I haven't forgotten about my posts about the Mancation. Those posts will come. For now, here's a video of me and a cat outside of Khan al-Khalili in Cairo. I named the cat Habibi, for reasons that may come in a future blog post.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Still Amazing
It took a few weeks, but I'm finally caught up with The Amazing Race.
Hard to believe that Phil and the gang have been around for 15 seasons. Make that 14. Nobody counts the Family Edition.
The Globetrotters have the potential to be one of my favorite teams in the history of the series. They bring a positive attitude every leg, they're highly competitive and they're hilarious. Their dancing at the detour last Sunday is the highlight of the season.
Out of the remaining teams, no team is unlikeable. Unless you can't stand Ericka's screeching. I'm indifferent.
If Flight Time and Big Easy don't take this race, I'll be sorely disappointed.
Anyone else watching? Who are you pulling for?
Hard to believe that Phil and the gang have been around for 15 seasons. Make that 14. Nobody counts the Family Edition.
The Globetrotters have the potential to be one of my favorite teams in the history of the series. They bring a positive attitude every leg, they're highly competitive and they're hilarious. Their dancing at the detour last Sunday is the highlight of the season.
Out of the remaining teams, no team is unlikeable. Unless you can't stand Ericka's screeching. I'm indifferent.
If Flight Time and Big Easy don't take this race, I'll be sorely disappointed.
Anyone else watching? Who are you pulling for?
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Aegina Through the Back Door
Aegina is pronounced AY-gah-nah. Not ah-JYE-nah, like I had been saying it. The correct way of saying isn't nearly as funny.
Aegina is a forty minute boat ride from Piraeus Harbor. It takes the same amount of time as a ride from Long Beach to Catalina. My friend Nate recommended the island, suggesting I rent a scooter and wander the roads. When he told me he crashed twice, I thanked him for his suggestion, but yeah, I'm gonna walk this.
We walked to a nearby beach and did nothing. M and J took a dip in the sea. I crashed on a lounge chair for two hours straight. The weather wasn't beach-friendly. Clouds built in the distance. The sun came out, hid for a few minutes, then appeared again. The humidity that plagued us all day in Athens failed to show up.
With two hours to kill before boarding the ferry back to Athens, M, J and I wandered. Our Guru Rick Steves emphasizes Back Door Travel; Ditching the guide book, veer off the beaten path and explore. There isn't much to see in Aegina at dusk on a Sunday evening. Shops have closed. Families are preparing dinner. The streets are deserted, except for the occasional moped passing through.
We were heading back to the dock when we passed a church. It was like any Greek Orthodox church we've come across. Two brick-red domes on each side of the roof, flanking a bigger dome in the middle. There was a red carpet leading to the church's entrance. A small crowd had gathered. I stopped and nodded at M and J. "I think something's happening here." I thought.
And then they came. A rush of people, looking their best, coming from the other side of the street. Men in designer shirts. Young women in fancy dresses. Old men and women ambling. Children dragged by their parents. All headed toward the entrance.
The groom arrived in a black sedan. He was dressed in gray tuxedo. He entered the church to applause. An old man, also in a gray suit, stood by the outer gate. M approached him "Is this a wedding?" "Yes, yes, wedding..." The old man replied. He bolted for the church.
Thirty minutes till the ferry was to leave, and the bride had yet to show. We didn't want to leave. "Can we just wait a few more minutes?" M pleaded. The sun had long since disappeared. It was getting late.
The three of us headed for the dock. We never saw the bride. As the boat took us to Pireaus, questions ran through my mind. How did her wedding dress look? Was she young? Did she look like the woman in My Big Fat Greek Wedding?
Was our back door tour of Aegina a success? Hard to say. It was a quiet back door, with a little glimpse of everyday life on a Greek isle. I count that as success. I was satisfied.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Zeus or Poseidon?
The National Archaeological Museum of Athens was a ten-minute walk from our hotel. It's a bit away from the main landmarks, so we paid a visit first thing next morning. It's a good time of the day to go, before it gets super crowded.
I'm not a huge museum fan, but this one is worth it. It houses everything from shards of pottery (not so interesting) to broken statues of the gods (very interesting). However, of all the exhibits, there was one that surpasses them all...
This is The Artemision Bronze. It was located off Cape Artemision in 1928 (Thanks, Rick.) The statue could be of Zeus or Poseidon. The weapon that he's supposed to be carrying was never recovered. We have no way of knowing if he was packing a thunderbolt, or a trident.
The statue is a marvel. It stands 6'10" (Thanks again, Rick) and showcases the Greeks obsession with the human body.
No matter how you look at it, you just can't look away. I spent a good half hour in this hall, mesmerized. Just look at those lines! The balance! I'm still in awe.
And it wasn't just me...M was hypnotic. However, there was no time to lose. We had to make it to Piraeus Harbor to make our boat for Aegina. We bid the statue and the museum farewell, and made our way to our next adventure.
If I could spend more time at the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, I would. If only to gaze upon The Artemision Bronze...
Is it Zeus? Or Poseidon?? I'll never know.
Gia Sas!
I wasn't present when this happened, but this is how M tells it:
As we walked down the Plaka, M and J stop at a store to look at t-shirts. To make nice, M greets the shopkeeper and says, "Gia sas" (pronounced "YAH-sahs"), which is "Hello" in Greek. The shopkeeper looks at M, laughs and bellows, "GIA SAS!" The neighboring shopkeepers share a laugh, and M walks away slightly embarrassed.
This was our introduction to Athens.
They tell you (and by "they" I mean HE) that you can see all that you need to see in Athens in a couple days. And they're right. While You COULD see everything in a day if you breezed through, two days is about right.
If you're stuck on finding a walking tour to go by, I suggest the Rick Steves' Athens City Walk. You can find it in his guidebook to Athens. You'll walk by landmarks that have been around for over a thousand years. Athenians go about their lives with these ruins in the background. Pass by the Temple of Zeus on the way to work? Sure, every day! Grab a latte from Starbucks with the Parthenon hovering over you? Yeah, what's the big deal?
In addition to the City Walk, you'll find tours of the Roman Agora and The "Main Event", The Acropolis. From these tours, The list of things to see in this city is long, so I'll just mention a few highlights from our first day in Athens:
Anafiotika. Away from the Plaka, which is the tourist-heavy section in the city, there's a set of stairs that take you toward the base of the Acropolis. The bustle of the souvenir shops dies down as you walk through a set of cottages, each populated by old bare-chested Greek men, who greet you with a hearty "GIA SAS!" This may sound kinda creepy, but trust me, you have to be there to fully appreciate it.
Mars Hill. Somewhere between the Roman Agora and The Acropolis lies Mars Hill. Atop this hill, the Apostle Paul got it on with the locals, engaging in a battle of ideas over God and idols. You'll find better views in higher locales, but to think that by standing on this hill, you could see what Paul saw.
The Acropolis. This is what it's all about, isn't it? While the Parthenon is the main attraction, the Acropolis has much more to offer. For example, the Erechtheum. That's the building in the foreground in the above photo.
