The Cade Parade

Halong Bay

lindsaycade — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 14:37:57 -0500

After a few lazy days in Hanoi, we were off to Halong bay, a UNESCO world heritage site and probably the #1 tourist attraction in Vietnam. These tours were as common as scooters, especially in the tourist district, but we took one recommended by our guesthouse hosts for two nights. Ours was all inclusive of 6 meals, 2 nights and an activity on the second day.

Early on our appointed morning we were whisked away in a packed minibus (that’s why I had to leave adorable english speaking girl) (and which also became more packed for part of the ride because the driver wordlessly stopped to pick up a Vietnamese woman and her child under an overpass and drive her along for awhile and just as wordlessly dropped her off somewhere en route) on the 2 hour drive to the bay.

We arrived, after a souvenir shopping break thinly disguised as a toilet break, to an absolutely huge, just-built glass and concrete complex that was the headquarters of all of the Halong bay tours. Since the activity became so popular, the operations are now heavily regulated by the government and they all must leave from the same place at the same time and have the same rules. We sat in a waiting area for a few minutes while some embarrassingly rowdy American teenagers, clouds of cheap Bia Hoi floating around them, chest bumped and yelled drawled english at each other.

The arranged activity for every tour (including our rambunctious American friends) on the first afternoon was visiting the “Surprising Caves” and kayaking. We walked through the caves, which were named surprising because each of the three caverns as you go through gets larger and larger. To be fair, the last one was impressively large. Also surprising: the lighting choices.

Then we had an arranged activity of kayaking where we sat in a leaky fiberglass kayak and paddled around the bay in a puddle of water, barely avoiding crashing in to the hordes of other tour groups doing exactly the same thing (Obviously, previous kayakers had not avoided skewering other kayaks (or things) because the tip on both ends of our kayak was broken off. Hence the puddle of water). The waters were a circus of activity, crisscrossed in all directions by clueless tourists in yellow and red kayaks while the countless junks formed a guard ring around the bay to prevent us from escaping.

So anyway, the caves were nice but the whole area was a roiling hotbed of tourists, everyone’s favorite place to be. I know it’s mine. So I wasn’t too sad when our allotted time was up and we were shepherded back to the larger boat to clean up and prepare for dinner.

Dinner was nice and served family style so we got to know some other people on the cruise. At our table was a German couple who were vacationing from their jobs at BMW and an international steel reseller. Also aboard was a married New Zealand couple who were sheep farmers and who saved up for a vacation each year in an exotic country where they could drink themselves silly, and an Asian-American from Texas who looked, acted, and sounded a lot like a friend I have, including having the same name. There were also three guys with an extremely heavy British accent. I basically couldn’t understand them. They kept mostly to themselves and their “girlfriends” who all who happened to be asian with heavy Thai accents and tiny clothes. Just sayin’.

Funny story: We thought it would be nice to have some wine on the boat and the boat, of course, sold wine, but at $40 a bottle we weren’t sure whether it would be worth it. So as luck would have it a tiny woman in a tiny canoe comes paddling up with all sorts of things heaped in it, most prominently Oreos, beer, and wine. This wine was only $15 and of course you can get very reasonable wines for $15*. We surrendered our 20 bazillion dong into her proffered basket ended stick and she shuttled up the wine. It was authentic Vietnamese red wine which we now know tastes like vinegar. We couldn’t even get the happily drunk New Zealanders to take it. Not worth it.

So the next morning we had our kayak portion of the trip. I was a bit skeptical because my upper body strength is about equal to that of a hamster and kayaking all day sounds like something that I wouldn’t exactly excel at. But somehow we had signed up for this, so off we went in our kayaks, Jason and I in one and our guide in the other.

Well, despite all of my nay-saying, this was the absolute best part of the trip. First, we were alone. The first day there were other junks in every direction, as well as the other guests on your boat. But in the kayaks, we left all of them behind. There were no other group members who chose that itinerary so we were alone with our guide. And similar to our Laos kayaking trip, once you get down so close to the water, everything takes on a new, more impressive perspective. Everything is seen on a grander scale. The rocks that the ship couldn’t approach too closely you’re now right underneath, dragging your hand along the pocked surface and marveling at how much taller they’ve become. The diagonal striations of the rock which looked so delicate from the deck are now wider than your body. The distance between the islands that seemed so puny is now a gaping chasm through which your poor arms have to paddle.

The water was different too. Closer to the shores, the murky green water gave way to shallow and clear pools where the shapes of pebbles formed and then shellfish** and wee spiky sea urchins and tiny crabs. Our guide gingerly scooped a sea urchin out of the water and placed it on our boat to inspect. It didn’t do very much I love being able to inspect animals close up***. In the deeper, murkier waters we would also occasionally see jellyfish lurking under the surface. What amazing and alien creatures. I tried to poke one with a paddle (gently!) but it’s really hard to precisely control a kayak when there’s a current and the jellyfish is moving too. Unless you’re our guide. Then you’re a pro.

(^This photo gets a caption because you might not be able to tell, but that ghostly form is a jellyfish!)

The best part, though, were some lagoons that were reachable only through small rock tunnels that a large ship could never get through and might even have a hard time spotting. Drifting through the passages, we remained quiet and listened to the plinking water and the echoes of our paddle strokes and marveled at the water-pocked form of the rocks above us. Through the otherworldly passage we entered picture perfect lagoons where the sun filtered through the dense jungle on top and shone on still waters. No people in sight. No boats. Only the occasional remnant of a campfire to remind us we weren’t the only people in the world to discover it.

We arrived back on the main boat to a different crowd of people, had dinner, and immediately fell asleep from the exertion of the day. The next morning we were shepherded into other group activities—a hike to the top of Cat Ba Island and a “demonstration” about how to make spring rolls****. We were shuttled back to the docks and back to loud, hectic Hanoi, wondering how the calm, majestic island peaks we experienced in the kayaks could exist so close to such chaos and how long they could last.

*In the US.

**Farming oysters is a lucrative livelihood for many people that live in Halong bay. In some of the sheltered coves they grow naturally and you can stick your hand down and grab one. Don’t do that, though. They are sharp. I cut myself.

***Except spiders.

****Another story: at our lunch table that day were a high ranking US military husband and Kyrgyzstani lawyer wife. This guy (claimed he) had two passports, one obtained illegally in Kyrgyzstan so he could travel “off the US government’s record” and had advised some very, very high ranking officials against certain actions that had turned out catastrophic to the US. He looked like Tony Stark.

Hanoi

lindsaycade — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 05:23:00 -0400

The morning after that fateful bus ride, we woke up and I decided I was definitely sick. That day all we did was find some food (which promptly decided to exit via the shortest route possible) and discover the wonder that is Vietnamese coffee. That would be a special roast of finely ground Vietnamese coffee beans with (sweetened) condensed milk. We were a bit skeptical when we dipped our spoon in the cup and it came out covered with white goop. But one taste and we were converts for life. It is a drink of pure joy.

(^ This lady is probably dreaming of Vietnamese coffee)

The rest of our time was spent wandering around the “old quarter” of the city, fending off scammers, figuring out what the Vietnamese eat for breakfast (pho topped the survey for every meal but that can’t be right…), blowing our respective noses, and searching for an excuse to get out of the sun. We were terrible tourists in Hanoi. We went to the temple in the middle of the lake and the water puppet show (recommended for silly fun). We didn’t even go to either of the two huge complexes dedicated to Ho Chi Minh, who is regarded as the father of modern Vietnam. And one of them even has a fake cave hideout supposed to be modeled after what it’s like to be in Ho Chi Minh’s brain so…we missed out big time.

(^ Water puppet show. It’s not a euphemism. They’re actually in water. The puppets. Not the orchestra.)

But overall, Hanoi defeated us. We couldn’t get excited about the specialized market streets the Lonely Planet raved about. Fish for sale in buckets didn’t get us going. Huge warehouses full of cheap clothes and electronics couldn’t get us out of our funk. After the mild mannered and friendly Thai and Lao people, the frenetic pace of Hanoi was too much for us. We wandered in a dazed haze of mild sickness and apathy. The mediocre post and photographs with no focal point reflect our experience in the city.

