Love Hanoi, Hate Yoghurt

A few days before Christmas, I made my way to Hanoi. I admit I was nervous about going, since what I have ever really heard about Vietnam surrounded a gory history from nearly half a century ago. Upon landing, it became very clear that those stories of the country were no longer valid. I was disappointed only in discovering that I had not nearly enough time to explore the area as I had thought, and I’ll have to plan a future trip to fill in all of the gaps I’ve left there.

Let me start with some general things about Hanoi and the area. Generally, the French influence in Hanoi was palpable in the architecture, and a lot of the buildings were old but quite beautiful. The only way I could describe the look of the city is a very old, communist Paris.

Overall Madness: The best way to describe the atmosphere of Hanoi is that it’s NYC on speed. I mean this in the nicest way possible – Hanoi is just extremely energized and bustling at speeds trumping Manhattan pace by a lot. Half of the country’s population owns a motorbike, and it’s clearly felt as they rip through the streets all day and night. There are also 7 million people packed in an ancient city’s streets (Hanoi is a couple thousand years old), squirming around each other to get places. The stores stuff themselves between each other and brim onto the street with their merchandise, and cars/motorbikes take up a lot of the extra space on the road. I was staying in the Old Quarter, which is more packed and chaotic, but also more charming. Outside of the area, though, I would say the overall frenzy was the same, just more spread out on bigger streets. The biggest problem with this madness was the massive pollution everywhere. The air was thick with smog and I found my nostrils polluted.

Post-War Sentiments: I was nervous that the Vietnamese would not appreciate me, an American, visiting their country (I mean, we did kind of mess things up for them in an epic way). I was relieved to discover that the people seem to view it all as water under the bridge. They mention it in their country’s history, of course, since it was a big piece of recent history. But it was described as more of a piece of confusing history where they shrug and say, “Yeah, well, that happened.”

I went to tour the grim Hoa Lo Prison, where Vietnamese were killed and detained by the French, and American POWs were held during the war. The exhibits had a patriotic air to them, and talked of the countrymen’s struggles to be independent of tyrants….but I would feel much more uncomfortable as a French person there than American. The American section was seen almost like we were a silly irritant they tolerated while they struggled with the south area of the country.

With all of this, one odd thing I found there was that John McCain is kind of a big deal there. One tour guide talked about him as if he himself stopped the Vietnam War, and the prison tour had lots of pictures of him during and after being a POW, with his trooper outfits on display nearby. I found it surprising because I was not of the mind that McCain had too much to do with the war as a whole, other than fight in it….but that’s not the image I get of him there.

Christmas: I went to Hanoi for Christmas, thinking that I was going to be the sole celebratory person. How wrong I was. I would venture to say that Vietnamese in Hanoi put most Christian-centric areas of the world to shame with their splendor for the holidays. I went past one street in the Old Quarter with stores swollen with Santa outfits for sale. And people were actually wearing Santa getups in the city for days! Children and men strutted around in full red suits and women dressed as cute reindeer in heels. There were big balloon clusters of snowmen and Santas being floated around and sold throughout the town.

On Christmas Eve, I swear I was in NYC on New Year’s Eve! The streets were congested with so many motorbikes that they couldn’t move around each other. The town was glowing and buzzing with Christmas, and people were making their way to the big Cathedral in town. Curious, I went to the Cathedral with the mob, and found myself in a square where I heard on a speakerphone someone telling a grand story, and a JumboTron in front of the Cathedral broadcasting what was clearly the Story of Christmas (presumably happening in the church). Vietnamese people were there taking pictures smiling in front of the nativity scene and television, though clearly not paying attention to the story being told (I may not be a Christian anymore, but even I was feeling disappointed for the performers’ preoccupied audience). It was all about the celebrations, clearly. Walking back to the hotel, I heard musicians playing carols and restaurants along the area packed with diners and hosting bands playing more holiday tunes.

Funny enough, whenever I wished a Vietnamese a Happy Christmas, they would shy away and say, “Oh, no, we don’t celebrate Christmas here.” Really? I could have sworn you very much did.

More onto the activities of the few days I was there.

My exploring was cut short because within my first 7 hours in the country, I drank a fruit smoothie with yoghurt that was tainted. I had food poisoning and rendered dangerously useless for a day or two. It got to the point where my fever got too high and I could barely stay standing, so I went to a medical clinic – thanks for the tip with that one Tessa! – that hooked me up to an IV drip and shot me up with antibiotics and other great drugs to make me stop getting sick everywhere (meant literally). Fortunately, the hotel I was kind and very worried about my health, bringing me bananas and rice and checking in to see if I was alive throughout the ordeal. Don’t worry, I’m better now – the antibiotics have been strong and helpful.

Because of the great care at the clinic, I was able to make on a tour bus a day after being treated so I could visit the famous UNESCO Site, Ha Long Bay. The drive was three or four hours long with crazy driving (thank you, anti-vomiting meds!), and with a strange pit stop in the middle at an art factory of sorts. Getting to the bay, though, to see just a glimpse of the whole place was totally worth it. I felt spiritually moved with the beauty in Ha Long Bay, and that’s even with it being packed of tourists! The limestone mountains jutting out of the water make a magical atmosphere where we were in a watery paradise that only existed for us, even if for a few hours. In the bay we also went to a cave to see the pretty internal stalactites, which was also a beautiful sight to see for a little while.

I was still dealing with food poisoning and didn’t eat much outside of steamed rice and bananas, but I also heard the food on the tour was great. Our tour guide was a sweet lady who was full of life and pleasant jokes.

I don’t know what else to say about Ha Long Bay, other than it was one of those places I will try to make to again in the future, just to admire the beauty a bit more.

When in Hanoi and not puking my brains out, I toured the city. I walked around the mythical Hoan Kiem Lake and visited the temple on it (Ngoc Son Temple), which is an extremely old reminder of the Chinese influence on the region. And I walked around the Old Quarter to see what kind of other strange shops may exist on different streets. I also visited the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, which was an impressive big box, and ended up meeting an older man named Chien who offered to tour me around the city. Seeing as his name in French translates to my favorite animal in the world (aka dog), I felt it should be fine to join him on his tour of Hanoi. He was a friendly guy who was interested in my family, and shared me stories of his family as well. He showed me as much as he could in a few hours, and was highly concerned that I was going to fall off of his motorcycle at any moment.

Tutting through Hanoi on a motorbike reminded me I was very much in a communist country. Pictures and statues honored hard labor, and the communist flag was flown from most streets we went down.

Chien took me to the Museum of Ethnology, which is a fantastic museum that showcases many of the 54 ethnic tribe Vietnam hosts with exhibits and videos. They also have a tribal house garden, which allows tourists like me to walk around and in houses constructed as if they are meant to be used by specific tribes. I realized about ten years ago in Wales that this was my favorite kind of museum – the exploratory kind that lets me feel what it’s like for a moment to live in a setting like another group of people. I was so happy to find myself in a museum like that in Vietnam. Very well done! He also took me to the Temple of Literature, a millennium-old university. It was a lovely campus, and swarming with tourists, but still peaceful and nice to visit.

On the evening of the 25^th, I bought a ticket to see a water puppet show. This is a very old storytelling method in the area, where they take light wood and paint it into puppets, then perform stories and myths on top of ponds of water. It was a really fun experience, though don’t ask me what most of it was about as it was all in Vietnamese and I somehow missed the pamphlet that translated what was happening. In any case, the puppets were beautiful and seeing such a unique form of storytelling integrating water completely was a real treat for the water-related graduate student in me. It became clear to me how important lakes and rivers are to the history of the people there, and how their lives have revolved around bodies of water in a major way for a long time.

