A Warm Visit To A Chile Place

Originally I was planning on heading up to Haiti and the Dominican Republic after my stay in Brazil, but as I've learned from this trip. Plans change. So when I realized that wasn't going to work out, I set my sights on finding somewhere else to visit in the South/Central America region. It was during this brainstorming period when I stumbled across my friend Teo's Instagram picture in Chile. In an instant I remembered that he lives there. It was perfect. Chile is close to Brazil and there was a relatively in-expensive ticket available. I messaged him and the plans were set, I would be visiting Santiago for my unoccupied week.

First thing when I got off the plane and out of the airport, we drove off (into the sunset) towards Viña del Mar. This little beach city is where Teo's mom and grandparents live. It is also apparently where he spends every weekend (and as it was a Saturday when I arrived, we had to go to Viña). The drive only took about an hour from Santiago, so I guess it makes sense that he goes so often. Why wouldn't anyone want to spend every weekend by the ocean?

I know I complained about the rain a lot in Brazil but it was pretty dreary. I was probably even worse in person to Teo when I arrive because he assured me that it basically never rains in Chile. That it might be super cold (as it was winter) but it was still usually sunny. This might normally be true (and I think it probably is) but it just happened to rain 3 out of 7 days I was there. Just my luck!

So we spent the weekend at the beach and it was sunny and nice for that day. I took a few hour walk with Teo's mom and their dog Luna down the coast. The little pup frolicked around on the beach and played with the cochayuyo (seaweed) that was washed up all over the shore. It was a crisp but sunny winter day and a perfect way to spend a sunday afternoon. My senses were overwhelmed by the sound of the ocean and the barking dog, the smell of seaweed, the feeling of the sun and the breeze, but most of all just that feeling you get when you're near the sea and you look out at the vastness of the water stretching beyond sight out to all corners of the earth.

From the sprawling coastline, with the cuchayuyo scattered along the sand and the waves crashing on the shore, we traveled an hour back inland to the foothills of the Andes. The massive snow capped peaks watching over this artsy, laid back city (which feels like the Colorado of South America). Chile is a ski/snowboarders (and surfers) paradise with the attitude to match.

However, there is also a thriving contemporary art community, which I'm sure has an equal impact on the pulse of the city. Because Teo had school and work during the week, I spent a lot of time wandering the city and visiting every art museum I could get my hands on (and there were plenty available!) I also had a few really interesting conversations with the few locals I met who spoke English, these all revolved around art, music, etc. Just generally creative endeavors.

I think I might be a bit smitten with Chile. It is either that, or Teo sold it to me really well (but he was off actually having a life most of the time, so I don't think that is why). One thing that Chile is not though, is cheap. It was almost as expensive as (if not more than) the UK, but at this point in my trip, being under budget, that didn't really seem to concern me. I guess the art, culture, and people gave me enough reason to ignore the price tags.

I did get to spend the evenings with Teo (which would have been more fun had it not been getting dark by 5:30pm every day). We usually cooked dinner and than became hooligans and just generally made a ruckus (but we made sure to be in bed by 9pm because, you know, school/work and stuff).

The last morning, just before I went to the airport, I had breakfast with another friend of mine from India. Guru Seva made breakfast and I ventured over to his place. It was so cool to see him after so long and get a chance to have a bit of a catch up. It was kinda rushed (but that is the story of this trip, so I guess it fit the program).

Now, ironically, the best part of my Chile adventure, even though I think it was my favorite (new) place on this trip, was leaving. The airport saga is a tale of its own. Little did I know that when I got back from my lovely breakfast, the animal farm would be waiting to greet me. Teo and his friend Seba had gone to a costume store (or something of that nature) and picked up a dog and a zebra onesies. They than proceeded to take me to the airport dressed like this, all the while waving around a Chilean flag. This caught everyones attention. It was kinda the best thing ever.

I did have to say goodbye to them and to Chile, which is had but I've gotten used to goodbyes. You could say at this point I am kind of a pro. The goodbyes have actually just turned into, I'll see you when I come back, because I will be returning to most all of the places I have visited (hopefully). Chile, however, is one place that I will return to. I have no doubt in my mind that within the next few years I will go back to this marvelous country. A place I enjoyed immensely but didn't even see close to what it has to offer.

Copa da Chuva 2014 (The Rain Cup 2014)

I said goodbye to my mother in Morocco, knowing I was going to see her again soon. I just had to make a quick pit stop in South America, to round off my 6 continents in 6 months (and see some old friends).

I said goodbye to my mother and along with her I said goodbye to most of the warm clothes that I had packed for my time in the UK. Turns out that was a bad idea. It wasn't an issue for my one day back in the UK (London was so nice and sunny that day, it was almost too hot!)

Because it was such a lovely day I strolled around Covent Garden. Saw some street performers, had a lovely Korean lunch and sat in the sun. It was a much nicer way to kill my layover time than sitting in the godawful place that is Heathrow airport.

Next stop (after about 9hours on the plane) São Paulo! When I arrived, my friend Gobind was there to meet me. It's been so long, I didn't even recognize him at first. I walked straight out of the airport and almost kept going, until I heard my name and suddenly, 'wa BAM' there he was!

We hopped on a bus, which took us to the metro, which took us to his car, which took us home. Now, I don't know how many of you know this but apparently there are these people in Beijing (maybe Shanghai, as well) whose job it is to stand behind the crowds who are trying to use the subway (during rush hour) and literally push them onto the train in order to fit the maximum people on board. Well let's just say, São Paulo metro felt like that had happened...

Welcome to Brazil!

After we ditched the quasi-India-like-sardines-in-a-can-metal-tube-speeding-through-the-city, we were spit out into a little naighborhood that I would soon come to know quite well over the next few weeks, because of our frequent journeys from Gobind's house to the metro.

Years ago, when Gobind first invited me to come visit him, I remember he used to talk about his house as if it was some sort of paradise on earth. The descriptions he would give sounded so heavenly that THAT is the main reason I felt I needed to go visit Brazil. Luckily, when I got there, his story held up. The place was (is) beautiful! With passion fruit, papaya, and banana trees, a swimming pool, a lush garden, a yoga room, and a lovely lawn all tucked into a jungle mountain overlooking the Saha (jungle/forest/mountain) on the outskirts of the city.

The only problem with this paradise was about 8 out of the 14 days I was there were rainy, cloudy, and gross. Now, remember how I gave my warm clothes to my mom to take home? This is why it was a bad idea. I knew Chile would be cold so I kept a few things with me. It's a really good thing I did that or I would really have been screwed. I know it's winter and all, but, COME ON, Brazil.

The good news was that the day we were in Rio was gorgeous (we did plan it that way, but still). Because Gobind teaches yoga Tues, Thurs, and Sat we had to work around his schedule. What we ended up doing was leaving Tues after his last class (at like 11pm) and took a 6hour bus to Rio. We arrived super early, crashed for a few hours, and than went exploring.

We ended up doing all of the touristy things in Rio. We were really efficient. Started by going up to the Christ, after that we headed right to the sugar-loaf, and finally, ended up at Ipanema beach where we had dinner. This was after we saw someone almost drown. It was pretty intense. They were just lying there with a massive crowd around them with foam or something coming out of their mouth. It was like, oh, nice sunny beach day. Nope, death. Gobind doesn't think they actually died and for my peace of mind I like to agree with him, but I'm not quite sure.

Since Rio is pretty dangerous (and seeing as we got very little sleep the night before), we decided to call it an early night. I was exhausted at that point anyways, so I crashed at about 7:30pm.

The next morning we had to leave Rio around 10am so we could get Gobind back in time for his yoga classes. It ended up being a lot of bus travel, but was also really worth it. I like Rio a lot (regardless of Gobind talking smack every chance he got).

Because the weather was so crap the rest of my time there (except maybe one or two days) we had to call off our trip to the beach. We were going to take the weekend and stay at a little beach town for a few days but instead we went to some really nice (but no beach vacation status) museums in São Paulo. I even got Gobind (who "hates art") to admit that he didn't have an awful time exploring the museums with me. I think in all we went to one museum about the dictatorship in Brazil and two (or three) regular art museums.

There was one other day with nice weather so we took advantage of the sun and general clear sky and went up in the highest building in São Paulo to see the city. It was a great view, although it's not the nicest looking city. We also toured around the city center, which included going to the first building in the city that is still standing and the massive cathedral that marks the exact center of São Paulo.

Besides these few excursions we did a lot of just hanging out at home. We cooked a lot, watched a bunch of movies, played some video games, read, and had some really deep heart wrenching conversations (minus the last thing, we don't talk, what do you think we are, social human beings?).

One thing I will say that Gobind was very good at introducing me to (besides his dislike for the majority of big cities in Brazil) was the traditional foods. We had some awesomely tasty things that I will probably crave in years to come. Passion fruit mousse (Mousse de Maracuja), a dulce de leche and chocolate sweet (Brigadiero), these cheese and veggie pastries (I don't remember the name), and the tastiest (gluten free) cheese bread ever. Think a Chinese tang yuan (glutinous rice ball, look it up! Or just look up Pão de Queijo) with cheese instead of sweet filling but with an initial crusty crunch.

The two weeks I spent in Brazil went by really quickly and I feel like we didn't even do that much because of the weather. It just means I have to go back during their summer when we can go lounge on the beach and pretend like we're doing more than lounging around inside the house on the couch. Also, I made friends with their scrappy cat, so I gotta go back to visit her. 

Don't Rock The Boat, Rock The Kasbah: A Reunion In The Desert

Morocco is a mess. But if you know me at all you will know that as far as countries go, I kinda love when they are crazy. India has rubbed off on me in the sense that, the more struggle you have to go through to get simple things done (and seemingly less trouble for complex things), the more I like it! 

