Some Random Encounters Regarding Money:
1. An ATM machine for the Bank of Ceylon dispensed currency without requesting my PIN number. That is the first time I ever got money without being asked for a PIN. That is a rather disturbing situation if someone takes your ATM card.
2. I am pretty sure that the ATM in Kandy shortchanged me. Instead of 10 bills, I received 9. Same thing happened to another traveler.
3. On leaving Sri Lanka, at a currency exchange counter in the airport, the clerk refused to buy back my currency because I was unable to produce a receipt showing that I had purchased it.
4. In Laos, buy only the smallest amount of currency that you might need. Except for a very limited amount, you cannot sell it back. Anywhere.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
A “Full Day” in Jordan Begins at 4:30 AM
The rule was that we were not allowed to leave the hotel before 4:30 AM. Of course, that means that if we have any hope of accomplishing what we needed to do for the day, we should be out the door at 4:30 AM. We had until 10:00 PM to scavenge for the “day”. First stop: Petra.
We really liked our taxi driver from the day before, so we arranged for him to be our man to drive us all the way to the south of the country to do the scavenges farthest away, figuring that less was at risk with other taxi drivers closer to Amman. The Petra scavenge required that we must take the King’s Highway either to or from Petra. Strategically, it made more sense to get to Petra quickly on the alternate Desert Highway, which would allow us to arrive at Petra when it opened. As the day wore on, we could move over to the slower King’s Highway. Christine had already been to Petra twice. I had never been. It was as much of a thrill as I had hoped it would be. It helped that we were there before the crowds and in the pleasant morning air, before the sun was fully above. Our taxi driver had coached us extremely well as to what to do when we got into the gate. The scavenge required riding a horse or a horse-drawn buggy through the Siq down to the Treasury. He advised that we hire the buggy to take us all the way to the end and to wait for us to finish our sightseeing so that he could return us to the front gate. Riding in our silly surrey, jostled on the rocky road, we passed the people on foot who were experiencing this ancient site in a more serene (and sane) way. The Siq is a narrow canyon of red rocks, reminding me of Bryce Canyon’s Wall Street. After gentle twists and turns, the Treasury dramatically appeared before us. It is breathtaking. The sun played on the reddish yellow rocks and it was gorgeous. The surrey trundled down to the end of the Street of Facades where the wide road ended. At that point, again well-advised by our taxi driver, we hired donkeys to carry us up a very steep hill with slippery rock steps, to the Monastery. The round-trip deal we cut with the driver, we later learned, was key. Some of our fellow travelers were abandoned by their donkey guides, left to descend the tricky canyon by themselves. The ride up was one of the more magnificent experiences I have had. We had the canyon to ourselves and our Bedouin donkey guide. As the donkeys plodded up the worn stones and wound us up into the mountains, alongside deep chasms, we marveled at the beauty and serenity of the place. Later that evening, we confessed to each other the dark thoughts that crossed our minds. Mine was that if I fell off the side, I hoped I would be conscious enough so that I could instruct Christine how to use my cell phone and where my MedJet Assist card is so that she could get me helicoptered out of the canyon. It didn’t help that each of our donkeys stumbled a few times. And, later we learned that the donkey that one of our fellow travelers was riding fell down and she fell off. Fortunately, the fall was at the end of the ride, and on a flat spot near the bottom. Good to know after we were finished. The ride down required mind control into an altered state. But, enough of that. The monastery is kind of like the façade of the Treasury below (the Temple of Doom from Indiana Jones). The difference is that it is way, way, way up on the mountain. After returning to the bottom of donkey-ride challenge, we rejoined the main road where we met up with the buggy driver who had waited for our one hour donkey adventure. A footnote about the meeting place. There are ruins of a structure perched on the hill at the junction of these two paths. Flying above the tallest pillar of the structure is a pennant for Brown University. What?!? I had to rub my eyes to see if they were tricking me. The Bruin’s flag is flying in the middle of nowhere in Jordan? I must remember to find out if there is an archeological project underway in Petra.
Next was Wadi Rum, a beautiful and exotic nature preserve. The Seven Pillars of Wisdom is a rock formation rising abruptly out of the ground, which we approached by walking into the desert part way to it. We did not pay one of the 50 or so 4x4 drivers lined up waiting for a customer, of which there were none.
After we finished some additional silly scavenges in the Wadi Rum park, we headed north to Amman, picking up the King’s Highway. Our plan was to get back to Amman and do more scavenges until the 10:00 PM deadline. We did eleven more when we got back into Amman. The highlight of them all was being at the Temple to Hercules at sunset. The Temple ruins are large pillars atop the Citadel Hill, which is an expansive field of ruins peppered with grassy spots. Amman city rings around the hill. As the sun set, Amman seemed to spread out before us in all directions. The buildings appear as tight white boxes pressed together. Lights started to twinkle as the sky became inkier and the sun’s golden glow compressed down to the earth. All at once, the muezzins’ nasal, singsong calls to prayer filled the sky from all directions. What a beautiful, spiritual end to a very full day.
