I'm "Home"-ish!

...In Spain at least. I leave for Granada tomorrow morning. Only a wee 12-hour train ride. Nothing to write home about. (Ug.)

But let's talk about Barcelona!

My roomie and I decided to wander last night at, oh, about 10pm. I was so excited to actually have somebody to hang out with! And she was really nice! She's from Columbia, originally, living in Toronto but this year spending her time in Spain, taking (get this!) Spanish classes. You know you're in a whoooooooole different kind of Spanish-speaking country when native Spanish speakers need to take classes to learn how to speak Catalan- Spain's Spanish.

We walked La Rambla and tried to find some food. I realized tonight that we totally missed the Boqueria market! It's huge. We must have been distracted by the buskers (is that what they call those people who dress like trees or statues and pose for money?)... We found a cute little tapas place with a price that was right (5 euro for Sangria and 3 tapas) and soon found ourselves serenaded by a roaming three-man-band. Now this was the kind of experience I wanted to have! Everywhere I've been it's been closed or dead or I've been alone. Barcelona is so alive! There are people everywhere until late late late. Plus, did I mention how excited I was to actually meet someone in a hostel?

Me and the roomie with the rolling "r" name I can't remember!

My first tapas in Spain.

I spent the first half of my day trying to find the train station I need tomorrow. But the rest of the day? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh how I am IN LOVE with the sea. Love love love. There's sand and SUN and even though it's cold there are still crazy old ladies in bikinis walking around. It was lovely. I did some sight-seeing, too, but the sea was the highlight. Just right there, next to this huge city... all this blue. Sigh. I'll definitely be back to Barcelona!

La Playa (That's SPANISH!)

My view for an hour or so.

My ever-present headphones and scarf. I've already gone through my 36 hour audiobook and all of my podcasts. I never thought I'd get old enough that music was last on the list!

These guys were taking turns running, leaping off that ball buried in the sand and then spinning through the air.

Birds for sale on La Rambla. The roosters were having a crow-off. It was surreal. Reminded me of the market we went to in Thailand. The one I kept calling Chittychittybangbang because I couldn't remember the real one. They had every kind of usual and strange animal for sale. At first it was just fascinating to see bunnies and marmosets and chipmunks and chickens and then it just got depressing. (The marmosets were a trip, though. Have you ever seen one? They look at you. They look like tiny hairy men yapping at you with buck teeth.)

The lines to see Gaudi's Sagrada Family. I'm getting less and less interested in taking pictures of the tourist sites as my trip goes on...

The Barri Gotic (Old town)

Holla!

Dinner! Two juices for the price of one!

Boqueria Market.

On to Granada, my home away from home next!

Ferry Fail.

I trekked all day by train to the Grand Navi Veloci ferry dock in Genoa. Sounds fancy, huh? I think it may have been at one time. Now the "Lounge Magnifico" has stained seats that smell like stinky boy and dirt or water in every crevice. Still, it's the EXPERIENCE of travel that counts, right? It's not like I've been complaining the whole time I've been here. I've left most of that up to my two roommates.

There are 20 passengers total on this giant ferry. Probably twice that number of staff. And yet still they've crammed 3 of those 20 into one tiny smaller-than-dorm-sized room. For the first three hours we fought with reception over the persistent stream of heat coming into our room. With three bodies in a 20 square foot space, the last thing we needed was more heat. They kept insisting they had fixed the problem but I think the ladies at the front desk were just sick of dealing with us. They kept telling us to wait a half-hour, wait an hour, wait 15 minutes, wait to see if it gets better. Harumph.

My roomies are Rose (like, "Rosie") from Northern Italy. She's 23, in-between boyfriends, working south of Barcelona and taking this ferry because she's bringing her car from home. The other roomie is Danielle from Montreal, 52 (but you'd NEVER know it) and is on year two of a cycling trip around the world. Talk about inspiration. She broke her neck a few years ago and after some back-and-forth with her employer, got some sort of settlement allowing her to travel for years on end. Just her and her bike. She has more luggage than I do (60 kilo! I have 28!) and she says wherever she goes people are amazed that she's (a) solo and (b) carrying all of that herself. Well, biking it. She showed me some amazing pictures of New Zealand, which made me very excited about my trip there. I hope I get to see some of these off-the-map places too. Makes me want to take up cycling. Or just latch a side car onto her ride.

Considering the tight quarters and the heat and the crappy service, these ladies have made the trip (dare I say) enjoyable. This is one of those opportunities people keep saying I'll have but because I'm traveling off season I rarely do: to meet people. Danielle is biking all around Spain and took my email address so maybe we can meet up if she comes to Granada. How fun!

The trip itself is fine. The slow rocking of the boat and the constant heat make me sleepy. The view is amazing. This water is SO BLUE! And I can see coastline in the distance. Is that France? Must be. We are supposed to arrive in Barcelona around 4:30 pm, or 1:30 pm... since I don't speak Italian I'm not quite sure what the announcements are saying. For some reason I thought we were supposed to land at 8 am. Whoops.

Since I've spent most of this trip chatting I haven't read any of my Spain book. I'm not sure what I'm going to do in Barcelona yet. I am looking forward to Spain and hearing a language I can (barely) understand and (barely-er) speak. Regardless, it'll be more than "please" and point!