Now let me preface this with the knowledge that I was traveling with my mom, aunt, and cousin, all of whom did not really like Morocco. So the fact that I enjoyed myself the amount that I did is all on me. It might have been the week before I arrived in Marrakech when they went to Tangier, Fes, and Chev Chouin without me that colored their experience and if so, I'm glad I missed it!

I joined them in Marrakech at our Riad (hotel) in the Medina (old walled city). When I arrived the crazy man who ran the Riad let me in and gave me tea while I waited for the others return. He was extremely pleasant to me (but apparently an insane bully to the others). 

We spent three nights and two days in Marrakech, touring the city before we left on our epic tour of the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert. 

It was a chance to get out of the city and really see the beauty of Morocco. We drove quite a bit, but compared to the amount of driving on my Africa road trip it was pretty tame. We stopped a few times each day and had tea and snacks. We also had a lot of random picture breaks. That was nice because my cousin and I were able to get some really nice shots.

Our first day through the mountains was all about the Berbers. We saw village after village nestled into the desert peaks. Our main stop that day was at an ancient Kasbah where they now film things like Prince of Persia and Game of Thrones. I wish I cared more about Game of Thrones because I seem to be doing the tour of where it was filmed.

That night our hotel was lovely (besides my mom having bed bugs and waking me up at an ungodly hour to tell me so...), it was right next to this little river in the shade of a massive canyon wall. It was like our own little Moroccan Zion.

We woke up and headed for the Sahara with a few pit stops on the way (one that included a giant, adorable herd of goats). We arrived around sunset, tied our head wraps, and mounted the camels. It was time to make the trek into the desert, to camp over night. 

An hour later, through oceans of sand and cloudy skies (and only one stop, because my aunt had a bit of an up-chuck problem) we sauntered into a valley with one towering dune gaurding our camp from the elements. We left our camels and made our way to home for the night, just as the sun was disappearing for good. 

It was Friday night and of course being a Muslim country, Morocco has a pretty anti-alcohol culture. For us Jews, Friday means Shabat and with Shabos comes wine. Our guide was all to happy to provide us with an outlet to practice out faith. So we said some prayers had some bread and vino and than out came dinner. Now let me preface this with a few notes on being a vegitarian in Morocco: don't. Unless you are going to camp in the Sahara and have a traditional Berber family cook you their homemade Tajine and couscous. We had all been struggling with food up until then. My cousin is gluten free (amongst many allergies) and my mom and I don't eat meat. This dinner was so good though, it made up for the lack of edible meals on the whole trip (in my personal opinion). The best part was, we could all eat it!

The problem with the desert was that we landed there on a cloudy night, (which meant no stars) full of humidity and damn was it hot! The tent left no space for any air to enter and the stuffiness was oppressive. I was alright until our guide decided to close the front flap to the tent. After he did that I had enough, grabbed my sleeping bag, and laid down on the sand outside. Eventually I got a mattress and slept comfortably until just before sunrise.

Than we climbed. My cousin and I hike the dune to watch the sun and take some pictures that I'm sure we'll cherish for years. It was beautiful, like no sunrise I've seen before. 

Just after we made it back to camp it was time to pack up and head out! The camel ride back was just as beautiful as the ride there, but I was so tired I'm pretty sure I almost slid off and died...

At this point we were all exhausted of driving and just wanted to make it to our next destination (and final evening of the tour). We stayed at an Oasis hotel with palm trees everywhere and a lovely pool. It was so nice to shower for real after our desert adventure. 

On our final morning, after leaving the hotel, we made a stop in the local town so our guide, Abdul, could pick up some things to take back with him to the city. As we were sitting there waiting for him to come back, some random guy opens the front door and puts a watermelon inside. We all kinda looked at each other like, 'I hope he doesn't expect us to pay for that cuz none of us ordered a watermelon'. We were still sitting there trying to figure it out when another random guy opens the door and puts in another watermelon... At this point we figure Abdul must have ordered them but my cousin and I were sitting in the back laughing our heads off at the SNL style sketch unfolding before our eyes.

 

Than Abdul returned with two bottles of coke and we drove off. We ended up stopping at a residence on the way where there were two camels waiting in a pen. Without any of us really knowing what was going on, Abdul gives a bottle of the coke to one of the camels, who proceeds to chug the whole thing. The other one refuses until the owner of the place shows up with a bottle of tea (we know which camel is gonna live longer, that's for sure). 

We made it back to Marrakech without any other incidents out of a sketch comedy act and were dropped off at our hotels. Because my aunt and cousin were staying in Marrakech for a while and my mom and I were heading to Rabat we had different hotels. They ended up being about a five min walk away from each other, so my mom and I trekked over to the other hotel where somehow they had finagled a suite with a shower the size of my bedroom at home (no, not bathroom that size, SHOWER).

There was no way I was gonna leave that room without taking a shower in the monstrosity. The problem was I didn't have any conditioner. So we called down to ask the staff if they could bring some up. When the guy finally arrived (after the fourth call) he came in and went straight to the AC unit. "Air Conditioner?" He said. We all looked at each other and began to crack up! "No, no, HAIR Conditioner" replied my aunt. I didn't get any conditioner, but I took a shower and washed my hair, regardless.

That was the end of our little adventure with all four of us (it was also Mother's Day) so we celebrated and then said a giant 'see ya later' to my aunt and cousin. We had to be up pretty early the next morning to catch our train to Rabat, so we couldn't take the party too far into the night.

The next morning we made it onto our four hour train ride to the coast. We had a nice little compartment with three other ladies and one of their baby's. All was quite normal and relaxed, except every time another train passed us it sounded like something was exploding and I pretty much jumped out of my seat I was so startled. Turns out I should have jumped, because the third time we passed a train going the opposite direction the glass window literally fell out of the train and onto me. Luckily, it was solid enough not to shatter and it hit my arm and not my head but, the freaking train fell apart... onto me.

Once we got to Rabat, our first stop was going to be our hotel, which turned out to be quite far outside of the city, on the beach. So instead we got a cab to the Brazil consulate to try and get my visa. This visa had been stressing me out for the last few months. Since I found out I actually needed one and realized there was no way I was going to be able to get it while I was in London, (my original plan) Morocco was the only solution. Turns out it was the easiest thing. I showed up, they gave me an idea of what I needed to bring, gave me an appointment and voila! We went back that Thrusday and I had my visa.

In the meantime, a few days lounging in the sun on the beach was a great call. It was a little weird, seeing as we were in a Muslim country where the few women you did see on the beach were most definitely not even in bathing suits. There were a LOT of guys and very few women. I felt very much like a spectacle so I kept to our porch, inside our gated hotel area (it still looked right out onto the ocean and you could hear the waves). 

The big events of Temara (which was the name of this beach suburb) was the massive soccer infestation that happened in the evenings. As soon as people started getting off work, the air filled with yells and the sand filled with footprints. There was almost no space to sit for a good few hours before sunset. The men all migrated there, to spend some time soaking up the sun, as they excercised and socialized to the rhythm of fútball.

We spent three days there and than two days in Salé, a city right next to Rabat. Really only two metro stops away. The place we stayed at was one of four Riads in the whole Medina. It was a walled city for the people, with very little tourist activity. The Riad was gorgeous and the people who owned it were extremely helpful. This was by far the best Riad experience I had the whole trip. It was also easy enough to get into Rabat for my visa and our final day of Sukh shopping.

Our last stop was one night in Casablanca. The hour train ride was easy, even with all of our stuff (although, I'm sure my mom would beg to differ). 

Our main excursion that day (besides the grody dhaba-esque cafe we ate at) was to the main Mosque. It is the only Mosque in Morocco that non-Muslims are allowed inside of, except of course on Fridays. It just so happened that we were there on Friday. We didn't get to go inside, but this building was worth seeing just for the exterior. It was also quite interesting to see everyone there for services. The people watching nerd in me was excited beyond belief! 

On our way back to our hotel from the Mosque and Medina, we got a little lost and ended up right in front of the one Synagogue in Casablanca. We knocked and they let us in. It was Shabat (again) and we probably should have gone back for services, which would have been quite different and extremely interesting (I'm sure) but after a long day in the city we just wanted to crash. 

Instead of correcting our misdirection by walking all the back to our hotel, we hopped in a cab. The way they do taxis in Morocco is either you get a normal meter or you can take a shared taxi where a few different people who are going to different places, that happen to be in the same direction all take the same driver. This is what we did. We hopped in a cab that already had someone in it to drop us at our hotel. When we arrived my mom handed the cabby what it said on the meter, minus what it said when we got in. He was not too happy about this. The guy started yelling about how she had to pay a few Dirham more. My mom was all 'no, I saw what it said, that ain't how this is gonna work'. He got so pissed that he literally threw the coins at my mom and drove off. We were in shock and just kinda stood there, until some nice guy began picking the coins up for us. Than the cabbie came back. I handed him the money and we walked away, as shouts accosted us from behind. 

And that was my last day in Morocco. I cannot say it isn't an exciting country, that's for sure! 

The airport was easy and I even made some new friends on the flight from Casablanca to Madrid. Then I flew from Madrid to London where I had a day layover, but that's a story for another day and another post.

Sorry this was so long, but a lot happened in Morocco. So much, in fact, I couldn't even get it all in here. 

From Scotland to Ireland to Wales: A Cathedral, A Castle, and A Bar (But Not In That Order)

Sorry this is coming so late but I had a phone malfunction and than I was uninspired since I lost all my notes...

But even though I fell off the face of the planet, I will backtrack and give you a summation of my travels in the UK (and Ireland).

I left London obscenely early in the morning on the 24th of April. This would have been easier if the Tube was actually open. I ended up getting a cab for like £10. Not too bad.