Next stop: Vienna
We really liked our taxi driver from the day before, so we arranged for him to be our man to drive us all the way to the south of the country to do the scavenges farthest away, figuring that less was at risk with other taxi drivers closer to Amman. The Petra scavenge required that we must take the King’s Highway either to or from Petra. Strategically, it made more sense to get to Petra quickly on the alternate Desert Highway, which would allow us to arrive at Petra when it opened. As the day wore on, we could move over to the slower King’s Highway. Christine had already been to Petra twice. I had never been. It was as much of a thrill as I had hoped it would be. It helped that we were there before the crowds and in the pleasant morning air, before the sun was fully above. Our taxi driver had coached us extremely well as to what to do when we got into the gate. The scavenge required riding a horse or a horse-drawn buggy through the Siq down to the Treasury. He advised that we hire the buggy to take us all the way to the end and to wait for us to finish our sightseeing so that he could return us to the front gate. Riding in our silly surrey, jostled on the rocky road, we passed the people on foot who were experiencing this ancient site in a more serene (and sane) way. The Siq is a narrow canyon of red rocks, reminding me of Bryce Canyon’s Wall Street. After gentle twists and turns, the Treasury dramatically appeared before us. It is breathtaking. The sun played on the reddish yellow rocks and it was gorgeous. The surrey trundled down to the end of the Street of Facades where the wide road ended. At that point, again well-advised by our taxi driver, we hired donkeys to carry us up a very steep hill with slippery rock steps, to the Monastery. The round-trip deal we cut with the driver, we later learned, was key. Some of our fellow travelers were abandoned by their donkey guides, left to descend the tricky canyon by themselves. The ride up was one of the more magnificent experiences I have had. We had the canyon to ourselves and our Bedouin donkey guide. As the donkeys plodded up the worn stones and wound us up into the mountains, alongside deep chasms, we marveled at the beauty and serenity of the place. Later that evening, we confessed to each other the dark thoughts that crossed our minds. Mine was that if I fell off the side, I hoped I would be conscious enough so that I could instruct Christine how to use my cell phone and where my MedJet Assist card is so that she could get me helicoptered out of the canyon. It didn’t help that each of our donkeys stumbled a few times. And, later we learned that the donkey that one of our fellow travelers was riding fell down and she fell off. Fortunately, the fall was at the end of the ride, and on a flat spot near the bottom. Good to know after we were finished. The ride down required mind control into an altered state. But, enough of that. The monastery is kind of like the façade of the Treasury below (the Temple of Doom from Indiana Jones). The difference is that it is way, way, way up on the mountain. After returning to the bottom of donkey-ride challenge, we rejoined the main road where we met up with the buggy driver who had waited for our one hour donkey adventure. A footnote about the meeting place. There are ruins of a structure perched on the hill at the junction of these two paths. Flying above the tallest pillar of the structure is a pennant for Brown University. What?!? I had to rub my eyes to see if they were tricking me. The Bruin’s flag is flying in the middle of nowhere in Jordan? I must remember to find out if there is an archeological project underway in Petra.
Next was Wadi Rum, a beautiful and exotic nature preserve. The Seven Pillars of Wisdom is a rock formation rising abruptly out of the ground, which we approached by walking into the desert part way to it. We did not pay one of the 50 or so 4x4 drivers lined up waiting for a customer, of which there were none.
After we finished some additional silly scavenges in the Wadi Rum park, we headed north to Amman, picking up the King’s Highway. Our plan was to get back to Amman and do more scavenges until the 10:00 PM deadline. We did eleven more when we got back into Amman. The highlight of them all was being at the Temple to Hercules at sunset. The Temple ruins are large pillars atop the Citadel Hill, which is an expansive field of ruins peppered with grassy spots. Amman city rings around the hill. As the sun set, Amman seemed to spread out before us in all directions. The buildings appear as tight white boxes pressed together. Lights started to twinkle as the sky became inkier and the sun’s golden glow compressed down to the earth. All at once, the muezzins’ nasal, singsong calls to prayer filled the sky from all directions. What a beautiful, spiritual end to a very full day.
Next stop: Vienna
Jamming Jordan into One Day and a Half: The Half Day Goes First
The first order of business is to get a decent guidebook in English. We went right out of the hotel and paused before getting into just any old taxi. We wanted to make sure that the driver spoke English well. That moment of caution paid off enormously. We passed over a cabbie who smiled a lot but couldn’t converse with us. The next cabbie was a charm. Moussa spoke excellent English and took us to an English bookstore. We bought a Lonely Planet guide to the Middle East. Of the $45 investment in the book, only 65 pages were relevant to Jordan. Precious pages, though, because we are crippled if we don’t have a good guidebook to help figure out what the scavenges mean, and then to map them out to make a plan.
As we sat in Moussa’s cab and strategized, Moussa whisked us right to Jerash, to see the Roman ruins. We had three things to do (walk the Oval Plaza and the Triumphant Arch, and pay respects at the Temple of Artemis). Unfortunately, in our haste to get going, we failed to realize that one of the scavenges was supposed to be done at Jerash – to play out a scene at the Roman Amphitheater by making a video. Oh well. Haste makes waste. No time to go back.