You'll need at least two hours to wander. My suggestion: Go in the late afternoon. If you remain there until closing, Parthenon will look something like this:
Makes you wanna yell, "GIA SAS!"
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Back from Mancation
Three cities in three countries, in the span of a week and a half. No arrests, no trips to the emergency room, no rogue taxi drivers swindling us of all our possessions.
While the trip produced minimal hassles, this was an exhausting trip. There's much to process and put to paper (or in this case, screen). Blog posts will soon follow. I just need to catch up on some sleep.
Cheers.
Monday, September 7, 2009
In Cairo
I'm writing this from an empty computer room in my hotel. I can't breathe through my nose.
I COULD breathe, but I would inhale the cigarette smoke, left over from the attendant who was here before, lighting up a storm.
I'm tense. From negotiating the cab ride to the hotel, to the fact that our hotel doesn't recognize the tour company that booked our reservation and we could very well have to pay, to not being able to work the phones correctly (M has magically figured this out.), to the fact that it's just plain scary outside. Cars honk every three seconds. Cairenes argued heatedly in the middle of the street. The air is smoggy. And I still can't breathe through my nose. Tomorrow we see the Pyramids. We plan to have dinner on the Nile River. I don't want to leave the hotel. But I need to eat.
I have never been so equally thrilled and terrified to be in one place.
I COULD breathe, but I would inhale the cigarette smoke, left over from the attendant who was here before, lighting up a storm.
I'm tense. From negotiating the cab ride to the hotel, to the fact that our hotel doesn't recognize the tour company that booked our reservation and we could very well have to pay, to not being able to work the phones correctly (M has magically figured this out.), to the fact that it's just plain scary outside. Cars honk every three seconds. Cairenes argued heatedly in the middle of the street. The air is smoggy. And I still can't breathe through my nose. Tomorrow we see the Pyramids. We plan to have dinner on the Nile River. I don't want to leave the hotel. But I need to eat.
I have never been so equally thrilled and terrified to be in one place.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Mancation...Plus One - Prologue: Like a Snowball
It's like a snowball.
You want to travel. You tell your friend; the one that's always online, has the same 9-to-5 type of job, and like you, is itching to get outta here. You throw out destinations. You want to go to Latin America because it's cheap. He wants to go to Europe. You panic. Europe is way too expensive for you. You start to think that 2010 would be a better time.
Your friend says, "Screw that!" and drags you to Barnes and Noble to browse guidebooks. You insist on Costa Rica. "It's not that bad, really!" He's not buying it. You browse and browse some more, until you and friend see the Lonely Planet guide to Greece. You're intrigued.
You look online, at the site where you booked your last Europe Trip. You see packages for Athens and the Greek Isles so cheap that it's too good to be true. Out of the corner of your eye, you see packages for Greece and Turkey. You're more intrigued.
You tell your friend. He gets excited. You go back online and you see a package on the site that you didn't see earlier: Athens to Cairo to Istanbul. WHAT? CAIRO?? The Pyramids? The Sphinx?? Are you KIDDING me?
Your pulse quickens. You get jumpy. You and your friend go over the possible dates, flight info, hotels. You book your trip. You read the Rick Steves guidebooks to Athens and Istanbul all the way through. You read them again. And again. You pick up the Lonely Planet guide to Egypt, just for completeness. You read the tiny section on Cairo, and feel shortchanged.
You spend the night before your trip packing. You dust off your nemesis. You try to remember all the tricks you learned from your past trips. That's what travel comes down to, right? You get all your paperwork in order. You can't sleep. You're traveling again. You feel alive...
This time, I'll be traveling with my friend M and his sister J. What started out as a mancation with M has evolved into...a mancation plus one. The spirit of the mancation, however, will not die.
We will visit three cities with incredibly rich histories. They also have bulging populations. I have no idea what the next 10 days have in store for me. I could be riding a camel. I could be taking a Turkish Bath and be manhandled...literally. I could see the Acropolis at sunset, as the light turns the Parthenon into a golden brown. I could be harassed by Egyptian cab drivers. That's more of a certainty.
I'll be trying something new this time around. For the first time, I'll be tweeting my trip. Go to my twitter page, and you'll see what I'm up to. If I'm able, I'll post some entries here.
OK. Enough thinking...
Let's do this.
You want to travel. You tell your friend; the one that's always online, has the same 9-to-5 type of job, and like you, is itching to get outta here. You throw out destinations. You want to go to Latin America because it's cheap. He wants to go to Europe. You panic. Europe is way too expensive for you. You start to think that 2010 would be a better time.
Your friend says, "Screw that!" and drags you to Barnes and Noble to browse guidebooks. You insist on Costa Rica. "It's not that bad, really!" He's not buying it. You browse and browse some more, until you and friend see the Lonely Planet guide to Greece. You're intrigued.
You look online, at the site where you booked your last Europe Trip. You see packages for Athens and the Greek Isles so cheap that it's too good to be true. Out of the corner of your eye, you see packages for Greece and Turkey. You're more intrigued.
You tell your friend. He gets excited. You go back online and you see a package on the site that you didn't see earlier: Athens to Cairo to Istanbul. WHAT? CAIRO?? The Pyramids? The Sphinx?? Are you KIDDING me?
Your pulse quickens. You get jumpy. You and your friend go over the possible dates, flight info, hotels. You book your trip. You read the Rick Steves guidebooks to Athens and Istanbul all the way through. You read them again. And again. You pick up the Lonely Planet guide to Egypt, just for completeness. You read the tiny section on Cairo, and feel shortchanged.
You spend the night before your trip packing. You dust off your nemesis. You try to remember all the tricks you learned from your past trips. That's what travel comes down to, right? You get all your paperwork in order. You can't sleep. You're traveling again. You feel alive...
This time, I'll be traveling with my friend M and his sister J. What started out as a mancation with M has evolved into...a mancation plus one. The spirit of the mancation, however, will not die.
We will visit three cities with incredibly rich histories. They also have bulging populations. I have no idea what the next 10 days have in store for me. I could be riding a camel. I could be taking a Turkish Bath and be manhandled...literally. I could see the Acropolis at sunset, as the light turns the Parthenon into a golden brown. I could be harassed by Egyptian cab drivers. That's more of a certainty.
I'll be trying something new this time around. For the first time, I'll be tweeting my trip. Go to my twitter page, and you'll see what I'm up to. If I'm able, I'll post some entries here.
OK. Enough thinking...
Let's do this.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
L.A. Adventures: Joshua Tree at Sunset
*Photo by: Leslie Peterson*
The stillness alarms you. You're so far removed from the city, you don't hear a thing. No cars screeching, no children screaming. No desert creatures marking their territories. Not even nature makes a sound.
This is Joshua Tree at sunset. An hour's drive from Palm Springs, you'd be crazy to visit this national park in the middle of an August day. So why did my friends and I come here? Blame the Perseid Meteors.