(^ Above, the street dedicated to Chinese party supplies. Right, buckets full of fish. And sea urchins, maybe.)

But some interesting anecdotes:

(^ This is not the shrine in question. This was in the middle of the lake. On an island.)

Since I was sick, we arranged our schedule to stay at our guesthouse in Hanoi a few nights more that were originally unplanned. Our room was reserved by someone else for those extra nights, but the hosts were very accommodating and put us in their private guest room. We stayed there the first night (after the bus ride) but the morning after, they sat us down and had this conversation with us:

Host Wife: So, the room you’re staying in is our parents’ room. That is where they stay when they come to visit.

Us: Oh…OK, well let us know if they are coming, we would be happy to move, of course.

Host Wife: Did you see the altar by the door to your room?

Us: Yes. It’s very…nice…?

Host Wife: That is for my parents. That room is where they conceived me.

Us: Oh! … wow.

Host Wife: That room is very sacred place.

Us: Oh…so…should we leave?

Host Wife: Very sacred.

Us:…

Host Husband: What she means is that you are forbidden to have sex there.

Us: OH! Uhh ok, sure, no problem.

Host Wife: I didn’t tell you last night because you looked so tired from the bus ride, but now I tell you.

Us: Yeah ok…no problem.

So that happened.

(^ Incense in front of the temple in the middle of the lake. But similar to the incense burned in the conception shrine. I didn’t take a picture of that because I didn’t know if it was allowed…)

=======

(^ Above, Jason paying USD 0.20 for both of our bus tickets. Right, a picture of us in front of nothing that identifies it as in Hanoi.)

Our guesthouse was a bit out of downtown which was wonderful to be free of all the hawkers and people trying to rip you off (mostly), but meant we had to take a bus to get into town. That was fine, and easy, but once we got on the bus going the wrong way around its loop and decided to stay on it all the way around just to see some more of the city. A plan only slightly foiled by the rain/dirt sludge covering the windows. But from what we could see, the city in the huge loop taken by the bus looked exactly the same. Just streets full of scooters and lined with strip malls. Hanoi seemed to be one giant strip mall. Do all cities look like that on a bus? No distinct neighborhoods, just sameness? We were both in awe and slightly frightened by the sheer homogeneity of the city.

(^ Actually most of the bus ride didn’t look like this, so…I guess it’s not ALL the same…)

======

We saw two American movies in Hanoi because we were sick and we were lazy tourists. Outside the theater was a ban mi cart and Jason had basically one goal when going to Vietnam, and that would be to eat ban mi. There were lots of signs we saw saying ban me, but none of them had any sandwich supplies anywhere in sight so we shied away (WHY WOULD THEY HIDE THEM?!). This one, though, had everything on display, including a doner kebab and a steady clientele. So we risked some street food and got one (each) and BOY WAS IT WORTH IT. Doner kebab meat on a crispy fresh French baguette with…some…things (pickled beets were a part of it, and mayo?). MMMmmm one of the best meals we’ve had on our trip.

( ^ This is the one. Look, he’s even wearing a glove. Nothing to be worried about. )

======

Though the guidebook entries of many countries say that locals are eager to come up and talk to foreigners to practice English, the only place we’ve ever experienced this was Hanoi. We had one student approach us on a bus ride and make small talk, saying she was studying tourism and hospitality in university. The other happened when I was running to a convenience store quickly to find snacks for yet another bus ride and the daughter of the owner started talking to me in the most adorable english. She said hello, how are you, where are you from, and do you like sports. I was a bit puzzled by the last question since I don’t imagine I immediately come off as athletic, but I figured later on that she learned these questions in school and just asked what she knew. I was immediately smitten with this girl but unfortunately we were running late for aforementioned bus ride and so I had to run.

( ^ This bird tried to speak to me, but it’s English was not very good. The Vietnamese people’s English was much better. )

======

In our wanderings we passed a guy in a serious business military uniform crouched down on the sidewalk making silly cute noises at one of the numerous street cats. Silly cat noises are universal!

(^ All these people are looking for cats)

=======

Addendum: Literally right after I published this, this article came up on my blog reader about a much better writer’s impression of Hanoi.

Getting to Hanoi...

lindsaycade — Mon, 08 Oct 2012 13:05:54 -0400

Hanoi was a bit dull for us.

To be fair, it was probably our fault—after enduring a grueling 21 hour bus ride (laying down, no less) and us both catching colds, we were not too excited about exploring. (Side note: isn’t it interesting how completely your experience in a place depends on your mood and emotional context? It’s all relative.)

But the bus ride to get there was quite an experience…

The bus left Luang Prabang at the perfectly reasonable time of 8pm and began its twisting journey through the mountains of northern Laos. But we were in Phonsavan and so we got on the bus at 2am.

As we sleepily stumbled on to the bus, our bags were instantly enveloped by the amoebic arms of the crowd in the aisle, to be digested in the unknowable depths of the bus. Meanwhile, two Vietnamese men slid out of our (reserved) seats and handed us our helpfully unpackaged and pre-warmed blankets.

Eventually we settled in and forced ourselves into an uneasy slumber even though something was apparently hilarious in the aisle all night. At least there wasn’t any karaoke (more on this later…). Just as it was dawn was breaking, the bus pulled over at the Laos-Vietnam border crossing. We all had to get our passports stamped out of Laos, walk to the Vietnamese side, and get stamped in, although none of this was clear at the time since no one was attending the crossing. So a bus load full of people was loitering around the border office in the cold, foggy Vietnamese morning, envious of those who were passing on the motorbikes that were small enough to fit around the barricade. During this time we also had a chance to discover that there were several roosters in baskets riding with us on the bus who were happily using this break to stretch their legs and vocal chords (do roosters have vocal chords? Anyway, they were loud.).

Finally the immigration officers arrived and everyone flocked to the counter. Apparently all of these men were math experts because they managed to simultaneously solve a complex problem minimizing the distance between themselves, the immigration officer, and each other. We were secretly excited and eager to show that our time in India had prepared us for things like this—Jason was holding up quite well. But another officer appeared and someone discovered they were there only to process foreigners’ passports and so we were politely encouraged by the other foreigners on the bus to use our special line.

Finally, we had walked to the other side and received our passports back and were all stuck waiting for the bus to cross. I would like to note that although there are NO food stalls (WHAT?!), but there ARE sim cards for sale at the border (so you can call people and tell them how hungry you are). The bus came and we piled on again, chickens and all.

It came to be 5 o’clock, the time our bus was scheduled to arrive in Hanoi (so if you calculate, it was scheduled to be a 15 hour journey), and we were nowhere near close to Hanoi. When we stopped for dinner, Jason and I zig zagged through the street side shops, trying to find a sim card with no local currency and no Vietnamese vocabulary, so we could call our guesthouse owner and tell him we were going to be laaaaaaaate. We managed to exchange some USD for Vietnamese Dong (hah) with some guy in a wife-beater in the front door of his house. I think he even gave us a fair rate. Buy sim, shovel pho, back on the bus.

At this point, we were all weary and bored. It was dark again so it wasn’t even interesting to look out the window. Well, lucky for us, the bus came equipped with Southeast Asian entertainment gold — a karaoke machine. On other bus trips we took around Southeast Asia, there were plenty of karaoke videos. But there was no mic. No one sang. This bus sang. A few bored Vietnamese men came up front and took turns singing to cheesy Vietnamese ballads. An endless parade of melancholy looking boys farming their rice paddies, glimpsing a sad girl farmer on the adjacent field, becoming friends, then being torn apart because their parents didn’t agree. Or something. How can there be so many songs about that??