Next was Madaba, a town south of Amman, to see a 19th century world map made of mosaics on the floor of a Greek Orthodox church. We had a mandatory snack at the coffee shop Ayola across the street from the church. It was a delicious chicken sandwich – but then again, things are more delicious when you are starving. To finish the last piece of that scavenge, we had to go to Mount Nebo and take in the view at the top. Our taxi driver raced us up to the gate just in time before they closed for the evening.
We rode down to the Dead Sea to float while reading a newspaper. After a detour to the hotel to get bathing suits, we arrived just as the sun was setting. Not surprisingly, the experience was much like it is on the Israeli side. You take a newspaper and pose for a picture while floating in the salty water. We paid to enter a beach club. We chose an inexpensive one used by locals, rather than trying to navigate the more expensive hotels loaded with amenities we were not going to use. All we needed was a changing area, access to the sea, and a fresh water shower. It was just about dusk. The air was a balmy high 70s – a perfect soft breeze wafted as the sun set and a peaceful feeling settled. We changed into our bathing suits and walked down the soft sand to the shoreline. Along the way, we passed small groups of people sitting in plastic beach chairs, some picnicking, one or two gathered around a small fire. Almost all of the women were fully dressed, with heads covered. A few teenagers wore western bathing suits. As the sky darkened, we could see the lights begin twinkling on the Israeli side of the Dead Sea. For the newspaper prop required for the float, we removed from our travelling “evidence” book the Hong Kong Sunday paper we had collected during the first leg of our trip.
We did two more things – both mandatory food scavenges -- before returning to the hotel for the 10:30 curfew. We found and ate mansaf, a meat dish in a delicious soupy yogurt sauce, with rice. The absolute highlight was kunafa – a sweet dessert served hot. It is a base of melted cheese with a hard caramel topping. Our taxi driver took us to Habibah, which he said is the best place to eat kunafa. It was 9:30 at night and the store was packed with male customers, buying up kunafa. It is served out of round pans that look like pizza pans. The store is a beautiful chandeliered upscale place, with abundances of decorative pastries stacked in intricate designs. But, the main event is the kunafa. All the attention and bustle focused on the kunafa counter. It was like an elegant pizza-by-the-slice emporium. We took our servings outside and became instant kunafa lovers.
As we sat in Moussa’s cab and strategized, Moussa whisked us right to Jerash, to see the Roman ruins. We had three things to do (walk the Oval Plaza and the Triumphant Arch, and pay respects at the Temple of Artemis). Unfortunately, in our haste to get going, we failed to realize that one of the scavenges was supposed to be done at Jerash – to play out a scene at the Roman Amphitheater by making a video. Oh well. Haste makes waste. No time to go back.
Next was Madaba, a town south of Amman, to see a 19th century world map made of mosaics on the floor of a Greek Orthodox church. We had a mandatory snack at the coffee shop Ayola across the street from the church. It was a delicious chicken sandwich – but then again, things are more delicious when you are starving. To finish the last piece of that scavenge, we had to go to Mount Nebo and take in the view at the top. Our taxi driver raced us up to the gate just in time before they closed for the evening.
We rode down to the Dead Sea to float while reading a newspaper. After a detour to the hotel to get bathing suits, we arrived just as the sun was setting. Not surprisingly, the experience was much like it is on the Israeli side. You take a newspaper and pose for a picture while floating in the salty water. We paid to enter a beach club. We chose an inexpensive one used by locals, rather than trying to navigate the more expensive hotels loaded with amenities we were not going to use. All we needed was a changing area, access to the sea, and a fresh water shower. It was just about dusk. The air was a balmy high 70s – a perfect soft breeze wafted as the sun set and a peaceful feeling settled. We changed into our bathing suits and walked down the soft sand to the shoreline. Along the way, we passed small groups of people sitting in plastic beach chairs, some picnicking, one or two gathered around a small fire. Almost all of the women were fully dressed, with heads covered. A few teenagers wore western bathing suits. As the sky darkened, we could see the lights begin twinkling on the Israeli side of the Dead Sea. For the newspaper prop required for the float, we removed from our travelling “evidence” book the Hong Kong Sunday paper we had collected during the first leg of our trip.
We did two more things – both mandatory food scavenges -- before returning to the hotel for the 10:30 curfew. We found and ate mansaf, a meat dish in a delicious soupy yogurt sauce, with rice. The absolute highlight was kunafa – a sweet dessert served hot. It is a base of melted cheese with a hard caramel topping. Our taxi driver took us to Habibah, which he said is the best place to eat kunafa. It was 9:30 at night and the store was packed with male customers, buying up kunafa. It is served out of round pans that look like pizza pans. The store is a beautiful chandeliered upscale place, with abundances of decorative pastries stacked in intricate designs. But, the main event is the kunafa. All the attention and bustle focused on the kunafa counter. It was like an elegant pizza-by-the-slice emporium. We took our servings outside and became instant kunafa lovers.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Warm and Fuzzies in Jordan
To enter the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Amman, Jordan, we had to pass our luggage and handbags through the x-ray screening, walk through a metal detector and then submit to a body search by female security guard holding a wand. Every time we come into the hotel, we undergo these procedures. Even if you have to run back in for a sec because you forgot something. These are vestiges of a terrorist's vicious bombing a Jordanian wedding party a few years ago that killed many and seriously damaged the hotel. While driving on the roads, our taxi drivers are frequently stopped by police to have their credentials checked. As one of our scavenges, we had to approach but not try to cross the Allenby/King Hussein Bridge from Jordan to the West Bank. Taking a photo was out of the question. The access was patrolled. We asked a taxi driver if he had ever been to Israel. He said "No. I would love to go, but I refuse to sign a paper where I ask the Israeli government for permission to visit as a tourist, when it is my own country".