We tried to catch this event two days after the meteor shower hit its peak. And since you can't see much of anything in the sky while you're in Los Angeles, we needed to drive far away into the Cochella Valley. We passed the visitor's center an hour before the sun came down. The rock formations looked as if they were placed there by giants. But the quiet shook us to our core.
*Photo by: Lori Higa*
To see the Perseid Meteors, we drove to Keys View, which overlooks the Cochella Valley. There's a perpetual haze over the valley, so you don't have a great view of Palm Springs. You do get purple skies with a hint of orange. You do get rolling hills peeking out of the haze. You get one of the most stunning sunsets Southern California has to offer.
We had Keys View to ourselves, except for a pot-loving astronomer named Chuck and two Aussies playing the didjeridu. We laid out blankets and stared at the night sky. We saw few meteors. Most of my friends saw six or seven. I saw two. But they were BIG ones.
We saw Jupiter and the Big Dipper. We saw cosmic dust. We saw satellites and planes, thinking they were shooting stars. We saw the universe. And after three hours, our necks started to hurt and we left Joshua Tree and its stillness.
And as we drove back, I thought, "Who would have thought we could see the universe two hours away from L.A.?"
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Posing For Solo Pictures
Posing for travel photos is key. It's the most important part of your trip. Take one bad pic, your vacation is toast.
I learned this the hard way, on my trip to Europe back in '06.
This is me in London. Awkward on so many levels. Look at me trying to look all Rico Suave. This picture is a stain.
In my defense, I was trying to be like this guy:
Look how COOL he is. Why couldn't I look this cool??
It didn't get any better in Paris.
I guess I had a thing for railings. And I don't know what my hand is doing on my hip.
This was killing me for days. Couldn't I just be like everyone else and take a decent picture? Does no one else have this problem??
It wasn't until Amsterdam where I found my groove.
Here I am at the Heineken Experience. I should point out that my friends took this when I wasn't looking.
By the end of my trip, I realized that the best pictures are the simplest. The ones that are less about posing. The ones that show personality yet involve your surroundings.
They're also the ones that involve kegs of Dutch beer.
I learned this the hard way, on my trip to Europe back in '06.
This is me in London. Awkward on so many levels. Look at me trying to look all Rico Suave. This picture is a stain.
In my defense, I was trying to be like this guy:
Look how COOL he is. Why couldn't I look this cool??
It didn't get any better in Paris.
I guess I had a thing for railings. And I don't know what my hand is doing on my hip.
This was killing me for days. Couldn't I just be like everyone else and take a decent picture? Does no one else have this problem??
It wasn't until Amsterdam where I found my groove.
Here I am at the Heineken Experience. I should point out that my friends took this when I wasn't looking.
By the end of my trip, I realized that the best pictures are the simplest. The ones that are less about posing. The ones that show personality yet involve your surroundings.
They're also the ones that involve kegs of Dutch beer.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Traveling With Friends
There's an article on Matador Travel that got me thinking:
How to Deal With Friends While Traveling
I left a comment, but there's one more piece of advice I'd like to offer.
If you and your friends reach a point in your travels where you just can't stand each other, duke it out. I'm serious. Find a nice, open area and have at it. FIGHT.
I'm not saying beat your friends up till they're a bloody mess. I'm just saying both of you need to let some aggression out. So there's nothing wrong with putting your backpacking buddy in a headlock. Just don't break any bones.
A wide open area works well for a fight. St. Mark's Square works well. The Inca Trail does not. Outdoors would be preferable, although if you're in an English pub, you could get away with it. You might get help from the patrons.
Consider your surroundings when you grapple. You don't want to fight in high altitudes, since you'll get tired easily. Again, the Sacred Valley is No Fighting Zone. Is there a fountain close to where you're fighting? That's even better. First one to get completely soaked loses. This works best on a hot day. Oh that reminds me, make sure you're hydrated. All that slap-fighting and such can take a lot out of you.
If there is more than one person in your traveling party that you have a beef with, consider a Battle Royal. Last man (or woman) standing is the winner. Or, if you'd like to foster team dynamics, a tag team battle works well here.
If you decide to follow my advice, it's best to pack accordingly. Make sure to bring three very long pieces of nylon rope; Enough rope to from a wrestling ring. You can be creative with your surrounding and use trees, stop signs or statues as ring posts. To be inclusive, convince a local to officiate your bout. And if your new-found referee declares you the winner, buy him a drink.
Some people might find this advice barbaric. Whatever. This isn't about them. This is about you and your friends hashing out your differences the way men and women have done for years. By senseless physical horseplay.
It'll work. Trust me.
How to Deal With Friends While Traveling
I left a comment, but there's one more piece of advice I'd like to offer.
If you and your friends reach a point in your travels where you just can't stand each other, duke it out. I'm serious. Find a nice, open area and have at it. FIGHT.
I'm not saying beat your friends up till they're a bloody mess. I'm just saying both of you need to let some aggression out. So there's nothing wrong with putting your backpacking buddy in a headlock. Just don't break any bones.
A wide open area works well for a fight. St. Mark's Square works well. The Inca Trail does not. Outdoors would be preferable, although if you're in an English pub, you could get away with it. You might get help from the patrons.
Consider your surroundings when you grapple. You don't want to fight in high altitudes, since you'll get tired easily. Again, the Sacred Valley is No Fighting Zone. Is there a fountain close to where you're fighting? That's even better. First one to get completely soaked loses. This works best on a hot day. Oh that reminds me, make sure you're hydrated. All that slap-fighting and such can take a lot out of you.
If there is more than one person in your traveling party that you have a beef with, consider a Battle Royal. Last man (or woman) standing is the winner. Or, if you'd like to foster team dynamics, a tag team battle works well here.
If you decide to follow my advice, it's best to pack accordingly. Make sure to bring three very long pieces of nylon rope; Enough rope to from a wrestling ring. You can be creative with your surrounding and use trees, stop signs or statues as ring posts. To be inclusive, convince a local to officiate your bout. And if your new-found referee declares you the winner, buy him a drink.
Some people might find this advice barbaric. Whatever. This isn't about them. This is about you and your friends hashing out your differences the way men and women have done for years. By senseless physical horseplay.
It'll work. Trust me.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
L.A. Adventures: Chelsea/Inter Milan at the Rose Bowl
On a hot Pasadena evening, I caught a football match. You know, real football. Not that American kind. I'm talkin' FOOTBALL. Where guys don't touch the ball with their hands and dive on the field without anyone touching them.
Chelsea played Inter Milan, as part of the World Football Challenge. Also part of the challenge, but playing elsewhere in the States, are AC Milan and Club America. These matches are friendlies played in round-robin style. This is hardly Champions League levels of prestige, but hey, you can spend part of your summer in sunny Southern California.
I went to the match with my friends Nate, Giulia and Ken. We arrived at the Rose Bowl 30 minutes late. It happens. This is LA.
Our seats were close to the pitch (Ooh look at me with my football terminology). Having never been to a match before, I had no idea that the majority of the time is spent standing up. I was exhausted from the drive in, so I chose to sit. This hampered my view a little.