Locals who would interact with me seemed really worried about me being alone while there. I felt safe while walking around (except for my stomach), but I think the locals were more upset about me traveling solo than I could ever have been. Honestly, I was fine. Even on Christmas Day, where I stomached a fancy holiday meal as much as I could, I was happy to be with myself in such an exciting and fun town. 

Northern Laos

I was going to take a bus to Luang Prabang (LP) from Pakse, but the US Embassy kindly requested I avoid the roads between the two towns for a while because of some conflict that had happened near the road. So I took a plane, which meant I would no longer visit Vientiane or Vang Vieng, but instead would stay in LP for almost a week.

Landing the plane in LP was an experience! We had clouds engulfing us, and every once in a while a break from the clouds would happen during the turbulent landing and you’d see sharp mountain peaks stabbing threateningly in the plane’s direction. Clearly, and happily, we landed safely.

I came into LP on a rainy and cold evening. The rain didn’t last during my trip, but the cold stuck to the skin of my formerly-sweaty body for the remaining days. It’s good that the area is so gorgeous, charming, and peaceful, otherwise I would have been weepy the whole time for being cold and poorly insulated.

LP is full of tourists more than the other places I visited, which I grumble about, but the country began to grow on me, and I felt happy to be there. The people are genuinely kind and caring, the views are unbeatable, and there’s a laid back quality of life here that works still, even in modern times. I really enjoyed the overall pace and pretty backdrop for the week.

Something that surprised me about LP was the presence of old bombs everywhere. The US shelled the hell out Laos during the Vietnam War, and the history of bombings is still very clear when walking around LP. If you didn’tknow, hundreds of Laotian people die every year still from old bombs or minesthat haven’t gone off or “been discovered” yet. Most of the nicer restaurants I went to hosted at least one bomb as a sort of a chic décor. Many poorer villages sold in the nightly market shrapnel of bombs that are re-purposed as necklaces and bottle openers. I found it fascinating how the people have taken a bad situation and turned it into scenic relics in LP – making lemonade, I guess.

I went to the obligatory tourist spots while there, of course. Namely, the wats; the whole town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and it beams with temples on nearly every corner. Each temple is different than the others, though they all share a similar architectural layout. One was all red, one was mostly black and gold, while another was all green! I was dazzled.

I also hiked up the large hill in the middle of town, PhousiHill (pronounced “poo-see” – please maintain your maturity); there I saw the panorama of the whole mountainous area, which was stunningly beautiful. The undulating hills were hugged with low-rolling clouds, and I felt like I had been transported to some filming of the LOTR. The Mekong glides around the town’s edge, the clouds doing their things, the looming nearby mountains - everything is beautiful.

I am not much of a shopper, but there are so many beautiful handmade things sold at LP I felt mildly ashamed of my purchasing frenzy all week. The nightly market was a rainbow of beautiful cloths and pictures and assorted useless yet beautiful things that I badly wanted. I bought two scarves and a nice shirt to wear in the heat, as well as some presents (I would have bought more there but I had to remember my weight and size limit for my travels). There was also this super nice store that I loved called Ock Pop Tok with handmade fabrics from local tribes, and I bought a $40 scarf which may very possibly be the nicest piece of clothing I now own.

Food-wise, there were ample fruit shakes made on the sides of the street and lots of coconut tasty snacks being cooked right in front of everyone. There’s a little alleyway in the center of town that at night turns into this giant buffet of meats and noodles and rice and soup and everything you would want to eat while in SE Asia, all for a buck! It was excellent and awesome and oily and gave me stomach problems while I was there. Je regrette rien.

One of the first nights I was there I went to a local Lao folk storytelling show, Garavek. It was fun to listen to local stories from way back when about the local geography and agricultural/fishing lifestyles, and most of them were very strange to me. Stories of giants plucking out eyeballs of sisters to be put back in blows my mind. Others had people dying for love to be turned into mountains while other people harbor magical powers if only for a second without much thought to it….it makes me wonder how people in ancient times came up with these elaborate and complicated stories for a simple mountain.

One day I went to the Kuang Si Waterfall; it is a 30-minute zigzag drive around some hills from LP, and our driver was in a particular rush to get us there; most of us left our bus an unhealthy shade of green. But the waterfall was awesome – the fast rapids on the limestone made the water take a jade blue-green color, and I sat and admired the different areas of the rapids for a while. There were also some cute sun bears lazing in a park near the rapids, but they looked pretty bored to me. After the waterfall, I went to explore a nearby butterfly sanctuary and got lost in the prettiness. There are loads of butterflies in SE Asia for some reason, and the sanctuary did a good job showcasing a few of the local types in a way that seemed happy and peaceful. The sanctuary also had a free, natural fish pond – you know, the fish that nibble/peck at the dead skin on your feet. Yes, I tried it. No, I didn’t really like the feeling. Sure, I’d try it again if it’s hygienic.

The next day I took a (very) long boat ride to the Pak OuCave, also known as the Buddha Cave, since it’s covered in Buddha statues. The cave was cool, albeit crowded, and there was a surprise upper level I liked a bit more because it was quieter and more mysterious/darker. The surroundings of the cave were, again, incredible. We also stopped at a whisky village (where they pickle scorpions and snakes in whisky bottles), and I yucked my way through the tourist trap until we finally got back on the boat to LP.

I also practiced some yoga at a tourist-heavy bar called Utopia, and ate some tasty food in other tucked-away spots. I made some random friends in and around LP, which always feels great and exciting…but I am also starting to get tired of the constant traveling (too bad for me – only half of the way to go!), and it can get lonely for the extrovert in me. Some days I just want to see consistent people and build deep/meaningful friendships over a long period of time, but that is more challenging when you and everyone around you is on the go. I’ve been lucky to make a few friends, I know, and I do love meeting such interesting people from all walks of life…but many days I am with only myself, and my inner extrovert is starting to talk to herself a bit more than I’m comfortable with.

Anyways, after a glorious week of admiring nature and relaxing in a quiet place, I made my way to Hanoi for the holidays.

Southern Laos

My entry into southern Laos was a bit curious. I took a bus from Ubon to Pakse. After four rather confusing hours of stopping at check points and other village stops that remain mysterious to me, we ended up in Pakse.

My introduction into Laos at the border was a sharp contrast from Thailand – on the Thai border, it was very ordered and the road was paved and the air was cool, but I went through the border tunnel and came out onto the Laos side with surprising heat and a large, confusing dirt path to a broken building. That broken building was the customs office.

I paid for my visa on arrival with a team of Europeans, but I was the only one that got interrogated about my visit to Laos. A man came out and pointed to my US passport, sternly (and rather loudly) asking me why I was in Laos. Confused and nervous, I stated truthfully that I was just a tourist visiting Pakse and Luang Prabang. Finally, he handed me my passport with visa (in a bit of a huff). I think there is some old hostility in some of those custom guys.

Reading the Lonely Planet SE Asia guide, I was in denial about its description of Pakse not being much. Once in Pakse, though, I learned to not doubt updated tour guides that much. Pakse is a dusty town, with hotel restaurants and enough foreigners to shake a stick at, but not much past that. Luckily, most of my time in Pakse had to be on a laptop for work and assignments anyways (or waiting around doing my laundry in the sink); I felt better knowing that I was not missing anything when I was isolated in my room for long days.