But overall, the politics and the strife in the Middle East were a mere footnote to our wonderful experience visiting Jordan.
The country is beautiful and everyone I encountered was friendly, smiley, and helpful. It is a definite virtual hug when someone asks where you are from, you reply "USA" and they respond with a warm grin an emphatic thumbs-up. We even got this response many times from the highway police who stopped our taxis and leaned into the driver's window to see who is in the back seat.
I like this country.
But overall, the politics and the strife in the Middle East were a mere footnote to our wonderful experience visiting Jordan.
The country is beautiful and everyone I encountered was friendly, smiley, and helpful. It is a definite virtual hug when someone asks where you are from, you reply "USA" and they respond with a warm grin an emphatic thumbs-up. We even got this response many times from the highway police who stopped our taxis and leaned into the driver's window to see who is in the back seat.
I like this country.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Long Haul to Galle – Tsunami Territory
For the last day in Sri Lanka, we have until 4 PM, when this leg ends. Having done most of the little scavenges around the city of Colombo, we did not have enough remaining to do to fill the time if we stayed in Colombo.
The sticky thing is – the other scavenges are far out of town, many hours away. There is a hard stop at 4 PM and we cannot be late. The train schedules are iffy and the roads are crowded. We decided to go to Galle, a roughly 3 and a half hour trip away. Galle is pronounced like “gawl”. Since we are required to take a train one way and since the trains are less reliable than the roads, we decided to train down and get a taxi back. The earliest train we could take is 6:50 AM. We left the hotel at 6:10 and walked to the station. Unlike our previous train rides, this train does not offer first class, which means that you cannot buy tickets in advance. Gauging from the crush of humanity at the train station at 6AM two days ago, we were concerned about being able to push through in time to buy a ticket and get on the train. Mysteriously, the station was all but empty and we breezed through with plenty of time to spare.
We got seats, travelling with the Camels from Dubai again, and the four of us were able to get four seats together. Even though it was second class, it was just fine – padded comfortable seats and not too crowded. We had asked the hotel to pack us breakfast boxes, which we ate on the train in comfort.
The previous day, our second class train ride into Kandy was crowded, standing room only. I stood next to two young women dressed fully in black, with only slits for eyes. One of them even wore black gloves. It was about 95 degrees in the train. They both had beautiful eyes that were made up with cosmetics. The glove-wearer spent much of the train ride chatting on her hot pink cell phone. The other one took an interest in me, and at one point, I got the opportunity to sit down and we chatted. Her English is excellent. She wanted to know where we were going, and offered advice on how much further our trip would be. She tried to be helpful and informative, but was 100% dead wrong. She had her directions and timing mixed up, but we were confident of our navigation, so I just enjoyed the cultural exchange.
The train ride to Galle was interesting and very different than all the other rides we had taken up in the Hill Country. Today was ocean day.
Sri Lanka’s capital city of Colombo is on the Indian Ocean, on the west coast of the country. To travel to Galle, we rode the rails in a southerly direction down the coastline to the bottom of the country. Virtually the whole trip was ocean view. Although we hoped to, we did not get to see the stick fishermen. (Those are the men who hold fishing poles, while standing on stick stilts in the ocean). It was raining; and also we understood that generally, the stick fishermen are further south of Galle.
As we travelled south from Colombo, we got into Tsunami territory. A few times along the way, we saw blue signs posted on the tracks saying “Tsunami Zone. Go to higher ground or inland”. We saw much rubble and suggestions of remaining walls from brick and cement structures that had been demolished by the Tsunami. There was much “rebuilding” of little shacks dotting the coastline. We understood that the Tsunami hit and wiped an entire train off the tracks from the rail line we were riding on. Apparently, it was the worst rail disaster in history. Galle’s new town was severely hit by the Tsunami and many people were killed around the bus station area. But the old fort’s solid walls kept damage to a minimum.
Many people live on the narrow stretch of land between the train tracks and the ocean – often as slender as a football field in length. In other words, many people live steps from the beach. Many of the homes are wooden shacks with roofs made of leaves or corrugated metal. Much of life seems to take place out back of the house, i.e. on the train tracks. We often saw people sitting on the tracks, using them as a bench.
When we arrived in Galle it was teeming, pouring, buckets, big dumps, giant shower of messy, chaotic rain. Not the best of conditions to stroll around the fort area, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The fort was first built in the 1500s by the Portuguese as a military base against the kingdom of Kandy, and was later expanded in the 1600s by the Dutch for shipping, and was the main port in Sri Lanka for more than 200 years, as an important stop for ships travelling between Europe and Asia. Because of our crazy schedule, we had only 55 minutes to visit Galle, before we had to start back on our return trip to Colombo to meet the 4 PM deadline. We found the mandatory sites, photographed them, had a taxi take us back into Colombo and got back with 45 minutes to spare.