I hope I do get to see more of Italy at some point in my life. On my last morning I found this book about walking tours of Siena and it detailed 6-hour itineraries taking you out of the main toursity areas to the countryside (like Chianti) to see ancient farmhouses and long-abandoned churches. Yes, please! As long as I don't have to drag my bags along. There is so much to see and I saw such a small part of it. Everywhere. Looking at Danielle's pictures just encourages more exploration... and inspires me to find less buildings and more nature.

Here's her site: http://web.mac.com/danielleavelo/Acc%C3%A8s/Bienvenue.html

Check it, yo!

So I have arrived at my hostel- SO much better than the one in Marseille. 6 beds in this room and only one other girl. She's so nice, too. From Columbia but lives in Toronto. (I can't remember her name. Something with a rolling "r"...) I am off to the market to get some food and then do some evening exploring. I'll have a full day ahead of me, too. Everybody says: Only TWO days in Barcelona? Well, it's really more like one and a half. I'll walk fast.


(The little cabin, Danielle and Rose.)

Cheers!

Siena

Years ago when my book club was just getting going, we read a book about a woman traveling Europe solo for several months. She embraces her freedom (was it after a divorce or just empty nest?) and at each stop on her itinerary would write herself postcards reflecting on her journey. She would begin each of these "Dear Alice," followed with haughty (and what I thought were silly) descriptions of the delicious crumpet she was eating, glistening with apricot jam, while overlooking the cobblestone streets of some small town in England. (Kathy Cook knows what I'm talking about. I think she was the only other one in the group bothered by these.) What I found to be silly and self-congratulatory missives to oneself... I hope this blog doesn't come off that way. As a "Dear Krista,"... Ug.

At the risk of doing just that, though, I have decided to write about my own profundity amidst the rooftops of Siena.

You could say I had a moment. (Feel free to look away...)

I climbed the 131 steps to experience the Panorama del Faciatone (I promise I'll stop counting steps soon) next to Il Duomo, the largest church I've ever seen. The Panorama offers, well, a panoramic view of Siena and the neighboring countryside. I was lucky the rain had ceased the day before. I had sunny, clear and COLD skies. It was all red tiled roofs, rolling green hills and ancient city walls. It was so quiet up there and I had no agenda so I decided to stay a while. Since I often find myself needing to do something while doing something else (like, listen to an audiobook while trudging around Paris or reading while eating dinner... alone) I chose to listen to a meditation podcast. Here's where we get, uh, "deep"?

The meditation called for counting your blessings, starting with small things like appreciating the simple act of breathing, your eyes for what they see and ears for what they hear, your mouth for the sensations of eating and talking and kissing, your arms to hold and lift and your legs to dangle or run or dance. It called for me to meditate on who my champions are- the ones that support me, love me, the ones that are rooting for me to succeed. Here the guide said not to focus on those who don't support you and honestly, I couldn't think of one single person who isn't rooting for me. How lucky am I?

Then the guide asked who has contributed to me being here? What advantages have I been given in life? Who do I feel lucky to have close to me? To love? The meditation urged me to reflect on these things and be grateful for all these elements allowing me to be where I am and who I am today.

It was pretty amazing. I was thinking about this spot on the earth I occupied in that second and the millions of people who have stood there as well over centuries past. I thought about how far away from home I am. I looked up into the clear blue sky above I thought it must be nighttime there. Everybody asleep. So far away. Here I am, jobless, homeless but not at all lost in the heart of Tuscany. I am truly grateful. And while I could congratulate myself for taking on such a journey solo, it really couldn't have happened without the support of friends and family. (And Uncle Sam.) I would be lost if I really felt like I was on my own.

I do think about the things I want but can't have (my glasses!! sadness!) and of course money is a daily issue since I am unemployed... but then I think about all that I do have and I find myself very happy. I have the luxury of not being bored, not being in a rut, every day is my own. Grateful, happy and FREE!

And then a slew of Japanese tourists flooded up the stairs to my oasis and ruined- just RUINED- my day.

(Just kidding.)

Postcards From Italy

The view from my terrace in Cinque Terre. Awful, isn't it?

The story of my trip...

Corniglia, from where the bus (that may or may not run) drops you off. (Town center) I think everybody has their own little vineyard cut into the hills.

Laundry day in Riomagiorre.

Does that say "good bowels" in Italian?

Riomagiorre- my view as I ate my pear.

Graffiti on the "Lover's Walk" to Manarola. (The only walk I could do... otherwise I took the train.)

The view from Lover's Walk.

Just in case you forgot it was Lover's Walk. There are padlocks everywhere with love notes written or engraved on them.

Lacking a padlock, I improvised a contribution.

Monterosso.

Lots of fishing going on around here...

Vernazza.

Putting my fine, made-from-scratch cooking skills to the test.

Deliciouso!

Vicious attack cats guarding the door to my pensione.

Another view from my room. Sigh.

Across the "street". All I could hear at night was the sound of these waves, crashing.

And in case you were feeling too romantic about Italy:

In the train station you can get a picture of yourself "Chinese-ified" in a little booth for 2 Euro.

Cinque Terre

My time in Cinque Terre has been uber relaxing. (I haven't scaled those steps again. This being part of the reason why my time has been relaxing...) My first day here I spent roaming Corniglia. That took about 30 minutes. This town is tiny. Old and tiny. I walked very slowly to maximize my time. I had the most expensive lunch I've had yet in Europe. Yikes. Guess that's the one touristy bit here.