This is Inter making a run...
...and this is Chelsea about to take a corner kick. I was rooting for Chelsea because part of my tour of London included a visit to Stamford Bridge, which remains a highlight of my time there.
While missing the first 20 minutes of the game (oops, sorry, MATCH), we saw the halftime entertainment in its entirety. According to Nate, the singer's name was Andy. Andy from Aremenia. I looked up at the Jumbotron and saw this. She wasn't so bad...
...until I realized Andy was the dude with the tight black jeans and yellow shirt. He wasn't so bad either. There were also belly dancers on stage, but I was too stunned to take any pictures. Sorry.
The second half proved uneventful, except for a lone Chelsea goal on a penalty kick. The rest of the match was spent taking in all the sights (such as the two Inter guys in the picture above doing ab workouts throughout the half) and listening to Nate and Ken talk football formations and English Premier League news. Now I know how my friends feel when I talk about UCLA basketball. They're probably thinking, "What is this guy talking about? He's speaking but I can't understand a WORD he's saying!" Yeah, that's how I felt. Sorry guys.
The match ended at 10. We didn't get out of the Rose Bowl until 11:15. That's actually pretty good. The night was capped with a jaunt to the Red Lion Inn in Silverlake. Bratwurst never tasted so good.
Did I mention this was on a work night? I didn't get home until 1:45 AM. I don't do that often, but the following day as I sit at work in a daze wondering what the hell just happened, I question my choice to stay up late. And then I plan for the next outing.
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Niche
I found this article on my twitter feed last week.
Why Travel Writers Really Need a Niche
The article suggests to "find a specific topic that you are passionate about (and no, “travel” is not specific enough), and focus on writing about that topic."
I read this article and became disheartened. While I love writing about travel, I don't have a niche. I haven't been abroad for that long to be considered an expert in anything.
While I'm sad that I can't think of a niche right away, I realize the niches are found over time. And the more I try to find a niche, the more frustrated I'll become. And the desire to write will die.
Screw that.
In the meantime, I'll keep writing, honing the craft, finding my voice. Although I will say that after some thought, I have a feeling my niche will be somewhat related to this picture:
I think I'll rename my blog "Me and the Cuy." That's pretty precise, right?
Why Travel Writers Really Need a Niche
The article suggests to "find a specific topic that you are passionate about (and no, “travel” is not specific enough), and focus on writing about that topic."
I read this article and became disheartened. While I love writing about travel, I don't have a niche. I haven't been abroad for that long to be considered an expert in anything.
While I'm sad that I can't think of a niche right away, I realize the niches are found over time. And the more I try to find a niche, the more frustrated I'll become. And the desire to write will die.
Screw that.
In the meantime, I'll keep writing, honing the craft, finding my voice. Although I will say that after some thought, I have a feeling my niche will be somewhat related to this picture:
I think I'll rename my blog "Me and the Cuy." That's pretty precise, right?
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Stateside
A year ago on this day, I was riding an elephant in Chiang Mai.
Two years ago, I was on a plane to Lima, ready to hike the Sacred Trail of the Incas.
Today, I'm in L.A., minutes away from meeting with friends, watching fireworks and eating pulled pork sandwiches.
This is the first time I've celebrated Independence Day stateside in three years. I enjoyed being abroad every July 4th. It made me more aware of my place in this gigantic world. It made me proud to be an American. But it also made me more aware of cultures that are not my own.
But there's nothing like a Fourth of July BBQ. I've missed those.
Two years ago, I was on a plane to Lima, ready to hike the Sacred Trail of the Incas.
Today, I'm in L.A., minutes away from meeting with friends, watching fireworks and eating pulled pork sandwiches.
This is the first time I've celebrated Independence Day stateside in three years. I enjoyed being abroad every July 4th. It made me more aware of my place in this gigantic world. It made me proud to be an American. But it also made me more aware of cultures that are not my own.
But there's nothing like a Fourth of July BBQ. I've missed those.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Kokoreç
There's a section in the Rick Steves guide to Istanbul devoted to street food. Along with mussels,kebabs and sandwiches, you can also get something called Kokoreç.
*Credit: Turkish Politics in Action*
Kokoreç is basically grilled sheep intestines, seasoned, and served with tomatoes and peppers. I don't know how it tastes, but I aim to eat one of these bad boys. Hold the tomato.
Could it be any worse than balut? Or cuy? I doubt it. I'll try most foods, especially if they're sold by street vendors. Am I crazy? Probably.
Has anyone had Kokoreç ? What's it like? Should I be warned?
*Credit: Turkish Politics in Action*
Kokoreç is basically grilled sheep intestines, seasoned, and served with tomatoes and peppers. I don't know how it tastes, but I aim to eat one of these bad boys. Hold the tomato.
Could it be any worse than balut? Or cuy? I doubt it. I'll try most foods, especially if they're sold by street vendors. Am I crazy? Probably.
Has anyone had Kokoreç ? What's it like? Should I be warned?
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Wandering
I ordered Rick Steves' Guides to Istanbul and Athens, as well as the Lonely Planet Guide to Egypt. Guidebooks maybe considered "old school" nowadays, with the proliferation of Twitter accounts, online forums and blogs. The traveler has so much information, that lugging huge books in their backpacks is inconvenient. Whatever. I still get the guidebooks.
Rick Steves' books are big on self-guided walking tours. One of my fondest memories of Amsterdam is the taking the Jordaan walking tour. I wandered down canals, passed people's homes, all in relative peace. Those are the experiences I long for.
*Taken on the Jordaan Walk*
When traveling, don't forget The Wandering. Wandering works best when you're traveling independently, but some organized tours have time in their itineraries for walking around and taking in the scene. Beware the tours that limit your wandering time.
Unless you're in North Korea. Then don't wander.
Rick Steves' books are big on self-guided walking tours. One of my fondest memories of Amsterdam is the taking the Jordaan walking tour. I wandered down canals, passed people's homes, all in relative peace. Those are the experiences I long for.
*Taken on the Jordaan Walk*
When traveling, don't forget The Wandering. Wandering works best when you're traveling independently, but some organized tours have time in their itineraries for walking around and taking in the scene. Beware the tours that limit your wandering time.
Unless you're in North Korea. Then don't wander.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Travel Keywords
This month, I've been learning how to be a better man.
The Art of Manliness has a 30-day challenge on how to be a better man. Each day, men (and women, should they choose to accept the challenge) are given a task to complete. The tasks vary from shining your shoes, to taking a woman on a date, to writing your own eulogy. Each task is geared to equip males to become better...males.
The task for Day One was Define Your Core Values. What are the values by which you live your life? For example, my core values are Humor, Humility, Honesty, Integrity and Love. With everything I do and say, I try to adhere to these values.
Why not apply this concept of to travel? When we plan a trip, we want to do too much. We pack our itineraries to the brim. Then our trip becomes more about crossing off things on our to-do list, than enjoying our surroundings. That's no fun.
