Or something. Malaysia is indeed pretty awesome, though.
Perhaps because it was the first place where I stepped off the plane and felt warm, but I knew the second I arrived in Malaysia in the early morning of January 20 that I loved it. Though the feeling was tempered when we finally returned, two and a half weeks later, I still feel a great deal of fondness for that country.
First, a few words about traveling: you guyses, it is EXHAUSTING to take a two-and-a-half week vacation and pack it with as much stuff to do as we did. KL, Bangkok, Phuket, Bangkok, Siem Reap, KL again - not to mention the tiring and stressful travel to get to and from all of these places - it just sort of takes a lot out of you. So when we did get to our last destination, I was pretty well vacationed out, and ready to take it easy in Kuala Lumpur.
Fortunately, the weather was more than willing to cooperate with those plans of mine. Hot, humid, threatening rain in the afternoon - it was like a Houston summer, only in February (which sometimes happens in Houston, too). It was, however, perfect weather for hanging out in airconditioned monorails, malls, temples (both Hindu and Buddhist), mosques, and museums. The nice thing about the Malaysian capital (and its largest city) is how very compact the central city is. The suburbs sprawl out all across the Klang (it's a river AND an onomatopoeia!), but the central city is not only very walkable, but well-connected by a monorail and a light rail. Our hotel in Chinatown served as a great jumping off point for not only Lunar New Year's festivities, but also for light city exploration.(Though this turned out to be a double-edged sword: centrally located in Chinatown during the New Year means also centrally located to what sounds like a Mongol invasion when they set off the firecrackers every night)
What struck me the most about KL, though, was the staggering diversity of it. Living in Korea for a year, which is a traditional nation (ethnic/state boundaries are generally coterminous), has kind of warped my expectations of what to see in other countries. China, Thailand, and Cambodia really only reinforced this. In each of these countries, the state is generally associated with one ethnic group - China with Han Chinese, Thailand with Thais, and Cambodia with Khmers - and any minority populations tend to either be very small or shunted off to the hinterlands. This is true even of the big cities. In Kuala Lumpur, however, you have ethnic Malays, Chinese, and Indians of all shapes, sizes and colors walking around the streets. Add to that the legions of tourists and business travelers passing through the city and it makes for some very interesting walks.
My particular favorite scene was one I found myself in on the first afternoon in KL. I was standing on a street corner in an area that looks like a less-crowded version of Mayor Bloomberg's Times Square in NYC. Standing next to me was a woman in a full burqa, and the both of us were watching a street performer sing a cover of Bob Marley's "No Woman, No Cry". It was one of those very surreal moments that seems so far out of the realm of possibility; yet here you are, and there she is, and there he is singing Bob Marley. Odd.
Another fairly remarkable thing about the city: it exists, holding sizable populations of Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus (with other minorities) side-by-side in relatively little conflict with one another. Partly I think this is because of the history of the place - these religions and ethnicities have been in peninsular Malaysia for centuries - and partly I think it is because of the heady wealth flowing into KL over the last thirty years that seems to have done pretty well for the entirety of the city, rather than just the already-wealthy.
An interesting parallel to this city could be seen in Sarajevo. For centuries, Bosniak Muslims, Serbian Orthodox Christians and the generally Roman Catholic Croat population lived together in what was arguably the most cosmopolitan city on the European Continent. Then, during the collapse of Yugoslavia and the rise of Serbian dictator Slobodan Milosevic, Serbian Nationalism was stirred up in response to the breakaway republic of Croatia and the attempts of Bosnia-Herzegovina to leave the union, leading to a horrifically bloody war (complete with genocide in the east and the stunningly awful siege of Sarajevo).
Malaysia in the latter half of the 20th century, in contrast, saw incredible growth in its economy thanks to increased oil reserves and other natural resource extraction - not exactly ideal conditions to incite nationalist zealotry. So the country has done fairly well for itself, and indeed has become a fairly important conflict moderator in the region. As well, its approach to religion has been a fairly liberal (in the classical sense) one - the strictures associated in the West with Islam seem far more flexible in Malaysia. Yes, some women wear burqas. But standing with their daughters who are dressed in a more western style, one wonders whose choice it was to wear the burqa.
