the best table: front row, center. It was a lively crowd with flowing beer and endless dishes of Thai food.
After the show, I got my first glimpse of Patpong, Bangkok's red-light district. Walking down Patpong's alleys, you catch glimpses into the girlie bars where bikini-clad bar girls dance on a stage. Elliott and I hunkered down over some Mai Tais at a regular bar and gawked at the sex tourists walking by with their "dates." Elliott's assessment of the situation was brilliant, said in his London accent: "These blokes are here because they couldn't pull a bird back home." After we finished our drinks, we wandered a bit more but soon became tired of the touts with their menus of tricks performed by bar girls: "Come to our show! What you want? We have pussy ping pong, pussy smoke a cigarette, pussy write a letter, etc. You come in, no charge!" Plus, Elliott, being a staunch heterosexual, almost went blind when we walked down the gay alley and he glimpsed some nubile young Thai men dancing enthusiastically in white g-strings . At 4am, it was time to go home.
During the rest of my time in Bangkok, I've enjoyed the tourist comforts and relative quiet in Banglamphu and explored the flashy Siam Square district, marvelling at this city in which luxury shopping centres juxtapose gleaming white air-con Louis Vuitton stores against the chaos and congestion of the streets outside. At first I took cabs for about 100 baht per ride ($3.50 CAD) but then I realized that the public bus was just as fast and only 7 baht (about 25 cents). The average temperature is 37 degrees Celsius in the day and a balmy 27 degrees at night. In this heat, you can't move too fast and I stop constantly to rehydrate and maintain my blood sugar levels. Thankfully, street vendors sell refreshingly sweet iced tea or slices of mango with a packet of sugar and chili for dipping.
On my last night in Bangkok, I met with Elliott for a farewell drink at Moon Bar on the 61st floor of the Banyan Tree Hotel. Since I only spent 7 baht getting there on the bus, I guess I can justify spending 300 baht on a martini? The view of the city was amazing and the colours were beautiful as the sun went down: a pink aura against white buildings. Yes, Bangkok has been good to me.
Today, I'm killing time before my night train to Chiang Mai, trying to stay cool. More stories from Northern Thailand to follow soon...lots of love to everyone back home.
Vietnam Photos
I've posted some of my favourite Vietnam snapshots below: junks in Halong Bay, three beautiful girls whom I met on the road, me and moto on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, a vendor in the Hoi An market and...my favourite pic from a road-side public toilet. Sometimes, you gotta pay to pee and this picture say it all.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Road Pineapples on the Ho Chi Minh trail...(and last days in Vietnam)
On my first day in Hoi An, I finally succumbed to the Easy Riders (Vietnamese motorcycle guides) and booked a two-day moto trip from Hoi An to Hué. It was a good thing that I planned my exit from Hoi An early - I could have stayed there and shopped forever. My driver Thong picked me up on Saturday morning from my hotel in Hoi An, strapped my pack to the back of his bike...and we were off!
Taking the back roads on a moto, you see the real countryside. This is very different from bus trips along Highway One. My driver took the route westward, up through the mountains toward the border with Laos. We stopped at a remote waterfall and Thong motioned for me to wander down a dirt path. "You take your time, no problem." Everything was no problem for Thong. I scampered down the path, over rocks and through the woods, and came to a remote waterfall. The water was fresh and cool in the pool below and I took a refreshing dip. Later, I sampled the freshest pineapple ever at a collection station where pineapples are brought down from the high hills to be loaded on trucks and taken to the cities. Thong peeled the pineapple and I ate the entire thing. Then, we strapped one onto the back of the bike: a pineapple for the road.
The rest of the trip is a bit of a blur: riding up and up we wound our way along proud mountains in the Vietnamese countryside, visited minority villages, stopped for delicious meals and coffees, etc. The trip was too short and I would have continued for another week if I'd had the time and money. On Sunday afternoon, Thong took me to the beautiful tomb of a Bao Dai, the emperor of the Nguyen dynasty. Then it was a short ride along the Perfume River to hip hip Hué, the Imperial City! I didn't have much time in Hué - less than 20 hours to have a lovely dinner with Dana and Graeme and tour the Citadel of the Forbidden City in the morning.
I flew to Hanoi on Monday because the flight was the same price as the train (and 12 hours shorter). The Old Quarter of Hanoi is a warren of winding streets, full of life: motos, people, vendors, colour, noise, smells. Each of the 36 streets in the Old Quarter specializes in the sale of a particular item and is named after its merchandise. My hotel is just off of Hang Thiec, which is "Sheet Metal Lane" - my dad would love it! There are also streets for bamboo, for watches, for cafes, for flowers, etc.
I've met some new friends in Hanoi: Nathaniel from San Francisco and Marcel from Switzerland. They are very adventurous travellers, always looking for an interesting experience or a good bargain. We all took an overnight boat trip together to Halong Bay to explore the caves and go kayaking. Back in Hanoi, we've had many meals from street-side vendors, squatting at low tables over bowls of soup or fried noodles or Vietnamese coffee (super strong and super sweet). We went to see the Vietnamese Water Puppets show and I even ventured to the outskirts of town with the boys to sample dog meat! It was pretty good, but kinda freaky to if you think about it too much.
Life speeds on here on the road and the time is passing quickly. Tomorrow my Vietnam visa expires and I fly to Bangkok for a month in Thailand. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Taking the back roads on a moto, you see the real countryside. This is very different from bus trips along Highway One. My driver took the route westward, up through the mountains toward the border with Laos. We stopped at a remote waterfall and Thong motioned for me to wander down a dirt path. "You take your time, no problem." Everything was no problem for Thong. I scampered down the path, over rocks and through the woods, and came to a remote waterfall. The water was fresh and cool in the pool below and I took a refreshing dip. Later, I sampled the freshest pineapple ever at a collection station where pineapples are brought down from the high hills to be loaded on trucks and taken to the cities. Thong peeled the pineapple and I ate the entire thing. Then, we strapped one onto the back of the bike: a pineapple for the road.
The rest of the trip is a bit of a blur: riding up and up we wound our way along proud mountains in the Vietnamese countryside, visited minority villages, stopped for delicious meals and coffees, etc. The trip was too short and I would have continued for another week if I'd had the time and money. On Sunday afternoon, Thong took me to the beautiful tomb of a Bao Dai, the emperor of the Nguyen dynasty. Then it was a short ride along the Perfume River to hip hip Hué, the Imperial City! I didn't have much time in Hué - less than 20 hours to have a lovely dinner with Dana and Graeme and tour the Citadel of the Forbidden City in the morning.
I flew to Hanoi on Monday because the flight was the same price as the train (and 12 hours shorter). The Old Quarter of Hanoi is a warren of winding streets, full of life: motos, people, vendors, colour, noise, smells. Each of the 36 streets in the Old Quarter specializes in the sale of a particular item and is named after its merchandise. My hotel is just off of Hang Thiec, which is "Sheet Metal Lane" - my dad would love it! There are also streets for bamboo, for watches, for cafes, for flowers, etc.