At the start, Laos did not wow me like I had hoped. I struggled for the first few days, trying to get things to work for me and my job – wifi, phone data, etc. Also, getting ointment for a minor skin infection was frustrating as I bounced between shops (and even ended up in the local hospital for English speakers to translate for me what I needed) with some medical creams precariously stashed in glass cabinets, and buying things for rashes I knew I did not have. With the increased heat and frustrating encounters (where English was even more useless here as it is in Thailand), I was sweaty and tired in a matter of minutes. I was irritated with the systems in Pakse early on, but I kept reminding myself that my travels would bring me to other places.

Being a solo lady traveling in Southern Laos (well, Laos in general), people try to help me out and make sure I’m safe. I found that I easily endeared myself to the people around me by using just a word or two in Lao (or ordering a Lao dish). In restaurants, though, this could backfire and instead they would try to prove to me just how spicy their food can be for local people (level: agonizing). I ended up eating at my hotel a bit, to protect myself from vindictive waiters. Luckily, the hotel manager where I was staying was so impressed with my interest in Lao culture and food that he even made me local meals, including grilled frogs, fermented fish, and eggy rice soup. Every time I ate I would have a group of Laotians surrounding me, in awe of my eating of their local foods. Apparently most “falang” don’t bother trying to eat traditional foods from the region; to me that just sounds like missing half of the fun of travel.

A few days in, I made my way further south to the border of Cambodia to stay in the 4000 Islands, on a little yet popular island called Don Det. Getting there, again, was an adventure, as I sat in a packed 40-year-old bus in the extreme heat with a pile of hippy-backpacker youth types that in discussions seemed more interested in partying on questionable substances than relaxing on a remote island.

After the bus, we trudged through a tired town and got onto some long boats that brought us to the banks of the island, which meant we had to quickly problem solve getting off of the boat (or climbing through several boats next to each other) and hope that our balance would get us to dry land before falling into the river with our belongings.

Off of the boat I was met by some locals selling things and more of the same backpackers casually strolling along. One of the downsides of being there was that it was hard to enjoy being in a foreign country because it felt like an extremely tropical western college town. The island is lined with souvenir shops, tourist agencies, and restaurants that cater to foreign mouths. One of the restaurants played “Friends” nonstop – another played “South Park”. A lot of the town was starting to feel a bit like Cancun spring break, if you catch my drift.

Other than that, Don Det is beautiful, as is the rest of the area. I was surrounded by peacefully rolling water and green little islands dotted the waterways, with looming green hills in the distance.

There is bank erosion on the island, which means there are little haphazard bridges made of wooden planks around the island that you (hopefully successfully) walk or ride over. I tried riding a bike to enjoy more of the island, but the roads were treacherous (cliff-side dirt paths with wooden bridges of death) and full of other bikes/animals/motorcycles/people using the same narrow paths. I became full of anxiety and stopped riding soon into the adventure, and decided to relax on the island for my stay. Instead, I’d focus on naps and sunset boat rides.

I got to make some new friends! which is most excellent for the traveling social extrovert I am. I met two Germans on my first night, and we sat in a restaurant having fun talking about foreign policy and academics. They are studying in Bangkok, and helped me understand more of the region than I had known before. I also ended up making good friends with a guy from Belgium (Belgian Elkana), who I get along with famously, and he became my southern Lao travel buddy for a few days. He has traveled through the region quite a bit, as well, and has given me a lot more insights into the culture and quirks of SE Asian travel since we met. We also talked about other things, like life and death and society and other light subjects. He’s great, you should meet him.

I wish I had stayed longer in Don Det, but I had things to do in Pakse (namely, work) and my relaxing and sweltering holiday in the islands came to a swift end.

Fortunately, I had one place to tour when I was back in Pakse – the Wat Phou in Champasack a little further south of the city. Wat Phou means it’s a temple of some sort situated by some natural area like a mountain or trees, I believe. I was told it was a good taster for the beginning of my Khmer Wat visits, and I am glad to hear that as it was enchanting. I met up with travel buddy Belgian Elkana, and we explored the beautiful and hilly area around an ancient temple that predates the Angkor Wat in Cambodia. The ruins were grand and elegant. The only problem was my fear of heights and the Khmer architecture’s sagging steps up a steep hill to the Wat. Luckily Elkana helped me down the stairs as I whimpered and paced like a puppy going down stairs.

After a week of travel and working, I got myself to the tiny airport and made my way to northern Laos, in Luang Prabang.

Learning in Isan

After Bangkok, my classmates and I took planes to the Northeast region of Thailand – Isan – in a city called Ubon Ratchathani. There, we loaded up some buses and drove off to a rural village (Baan Kor Tai); there we would live for 1.5 weeks.

An hour out of town, we began driving into dustier and sleepier communities before we finally slowed down and parked in our one-street village. We unloaded and got divided into our homestays throughout the small community of 150 houses.

The first word I can think of to describe the village is rustic. The dirt path led us to houses on stilts, slatted with wooden planks for walls. Some houses were made of concrete bricks, but where I stayed was more of the wooden type with open walls serving as ventilation and windows. Our kitchen consisted of a small charcoal stove, and our bathroom had a scoop bowl in a water storage basin we used for everything next to the squat toilet we patiently used without toilet paper. (As a side note, I’m currently nursing a wound from slipping off of that squat toilet and ripping my skin open on the brick wall. Leave it to me to get injured by a toilet!) We walked through mud and dirt and other natural litter on the ground, in flip flops. Some of our walks were impressively long and dusty. By the end of our visit, my feet were caked in dirt and my nail polish had gone from bright pink to dark brown.

The second word I can think of to describe the village is delicious. Each of our maes (“mother”) knew how to cook us a feast three times a day, and each time we were stuffed to the gills with treats I cannot figure out how to make nor describe. While the food was often eclectic for our mostly-Western taste buds – cricket soup, grilled fish chips, stuffed frogs – our class complained about gaining a lot of weight from the trip because the food was so amazingly tasty. I really enjoyed each and every meal we shared with our family, and I still think about this egg dish our mae made (“Son-in-law eggs”) because it might have changed a little part of my personality for the better. There was a lot of sugar in our foods, too….but…it was so good!

The third word I can think of for the village was wonderful. The community members were some of the warmest most genuine people I’ve ever met. Our mae was a quiet woman, but happily answered any wild questions my roommate (Kenyan Jackie) and I could think of. She was concerned about me when I got heat exhaustion from the 90F+ tempeatures, and laughed when I would try to (mis)pronounce words to her in the local dialect. She was so sweet with me, even though she couldn’t completely talk with me. Also, the other community members always smiled at our class members, and fully laughed with us, even when we barely did anything interesting. They welcomed us into their homes, they shared what little they had, and always made sure we were comfortable. I now consider the village a place I wouldn’t mind visiting in the future, just to see the people again.

Our class was an intensive learning course; we woke up early every day and started our learning process by 8:30am at the latest, and ended around 6pm as the sun set. We went on epic walks under the harsh sunlight, and visited rice fields to learn about the way of the farmers in the community. We rested on boats along the Mun River (situated in the village) and talked to fishermen about fishing and how it is impacted by the development of dams (specifically, the controversial Pak Mun Dam). We interviewed Buddhist monks about Buddhism and visited forest temples. We chatted to women about the roles of village women and menstrual hygiene. We observed children singing at school to impress the falang ("foreigners") observing them.