The nice thing about going so early was that I just crashed on the train and woke up at about 10am in Glasgow. I dragged my stuff to my hostel, which I could not yet check into but I dumped it there and went wondering. 

I ended up at the Glasgow contemporary museum for a quick visit before meeting up with a friend from Mount Holyoke who is now living in Scotland. 

The next few days were a joy! Jazz and I toured around, saw new sites, and generally just hung out. I got to immerse myself in the Scottish life (even with an American tour guide). There were a few really weird incidents, one being when some incredibly awkward Scottish dude (who thought I was Bulgarian) engaged me in a conversation I would never want to have again (and don't think I ever could because of how weird it was) while I was waiting to meet Jazz at subway. It was beyond bazaar.

My days in Scottland seemed to always begin at the Apple store (regardless of where Jazz and I originally intended to meet up), because they have internet. Started at the Apple store and ended on the clockwork orange (which is what they adorably call their subway in Glasgow).

My plan from Scotland was to travel through the night so I wouldn't have to pay for a hostel and so I wouldn't waste my precious daylight getting from Glasgow to Dublin. It was generally a good idea, it just felt like it took forever! Especially since I had to take two trains, a bus, a taxi, and a ferry. In total it was about a 12 hour trip, but felt like 3 days.

Luckily some seriously interesting and laughable events occurred to keep the trip interesting. 

I missed the bus I was supposed to take from my first train to the second because we arrived at the station about 7 minutes late. One of the ladies who worked at the station organized me a cab (since it wasn't my fault we didn't arrive on time). There was another lady there who also needed to get to Chester (where my next train was leaving from), so she joined me in the cab.

At one point in our conversation she explained to me, "I work with addiction and I was just at a conference all weekend. We just drank the whole time and I'm quite a light weight, so I'm excited to get home."

Me: *really*? Addiction? Drank all weekend? Ok...

I was dropped off and got a nice sandwich and almond tart during my hour wait. While waiting for the train to Lludhadno (or whatever it was called) I overheard an interesting conversation. 

Kid: you don't want to drive

Mom: that's right

Kid: it's cuz you're drunk right 

Mom: yes

Me: *double take*

I guess this is pretty normal for a Saturday night in Wales. But the delivery was so matter of fact it threw me for a loop.

I finally made it to the ferry and attempted to sleep but couldn't get comfortable awkwardly lying on my bag.  Instead I started up a conversation with this nice elderly man. Of course I go and find not only the one person in Ireland who has been to New Mexico but this guy actually lived there for like 5 years. He even knew where Española was, such a shocker! The ferry was uneventful, but waking up at the port to a gorgeous sunrise made my day.

After I FINALLY got to my hostel, I checked in, dumped my bags, and crashed on the lobby couch until my room was ready at 11am. Luckily, I woke up to about 5 random British douche guys sitting around me on the same couch, so that was awesome... I must have been quite a sight, dragging my exhausted, disheveled self with my hair all bed head and my glasses askew (not sure about this part, but I bet they were) past them, after being sprawled on the sofa next to them for a few hours, to take the elevator. Yup, making friends!

My only venture out that day was to the grocery store to buy dinner (turns out traveling all night doesn't always save you time... Only money).

There was this child at the grocery store in Dublin, who after cutting the check out line and running outside to join his friends starts yelling: "Everyone in there is legend! They all let me skip the queue. Every one of them is fucking legend." All I could think was, how old are you? Cuz he looked about five.

Now that I was officially on my own in a new city, I went exploring. I literally just walked around Dublin all day. It was lovely weather and a great solo adventure. However, I realized there was not much more for me to go see the next day and so when I got back to the hostel I booked a tour up to Northern Ireland. 

The next morning nice and early I set put for the Giants Causway and Belfast with my super international tour group. This was one of the best ideas ever; it was breathtaking! Also, Belfast was real interesting. It's like a completely different world than Dublin. You can totally tell that it's a different country.

That was my short stay in Ireland. Out of all the places on my Euro/UK trip, Ireland is the only one I think I'd go back to. I feel like there are some cool country pubs and cottages to be explored.

My time in Cardiff was less enjoyable. It's a cool city but generally, meh. I really loved the train ride there though, the north of Wales is more spectacular than anywhere else I've been (that might be an exaggeration, but it was cool). It's got the picturesque villages classic of England set on one side against the foggy coast and on the other against mountain cliffs. 

The most exciting thing I did in Cardiff was venture to the Doctor Who experience exhibition. It was a museum/theme park mashup, full of fellow nerds. As cool as that was, I wouldn't make an extra trip to Cardiff to go there again.

I wrapped up my stay on the British Isles at Oxford visiting Hari Rai who is at a creative writing grad program there. We had a lovely time, with the sun and the tea and the academia. We also got to see where the filmed a lot of Harry Potter (mostly the great hall and the academic stuff). 

We thought we would go punting (which is kinda like rowing a gondola but on a little river in Oxford and you get to drive it yourself) but the punts were all booked up for the Saturday that I was there and Hari Rai wasn't free on Sunday.

Instead the plan became Monday morning before I lwas set to leave to catch my airplane to Morocco. This was all good to go until... 

The night before, after an attempted software update my phone died. By died I mean, it decided that it needed to wipe itself clean and revert to factory settings. This usually would be alright except I have been traveling with no computer for five months, so I have not been able to creat a backup to restore my phone after it's tantrum. 

Eventually I had to accept that the only way for me to have a functional device, (at this point that was more important than all my notes and photos) was to continue with the update. This meant no punting. It also meant you guys got to wait EXTRA long for a new post! 

Coming soon... MOROCCO!

Keep Calm And Try Not To Go Broke

London is so expensive!

After traveling in countries like Bangladesh and Zimbabwe I have become used to the dirt cheap prices of an exchange rate unfairly in my favor. The shock of coming to London and suddenly paying $4 for a subway ride (as apposed to the rs. 20 in India, which I believe is like 4 cents) was really disconcerting. Luckily, you can mostly get away with going to free activities in the city but there is still food and transportation that you have to pay for. I wouldn't say I'm cheap when it comes to traveling but this is just ridiculous!

Beside that though, London is as lovely (and as rainy) as ever. I had some great adventures both by myself and with my awesome friends and family. Elanna and I went to Rochester (where Dickens lived) one day and spent time with her distant cousins. It was quite stuffy, traditional British town complete with super nice and very proper people (It just makes me realize how insane my extended family back home actually is...)

We also took a day and wondered down by the Thames. We saw Big Ben and The London Eye, which I have seen recently but Elanna had only been to when she was 5, so it was a mandatory tourist visit. We also made our way down to The Globe Theatre. Luckily, that day was not rainy, it was sunny and beautiful (for England). We even stopped at this little book market and bought Elanna this beautiful old copy of a Dickens book (don't remember which one).

The first day I arrived (before Elanna was there) I wondered around Camden and Euston all the way down to Bakers St. I did the whole, local, taking a day off thing. Bought a book, sat in a cafe, and enjoyed not being a tourist for a change. That's one of my favorite things to do when I first arrive in a city. It orients me in a strange way (seeing as I'm not really seeing the city). I think it gives me a chance to regroup and collect myself from a relaxed location while still interacting with the local people. Who really knows...

I also picked the perfect, gross, cold day to check out The Tate Modern (not the same day as the cafe wondering). I spent 8 hours in that museum... So. Much. Art. It felt like someone just vomited ALL of art history into one massive brick building. It was cool getting to see it all laid out in that way though. They have a ridiculous permanent collection. I mean, who even needs special exhibits when it's that extensive!

The last little adventure I took was out to zone 5 (if you don't know anything about the London tube, it is separated into different zone areas, 1-5. Zone 1 is central London and it goes out on both sides from there). I met Tarun, who is a friend of mine from India, in his hometown at Rayners Lane. We played pool and caught up on life and saw a really intense bar fight. Like a proper blood down the guys whole face fight. It was quite scary. However, the rest of that day was nice and relaxed.

I also got to catch up with my lovely cousin Allie (who I'll be meeting in Morocco along with our mothers in a few weeks). Don't worry, I won't give you any more spoilers. After spending a splendid week staying with my friend Sisi, I crashed with Allie the night before I headed up on a 5:40am train to Glasgow.

It was the way to travel. I crashed on the ride and woke up at 10:30am at the Glasgow central station. I walked a block or two, found my hostel, dumped my bags and am exploring until I'm allowed to check in. I am now in Scotland, totally ready to properly set out all by myself for a little bit.

The Ultimate Schmee-Venture Part 3: This Is Africa

Just to clue you all in, Goats For Superman Country, is not a thing but it should be!

For some odd reason when we were driving through Botswana, there was a sign that said GFS Country. We had no idea what this stood for but the amount of goats we had seen on the road thus far meant that 'Goats For Superman' was the only explanation.

Anyways, last we heard our young explorers were in Walvis Bay with Bhaj's family. There were only a few days left of the Africa adventure but they turned out to be much more eventful than imagined. What should have been a straight shot to the Western Cape, turned hectic really quickly.

After two days in relative civilization, which consisted of dune climbing (and running down), pelican and flamingo watching, and of course a Braai (barbecue), we set out on our last little push before reaching the farm in Robertson and then Cape Town.

That night we made it just past the Namibia/South Africa boarder. We thought about camping by the Orange river, right past the border, but once we failed miserably scouting out a good location the only reasonable next step was to move on.

We ended up finding a campsite that must have been the coolest yet. It was off the road onto some flat, solid, dirt expanse that was punctuated by what looked like massive rock piles. This was terrain right out of a Mars science fiction novel. It was also far enough off the main road that there was absolutely no one around (not so much of a blessing, it turns out). The other great thing was, since we were in the desert, no Mosquitos (well, no bugs at all really). This meant we could sleep with the doors open. If you've ever seen the night sky in the desert or in non-city Africa, you'll understand how amazing that was, if you haven't, go! Do it!