I've met some new friends in Hanoi: Nathaniel from San Francisco and Marcel from Switzerland. They are very adventurous travellers, always looking for an interesting experience or a good bargain. We all took an overnight boat trip together to Halong Bay to explore the caves and go kayaking. Back in Hanoi, we've had many meals from street-side vendors, squatting at low tables over bowls of soup or fried noodles or Vietnamese coffee (super strong and super sweet). We went to see the Vietnamese Water Puppets show and I even ventured to the outskirts of town with the boys to sample dog meat! It was pretty good, but kinda freaky to if you think about it too much.
Life speeds on here on the road and the time is passing quickly. Tomorrow my Vietnam visa expires and I fly to Bangkok for a month in Thailand. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Four days in heavenly Hoi An
My friends, I've reached the promised land. Hoi An is the Vietnam we imagine: scenic, charismatic, idyllic. The town is a small village along a sweet river, with lush rice paddies and vegetables fields all around. Old Hoi An is a dream with narrow streets, beautiful yellow buildings and inviting restaurants and shops. Things are bustling down at the market and everywhere tailors hawk their wares. But Hoi An is different: the locals are very relaxed and smile easily. And, wonder upon wonder, it is so quiet here! While the rest of Vietnam seems to march to a cacophony, Hoi An drifts along in sweet silence.
I arrived early in the morning on Tuesday, unceremoniously dumped out of the night bus. It is hard for the body to get over half-sleepless nights spent in transport, but after a shower and a nap I was ready to live again. Having spent too much time thinking in Nha Trang, I immediately set about to plan some activities. When I was a brooding teenager, my mother (the gym teacher) used to say, " Get out of your mind and into your body!" So I signed up for a cooking course, made arrangements for a tour to some temples, and...visited the tailor.
Hoi An is known as the best place in Vietnam to have clothes and shoes custom-made. The tailors here are masters of imitation: you just show them a photo or drawing of what you want, they take your measurements and...tadaah! Twenty-four hours later, you have beautiful clothes which fit you perfectly. I must say that having clothes made is very addictive. You can't help but feel like a rock star when you slip away from a lunch date saying, "Oh, please excuse me - I have a fitting with my tailor."
I feel like I can justify my shopping spree because I'm starting my job as a lawyer soon and I'll need to wear suits everyday. Also, if I need any further justification, I can just tell myself that I'm single-handedly curing the world of that economic crisis I keep hearing murmurs about. Now, let's not get into the nitty-gritty about how many suits and dresses and shoes, or what fabrics and colours, or how much it cost to have it all made and shipped home. Suffice it to say that I now have a different outfit for each day of the work-week and enough dress shirts to last through two weeks of not doing laundry. My favourites? The navy suit with white pinstripes just screams powersuit. And I feel like a princess in the black chiffon cocktail dress.
When I wasn't at the tailor's, Hoi An turned out to be a very social place. I hung out with Canadian Luke, met up with Elliott and the Aussie girls and ran into Dana and Graeme, an Aussie/Kiwi couple (respectively) that I met briefly in Sihanoukville. On Tuesday night, about twelve of us all trundled down to Mr. Rin's outdoor cafe and sat on benches or stools at low tables - the bia hoi flowed (4000 dong a glass) and we ordered endless dishes of Hoi An specialities: fried wonton cakes topped with shrimp and vegetables, white rose (which is a very delicate steamed wonton in rice-paper wrapping), sweet and sour squid and Hoi An pancakes.
I was still feeling the effects of the bia hoi the next morning when I had to get up to join the tour to My Son, which is a famous Cham temple nearby. I fumbled down to the hotel lobby only to find that it was pouring with rain. At first, I regretted booking the tour but it turned out beautifully: the rain only enhanced the misty and lush atmosphere at the ruins, which are set in a jungle valley surrounded by mountains. Also, I met a ton of people during the tour. It is great to just chat with people because you hear so many interesting stories and meet kindred spirits.
Wednesday night was Luke's last night in Hoi An and we commemorated our traveling times together with a feast by the river, complete with a bottle of Dalat wine. I was sad to see him leave the next morning and was thankful to have my cooking class to distract me. This was another amazing activity: an interactive tour of the Hoi An market, a boat cruise down the river to the Redbridge Cooking School, great demonstrations and the chance to cook (and eat!) some of Hoi An's specialties. I especially liked learning to make fresh rice paper - so much better than the dried stuff. After a fabulous lunch of never-ending courses, I took a refreshing dip in the pool at the cooking school and lounged with my book riverside, surrounded by palm trees and frangipani.
On my last day in Hoi An, I finalized my fittings and shipping of all my purchases. Then I hired a bicycle and wound my way slowly to Cua Dai beach for a bit of R&R. The beach was wide and empty, with fine white sand and palm trees - just lovely. On Friday night, my tailor Thuy took me out for an amazing dinner. I guess I was the best customer she'd had in a while so she was grateful. We hoped on her moto and sped around the back streets of Hoi An until we reached a local resto. Of course, I was the only non-Vietnamese and Thuy ordered copious amounts of food: Hoi An shrimp pancakes, grilled meat, spring rolls, pickled veg, peanut soup, etc. I ate until I could eat no more. Thuy dropped me at my hotel and it was farewell to Hoi An.
More stories from the road to follow...lots of love to everyone back home.
I arrived early in the morning on Tuesday, unceremoniously dumped out of the night bus. It is hard for the body to get over half-sleepless nights spent in transport, but after a shower and a nap I was ready to live again. Having spent too much time thinking in Nha Trang, I immediately set about to plan some activities. When I was a brooding teenager, my mother (the gym teacher) used to say, " Get out of your mind and into your body!" So I signed up for a cooking course, made arrangements for a tour to some temples, and...visited the tailor.
Hoi An is known as the best place in Vietnam to have clothes and shoes custom-made. The tailors here are masters of imitation: you just show them a photo or drawing of what you want, they take your measurements and...tadaah! Twenty-four hours later, you have beautiful clothes which fit you perfectly. I must say that having clothes made is very addictive. You can't help but feel like a rock star when you slip away from a lunch date saying, "Oh, please excuse me - I have a fitting with my tailor."
I feel like I can justify my shopping spree because I'm starting my job as a lawyer soon and I'll need to wear suits everyday. Also, if I need any further justification, I can just tell myself that I'm single-handedly curing the world of that economic crisis I keep hearing murmurs about. Now, let's not get into the nitty-gritty about how many suits and dresses and shoes, or what fabrics and colours, or how much it cost to have it all made and shipped home. Suffice it to say that I now have a different outfit for each day of the work-week and enough dress shirts to last through two weeks of not doing laundry. My favourites? The navy suit with white pinstripes just screams powersuit. And I feel like a princess in the black chiffon cocktail dress.
When I wasn't at the tailor's, Hoi An turned out to be a very social place. I hung out with Canadian Luke, met up with Elliott and the Aussie girls and ran into Dana and Graeme, an Aussie/Kiwi couple (respectively) that I met briefly in Sihanoukville. On Tuesday night, about twelve of us all trundled down to Mr. Rin's outdoor cafe and sat on benches or stools at low tables - the bia hoi flowed (4000 dong a glass) and we ordered endless dishes of Hoi An specialities: fried wonton cakes topped with shrimp and vegetables, white rose (which is a very delicate steamed wonton in rice-paper wrapping), sweet and sour squid and Hoi An pancakes.