Just enough time to squeeze in the scavenge of finding snake charmers. I got a picture of me holding a snake, flanked by snake charmers. The snake started to turn its head back up toward my hand just as the picture was being snapped. I was NOT smiling at that moment.
Next stop: Amman, Jordan.
The sticky thing is – the other scavenges are far out of town, many hours away. There is a hard stop at 4 PM and we cannot be late. The train schedules are iffy and the roads are crowded. We decided to go to Galle, a roughly 3 and a half hour trip away. Galle is pronounced like “gawl”. Since we are required to take a train one way and since the trains are less reliable than the roads, we decided to train down and get a taxi back. The earliest train we could take is 6:50 AM. We left the hotel at 6:10 and walked to the station. Unlike our previous train rides, this train does not offer first class, which means that you cannot buy tickets in advance. Gauging from the crush of humanity at the train station at 6AM two days ago, we were concerned about being able to push through in time to buy a ticket and get on the train. Mysteriously, the station was all but empty and we breezed through with plenty of time to spare.
We got seats, travelling with the Camels from Dubai again, and the four of us were able to get four seats together. Even though it was second class, it was just fine – padded comfortable seats and not too crowded. We had asked the hotel to pack us breakfast boxes, which we ate on the train in comfort.
The previous day, our second class train ride into Kandy was crowded, standing room only. I stood next to two young women dressed fully in black, with only slits for eyes. One of them even wore black gloves. It was about 95 degrees in the train. They both had beautiful eyes that were made up with cosmetics. The glove-wearer spent much of the train ride chatting on her hot pink cell phone. The other one took an interest in me, and at one point, I got the opportunity to sit down and we chatted. Her English is excellent. She wanted to know where we were going, and offered advice on how much further our trip would be. She tried to be helpful and informative, but was 100% dead wrong. She had her directions and timing mixed up, but we were confident of our navigation, so I just enjoyed the cultural exchange.
The train ride to Galle was interesting and very different than all the other rides we had taken up in the Hill Country. Today was ocean day.
Sri Lanka’s capital city of Colombo is on the Indian Ocean, on the west coast of the country. To travel to Galle, we rode the rails in a southerly direction down the coastline to the bottom of the country. Virtually the whole trip was ocean view. Although we hoped to, we did not get to see the stick fishermen. (Those are the men who hold fishing poles, while standing on stick stilts in the ocean). It was raining; and also we understood that generally, the stick fishermen are further south of Galle.
As we travelled south from Colombo, we got into Tsunami territory. A few times along the way, we saw blue signs posted on the tracks saying “Tsunami Zone. Go to higher ground or inland”. We saw much rubble and suggestions of remaining walls from brick and cement structures that had been demolished by the Tsunami. There was much “rebuilding” of little shacks dotting the coastline. We understood that the Tsunami hit and wiped an entire train off the tracks from the rail line we were riding on. Apparently, it was the worst rail disaster in history. Galle’s new town was severely hit by the Tsunami and many people were killed around the bus station area. But the old fort’s solid walls kept damage to a minimum.
Many people live on the narrow stretch of land between the train tracks and the ocean – often as slender as a football field in length. In other words, many people live steps from the beach. Many of the homes are wooden shacks with roofs made of leaves or corrugated metal. Much of life seems to take place out back of the house, i.e. on the train tracks. We often saw people sitting on the tracks, using them as a bench.
When we arrived in Galle it was teeming, pouring, buckets, big dumps, giant shower of messy, chaotic rain. Not the best of conditions to stroll around the fort area, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The fort was first built in the 1500s by the Portuguese as a military base against the kingdom of Kandy, and was later expanded in the 1600s by the Dutch for shipping, and was the main port in Sri Lanka for more than 200 years, as an important stop for ships travelling between Europe and Asia. Because of our crazy schedule, we had only 55 minutes to visit Galle, before we had to start back on our return trip to Colombo to meet the 4 PM deadline. We found the mandatory sites, photographed them, had a taxi take us back into Colombo and got back with 45 minutes to spare.
Just enough time to squeeze in the scavenge of finding snake charmers. I got a picture of me holding a snake, flanked by snake charmers. The snake started to turn its head back up toward my hand just as the picture was being snapped. I was NOT smiling at that moment.
Next stop: Amman, Jordan.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Ambling Around the Ancient Cities
We bought a multi-site pass called the Cultural Triangle Pass. We burned a hole in it (got our money's worth big time). In one day, we visited Anuradhapura, Minhitale, Polonnaruwa, and arrived in Sigiriya by nightfall.
But first -- the train. For many of the sites, we had to travel at least one leg by train. The trains run infrequenly. Logical challenges. We travelled with the Camels team again - Sami and Brian. Great couple and it was very helpful to have four of us on the lookout for things. Great teamwork. Besides, it's fun.
We covered a lot of territory and did an awful lot of walking around. Did I mention it's very hot and sticky and we are in the jungle?