The rest of my day was spent napping, reading (I just started Chris Bohjalian's Skeletons at the Feast... one of the two I bought in that bookstore in Paris. It's quite good. Downside of reading on vacation: I'm already halfway done. :() and trying to stay warm. For some reason yesterday this place was freezing. There are two radiators in my room and I found the best spot is sitting in front of one with a comforter wrapped around me and covering it to make a little heat teepee. This only works until my butt would fall asleep from the hard wood chair, then I'd shift to the radiator by the bed but then my back would start to hurt from hunching... then switch again. Today is much better, much warmer inside. Although, that might be the wine talking.

In addition to 3 of the 6 restaurants in town being closed for the winter, apparently THE CINQUE TERRE TRAIL is closed too. You can only walk the trail from Riomaggiore to Manarola. The trails to Corniglia, Vernazza and Monterosso are closed. Nutballs. At least I didn't have to do those stairs again. Each town is a little different but they all have similar themes: seaworn paint on the skinny buildings leaning on each other, amazing views of the sea, turquoise water lapping at their shores, and businesses that are closed for the winter. So much for traveling in the off season. So, no local trofi pasta, farinata, tore di verdora, acciuche or gelato for me. It's a good thing I am easily pleased with my market-bought pasta and pesto and a bottle of vino. The lunch I had yesterday was good but not the amazing Italian pasta I had expected. Still the winner is that delicious pasta we had in Siem Reap. There was an ex-pat's Italian place out in the boondocks the 6 of us at at one of our last nights in Cambodia. I had something creamy with mushrooms, ham and heavenly goodness. Hopefully in Siena I'll find something just as yummy. I want some real pizza, too!

There's only so much sightseeing you can do in a day. I don't know about you, but after about 6 hours of picturesque villages I kind of poop out. Charming, yes. Snap, snap, snap. Italian ladies chatting in the streets. More charm. More stairs. Snap, snap, snap. Ok. Ready to go home now. It's also really cold out. Like, 2 degrees. (Ok, celsius, but still...)

My evening has been great, though! I blasted the music of Amanda Blank, poured myself a glass of local wine and cooked up some dinner in my teeny tiny kitchen. I bought local pesto- this region is known for their pesto- and did my own version of cheese grating with this giant rolling butcher knife thing I found in the kitchen. The mystery ravioli I bought turns out to have bacon in it! Could it get any better? While eating I entertained myself by playing Wheel of Fortune on my netbook. (There is- gasp- no tv in my room. I can't remember the last time I watched tv. Cambodia?)

So, I've repacked my backpack for the nth time and resume my travel routine- charging everything, double checking I didn't leave anything behind (glasses!!!) and writing out tomorrow's travel itinerary. I head to Siena through Pisa. Not sure if I'll stop to check out Pisa or just push through... Stay tuned.

Boodely Toodely Hoodely

I know I've used it before and and my evening warrants another shout of it: OMG What a day. My train travels weren't too bad, except for accidentally getting on the wrong train (got off at the next stop and found the right one right away... phew) and THEN THEN THEN after all day transferring here and running around there and train train train I get to Corniglia at 7:30. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corniglia) There's supposed to be a bus to take me to town at 8pm but I arrive to a deserted train station. In the dark. The only soul around is a stray dog who seems very sympathetic to my plight.

Did you know there are 377 steps to get to the town center? Did you know my luggage now weighs 61 pounds? Did you know the only way into town is up those steps? I HAD TO DRAG MY LUGGAGE UP THESE STEPS!!! In the dark. I got lost twice trying to get to the stairs after giving up on the bus. There was no phone at the station and I was worried I wasn't going to have a room since I would end up being and hour later than I told the inn keeper I'd be. Plus I couldn't find the frickin steps! Did I mention I lost my glasses somewhere in Cambodia? My super cool funky ones? I have a back up pair but it's an old prescription and I think it hinder my ability to see stairs.

This is like old world DARK town with NO street signs. I had my first breakdown! (Check! Check!) I started to cry. Me wiping my eyes, wandering to and fro. And the dog. To be fair, he seemed very concerned though.

I sucked it up and started walking. Well, dragging and pausing every 20 steps or so to catch my breath and have myself a little pity party. WHY did I pick the ONE town of the 5 that isn't at sea level????

I found this picture online. Those are the train tracks and this pic is probably 2/3rds of the way there.

Anyhow. I made it. My room is super cute and has a gorgeous view. I have my own little kitchen (just bought pasta, parmesean, beans and tomatoes and some unidentified lemon-flavored sweet treat. Oh, and limoncello. I just couldn't do the Grappa quite yet...) and my own little veranda. I just did laundry and it's flapping on the clothesline as we speak. Nobody in Europe has a dryer, I've discovered, so you see undies, sheets, t-shirts out on the lines wherever you go.

The only internet I found is a pay per minute with their own computers. I won't be able to upload my own pics until I get to my next destination. I'm thinking Florence. Regardless, I decided to stay here three nights instead of two so I could have today to recover (from the steps) and then tomorrow to do the Cinque Terre walk. It's sunny, if cold, and the views are amazing. My 'landlady' is super sweet and brought me oranges from her garden this morning.

This town is full of toothless old men and hunched over old ladies, coming from church and chatting in the streets. Well, FULL being a relative term... Everybody is quick to smile and say things in Italian to me. I think they're saying hello or good morning or something nice. I suppose I should write down some phrases so that smiling and nodding isn't my only form of communication.

Off for some food and more of my favorite activity: wandering. Ciao!

Marseille Does Not Have An "S" On The End. (Oops!)