I was still feeling the effects of the bia hoi the next morning when I had to get up to join the tour to My Son, which is a famous Cham temple nearby. I fumbled down to the hotel lobby only to find that it was pouring with rain. At first, I regretted booking the tour but it turned out beautifully: the rain only enhanced the misty and lush atmosphere at the ruins, which are set in a jungle valley surrounded by mountains. Also, I met a ton of people during the tour. It is great to just chat with people because you hear so many interesting stories and meet kindred spirits.
Wednesday night was Luke's last night in Hoi An and we commemorated our traveling times together with a feast by the river, complete with a bottle of Dalat wine. I was sad to see him leave the next morning and was thankful to have my cooking class to distract me. This was another amazing activity: an interactive tour of the Hoi An market, a boat cruise down the river to the Redbridge Cooking School, great demonstrations and the chance to cook (and eat!) some of Hoi An's specialties. I especially liked learning to make fresh rice paper - so much better than the dried stuff. After a fabulous lunch of never-ending courses, I took a refreshing dip in the pool at the cooking school and lounged with my book riverside, surrounded by palm trees and frangipani.
On my last day in Hoi An, I finalized my fittings and shipping of all my purchases. Then I hired a bicycle and wound my way slowly to Cua Dai beach for a bit of R&R. The beach was wide and empty, with fine white sand and palm trees - just lovely. On Friday night, my tailor Thuy took me out for an amazing dinner. I guess I was the best customer she'd had in a while so she was grateful. We hoped on her moto and sped around the back streets of Hoi An until we reached a local resto. Of course, I was the only non-Vietnamese and Thuy ordered copious amounts of food: Hoi An shrimp pancakes, grilled meat, spring rolls, pickled veg, peanut soup, etc. I ate until I could eat no more. Thuy dropped me at my hotel and it was farewell to Hoi An.
More stories from the road to follow...lots of love to everyone back home.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Questions (and Answers?) at the Nha Trang crossroads
Nha Trang has been a quiet stop for me. I fell ill on my second day here and I've spent a lot of time sleeping in my room. Thank goodness, it is a very nice room with a west-facing balcony, private bathroom with hot water, fridge and tv (for the amazing price of $8 US). Once I was feeling better, I made it as far as the beach to lounge on a chair under the shade of a palm-frond hut.
The drive from Dalat to Nha Trang was most beautiful: winding down from the mountains and then along the white-sand coast. At a rest stop back down on the flat land, I stepped off the bus and remembered: humidity! Dalat was an unusual cool breeze in this hot and humid trek across South East Asia.
Nha Trang is a crossroads in that it connects Dalat to the main highway, mountain to plain, sky to sea. A little cutie called Hui was waiting for me at the bus station, holding a sign with my name on it. She whisked me to the Viet Hai guesthouse on her little white moto and she's been taking care of me ever since, asking if I feel better and checking in on me.
I met up with Tim and Helen, from PEI, again in Nha Trang and we had a great beach day together. They are so easy-going and positive - I could spend a lot of time in their company. But they had to hop a flight to Ho Chi Minh City and continue on to Macau for their flight home to our wintery Island. They spoiled me before they left, taking me out for lunch and giving me their Vietnamese phrasebook and leftover bottle of peanut butter (which is QUITE a luxury in these parts).
Nha Trang town is surprisingly quiet, especially in the tourist quarter. Things get busier down towards the market and being a pedestrian is a little treacherous. I started to tire a little of being gouged just because I'm a foreigner. I mean, how could 20 Gravols cost 12000 dong at the local pharmacy (less than $1 Canadian) but a bunch of bananas was 20000 dong at the market (closer to $2 Canadian). Strange, but I guess people have to make a living somehow.
I must admit that I'm not at my best these days, what with being ill and also having a bit of travel fatigue. I realize that this is a rich person's "problem" - oh poor me, I'm so tired of traveling exotic countries! I think I'm just missing my family and close friends. On the one hand, I want companionship; but, on the other hand, I need time to reflect and learn to be satisfied with what I have.
When I am alone, I seem to have some lovely encounters. I was walking home from the beach on Thursday when an old Vietnamese man fell into step with me, pushing his bicycle. "Vous parlez francais?" he asked. And we walked along the boardwalk having a conversation in French. Mostly, he asked me questions: How old are you, what is your profession, are you traveling alone, do you have a partner or husband, how can you afford to travel, do you read books in French, etc. Once satisfied with my answers, he bid me farewell and was gone as quickly as he came. An angel, I reckon.
Another day, I ran into some Aussie girls who were on the same bus from Phnom Pehn to Saigon and they introduced me to Elliot, a 24-but-going-grey English bloke with a sharp wit and winning smile. Tired of the usual backpacker conversations (where are you from, where are you going, etc), Elliot suggested we try to come up with new topics. So I asked him when was the last time he cried, who was his first love. He asked me about my three favourite books and where I exactly I wanted to be on that exact day in ten years. We had great and unusual conversations indeed! It was nice to make a more meaningful connection with someone.
I myself have a lot of unanswered questions: where am I coming from and where I am going, but on a figurative level. The other night, unable to sleep at 3am (probably because I slept my fever away during the day), I was reading my travel health book to find out what the symptoms are for malaria (I don't think I have it, phew!) and came across this quote by Francis Bacon: "Travel in the younger sort is a part of education; in the older, a part of experience." I'm not sure which category I fit into. I'm not your traditional backpacker in that I'm over 25 and will gladly pay extra to stay in nice rooms, get a comfy lounge chair at the beach and see the sights around town. Most backpackers just want to go as cheap as possible so they can continue traveling indefinitely. For me, my law career (and all its adventures and challenges) begins very soon.
I'm halfway through my trip across South East Asia and I'm a bit confused about what I want out of this travel experience: companionship or alone time, adventure or relaxation, debauchery or meditation. These conflicting feelings are sometimes exhausting: my travel days are both long and challenging, but also beautifully blessed and passing so quickly. I want to come out of this experience having grown and learned lessons but I feel like I'm still swimming in my questions without being able to see the answers. On that same sleepless night, I put down my travel health book and picked up my novel (On the Road by Jack Kerouac) and immediately came across another quote that sums it up perfectly: "I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future."
From this crossroad in Nha Trang, I start the long journey north to Hanoi, stopping first in lovely Hoi An. My last hours in Nha Trang have been perfect: Elliot wandered down to the beach where I'd been lounging away the afternoon. Another great chat ensued and he gave me a lift back to the hotel on the back of his moto - and you know I LOVE a moto ride! After a hot shower and the perfect pho, I'm ready for the night bus to Hoi An. These simple things, like comforting soup broth, connections with a new friend and the beautiful landscape sailing by, these are the little things that make it all worthwhile.
More stories, questions, and hopefully answers from the road to follow...Lots of love to everybody back home.
The drive from Dalat to Nha Trang was most beautiful: winding down from the mountains and then along the white-sand coast. At a rest stop back down on the flat land, I stepped off the bus and remembered: humidity! Dalat was an unusual cool breeze in this hot and humid trek across South East Asia.