We got to the bus station around 11pm. Apparently it was a ridiculous bus station and our guesthouse owner was in disbelief that anyone should ever use that bus station ever. We were bombarded with taxi drivers (of course) but we managed to get a fair price because the guesthouse host yelled extensively at the driver basically all the way to his house. Thanks Chezlinhlinh House!

So, 21 hours later, there we were, the historic city of Hanoi.

The grass is greener...

lindsaycade — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 19:17:49 -0400

The next day, we set out earlier to try to hit up the Plain of Jars sites two and three. After only a few wrong turns we made it to site 2, parked our bike (there was only one other bike there, presumably that of the desk guard) and approached the extremely bored looking desk attendant. He didn’t speak any english but no matter, it was pretty obvious what we were there for.

We wandered over to the area with the jars and it was absolutely more magical than the first site. The site was filled with trees whose leaves the light filtered through, changing from minute to minute, and as we wandered around, each new turn surprised us with a new arrangement of these ancient monuments.

Eventually we had wandered for about ten minutes (down a clearly marked with MAG bricks) path without seeing any more jars or an end to the path. Jason remembered reading about a an easy trail, suitable for families, that linked sites 2 and 3 so we presumed we were on this and decided to see where it led.

The trail winded along the ridge line of hills and through copses of trees. The scenery was SO SO lovely. Whenever we had told people we were going to Laos, we always heard “OH! It’s so beautiful!” and sort of dismissed it as the same as any countryside that could be considered beautiful. But the hills of northern Laos had some extra enchantment and I think it was related to the green color that imbued the land.

After both individually thinking it, I tentatively said I thought perhaps the green of the plants in Laos was different than other places we’ve seen and he quickly agreed that he too thought it was somehow greener green here. It’s unanimous*, the grass is greener in Laos.

(this picture has NO color editing. Besides a crop, it is straight out of the camera)

So after at least two hours of walking we had not found the next jar site and the MAG brick pathway was still going. Whoever thought this was a “short” hike that was “great” for “kids” has perhaps Laoatian definitions of “short” (similar to it’s opinion of green) and super human children.

(Also, magenta dirt. True story)

Nevertheless, we continued on, figuring we MUST be close to the missing third site. And then we reached a fence. There was no discernible trail continuing on the other side of the fence and more importantly, no MAG bricks in sight. We watched those videos. No thank you, blowing up. We wandered up and down the fence line, on a well tread path, nodded to two farmers, watched them dwindle in to the distance, kicking ourselves for not trying to ask them where the third site was or if we were close. We wandered some more. We crossed the fence and wandered through some poor farmer’s rice field filled with his cows (sticking very carefully to places where there were footprints…). We backtracked, looking for the slight white glint in the grass that would tip us off to the next brick.

(our favorite field of cows)

We were pretty desperate. We had come all this way and had basically decided we would try to get a ride back to site two (where we had left our motorbike) once we found the third one (IF we found the third one) because we were tired, rain was imminent, and it would be dark by the time we got back. Oh, and if we wandered around too much we might explode. But we lost the trail!

AAGGGHHHHHHHHHH almost sufficiently describes the frustration and worry we felt.

Jason had noticed this strange formation of stumps on the fence line, which he pointed out and I cleverly ignored. After exploring every other possibility, Jason came back to this weird arrangement and climbed over it to find…THE NEXT BRICK. OH, JOY! Such RELIEF we felt finding the trail again and being able to continue. The bamboo stumps were meant to be STEPS, and for those of you who want puzzle video game experiences IRL, this is about as close as it gets. Video games aren’t as fun, though, when you and not your onscreen doppleganger legitimately might explode.

(click image for larger version)

So on we went, through another farmer’s field, and eventually we reached a village. There were some huts and a school building and some turkeys. We saw an old couple cleaning their porch (for a very loose definition of porch) or something and tried to politely interrupt them and ask where we might go. They apparently understood something because they pointed in some direction that led us eventually back to the bricks and ooooooon we went some more.

Finally we see the entrance to the third site! Again, elation!! And even better, the site entrance is flanked by a hut serving food! OH, YES. We sat our exhausted and relieved fannies down and ordered up two of the house special (chicken pho, surprise) and some waters. If we were in a video game, this is when our health bar would refill. While the group of ladies watched Lao soap operas on the tiny television, we slurped our noodles and tried to figure out a way to get out of walking all the way back. No English was spoken by the attendants and our “hello” and “thank you” in Lao wouldn’t quite cut it.

(click image for larger version)

A van pulled up and out poured several men. This was our chance, we thought. We were waiting for an opportunity to approach the group and then the van pulled away. Urk.

The men left (somewhere?) and so eventually we had to approach the ladies. I mimed the best I could that we would want to have a ride back to site two and she did a REALLY GOOD mime of not having any idea what I was talking about. But she kindly kept trying to understand and eventually (perhaps shortly after money was brought up) we seemed to come to an arrangement that she would call her husband who would bring a motorbike and we could ride with them back for USD 10 each (also, can we just take a moment and appreciate how much can be communicated through mime? AMAZING!). USD 10 is a big deal in Laos but we were so grateful that (we thought) she understood and so tired and not wanting to be stuck hiking in the dark, and also USD 10 is not that big of a deal to us, that we agreed. While her husband was on the way we hiked the short distance up to site three which was perched on top of a hill. The views were lovely once again and the jars were more densely configured than the other sites. It was like a little forest of mysterious stone pots.

So we returned to the food hut just as the husband pulls up. Joy. A bit of confusion when I thought we were all three riding on his bike but after laughs for all, Jason and I got on the husband’s and wife’s bike respectively. We puttered through all sorts of pitted, muddy, dirt and gravel roads for about 30 minutes and began to grasp why it wasn’t so unreasonable to charge us $10. We also began to grasp how terrible the suspension and engine was on our rented bike (the speedometer on ours that didn’t go above 40 should have been a clue…).

Finally, finally, we pulled back into the parking area of site two. The attendant absolutely lit up when he saw us coming in. It was wonderful for us to have someone so happy to see us return! We don’t get that often on our travels. He explained to us (again in mime) that he was waiting and waiting for us to come back. He wondered what happened to us since no one ever takes that long to see the jar site. Did we get lost? Wander into a hole? He was bewildered and worried (Easy to mime :) ). The lovely husband and wife who brought us back explained their side of the story (presumably) to the guard and many laughs were had by all. The silly tourists, the kind-hearted bike owners and the worried guard. The story was repeated several times between the guard and the bikers and hysterical laughing surrounded us so what could we do but laugh along.

It was pretty funny. We’re pretty sure the three of them invited us to have drinks with them at the site two food hut but we were so tired and intimidated by the language barrier (and also our bike was due back) that we quickly declined and headed off back to town. I rather regret not taking them up on their offer, now; it seems like it could have been an even better ending to the story. But such is the way of things and we had a plenty good story already.

Epilogue: We made it back to town as it was becoming dusk and just before the deadline for our bike rental was due. The owner welcomed us back and gave us back our passport and sent us on our way without ever inspecting the bike for damage. Hah. That explains why it was such an ill maintained bike. :)

*with an n of 2

(click image for larger version)

bonus exhausted Lindsay

Legacy of the "Secret War"

lindsaycade — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 19:24:00 -0400

Our first stop in the plain of jars was the creatively named “Site 1”. It is the closest to Phonsavan and has the largest number of “jars”. We took our sketchy rented motorbike out and wandered around the site for a bit. When we went, it was nearing dusk, and the most impressive cloud formations lumbered through the sky.

Just before we left, we stopped by one of the museums on the main road which happened to be about the unexploded ordnance (for those like me who are not up on their military terms, ordnance means shells containing explosives—in this case, bombs and mines) in Laos.

We learned that Laos is the most bombed country in the world per capita, with more than two million tons being dropped over 9 years. Two million tons of of bombs is the equivalent of of a plane-load of bombs every eight minutes for the entire nine years of the “secret war”.

Typing numbers in words is not as effective as being there and watching videos and seeing bomb craters, and certainly I have not a phantom of an idea compared to those who lived through it, but just think about that for a minute.