I personally got to experience the care of health volunteers in the village – essentially basic healthcare workers who help with basic community health before a hospital is needed – to make sure I didn’t need medical help for my body’s poor response to extreme temperatures. Most days were steaming hot, and we all felt it to some level. I think I reacted very poorly to it – I guzzled water and got intense headaches from the heat. I also had blood pressure problems because of the incredible heat (I’m fine now, don’t worry). But it didn’t lessen from the rich experience we were getting in the village.

How did we talk to the villagers, if we didn’t speak Thai/Isan/Lao? Our teacher from the local university, Ajan Kanokwan, and a handful of translators who came and lived with us to translate each and every sentence said while in that village. I cannot imagine how hard it must be to go between three languages like they had to for us to get points across. My translator was Rose – a spunky yet patient lady doing her PhD on prostitution in the Ubon area. I admire her because while we got to take breaks in conversation because of the gap of language, she was going between our mae and us constantly, explaining and translating stuff for everyone every waking hour. She was also a great teacher, as I am an insatiable student and insisted on learning some of the local language while I was around her. I pointed to everything and asked for its local name, repeating words like a toddler learning how to talk. She graciously humored my interests in language, and we would have deep, rewarding conversations about life and cultural differences when she wasn’t busy exchanging words to our mae for us. She’s great – I wish you could meet her.

The other translators were fantastic, too! Rose had to sleep next to me and listen to me get up for the toilet ever night, and she deserves special appreciation having to put up with me nonstop for so long. Gai, one of the other translators, was like the class cheerleader – he would pep us all up before an interview and lecture, easily making the flow of conversation seamless. Tuan, also, was patiently listening to everything said and filled in the crucial gaps that would happen in others’ translations. Ploi was putting together our interviews behind the scenes, and taking pictures for our memories. Seth was the comedy relief who would also explain to us how to ask culturally-appropriate questions, and Ing was the sweet yet sassy companion that helped us get a hold of children for interviewing. Our translators, for the whole class, were a perfect group of people, and I am so glad they chose to help us and put their lives on hold to give us communication.

If you’re curious, we were doing interviews partly for a general assignment we have on how the community develops in several ways, and how water plays a part in that development. We also were interviewing for a presentation on a specific topic we had to put together before leaving the area. My team’s topic was on community hygiene, and I was impressed by how much material we got out of the community in such a short time span. I never would have thought that trash management would be such a crucial part of domestic hygiene for the village, but everyone mentioned that before they got trash bins, flies were everywhere and people got sick a lot faster. We also talked about water hygiene, food hygiene (they clean their vegetables), and handwashing (the older guys are not good at it).

We had a day off somewhere in the middle, too. Well, by day off I mean we got out of town and went site-seeing all day long. We went to where the Mun River meets the Mekong by the border of Laos (Khon Chiam?), and saw that the convergence of the rivers looks like two different colors mixing together. We went to Pha Taem National Park and hiked under the sweltering sun to see some ancient cave paintings on the walls, and beautiful views of the hillside. We visited the 3000 Holes, where rapids during the dry season are climb-able. We ended the day with eating on the water some traditional meals (Larb, fish soup, sticky rice, omelets…). The day, sadly, was too hot, and we paid for our outside excursions the next day with more heat-related stomach aches and headaches.

Our last day came as a surprise to us. We were all wondering if we’d make it through the week in simple living, but when the day arrived, we felt like it was too short of a visit. The village had prepared a Buddhist ceremony for us – phuk siao. The ceremony was a way to bind our souls to the villagers’ souls, and keep us connected spiritually. In some ways, it was also a way to tie us souls to our Thai “homes”. It was a beautiful and humble ceremony, with an altar and singing, and the tying of strings on our wrists while village members individually gave each of my classmates and I unique blessings. The whole ceremony was moving, and I wept quietly through most of it (I was not alone in the crying though!). For me, I hadn’t realize how much of my heart I had given to the people in the village until they performed that ceremony, and I felt a bit heartbroken that I was leaving them. I haven’t taken off the strings yet.

After our village experience, we stayed in Ubon for a few days and ate lots of food at the town’s night market, got massages while local women howled with laughter when we tried to say some things in Isan to them, and relished drinks on the Mun River before we left the area. I personally felt a lot of loss, since it was the beginning of my solo journey throughout Southeast Asia, and I won’t see my classmates that I love like family for months.

But now I’m in Laos with other journeys to share later.

Some Nights in Bangkok

It has been a while since I was in Bangkok, but bear with a very long summary about a few days in Bangkok.

I landed in Bangkok late at night, and quickly got into a cab to Peruvian Lorena’s place. Lorena is doing some work in Bangkok, and she generously offered me to stay with her while I was in town. It was fantastic to catch up with an old friend, and celebrate nine years of our adventurous traveling friendship. We laughed a lot, and talked about all kinds of things, big and small.

The first full day in Bangkok I felt the punch of humid heat again. I have learned my lesson; Southeast Asia is hot! And, as a result, is covered with indoor malls.

Along with the heat, I was overwhelmed with the intensity of Bangkok. Bangkok has a lot of everything (i.e. buildings, people, shops, and cars) and pulses with advertisements (both video and print) that felt like having my brain being pulled like taffy. There is an air of excessiveness that comes with the commercials and inside the malls. Luckily, I forged through the city to discover its vibe, and gratefully bought copious amounts of delicious iced juices from the street corners. It was awesome!

I started the day by going to the Dusit Palace and admire its decadence– mesmerizing beetle wings covered chairs and gold-gilded table pieces decorated the building. Intricately-woven tapestries dazzled the walls. My eyes drank in a lot of things there, but sadly I couldn’t take pictures inside, so it’s hard to describe all that I saw.

Experiencing Bangkok, starting at the palaces, I had two surprises.

One of the surprises I had was realizing I could not walk into many places with my normal tee-shirt and jeans ensemble with a travel bag. I was ping-ponged between buildings and told to put different belongings in lockers in two separate locations. I finally understood that there was a strict dress code, for women: I had to wear a long skirt in order to go inside. I mulled this over for perhaps 30 minutes, confused and overheated. I finally broke down and bought the 50 Baht (US$1.40) sarong they had for sale in the gift shop, wrapped up my legs, and journeyed towards the security line. Happily, the sarong is great quality and is now functioning as pajamas.

The other surprise I had while in Bangkok (and first noticed at the palace) was the shocking number of Chinese tourists everywhere. This was not really a good thing, as Chinese tourists seem to typically come in tour groups by the busloads and have little respect for personal space and museum etiquette. I was jostled and pushed around by hundreds at the tourist sites, and felt suffocated while trying to get through. There were signs in several languages insisting on silence while at the palace, specifically, though they did not much seem to care for that rule and the palace roared with conversation. It was frustrating, to say the least.

After the adventure at the palace, I went to the MBK center (it’s huge - 6 floors I think!) for some headphones and a peek at souvenirs. I waited for Lorena with a matcha green tea ice cream float; it was so delicious I realized that I would like Bangkok just fine.

The allegations of food in Thailand being incredibly delicious are all true. It’s often extremely spicy, but many times the level of heat I endured was my own (silly) doing. The diverse food that line the streets are amazing (and super cheap), and the restaurant food tastes like joy. I did not have very many times I didn’t like the food I was eating while in Thailand.