Nha Trang is a crossroads in that it connects Dalat to the main highway, mountain to plain, sky to sea. A little cutie called Hui was waiting for me at the bus station, holding a sign with my name on it. She whisked me to the Viet Hai guesthouse on her little white moto and she's been taking care of me ever since, asking if I feel better and checking in on me.
I met up with Tim and Helen, from PEI, again in Nha Trang and we had a great beach day together. They are so easy-going and positive - I could spend a lot of time in their company. But they had to hop a flight to Ho Chi Minh City and continue on to Macau for their flight home to our wintery Island. They spoiled me before they left, taking me out for lunch and giving me their Vietnamese phrasebook and leftover bottle of peanut butter (which is QUITE a luxury in these parts).
Nha Trang town is surprisingly quiet, especially in the tourist quarter. Things get busier down towards the market and being a pedestrian is a little treacherous. I started to tire a little of being gouged just because I'm a foreigner. I mean, how could 20 Gravols cost 12000 dong at the local pharmacy (less than $1 Canadian) but a bunch of bananas was 20000 dong at the market (closer to $2 Canadian). Strange, but I guess people have to make a living somehow.
I must admit that I'm not at my best these days, what with being ill and also having a bit of travel fatigue. I realize that this is a rich person's "problem" - oh poor me, I'm so tired of traveling exotic countries! I think I'm just missing my family and close friends. On the one hand, I want companionship; but, on the other hand, I need time to reflect and learn to be satisfied with what I have.
When I am alone, I seem to have some lovely encounters. I was walking home from the beach on Thursday when an old Vietnamese man fell into step with me, pushing his bicycle. "Vous parlez francais?" he asked. And we walked along the boardwalk having a conversation in French. Mostly, he asked me questions: How old are you, what is your profession, are you traveling alone, do you have a partner or husband, how can you afford to travel, do you read books in French, etc. Once satisfied with my answers, he bid me farewell and was gone as quickly as he came. An angel, I reckon.
Another day, I ran into some Aussie girls who were on the same bus from Phnom Pehn to Saigon and they introduced me to Elliot, a 24-but-going-grey English bloke with a sharp wit and winning smile. Tired of the usual backpacker conversations (where are you from, where are you going, etc), Elliot suggested we try to come up with new topics. So I asked him when was the last time he cried, who was his first love. He asked me about my three favourite books and where I exactly I wanted to be on that exact day in ten years. We had great and unusual conversations indeed! It was nice to make a more meaningful connection with someone.
I myself have a lot of unanswered questions: where am I coming from and where I am going, but on a figurative level. The other night, unable to sleep at 3am (probably because I slept my fever away during the day), I was reading my travel health book to find out what the symptoms are for malaria (I don't think I have it, phew!) and came across this quote by Francis Bacon: "Travel in the younger sort is a part of education; in the older, a part of experience." I'm not sure which category I fit into. I'm not your traditional backpacker in that I'm over 25 and will gladly pay extra to stay in nice rooms, get a comfy lounge chair at the beach and see the sights around town. Most backpackers just want to go as cheap as possible so they can continue traveling indefinitely. For me, my law career (and all its adventures and challenges) begins very soon.
I'm halfway through my trip across South East Asia and I'm a bit confused about what I want out of this travel experience: companionship or alone time, adventure or relaxation, debauchery or meditation. These conflicting feelings are sometimes exhausting: my travel days are both long and challenging, but also beautifully blessed and passing so quickly. I want to come out of this experience having grown and learned lessons but I feel like I'm still swimming in my questions without being able to see the answers. On that same sleepless night, I put down my travel health book and picked up my novel (On the Road by Jack Kerouac) and immediately came across another quote that sums it up perfectly: "I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future."
From this crossroad in Nha Trang, I start the long journey north to Hanoi, stopping first in lovely Hoi An. My last hours in Nha Trang have been perfect: Elliot wandered down to the beach where I'd been lounging away the afternoon. Another great chat ensued and he gave me a lift back to the hotel on the back of his moto - and you know I LOVE a moto ride! After a hot shower and the perfect pho, I'm ready for the night bus to Hoi An. These simple things, like comforting soup broth, connections with a new friend and the beautiful landscape sailing by, these are the little things that make it all worthwhile.
More stories, questions, and hopefully answers from the road to follow...Lots of love to everybody back home.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Dalat is for Lovers, Part 2 (or "Don't even try to steer")
The market in Dalat sells some delicious things. Located in the centre of town, it is a frenzy of motorbikes and colourful produce. The hills surrounding the town are dotted with greenhouses which produce lovely flowers and veggies that I didn't expect to see in Vietnam: red roses and daisies, beetroot, kohlrabi, and artichokes. Dalat is famous for its artichoke tea - a very tasty and cleansing brew. Strawberries were in season and beautifully displayed in straw baskets: the vendors would carefully constructed pyramids of berries with the stems facing in. I bought a kilo for 25000 dong (less than $2 Canadian).
Dalat is also famous for its wine. My guidebook said not to get too fussed about varietals: there's red and there's white. The white was a bit oaky but the Superior Red was lovely. And for 60000 dong a bottle ($4), it sure was a bargain!
The day after our Intro to Motorcycling, we undertook a bigger ride. The town of Nam Ban is 30 km from Dalat, along a winding mountain road with amazing views of lush valleys below. I led the way until the road got so twisty that Chris had to speed ahead (I don't like to take the turns too fast). His advice about motorcycling is an excellent metaphor for life: "Don't even try to steer. Just lean into the turns." Driving down from the mountain into town, we hit a wall of hot air, like driving into an oven. From the bridge over a small river, we could see shirtless men wading waist deep, fishing. Roadside, women were selling the catch from big stainless steel bowls filled with water. I reckon you couldn't ask for a fresher fish.
Once in Nam Ban, we filled up the gas tanks and I got directions to our destination. I'd looked up "How do you get to..." in my phrasebook and the woman answered in Vietnamese, with accompanying hand motions. I had no idea was she actually said, but my interpretation was "Go over the bridge and turn left." Sure enough, that left turn led us up to the Linh An pagoda and the Elephant waterfalls. Lovely music drifted from the pagoda and we were definitely the only white people around. A giant fat Buddha statue laughed down at us, mirroring the smiling Vietnamese parking lot attendants who laughed with us and directed us where to park the bikes. You can't just leave your bike unattended round here - it might get nicked, as Chris said. So for a few thousand dong, we paid some guys to watch them for us.
Feeling parched from all the wandering on foot and moto, we stopped next at a stand next to the pagoda to squat on little stools and slurp delicious sugar cane juice, with a hint of lime. Just then, it started to pour with rain and we took shelter with everyone else under an awning. A little boy stared at us intently but most everyone else paid no attention. After the downpour, we visited the Cuang Huong Silk Factory, where we witnessed the silk-making process and I, ever the shopper, dropped a wad of dong to buy lovely scarfs, wrap shirts and kimonos. "You spent a MILLION dong!?" Chris and Luke were shocked but patient during my browsing.