A plane full of bombs every eight minutes for nine years? Saying “that’s terrible!” just doesn’t quite cut it.

And who did this atrocious thing? The United Sates. And it was kept secret from the American public and even Congress. And directly violated the 1962 Geneva Accords which established Laos as a neutral territory. I can’t say I remember much from my last US history class (sorry Mrs. Pennington), but I definitely don’t remember learning about this. Once it became known in the US, it was named the “secret war” for obvious reasons.

Up to thirty percent of the dropped ordnance didn’t explode when it hit the ground, leaving loads of unexploded bombs all over Laos. The bombs are no longer falling out of the sky, but the people of Laos still have to deal with those 9 years every day.

And let’s think about this for a minute.

If you’re a farmer in Laos (and in Laos you probably are) maybe you need to plow another field to provide enough rice for your family. The land is unclaimed! But every slice that plow makes through untested earth is another chance for an explosion.

Maybe, since you’re afraid to plow new fields, you decide to collect and sell scrap metal, of which there is plenty around, to raise money for your family. But the scrap metal is from bomb shells and it is impossible to know whether they have detonated.

Maybe you have children! Your children love to run around, explore, and make up games, as children do. But when they come across a small, bright yellow ball in the woods (of which there are many), it turns out to be an explosive.

This information was shocking and poignant. Before we went to Phonsavan neither of us had any idea that this was such an heavy problem or even that the problem existed at all. The museum, and especially the free videos they show each day (if you go, check the door for a schedule), were definitely an eye opening experience. While exploring later, our feelings of curiosity and wonder for the ancient monuments tumbled with trepidation of our surroundings and a sadness for the hurt that these people had sustained for over 30 years.

We obviously managed not to explode, and that is largely due to the efforts the Mines Advisory Group (MAG), an international not-for-profit organization dedicated to clearing mines and UXO. The organization has been clearing ordnance in Laos since 2004 and included the three Jar sites in it’s program. Around each site is a sparse outline of bricks, and each brick displays a MAG symbol and is half white and half red. The land on the white side of the brick has officially been cleared and that on the red side has not.

Don’t cross the bricks.

Fond of Phonsavan

lindsaycade — Wed, 05 Sep 2012 09:07:00 -0400

So actually we didn’t go to Vietnam right away. We went on to Phonsavan, Laos for a few days where there wasn’t a consulate, so we couldn’t get our visa there.

Phonsavan is a town in the north of Laos that is known to tourists only for being close to the Plain of Jars site. We planned to stay there for a few nights as a base for exploring this ancient and mysterious landmark.

After surviving our harrowing 6 hour, stuffed, minibus ride over often unpaved roads through the mountains of Laos from Luang Prabang, we ate my favorite phờ of the trip (including from Vietnam) at the town’s Vietnamese restaurant, and went back to our hotel looking forward to a relaxing evening to recover.

But instead we heard some loud party music coming from somewhere nearby. We asked the hotel clerk about it and he apologized profusely saying there is a concert for the town but it won’t last late and it is only one night.

On the contrary, it certainly piqued our curiosity. What would a Lao concert be like?

We went to check it out and there was a whole fair set up around a stage (which was very visibly sponsored by Nestle). Popcorn booths, fair games, a bouncy castle (check out all those copyright violations!), and even a ferris wheel were set up.

Color us surprised.

We wandered around the stands enjoying the quietly festive atmosphere. Here, like India, people seemed very interested in us (possibly me and my freakish lightness). I would see people tracking us when they thought we weren’t looking, sometimes even tapping their friends and pointing. When I glanced towards them, though, even with a smile, they would lower their eyes and look away.

At one point there was a crowd gathering in front of the stage in anticipation of the main act and we wandered up through the throng. A group of young men were obviously excited to see us (me?) and were giggling and not-too-subtly pointing and casting glances our way. I pretended to not see it for awhile but eventually when one of them looked again, I smiled and said hello in Lao. They immediately fell silent and wouldn’t look back. I didn’t follow up.

But unlike India, the people were shy and subtle (more subtle than India, anyway) about staring. In India, a person would stare at you from the time they saw you until you disappeared off the horizon. Even if you met their gaze and stared back at them, they would keep looking. Imagine that happening on the subway in Boston/any American city. There would be altercations.

It made me uncomfortable in India (especially coming from Boston), but the shy attitude of the Laos’ staring made all the difference. I felt that instead of of a hostile stare it was an interested, friendly stare, and who isn’t be fond of that?

This is one of the reasons that, even though guidebooks and travel sites say that Phonsavan isn’t set up for tourists yet, it was my favorite town we visited in Laos. The main tourist strip was dirt paved and contained all of the scant tourist facilities of the town—two tour agencies, a few hotels, two museums related to unexploded ordnance (UXO—more on this later), and a restaurant serving “western” food. I think it was because the town, without tourist infrastructure, was so unpretentious. All of our interactions with the local people were overwhelmingly friendly. It seemed like they were all so pleased to have us in their town and to have our business—a stark contrast to the dour service in tourism driven towns like Siem Reap and Venice.

For instance, one lady who ran a balloon-dart game gave me a second try at the game for free after I missed ALL of the balloons with all five darts. And even when, after throwing twice as many darts as allowed, I only popped 2 balloons (umm, so turns out I’m terrible at this game), she gave us TWO prizes—cans of Vietnamese soda. I don’t know what the burst-balloon-to-prize threshold was since we had no language in common. But the guy who went before me popped all five balloons and also got a soda.

SCORE!!!!

Things like this are such small gestures but can you imagine getting a game for free at an American carnival? Even if you were a bumbling foreigner? And then TWO free prizes for being terrible? No way!

In Phonsavan, people went out of their way to make us feel welcome and comfortable. It was a wonderful experience and if you go to Laos, I would definitely recommend stopping by for a few days.

BAG DRINKS (part 2)

lindsaycade — Tue, 21 Aug 2012 18:47:41 -0400

Remember when I praised putting drinks in bags and promised an even AWESOME-ER idea??

Well that time is here and though I’d been wanting one since Bangkok, seeing all kinds of folks toting one around, we finally found a place* to get one in Luang Prabang.

Yes, that is Coca Cola and ice in a plastic bag with a straw. The reason they do this is because all of the drinks come in glass bottles which need to be returned to the manufacturer so they can refill them. They even put the ice in an outside bag so as it melts (instantly in the Laotian summer) it doesn’t dilute the soda. Why haven’t we thought of this?

*We realized soon after purchasing this that ANY place that sells drinks in glass bottles (which is all of them) probably does this. The bags just aren’t on display.

We decided to take a guided kayaking trip along the Mekong to the Pak Ou Caves which were supposed...

lindsaycade — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 16:07:18 -0400

We decided to take a guided kayaking trip along the Mekong to the Pak Ou Caves which were supposed to contain some huge number of thousands of Buddhas, a popular trip from Luang Prabang. We were sure to book the half day trip because, due to an unfortunate combination of Vietnamese week long national holidays, weekends, and our travel plans, we HAD to get our Vietnamese visas THAT afternoon.

The morning started by the four tour-ers + two guides being shuttled to the kayak launch site in a minibus. The trip involved pulling in to someone’s private driveway complete with household man in wifebeater, woman holding a baby with a 5 year old zipping around the front, and a money exchange. The kayaks also happened to be stored here and were loaded onto the bus. In the back row Jason and I were invited to try one of the guide’s breakfast of a hunk of smoked pork skin with sticky rice, and after politely declining but encouraged to eat anyway, tried it. It tasted weird and chewy, just like it looked.

Before we got in the boats the guides were sure to make sure we were trained and prepared for all outcomes. Something like this:

Guide: “Have you kayaked before?”

Jason and I: “Yes.”

Guide: “OK, great! Let’s go!”