The trouble started the next morning as we got ready to get back to the main road. Bhaj seemed to be quite set on exploring our surroundings via car before we headed out. This was fine, until we hit a patch of sand that (like Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings) would not let us pass.

We ended up spending 7hours digging ourselves out of the quicksand. In that time we only moved 14meters, that is 2meters an hour. At first we had no clue how we were going to get out. Bhaj tried just digging but that did not work. In the end we found some big (relatively flat) rocks and put them in front of our tires to inch onto. Having two wheel drive meant we only had the front to worry about and also that we were essentially dragging the back of this delivery van through the sand. After we inched onto the first rocks, we put some more in front of those and inched onto them, and continued doing this until we were finally out.

The verbal excitement that we both let out when the van finally drove from the pit of doom, probably woke some sleeping goblins, somewhere. It was one of the most fantastic moments of my life seeing that thing actually drive.

Working from 9:30am til 4:30pm in the middle of the desert, is not my idea of a good time. All it means is sunburn, dehydration (regardless of the excessive amounts of water we consumed), and exhaustion.

I don't even remember the drive from there to Robertson (besides the most incredible sunset I think I've ever seen, complete with double rainbow).

We arrived to the farm at midnight and crashed. That was enough excitement to last through the next days of relative monotony that is an Eco-village farm.

I spent a few relaxing and welcomed uneventful days, cooking with fresh vegetables from the garden, catching up on internet, and playing with cats, dogs, horses, and pigs. Once I got my fill of the retired life, I headed into Cape Town.

I spent four lovely days in Cape Town and needed about 40 more. I saw old friends, walked around the city, was hit by the largest wave of nostalgia in my whole life, and saw an incredible exhibit at the National Gallery. It was a short yet extremely sweet visit that will have to be repeated sometime soon, definitely with more time allotted.

Now a few little facts, before we leave the Africa roadtrip adventure too far behind.

The amount of money we paid out to police as bribes for our trip was 1300 ($130) rands in tickets only 100 rands of which was legal. The legal bit went to a police man in Zim who actually wrote us out a ticket. We paid 300 in Namibia, 900 in Mozambique (700 to one guy and 200 to another) and nothing in Botswana (where I think we only saw one cop the entire time)

The things on our driving that we almost hit (this doesn't include the thousands of bugs and butterflies we did massacre, sorry). We barely missed a cow in SA; a chicken, a rabbit, and a kid in Mozambique; a goat in Zim; and a donkey in Botswana. There was also a police officer, but I don't remember where that was...

This reflects the living things we saw way too many of along the side of the road in each place. In Mozambique there was never a second that some person was not walking along the highway. In Zim, Goats! Botswana was the land of donkeys, and I'm pretty sure we didn't see any life, anywhere, in Namibia.

These two weeks were jam packed with action and the only regret I have about my entire time in Africa is that there wasn't more of it. Literally, if you ever go traveling through Africa, give yourself a year! At least!

I am now in London, missing Africa but becoming ever more excited to see where the road will lead me next.

The Ultimate Schmee-Venture Part 2: Goats For Superman (GFS) Country (cause what else could that stand for?)

When we left off, our hero's were just about to leave their comfortable beach cottage in pursuit of some danger and adventure.

The next step of our journey landed us right back in the heart of Mozambique. Leaving a bit late that day we did not cover much distance before dark arrived. We found a little corner to park the van (amongst tall grass and unbeknownst to us, a stones throw away from a little village).

Luckily, nothing happened that night and we set off for the province of Sofala. When we fist arrived at the Mozambican border in Swaziland we had been warned that there were rebels fighting in this area. We thought about changing our route but that would mean heading back along the road we came. Instead we asked at Turtle Cove. The lady there told us that as of this month there was officially two months of peace. This was enough assurance for us to push on.

When we got to the weigh bridge that marked the entrance into Sofala, the guards stopped us and in their broken English and my broken Spanish communicated to us that we would have to wait until 2pm (it was 11:30 at the time) to cross. As we waited in a little patch of shade, we saw groups of soldiers arriving in trucks, decked out in their uniforms with guns and amo.

That wait and the following convoy assembling that occurred after we crossed the bridge, were quite worrying. In fact, I felt most concerned before we actually headed into Sofala than I did the whole time we were there. The convoy was 130K of slow buses and annoying cars trying to overtake, but at least we didn't get killed by bandits.

The next day we crossed the border into Zimbabwe and as we did we both let out a unison sigh of relief. We were finally free from the prison of coconuts (which I mentioned in the last post and goes back to a little comment from a friend of mine in India about Amritsar being a prison of butter. Those of you who have lived there know what I mean...) and on into Zim where the landscape was breathtaking, the weather was cool and crisp, and the people were super chill. We went through ridiculous police road blocks in Mozambique and ended up paying 900rands in bribes, whereas in Zim when we got to the same checkpoints, the police would stop us purely to ask how our day was and than let us continue. We ended up paying 100rands and the dude actually wrote us out a ticket and everything, no pocketing the cash at all.

Besides the Zim people being chill, the roads were actually drivable. We even were able to go off the highway onto a main road (and it was still nicer than the one highway in all of Mozambique). Who would have thought!

That day we spontaneously stopped at the Save River (Rio de Save in Portuguese, since we had passed it in Mozambique as well). To make it even better we decided to jump in and go for a swim. The water was clean and refreshing (tip number 135, when roadtripping one should never give up the chance to bathe).

It was as if this day couldn't get any better, until we found the perfect camping place. Down a dirt road and under the most picturesque African tree. We arrived at sunset and set up camp. Under the most magnificent stars I have ever seen in my life we retired and watched the Lion King (yes, we are major cheese balls).

The morning came too early with regret that we would be leaving Zim. With this sadness, however, was the excitement of exploring Botswana.

I thought people couldn't get much chiller than Zimbabweans, until we were in Botswana. Beside the fact that they have like half the population so you scarcely even run into people anywhere, those you do meet are lovely (and I don't remember ever being stopped at a police check point).

That day we drove through the land of Bushman. It was a long, hot, pretty boring day. The landscape was virtually unchanging and flat, and the sun beat down through the windows. Somehow, even though this day was longer than the one from Maputo to Inhambane, it was not nearly as stress inducing.

We pitched camp quite early that evening in the middle of some salt pans. As we sat and watched the sunset a woman and her child from a nearby village stumbled over to us as she herded her cattle. We struck up a conversation. I ended up getting a picture and she got some of our extra yams (that we bought in the Plumtree market earlier that day).

The next morning we headed towards the Namibian border. Driving through the Kalahari, all I wanted to do was jump into some water. The map even showed me that there would be a lake on the way, just after we passed the base of the Okavango Delta. Unfortunately, that dang thing lied to me. There was no lake, only more of the same flat, boring landscape that we had grown accustomed to seeing in Botswana.

We didn't quite get to Namibia that day, instead we camped in the desert. We pulled off of yet another road to camp near a tree, this time amongst hundreds of locusts (but much fewer Mosquitos, so that was nice.)

The next days journey, took us through yet another border, and yet another currency change. We headed towards Walvis Bay, where Bhaj has family. Heading towards his Aunts place we drove, and drove, and drove some more. Pretty soon we went from the prairie right into the heart of the desert. There really is nothing like sitting in a car and just watching as the landscape shifts, right before your eyes.

As we got to Walvis we encountered one I the most incredible sunsets over the sand that came about due to the heavy mist that descended from the sea. It felt apocalyptic (not the first time on this trip). We decided to pull over and eat some leftover oatmeal from that morning and watch the sunset. We would have to arrive at our destination in the dark anyways.

We arrived and had a nice meal, some hot tea, a refreshing shower, and warm bed. Of course this was after we spent a few hours joking around with Bhaj's aunt, uncle, and cousin.

The saga will continue with the rest I our stay in Walvis and the journey to Cape Town. Just hang tight.

The Ultimate Schmee-Venture Part 1: Prison of Coconuts

We set off at 7pm from the factory, only to return five minutes later to get a forgotten tire gauge. Eventually, after settling all of our previously forgotten errands we headed out, for real.

The drive that night was dark and shrouded in fog. We made it out of Johannesburg eastward towards Swaziland. The border closed at 10pm and due to our late start we had to make due pulling off the road before we made it there, so we could find an adequate camp site. We ended up stumbling upon the perfect place. It was close to the road, yet still secluded enough. We had a forest on one side and an open view of the hills and mountains on the other. This made the next morning absolutely lovely. We woke up, had a breakfast of oatmeal and rooibos tea, packed up the van and headed to the border.

Crossing was easy. When we arrived in Swazi, our initial reaction was an apocalypse had hit. The highway was deserted at 11am and covered in a fine layer of red dust. But as we drove through the country I became enamored with the relaxed atmosphere of the mountain kingdom and it's gorgeous scenery. I did not begrudge them their lack of people.

For lunch we stopped under the shade of a tree by a massive cornfield and chowed down before Bhaj took a two hour nap. I wandered a bit, read, and generally lounged in the road trip vibes.

By the time we made it to the other side of the country, I regretfully accepted leaving Swazi for Mozambique, which promised beaches and tropical weather. However, the border crossing became a journey of its own.

At first it seemed easy. Stamp your passport, on your way. But when the guard at the gate asked for the car registration and Bhaj shook his head saying we didn't have it, the problems began. Apparently in SA no one carries their car registration with them in the car because you don't ever need it, I know, I was as shocked as you!

Sitting in the police captains office, I began to wonder whether we would even be able to continue our trip. The captain rambled on about rebels in Mozambique (which ended up being accurate, but that's a different story) and corrupt police (also accurate) who would take thousands from us for not having the right papers. Oh yeah, and also the fact that no, we would not in fact be allowed to leave Swazi without the registration.