Today I managed to waste another 4 hours online, planning the next phase of my journey. While it took away from my sightseeing time here in Marseille, I'm feeling pretty good about my plan!

I'm heading to Cinque Terre (sorry, Nic) tomorrow and then * I think * Florence after that. I bought a ferry ticket from Genoa to Barcelona for Thursday. It's an overnighter! With a cabin! That I'll hopefully share with non-feetsmelly girls! We'll see.

I secured a place in Barcelona for $30 a night and then a place in Granada for $25 a night (yay to saving money without using hostels!) so I'm golden from the 28th until the 1st. I have to have my language assesment in Granada on the first and then I have a week until classes start. I'll have to delay my journey to Seville until then. With two months in Spain, I'll have plenty of time to explore, right?

My only gap is from the 25th to the 28th. Tuscany's the best option, right? I could go to Venice but that would only require a day... I keep telling myself that this isn't the ONLY time I'll be in this region and any choice I make is a good one since I'll be seeing something new and awesome and Italian. Right?

Today (when I finally left this place) I wandered down to the waterfront- or, rather, the port. There's a little bay surrounded by walkways and cut off to the sea by two forts on either end. The bay is full of boats (like a Shilshole plopped downtown) and the streets around them are full of short French men talking endlessly to each other. I met a very lovely French woman who tried her darndest to explain the light of Jehovah to me while I stared blankly back, trying to come up with the French words for "I need to go NOW." Marseille is HUGE and looking around is like a "Where's Waldo" of historic sites. They're plopped down between the "modern" buildings. (You know, modern, like, the 1800's.) There's a castle-looking thing on the hill, those forts I mentioned, lots of old churches, pieces of the old walls of the city resting in the courtyards of skyscrapers... It's pretty surreal.

I took a tour boat to the Ile D'If to see the huge chateau/prison the Counte of Monte Cristo was based around. I took some amazing pictures of the sunset over the islands with the blue Mediterranean below. You'll have to take my word for it though because I'm too lazy to go up to the stinky feet room to get my camera. Soon, soon. That AND my stories of Lyon AND the long-awaited Angkor Wat recap. I promise.

On the way back from the old port I walked through the Panier district- somewhat. It was dark. I saw lots of brick and wrought iron and prettyness. I passed a Chinese/Vietnamese restaurant and suddenly had a hankering for Pho. They wanted 7 Euros for a bowl! Eff that! That's, like, 10 bucks! Sadly, I headed home empty-bellied for once and managed to get myself lost. I had one creepy dude look at me the wrong way, then took the easy way out and trammed it back to my hostel.

And here I've been on this happening Friday night. Doing my online chores and getting my train schedule squared away. I'm looking forward to my time in Cinque Terre. I'm a bit nervous everything will be closed as in Arles. All I need is some wine and a pizza or two and my book will be company enough. I'll be staying at a B&B with a view, by myself. Hopefully not contributing my own stench of loneliness. Wah-wah.

Ug.

I'm writing you from the common room my hostel (my second Hostel experience ever- shout out to Erin and our I Love Lucy and the blood on the ceiling place in Copenhagen!) and taking refuge from the rancid feet smell in my room. The trade off to the stinky is listening to the young Scottish girls speed talk in barely decipherable English to their loved ones on Skype. Three of them talking at once, all the same tone, all the same pitch, all the same accent.

I'm exhausted today. The Doxy I'm taking not only makes me barf occasionally but it's been giving me nightmares. Two nights ago it was about me and my best friend (Jennifer Beals of Flashdance or L Word fame, of course) being chased, threatened and ultimately attacked by a group of guys. I managed to escape to seek the help of the first cop I found who happened to be Don Johnson. Where does this stuff come from? My dream interpretation skills are on haitus. Last night's was equally creepy and too awful to recap- let's just say I was greatly relieved to wake up to my life. Even as chaotic as it is.

After Stephen so graciously accompanied me to my 7:30 am train, I tortured myself with the following itinerary: train to Marseille, drop stuff off at hostel then take the train to Aix en Provence, intend to spend time there before heading to Avingnon only to discover I can't find the train I need so I go back to Marseille, decide to skip Avingnon and head to Arles, wander Arles (which seems to be closed for the winter) and fail to find any van Gogh spots I seek because they either aren't represented on the tourist map or they are closed for the winter (!!!), head back to Marseille, drop my stuff off in the Feet Room then attempt to stay awake until a respectible hour to go to sleep.

Maybe it's because I'm tired or maybe it is the (what day is it?) six weeks of travel under my belt so far but I am really really REALLY looking forward to settling in for a bit. And looking forward to not seeking lodging. And not carrying my luggage. Man, I am wussing out. I think tomorrow will be a better day after 12 or so hours of sleep. Marseille is gorgeous (did you know it was on the Mediterranean??? Did I fall asleep that day in Geography class?) and I'm looking forward to exploring. (Count of Monte Cristo castle, anybody?) I just hope I don't smell like feet all day.

Will write more later as soon as I ca- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Seh Vah?

Ok. I swear I'm going to recap Angkor Wat. I'm getting a wee bit behind on everything else, though!