We climbed in, pushed off, and were on our way! After about ten seconds, we showed our kayaking expertise by getting the boat wedged on some rocks. We masterfully freed ourselves, using mostly the power of our yelling, so finally we were able to get on with the next order of busines—flipping the boat. Yep, within 30 seconds of getting in our boat we fell out. With the help of our guides who dutifully paddled back up stream to help us, we embarrassedly and awkwardly clambered back up and resumed the journey.

I am a bad writer/blogger/traveler and don’t have that much interesting to say about the rest of the journey. I was thinking sometimes about what a different experience you get kayaking rather than taking a motorboat. One difference is the peaceful silence. Another is physical labor, of which we both have different opinions of who did more (me, obviously). Often I was thinking about how incredibly un-cold it was (wet clothing from our “dip” was a blessing for about 10 minutes, until it dried). The parts of the trip I did not spend thinking about the above things, we spent “discussing” how one of us thought our kayak was unsafely tailgating the guide’s while the other thought we should stay close to follow their path exactly to avoid hitting hidden rocks and dumping over again. And also Jason decreasingly politely asking me to repeat myself because I would say things facing forward (I’m always instructed to sit in the front?) because WHO KNEW but when you say things facing the wrong way, the other person can’t hear you. You learn something every day.

Once, and this is one of my favorite memories, there was a shaft of sunlight streaming down on a tuft of plants crowned with wee flowers and a flock of tiny white butterflies flitting around it. I thought groups of butterflies spiraling together around shafts of sunlight over a tuft of flowers were strictly in fairy tale territory, but it’s REAL!

Besides the butterflies, the highlight of the scenery was a towering cliff that we could see from afar and slowly slowly paddled towards. Kayaking allowed us a much closer, slower, and quieter experience with the cliff. It was neat to paddle right up to the side—the previously higher water level had eroded the cliff so there was even an overhang lining the whole cliff to explore. The rock was rippled and pitted in an interesting texture due to the erosion by the Mekong over the ages (no pictures sorry, camera while kayaking = sad camera). The guide also explained there was a story locally that any man wanting to be mayor of the local village could take over, no questions asked, if he proved himself by jumping off the cliff. Apparently nobody became mayor.

The buddha caves were nice. There were lots of Buddhas. Big Buddhas, small Buddhas, gold Buddhas, wood Buddhas, sitting Buddhas, lying Buddhas. The guide told us it used to be a very holy site for locals and they would bring a buddha statue here for luck, but now the tourists are coming and taking pictures all the time so it is not holy any more. Um. Whoops.

After the caves we were escorted to the included lunch which was chicken fried rice and some of the super sweet Southeast Asian bananas. After this we were supposed to split up into the half day and full day tours. The full day-ers were off to have an elephant ride and then kayak some more. We were supposed to be shuttled back to town so we could make it to the Vietnamese consulate by closing time.

SURPRISE! Our guides MOST generously insisted that we could have the full day tour as a FREE UPGRADE (but skip the elephants, those cost more). We politely insisted that while it was a MOST generous offer, we really must be back to town by about 4pm (and it was already past 1pm, the time we were originally promised to get back to town). The problem was, apparently, they could not split the guides and had not planned on us coming back earlier than the others (?). On any other day we would have been perfectly happy accepting the full day tour, but THIS day we needed. to. get. back.

After mentally rearranging our travel plans for the rest of the month to accommodate our late visa, somehow the other two guys agreed to go back with us. I even think they might have been relieved. Or at least they pretended to be a little relieved.

OK! So now we had cut two other guys’ tours in half and we would possibly get back to the town before the consulate closed. All we needed was the van to take us back!

But the van couldn’t reach the lunch site or the kayaks where they were. So we paddled to another landing and then draaaaaaaagged, painfully, inch by inch, the kayaks up this impossibly steep slope made of loose gravel so there could be a road nearby for the van to get to us. It seemed to me like some plastic filled with air that also floats should NOT be that heavy. But it was.

So we were all on our way, everyone feeling terrible. Us because we made the two guys cut short their tour, the guys because we cut short their tour, and the guides were also irritable. I thought maybe they would be happy because they would get a half day off for free, especially since one of them had a sister’s wedding that night(to which he invited two other foreigners at lunch. But not us! How do the other people get invited to random weddings?), but they weren’t. And during all the terrible pot-holed dirt roads and heat of the hour plus van ride back I was trying not to look at the clock (because I have tried to convince myself that when you’re in some transportation that you’re not controlling (train, minibus) it doesn’t matter what time it is) but in my head going over and over the possibility of missing the visa and having to redo our plans. Because, you know, that would be the worst thing EVAR.

When we got back to town we ran back to our hotel (the van dropped the other folks off at their hotel but dropped us off several blocks away for some reason. My guess is they didn’t want to pass the tour agency and let them know they were off the clock) quickly changed clothes and ran back outside to one of the ridiculous rainbow rickshaws and directed him towards the consulate. But of course he didn’t know where the consulate was so there had to be a lengthy discussion among all the rickshaw drivers in the area, including some passing by, about where the consulate was. Ever so slowly, some consensus was reached and we were on our way!

We arrived and were relieved to see the gates still open and hurried inside. There were exactly no other people waiting so we just went to the desk, paid our $75US, waited 15 minutes, and THERE THEY WERE.

VIETNAM, HERE WE COME.

Luang Prabang, Laos

lindsaycade — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 17:11:31 -0400

Luang Prabang was our second destination in Laos. We arrived at 7am from an overnight bus and wandered around the bright, awakening town trying to find our guest house.The main tourist drag was right on the Mekong riverfront and was scattered with guesthouses and al fresco tourist cafes, each tantalizingly promising fresh baguettes, thanks to their previous French occupation. The cobblestoned streets were lined with trees and the occasional temple, and locals were hanging out on their porch or in the corner noodle stand. The air was fresh and cool thanks to the rain during the night (which also happened to soak our suitcases stored in the bottom of the bus).

We found our guesthouse and explained to a sweeping maid, who I’m sure spoke no English, that we had made a reservation and yes, we were here really early but was it possible that we might get access to our room if it was available? She stared wide-eyed for a bit then scurried back to wake up the owners who, in the most groggy fashion, showed us our room and promptly went back to sleep. We were more than happy to set our damp (thanks to the unsealed cargo compartment on the bus) bags down and fall into bed to recover from our harrowing bus ride.

Once we were sufficiently awake, we spent our several days lazily wandering about the quiet town. There aren’t too many sites in Luang Prabang and none take too long to visit, so we didn’t feel pressured to rush around. Each of the main roads had many little cross roads connecting between them, often not even wide enough for a car. These cobblestone streets were filled with leaf filtered sunlight and old colonial French architecture. It was a pleasure just wandering and discovering what new picturesque scene would pop up around the next corner. The long, narrow strip catering to tourists was much more low key than most other countries we’d been to and we enjoyed taking numerous breaks under the pretense of getting out of the heat for super cheap fruit smoothies and various snacks. Between fruit smoothies and noodle soup we toured a few temples and wandered the night market, which was once again calm and reasonable. And full of beautiful textiles.

But the food situation in Laos was not our favorite. The flavor pallet for Laotian food was at once strange and bland. A bitter-tangy flavor was present in most dishes, due to galangal root, a relative of ginger. Twice I got “classic” Laos dish recommended by a server (my favorite technique). The first was OK, but didn’t have too much substance—a plate of dry seaweed squares topped with sesame seeds, with a traditional chili dipping paste and some sticky rice (eaten with your hands). Not terrible but not inspiring either. The second was a Laotian curry (the orange one), recommended enthusiastically by the restaurant’s waitress/cook/mom. I agreed and when it arrived I found two things objectionable. One was that it had salmon in it, but that could be overlooked since it’s not her fault that I didn’t specify no fish. The other was that immediately upon opening the lid of the bowl I saw four little insects dead on top. Ok, so that’s not the end of the world when you’re touring in Southeast Asia. But when I looked closer, I saw a tiny maggot. And another. And another. My soup was full of little worms.