A lot of travellers have told me that they don't like Vietnam as much as Cambodia or Laos because the people aren't as friendly. But I've found the Vietnamese to be very warm and obliging. It helps if you smile a lot and make an effort with the language. When faced with a language barrier, repeating yourself more loudly is hardly the way to make the other person understand! I've noticed a trend among other travellers - they never seem satisfied and there is always something wrong that ruins their day or trip, whether it be rain or a delay or a cultural misunderstanding. Personally, if I'm not having a good time, I think I'm more to blame than the locals or the weather or the country. It is all a matter of having a positive attitude.
On our last day in Dalat, Chris rode off at dawn with a Vietnamese guide, fulfilling his New Year's resolution to do a big moto trip through Vietnam. Luke and I wandered the town, stopping often for food (first and second breakfast, first and second lunch, etc). We ducked into a cafe to escape the rain and sat amongst Vietnamese men who were lazing the day away with coffee, cigarettes and card games. "Conversations" ensued and I learned how to say lungs and tobacco in Vietnamese. Later, more food! I'd been telling Luke about banh mi, the Vietnamese version of the submarine sandwich: spicy mayo, roast pork, pickled carrot and turnip, fresh cucumber and lots of cilantro. We stumbled upon a local bakery that made the most sublime banh mi. Having just eaten our fourth meal of the day, we decided to just share one, eating it standing in the street outside the bakery. And then another. Okay, and another. It was so good! With our bellies full, we toasted the full moon with a final glass of Dalat wine.
Dalat is for lovers and I'd like to bring my loved ones here someday: Darla and John, JA, Baba and Debbie, Laura and James, Matthieu and KK, and most especially, Rachel who loves to ride motorcycles (but preferably not into a wall).
Next stop, beach time in Nha Trang. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Dalat is also famous for its wine. My guidebook said not to get too fussed about varietals: there's red and there's white. The white was a bit oaky but the Superior Red was lovely. And for 60000 dong a bottle ($4), it sure was a bargain!
The day after our Intro to Motorcycling, we undertook a bigger ride. The town of Nam Ban is 30 km from Dalat, along a winding mountain road with amazing views of lush valleys below. I led the way until the road got so twisty that Chris had to speed ahead (I don't like to take the turns too fast). His advice about motorcycling is an excellent metaphor for life: "Don't even try to steer. Just lean into the turns." Driving down from the mountain into town, we hit a wall of hot air, like driving into an oven. From the bridge over a small river, we could see shirtless men wading waist deep, fishing. Roadside, women were selling the catch from big stainless steel bowls filled with water. I reckon you couldn't ask for a fresher fish.
Once in Nam Ban, we filled up the gas tanks and I got directions to our destination. I'd looked up "How do you get to..." in my phrasebook and the woman answered in Vietnamese, with accompanying hand motions. I had no idea was she actually said, but my interpretation was "Go over the bridge and turn left." Sure enough, that left turn led us up to the Linh An pagoda and the Elephant waterfalls. Lovely music drifted from the pagoda and we were definitely the only white people around. A giant fat Buddha statue laughed down at us, mirroring the smiling Vietnamese parking lot attendants who laughed with us and directed us where to park the bikes. You can't just leave your bike unattended round here - it might get nicked, as Chris said. So for a few thousand dong, we paid some guys to watch them for us.
Feeling parched from all the wandering on foot and moto, we stopped next at a stand next to the pagoda to squat on little stools and slurp delicious sugar cane juice, with a hint of lime. Just then, it started to pour with rain and we took shelter with everyone else under an awning. A little boy stared at us intently but most everyone else paid no attention. After the downpour, we visited the Cuang Huong Silk Factory, where we witnessed the silk-making process and I, ever the shopper, dropped a wad of dong to buy lovely scarfs, wrap shirts and kimonos. "You spent a MILLION dong!?" Chris and Luke were shocked but patient during my browsing.
A lot of travellers have told me that they don't like Vietnam as much as Cambodia or Laos because the people aren't as friendly. But I've found the Vietnamese to be very warm and obliging. It helps if you smile a lot and make an effort with the language. When faced with a language barrier, repeating yourself more loudly is hardly the way to make the other person understand! I've noticed a trend among other travellers - they never seem satisfied and there is always something wrong that ruins their day or trip, whether it be rain or a delay or a cultural misunderstanding. Personally, if I'm not having a good time, I think I'm more to blame than the locals or the weather or the country. It is all a matter of having a positive attitude.
On our last day in Dalat, Chris rode off at dawn with a Vietnamese guide, fulfilling his New Year's resolution to do a big moto trip through Vietnam. Luke and I wandered the town, stopping often for food (first and second breakfast, first and second lunch, etc). We ducked into a cafe to escape the rain and sat amongst Vietnamese men who were lazing the day away with coffee, cigarettes and card games. "Conversations" ensued and I learned how to say lungs and tobacco in Vietnamese. Later, more food! I'd been telling Luke about banh mi, the Vietnamese version of the submarine sandwich: spicy mayo, roast pork, pickled carrot and turnip, fresh cucumber and lots of cilantro. We stumbled upon a local bakery that made the most sublime banh mi. Having just eaten our fourth meal of the day, we decided to just share one, eating it standing in the street outside the bakery. And then another. Okay, and another. It was so good! With our bellies full, we toasted the full moon with a final glass of Dalat wine.
Dalat is for lovers and I'd like to bring my loved ones here someday: Darla and John, JA, Baba and Debbie, Laura and James, Matthieu and KK, and most especially, Rachel who loves to ride motorcycles (but preferably not into a wall).
Next stop, beach time in Nha Trang. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Dalat is for Lovers, Part 1 (or "Honk if you love Buddha")
I'm here in Dalat, up in the Central Highlands of Vietnam. The town is like the Vietnamese version of Quebec City: full of winding, hilly streets and quaint scenes. This is a popular honeymoon spot for Vietnamese: "Very romantic!" said my guesthouse owner, with a touch of difficulty pronouncing the letter "r".
The ride from HCMC was a bit painful. The bus driver had his hand glued to the horn: honking is the South-East Asian way of saying, "Coming through!!!" The beep of the horn was soul-jarring and I jumped out of my seat at every honk. Not a very relaxing ride. Pair that with the winding highway and the fact that the driver only stopped once in six hours to let us pee and eat. Yeah, I might look into the train for future long-distance journeys.
But the ride was worth it because this little town and surrounding countryside are just beautiful. It is good to be in a place off the tourist track - I've been only eating local food (alternating between rice and noodles at each meal) and I'm picking up a bit of the language. Learning Vietnamese is much easier than learning Cambodian because they use the same alphabet here. But all the accents and inflections are confusing. When I say thank you (com on, pronounced gaam ern), people often look at me blankly. But they don't look offended so I'm probably not accidentally saying anything bad, like "Your mother is a cow." I've had a few "conversations" with locals in which neither of us knew what the other one was saying - but we were nonetheless able to make a connection.
The weather is cooler up here, about 20 degree Celsius in the day and 14 degrees at night. It is the first time I've put on a sweater, jacket and long pants since November. Yeah, yeah, I know you hate me. The Vietnamese aren't much for the cold - little kids are bundled up like it is February in Canada, with puffy jackets and balaclavas. So cute!