Lorena and I met up and got a massage. At this point, it became clear to me that English would not get me very far in Thailand. Most people don’t speak a lot of English, if any, and it’s more helpful to pick up some of the Thai/Isan that is spoken in the area. I learned this because my massage was great and thorough – a bit too thorough for my sensitive self. I cringed and clutched onto the bed while thinking to myself how it was a great time to learn phrases like “please be much lighter I’m sensitive” and “I have an injury there!” Instead, I yelped and whimpered loud enough for the lady to stop and reconsider her strength a few times. But it was still a great way to help my swollen travel ankles recuperate.

The second day I worked for a while in a coffee shop called MyCoffee. There, I was distracted by a pet fox licking ice in the back of the café that was fluffy and pitifully adorable. I also went to another mall further out of town called JJ Mall. There, I was trying to find some cotton pants my size. This has proven to be a horrible area of the world for big people with big hips (aka me) to find clothing that fits them. Shopkeepers would look at my backside and just shake their heads dramatically, giving me the impression that they’d never seen anyone like me before.

I also saw an outdoor market that sold fish (both pet and edible) in rows of plastic bags outside, next to bags of living crickets (for eating), next to other strange shops full of peculiar finds. I felt stunned to go through the market, and felt kind of bad for all of the fish.

At night Lorena and I took a boat to Asiatique (which is like a night market/mall that has anything you could ever dream of eating or buying) to enjoy the sacred Loy Krathong Festival. During Loy Krathong, people give offerings to the goddess of water at the end of the rainy season to thank her and apologize for polluting the rivers and lakes. It’s also seen as a purification ceremony for some. Overall, it was bright and a lot of fun. It felt a bit like being in Times Square on New Year’s Eve with all of the people tightly packed in the area, but there was music and food everywhere to easily enjoy. I had bought Lorena and me a krathong offering, and we participated in the ceremony; I think the goddess heard us, as it started to pour soon after we offered our krathong.

In the third day I took a long tail boat on the river that went to the Grand Palace. The boat ride was harrowing; as it literally flew in the air and crashed back into the river, I wondered whether I had made a horrible foreigner choice taking the questionable boat to the site. I made it out alive, and that’s all that matters now.

The Grand Palace was, of course, loaded with the aforementioned tourists, but I was impressed with the beauty of the palace grounds and the intricate designs on the buildings around me. I couldn’t stay long because of the crowds and toxic heat, but I am glad I got to see it for a little bit.

Nearby is the Wat Pho with the big Reclining Buddha, and I went over to see the temple for a while and relax in some shade. It was gorgeous, and I felt like I could have stayed there for days in its peaceful fortress. There weren’t many tourists there when I went to visit, which was a relief, so I took my time loving every sculpture and spire. I have been trying to show respect to Buddha while in Southeast Asia, and I went in to pray a few times in some of the rooms. One time I felt like I was having a real connection with Buddha – either due to the intense heat or an actual connection with the Buddha – which blew my mind for a while.

Afterwards, I hid from the heat in anther mall (Terminal 21) and waited for a friend - Counselling Roshni – to meet up with me for dinner. She is from Bangkok, and I was looking forward to hearing some more context from a local about this amazing city. Once the sun went down, we walked around the central area and she explained to me things, such as that the homeless people there are run by the mafia, which is why one should not tip them. I was shocked.

We ended up eating at a restaurant called Cabbage & Condom, which is a restaurant that advocates safe sex in a big way. It was founded by a guy who wanted to help Thailand manage its concerning population rate and a national AIDS epidemic through advocacy and education. The restaurant is part-workforce development and advocacy, and I think it does its job well. The decorations and lamps are covered in condoms, and after eating a great meal with Roshni they gave us condoms to take home. I really recommend the place.

On my last day in Bangkok before going to Isan/Ubon for class, I woke up early for a cooking class, called Cooking with Poo! The woman’s name is Cham poo, which means rose apple, but her nickname has gotten her some global popularity. Knowing my passion for sanitation and food, Roshni recommended the class; seeing the title of the class, of course I signed up. It started by walking through one of the local markets that is mostly for locals, which means it wasn’t all cleaned up and sterilized like many tourist places can be. Instead, we saw the dirty and grimey and fascinating face of Bangkok that I don’t think many get to see so clearly. In the market, we saw filleted and stuffed frogs, all kinds of edible insects, boiled chicken feet, and an array of fruits and vegetables I’ve never heard of! They warned us that some of us might be disturbed by what we saw, but I found I was more impressed and captivated than anything!

We ended up at Poo’s home in a poorer community, where she taught us how to make simple yet tasty Thai food, such as pork larb, thom ka soup, and garlic chicken. The cooking space was colored with fun colors and I bonded with some of the older British students there. Poo also made us her mango sticky rice, which may have actually changed my life to a certain amount (I can’t express how delicious it was!).

After the epic cooking class, I met up with some fellow classmates who arrived to Bangkok for our intensive in Ubon the next day. We went to a riverside hotel for drinks and headed out for dinner at Asiatique. It was a lovely way to finish a memorable few days in Bangkok. I look forward to returning in a month.

Layover in Kuala Lumpur

So much is happening! But I have such little time to write everything down.

Sunday night I got on a flight and took a red eye to SE Asia. My intention was to sleep on the plane the entire time; my neighbors, however, drank enough alcohol to supply a college dorm floor and were not eager to permit my rest. By the time the flight ended I was deliriously tired.

On Monday I had a 15-hour layover in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, so of course I left the airport to explore the city, despite my depleted energy.

My flight landed at 4:30am, so it was dark out and nothing was open for a few hours while I confusedly tried to get my bearings in the big city. Needless to say, the first few hours were quiet and not terribly eventful while I nervously waited for the sun to show itself and give me an idea of where on earth my exhausted body was.

When the sun lifted, it was beautiful. But, with the sun came an oppressive heat that was further weighted with humidity. I have to admit that I will remember Kuala Lumpur by its immense heat. Malaysian Denise mentioned how intense it can be there, but for some silly reason I didn't understand her fully, until now. I am a fool.

When the sun came up and the city began to wake up, I started to hunt for food joints. By the Petronas Towers, I found an outdoor Indian-influenced restaurant called Pelita. After hungrily wandering the restaurant with a pathetic face, the servers compassionately sat me down and brought me a masala dosa that was fantastic.

I walked around KLCC for a little bit in the heat and admired the Petronas Towers, which really are impressive in person.

I also took the train to Pasar Seni - the Chinatown area of the city that hosts a popular Central Market. It was still very early, but I managed to explore the area's temples and appreciate the early morning smells of the market. I went to an old Hindu temple and quietly breathed for a few minutes in the open space. I then shuttled over to the nearby Sze Ya Temple, and grounded myself a little bit in its earthy building smelling of gentle incense. One of my favorite parts of travel is going to temples and relishing the spiritual areas - thin places - of the region.

I also looked at the architecture of the buildings in the area. There's clearly a Moorish influence on some of the designs, with minarets and intricate wall designs.

Later in the day, I went back to the center of town. Under the Petronas Towers in KLCC is a massive multi-storied mall called Suria KLCC that hosts fancy shops and a large food court full of local food. The mall is overwhelming, especially for me since I don't shop much and get over-stimulated easily. I understand why they have such large malls, though - the debilitating heat gave me a lot of motivation to stay indoors in the air conditioned shops for the day.

Denise's boyfriend, Taya, met me in the towers for lunch. Having a nice conversation with Taya over delicious nasi lemak fueled me for the rest of my trip to Thailand later on. He walked me around the mall and outside park and educated me on some cultural nuances in Malaysia. I shared my appreciation by buying him a cookie.