I was fascinated by KL, and I was exhausted by it. I think I'd like to go back some day with more energy to really see the city, but the thought of any more travel just at the moment (aside from going back to Houston and then spending some time in DC and then moving to China) just makes me want to crawl under my desk and hide in terror.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Cambodia all together
So it's our last day in Siem Reap, and I think I'm going to try to sum up the last few days all in this one singular blog post. COME ON THIS JOURNEY WITH ME.
First, a little background: Siem Reap is a perfectly nice small tourist town that would be little more than a few huts had not the ruins of the largest religious structure in the world been discovered there in the 19th century. As it is, Siem Reap serves as the touristy jumping off point for visits to Angkor Wat, and that's exactly what my friends and I were going to do.
First, though, we had to get there. Some redheaded guy had the bright idea to make a land crossing from Thailand, so we climbed aboard the 5:55am train to the border a few days ago. Let me tell you: crowded third class is a FAR cry from first class sleeper accommodations. But we lived, and about 6 hours later we arrived in Arantaprathet and hoped in a tuk tuk to the border.
But not before our driver took us to a rando roadside cafe with what amounted to a hand-painted sign reading "BORDER" with backwards R's.
It was a cute try, and he knew it. Once at the real border, he tried to rip me off of an additional 20 baht, and we mostly genially parted ways.
We had no idea that would be the EASY one. Protip: don't ignore the "something here isn't right" feeling. Ever.
Like when we were ushered into a "quarantine" area and told to fill out a "customs form" and given a sales pitch for a cab ride to wherever we were going. After a few highly stressful minutes, we hightailed it out of there and made it to the real Cambodian customs house. The thing about experiences like that is they tend to set you on super high alert, suspicious even of the real Cambodian tourist officials showing you where to hire a cab to your hotel and how to change money. It also makes the ensuing two hour cab ride an intense one, on which you are convinced that you are about to murdered.
Fortunately, we arrived at out hotel safe and sound, albeit very hot, dusty, and in need of a shower. The hotel, however, was amazing - an oasis in the savannah of Western Cambodia. It served as a wonderful place to relax and cool off after a long, hot day of touring the ruins at Angkor.
Which themselves were amazing. It is a particular passion of mine, old ruins. Ancient Rome, ancient Greece, Liza Minelli...so you can imagine how much fun I had traipsing about these thousand-year-old temples in Cambodia. But my favorite memories have to be the people we met, from our driver, Mr. Ya, to the plethora if Canadians, to the General Contractir in charge of the reconstruction of the Baphuon Temple. Simply incredible. What's even better, though, is that to get to Malaysia, we get to take a plane! Hooray for simplicity!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
First, a little background: Siem Reap is a perfectly nice small tourist town that would be little more than a few huts had not the ruins of the largest religious structure in the world been discovered there in the 19th century. As it is, Siem Reap serves as the touristy jumping off point for visits to Angkor Wat, and that's exactly what my friends and I were going to do.
First, though, we had to get there. Some redheaded guy had the bright idea to make a land crossing from Thailand, so we climbed aboard the 5:55am train to the border a few days ago. Let me tell you: crowded third class is a FAR cry from first class sleeper accommodations. But we lived, and about 6 hours later we arrived in Arantaprathet and hoped in a tuk tuk to the border.
But not before our driver took us to a rando roadside cafe with what amounted to a hand-painted sign reading "BORDER" with backwards R's.
It was a cute try, and he knew it. Once at the real border, he tried to rip me off of an additional 20 baht, and we mostly genially parted ways.
We had no idea that would be the EASY one. Protip: don't ignore the "something here isn't right" feeling. Ever.
Like when we were ushered into a "quarantine" area and told to fill out a "customs form" and given a sales pitch for a cab ride to wherever we were going. After a few highly stressful minutes, we hightailed it out of there and made it to the real Cambodian customs house. The thing about experiences like that is they tend to set you on super high alert, suspicious even of the real Cambodian tourist officials showing you where to hire a cab to your hotel and how to change money. It also makes the ensuing two hour cab ride an intense one, on which you are convinced that you are about to murdered.
Fortunately, we arrived at out hotel safe and sound, albeit very hot, dusty, and in need of a shower. The hotel, however, was amazing - an oasis in the savannah of Western Cambodia. It served as a wonderful place to relax and cool off after a long, hot day of touring the ruins at Angkor.