Luckily, thinking on my toes, I suggested that we have one of Bhaj's employees at the factory scan and email the document to print. It wouldn't be the original but the police reluctantly agreed. He made sure to throw in a "you're free to do that but I am warning you, those guys over there will not like it" (barely anyone has said anything. I say barely because we did have to bribe one guy who noticed.)

Oh, but the never ending border saga does not conclude there. After two hours waiting to get online, so we could sort out our papers, we made it across to the Mozambican side of patrol. Here I had to get myself a visitors visa, which was a breeze, but what was not so easy was the "insurance". Bhaj had insurance coverage from SA, however, the stupid guy who got it for him wrote on the document that it only covered Botswana (not true and also the only place they didn't ask for any). We argued with the skechty "insurance" guy who was sitting outside of the patrol station waiting for his next victims, that we did, in fact, have coverage. "This will not work here in Mozambique," he said "the police will take all your money." (Hmmm... That sounds familiar.) We ended up buying the 150rand ($15) policy, just in case.

By this time we were done, it was already past 8pm, which is when the border officially closed. The gate had been shut and everyone was leaving. "You will have to sleep here tonight" said the guard at the door (luckily he was joking and eventually let us through).

Into Mozambique we went, ready to pass out from the unexpected problems we ran into. However, we chugged on until we got to Maputo. A city I have now only seen in the dark. Not regrettably so, although I'm sure it is lovely. We ended up 'camping' in the parking lot of a navel (yacht) club right by the ocean.

Waking up the next morning covered in sweat and surrounded by sounds of cars whizzing by, added to the atmosphere of city dwelling that we had spontaneously found ourselves in. Such vagabond we became. Camping in the back of a van, in a random parking lot, albeit by the ocean (Oh, how the mighty have fallen.)

With no oatmeal breakfast that morning, we headed off. Our destination? Turtle Cove, in Inhambane (really though, it's in Praia de Tofu. Yep, Tofu Beach).

We got a bit lost on our way out of Maputo and ended up in this little village right off the ocean. It had these gorgeous red dirt roads and some very friendly people who pushed our van to get the tire unstuck (one of the three times this happened that day). As we were trying to find our way to the main road we stopped to ask these two ladies waiting for a minibus. "Is this the way to the highway?" She mumbled something in Portuguese and than began to open the van door to get in the back. I was quite shocked until I realized they wanted a ride to the next town. I guess at that point what else was there left to do on our adventure except pick up some hitchhikers (turns out there was a lot more).

The eventful bit of that day (beside the hitchhikers, successfully making sandwiches for lunch while Bhaj continued on driving and the epic car battery charging contraption we made) was the lady I saw standing on the side of the road, signaling us with a bow and arrow in her left hand and a white rabbit in the right (as if I can understand ancient alien greetings, jeez). It was also quite entertaining when Bhaj got the van stuck trying to harvest coconuts, which are now rattling around in the back, amongst our food, water, and bedding.

Speaking of getting the van stuck. We had about three instances on that long drive to Tofu, where the sand was just too much. Whether it was some backroad that we never should have been on, coconut harvesting, or really just trying to get to our lodging, that thing got itself stuck. Every time that happened, superBhaj came to the rescue with his tire gauge, knife, and shovel.

After we finally made it to our little slice of paradise, we took much needed showers and slept in proper beds. We awoke to a tropical oasis and headed down to the beach. I am convinced that this area would be the best place in the world to honeymoon. It's quite, secluded, and beautiful. A spectacular beach setting without the obnoxious tourists and tourism industries. But I would fly directly in and not deal with driving from SA.

After our beach recoup we hit the road again. We were going to go on an ocean safari and see whale sharks but the other people who were to come with us bailed. We waited around all morning just to find out it was a no go. That just meant we could hit the road earlier.

So, off we set on the next part of our journey...

To be continued...

Ah Incredible India!

The long awaited India post is finally here! Unfortunately, I am no longer on the subcontinent and have not been for a good week, but I promised a little recap of my adventures there, so here goes.

When we left Bangladesh, Maureen and I were ready for the 14 hour bus ride, but we were not prepared for the youth hostel it would lead us to. I chose the one that was right in the middle of town (much nicer location, I thought) without any other info about the place. Little did I know, it would be the actual sketchiest place I have ever stayed. This hostel, besides being pretty gross (since they gave us a worse room then we originally reserved for our first night there) was in the center of an electrical market, down a random alleyway and up three flights of stairs that I'm pretty sure were straight out of the shinning.

Needless to say, Kolkata welcomed us with open arms and terrifying sleep. Luckily the next morning we got to move to a much nicer room (that actually had space to move and didn't quite make me feel like I should burn my skin to get the dirt off). After getting ready we went straight to the Indian Museum, stopping to have breakfast at the only restaurant we ate at in Kolkata (because it was close, delicious and relatively clean). Had some awesome uttapams and later tasty dosas.

The museum (amongst many other things in this city) sent me straight back to the heart of darkness (colonialism reference?). They still had the old classification system for their animal collections and there wasn't really any art, which was our whole reason of going there. It may have been a total bust, except as we were leaving they had an impromptu cultural show (it was actually planned, but felt very random to us due to our perfect timing) complete with singing, dancing, fire and a lot of standing on each other acrobatics.

The only logical step after leaving the museum was attempting to crash the Oberoi (an expensive ass hotel chain that they have all over India), which was right next door. We got in successfully and after using the pristine bathroom, we were caught trying to sit by the pool and order tea. Yeah, we were not really guests but whatever.

The rest of that day is a blur to me, because it was kinda awful, until we stumbled upon a Cafe Coffee Day. This pretty much saved me at that point. I have never in my life been that excited to see a bad, Indian, chain coffee shop. Even without wifi it was a saving grace.

Day two in Kolkata was significantly better. It was actually really great! We saw the Cathedral and the Queen Victoria Memorial/Museum (more colonialism). We also, finally, got our art fix. Went to two really cool and super different galleries and in the evening stopped by the fine arts school for a smorgasbord of different student shows. During our chai break afterwards we sat outside amongst the artists of Kolkata and chatted about some pretty high-brow stuff. I don't know if you guys could deal with it...

Day three meant waking up at 4:30am to catch our flight to Delhi. Once we got there we settled into our (much nicer) hostel and went to the train station to head to the Taj Mahal. After realizing that it would be obscenely difficult to try and do everything ourselves via train travel we hired a car and driver and we were off!

The Taj never ceases to amaze me. This was my third time going and it is still incredible and breathtaking and all the rest. I'm super glad I got to take Maureen there, cuz what kind of friend would I be if I let someone come to India and not go to the Taj? (but really).

Day four was Maureen's last day and so we packed our stuff, met up with a fellow MoHo, Ajapa, who is studying at JNU in Delhi, and went to the red fort in old Delhi or "the real Delhi" as some call it. After getting rained out we went to the local mall for a complete 180 experience of India's largest northern city.

Day five, after we saw Maureen off we went wandering around Hauz Kass market and ruins. This is hands down my favorite (and only worthwhile) place in Delhi. It's super duper cool! Artsy and chill with really interesting shops and hip young people. Like the Greenwich Village of India. It gave me hope that perhaps Delhi isn't the awful sinkhole I thought it was (is that too harsh?).

That evening I said goodbye to Ajapa and caught a train to Chandigarh. When I got there Maninder, his friend, and brother picked me up. They whisked me off to their uncles place in Mohali. Maninder and I stayed up chatting till like 3am, catching up and such. It was really nice to see him after so long but was quite a shock after hanging with MoHo women up until then. I went from colonialism meaning something about white oppression and empire building to "when I hear colonialism it reminds me of a colon". Regardless of the vast change in company and conversation it was a blast!

Day six was an adventure in Chandigarh. We went to the lake and the mall and just generally made a ruckus. I rode a camel and a dragon boat and ate at Chilli's (in a mall that felt like being back in the states). We also went on a little walk and watched a random volleyball game in the park.

Day seven I was lectured by Maninder's uncle after they left to go back to school. It was quite awkward being there alone, so I retreated to my room the whole time (in order to avoid the inevitable uncomfortable interaction). However, he made a really great point that got me to re-evaluate my previous tactic. "How do you want to be remembered?" he said, "by being that girl who sat up in her room reading the whole time you were staying with us? Or by this conversation and interaction?" I definitely want to be remembered by the interactions I have with people and not my solitude. So, I shall continue to work on getting over my hesitations and personal discomforts to try and make an actual impact, wherever I am.

That night I took a train and ended up in Amritsar. The second I got off I felt like I was home. It was awesome just knowing the city I was in and being able to check my bullshit radar against actual knowledge. Like, hell no Chheharta gurdwara is not MPA, rickshaw driver who thinks I'm some dumb, white, American who has never been to India in my life!!

I got to Miri Piri Academy (the school that I went to in Amritsar for 6years) at about 9pm, got settled in, and went right to sleep.

The next day began my epic, whirlwind tour de Amritsar. With town leave everyday on the back of someone's motorbike (or occasionally a cab), awesome Amritsari food (kulcha, Bhrawan, chai, chat, kulfi, sweets, chana/puri, etc.) and some really enjoyable hang out time with people at the school (let's not forget Saturday Seva and the seven hour wait at the Golden Temple). It was such a spontaneous visit in that I didn't really have any plans so I just went along with whatever was happening. The entirety of my interactions were, "Hey Dharma, wanna go to town?" "Umm... Yes, of course!" Or "True Detective, anyone?"

A few other awesomely random sights on the trip were a herd of sheep (not just one, an entire herd, complete with Shepard) in the busy road amongst cars, bikes, motorbikes, and buses. They were just chilling there waiting at a red light. I had to do a double take before I realized how ridiculous it was.