I met up with Chris and Luke, whom I met in Saigon, and we're all staying at a family-run guesthouse on Bui Thi Xuan Street. Our host is Ty, a very beautiful and very pregnant little woman, who makes us artichoke tea and runs around constantly despite our protests that she should take it easy. This morning, we came down to find the lobby packed with Vietnamese men in suits, all sitting around round tables eating and throwing back the vodka. We almost got pulled into the fray - I would have loved to stay and partake but we had rented motorbikes and were off to see the countryside. It would hardly have been appropriate for me to shoot vodka before my first motorbike ride.
My father recently emailed to say that he is happy that I directly disobeyed his order not to go travelling in South-East Asia by myself. So, uh, maybe he won't mind that I rode a motorbike? Gosh, at this rate, I'll be tattoed and pierced, riding my Harley with a cigarette dangling from my mouth alone through rural India...all things that my father would NOT approve of. I was nervous about the bike, especially because the traffic here is a bit crazy. But I got used to it pretty quickly and I'm getting hooked. My riding is like my skiing: I have no need for speed. It was amazing to toot along up and down winding roads, with trees on one side and valley on the other.
I'm discovering a lot of things about myself on this trip. The most recent and surprising realization is that I have a very good sense of direction. Back in HCMC, I'd be wandering with the boys and someone would say, "Uh, does anyone know where we are?" Everyone would shake their heads and I'd say, "Yeah, just turn left and then take the next right, walk two blocks and the next left is the street of our hotel." Huh? They were all shocked, didn't know how I did it. But really, how could they not know where they were? I mean, aren't boys supposed have a naturally good sense of direction?! My ability to follow maps means I'm the designated navigator for wandering on foot and on motorbike. Honestly, it is quite flattering when they let me lead, not to mention an excellent position for a control-freak like me. Other surprising things: I drink beer very fast (as compared to boys) and I'm surprisingly relaxed and confident in all these new situations.
I've been on the road for a month and living abroad for seven...just three months left till I go home to Canada. I'm starting to wonder who I'll be when I return. Emotionally, I left so much behind when I left Canada: stress about my career, daily chores and rushed commutes, heartache about love, etc. My life on the road has been pure pleasure: there is nothing pressing to do, just eat, sleep, write, wonder, wander. I feel so far away from the old version of myself, and so much closer to the person I am (or the person I want to be). I hope I can bring the peace in my heart back home with me and remember to enjoy journeys, to smile at people when I walk down the street, to savour my food and to take time to relax.
That's lots more to say about Dalat, so stay tuned for Part 2 of Dalat is for Lovers. Lots of love to everyone back home.
The ride from HCMC was a bit painful. The bus driver had his hand glued to the horn: honking is the South-East Asian way of saying, "Coming through!!!" The beep of the horn was soul-jarring and I jumped out of my seat at every honk. Not a very relaxing ride. Pair that with the winding highway and the fact that the driver only stopped once in six hours to let us pee and eat. Yeah, I might look into the train for future long-distance journeys.
But the ride was worth it because this little town and surrounding countryside are just beautiful. It is good to be in a place off the tourist track - I've been only eating local food (alternating between rice and noodles at each meal) and I'm picking up a bit of the language. Learning Vietnamese is much easier than learning Cambodian because they use the same alphabet here. But all the accents and inflections are confusing. When I say thank you (com on, pronounced gaam ern), people often look at me blankly. But they don't look offended so I'm probably not accidentally saying anything bad, like "Your mother is a cow." I've had a few "conversations" with locals in which neither of us knew what the other one was saying - but we were nonetheless able to make a connection.
The weather is cooler up here, about 20 degree Celsius in the day and 14 degrees at night. It is the first time I've put on a sweater, jacket and long pants since November. Yeah, yeah, I know you hate me. The Vietnamese aren't much for the cold - little kids are bundled up like it is February in Canada, with puffy jackets and balaclavas. So cute!
I met up with Chris and Luke, whom I met in Saigon, and we're all staying at a family-run guesthouse on Bui Thi Xuan Street. Our host is Ty, a very beautiful and very pregnant little woman, who makes us artichoke tea and runs around constantly despite our protests that she should take it easy. This morning, we came down to find the lobby packed with Vietnamese men in suits, all sitting around round tables eating and throwing back the vodka. We almost got pulled into the fray - I would have loved to stay and partake but we had rented motorbikes and were off to see the countryside. It would hardly have been appropriate for me to shoot vodka before my first motorbike ride.
My father recently emailed to say that he is happy that I directly disobeyed his order not to go travelling in South-East Asia by myself. So, uh, maybe he won't mind that I rode a motorbike? Gosh, at this rate, I'll be tattoed and pierced, riding my Harley with a cigarette dangling from my mouth alone through rural India...all things that my father would NOT approve of. I was nervous about the bike, especially because the traffic here is a bit crazy. But I got used to it pretty quickly and I'm getting hooked. My riding is like my skiing: I have no need for speed. It was amazing to toot along up and down winding roads, with trees on one side and valley on the other.
I'm discovering a lot of things about myself on this trip. The most recent and surprising realization is that I have a very good sense of direction. Back in HCMC, I'd be wandering with the boys and someone would say, "Uh, does anyone know where we are?" Everyone would shake their heads and I'd say, "Yeah, just turn left and then take the next right, walk two blocks and the next left is the street of our hotel." Huh? They were all shocked, didn't know how I did it. But really, how could they not know where they were? I mean, aren't boys supposed have a naturally good sense of direction?! My ability to follow maps means I'm the designated navigator for wandering on foot and on motorbike. Honestly, it is quite flattering when they let me lead, not to mention an excellent position for a control-freak like me. Other surprising things: I drink beer very fast (as compared to boys) and I'm surprisingly relaxed and confident in all these new situations.
I've been on the road for a month and living abroad for seven...just three months left till I go home to Canada. I'm starting to wonder who I'll be when I return. Emotionally, I left so much behind when I left Canada: stress about my career, daily chores and rushed commutes, heartache about love, etc. My life on the road has been pure pleasure: there is nothing pressing to do, just eat, sleep, write, wonder, wander. I feel so far away from the old version of myself, and so much closer to the person I am (or the person I want to be). I hope I can bring the peace in my heart back home with me and remember to enjoy journeys, to smile at people when I walk down the street, to savour my food and to take time to relax.
That's lots more to say about Dalat, so stay tuned for Part 2 of Dalat is for Lovers. Lots of love to everyone back home.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Good morning, Vietnam!
The heat is on in Saigon! I only meant to spend two days in Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon) but this place is so great, I stayed another day. Its Friday night now in HCMC and life is fast and tasty.
I noticed a big difference immediately after crossing the border from Cambodia into Vietnam. Whereas Cambodia's population is about 14 million, Vietnam has closer to 90 million people. Not much countryside in sight, but lots of motorcycles! The motos outnumber the cars about 10 to 1 and, everywhere you go, the traffic constant, fluid and exciting.
Saigon feels like a city of friends because I met a bunch of guys on the bus from Phnom Penh and we all ended up staying at the same guesthouse. There's Luke from Winnipeg (a Canadian through-and-through, à la Bob and Doug MacKenzie), Lorenzo from Heathrow (he has an English accent but is a Sicilian in looks and at heart) and Michael from Liverpool (accent so thick that when he told me his name, I thought he said Marco). I'm in Room 500 at Hotel 97 on Bui Dien Road in the backpacker district of Pham Ngu Lao. My room is on the top floor and the numbering of the floors starts two floors above the street level...so I'm really on the seventh floor. There is no lift so it makes for a long climb to the top of this classic tall-and-skinny HCMC hotel.