I didn’t eat it. I called the husband/neighborhood afternoon drunk over and showed him there was maggots in my soup (without English). He picked one up, carefully inspected it, and squished it between his fingers. Yelled something at the kitchen and walked off. For a while we thought perhaps we would get another, fresh curry, and the resident daughter even seemed to run off to the market on her bike. But we didn’t see them again until we asked for the bill and yet he looked quite confused when he was clearing the table and none of my curry was eaten. Hmmm.

A third instance of weird food in Laos was terrible beyond anything I had imagined anyone ate ever, and we did NOT order it. But I took a picture of the menu.

So that’s a thing.

Although we did not get sick in Laos, after these experiences, we ate a lot of noodle soup (kind of like these people). Noodle soup is good. And clear. So you can see the constituents.

But really, it was a lovely town. We would definitely recommend hanging out for a few relaxed days. Just watch your food.

oh en ee

lindsaycade — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 11:31:00 -0400

August 6th dawned chilly and rainy in Ebersbach an der Fils, Germany, but for us it was a special day—our one year wedding anniversary. That’s right, the big OH EN EE.

While this isn’t as impressive as anyone who’s ever been married longer than a year, it’s been a good year and full of A LOT of things. That day seems both like yesterday and a thousand years ago.

But, in fact, the wedding seems to have prepared us for many of the emotions we’ve felt over the past year traveling even though it was all in one place on one day.

Sometimes we were overjoyed:

Sometimes Jason is ridiculous:

Sometimes things come flying at us and hit us in the face:

Sometimes we do silly things:

Sometimes we EAT! (ok, we do that a lot…)

Sometimes I misbehave. No links for this because there is no evidence PROBABLY BECAUSE IT’S NOT TRUE.

And sometimes…

…ok, this never happens.

But always this:

Anyway, the first year, while not without hardships, has been wonderful overall and we look forward to many more!

All photos by the amazing and beautiful Hanlon-Fiske studios.

The main cities (or towns really) of Laos are often described as “sleepy” and...

lindsaycade — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 04:18:04 -0400

The main cities (or towns really) of Laos are often described as “sleepy” and immediately upon arriving, we could understand why. There was no need for drivers to weave through traffic because there was only a couple of other cars in sight. The roads and sidewalks were wide, but they were almost empty. Coming from “megacities” like Delhi and Bangkok, the scarcity of people was striking. But it’s easy to understand why—there’s just not that many people. In all of Laos there are about as many people as living in all of Laos than in Bangkok alone (6 million).

And while I’m sure there are stressed out people in a hurry somewhere in Laos, we sure didn’t see any. The construction workers we saw always seemed to be on a tea break. The tents of the night market, laid out on the banks of the Mekong, were spread wide apart and the owners chatted jovially among themselves rather than haranguing tourists—a quiet reflection of those hectic events in Thailand. In an effort to realize my dream of owning a huge rip-off DVD collection I bought a rip of the Hunger Games. It didn’t work. At least that is constant throughout Southeast Asia.

To be honest, Vientiane did not make much of an impression on me (us?). It was quiet, for a city, and sprawling, with lots of new construction. To be good sports, wefollowed most of the walking tour laid out in the LP guide and saw many temples and the main monuments. The Buddhist temples were old and impressively decorated and the Pha That Luang (big gold stupa) was very impressive. But Laos is in a state of change and expansion, figuring out where it belongs in the Southeast Asian ecosystem and the world. signs of an ancient culture in flux. The Patuxai monument, modeled after the Arc de Triomphe but covered in Buddhist mythological creatures, is a strange thing to see amongst the majestic temples built 400 years earlier (it was started in 1957 as a dedication to those who fought in the independence war with France). Construction sites also dotted the city, promising modernity, even if the country isn’t quite sure what to do with it yet.

I must also mention that it was very hot, a constant theme throughout our travels this summer. I learned quickly that if I kept explaining to Jason what I thought of the weather (it was hot) with the urgency with which I felt it (it was hot all the time) then we would talk of nothing else. So I tried to bear it in silence. Somewhat successfully.

A cool photo of the funicular tunnel in Taksim, Istanbul.

lindsaycade — Wed, 04 Jul 2012 11:41:29 -0400

A cool photo of the funicular tunnel in Taksim, Istanbul.

Well, since this is my blog and you don’t have a choice on...

jasonpmorrison — Sat, 30 Jun 2012 10:21:00 -0400

Well, since this is my blog and you don’t have a choice on which one is first, I’ll give you the bad news.

The bad news is that something is wrong with my computer (yes dad,I know how terrible you think Apple products are). It won’t even boot up to the Apple start screen where the glowing Apple seems to reveal a glimpse into Apple heaven and the startup noise announces like a host of angels that wonderful things await within.

No, it won’t even give me that.

In between bouts of crippling grief, I search for the ubiquitous silver lining and luckily have found some. The first is that the problem seems to be so low level that the hard drive and therefore all of my pictures should be intact (although it certainly slows down my editing process…).

The second is that we are living for two weeks basically in paradise. You probably haven’t heard of Gümüşlük, Turkey (neither had we) and by looking at the name you might not think it’s that great of a place. But it is.

We are watching the house and pets of some lovely retired Brits and they have the most beautiful cottage ten minutes walk from the shore. There is a sort of brushy cliff overlooking the ocean where there is a perfect view of the sunset and lots of rocks to climb on and loads of interesting new plant types (yep, I’m a nerd) (including one that branches at 120°angles and looks like CHEMISTRY). The weather is perfect in the morning and evening and it won’t rain until September. Everyone we’ve met is so friendly.

It is so wonderful to be in this quiet town in a quiet house (of our own!) with some lovely pets again. We really needed this rest.

These pictures I’ve taken around the town. I also just downloaded instagram so…forgive me for that. Most pictures are self explanatory but the dog is our delinquent four-month-old ward Molly, and the collection of random stuff is fragments of old pottery and glass that have washed up on the nearby shores (except the one with fish painted on it). Which, according to our archaeologist hosts are likely from the Greek or Roman era, making them over 2000 years old. How many people have 2000 year old artifacts on their mantles? AMAZING! (for bigger picture sizes, click on one and use your arrow keys to switch photos)

It's not always fun

lindsaycade — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 16:11:00 -0400

Well, Jason and I have finally settled down for longer than 3 days and so I’m going through kajillions of photos and reading through my notes trying to compose new stories out of quickly fading memories.

After Thailand, our first stop was Vientiane in Laos. But our arrival in Laos was not a happy one.

The overnight train was perfectly fine, and was made more amusing by the waitress insisting that we order beers, us both ordering one even though I don’t like beer, and finding out the beers are about 1L. Jason took it upon himself to drink both and then decided another one was a fantastic idea. At one point the waitress said “cha-cha” which we, given our ballroom dancing background, thought a particularly hilarious thing to say, and started us fancifully imagining that perhaps she was a ballroom enthusiast as well, only to days later find out that it meant “wait 5 minutes”.

In the morning we arrived in the Thai border town and shuffled sleepily around trying to sort out where to by the tickets to the shuttle train into Laos. We found it—they were USD 4. Fantastic.

We waited in the immigration line for a while so we could enter that weird in-between area where you’ve exited one country but you haven’t entered the next, and when we got the the desk…

We learned that our visa expired the day before. Not even a day before, 8 hours before. (This is the fault of the leap year and certainly not any oversight on my part.)

So we were escorted from the line by the guard in an official uniform and told we would not be able to get a visa on arrival into Laos with an expired Thai visa over the train crossing, only the road crossing. He hailed a tuk-tuk for us and off we went. I, not expecting any complications did not read much about the process, just that “it was really easy to get a visa on arrival”. What I should have read before we left was the part that you should never get in a tuk-tuk at the Thai border train station because it will almost always end in a giant scam.