My trip to Paris from Cambodia:

It's amazing that you can actually waste so much time in an airport without doing anything productive. Even with internet access available, what did I choose to do with my time in Kuala Lumpur airport? Wander. Eat. Wander more. Potty break. Look at magazines. Wander through the jungle atrium in the middle of the aiport. Watch the crappy movie playing on one of the tvs. Wander. Eat. Potty break. Hence, 9 hours passed like so many Saturday mornings for me.
I arrived in Paris unscathed, dragged my luggage to the bus to my train then to my rental. I used www.airbnb.com to find a place. I stayed in the spare room of a gay couple on the Nanterre-Prefecture line. It was $68 for two nights! Can't beat that! They were very nice, accomodating and spoke perfect English. When telling me about thier travels through the US, in addition to Chicago, New York, Las Vegas and San Fransciso, one of their destinations was Detroit. Who goes to Detroit???? From Paris??? REALLY?

(OMG. I'm writing this on the train to Lyon- first class, I might add- and what did I just hear? Not only is someone clipping their fingernails behind me (the WORST sound ever- seriously worthy of ALL CAPS!) but someone in front of me just FARTED. Then grunted like it was a real effort to push it out. OMG. Nail clipping again. I'm going to diiiiiieeee.)

Ok- back to Paris. What did I do for my two days there? Taking a cue from my awesome time in the airport, I wandered.... Along the Champs d'Elysees, St. Germain, by the Eiffel Tower and around every neighborhood in between. And ate... I had baguettes stuffed with cheese and meat and sweet crepes. I rode the metro. I went to Shakespeare & Co to buy a book and ended up staying for an authors' reading.

(OMG! How many nails does this guy HAVE?????????)

The author is Luc Sante and he was born in Belgium but raised in New York City. Someone asked him about being bilingual and if he felt differently when using each language. He said he is well-educated in English (a professor of photography and literature) but his French education ceased at grade school. He said in French he feels very working-class- he can shout out the window of a taxi with the best of them- but lacks the verbiage to think critically. He also said there's something about the French language that scratches an itch that English just can't. I loved that. There is something lovely about hearing French all around you. It's far prettier than the languages we heard in Asia... At least to my ear.

So, I am on the train to Lyon to stay for a couple of days with Stephen. I wish I had done the sewer tour, but it was closed. I wish I had gone to Versailles, but I just didn't have the energy. I wish I had explored other areas but I was just so caught up in the wandering. I feel pretty good about my second time in Paris even though I chose to not do so many things. Regardless, it's nice just to be somewhere with such rich history. It's a lovely city. I'm hoping someday to see it when it's not cold and foggy. (Although that seems to make it all the more poetic.)

I do love using my rudimentary French. Usually this sounds like: "Bone-joor! See voo play, zhay voo dray... uh... (points to a sandwich)... wee! Mare-see!" I don't know WHY these people automatically speak back to me in English. Are they not fooled by my mad skillz???

Sigh. Ok, notes from Lyon to follow!

Elephants, Mr. No and the Dolphin Girl

One strange (and lovely) side-effect of vacationing is the loss of time. Days run together... Hours pass by and at the end of the day you have to do a mental inventory to ensure you made the best use of your time.

Several days I woke not knowing what day it was. One time Gwenn and I were thwarted in our attempts to book a hotel room online. Over and over we refreshed the page- surely there are SOME vacancies in town? We gave up only to realize a few hours later we were trying to book for the previous day. Doh! 11th, 12th, 13th... They're all the same, right?

Let's wind the clock back to the 8th. This was a special day. Gwenn and I decided to book a tour to Pa La-U Waterfall and ride elephants. Since we had basically spent the bulk of our trip wandering and shopping, we thought it was time for a change of pace. We found the tour office while we were searching for a different place to stay on the waterfront. We lucked out on both accounts, finding a place on the end of a pier and an affordable packaged tour in the same 'hood. Oh, and we saw a monkey wandering the streets.

Accompanied by his giant balls.

We set our alarm to wake early for breakfast and packing only to (doh!) realize we set it for PM instead of AM... Woke up late, rush rush rush, Krista takes her Doxycycline (for the hundreds of mosquito bites I've received) and then some bad things happen. I didn't think I had a sensitive system until taking this stuff. They say to take it with a meal and, silly me, I thought taking it minutes before a meal would be good enough. Halfway through our breakfast I feel the wet mouth, throat tightening, stomach churning. I puke my guts out. After a couple good heaves, I come back to find our tour guide waiting. Ready to go??? There are three other people on the tour with us- a trio of Dutchies.

I thought I was better since there was nothing left in my system. I wolfed down some bread snacks we brought with us to counteract future nausea. I told Gwenn if I patted her leg she had to make them pull over. Not ten minutes in: stomach churns, throat tightens, mouth waters, pat pat pat leg. I barely got out the door before projectile vomiting onto the shoulder of the road. And of course, everybody sees. I was horrified. They quickly scurried around the van to give me the forward seat... just in case. Pineapple, anyone?

We toured pineapple fields (The little ones are so cute! Gwenn took about 40 pictures that I will spare you from) then hiked to the 5th level of Pa La-U falls. We bought doggie kibble on the way to feed the carp. I've never seen a fish feeding frenzy like that. They all waited in a line along the rocks nearest wherever people were. They went nuts, flipping over each other, jumping and hustling to wherever the nuggets dropped. Lots of squeals came from our group. Well, ok, just from Gwenn and me. We also saw a cute little frog resting in the hollow part of a tree, a strange little elephant cicada, flocks (?) of butterflies and mosquitoes that loved the little buffet my arms and legs had to offer. At the 3rd level of the falls we noticed there was a large boulder jutting out above the ground with sticks propped up under it. Our guide told us it's tradition- for luck. You put a stick under in the hopes that someday when you need support someone will be there for you, too.