Anuradhapura became a capital city in 380 BC. For me, the highlight was the sacred bodhi tree which is the oldest historically authenticated tree in the world. It has been tended by guardians for over 2000 years.
Polonnaruwa is a large, sprawling complex. When it feels like the temperature is over one hundred degrees, it is pretty hard to get excited about getting baked among temple ruins. Nevertheless, we carried on. We saw a former home of the sacred tooth. (More on that later - We saw the current home of the sacred tooth the following day). A top sight in Polonnaruwa was the gal pota, an inscribed stone tablet like an early book. It is the largest stone inscription ever discovered.
Parts of the ciry's ancient irrigation system are still in use to draw water from the lake and irrigate the rice paddies.
We pressed onward to Sigariya and checked in to a hotel with a perfect view of the giant rock we planned to climb in the morning.
But first -- the train. For many of the sites, we had to travel at least one leg by train. The trains run infrequenly. Logical challenges. We travelled with the Camels team again - Sami and Brian. Great couple and it was very helpful to have four of us on the lookout for things. Great teamwork. Besides, it's fun.
We covered a lot of territory and did an awful lot of walking around. Did I mention it's very hot and sticky and we are in the jungle?
Anuradhapura became a capital city in 380 BC. For me, the highlight was the sacred bodhi tree which is the oldest historically authenticated tree in the world. It has been tended by guardians for over 2000 years.
Polonnaruwa is a large, sprawling complex. When it feels like the temperature is over one hundred degrees, it is pretty hard to get excited about getting baked among temple ruins. Nevertheless, we carried on. We saw a former home of the sacred tooth. (More on that later - We saw the current home of the sacred tooth the following day). A top sight in Polonnaruwa was the gal pota, an inscribed stone tablet like an early book. It is the largest stone inscription ever discovered.
Parts of the ciry's ancient irrigation system are still in use to draw water from the lake and irrigate the rice paddies.
We pressed onward to Sigariya and checked in to a hotel with a perfect view of the giant rock we planned to climb in the morning.
Elephant Dung Notepaper
We visited the government-run Pinnewala Elephant Orphange near Kandy in the Hill Country in the center of the country. We were very pressed for time to catch a train so we only had about 20 minutes to visit. We would have loved to have stayed longer. From the entrance, we climbed a dusty brown rounded hill into the property. Just over the crest, dozens of elephants came into view. They were standing around in small groups, looking like they were at a cocktail party. A mahout, or trainer, motioned us to approach and let us pet and pose with the elephants. The orphanage rescues elephants. Some have been mutilated by having their tusks removed. One elephant is seventy years old and blind. About 90 elephants live there. Since the orphanage was founded, about 49 baby elephants have been born there. We later read in the Lonely Planet guidebook that some people criticize the orphanage for allowing too much human contact and for breeding them.
The orphanage produces paper out of elephant dung, which they fashion into notepaper and stationery for sale in the gift shop. As one might imagine, the paper is thick and fibrous. All those reedy plants in the elephant's diet make for a pulpy paper. We did our bit for Earth Day by buying some luxury dung products.
The orphanage produces paper out of elephant dung, which they fashion into notepaper and stationery for sale in the gift shop. As one might imagine, the paper is thick and fibrous. All those reedy plants in the elephant's diet make for a pulpy paper. We did our bit for Earth Day by buying some luxury dung products.
Super Sri Lankan Morning
At about 7 AM, we were at the entrance to the giant rock in Sigiriya. The rock is an icon of Sri Lanka. Really good move to be there when the gate opened. The day was hardly cool at that point and it only got hotter. It took about one and a half hours to do the round trip to visit the top. Christine was missing a sneaker so she had to do it in flip flops. They were stolen from her when she was required to take them off to use the bathroom at the temple just below the top. After some nail-biting minutes, she recovered her sandals in time to face the trip down. On the climb we saw ancient frescoes painted just below an overhang of rock. We entered through the giant paws of a lion (made of stone) to approach the top of the rock.
It was exhilarating to stand on top of the rock and take in the view for miles.
We were at the bottom in one and a half hours and took a tuk tuk to the hotel. We grabbed up the parcels of things we had brought for the school children and set off for an elementary school.
Our tuk tuk driver drove for about ten minutes further into the jungle. He brought us to a tiny school with two teachers and two rooms. The teachers welcomed us in and as we gave our gifts to the school, the teachers gathered all the children to line up for us and say hello in English. They were all in uniform. Crisp white. These are children who live in homes with no floor, no running water, rare electricity, and barely a roof over their head. They were all bright eyes, beautiful, polite, and well behaved. They sang a sweet little song about the instruments in the orchestra, going through the hand motions and sounds of each one. I wonder how many of those children will ever get to hear a real violin.
That was an amazing and touching experience.
It was only 9:30 and we had already climbed a mountain and (we hope) made a little difference in the lives of some school children.
It was exhilarating to stand on top of the rock and take in the view for miles.
We were at the bottom in one and a half hours and took a tuk tuk to the hotel. We grabbed up the parcels of things we had brought for the school children and set off for an elementary school.