What if we did some thinking before we plan? What if we came up with a short list of Travel Core Values? Core Values may not be a good fit here, so let's say Keywords; What do we think of when we see "travel"? What phrases or images come to mind? Once we define those Keywords, our planning can now be centered around these words. We don't have to plan everything. Just the things that matter to us.
Here are some sample Keywords:
Food
Culture
Music
Fun
Partying
Adventure
Politics
Community
Environment
History
Art
Volunteering
...and there are so many more Keywords out there.
A fun exercise you could do by yourself, or with your travel companions, is to come up with three to five Travel Keywords. From there, when you plan, you can spend your energy researching activities that are centered around those Keywords. Your trip can be a quest to find the perfect Italian gelato, or a week secluded in a Tuscan villa. You get the most out of your vacation, and peace of mind, to boot.
What are your Travel Keywords? I'll put mine up shortly...
The Art of Manliness has a 30-day challenge on how to be a better man. Each day, men (and women, should they choose to accept the challenge) are given a task to complete. The tasks vary from shining your shoes, to taking a woman on a date, to writing your own eulogy. Each task is geared to equip males to become better...males.
The task for Day One was Define Your Core Values. What are the values by which you live your life? For example, my core values are Humor, Humility, Honesty, Integrity and Love. With everything I do and say, I try to adhere to these values.
Why not apply this concept of to travel? When we plan a trip, we want to do too much. We pack our itineraries to the brim. Then our trip becomes more about crossing off things on our to-do list, than enjoying our surroundings. That's no fun.
What if we did some thinking before we plan? What if we came up with a short list of Travel Core Values? Core Values may not be a good fit here, so let's say Keywords; What do we think of when we see "travel"? What phrases or images come to mind? Once we define those Keywords, our planning can now be centered around these words. We don't have to plan everything. Just the things that matter to us.
Here are some sample Keywords:
Food
Culture
Music
Fun
Partying
Adventure
Politics
Community
Environment
History
Art
Volunteering
...and there are so many more Keywords out there.
A fun exercise you could do by yourself, or with your travel companions, is to come up with three to five Travel Keywords. From there, when you plan, you can spend your energy researching activities that are centered around those Keywords. Your trip can be a quest to find the perfect Italian gelato, or a week secluded in a Tuscan villa. You get the most out of your vacation, and peace of mind, to boot.
What are your Travel Keywords? I'll put mine up shortly...
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Southwest Airlines is Cool
I wish all flight attendants were like him.
Seeing this video makes me want to get on a plane and go somewhere. I just wish I had the time.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Invest In Travel
Now that Tax Day has come and gone, some of you are fortunate to get a refund from Uncle Sam.
The economy stinks. I know. Retirement funds are dwindling. Stocks are plummeting. Anxiety abounds. What are we to do?
We travel, dangit!
Travel Guru Rick Steves puts it best:
So, what's the impact of these “hard times” for travelers? Airfares are down about 20 percent since this time last year. (I just sent one of our researchers to Europe, flying from Seattle into London and home from Rome for $600 — wow.) Our dollar is about 20 percent stronger versus the euro, compared to a year ago (the euro used to cost $1.60, now it costs about $1.25). And the tumbling stock market means most of us have 30 or 40 percent less in our retirement accounts than we hoped to at this time. (Many are starting to think that investing in life experiences like travel might bring better and more reliable returns than investing in the stock market.)
Now is a great time to travel. And not just because everything is reasonably priced. But at a time when we're so reluctant to trust in our 401ks for our financial well-being, how about investing in "life experiences" that only travel can bring.
Invest in travel. The rewards are priceless.
The economy stinks. I know. Retirement funds are dwindling. Stocks are plummeting. Anxiety abounds. What are we to do?
We travel, dangit!
Travel Guru Rick Steves puts it best:
So, what's the impact of these “hard times” for travelers? Airfares are down about 20 percent since this time last year. (I just sent one of our researchers to Europe, flying from Seattle into London and home from Rome for $600 — wow.) Our dollar is about 20 percent stronger versus the euro, compared to a year ago (the euro used to cost $1.60, now it costs about $1.25). And the tumbling stock market means most of us have 30 or 40 percent less in our retirement accounts than we hoped to at this time. (Many are starting to think that investing in life experiences like travel might bring better and more reliable returns than investing in the stock market.)
Now is a great time to travel. And not just because everything is reasonably priced. But at a time when we're so reluctant to trust in our 401ks for our financial well-being, how about investing in "life experiences" that only travel can bring.
Invest in travel. The rewards are priceless.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Running The Red Lights
Patpong, located in central
*The one picture I can show*
Here are three reasons to run the Red Light:
For the Thrill - Patpong is an assault on the senses. With every step, peddlers harass you, trying to lure you to check out a “Ping-Pong Show.” You pass booths selling cheap trinkets to take home. You pass by the plethora of Girlie Bars, each one bearing tacky neon lighting, with the pulsing techno beat streaming out the entrance. You’re tempted to come inside for a drink. The air is sticky. There’s a constant cloud of cigarette smoke trailing you. The streets are packed with horrified tourists. And all the while you ask yourself, “What exactly IS a Ping-Pong Show?”
Anyone can charter a bus to a famous landmark, take a picture and leave. You can’t do that in the Red light district. It requires immersion, forcing you to see, smell and hear everything.
For Facing Reality - You can read about the sex trade in a newspaper or online. But when you see it live, there is no substitute. When you're in
For the Folks Back Home - When you share your latest travels, do your friends look at you with glazed eyes? Are they bored? Disinterested? Here’s what you do. Go to the Red Light! Just tell them about the time you went to the Ping-Pong show. And when you share (I can’t do that here), they’ll laugh. They’ll cry. They’ll pass out. But they won’t be bored. And you might scare them away from table tennis for good.
The Red Lights in
Just mind the ping pong balls.
----------------------------
This is the last essay from my Thailand. I know I promised a 4th, but too much time has passed. To make up for it, I've included a video:
It's a little dark and grainy. But I did really sing!
On to the next trip! Booking soon. Details to follow...
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The Z-List
I have a long list of places to visit. I break them down into smaller lists. There's an A-List; places that I want to go right now if possible (Spain, China, Italy), a B-List: places that are on my mind and would like to visit but it's not so urgent (India, Ireland, Morocco), and so on down the line.
I also have a Z-List, places where I'd rather not go. You can take a guess which countries those would be. Iraq? Check. Afghanistan? Check. Detroit? You betcha. (I kid you, Motown...)
Which is what makes this NY Times article all the more inspiring; A group of middle-aged and older tourists on a tour of Iraq. Yes, that place we invaded six years ago. Where that madman Saddam reigned for so long. And they survived!
The danger that comes with going to such a war-torn country intrigues me. Yet I'd rather not travel to a dangerous place for the sake of going to a dangerous place. I want to go somewhere to immerse myself, to soak in the people and culture. Could I do that if I'm constantly wondering, "Could I actually die today?" and ask that question without being dramatic? I don't think I can.