In other side of the road news, a Barber shop has opened up outdoors somewhere on the sidewalk in Delhi. Mirrors awkwardly strung to a brick wall and barely enough room to walk by without going into the road. That's definitely where I would get my hair cut!

We were lucky enough to get invited to tea by everyone (and their mother) who we interacted with for the whole three weeks. Whether it was shoemakers, tourist agents, or drivers, the chai was plentiful.

All in all India was as lovely, gross, uplifting, and frustrating as ever and I cannot wait until the next time I get to go back! 

Just In Case Once Wasn't Enough

So it was brought to my attention that my last post reeked of white guilt. Let me just clear something up. That wasn't exactly what I was getting at. It was more a class guilt than race thing. I saw privilege working between myself (as an American citizen and not as a 'white person') and Aniqa's family/friends and between them and the 'average' Bengali. It's not that race doesn't play a major part but it does so in a different way, and not one that I'm entirely 'guilty' about.

What I am upset about (that could manifest as guilt) is nationality as a general concept. Like, why the hell do we even do that at this point in time? Isn't it time we stopped managing where people are allowed to go based off of where they are from. It just seems to me like everyone should be able to go wherever, if they want to. Or maybe if we focused more on catering to what people want as their way of life in their home 'nation' and less on simple trying to keep others who strive for an "improved" way of life out, we'd be more successful as a society.

I'm not really sure, but I'm just rambling. So I'll get back to Part II of my introspective psychoanalysis...

Now, a bit about race. I know that being white in Asia makes you stick out like a sore thumb, but I'm used to that. When there is little racial diversity (I know there is actually quite a bit but it's not exactly visible) it's easy to pick me out of a crowd. Although I have an easier time blending in because of my height, coloring, and general understanding of Indian culture (not that I'm claiming it in any way as my own), I am still only 'passing' in the instances when I am mistaken for an Indian (which happens surprisingly often).

This whole idea of 'passing' is a tough concept for me, mostly because it hits so close to home. I kinda feel like I am constantly 'passing'. In the states (western world) I 'pass' as American. It's not that I am not 'Merican', it's more that my cultural background contains more experience outside of the States, which is unrecognizable simple by appearance. I literally grew up outside of the U.S. Yet, when I am in India I also don't quite fit.

It's an odd feeling to never quite feel like you belong in a culture. I don't think I am fully comfortable anywhere, which manifest in a need to belong everywhere (at least for me). I always strive to find what I identify with, wherever I am. I think this is my way of accepting my chameleon-like abilities. If I am capable of 'passing' why not embrace that function and use it to my advantage. So I seek out anyways I can feel as if I blend in, even if that is not the case at all.

It sometimes is even fun to just drop the information about how much I actually don't fit peoples preconceived notions and see the reaction. For example, in New Zealand we were at these hot springs in Rotarua and I was having this conversation with some local. He decided he was going to try and be clever and guess my name. He landed on Alexandria (cuz he thought it must be something abnormal or exotic...). To his amazement it was abnormal but much more so than his initial idea. At one point in this conversation (which was more of a guessing game on his part) he tried to analyze who I was and decided I was an average American girl (or something of that nature). I proceeded to let him know that I lived in India for six years and am Sikh. Mind. Blown.

This sort of thing happens everywhere, often, and with multiple races, ethnicities, and cultures. I've learned to just laugh it off, but that is my usual coping mechanism when I simply don't know how to deal with a situation. I'm sure at some point (just like this privilege dilemma) I'm going to have to more properly evaluate my jumbled up identity but that seems like too much work at the present moment. Also, the universe hasn't given me a direct reason or need to do so. Thus, it shall happen later... If at all.

I know I said I'd talk more about my touristy adventures but I wasn't finished letting you all into my head for a bit. I promise PROMISE next time I'll give you an India play by play. Maybe even some funny anecdotes.

Bangladesh: Inner Musings On An Unfair World

I'm sorry it's been a while. It was not by choice. Mainly it was a lack of internet mixed with my brain not being able to organize thoughts. I still have not quite been able to put everything eloquently but I thought I'd give you something.

In terms of touristy things you haven't missed much in my life. My adventures have been more internal the last few weeks. Since arriving in Bangladesh I spent time in Dhaka and a few days in Kushtia (a small, proper Bengali village). This time in Bangladesh was eye opening (but I'll get to that in a bit). After Dhaka, I spent two days in Kolkata (after a 14hour bus trip) with Maureen who is a friend from Mount Holyoke who came along to Bangladesh. We saw so much art! Like proper contemporary Indian art. And experienced diary hand how creepy colonialism can really be. Kolkata is ridiculously historic. The whole time I just wanted to jump back to the 18th century so I could be on a trading ship at the height of this cities growth. Than again, colonialism is seriously shitty, so there is another conundrum.

I think something I have been realizing and struggling with due to this section of my trip, is the very real fact that there are levels of privilege. I knew that this was true on an intellectual level, but the more of the world I'm interacting with (from vastly different avenues) is making it tangible to me in an all too apparent way.

For example, my friend Aniqa (who I stayed with in Bangladesh) and her family/friends are very privileged according to Bengali standards. I never really thought much about the difference between our worlds (even while at her house) because she lives a very "western" lifestyle. Yet, we were having a discussion about traveling (or work or something along those lines, very standard) and someone brought up the fact that it was quite easy for me to be traveling the way that I am (no prior planning) regardless of how much or little I am spending, because I have an American passport. This means I don't have to deal with getting visas (for the most part) and when I do it's relatively easy.

This thought really stuck with me. To me it speaks to privilege; from my own, to Aniqa's, to the 'Bua' who helps out at her house with cooking, cleaning, and such. But it speaks to more than that as well. It frustrates me because the assumption that being a certain nationality inherently privileges one person over another. By the mere fact that I was born in a certain location, I am extended a right of human movement that many others are not. This is something I have been upset about before but in this circumstance there is a direct impact on my world. It put the whole 'check your privilege' into a whole new light.

I saw the epitome of unfair privilege on much smaller scales all over Bangladesh. We were riding on these pallet bike ricksha things (van-garies) on our way to where we stayed in the village, Kushtia. I was sitting on the back watching everything pass by with my legs dangling off. The same vehicle contraption behind me/us had two middle aged, perfectly healthy men riding on it. They looked relatively well off; nice clothes, showered, etc. The man who was driving the cart was visibly lower on the figurative 'totem pole'. He was obviously working to make his living and they were just lazily taking a ride. The thing that hit me hard about this (since I have been on my fair share of ricksha rides and I have been the 'privileged' so many times) was that the driver, bike rider was cripple. His feet were both deformed and yet here he was working hard, making his living through manual labor (and not begging). The two men riding were perfectly able bodied but seemed to be squandering their ability to walk normally. It just makes my heart want to explode a little...

In a lot of ways I admire the driver. He was dealt a tough hand and instead of folding he was pushing through the life blocks. However, I was yet again confronted with this total inequality and instead of feeling lucky for my lot in life, I just feel like crap. I have so much and what am I doing? I'm fulfilling some flighty dream of traveling the world. I am looking out for myself when comparably I do not need anymore privilege. I haven't quite wrapped my head around this massive web of inequality that I am so tangled up in, but I am trying. I feel like everyday on this trip I shed a few more layers of an onion, thus filling my eyes up with even more tears. In other words, the more I seem to understand the more confused I become.

Anyways, here is a Rohim anecdote (to lighten things up a bit!) This kid (who is the child of the 'help' that Aniqa's family has) really likes to poke the cat (kitkat) that Aniqa's brother Zia rescued. So he was doing this at one point and Aniqa's father catches him. He tells him "Rohim, that is not allowed, hasta (gently)" and shows him how to stroke the cat. The next day a bunch of bags full of stuff was delivered to the house. Rohim's first reaction was to go up and start poking it to see what was inside. Right as he does this the father walks in. Rohim immediately, without skipping a beat looks up at him and starts stroking the bags, with a 'I know I can't poke them but stroking is allowed, yes?' He's just such a little rascal!

What a mad house. Between this kid (who is basically a cat), an actual kitten, and Aniqa's family themselves. It was so much more entertaining just staying at the house than even going anywhere, which took about 50% longer than needed. When we did go out and about we were gawked at for being white (as usual), or sneaking around rooftops with Aniqa's friends (who are essentially the 1% of Bangladesh).

This post can't even come close to expressing the internal struggles I am dealing with. Being exposed to a portion of a culture I grew up in, yet am distanced from, in a way that I can relate to intellectually and emotionally has been a lot to unload all at once. So ask me about it at some point and I'll most likely talk your ear off!

Maybe my next post will go more in depth into the things we did and events that occurred while in Bangladesh/India but for now, this has been a dose of psychoanalysis with Dharma!

Fireworks, Food, And... Rubber Ducks?

Well here I am in transit, again. I've gotten so used to the travel routine that I even have a preselected outfit that suits my comfort, temperature, and style needs. It's actually quite convenient.

This time I am on my way to Dhaka, Bangladesh. I shall be staying for a week and just like in Taiwan I will be visiting a friend from Mount Holyoke. Unlike Taiwan, I will be staying with her, another friend from the states, and her entire family. This shall definitely an experience.

One of the really great things about my time in Kaohsiung (besides Linnea, of course) was not having any authority figure to answer to, for the first time on this trip. As lovely as it was traveling with my family, I was always on their time, not mine. I got to hang out, sleep in or get up early and run my errands. It was all entirely up to me!

Even if I chose to be lazy sometimes, Nea and I still did most everything on our list. So... success! I think the only thing we didn't do was ride the Farris wheel (but I'm kinda totally fine with that).

As I predicted, we saw lovely sites, talked about important things, and ate yummy food! So much food! Great veggie buffets, the best roasted corn I've ever had, hot pot, and wonderfully warm, chocolaty filled cake things. We had Dan Bing (eggs and crepe type pancake) for breakfast almost everyday and tried lovely random treats (like these deep fried rice flour and sweet potato fritters) at night markets most nights.