Our tuk tuk driver drove for about ten minutes further into the jungle. He brought us to a tiny school with two teachers and two rooms. The teachers welcomed us in and as we gave our gifts to the school, the teachers gathered all the children to line up for us and say hello in English. They were all in uniform. Crisp white. These are children who live in homes with no floor, no running water, rare electricity, and barely a roof over their head. They were all bright eyes, beautiful, polite, and well behaved. They sang a sweet little song about the instruments in the orchestra, going through the hand motions and sounds of each one. I wonder how many of those children will ever get to hear a real violin.
That was an amazing and touching experience.
It was only 9:30 and we had already climbed a mountain and (we hope) made a little difference in the lives of some school children.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Shoes
Shoes are important. Yesterday, we bolted out of our hotel at 5 AM to catch a 5:45 AM train to Anuradhapura. We had both brought sneakers and flip-flops -- or so we thought. The three day journey involves climbing a lot of stairs and a giant rock; as well as visiting many archeological sites with temples where you need to remove your shoes to visit.
Although we needed those two pairs, at one point yesterday, Christine was down to only one shoe. Somehow she either lost or had never packed one of her sneakers.
She was managing just fine with her sandals until she had to use the ladies room at a temple. They make you remove your shoes. While she was in the ladies room, her sandals were stolen.
Fortunately, the person who took them was blatant enough to have put them on and was walking in them A man who learned of our predicament noticed the shoes on that woman's feet and got them back for Christine.
Although we needed those two pairs, at one point yesterday, Christine was down to only one shoe. Somehow she either lost or had never packed one of her sneakers.
She was managing just fine with her sandals until she had to use the ladies room at a temple. They make you remove your shoes. While she was in the ladies room, her sandals were stolen.
Fortunately, the person who took them was blatant enough to have put them on and was walking in them A man who learned of our predicament noticed the shoes on that woman's feet and got them back for Christine.
Complicated Calculations in Colombo (Sri Lanka)
This leg of the trip is four nights in Sri Lanka. Although we have hotel rooms in the Hilton for four nights, to do this leg we must get out of Colombo and into the countryside. Sri Lanka is about the size of Britain and is longer than it is wide. There are several choices in each direction. We are traveling with the Camels from Dubai. It took more than a half day to come up with a workable plan. Silly-sounding, but it is hard to plan. First, it took about one hour to get a guidebook in English. Then, we had to figure how to fit the destinations together when they are in different directions and several of them may be reached only by train in one direction. We headed off to the train station to get the schedules. Ha. India redux. There is no published or posted timetable that we could find that pulled all the schedules together - even for a single destination. The Intercity ticket office (which we liked a lot because it is air conditioned) sells tickets for trains from Colombo to Anuradhapura.
However, there is at least one more train a day that is accessible via ticket purchased from a different office in the same station. And, there is much, shall we say, flexibility, about the arrival time. The man selling us tickets didn't provide a specific target arrival time. For the destination of our first leg, he said four or four and a half hours. And, we read later in the guidebook that train delays are expressed in terms of "quarter day late", "half day late", etc.
We have a hard stop that we must report back to the Colombo Hilton by 4PM on Friday. We cannot be on the road between 10PM and 5AM. So, to link the destinations together into a plan, we have a fuzzy idea of where we can spend the first night. It's kind of like the old cowboy movies where the posse leader aims to try to make it to a certain destination by nightfall.
However, there is at least one more train a day that is accessible via ticket purchased from a different office in the same station. And, there is much, shall we say, flexibility, about the arrival time. The man selling us tickets didn't provide a specific target arrival time. For the destination of our first leg, he said four or four and a half hours. And, we read later in the guidebook that train delays are expressed in terms of "quarter day late", "half day late", etc.
We have a hard stop that we must report back to the Colombo Hilton by 4PM on Friday. We cannot be on the road between 10PM and 5AM. So, to link the destinations together into a plan, we have a fuzzy idea of where we can spend the first night. It's kind of like the old cowboy movies where the posse leader aims to try to make it to a certain destination by nightfall.
Guess Who is Coming to Dinner?
One of the scavenges is to get yourself invited into a family's home for dinner. We did it! In the late afternoon just before sunset, we stalked our prey of who to go after to invite ourselves to dinner.
We were on the old city section called Pettah, where the busy market bazaars were closing down. We were in thr area, buying school supplies and soccer balls to give to a school. Having gotten the notebooks and pens, we searched for a place to find the soccer balls. We found what we needed in a store, rather than a stall. A nice young man named Farzath waited on us in English and negotiated with us for a discount for a bunch of balls. On our way out, we told him about the Scavenger Hunt and asked if he could also help us by letting us go home with him for dinner. Absolutely! Love to!
It was around 6:30 and we were invited for 9/9:30. We dashed out to have a cocktail at the members only Colombo Cricket Club. This involved not only talking our way in (fast talk about memberships in other clubs, reciprocal, blather, blather, etc.). We got past the door. We entered the bar looking fairly disgusting. We were sweaty, stinky, and carrying a large plastic bag filled with 6 soccer balls, and a heavy tote bag filled with school supplies. Next trick was to actually get served a drink. When the waiter told us sorry, he couldn't serve us, we sidled up to a member at the bar to ask if he would host us (explaining the Scavenger Hunt of course, and paying our own way of course). The club walls are dark paneled, covered with photos of cricket and rugby teams. The names and pictures of the players morphed over time from very white and English in the past to very dark and Sri Lankan in the present. The bar area overlooks the playing field. Players were on the field, practicing under the lights.