Once ensconced in the guesthouse, it didn't take long until I was streetside sipping a Saigon beer (bia in Vietnamese) with the boys. My first meal in Vietnam was, of course, pho, which is a lovely soup of fennel-infused beef broth, noodles, tender beef and sweet onion. It comes with a plate of fresh lime, cilantro, basil, chilies and bean sprouts, all of which you add to your taste. Pho is a staple here and I have to have my daily fix, whether it be for breakfast, lunch or dinner. It goes very well with an iced coffee with milk (that's sweetened condensed milk) or, of course, a Saigon bia.
My room opens onto a communal balcony and I've spent a lot of time up there with the guys, enjoying the sunset or talking late into the night. A stall down the street sells big bottles of Saigon for 10000 dong, which is about 75 cents, so we've all been saving money, backpacker style, by drinking "at home." Chris from Manchester has joined the group so its two Canucks and more Englishmen than you can keep track of.
My days in Saigon have consisted mostly of wandering, taking in the sights and sampling all the amazing food. This is a very cosmopolitan city and, after Cambodia, I've been marvelling at all the modern wonders. For example, when people throw their garbage into the gutters on the street, an obliging gentleman in orange coveralls, a hard hat and a face mask comes along with a wooden broom to sweep it up and take it away in his dumpster on wheels. This is a pretty clean city, despite its population of 15 million. I feel like such a lame Westerner saying this, but I really appreciate the cleanliness!
I took a short moto ride to the beautiful main post office and sent 6 kilograms of stuff home to Canada: the spoils of my Cambodian shopping extravaganzas. Suddenly, I have license to shop again - so much room in my pack! You wouldn't want to be a recovering shopaholic in Vietnam. Tailors abound, making beautiful suits and dresses for a fraction of what you'd pay at home. The Vietnamese women look so beautiful in their ai doi, traditionally dresses in a long, high-necked top and wide-leg pants...I just might have to get one. I had to have my wits about me at the Benh Thanh market because the stall-keepers literally grabbed me and dragged me over to see their wares. It kind of makes you feel like a rock star, walking through the place and getting so much attention.
After wandering the town today, Luke, Chris and I all took cyclos home: that's like a bicycle taxi where you recline in the front seat while the driver pedals away behind. In the busy traffic circles, it is every moto for him/herself. I'm glad that I don't have to drive here!
Tomorrow I will leave Saigon and head to Dalat in the Central Highlands for a little trekking in the fresh mountain air. It just so happens that Luke and Chris are headed the same way, so my parents can rest assured that I won't be going to the middle of nowhere alone. More stories to come...lots of love to everyone back home.
I noticed a big difference immediately after crossing the border from Cambodia into Vietnam. Whereas Cambodia's population is about 14 million, Vietnam has closer to 90 million people. Not much countryside in sight, but lots of motorcycles! The motos outnumber the cars about 10 to 1 and, everywhere you go, the traffic constant, fluid and exciting.
Saigon feels like a city of friends because I met a bunch of guys on the bus from Phnom Penh and we all ended up staying at the same guesthouse. There's Luke from Winnipeg (a Canadian through-and-through, à la Bob and Doug MacKenzie), Lorenzo from Heathrow (he has an English accent but is a Sicilian in looks and at heart) and Michael from Liverpool (accent so thick that when he told me his name, I thought he said Marco). I'm in Room 500 at Hotel 97 on Bui Dien Road in the backpacker district of Pham Ngu Lao. My room is on the top floor and the numbering of the floors starts two floors above the street level...so I'm really on the seventh floor. There is no lift so it makes for a long climb to the top of this classic tall-and-skinny HCMC hotel.
Once ensconced in the guesthouse, it didn't take long until I was streetside sipping a Saigon beer (bia in Vietnamese) with the boys. My first meal in Vietnam was, of course, pho, which is a lovely soup of fennel-infused beef broth, noodles, tender beef and sweet onion. It comes with a plate of fresh lime, cilantro, basil, chilies and bean sprouts, all of which you add to your taste. Pho is a staple here and I have to have my daily fix, whether it be for breakfast, lunch or dinner. It goes very well with an iced coffee with milk (that's sweetened condensed milk) or, of course, a Saigon bia.
My room opens onto a communal balcony and I've spent a lot of time up there with the guys, enjoying the sunset or talking late into the night. A stall down the street sells big bottles of Saigon for 10000 dong, which is about 75 cents, so we've all been saving money, backpacker style, by drinking "at home." Chris from Manchester has joined the group so its two Canucks and more Englishmen than you can keep track of.
My days in Saigon have consisted mostly of wandering, taking in the sights and sampling all the amazing food. This is a very cosmopolitan city and, after Cambodia, I've been marvelling at all the modern wonders. For example, when people throw their garbage into the gutters on the street, an obliging gentleman in orange coveralls, a hard hat and a face mask comes along with a wooden broom to sweep it up and take it away in his dumpster on wheels. This is a pretty clean city, despite its population of 15 million. I feel like such a lame Westerner saying this, but I really appreciate the cleanliness!
I took a short moto ride to the beautiful main post office and sent 6 kilograms of stuff home to Canada: the spoils of my Cambodian shopping extravaganzas. Suddenly, I have license to shop again - so much room in my pack! You wouldn't want to be a recovering shopaholic in Vietnam. Tailors abound, making beautiful suits and dresses for a fraction of what you'd pay at home. The Vietnamese women look so beautiful in their ai doi, traditionally dresses in a long, high-necked top and wide-leg pants...I just might have to get one. I had to have my wits about me at the Benh Thanh market because the stall-keepers literally grabbed me and dragged me over to see their wares. It kind of makes you feel like a rock star, walking through the place and getting so much attention.
After wandering the town today, Luke, Chris and I all took cyclos home: that's like a bicycle taxi where you recline in the front seat while the driver pedals away behind. In the busy traffic circles, it is every moto for him/herself. I'm glad that I don't have to drive here!
Tomorrow I will leave Saigon and head to Dalat in the Central Highlands for a little trekking in the fresh mountain air. It just so happens that Luke and Chris are headed the same way, so my parents can rest assured that I won't be going to the middle of nowhere alone. More stories to come...lots of love to everyone back home.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
A pause for thanks
I just wanted to thank you for reading my blog. I've been getting emails from friends and family saying that they read it all the time and it means a lot to me to know that the people I love get to share in my travelling experience! Hope you continue enjoying the stories. Lots of love to you all.
Last days in Cambodia
It was an easy bus ride from Sihanoukville to Phnom Penh. We stopped at a roadside stand and I devoured some excellent fried rice with pickle on the side. The Westerners on the trip were not very friendly, but the locals sure were. Two Vietnamese ladies insisted that I share their snacks: they offered some bean-like fruit with sweet red interior. I didn't even know what they were handing to me but I took a deep breath and gave it a try - very good! The younger of the two gave me two thumbs up and a big smile when she found out that I'm travelling alone. Sweet.