Which themselves were amazing. It is a particular passion of mine, old ruins. Ancient Rome, ancient Greece, Liza Minelli...so you can imagine how much fun I had traipsing about these thousand-year-old temples in Cambodia. But my favorite memories have to be the people we met, from our driver, Mr. Ya, to the plethora if Canadians, to the General Contractir in charge of the reconstruction of the Baphuon Temple. Simply incredible. What's even better, though, is that to get to Malaysia, we get to take a plane! Hooray for simplicity!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Traveling Story
So I currently find myself in one of those very typical Unexpected Travel Situations that no one really plans for, but that are the staples of any travel story. This happens to be the part of my vacation that involves a very long, complicated route to Bangkok that could easily have been obviated by a short, hour-and-fifteen minute flight. Instead, we have decided to take the minibus-minibus-taxi-train route which, it turns out, will take approximately 24 hours.
Which just seems absurd.
What it is doing, however, is giving me ample time to reflect on the nature of travel on crowded minibuses first full of bleary-eyed backpackers and then full of Thais on their mobiles.
None of which I will bore you with, as they seem to be mostly of the all-too-earnest "one world, one family, united by commercialism blah blah blah kill me" variety. Boring. If you really need that fix of high school philosopher pseudointellectualism, well, this is the Internet. It's readily available.
Instead, dear reader, let me regale you with tales of my adventures of yesterday. To preface: I am quite obviously fine, and do not need worried phone calls/texts/emails/facebooks thankyouverymuch.
The day started off threatening storms, which made for a pretty choppy and wet ride to Ko Phi Phi, sitting on the top of the boat as we were. Fortunately, once we neared the island, the skies cleared and we were able to enjoy some moderately nice sightseeing around Phi Phi Don and Phi Phi Leh. Then it was time for the part of the trip I'd been most looking forward to: SNORKELING! It started off as these stories so often do: the snorkeling was fantastic, and I loved seeing the fish swimming amongst the coral reef. My two friends and I were having a great time splashing about, playing in the water.
As you might already know, I am moderately ADD when it comes to animals (see the post about manatees). So it's probably inevitable that I got kind of distracted by a fish. I followed it for a while - couldn't have been but a minute - but when I looked up, I saw one of the scariest sights I have ever seen in my life: no one. It looked like I was completely alone in the water which, as you might imagine, is a pretty terrifying feeling. All my fears about deep, open water that I'd managed to successfully suppress for years came flooding back to me right at that moment.
Frantically, I searched for the nearest boat, becoming acutely aware of just how strong the current really was. After what felt like an eternity, I reached the boat, and my heart sank as I realized that it definitely wasn't mine. I paused, collected myself, and asked if anyone knew where the boat I had been on was.
500 meters. I could do this. There was a boat between this one and mine, so I knew I would have a resting point. I set off.
There was a shelf of coral, relatively shallow, that I knew I would need to keep close to if I was going to have any chance of staving off the panic that would come with staring into the abyss of the deeper water. The current, however, was having different ideas. Like a linebacker, it did it's best to keep me away from the comfortingly shallower water.
I was terrified to look up and drift even further out, but I was even more terrified to lose sight of the orange boat that was my beacon and guide to safety.
Finally, my breath coming in gasps and my mask sloshing with salt water, I reached the boat. Clinging to the rungs if the ladder, a German diver remarked on the strength of the current
"Just a bit," I replied, desperately hoping my dry sarcasm would mask the very real fear I felt for the inevitable second round.
"Best to get on with it," he nodded, and with more than a few steely breaths, I took the plunge.
Perhaps I was weaker, or more afraid, but it seemed that every time I looked up, the boat was farther away. The current, too, seemed more intent on dragging me out, and with every glance down the water seemed deeper and the fish more menacing. I could feel the panic rising in my throat.
"Don't panic. Just breathe." I tried to keep The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in my mind, but I could hear my breaths coming in short tasks with more and more salt water in each one.
But I kept on. Finally, after what couldn't have been more than a few minutes but what felt like hours, I saw it: the boat's guide rope, stretched taut in the water like a finish line. Somehow, I had the presence of mind not to grab on in water too deep, but waited till I could keep my head above the water and pull myself to safety.
Trying desperately not to break down in tears, I hauled myself up the ladder, gasping for breath and amazed to have made it out of the water.