In a country that is predominantly Muslim (61.3%), I was surprised to see Christmas vibrantly displayed in the malls. Taya explained to me that it was Malaysia's way of recognizing and appreciating its diversity in the country. A bit more than 9% of the population is Christian, after all.

The overall feeling I got of KL was a big, bustling city where you can hide in cooler areas while the weather slays ignorant tourists. But I may have felt something a bit strict about the city. I am not entirely sure what I mean, but I felt something there I'd like to understand more.

Now I'm in Thailand! More on that later.

A Sydney Affair

Dad came and visited me last week for a (very) short stay. It was great to see him, as I've been missing family for a little bit, and we got to catch up over a few days.

We met up at the airport in Sydney after his long flight, and my hour-long jump, and made our way to the harbor.

We got to explore Sydney for a day or two together. I will say, despite seeing a limited portion of the city and not having a lot of time to explore, I really liked Sydney. It was vibrant and pretty, though it was a brief love affair. I felt like there were some hidden gems on the waterfront that I will hopefully get to see more on another visit.

I decided that Melbourne is a bit like the downtown of Manhattan (maybe a bit of Brooklyn too) in the sense that it is a lot of culture and food. Sydney, on the other hand, is more like uptown Manhattan - from 14th street up; it was crisp yet romantic.

My friend Esther and her partner met up with us as well and they ushered us around the city. It was so nice to have some people who actually know the city guide us along for a day. Also, they are both fantastic people, so their company with us was perfect for our daylong adventure.

We ate some fish & chips on the harbor and started our tour of the area on a cruise for a few hours. We took in the harbor area and admired the cliffs near Manly, as well as the expensive houses in nearby suburbs on the coast. The harbor really is lovely - I think it's great that Sydney is on the water, and the Sydney Opera House is as impressive in person as it seemed to me in pictures. It also helped that we had a beautiful day with barely a cloud in the sky. We didn't stop at the beaches because I wanted Dad to be able to relish the beaches in Queensland, and we barely had time to sit down and breathe while we ran around the city.

We wandered slowly through The Rocks, which was an adorable old area, despite having a pretty soiled history. We grabbed some drinks and ambled around a little while before stopping in for dinner at The Argyle, a fun outdoor bar area tucked away from the main streets.

One again in Australia, I was charmed by a harbor city.

We also got dressed up for a play at the Opera House. It was funny for me to realize how some of my impatience comes from being my dad's daughter - he was anxious that we weren't at the theater 45 minutes in advance! I have let my impatience melt away somewhat here, as I learned that it was a futile exercise in a country where everything is remarkably laid back.

We saw "Orlando" by Virginia Woolf, and I liked it a lot! Poor jet-lagged Dad passed out during the play, but I was captivated by a curious plot of someone who survived hundreds of years and changed sexes in the middle somewhere.  In some ways, it was the perfect play for me to see, as it was about learning how to understand and accept oneself while the world around them shifts and evolves.

The next day we went on one of those silly double-decker buses that tour cities for tourists with little time to explore - my idea! Our ride along the main drag of Sydney was interesting and I thought Hyde Park was great! I just wish I had had more time to get off of the bus and go a little deeper in some of the cuter areas, like Kings Cross.

Dad was anxious to get to the airport early for our flights to Brisbane, so our adventure of Sydney was cut short, and I ended up intimately acquainting myself with the insides of the domestic terminal for a few hours while I waited to fly back to Queensland. Now that I've got a taste for Sydney, though, I hope to go back and learn more about it in the future.

But, for now, there are other, further, more exotic adventures to be had. Starting tomorrow night!

The Accent That Never Was

I've been in Australia for a bit under nine months. Normally, when I live abroad, it takes a couple months (three or four) before I can start picking up how to speak like a local. In London, after a while I could confuse locals with my British lilt and pronunciation of "schedule". In Paris, I learned how to say certain words quickly with a Parisian accent, so as to avoid head spins in local shops.

By now I had expected to be speaking with a curly Outback drawl and abandoning the hard "r" and use of the word "afternoon" (Aussies read this as "arvo").

This time, though, I can't for the life of me get the accent.

While I hang out with locals and practice the accent (by obnoxiously repeating everything they say under my breath), I sound like an American doing a horrible job at a British accent. Sometimes, I start channeling several different types of Aussie accents with snippets of words in my otherwise very General American Accent.

What is frustrating about not acing the accent is that whenever I'm in public interacting with strangers, it becomes obvious I'm not from here. This means that, more often than not, the Aussie talking with me will pause somewhere in the exchange (whether it's ordering a smoothie, attending a yoga class, or networking) and ask me, "So, what are you here for exactly? Are you from Canada or USA?"

With an infuriatingly perfect Aussie accent!

On a side note: It is seen as polite to always ask Canada before considering a US passport, because Canadians can get sorely offended to be asked if they're American.

This exchange always takes some wind of of my sails because it reminds me of my temporary status. It also reminds me of my incredible failure at assimilating through adjusting my accent, something at which I'm normally so good.

And yet all Aussies I've met have nailed an American accent effortlessly, which only adds to my fury. They attribute it to Hollywood. I'm still not pleased.

For one thing, American voices are just plain loud, so compared to the more breathy accents of Australians, my voice nicely echos off of the buildings in the nearby suburb. We audibly stick out, and sometimes that is not what I'm going for.

Another thing is, I don't think my brain has been able to completely discern between the soft, mumbled accent of a Queenslander (where I am studying) to the more harsh twangs of a Victorian or New South Wales person. And bogan accents (aka hicks) are the ones I understand the best because of my watching of Kath & Kim when I was sick a few months ago. The accents here by region are subtle, yet noticeable after living here a while, and I still don't fully understand how to tease each separate type apart from the others.

I just saw an article come out about how the Aussie accent(s) first came to be. It says that it could stem from the early settlers being avid imbibers of alcohol, and their British accents got drawled out and warped by their drunkenness. I admit, this makes me feel better, as I reason that my decent British accent has not been able to develop into the complicated Australian one because I am not one who enjoys the spiked beverage very often, and therefore have little understanding of how to shift the "r" sound from regal to rough.

Maybe I will never be able to accomplish the Australian drawl. For now, I keep my conversations brief and end with a "Ta!" (which means "thanks"), mumbling as much as I can when asked for my order before running away.

The Australian accent is really difficult.

Holiday Surprises, Already

I was at the post office a few days ago mailing my passport off to the Vietnamese Embassy (more on that later) when I saw some odd holiday material staring at me in a basket. Christmas-related material.

There were two things that disturbed me about this encounter:
(1) It's October.
(2) It was a wombat wrapped in a wreath of ivy and poinsettias (I wish I had gotten a picture).

Let me start with the first disturbing thing; being that it's October, I had expected another, more festive holiday to appear in card stocks and decorations around. I mean Halloween. What I mean is, Australia is not about Halloween, really.

As an American, Halloween is a very important part of my holiday kick-off celebrations. In a way, it is what staves off December-related holidays for a while longer - it's the bread crumble that lures us to the holiday season with excitement.

And I love Halloween. I know some people see it as a capitalistic ploy to drug ourselves with sugar and buy things we don't need. But, for me, I see it as a holiday where I get to celebrate imagination and explore other-worldly realities without being considered a morbid occultist. I love watching Hocus Pocus while eating witches hats. As a kid, I loved going to school Halloween festivals to bob for apples, eat popcorn hands, and listen to the music alternating between "The Monster Mash" and "Thriller". It's a brief holiday that encourages people to get outside of their comfort zone and socialize with each other, maybe bonding over different topics drinking (let's say for example) a punch of ghoulish origins.