We were shuttled around, made to pay over twice the normal amount for a visa (which I accepted because I thought it had something to do with the expired visa penalty (It didn’t. We had to pay $15 each for that at the actual border)) then taken to the border where other people were paying the normal amount. Our chaperone did fill out the forms for us and somehow enabled us to skip the line for immigration, AND the price included a taxi from the border to our hotel, but it was a bitter feeling knowing we were taken advantage of, and it was only multiplied by the exhaustion that only overnight trains can cause (actually mostly I was bitter. Jason seemed ok).

We arrived at the hotel and checked in. Except I had made the reservation for the week before. Even though I’m really sure the hotel was entirely empty, the bumbling desk boy (this sounds mean, but based on our interactions with him for 2 days, bumbling is the nicest possible word for it) would not transfer the money I already paid to the current week so we had to make new reservations and pay again. Since I was the primary planner, I felt responsible for the huge breach of budget that occurred and started sobbing in the lobby.

We got to the room and it was….not as good as I had hoped. The decoration on the peeling yellow walls consisted of a brown handprint behind the door, the window didn’t close, didn’t have a latch, and didn’t have a screen, and there were dead beetles on the floor on one side of the bed. The beetles turned out to be gecko poop (presumably from when they climbed in through the open window) (confused because my eyes were too full of tears to look closely) but it really put me over the top and I just broke down crying. Jason, such a dear, didn’t hold any of it against me and did his best to cheer me up. But I, ever the helpful one, refused to be comforted and fell asleep for several hours.

On awaking I felt a little better and was eventually convinced to go out and seek some dinner.

On the way, as is the case with all the Asian cities we’ve been to, there were lots of surprises. The first was public aerobics classes on the river front.

The second was the dry river. Children were playing on the riverbed and the Mekong was nowhere to be seen. Ok, maybe you can see a little of it in the distance.

So, a few things I learned from this day:

-Like anything else you do all the time, travel is not always fun.

-Sleep affects my mood a LOT.

-Jason is so wonderful. I am so lucky he is my travel partner.

-Do your homework.

The rest of our time in Laos was really wonderful, so stay tuned…

Songkran

lindsaycade — Sun, 03 Jun 2012 04:32:00 -0400

It all started with a trip to the hospital.

Jason was feverish again (now, over one month fever free! cross your fingers!) and so we went to a Bangkok hospital (over here, hospitals are where the general populous go to get medical attention. I don’t think there are PCPs) to try and get it sorted out again. By the time we left the hospital, and coincidentally coinciding with our visit to Au Bon Pan in the lobby, he was miraculously feeling much better and we decided we would walk back to the nearby train station.

We had seen, from afar, cabals of teenagers roaming in the back of pick-ups, yelling at passerbys and indiscriminately attacking pedestrians (with water). We had heard rumors of similar unrest throughout the city but we hoped to avoid it—assuming the tumult would be contained to the locals. We never expected it to get so out of hand.

At 4:39 PM on April 13, 2012 Jason was struck with three bucketloads of water (you can see the perpetrators in the background). We did not immediately take defensive action, but hoped that by allowing this incident one time, we would be exempt from further altercations.

That night, we were proven otherwise. It was time to take matters into our own hands.

The next day we headed to the “ammunition” store where every possible means of throwing water on other people was for sale. Despite the impressive display, it was clear that most of the merchandise had been rifled through, tested and sold already.

We deliberated carefully over which leftover weapon to purchase. Would a huge super-soaker be best? A turtle backpack reservoir for backup water? Neon green, orange, yellow? In the end, we both chose stealthier (read: small and cheap) weapons. Jason opted for a powerful combination with a pistol for each hand and I chose a clever gun which, like those moths that look like eyes or whatever, was designed to intimidate and confuse attackers with an aggressive weird blue cat.

With that we put on our game faces (we are very serious) and headed into the action to get our revenge.

As we stepped off the train and surveyed the station, we were greeted by the sound of distant screams and a pervasive wet smell. There was none of the regular milling about on the train platform. Everyone was single-mindedly heading down to the street with the same purpose: making people wet.

We stopped to survey the scene from the safety of the overpass. What we saw was massive chaos.

(might want to turn the volume down)

Vendors lined the street selling ammunition (water and pricier ice water) for those in the brutal battle and cold beer as a sort of energy elixir for exhausted combatants. Observing the crowd from above, an unknown variable was discovered. Many people had buckets of white chalk water which was generously applied to faces, local and foreigner alike (Especially foreigners with really white skin. I definitely got more than Jason did. (Ha ha! Joke’s on them, my face is so white you can’t see white chalk!)). Oh well, an unavoidable hazard. And in the middle of it all, a solid wall of people marched in slow motion with no destination in mind, only soaking and being soaked. And sometimes applying chalk to strangers’ faces.

Within seconds of entering the churning mass of people, we were soaked through. Any idea about where we were headed was washed away (hah) and we were absorbed into the dripping hive-mind that gripped the entire city that weekend. We marched on, shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other Bangkok-ites, smiling and being continually showered; our tiny, cheap guns no match for the mass of better equipped locals and their sheer numbers. The city had even brought in the fire department to try and control the crowd. But it only got everyone more wet.

After no more than an hour of overwhelming wetness, we admitted defeat and hightailed it (slowly) to the sidelines. Even escaping the center of the crazy didn’t exempt us from attacks. All the slow way back to the train platform we were barraged from all sides. At the top we surveyed the damage.

Black was a poor choice.

Useful travel websites and apps

lindsaycade — Wed, 30 May 2012 07:46:00 -0400

In light of one of my favorite friends possibly coming to visit us in November, AND because I am in Myanmar and I am unable to access Flickr to post pictures, here are some helpful websites and phone apps I’ve found to assist in the copious amount of planning that goes into traveling long term.

For flights:

Skyscanner.net

This lets you find cheap flights on airlines you’ve never heard of and also allows you to find the cheapest flight to “everywhere” which is pretty awesome.

Hipmunk.com

This site is pretty useful for major airlines and multi-leg trips. Sorts possible itineraries by price and “agony” so plans with lots of layovers or bad times are pushed to the bottom.

Discount Airlines

Discount airlines may have a terrible website and airport experience (coughJetStarcough) but they sure are cheap. And they get get you there.

For hotels:

wikitravel.org

My recent favorite is this website. It is sort of a condensed version of a travel guide book but with additions from many travelers. Cheap hotels that aren’t in Lonely Planet with contact information are one of the most useful features.

Tripadvisor

This website is a classic, but a priority for me as I ctrl+F the “b” word (bed bugs). For us, bad service isn’t necessarily a deal breaker for cheap hotels but lots of complaints of dirtiness, mosquitos, or the “b” word is.

The forums are sometimes helpful for more specific questions.

Airbnb

Instead of a hotel, stay in someone’s spare room in hundreds of cities across the world. Often (but not always) cheaper than hotels, it can be a good homey option and you’ll likely get a local that comes with lots of knowledge about the surrounding area as a bonus.

Phone apps

Currency converter

OANDA currency converter seems to work well. For Iphone and android.

Google Translate

Works well but requires internet connection. Also, you can download other languages keyboards so you can translate from foreign > english.

Android

Iphone

Codegent language apps (Android)

Free app that covers many languages. It has several categories of common phrases in many different languages and as a bonus can say each out loud in an appropriate accent so you don’t have to embarrass pronouncing those cryptic tonal syllables.

Flashlight

Utilitas (android)

My flashlight app has come in handy to light up a dark room in Angkor Wat to find bats and also when the power went out in our hotel at night. It could have been used a lot of times before that but I didn’t have it. Or you could just bring an actual flashlight. I use Utilitas which includes a lot of other random things like stopwatch, compass, random number generator, level, ruler, protractor, and discount percentage calculater but I’m sure there are lots.

Bonus:

Website AND phone app

Tripit

Easily summarize travel plans, especially those with emailed receipts online and on your phone. Just forward your flight, hotel, activity, etc reservation to plans@tripit.com and it will organize it for you. You can also share itineraries with other Tripit members and see if any of your Tripit connections are close to you. You can message me for my name and connect with me!