I also finally got to eat this dessert that I have been craving since I was in China a few years ago. It's these glutinous rice balls, filled with sweet sugar paste (the ones I had in China were red beans and these were sesame, both equally delicious). They are kinda the weirdest things ever, but mostly super tasty. They look a little like hard boiled eggs, but more slimy, like eye balls (I know sounds good right?). They are pretty chewy with a slight sugary crunch in the center where the paste (and the taste) is.

I must be hungry...

Anyways we didn't only eat tasty food (but we did do a good deal of that, mmmm, Apple pie...) We also went with Nea's host family to a massive light festival at Fugungsheng (or Buddhaland as people fondly call it) complete with fireworks and bright, twinkling, colorful Buddha floats sat right next to the same but with Sebastian from the little mermaid. Apparently this place is really peaceful any other time you go there, but during the light festival it was packed and decked out! So beautiful, although the nickname it has been given was all too applicable.

Another wonderful outing we took was to monkey mountain. Neither of us were quite expecting the outcome of that trip. We though, 'oh, it'll be a nice little walk through the trees and we'll maybe see some monkeys.' We were wrong. A) it was much harder of a hike than we thought (especially in my almost completely broken soled boots) and B) we met this old woman who decided to be our guide and proceeded to invite us over to her and her husbands home for dinner. Since we couldn't stay (due to Linnea having to go take a test) she just dumped a bunch of fruit and sweets and such on us and I'm pretty sure now she is going to be Nea's Taiwanese mama. Regardless, it was strange, and lovely, pretty dang cool. We just acquired a random friend who turned out to be such a spectacular human.

As most of you hopefully know, I was in Sydney for New Years. I was not only at the harbor for the fireworks show, but in an unbelievably special location (easily the best view in the city). However, the Beehive firecracker festival in Tainan, Taiwan, makes Sydney look like that recreated Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas. Still pretty cool, much more glitzy and far less of the real thing. If Sydney was a sprint, this festival was a triathlon. Not only did we see some amazing fireworks (from directly underneath where they were being shot off), we also stood around and got voluntarily bombed by firecrackers. These things were not just cute little dinky lights in the sky, no, they hurt almost as bad as a relatively close range paintball shot that could burn you if you didn't quickly snuff it out. They had fire-waterfalls and dragon dances and unlike the Sydney show that lasted a good solid fifteen minuets, this thing went on for at least three hours (that's how long we stayed at least, but in reality it lasted from 7pm-3am).

Besides New Years in Sydney, we were also there for the Sydney festival, which is famous for this giant, inflatable, rubber duck that they have floating around in a harbor somewhere. The festival was happening while we were there, but we didn't get to see the duck. So you can imagine my excitement when I reached Taiwan and my friend Rob informed me that the duck had taken up residence in Kaohsiung, just where I was going! The truth is, it had... When I got there, however, it had apparently 'moved on'. This duck, has been outrunning me. I wouldn't be surprised if I show up in London and someone tells me that the frocking thing had been there for Easter or something and now it resided in Siberia for a final exhibition. Like, how am I ever gonna get to Siberia to catch the duck? I probably will be just missing that thing for the rest of my existence.

I discovered that the duck had fled while Linnea and I explored the art district and the harbor area of Kaohsiung. That same day we also took a ferry to this little island (that is basically just another part of Kaohsiung) to hang out at the beach for a bit. When I say a bit, I mean like 10min. It was cold, and windy, and just overall not pleasant enough to spend more time at.

Actually, the majority of time I was in Taiwan it was kinda yucky weather. Maybe that's why the majority of what we did involved food and lights/fire. My intention in visiting was spending time with Nea and experiencing her world there. When all is said and done that happened and so everything is right in the universe!

All Alone In A Crowded World Means You Always Have Someone

Recently I saw this list on Buzzfeed about the 18 different types of travelers. I myself think I fall under the 'go with the flow' category. (And maybe a bit of the 'always right' traveler, but only when I'm with people who are totally incompetent).

With two days in Taipei this style unfortunately lead to a lot of shoulder shrugs and 'yeah, that sounds fines'. Meaning I did a lot of not exactly what I would have chosen. Most of it was genuinely enjoyable but the one major frustration thing, was that I didn't get to MOCA Taipei. I think I woulda seriously enjoyed that. I guess now I have a reason to go back.

Instead I walked around a lot of markets and a few historical museums and the subway (I probably spent about half my time on the subway or MRT as they call it here). Oh, and let's not forget the hospital in which I received my vaccination for yellow fever. I know I needed to get it, but I probably should have just waited until Kaohsiung (pronounced Cow-shung) where I'd have more time.

Rob Monson, a friend who I met in South Africa in 2012 while he was visiting his brother Pete (one of my favorite people of all times), was a great host! He legit met me at the bus station when I arrived, with no prior warning. I got off the bus, grabbed my bag, turned around and there he was! All ready to scooter us back to his apartment (except for the lack of remembering an extra helmet, just a silly blunder). Instead, I got a cab and he met me at his place.

I man cave if I've ever seen one. I walked in and could instantly tell that three guys lived there. Actually I walked in and first thing I noticed was a Brewer doormat, Wisconsin Badger flag, American flag, and his roommate wearing a Packer sweatshirt. Needless to say he was from Milwaukee. Actually went to the same high school (Nicolet) and University (UW-Madison) as my mom, aunts, uncle, and cousins. Coincidence? Yeah, definitely.

It's weird staying with people you don't know all to well. Like, I enjoy it but it's alway a bit uncomfortable. Three days was a good amount of couch crashing and I left just before the excuses for not taking a shower would have had to turn to the truth, I was just terrified (and a little grossed out) by the bathroom in general.

Let me just make it clear, I really had a good time and if it sounds like I am talking smack, I am not!! I 100% enjoy all the quirks and mishaps of these situations. Reflecting on how something was in reality doesn't necessarily capture the moment that it existed in. Because that moment is a unique experience I take it as such, at face value and always find a way to appreciate it.

As someone who is really just in it for the ride, I love all of the wrong steps, errors, and malfunctions as much as the smooth sailing. They all add up to create the really great stories.

Speaking of wrong steps. That hospital visit contained quite a few of those. Luckily, none of them were even close to traumatic, like they easily could be in a hospital, in a foreign country of which I speak none of the language.

For the next week I will be in the lovely presence of one of the most fantastic humans I know. Miss Linnea Johnson will be hosting me. I am sure to eat a ton, talk about important things, and adventure with an extremely well versed guide.

As my soloventure (as I am calling it) actually begins, it is time for me to buckle down and really get into some of the self-realization shit that people tend to go on these trips for. Or perhaps as my true nature seems to be, I'll just enjoy the show and criticize it after the fact without actually evaluating anything about my life and existence.

Was that a Palace or Temple? The Tough Questions in Life

And all of a sudden, there was a monkey sitting on my head. Needless to say I freaked out for a second. Just enough time for him to freak out as well and jump off of me. But for that instance, we were seriously broing out. I don't think I've ever had a closer companion in this crazy world than those few seconds with that wild animal.

But really, the monkey temple here in Ubud was excellent. We watched so many monkeys and as my mama would put it, 'we made so many friends!'

We've been in Ubud five days now after first traveling all the way across the island from Kuta to Lovina and then from the north to the east to Amed. We saw another smorgasbord of temples and palaces in between (not yet sure what the difference between a temple and a palace is here in Bali. The jury is still out on that one.)

There was a bat temple, which was kinda creepy (to be honest) and kinda really awesome. There was another one that was on a lake and some more sprinkled around the rest of our journey. At this point I'm so used to seeing them every few buildings that the awe and amazement has worn off.

However, the main thing that we did in both Lovina and Amed, was the snorkeling. In Lovina we had to take a traditional long boat into the middle of the ocean to reach the reef. That was an experience. We had to wake up super early first to go chase some dolphins though. It was a bizarre scene, with our fleet of maybe 20 boats all with 3-5 people in them chasing a (heard? school?) pack of probably 30 dolphins up and down a small area of ocean.

In Amed, however, the snorkeling was literally 15 steps and a few swimming strokes from our beds. After finally settling on that hotel room, mainly because of the proximity to a coral reef, we had a perfect beach evening/next morning. We got to roll out of bed and jump in the ocean to swim with so many beautiful, curious, colorful fish.

After our magical, quite, relaxing beach days we headed to the middle of the island to relax amongst the rice paddy's in Ubud.

Now for those of you who know New Mexico, people say Ubud is like Taos. It looks nothing like this small northern New Mexican spiritual haven, but the idea is similar. A bunch of white, foreign visitors, on spiritual quests have taken over and created a chill, artsy, foodie town that I really dig (unlike my feelings towards Taos).

My favorite place in Ubud has to be Kafe. It's a restaurant (as the name would hint) that serves raw food, veggie, vegan and also just an array of natural, health conscious stuff. When I ate there, I could just feel my body jump for joy at being cleansed (to sound totally esoteric woo-woo).

Besides eating our hearts out we've been getting spa treatments everyday while we've been here. This is a new occurrence for me and I am slowly getting into it. I have a really hard time relaxing when strangers are touching me, so it's taking me some effort to really appreciate how awesome being able to get 8 massages for the price of one is (although we have not yet gotten that many, nor do I think we will). I did get to take a bubble bath in our room here and that is the kind of thing that takes no effort to relax me. The room is our nicest to date! It is situated in the middle of a rice paddy just outside of town and is just altogether really lovely.

The other main activity we've gotten up to, has been shopping. We are taking advantage of the 100% genuine fake policies here in Bali (and the prices that equates to) and buying souvenirs, gifts, and a random assortment of other things.