I think I'm pretty lucky: I've been swimming regularly for six months, so I'm pretty strong in the water. That, and the lessons I remembered from boy scouts probably kept me safe. Looking back, though, I'm not sure how much real danger I was in. There were people everywhere who likely could have helped, and ultimately I made it.
So overall, I'd say it was a good day.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Which just seems absurd.
What it is doing, however, is giving me ample time to reflect on the nature of travel on crowded minibuses first full of bleary-eyed backpackers and then full of Thais on their mobiles.
None of which I will bore you with, as they seem to be mostly of the all-too-earnest "one world, one family, united by commercialism blah blah blah kill me" variety. Boring. If you really need that fix of high school philosopher pseudointellectualism, well, this is the Internet. It's readily available.
Instead, dear reader, let me regale you with tales of my adventures of yesterday. To preface: I am quite obviously fine, and do not need worried phone calls/texts/emails/facebooks thankyouverymuch.
The day started off threatening storms, which made for a pretty choppy and wet ride to Ko Phi Phi, sitting on the top of the boat as we were. Fortunately, once we neared the island, the skies cleared and we were able to enjoy some moderately nice sightseeing around Phi Phi Don and Phi Phi Leh. Then it was time for the part of the trip I'd been most looking forward to: SNORKELING! It started off as these stories so often do: the snorkeling was fantastic, and I loved seeing the fish swimming amongst the coral reef. My two friends and I were having a great time splashing about, playing in the water.
As you might already know, I am moderately ADD when it comes to animals (see the post about manatees). So it's probably inevitable that I got kind of distracted by a fish. I followed it for a while - couldn't have been but a minute - but when I looked up, I saw one of the scariest sights I have ever seen in my life: no one. It looked like I was completely alone in the water which, as you might imagine, is a pretty terrifying feeling. All my fears about deep, open water that I'd managed to successfully suppress for years came flooding back to me right at that moment.
Frantically, I searched for the nearest boat, becoming acutely aware of just how strong the current really was. After what felt like an eternity, I reached the boat, and my heart sank as I realized that it definitely wasn't mine. I paused, collected myself, and asked if anyone knew where the boat I had been on was.
500 meters. I could do this. There was a boat between this one and mine, so I knew I would have a resting point. I set off.
There was a shelf of coral, relatively shallow, that I knew I would need to keep close to if I was going to have any chance of staving off the panic that would come with staring into the abyss of the deeper water. The current, however, was having different ideas. Like a linebacker, it did it's best to keep me away from the comfortingly shallower water.
I was terrified to look up and drift even further out, but I was even more terrified to lose sight of the orange boat that was my beacon and guide to safety.
Finally, my breath coming in gasps and my mask sloshing with salt water, I reached the boat. Clinging to the rungs if the ladder, a German diver remarked on the strength of the current
"Just a bit," I replied, desperately hoping my dry sarcasm would mask the very real fear I felt for the inevitable second round.
"Best to get on with it," he nodded, and with more than a few steely breaths, I took the plunge.
Perhaps I was weaker, or more afraid, but it seemed that every time I looked up, the boat was farther away. The current, too, seemed more intent on dragging me out, and with every glance down the water seemed deeper and the fish more menacing. I could feel the panic rising in my throat.
"Don't panic. Just breathe." I tried to keep The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in my mind, but I could hear my breaths coming in short tasks with more and more salt water in each one.
But I kept on. Finally, after what couldn't have been more than a few minutes but what felt like hours, I saw it: the boat's guide rope, stretched taut in the water like a finish line. Somehow, I had the presence of mind not to grab on in water too deep, but waited till I could keep my head above the water and pull myself to safety.
Trying desperately not to break down in tears, I hauled myself up the ladder, gasping for breath and amazed to have made it out of the water.
I think I'm pretty lucky: I've been swimming regularly for six months, so I'm pretty strong in the water. That, and the lessons I remembered from boy scouts probably kept me safe. Looking back, though, I'm not sure how much real danger I was in. There were people everywhere who likely could have helped, and ultimately I made it.
So overall, I'd say it was a good day.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Location:On the road to Surat Thani
Monday, January 24, 2011
It's called modesty, you guys
Perhaps it is because I was raised in a good, old-fashioned American shame-based religion. Or possibly because I do not have the body of Brad Pitt. But I would never in a million, billion years consider going to the beach in a speedo, let alone outside my own house.