I'm being honest. I cannot see myself finding the will to book a flight to Baghdad International Airport on Kayak. That doesn't mean I don't have the curiosity. Turns out there aren't any flights going there at this time.
Maybe in a few years, when the violence has dissipated and the fears subsided, I'll move Iraq up from the Z-List to the S-List. It could happen.
For those reading, what's on your "Z-List"? Where wouldn't you go? And what would it take for you to think about going there?
I also have a Z-List, places where I'd rather not go. You can take a guess which countries those would be. Iraq? Check. Afghanistan? Check. Detroit? You betcha. (I kid you, Motown...)
Which is what makes this NY Times article all the more inspiring; A group of middle-aged and older tourists on a tour of Iraq. Yes, that place we invaded six years ago. Where that madman Saddam reigned for so long. And they survived!
The danger that comes with going to such a war-torn country intrigues me. Yet I'd rather not travel to a dangerous place for the sake of going to a dangerous place. I want to go somewhere to immerse myself, to soak in the people and culture. Could I do that if I'm constantly wondering, "Could I actually die today?" and ask that question without being dramatic? I don't think I can.
I'm being honest. I cannot see myself finding the will to book a flight to Baghdad International Airport on Kayak. That doesn't mean I don't have the curiosity. Turns out there aren't any flights going there at this time.
Maybe in a few years, when the violence has dissipated and the fears subsided, I'll move Iraq up from the Z-List to the S-List. It could happen.
For those reading, what's on your "Z-List"? Where wouldn't you go? And what would it take for you to think about going there?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Travels With Pandora
Pandora doesn't have a world music catalog (yet), but you can still create wonderful Latin-themed stations.
Thinking about a trip to Argentina? Fire up the Pandora and launch a Tango station. Feeling like laying on the beach in Rio? Plan your trip while listening to Jobim or Astrud Gilberto in the background. Or Samba, if you're in a dancing mood. Maybe you're in a Spanish mood. How about some Gipsy Kings flavor?
Pandora now carries Celtic, Zydeco and Hawaiian music. And soon (I hope) we'll have African, Indian and who knows what else?
If you have Pandora stations with a world music flair, please share. I'm always looking for more.
Thinking about a trip to Argentina? Fire up the Pandora and launch a Tango station. Feeling like laying on the beach in Rio? Plan your trip while listening to Jobim or Astrud Gilberto in the background. Or Samba, if you're in a dancing mood. Maybe you're in a Spanish mood. How about some Gipsy Kings flavor?
Pandora now carries Celtic, Zydeco and Hawaiian music. And soon (I hope) we'll have African, Indian and who knows what else?
If you have Pandora stations with a world music flair, please share. I'm always looking for more.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wa-Wa
(This is second of four essays that I had been meaning to write about my Thailand/Malaysia trip. These were essays that were just too good to fire off quickly. And since I have a bit of free time, I thought I'd work on them. Hope you enjoy.)
I sink in a leather recliner with my feet up. Matilda is working on my toes. That's not her real name, but it helps me through the foot massage.
The recliner is in a massage parlor in Jalan Petaling. As this is my first full day in Malaysia, I have no idea what this area is like. I had spent a week all over Thailand prior to arriving; A week filled with foot massages. Glorious foot massages. My feet had never felt more alive. But this isn't Thailand, and Matilda is caressing my right heel. I close my eyes and sigh. This place isn't so bad. I get can used to another few days of this...
As I open my eyes, Matilda pauses to look up at me. She winks. That's odd. Is this Malaysian custom? Lonely Planet said nothing about the locals being this friendly. Matilda goes back to work. I steal a glance. To put it gently, she is not attractive. She should be pushing carts at dim sum. That doesn't matter. As long as she can make me feel at peace, I'm fine with this.
She stops working and stands. She spreads her arms wide open. "Full body!" She exclaims. She winks again. I'm concerned, but I'm too relaxed. Why give my feet all the pleasure? My back aches, my neck is stiff and my arms are tense. I nod my head. Full body, indeed.
Matilda leads me up a flight of stairs that creak with each step. She leads me into a dim room, separated by dividers. She gestures for me to take off my shirt. Really, my shirt? I don't remember doing this in Chiang Mai. Are you sure this is really necessary? Don't I just put on a robe or something? Matilda continues her gesturing, so off comes the shirt. She winks, and I start to crave shrimp dumplings.
After 15 minutes of rubbing my back, Matilda takes a step back and asks me to remove my shorts. Hold on. Now I KNOW this sort of thing didn't happenin Phuket. Matilda gestures some more. In the adjacent room, a man and a woman breathe heavily. My mind wanders. I feel a chill. Matilda has succeeded in removing my shorts. I don't even remember taking them off for her.
I feel a tug. Matilda is going for the briefs, but the money belt is preventing her. She laughs as she undos the belt. She kisses my ear and whispers, "Wa-wa?"
I snap out of my daze. Wa-wa? What the heck does that mean? Is she asking if I want a glass of water? Does she want an extra hour to massage me? Is she offering steamed buns? I freeze. I don't want to know what wa-wa is. Not now, not ever. I spill off the table as I pull up my briefs. "NO WA-WA! NO!"
Matilda stares back in horror. The heavy breathing next door has stopped. The entire parlor is silent. I fish for some ringgits in my money belt before fastening it back on. Matilda is confused. "No wa-wa?" She asks, as if nobody has ever refused her wa-wa. "No. I'm done." She shrugs and returns my sandals, along with a handful of grape chewy candies for my troubles.
I step out of the parlor, into the sunshine. I stop at an outdoor Chinese restaurant. I sit waiting for my fried rice, making a note to myself that if anyone should offer me wa-wa at some point, to run. Run like hell.
I sink in a leather recliner with my feet up. Matilda is working on my toes. That's not her real name, but it helps me through the foot massage.
The recliner is in a massage parlor in Jalan Petaling. As this is my first full day in Malaysia, I have no idea what this area is like. I had spent a week all over Thailand prior to arriving; A week filled with foot massages. Glorious foot massages. My feet had never felt more alive. But this isn't Thailand, and Matilda is caressing my right heel. I close my eyes and sigh. This place isn't so bad. I get can used to another few days of this...
As I open my eyes, Matilda pauses to look up at me. She winks. That's odd. Is this Malaysian custom? Lonely Planet said nothing about the locals being this friendly. Matilda goes back to work. I steal a glance. To put it gently, she is not attractive. She should be pushing carts at dim sum. That doesn't matter. As long as she can make me feel at peace, I'm fine with this.
She stops working and stands. She spreads her arms wide open. "Full body!" She exclaims. She winks again. I'm concerned, but I'm too relaxed. Why give my feet all the pleasure? My back aches, my neck is stiff and my arms are tense. I nod my head. Full body, indeed.
Matilda leads me up a flight of stairs that creak with each step. She leads me into a dim room, separated by dividers. She gestures for me to take off my shirt. Really, my shirt? I don't remember doing this in Chiang Mai. Are you sure this is really necessary? Don't I just put on a robe or something? Matilda continues her gesturing, so off comes the shirt. She winks, and I start to crave shrimp dumplings.