Phnom Penh is a wild ride. I got a moto ride to the backpackers area at Boeung Kak, on the lakeside. Soon I was ensconced at Grand View Guesthouse, which is supposed to be up-market for that area. A relatively clean room with a fan, cold shower and no bed bugs. Not bad for $5 a night. The moto drivers around the guesthouse were pretty determined to take me on a tour that very day and it was a bit exhausting fending off all the offers. Instead of going on a big tour, I wandered a bit, sent some postcards, and then had a meal and a foot massage.
I decided not to check out the Royal Palace on Sunday afternoon because it was so busy. Walking out, I miraculously ran into the same moto driver who had taken me from the bus to the guesthouse. "Ana?" he called after me. "I know you!" He was very friendly, with kind eyes, and not nearly as intense as other drivers I'd encountered. We made a deal that he would take me to the sights the next day. For the rest of Sunday, I went to see a documentary about the Cambodian genocide, and bed early. All the Aussies at the guesthouse were glued to the tennis on tv: Federer and Nadal at the Australian open.
On Monday, I practically had the whole Royal Palace to myself in the early morning. It is a very ornate estate of buildings, quite the contrast from the dirty streets of Phnom Penh. Then, it was a long moto ride out to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. This is were thousands of Cambodians were brought for execution and mass burial during the Khmer Rouge's regime. It was a haunting place, hard to imagine so much suffering in a field where the flowers were blooming and birds chirping. Back in town, I dined in a stall street side next to the Russian Market and had a little shopping cardio: my pack is heavier still with lovely tapestries, tablecloths and sarongs. I finished my moto tour at Tung Sleung, an interrogation centre of the Khmer Rouge now converted to Genocide Museum.
It felt a bit morbid to be a genocide tourist but my curiousity was strong. Also, the Khmers I've talked to want the world to know what happened in their country. The dark side of humanity is very appalling in the places of torture I visited. The politics behind Khmer Rouge are complicated, but it seems like the Cambodian people were a pawn in the great struggle between China's communism power and America's capitalism. It angers me that a country that prides itself on liberty could influence such a tragedy.
I wrote before that Cambodia is still suffered from the genocide. Many people live in shacks made of corrugated steel, with a plastic tarp for a roof. There is no concept of garbage disposal and the streets are littered with rotting vegetables and plastic bags. Electricity is very expensive and most people live without it. In the morning, you wake to the smell of cooking fires, like camping - no stoves here. The total lack of infrastructure may come from a "live-for-the-moment" attitude, which isn't surprising considering that many Cambodians spent a lot of time just surviving the days, not knowing if they would be alive tomorrow.
My moto driver dropped me off at the end of the day back in Boeung Kak. I was sad to say goodbye because he was such a nice man: an excellent driver and good guide. There's nothing like the feeling of sitting on the back of the moto and whizzing around the busy streets. With the wind on my face, I witnessed so many beautiful and shocking little scenes in this place where life is teeming out in the open. I dubbed my moto driver Spiderman because of the design on his fingerless riding gloves. He asked $15 dollars for his services for the day and I paid without haggling over the amount. He had been at my disposal for 9 hours and took me all over the place so I figured it was a fair price.
My last night in Cambodia, I had a drink lakeside and watched the big red sun go down over the water. I had barely spoken to anyone all day, except for small conversations with Spiderman. An Italian guy sat down next to me as I tucked into a cheap thali at an Indian resto and we had a great 30-minute conversation, both solo travellers thankful for a little human interaction. After dinner, I packed my bag and had another early night. Next stop: Vietnam!
Lots of love to everyone back home.
Phnom Penh is a wild ride. I got a moto ride to the backpackers area at Boeung Kak, on the lakeside. Soon I was ensconced at Grand View Guesthouse, which is supposed to be up-market for that area. A relatively clean room with a fan, cold shower and no bed bugs. Not bad for $5 a night. The moto drivers around the guesthouse were pretty determined to take me on a tour that very day and it was a bit exhausting fending off all the offers. Instead of going on a big tour, I wandered a bit, sent some postcards, and then had a meal and a foot massage.
I decided not to check out the Royal Palace on Sunday afternoon because it was so busy. Walking out, I miraculously ran into the same moto driver who had taken me from the bus to the guesthouse. "Ana?" he called after me. "I know you!" He was very friendly, with kind eyes, and not nearly as intense as other drivers I'd encountered. We made a deal that he would take me to the sights the next day. For the rest of Sunday, I went to see a documentary about the Cambodian genocide, and bed early. All the Aussies at the guesthouse were glued to the tennis on tv: Federer and Nadal at the Australian open.
On Monday, I practically had the whole Royal Palace to myself in the early morning. It is a very ornate estate of buildings, quite the contrast from the dirty streets of Phnom Penh. Then, it was a long moto ride out to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. This is were thousands of Cambodians were brought for execution and mass burial during the Khmer Rouge's regime. It was a haunting place, hard to imagine so much suffering in a field where the flowers were blooming and birds chirping. Back in town, I dined in a stall street side next to the Russian Market and had a little shopping cardio: my pack is heavier still with lovely tapestries, tablecloths and sarongs. I finished my moto tour at Tung Sleung, an interrogation centre of the Khmer Rouge now converted to Genocide Museum.
It felt a bit morbid to be a genocide tourist but my curiousity was strong. Also, the Khmers I've talked to want the world to know what happened in their country. The dark side of humanity is very appalling in the places of torture I visited. The politics behind Khmer Rouge are complicated, but it seems like the Cambodian people were a pawn in the great struggle between China's communism power and America's capitalism. It angers me that a country that prides itself on liberty could influence such a tragedy.
I wrote before that Cambodia is still suffered from the genocide. Many people live in shacks made of corrugated steel, with a plastic tarp for a roof. There is no concept of garbage disposal and the streets are littered with rotting vegetables and plastic bags. Electricity is very expensive and most people live without it. In the morning, you wake to the smell of cooking fires, like camping - no stoves here. The total lack of infrastructure may come from a "live-for-the-moment" attitude, which isn't surprising considering that many Cambodians spent a lot of time just surviving the days, not knowing if they would be alive tomorrow.
My moto driver dropped me off at the end of the day back in Boeung Kak. I was sad to say goodbye because he was such a nice man: an excellent driver and good guide. There's nothing like the feeling of sitting on the back of the moto and whizzing around the busy streets. With the wind on my face, I witnessed so many beautiful and shocking little scenes in this place where life is teeming out in the open. I dubbed my moto driver Spiderman because of the design on his fingerless riding gloves. He asked $15 dollars for his services for the day and I paid without haggling over the amount. He had been at my disposal for 9 hours and took me all over the place so I figured it was a fair price.
My last night in Cambodia, I had a drink lakeside and watched the big red sun go down over the water. I had barely spoken to anyone all day, except for small conversations with Spiderman. An Italian guy sat down next to me as I tucked into a cheap thali at an Indian resto and we had a great 30-minute conversation, both solo travellers thankful for a little human interaction. After dinner, I packed my bag and had another early night. Next stop: Vietnam!
Lots of love to everyone back home.
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