The falls were lovely and no more vomiting for Krista. (Yay!) After a shared lunch on the way back, our group splits so that Gwenn and I can head to the "Elephant Village". We were the only visitors there at first and our guide hopped on the neck of our elephant as we strapped ourselves into the seat. High high high up, I might add. More squeals. After a lumbering stroll around the grounds our guide asked if we wanted to ride on the neck. Did we ever! Elephant skin is a funny thing. It's so thick and sparse, 2-inch long black bristles poke out sporadically from it's numerous wrinkles. The closest thing I can think of is on of those brand new bike tires with the little pokies on it. With a little dust coating. Anyway, it was really amazing.

After feeding our elephant some pineapple and bananas (and taking a million pictures), we headed back to town. Our best day in Hua Hin continued. Gwenn wanted some seafood, since the town is supposed to be known for it. We found a place in the main night market area and were treated to our favorite experience with a waiter. Possibly ever. We called him Mr. No since most of the conversations we had with him went like this:

"Do you have papaya salad?"
"No?, but we have... another salad with... vegetable."
"Oh, is it like papaya salad?"
"Noooooooo?"
silence
"Oh."

and

"We have... uh... the fish... barracuda."
"Oh, is that good?"
"I don't know?"
silence
"Oh."

and

"Are you... from... Australia?"
"No. Do we look Australian?"
"Nooooo?"
silence

Maybe you had to be there. Anyway. We snuck a picture because he made us laugh so hard.

After an... interesting... meal of barracuda and mixed seafood grill, Gwenn and I headed to the Plaza for Thai boxing. Here Gwenn takes another 40 or so pictures I'll spare you from, but it was a sight to see. The age range was from about 10 to 25 with 5 rounds, each with it's own age group. There was some gooooood people watching.

The fashions were cutting-edge.

The family next to us got a liiiiiiiiittle bit rowdy.


And this little girl (sneak attack pic- she's wearing the black and yellow dress) gave us our second favorite thrill of the night when she flipped her head to and fro just so slightly to get her hair out of her face. She did it so subtly she looked like a little dolphin wiggling her snout over the surface of the water. We watched her all night for recurrences. Dolphin face. It funny.

Now, the heat makes you a little loopy, as does consuming sickeningly sweet red bulls and vodka and Angkor beers. We didn't recall to clearly until the next day that we stopped at McDonalds for a late night snack. Ug. Silly and sleepy and full of grease, we wandered out to the deserted end of our pier. After more picture-taking and watching the water, we headed to our room and fell asleep to the sweet sounds of the sea lapping at the pillars under our floorboards.

Best day in Hua Hin.

Thailand!

I know it seems like ages ago that I was visiting temples in Cambodia and promising to write about... I'll get there. I promise. For now, I'll recap our trip to Thailand while it's (relatively) fresh.

Our trip from Siem Ream to the border consisted of a taxi ride ($40 for the 2 hour ride). Here I learned some valuable lessons about driving etiquette in Cambodia. For instance:

1. The yellow line in the middle of the two lane road is actually a third lane in itself. Leave your western "two lane = two cars" conceptions at the door, silly.

2. It is acceptable to pass on the shoulder or in between two cars at any time. Ignore your passengers squealing in the back seat.

3. Horn honking should be reserved ONLY for the following occasions: when passing, when you are behind someone, when you are in front of someone, when you are next to someone, when you want to alert someone to your presence in case they didn't honk first, when a fly hits the windshield, when you adjust your seat or when adjusting the radio. Don't abuse the horn, people. There aren't any Schucks around here. (If there were, however, surely they would only carry replacement car horns.)

4. Toyotas are the bomb here. All hail the Toyota.

5. If you find your truck cab to be full of rice or farm animals, it is acceptable to cram your 14 passengers in the back of the truck, hanging on for dear life.

6. If you find you have 15 passengers, the extra passenger can sit on that handy extra seat: the hood of the car.

7. Only have a motorcycle or moped? No worries! The entire family can fit on that bike. Asians are skinny, remember?

8. Two-year-olds are responsible for hanging on themselves. If you are old enough to grip a bottle, you're old enough to hang on to a handlebar at 30 miles per hour.

9. Oh, and speed limits? Not necessary because the speedometer in your Toyota doesn't work anyway.

Needless to say, it was an interesting ride.

We made it through the border with minimum hassle (save for my potty break episode) and found a bus to Bangkok. On our 5 hour ride we enjoyed some Thai TV programing. It was a variety show featuring singing, choreographed dances, gaggy game shows and black face. Oh, and little people as a punchline. Oh, that's right, and jokes about Pakistanis. It must have been a good one because our bus was rolling with laughter.

Our arrival into Bangkok was a little frantic because we didn't really know where we were and Krista has been a naughty packer and likes to wear dresses that catch when she tries to put her giant, heavy backpack on. We made it to our hotel, eventually, to find we had been upgraded to a suite. This room was awesome. Until the power went out. Then it flickered back on, then off, then on, then made a weird electrical hum then our phone rang with nobody there then it rang again. You know how I love a good ghost story? You know where my mind went, right? We decided that would be a lovely time to get some street food, provided we didn't have to walk down the 19 flights of stairs. (We didn't... Generator popped on!)