That, however, is precisely what countless hoards of European tourists insist upon doing at this beach. What's particularly scary is just how bad ALL of these guys look. I think my friend Jill said it best: all the women look concave and all the men look pregnant. It's really a terrifying sight.
Here's the thing, though: even if you DO have the body for a speedo, that doesn't mean you should wear one. I mean honestly, people! Have some shame about your body! Goodness, walking around like you don't have body issues!
Cover. That. Mess. Up.
The good news, though, is that America us definitely winning the culture wars. I have seen more white trash tourists here than on a Carnival cruise ship, and none of them are American. U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
That, however, is precisely what countless hoards of European tourists insist upon doing at this beach. What's particularly scary is just how bad ALL of these guys look. I think my friend Jill said it best: all the women look concave and all the men look pregnant. It's really a terrifying sight.
Here's the thing, though: even if you DO have the body for a speedo, that doesn't mean you should wear one. I mean honestly, people! Have some shame about your body! Goodness, walking around like you don't have body issues!
Cover. That. Mess. Up.
The good news, though, is that America us definitely winning the culture wars. I have seen more white trash tourists here than on a Carnival cruise ship, and none of them are American. U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Location:Karon,Thailand
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Beach, minus Leo
YOU GUYS. I am officially the most sunburnt evAR. Well, on my legs at least. I am serious. They look like boiled lobsters. Stupid Korean SPF 47. Whatever.
What's more important, however, is that I am at the beach. In January. In Thailand. This is the greatest moment of my life.
This is my beach, Kata, in Phuket. It is amazing.
So far, Thailand has been awesome. Warm weather, beautiful beaches, and hordes of German and Slavic tourists wearing innumerable inappropriate speedos. Seriously, guys, we need to work on exporting Shame to these foreign lands. Because you clearly do not have enough of it if you are a 250 lb tanned leathery whale, DO NOT WEAR A SPEEDO. Just don't do it.
So that's a thing here. But now I'm going to get back to planning my snorkeling with sharks excursion. LATA NERDS.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
What's more important, however, is that I am at the beach. In January. In Thailand. This is the greatest moment of my life.
This is my beach, Kata, in Phuket. It is amazing.
So far, Thailand has been awesome. Warm weather, beautiful beaches, and hordes of German and Slavic tourists wearing innumerable inappropriate speedos. Seriously, guys, we need to work on exporting Shame to these foreign lands. Because you clearly do not have enough of it if you are a 250 lb tanned leathery whale, DO NOT WEAR A SPEEDO. Just don't do it.
So that's a thing here. But now I'm going to get back to planning my snorkeling with sharks excursion. LATA NERDS.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Location:Karon,Thailand
Thursday, January 20, 2011
On the way to thailand
So we are finally on our way to Thailand, sitting in Kuala Lumpur's Low Cost Carrier Terminal. And in case you were wondering, yes, it very much is low budget.
Yes, that's the plane. Yes, we will have to walk up stairs to embark. No, there is no bathroom in this terminal.
Also, terrifyingly, there are a lot if people in Muslim Garb around. Juan Williams would be shitting himself if he were here.
(Sidebar: I am 100% certain that Juan Williams is crazypants. So not worried about the other passengers)
Aaaaand that's a bird in the "terminal". Ge-HET-to.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Yes, that's the plane. Yes, we will have to walk up stairs to embark. No, there is no bathroom in this terminal.
Also, terrifyingly, there are a lot if people in Muslim Garb around. Juan Williams would be shitting himself if he were here.
(Sidebar: I am 100% certain that Juan Williams is crazypants. So not worried about the other passengers)
Aaaaand that's a bird in the "terminal". Ge-HET-to.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Nihao from China!
So I have made it to China ( sort of), and now I am sitting in the Shanghai airport eating French fries and strange chicken wings. So that's fun. Also fun? The unexpected trip through customs for my flight transfer. The airport here is pretty standard, if a little crappy behind security. Ah well. Another stamp for the passport and another note for the airport notebook. See you all in KL in about six hours...hopefully...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (but not really, it's an iPod touch)
Location:Pudong Airport Rd,Shanghai,China
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