After 15 minutes of rubbing my back, Matilda takes a step back and asks me to remove my shorts. Hold on. Now I KNOW this sort of thing didn't happenin Phuket. Matilda gestures some more. In the adjacent room, a man and a woman breathe heavily. My mind wanders. I feel a chill. Matilda has succeeded in removing my shorts. I don't even remember taking them off for her.
I feel a tug. Matilda is going for the briefs, but the money belt is preventing her. She laughs as she undos the belt. She kisses my ear and whispers, "Wa-wa?"
I snap out of my daze. Wa-wa? What the heck does that mean? Is she asking if I want a glass of water? Does she want an extra hour to massage me? Is she offering steamed buns? I freeze. I don't want to know what wa-wa is. Not now, not ever. I spill off the table as I pull up my briefs. "NO WA-WA! NO!"
Matilda stares back in horror. The heavy breathing next door has stopped. The entire parlor is silent. I fish for some ringgits in my money belt before fastening it back on. Matilda is confused. "No wa-wa?" She asks, as if nobody has ever refused her wa-wa. "No. I'm done." She shrugs and returns my sandals, along with a handful of grape chewy candies for my troubles.
I step out of the parlor, into the sunshine. I stop at an outdoor Chinese restaurant. I sit waiting for my fried rice, making a note to myself that if anyone should offer me wa-wa at some point, to run. Run like hell.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Twitters
To cleanse myself of my addiction, I have been refraining from Facebook for the past few weeks. In its place, I have been Twittering.
I didn't "get" Twitter for a while. What can't I do on Twitter than I can do when updating my Facebook status? Isn't it the same thing? I was so wrong.
While Facebook allows you to make friends, Twitter lets you follow people. You can follow anybody: athletes, musicians, Sith Lords...you name it. You can even stalk your favorite taco truck, have its updates sent to your mobile, and chase it like a great white whale.
But for Travel Junkies, Twitter is a gift from the heavens. You can find great deals, travel articles, ideas for you next trip. More importantly, you can build your network. You'll meet fellow Travel Junkies, read their tweets. You'll make new friends in far away places that will but you a beer when you visit.
I've only been on Twitter for a short while, but it's already paying off. For the first time in months, I'm moved to start writing in this blog, with regularity. It's a beautiful thing.
And since you're here, how about following me?
I didn't "get" Twitter for a while. What can't I do on Twitter than I can do when updating my Facebook status? Isn't it the same thing? I was so wrong.
While Facebook allows you to make friends, Twitter lets you follow people. You can follow anybody: athletes, musicians, Sith Lords...you name it. You can even stalk your favorite taco truck, have its updates sent to your mobile, and chase it like a great white whale.
But for Travel Junkies, Twitter is a gift from the heavens. You can find great deals, travel articles, ideas for you next trip. More importantly, you can build your network. You'll meet fellow Travel Junkies, read their tweets. You'll make new friends in far away places that will but you a beer when you visit.
I've only been on Twitter for a short while, but it's already paying off. For the first time in months, I'm moved to start writing in this blog, with regularity. It's a beautiful thing.
And since you're here, how about following me?
Monday, March 16, 2009
No Vegas and More
I'm staying home for March Madness for the first time in six years. The new job won't give me time off until April, and also? No money to play with.
I'm bummed, but not totally. I'll just save the money I would have spent this weekend on a better trip. NYC? Bay Area? Who knows.
As for the Next Big Trip, I've pretty much settled on a destination. Now I just need to start saving up...and brush up on my Greek.
I'm bummed, but not totally. I'll just save the money I would have spent this weekend on a better trip. NYC? Bay Area? Who knows.
As for the Next Big Trip, I've pretty much settled on a destination. Now I just need to start saving up...and brush up on my Greek.
Friday, January 2, 2009
The Cobra Has Two Pennies
(This is first of four essays that I had been meaning to write about my Thailand/Malaysia trip. These were essays that were just too good to fire off quickly. And since I have a bit of free time, I thought I'd work on them. Hope you enjoy.)
Cousin Pinky booked me a tour for my first day in Thailand. She tells me I'll see the Floating Market, an Elephant Farm and a Cobra Show. "Whatever," I think. "I haven't slept in 24 hours. I haven't eaten. I smell funny. I'll see anything. I just want to see the real Thailand."
It's 7am, and I'm in a minivan with two old Chinese men and an Indian family. We leave Bangkok, and head toward the rural outskirts of the city. We pass by immaculate portraits of His Royal Higness, Rama IX. With each picture, everyone in the van snaps their cameras. I am tempted to ask if this is necessary. One picture of the King should be enough. Unless you need a shot of him facing left AND right. I brush it aside and put my iPod on full blast.
The minivan stops at a dock with several motorboats. The boats take us down a winding canal, to the Floating Market. We are given a choice: Pay 150 Baht (Roughly $5 US) to board a canoe and have a villager paddle us around while we shop, or pay nothing and sit on a bench for 90 minutes. I pay the 150 Baht. What's five dollars to me right now? This is my first day in a new country. I want to experience Thailand!
After 30 minutes of having my guide lead me past other canoes filled with tourists and merchants, I ask him to take me back. As I sit on the bench, munching on sandwiches that Pinky prepared in the morning, I spot a canoe of tourists, all wearing straw hats purchased minutes before. I sigh. That could have been me in a funny hat. That could have been me purchasing a bushel of mangoes for 100 bucks. That could have been me buying a minature wooden elephant for 50 dollars. I'd be out of money on the first day, but at least I'd be happy...
It's 11 am, and we head to the Elephant Farm. We, again, are given a choice; Pay 600 Baht to ride an elephant through the jungle, pay an extra 150 baht to feed the beast of bunch of bananas, or pay nothing and stand around and have the employees walk up to you and attempt to solicit a 200 Baht donation. I shell out 750 Baht. To ride and feed. What's 25 dollars to me? I want the real Thailand!
The ride takes 30 minutes. The trail is a loop around a paved road, through a mud pit and some trees. Two-thirds of the way, the guide, perched on the elephants neck, reaches behind him and grabs the bananas. He feeds the elephant MY bananas. The bananas that I purchased. MY bananas. I want to yell at the guide, but his back is to me. "Why didn't you let me feed them?" I quietly scream at the back of his head. "I'M supposed to feed him. I didn't come halfway around the world to have somebody deny me the joy having an elephant swipe bananas from my hands. Give me back my bananas, damnit!!"
The guide turns back. "Oh crap, he must have heard me," I think. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a plastic baggie. Inside the baggie are two metallic elephants. I have no idea what they are supposed to be. They look like earrings. They could be cuff links. "200 Baht," The guide says. I stare at him. "I don't know what these are." "150 Baht." He replies. I've had enough. "No, I don't want." The guide makes a motion with his hands. He mimics eating a bowl of rice. I'm guessing this is the universal sign for "I need to eat." I'm tempted to ask, "Why didn't you just take my bananas?" I bite my tongue. I just want off this elephant...