But Aussies are not keen on Halloween, and decorations are sparse. It does have a small following in pockets here and there, but I have found myself sitting in my room alone listening to YouTube Playlists of Halloween favorites while trying to find excuses to bake and share witches hats. This year I will have to miss the Halloween magic, sadly.

And I have so many costume ideas in my head!

Anyways, back to the issue of holidays cards two months in advance...

The second part of what bothered me was the poor wombat. Normally, in the Northern Hemisphere, that picture wouldn't bother me that much because it is getting colder, and kangaroos swaddled in red stockings would look comforting and appealing as I start bundling up.

But here, we are going into summer. I have been starting to sweat while standing outside in the shade. Thinking of a wombat surrounded by winter flora as I glistened in the warm post office seemed alarming to me. The Aussie animals wintry holiday stockings and sweaters in the other cards made me feel very sorry for the poor things being suffocated in warm attire. 

I asked Kylie about this, and she mentioned that there is a kind of romantic lure to the frigid winters around the holidays - perhaps the Aussies crave to be snowed on during the holidays, since the northern media have a stronghold on holiday movies and shows. They've grown up seeing us in ugly sweaters and turtlenecks, surrounding by a fire. Conversely, they are peeling off what few layers they have here so as not to melt into a puddle with the brewing heat.

I knew these things before coming here, too. I knew that Halloween wasn't celebrated as much in Australia. And I understood that the holidays would be during sweltering summer heat. I guess I didn't fully grasp what that would mean (or feel like) until I've started to be in it, now. And now that it's here, I am realizing how important this time of the year is to my memory bank, with the cool weather and celebratory atmosphere. I admit, I miss this part of the US right now (but that does not mean I miss the cold).

Fortunately, I plan on being in Vietnam for Xmas, so I shouldn't die from heat exhaustion.

Tasmania Mania

I just had my Spring Break 2015 trip with some friends!  

While many college-enrolled students would go somewhere they can relish in week-long debauchery, my friends and I had a different idea for our holiday - we went to Tasmania! No, not Tanzania. Tasmania, the little island off the southern coast of Australia, where the Tasmanian Devils originate. Tasmania is not known for its crazy nightlife – it’s known for its nature.

Five of us water ladies booked a six-day adventure through the island’s key natural destinations. We landed in Hobart, hopped into an intimately-sized car, and drove into the wilderness. I did not really keep track of the agenda for our trip, as I felt Colorado Meg and Malaysian Densie had already thought things through, so I essentially arrived at the airport on time, and followed them for much of the trip. I think Indian Pritha & Nepalese Niru may have had the same strategy as me on the trip.

I was a bit nervous about our trip. Five women together in a small car driving through the quiet hinterlands of Tassie sounded like it could very well become a chaos of tears and rage. Happily, we had a great time all around, and no one emerged maimed from the adventure.

My overall perception of Tasmania was one of pure, clean nature. The air was crisp and fresh and the temperature was brisk (though it did get cold with the Arctic winds blowing in). The landscape rolled with hills and mountains, and the greens that painted the earth was always incredible. Farms filled with sheep, cows, and Shetland Ponies guided us on each road. There was wildlife everywhere - sadly, that also means we met a lot of roadkill. The people were pleasant and helpful, as well as quiet like their island, as if the whole area was sitting in a constant Zen meditation while we journeyed around.

My biggest complaint about Tassie is not much of a complaint. While my friends were able to eat anything and feasted on decadent (at least I think) meals, my burden of gluten-free eating meant that all of my meals ended up being much healthier. For example, whenever they got fish and chips, my option was to get a salad with grilled fish on top. The downside is I did not get to enjoy some really rich food – the upside is that I did not feel gross by the end of the trip.

Okay, and the other complaint I have about Tassie is that the hole in the ozone layer lies just above the island. Which means I am currently a bright lobster red color all over my nose/chest/neck/ears. Reminder to self: never, ever!, leave the house without SPF on every inch of skin.

Day 1

We drove for a few hours on arrival and spent our first night in the Freycinet National Park so we could see Wineglass Bay in the morning. Freycinet is on the east coast and takes a bit of a drive through nowhere to get there. Not having expected just how remote our drive would be, we did not pick up anything to eat before getting in the car at lunch time, which means we had five rather hangry women hunting for food options on our scenic drive through the hilly lands. We grabbed fish and chips by a beach.

Once we arrived at our tree-laden cabin grounds, we realized our evening would be us keeping each other company and have a ladies’ night of wine and conversation….if only we could find a place to buy food and wine! Fortunately, the cabin area had a little country store, where we stocked up on cheese, wine, and crackers for our evening chatter.

Day 2

We woke up early in the morning to frosted windowpanes and got ready to hike Wineglass Bay. We arrived at the parking lot and got greeted by some very precocious wallabies (even one had a baby in her pouch!!), and we spent a good half-hour capturing their fluffy goodness as much as possible.

Then we hiked. Meg and Denise had been prepared for an intense and steep hike – the other three of us (Pritha – Niru – me) were thinking it would be a pleasant hike up and down a gentle hill to see the beach. We were wrong. We heaved and hyperventilated as we hauled ourselves over the rocky terrain and steep levels for a while before making it to a lookout. My fear of heights were probably the hardest part for me, as it slows me down significantly. I am glad that the others were sympathetic to my irrational whines.

I was thrilled to see that Wineglass Bay is just as beautiful in reality as it is in photographs. The white beach with the vibrant blues of the water, hugged with some elegant hills on three sides, was simply gorgeous. We decided to go down to the beach and frolic; this meant, for “us slow ones”, that we would have to struggle down the stairs for a while longer (and then back up). Once we got down to the beach, we enjoyed the freezing waters and wandered around the sand barefoot for a while before we braved the steep slope once more.

After our successful morning with wallabies and wineglasses, we drove to Hobart for an evening rest.

I really loved Hobart. We were not there nearly long enough to enjoy it, but the atmosphere of the town and the design of the older buildings charmed me completely. It is a town that revolves around the harbor, and the social scene circles the pier’s old landmarks with lots of hip bars and restaurants that stay awake into the late evening. It reminded me a lot of Newburyport in Massachusetts, only with more people – or Reykjavik or Oslo, in its character and layout. Its thick river weaves through the city, while hills full of houses lurk on both sides of the beds. I was so charmed. It was the kind of town I could see myself living in happily when my hair is grey and I need to have a quieter existence for a while.

We walked around the pier for a few hours, ate some dinner, and got some pretty flawless desserts at the aptly-named Honey Badger Dessert Café. We went back to our adorable hostel, Montecute, and hung out with the hostel’s enthusiastic puppy while we figured out what to do in the city the following day.

Day 3

The hostel owner strongly encouraged us to go to the MONA – The Museum of Old and New Art. It’s one of the linchpins to Tasmania’s economy, and is run by some filthy rich gambling dude who likes to collect art about sex and death. The museum is situated on a beautiful vineyard just outside of the city that gives great scenic views. The artwork inside is stuff that I like (odd – esoteric – abstract), but I know that it was a bit too much for some of the other people there. My favorite exhibit was the Digestion Machine (I called it the Poo Machine), which imitated the entire digestion tract with real food so you could see what your insides look like. It was so neat!!!