Other useful things:

Plug converter

Plugs anywhere outside the US don’t look like the plugs in the US. You can get a universal converter or just research the countries you’re going to and get an appropriate one. I’m using our universal one right now in an internet cafe in Myanmar.

Podcasts, audiobooks, books

Bring things to entertain yourself on long transportation rides. If you’re on a budget, taking a flight may often be too expensive so long bus and train rides may be on the itinerary. Audio formats are wonderful because they don’t require light to consume.

Food in Bangkok

lindsaycade — Thu, 17 May 2012 11:25:00 -0400

So, I’m not sure if I have written/shown a proportional amount of content on the blog to reflect how much time we spend thinking and tracking down food in these cities.

It’s a lot.

And the food in Bangkok has been, by far, our favorite. Not only is it readily available everywhere (that was the case in India too), there is lots more variety (not everything has turmeric), and normally the food is more trustworthy. Jason and I didn’t get seriously ill once from food in Thailand.

So here is a collection of some awesome food we had. Also the number of pictures of food I took increased drastically after I got a new Nikon 35mm f/1.8 lens that is way sharper and generally better than my clunky Tamron zoom lens.

We happened upon these the first time in a tiny alley behind our first apartment. We stopped to get iced coffee (the coffee situation in Thailand was also greatly improved over that of India) and the barista was also making these things in a mould. We shyly asked what they were and she said with the cutest accent, “corn pop” (hers had corn in the middle instead of chives) and gave us two to try.

MMMmmMMMMM so good!

I guess the Thai name is Khanom Krog but in any case, this confection of rice flour, coconut cream, and sugar is just divine. Crispy on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside with a little tang of corn or chives. Just delicious.

We were pretty hooked after she gave us the first two so we asked for two more by pointing and holding up 2 fingers with the intent of paying. She agreed and started filling two whole boxes with these treats. Oh well, apparently the serving size is an entire box. We eventually explained we just wanted two more single ones and then we all had a laugh and she gave us two more for free!

Another time, we went to the night market by the nearest train station which had loads of food stalls. We actually had a hard time finding something recognizable and unsketchy looking, but eventually settled on the very safe pad see you and pad thai.

Always an excellent choice. Even though Jason looks…intense.

That same night we (I?) were jonesing for something sweet after dinner. With no corn pops in sight we had to improvise. We spotted an ice cream cart attached to a motorcycle but as we threaded our way through the food stalls, it zoomed away! No!

Luckily, this guy had set up his cart right there and he was making banana crepes.

This guy was amazing. He made the flour from scratch right in front of us, then kneaded it and tossed it in the air to thin it out. Then bright orange “butter” (????) was applied to the grill and all over the crepe and a banana was expertly sliced and laid on the crepe with sweet icing. After the perfect amount of time, it was precisely folded, dripped with more icing, dusted with powdered sugar, and laid perfectly onto the paper carton. Oh, you can’t even imagine how wonderful it tasted, the gooey bananas and crispy crepe, all mixing with the icing. Way better than ice cream.

Finally, on one of our last nights, we met up with the inspiring Kyle and Bessie who were visiting Bangkok on their way home to Chicago after spending a year in public outreach in Myanmar. They generously invited us to spend the day with them as they met up with other friends, visited Chatuchak market (over 9000 stalls!), an art gallery, a big mall, and the famous “duck guy” who apparently had the best duck in Bangkok (all after spending all of the previous night on an overnight bus! What stamina!). The duck guy was out that night, but there were plenty of other food stalls and so everyone ordered. I was the difficult one and decided to get another pad thai at the stall highly recommended on the corner. Not only did our group think highly of it, the locals did too, as there was a line of about 15 people. I (think I) explained what I wanted and they said they would bring it to me when it was done.

All the ingredients from the popular stall were laid out on this cart. And then the same guy cooked all night at this wok, taking all his ingredients from the cart. Everyone else was done with their food by the time mine came, but it was probably the best pad thai I’ve had, so I’ll say it was worth the wait!

More sunsets

lindsaycade — Sun, 13 May 2012 01:32:00 -0400

Near the end of our time in Bangkok, we decided to check out the Sky Bar. It’s famous and is on the 63 floor and they filmed Hangover 2 there, so really, how could we not?

We planned our visit for sunset so we could watch the sun slowly disappear behind a spectacular wall of big-Asian-city haze.

At first the actual Sky Bar was closed so we were shepherded out to a terrace on the other side of the building. At the repeated insistence of every staff member, we each ordered a cocktail for about $15. They were pretty good (mine had “molecular cucumber balls”, whatever that is) but $15 is ridiculous in the US, much less Bangkok, where you can buy 15 awesome dinners (with a small chance of food poisoning) for the same price.

Unlike the drink prices and staff attitudes, the views were, of course, thrilling, and the sun looked great shining off the buildings and I definitely wanted to take some pictures. But the way the seating was arranged on the terrace blocked any clear views of the scenery by the guard rails.

Thanks to my newfound confidence, I decided that this was really ridiculous and decided that standing on the (very wide so there was no chance of me falling off. And also it wasn’t like there was a straight drop-off to the ground, there was another balcony like 5 feet down) concrete bench was the only way to get an awesome photo (it was) and that even if I got in trouble, what worse thing would happen than they would tell me to get down?

So I respectfully took off my shoes and stood on the bench to take pictures. About 5 seconds later, I was brusquely told to get down: it is not safe, is not allowed. ”Ok, ok, sorry, sorry”, I fake-sheepishly replied. But I got the shot:

Another one from the other side of the building. Taken through the window. No interesting story.

Eventually we were let in to the actual Sky Bar. It was quite nice at the top, contemplating the hectic, beautiful, foreign city transform from day to night.

A series of 3 photos I thought were interesting in the flat, dull light of dusk.

We stayed up for awhile and watched the lights come on over the city. The bar got very crowded quickly, so we didn’t linger too long.

If you’re in Bangkok and are interested in getting a great view, it’s definitely worth a visit. But just be ready to spend lots of money on expensive drinks and for it to be very crowded.

BAG DRINKS (part 1)

lindsaycade — Sat, 12 May 2012 01:32:26 -0400

Umm, hello, this is a BRILLANT idea. Every other country I’ve ever been to, you are way behind. If you put your drink in a drink sized bag, you can keep your other fingers free to carry other things AND the ice condensation doesn’t drip all over you (super handy on the train, especially in Bangkok when you’re not allowed to have drinks. Oh well).

Also, when we were at Au Bon Pain in Bangkok (I know, boring, but we were at the hospital and there were limited choices) I ordered 2 coffees—one to take back to Jason— and they put them in a DIVIDED plastic bag. Like one of those cardboard drink holders you get at fast food restaurants but way better because it had handles!

Way to go Thailand. You are way ahead in cutting edge drink carrying technology.

Okay and in case you missed it, this is only part ONE of bag drinks. There is another amazing bag drink concept coming.

Can you stand the suspense?!

Update

lindsaycade — Fri, 11 May 2012 05:14:00 -0400

Well, right now we’re in Joma Cafe (Chocolate croissant and lemon mint smoothie highly recommended) in Hanoi, Vietnam taking a much needed computer/veg break from hectic traveling and touring. Since I’ve last updated we’ve accidentally overstayed a visa, gotten ripped off at the border, had maggots in our soup, fallen out of a kayak, found a restaurant serving deer feces, taken a 24 hour bus ride, and both gotten the same cold. But, you know, it’s been exciting. We’ve also seen amazing temples, explored ancient stone ruins, hiked over deserted hills surrounded by mountains, met wonderful people and eaten super tasty food (Sans feces. And maggots. As far as we know.).

So I’ll be working on wrapping up some pictures from Bangkok and then working through Laos and Vietnam.

This weekend we’re heading to Halong Bay for a cruise which is pretty appealing. There should be a lot of relaxing and tons of spectacular photos from that. Then on to Cambodia and Angkor Wat, then to Myanmar where who knows what we’ll find.

ONWARD, HO!