The streets are abuzz (is that a word? it is now) with people selling shirts, watches, glasses and that thing I may have mentioned once or twice before: food. We found a fly-by-night restaurant and took our chances ordering by pointing at pictures. I had some lovely (if spicy) green curry and Gwenn had the cashew chicken. I would find this to be a theme over the next couple of days: Krista is "adventurous" and ends up burning her face off. Meanwhile, the heat lover (thumbs to Gwenn) gets the mild dishes I end up eating once my charred gums recover enough to chew.

I got to see the Nana district, which is where all the bars are. Well, the bars where you can buy ladies. I had asked for it, I wanted to see this part of Thailand because I had heard the stories. Now, this wasn't the ping pong show. (I wanted to see that too but ended up spending that money on a painting instead. Are my priorities whacked or what???) These were the bars full of Thai girls with numbers pinned to them and old, white men foaming at the mouth as the girls dance with vacant, lifeless expressions for them... waiting for their number to be picked. It was sad. And gross.

We wanted to get some beach time in. Correction: I wanted to get some beach time in and made Gwenn go with me. We took a 2 hour bus ride the next day to Hua Hin. It's on the Gulf of Thailand side of the country. At first I was a little discouraged. The town was full of puffy, sunburned Europeans. These weren't the sandy beaches full of bungalows I had expected. But, after a day of settling in, we found some things to love about the town: The night markets and their labyrinths of things to buy. The restaurants in the night markets advertising their fresh seafood by displaying it next to the grill for you to see as you walk by. Full of bright blue prawns, purple squid, strange fish with teeth, the prettiest blue-green mussels you've ever seen and crabs so fresh they were still moving... The smells and the hiss of the grills as you walked by was amazing. We found a quiet strip of beach and some sweet street dogs to give the leftovers to. Every Thai we encountered was smiley and sweet and helpful. The mango and sticky rice was delicious. AND we ended up finding a room on a pier. Like, over the water. You could see the waves through our floorboards. That was truly special.

We opted to book a tour of a nearby waterfall and an elephant ride. I'll write about this in a separate entry, since this one is getting long!

Stay tuned!

Humiliation Station

Let's talk about toilets, shall we? This entry is strictly for the ladies. Boys, just skip down to the Bangkok talk, k?

So far in Cambodia we've had great success finding clean bathrooms with actual toilets. Most of them even have actual toilet paper in them. And most of those are flushable, too. The ones that don't have buckets of water and scoop for one to fill the bowl and let gravity whisk your business away. It's a bit different and at first, but you adjust like a good little traveler. When you are a female traveler and your Aunt Flo has followed you on vacation, however, things can get a little more complicated.

Crossing into Thailand was the first time we encountered the squatter toilet. Krista has NOT been very proactive about issues down here (points to area). It might be the heat, or being slightly dehydrated or just all the adjustments in general but my period has been weird this month. I keep thinking it's over, like, clean tampon after clean tampon but the second I don't have one in, like when crossing the border, my body decides THAT'S the time to clean house. You can see where this is going, right? I know it's gross and I probably shouldn't be sharing, but it's the reality of traveling when you're a woman.

Hot, sweaty, with my giant backpack, hungry, tired, thirsty, travel weary and in desperate need of a bathroom break, I start to panic. OH, GOD. This is going to go everywhere. I can feel it. We get across the border and find that there is a public toilet but you have to pay for it. We haven't exchanged any baht yet, so Gwenn runs off to do that while I wait trying to stand as still as possible... just in case. I run to the potty as soon as she's back only to find it's a squatter. And no toilet paper. All I can do is look from where I want the toilet to be to where I want the toilet paper to be and back again. This does not make them appear. I check the damage. I have, sadly, soaked through my underwear and blood is everywhere. Curses. I dig through my bag looking for any paper I can use. All I have is my budget sheet, a receipt from the Starbucks in the Korean airport and the post it I wrote our hotel info on.

Humiliated, I have to go back out and ask Gwenn for her wet wipes. I go back to the squatter and try to clean up. All it's doing is making my underwear pink. And wet. And disgusting. I have to throw my undies out which means I have to take another trip out to dig through my bag for some clean underwear. Then walk back to the bathroom again, face flushed with embarrassment. They were my favorite pair, too. I hate that. At least I am an avid skirt-wearer, so no worries about having to tie a sweatshirt around my waist. So sad. So middle school! Sigh.

And scene.

One Night In Bangkok

In my first hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: The best pineapple I've ever had...

In the second hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: Two fresh squeezed oj's and the best pineapple I've ever had.

In the third hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: Three tuk tuks honking, two fresh squeezed oj's and the best pineapple I've ever had.

In the fourth hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: Four curry vendors, three tuk tuks honking, two fresh squeezed oj's and the best pineapple I've ever had.

In the fifth hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: Five COCK-ROACH-ESSSS!!!!, four curry vendors, three tuk tuks honking, two fresh squeezed oj's and the best pineapple I've ever had.

In the sixth hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: Six old white dude & Thai lady couples, Five COCK-ROACH-ESSSS!!!, four curry vendors, three tuk tuks honking, two fresh squeezed oj's and the best pineapple I've ever had.

In the seventh hour in Bangkok, the city gave to me: Seven million 7-11's...

Ok... you get the point.

I'm in Bangkok! We came on, uh, what day is this? Saturday? We came on Monday, stayed one night, then headed to the beach for a few. We just got back and are rested and relaxed and ready to shop! The city is alive with street vendors, every kind of yummy thai dish you could want, all the cheap crappy sunglasses and wallets you don't and people people people everywhere. So far it's been great, except for the cockroaches we saw in the street. Gwenn tried to get me to think about them as "big beetles" but hell to the no. I remember a day of cockroaches in Arizona when our neighbor decided to bug bomb the sewer and it caused a swarm of cockroaches to invade our street. And our kitchen sink. Gives me shivers to this day. Plus, I'm wearing flip-flops and it would be so easy for one to jump on me, crawl up my body, into my ear and lay its eggs IN MY BRAIN. We can't have that can we???