I also liked these two exhibits that were showing:

• Mathieu Briand's "Et In Libertalia Ego"
• Candice Breitz's "QUEEN (A Portrait of Madonna)"

After a successful wander through the museum, we packed ourselves back into the car and drove five hours to Cradle Mountain National Park. We got another cabin in the woods and bought some food to make dinner and hide from the freezing cold outside in the alpine area with some television.

Day 4

In the morning we hiked Cradle Mountain – well, Meg and Denise woke up earlier to hike the whole mountain for eight hours, while the rest of us decided to have a much less intense three-hour hike. Even so, the hike was not one for wheelchairs; we panted and crawled up some pretty precarious areas for a good amount of our hike. Truthfully, I’m not even really sure how some of the hike could be considered legitimate trails because they seemed so difficult to find and manage. However, it was a more forgiving trail than the one at Wineglass Bay. We got to run into some wild wombats and wallabies on the way up (to which I exclaimed I could be smote by lightening on the spot and be happy). We saw some beautiful backdrops of lakes and forested hills, and got to rest by a waterfall on the way up. We met some pretty nice people while hiking, as well.

Cradle Mountain, I think, would have been just as good for me if I didn’t hike up it because the view of the mountain peaks from the lower-level lakes were my favorite part. Maybe I am too much of a city girl, in that sense...but I think my favorite part about mountains is looking up at them, not looking down from them.

After we all finished the hike and met back up, we went to Devils @ Cradle for a night feeding tour of the Tasmanian Devils. There, we got to learn about these strange-looking animals and listen to them as they screeched and howled at each other. We enjoyed attempting their noises, and I personally found them to be more endearing once I learned more about them than before – they are cute because they’re kind of ugly, like pugs. And they have some horrible social skills, which make them endearing.

Day 5

We drove off to Launceston for our final night in Tassie before our flight out there. First we stopped off at Devonport to see if there was anything there to admire (there was a lighthouse, but that was about it). When we arrived at Launceston, I was startled by the stake difference between this town and Hobart – Hobart charmed the pants off of me, while Launceston felt like a more quiet, less charming town. It was a nice town, and I liked it fine…I just much preferred Hobart.

We went to the very pretty City Park and studied some Japanese Macaque Monkeys that lived there in an enclosure surrounded by flowers, which admittedly confused me a lot (why where there macaques in Tassie?!). We got some dinner, but the city on a Saturday night was all but completely shut down and deserted for a footy game. We luckily found an indoor crazy golf center and spent our final night teaching each other put-put skills and chuckling over the strange outcome of our last night.

Day 6

Our flight was in the early evening, so we had a lot of time to kill before leaving. The town is pretty small, though, and we had scaled the CBD area pretty thoroughly the day before. We decided to visit the Cataract Gorge just on the skirts of the town. The gorge has been made into a lovely reserve park with bridges and restaurants to entertain locals. We walked for a while around the gorge and ended up going on a surprise hike that took us up a steep hill so mystery and back to the gorge in a strange circle. The gorge had a nice basin, though, full of interesting rock formations covered in trees.

We were distracted by a lot of our walk/hike around the gorge by the sound of a wailing bird. Pritha remarked that it sounded like a peacock, and we ended up at a café that was indeed swarming (infested?) with peacocks howling and crowing at each other. This also confused me a lot, as I’m pretty sure peacocks are not native to Australia/Tasmania, but the effect was still beautiful.

After eating a large meal of fish and chips (or, for me, fish and salad), we walked around the riverfront of Launceston and slowly made our way back to the airport, where we celebrated a very lovely, successful, relaxing holiday together.

I’m so glad I went.

Fairs & Flus

*This post is written in memory of Vivian Wusthoff - my grandma who passed away this week. I was trying to post this piece earlier because I knew how much she loved reading my blog. Sadly, she died before I could.*

It has been another month since my last post about my life here!

I can explain.

I had the plague flu for 2 weeks straight; Influenza B, probably. As the large numbers of people battled this really wretched plague flu in Brisbane this winter season, I became a statistic halfway through August. I battled a fever, hacking coughs, and overall horrible-ness for an inconsiderate amount of time. I was really frustrated with this, as I had two (TWO!) flu vaccines since last year. This particular Influenza B was taken out of the vaccines a few years ago and has seen a significant come-back over the last few months.

After two and a half weeks of struggling to breathe, I'm finally alive again.

The day before my plague flu came into full-blown awfulness, I went to a huge event in Brisbane called Ekka. Queensland's August Ekka (short for Exhibition, as Aussies love abbreviations) is a week-long fair that hosts carnival rides, shows, animal competitions, cabarets, art competitions, and lots of food exhibitions within an intimate fair grounds. The way I saw it was a cross between a US State Fair and/or a 4-H Showcase, with a bit of carnival flair added.

I was feeling overwhelmed with studies and felt like taking a solo romantic adventure morning walking through Ekka. I mostly spent my time in the animals sections, which truthfully was the only part I had planned on visiting in the festival, anyways. I got to hold a baby chick, feed some baby goats and sheep, and socialize with well-groomed puppy competitors. I also tied a free colorful balloon to my wrist as I walked along the grounds and ate a strawberry ice cream that was rich and delicious. It might have been strange to the other guests with small children to see a grown woman eagerly bouncing up and down for animal cuddles with a balloon strapped to her arm, but I refuse to apologize for anything.

I made my way through a exhibition of competitive fruit cakes, decorated cakes, jams, vegetable displays, and crocheted blankets (among other things). I was perplexed that these prized food competitions were displayed behind glassed shelves, and I wondered how we know which one was best when all we can do is gaze on the fruit cake like a vision of Mary in a slice of toast.

I was surprised how American everything felt there. The crowd seemed to be mostly farm and country folk as I made my way through the fairgrounds, and there were lots of people aimlessly wandering around the Ekka. There was one difference, though; there were not nearly enough heavily deep-fried foodstuffs on sale. Some of the food for sale even seemed healthy! I was alright with this.

I was starting to feel the drain of the plague flu as I explored the Ekka, and I ended up going home early to nap. I had seen the animals, and that was all I needed.

Once I was bedridden, my life became isolated in my bed for days. I did not want to give anyone my sickness, so I hid from my friends and classmates for a week. In a refreshing display of civilization, my client refused to let me work (neither in the office nor at home) while I battled my fever, saying that "we don't do that in this country". So, in the end, I found myself with little to nothing to do for a very long period of time. With little ability to read and work on assignments, I ended up watching an entire Australian show - including all of the show's seasons and two movies - called "Kath and Kim".

"Kath and Kim" was a show that ran for a few years here, and it reminds me of a strange mix of the "Beverley Hillbillies" and "Arrested Development". Essentially, the show focuses on a strange mother-daughter pair living near Melbourne, and their bogan (read as: hick/redneck/hillbilly) lifestyle. The show is always ridiculous, and you can never tell if the characters are from the 80's, 90's, or modern time. They eat short hot dogs (called "footy franks") regularly, and they are very hard to understand sometimes - at least for my NYC ears.

I found myself completely involved in their lives for a number of days, and learning a lot of little pieces about the Australian culture I hadn't already experienced. For example, I now understand that people are quoting the show when they say, "I feel it in me waters!"

The downside of my anthropological research in Australian bogan lifestyles was that it was the only human interaction I had for a week, and it started to mess with my communication/social skills a bit. It took a few days to get out of it once I was back in the outside world.

Now that I am better, I am stressed again with school and work, and I am currently trying to catch up with life. I doubt I'll be completely caught up until two weeks from now.