There was one museum visit (mostly to satisfy my weekly need for art). I'm pretty sure no one else really wanted to go, but they all suffered through my love of cold marble rooms with square colorful things on the walls.

We also went and saw this dance/play one night at the palace. My favorite character was this old lady who blessed everyone. I'm pretty sure she wasn't actually part of the act, but she took it upon herself to bless the dancers and nobody stopped her. She was such a G. She walked in when everyone else on stage was going crazy with this demon curse thing and was all "y'all might be having an issue but you still need to be blessed." She then just walks around throwing water on everyone who continues to ignore her and pretend they are exorcising the evil out of themselves with wooden knives (or stabbing themselves in the chest while screaming in Balinese)

The next night in a turn of events, we ended up playing pool with our cabby, at a bar called the melting pot, which he called 'melting spot' that had signed flags from all over the world lining the walls. This was in the process of finding somewhere to watch the Super Bowl, because when traveling with my brother that becomes a thing. A thing that I have to wake up at 6:30am tomorrow to do...

On that note, goodnight!

Jump!

Jump!
Into the wind,
Or water.
Waves rushing over sand
And over legs.
Bodies entwined.
Under blankets,
Of golden grains.
Weathered.
Slowly.
Through hundreds of years,
Through time.
Racing faster,
As millennia edge forward
But rocks still erode.
Slowly.

Jump!
Out of planes
Or off bridges.
Adrenaline racing,
Eyes facing
The sun.
Or your eyes,
Or the earth.
Someone is there
To break the fall,
To counter gravity.
Pulls.
There is constancy
In this everlasting force.
What goes up
Must come down,
And something always.
Pulls.
When you push,
Or when you.

Jump!

It's Just Like Oregon! No, it's more like Indonesia.

It's been a whirlwind of islands and temples and touring. We've been in Indonesia for about a week, both in Bali and in Java. The tourist-being part of our trip has come into full force in this last week. Hopefully it will subside a bit now that we've pretty much seen all the 'main attractions' on both islands.

Our first three days in Indonesia we spent in Bali, about 20 minutes from the major city of Denpasar in a small suburb on the beach called Legian.

Those three days we spent at the beach (which was an absolutely disgusting experience for me), going on a temple tour, and doing some shopping.

The beach was so gross the first day we went to it. I have never experienced that much trash in one place (and I lived in India). It was as if someone put a beach smack dab in the middle of Amritsar. Yuk!

The next day at the temples was very lovely, however. These temples are super beautiful; thatched roofs on carved stone on rocky cliffs, overlooking breathtaking, breaking white water waves. We got to see a fire dance performance in the last temple we visited. It was in this small stadium that was made of stone bleachers. It was kind of a mix between the Parthenon in Greece and a high school baseball diamond.
We sat there in bleachers peppered by purple sarongs, with people from all over the world, and watched the Ramayana as about thirty shirtless men chanted (Chaka Chaka) around the dancers performance.

The last day in Bali was one of my favorite to date (not only because I got new shoes, a shirt, and a bag) but also because it was just so chill. My mom and I left my bro (who was sick) and dad at this mall we went to, (that sucked) to find a glasses place. We pretty much just walked around a market and sat on the beach and chatted. I also got to whip out my expert India bargaining skills.

The next day we had to wake up at an ungodly hour to fly to Java. It was a short flight, to the most populated Indonesian island. We checked into our hotel and my bro and I passed out for a few hours before dinner, while our parents walked to the sultans palace. That night we walked around the night market on the Main Street in Yogyakarta or Jogja as the locals call it.

During our time in Java we came up with this joke. Since my dad has a really funny habit of comparing new places to places he's already visited (one of the main ones being Oregon), any time he would compare something, someone would butt in with 'no actually it's like Oregon'. For example, 'oh hey this temple is kinda like the ones in Burma'. 'Actually papa, I think it is more like Oregon'. Anyways, you get the point...

So our second day, we did a tour of local temples in Jogja, the main one being Prambanan and then two other little ones plus some old palace ruins. These were up on a hill and overlooked the whole city. It was quite beautiful. We also drove up to the volcano base. This is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. It erupted in Nov. of 2011 and killed like 4,000 people.

On our way back from the volcano we stopped at a coffee roasters (cuz when in Java!) this was a special one where they process their coffee beans by feeding them to little weasel type animals called Civet Cats (who are related to raccoons). These guys can't digest the beans so they ferment in the belly and they poop them out whole. The factory than dries them and peels them and processes them into ready to go coffee. It's like really rare or something (but between you and me it was not much different than regular coffee).

The next day it was time to move hotels for the 58,000th time. After our visit to the water and sultans palaces (like real, legit, Arabian nights sultan), we moved to a town outside of Borobudur so we could get to the temple easily the next morning. On the way we stopped at two more small Buddhist temples. At this point I was just about templed out and we had not even seen the main attraction yet.

By the next morning I was becoming a pro at getting up at the butt-crack of dawn. We wanted to get to Borobudur before the crowds swarmed it. We were relatively successful. Got there at 6am and took a really excellent tour of the building, which is the largest (en mass) singular Buddhist monument in the world. It has 10 levels, 5 of which are intricately carved. After our tour we took our own romp around, circling each level once, clockwise. At this point we thought we would only spend like 4 hours in the grounds and instead took a train and took some naps and ate some ice cream until it was 8 hours later. That night we failed, yet again, at finding an acceptable restaurant for vegetarians and ended up eating at the hotel.

Our last day in Java we headed back to Jogja for a day of massages and yummy, proper vegetarian dinners. It was a chill day that was very needed post 'tour de temple: legend of the million stairs'.

We're back in Bali now and just did a recap of my mom and my shopping day. We were trying to recreate it because it was so nice, but it just doesn't work when the boys tag along, or maybe it's just the more people you add the less chill it gets.

We did end up passing the place I bought my purse on the first shopping day. My mom got a new purse this time (after I tantrumed over her getting the same one as me, she got a slightly better one, which is fine). We also passed the lady who now owns my old shoes and the store where my current sandals were purchased.

After I had bought them, we were walking down the street and this lady in a shop stopped me and asked if my old ones were broken (since I immediately put the new ones on as the other's sole was literally hanging by a thread). I said yeah, and showed her. The response? 'No problem, I fix'. She preceded to put them on, right then and there. Let's keep in mind I have tiny feet (I even bought these sandals in the kids section), but they fit her perfectly! When we walked by her store the second time she was sitting there wearing them. It made me really happy that I could pay it forward like that!

Retracing our steps eventually led to the glasses shop where my mom picked up her glasses (that are super stylish). Now we are resting before we head out to dinner (and I am obviously taking advantage of the internet to blog).

7 Hours In Perth: A Story Of The Unnecessary, Yet Worthwhile Layover

I woke up this morning to a dark room. Dusk was just beginning to peek through the window but the light wouldn't actually come out until I was well away from our dungeon-esque hostel in Glebe. The rest of my family slept soundly still because I get to have a lovely solo adventure in Perth instead of flying straight to Bali (where I'll meet them) later in the day.

I got my things together, sleep-walked down the stairs and was greeted by a very nice Chinese cabby. He was such a dude. Got me to the airport quick and enjoyably. I checked my bags all the way through to Bali at the domestic terminal and uneventfully descended to my gate.

The flight was, well, a four hour flight. In other words, no biggy. Luckily pretty much right as I exited the airport an airport-city center shuttle pulled up. For $15 I got taken right to the cultural center of Perth. I than aimlessly strolled around for a while. Saw a garden, too many churches (at least 5 in a 6 block radius, in the center of town), and eventually got to the museums. The art museum was closed due to the installation of a new show but I got to spend a few hours at the Western Australia Museum (their equivalent to a natural history museum).

I've decided I don't much like Perth. Like, I wouldn't mind living there but it's a shit place to visit. From the very little time I spent there (which obviously makes me an expert) I've surmised that the general attitude of the city of Perth is 'we live here, now leave us alone'. The people are not rude or anything, the cities attitude is just generally not much for the whole 'tourist' thing. Yet, they have great free internet/wifi access and pretty cool urban garden/social justice-y types of things.

I was in fact stopped on the street by a woman, about my age, who was convinced I was Australian until I politely informed her she was mistaken. She was campaigning for Amnesty International to raise money to send people into schools all around AUS to educate kids about domestic violence issues. It sounded pretty worthwhile and I would totally have been down to help out (as I told her) if only I was actually Australian. I did take some pride in the fact that she insisted she would never have thought I was from the States (even though I'm pretty sure my accent could not be from anywhere else, except maybe Canada...)

I ended up seeing a good deal of the downtown area of Perth, between walking all up and down the streets and taking the airport shuttle around town. The university area was quite chill but seemed a bit small. There was a pretty cool art scene around the museum area that made me want to do art and look at it less (again, a side effect of being a living city).

I had to leave to the airport at 3:20 (even though my flight wasn't until 7:25) because that was when the shuttle left and there wouldn't be another one until 6:20, which was too late. It was all smooth and easy sailing. I ended up getting a new book in the airport that I've wanted to read for ages, 'the fault in our stars.' We'll see how it goes. I'm about halfway through.

The one awesome thing about the flight, that in all my years of traveling I have never experienced, was a truly delicious airplane meal. It was a Thai pumpkin red curry and rice with this weirdly great chocolate mousse. Yum! It was probably made better since all I had eaten the whole day was some ice cream...

By the time I made it to Bali it was midnight, but actually 4am Sydney time. This meant that I had officially been awake for 24 hours and a trip that took my family 8 hours total took me a full day (but they didn't get to experience a whole new city, so who really won?).

Now we get to go off and see all of what Bali has to offer! And I can check off #4 on my countries visited so far and #37 on countries in total. Pretty, fricken cool!