I truly have been eating my way across Thailand. There is just so much yummy (and strange) food to be eaten. We've been doing our part to keep the street vendors in business, buying fresh oj or carrot juice, pineapple, pineapple, pineapple, pad thai, unidentified rice dishes, mango and sweet rice, Thai tea, green curry, cashew chicken, Chinese donuts and various treats to ensure my pants won't slip off my hips anytime soon. It's great.

It's so hot here I'm pretty sure I lose 2 pounds a day, anyway. I'm glad we have access to laundry because my borrowed backpack is getting a we bit toxic. (Sorry, Michele.) On the plus side, my pores have never been cleaner! And I've gained 7 new freckles from the sun.

We checked out the Vespa market tonight, which lives up to it's name. The Thai hipsters are super into all things retro, especially Vespas. This market had almost as many bike part vendors as anything else. We did get some yummy treats for dinner (surprise!) and I scored two super cute tank tops for $8. (Total. Did I mention everything is pretty cheap? Not as cheap as Cambodia, but nearly...) Tomorrow we're heading to one of the largest markets here, the Chatachak weekend market. Our hotel is next to Lumphini Park so we'll get to see all the Tai Chi'ers on the way if we get our butts out of bed early enough. If not, I'll just peek from our window. This may not be America, but I can still do whatever I want. I'm on vacation!

Speaking of... I need to hit the hay. We'll be here for the next three days, shopping, eating and resting in the best hotel room I've ever been in. I'll update on the Temples we saw in Cambodia, our time in the beach town Hua Hin and our exciting hotel black out our first night here. !!!

Cheers!

I Am Alive!

Where have I been?

Why haven't I been posting???? Am I DEAD????

No... We've been sadly without wifi so my little netbook hasn't been able to update. I do have some stories to share and here's a little bit to keep you checking back: Bangkok street food, shopping, Thai boxing, seafood in seaside town, elephants and sunburns.

Heading back to Bangkok from Hua Hin today. Will post more later!

Updates!

We've been invaded. Until now our time here in Siem Reap has been surprisingly mosquito free. I've found one mosquito/unidentified bug bite since landing here. But today: they're catching up. I discovered that our window was open last night for God knows how long and I think this was mosquito version of a neon sign advertising an all-you-can-eat buffet. This morning I counted 6 more bites on my legs. I fear I'll look like a contestant on Survivor by the time we move on- all bug bites and sun burnt patches. (The part where you lose 30 pounds in a few weeks would be a bonus, though.)

Our first morning here I made a little friend in the shower. As I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I spied a gecko stuck to the wall. Just hanging out. Watching. Silently threatening to fall on me. I've seen a look like that in beady little eyes before... If you want to see a gecko here all you have to do is look up. They are stuck to every ceiling and wall, patiently waiting for the mosquitoes to finish feasting on puffy foreigners and come out to play.
What else? I got a pedicure yesterday but it is so warm out that the polish melted and all but slid of my toenails. With no nail polish remover available to fix them I look like I have some bizarre, pearly red fungal infection.

Lordy. We've just spent 4 hours trying to find a way to shave off at least 4 hours from our travels. We're still contemplating our next destination and the best way to get there. We're kind of land locked being in Siem Reap. The roads are a bit sketchy and you can either go way north or way south to get back to Phnom Penh, where we both fly out from. We had planned on Bangkok, then a beach somewhere, but most of the places we were interested in involved hopping around, wasting valuable vacation time. Getting to Bangkok from here requires either an inflated air ticket ($130 or so one way) or a $60 cab to the border, then a $10 or $20 bus ride (split between the two of us). Oh, and it's the difference of 1 hour or 7.

I am grateful to have a travel companion for this part of my seven-month journey, though. If I was on my own I'd have given up and re-booked my perfectly lovely room for the next week instead of making decisions. We keep each other on task. (Unless the task is any of the things we've been meaning to do for the last three days but instead spend our days lounging in our room or in the bar or sitting in the sun or walking from our room to the bar in the sun.)

I think we've settled on a beach town, at least. We like Hua Hin- about 2 hours from Bangkok. Leave it to me to wait until I'm super sluggish and lazy from the heat with brain fog still hovering from my cold, period-crampy and indecisive as the perfect time to plan the most complicated leg of our trip. I wish there was an iTouch application for "Think For Me". Or "Whine." Or "Help, Mommy."

More to come!

Photo Hunt

The game goes like this: Find the weary travelers in the photos below...



The FREE (!!!) shower at the airport in Korea. I heart Asiana Airlines.



Christmastime fun in the airport! You have to do something to entertain yourselves for 14 hours.

That is, when you aren't taking advantage of the FREE internet!

And FREE bench to (try to) sleep on!


Crazed. On the (chicken) bus to Siem Reap from Phnom Penh. 6 hours...


Time for a coffee!


The view on the road to Siem Reap...

Oh, you just wait til we get to Angkor Wat...

Bear butt, meet Krista.

Being a dork sitting outside of the Warehouse.

The agony and the ecstasy...

Our Regal Beagle.

Good guys, finished.