It's 2pm and we pull into the Cobra show. We're tired. The Indian family has put away their cameras and look like they're about to pass out. The minivan driver turns to us. "This show is REALLY good! Cobras! Very scary! 200 Baht!" The Chinese men throw up their hands in disgust.
We're led to an amphitheater, enclosing a large pit. Behind the pit is the stage, where the emcee stands behind a podium. He holds up a faded picture of a man. "A few years ago, this man died." The crowd is silent. An uneasiness fills the air. We are scared out of our wits.
In the middle of the pit stands the cobra handler. He's a scary Thai with a bushy mustache and a snake in his hands. He kisses the cobra. He catches the cobra with his bare hands. He throws the cobra in a cage with a mongoose. He holds the cobra in place and moves into the crowd. He holds it out for us to pet. I pass.
"The cobra has two pennies!" The emcees shouts out of nowhere. I look around. Did anyone else get that? The rest of the crowd can't understand him either. "The cobra has two pennies!" His voice increases. We're confused. A gasp escapes the crowd. The handler has reached for the cobra and unfolded a layer of skin, exposing two bulbous sex organs. A wave of flash bulbs cover the amphitheater.The emcee is not talking about loose change. "The cobra is very, very lucky!" The emcee winks. "The cobra has twice as much fun!" The crowd giggles.
I stare at the two pennies. This is what I wanted to see; Something new. Something exciting. Something that says, "You're in Thailand, damnit. Love it!" I fumble with my camera to get a good shot. By the time I'm ready to shoot, the pennies are gone. I'm sad, but the image has burned itself into memory forever...
It's 6pm, and the minivan has returned to downtown Bangkok. Pinky waits me for me. "How was the tour?? Did you see a lot of things?"
"Yeah...Hey, did you know the cobra has two pennies?"
"What?!"
"Never mind." I sigh. "Man, I'm hungry."
"We'll go out. Maybe we'll find snakes! Hahaha!"
"That would be awesome."
Cousin Pinky booked me a tour for my first day in Thailand. She tells me I'll see the Floating Market, an Elephant Farm and a Cobra Show. "Whatever," I think. "I haven't slept in 24 hours. I haven't eaten. I smell funny. I'll see anything. I just want to see the real Thailand."
It's 7am, and I'm in a minivan with two old Chinese men and an Indian family. We leave Bangkok, and head toward the rural outskirts of the city. We pass by immaculate portraits of His Royal Higness, Rama IX. With each picture, everyone in the van snaps their cameras. I am tempted to ask if this is necessary. One picture of the King should be enough. Unless you need a shot of him facing left AND right. I brush it aside and put my iPod on full blast.
The minivan stops at a dock with several motorboats. The boats take us down a winding canal, to the Floating Market. We are given a choice: Pay 150 Baht (Roughly $5 US) to board a canoe and have a villager paddle us around while we shop, or pay nothing and sit on a bench for 90 minutes. I pay the 150 Baht. What's five dollars to me right now? This is my first day in a new country. I want to experience Thailand!
After 30 minutes of having my guide lead me past other canoes filled with tourists and merchants, I ask him to take me back. As I sit on the bench, munching on sandwiches that Pinky prepared in the morning, I spot a canoe of tourists, all wearing straw hats purchased minutes before. I sigh. That could have been me in a funny hat. That could have been me purchasing a bushel of mangoes for 100 bucks. That could have been me buying a minature wooden elephant for 50 dollars. I'd be out of money on the first day, but at least I'd be happy...
It's 11 am, and we head to the Elephant Farm. We, again, are given a choice; Pay 600 Baht to ride an elephant through the jungle, pay an extra 150 baht to feed the beast of bunch of bananas, or pay nothing and stand around and have the employees walk up to you and attempt to solicit a 200 Baht donation. I shell out 750 Baht. To ride and feed. What's 25 dollars to me? I want the real Thailand!
The ride takes 30 minutes. The trail is a loop around a paved road, through a mud pit and some trees. Two-thirds of the way, the guide, perched on the elephants neck, reaches behind him and grabs the bananas. He feeds the elephant MY bananas. The bananas that I purchased. MY bananas. I want to yell at the guide, but his back is to me. "Why didn't you let me feed them?" I quietly scream at the back of his head. "I'M supposed to feed him. I didn't come halfway around the world to have somebody deny me the joy having an elephant swipe bananas from my hands. Give me back my bananas, damnit!!"
The guide turns back. "Oh crap, he must have heard me," I think. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a plastic baggie. Inside the baggie are two metallic elephants. I have no idea what they are supposed to be. They look like earrings. They could be cuff links. "200 Baht," The guide says. I stare at him. "I don't know what these are." "150 Baht." He replies. I've had enough. "No, I don't want." The guide makes a motion with his hands. He mimics eating a bowl of rice. I'm guessing this is the universal sign for "I need to eat." I'm tempted to ask, "Why didn't you just take my bananas?" I bite my tongue. I just want off this elephant...
It's 2pm and we pull into the Cobra show. We're tired. The Indian family has put away their cameras and look like they're about to pass out. The minivan driver turns to us. "This show is REALLY good! Cobras! Very scary! 200 Baht!" The Chinese men throw up their hands in disgust.
We're led to an amphitheater, enclosing a large pit. Behind the pit is the stage, where the emcee stands behind a podium. He holds up a faded picture of a man. "A few years ago, this man died." The crowd is silent. An uneasiness fills the air. We are scared out of our wits.
In the middle of the pit stands the cobra handler. He's a scary Thai with a bushy mustache and a snake in his hands. He kisses the cobra. He catches the cobra with his bare hands. He throws the cobra in a cage with a mongoose. He holds the cobra in place and moves into the crowd. He holds it out for us to pet. I pass.
"The cobra has two pennies!" The emcees shouts out of nowhere. I look around. Did anyone else get that? The rest of the crowd can't understand him either. "The cobra has two pennies!" His voice increases. We're confused. A gasp escapes the crowd. The handler has reached for the cobra and unfolded a layer of skin, exposing two bulbous sex organs. A wave of flash bulbs cover the amphitheater.The emcee is not talking about loose change. "The cobra is very, very lucky!" The emcee winks. "The cobra has twice as much fun!" The crowd giggles.
I stare at the two pennies. This is what I wanted to see; Something new. Something exciting. Something that says, "You're in Thailand, damnit. Love it!" I fumble with my camera to get a good shot. By the time I'm ready to shoot, the pennies are gone. I'm sad, but the image has burned itself into memory forever...
It's 6pm, and the minivan has returned to downtown Bangkok. Pinky waits me for me. "How was the tour?? Did you see a lot of things?"
"Yeah...Hey, did you know the cobra has two pennies?"
"What?!"
"Never mind." I sigh. "Man, I'm hungry."
"We'll go out. Maybe we'll find snakes! Hahaha!"
"That would be awesome."
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