We made a quick stop at the hotel to clean up and buy a gift and candy for our hosts. Farzath lives in a third floor apartment on top of a police station in the crowded old area of Pettah. His family is lovely! He and his wife have two little boys, about 4 years old and 6 months. They live with Farzath's parents and his brother and sister. They are Muslim and Christian. While we were visiting, a parade of friends and neighbors carried in their babies to show us. We looked at Farzath and his wife's wedding photo album and at baby pictures.
Dinner was String Hopper Koffu, a dish that resembles fried rice, chicken, lamb and delicious fresh roti made by Farzath's mother.
After dinner, Farzath's 17 year old sister hennaed Christine's finger. She wanted to do more, and to do mine, but it was getting late and we had an early morning the next day. The young girl is an accomplished henna artist. Her work was featured in photographs in the current issue of the in flight magazine for Sri Lankan Air. Both Christine and I had seen the beautiful photos. What a coincidence to meet the henna artist at her home for dinner!
She and Christine sat on the sofa for the henna painting. We were amused by her unusual technique. When a blob of henna was a bit too big, she wiped it off with her finger (fair enough). But, to clean the paint off her finger, instad of using a rag or a tissue, she variously used the sofa cushion, the wall behind the sofa, the curtain over the sofa, and her otherwise clean and attractive skirt. But, her work is beautiful. And the henna dries in a half hour, so the smears disappear into the living room furnishings pretty quickly.
The evening was a wonderful, warm experience.
We were on the old city section called Pettah, where the busy market bazaars were closing down. We were in thr area, buying school supplies and soccer balls to give to a school. Having gotten the notebooks and pens, we searched for a place to find the soccer balls. We found what we needed in a store, rather than a stall. A nice young man named Farzath waited on us in English and negotiated with us for a discount for a bunch of balls. On our way out, we told him about the Scavenger Hunt and asked if he could also help us by letting us go home with him for dinner. Absolutely! Love to!
It was around 6:30 and we were invited for 9/9:30. We dashed out to have a cocktail at the members only Colombo Cricket Club. This involved not only talking our way in (fast talk about memberships in other clubs, reciprocal, blather, blather, etc.). We got past the door. We entered the bar looking fairly disgusting. We were sweaty, stinky, and carrying a large plastic bag filled with 6 soccer balls, and a heavy tote bag filled with school supplies. Next trick was to actually get served a drink. When the waiter told us sorry, he couldn't serve us, we sidled up to a member at the bar to ask if he would host us (explaining the Scavenger Hunt of course, and paying our own way of course). The club walls are dark paneled, covered with photos of cricket and rugby teams. The names and pictures of the players morphed over time from very white and English in the past to very dark and Sri Lankan in the present. The bar area overlooks the playing field. Players were on the field, practicing under the lights.
We made a quick stop at the hotel to clean up and buy a gift and candy for our hosts. Farzath lives in a third floor apartment on top of a police station in the crowded old area of Pettah. His family is lovely! He and his wife have two little boys, about 4 years old and 6 months. They live with Farzath's parents and his brother and sister. They are Muslim and Christian. While we were visiting, a parade of friends and neighbors carried in their babies to show us. We looked at Farzath and his wife's wedding photo album and at baby pictures.
Dinner was String Hopper Koffu, a dish that resembles fried rice, chicken, lamb and delicious fresh roti made by Farzath's mother.
After dinner, Farzath's 17 year old sister hennaed Christine's finger. She wanted to do more, and to do mine, but it was getting late and we had an early morning the next day. The young girl is an accomplished henna artist. Her work was featured in photographs in the current issue of the in flight magazine for Sri Lankan Air. Both Christine and I had seen the beautiful photos. What a coincidence to meet the henna artist at her home for dinner!
She and Christine sat on the sofa for the henna painting. We were amused by her unusual technique. When a blob of henna was a bit too big, she wiped it off with her finger (fair enough). But, to clean the paint off her finger, instad of using a rag or a tissue, she variously used the sofa cushion, the wall behind the sofa, the curtain over the sofa, and her otherwise clean and attractive skirt. But, her work is beautiful. And the henna dries in a half hour, so the smears disappear into the living room furnishings pretty quickly.
The evening was a wonderful, warm experience.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Elephant Regrets
I am putting it out there. I am jealous of the people who went to the elephant conservation center. They had a fantastic experience watching the elephants paint. Heidi bought the elephant's still life of flowers. It is better than I could do. Rainey bought a painting of an elephant's rear end and a tree. It was a picture of life from an elephant's point of view. Totally amazing. Oh well. We didn't know what it was when we made our choices. And, you can't do everything.
Duty Free Refigerators, Washing Machines and Cars
We just landed in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Walking through the duty free shop in the airport, I was surprised to see large appliances like refrigerators, stoves, washing machines - and cars as the first items one encounters for sale in the duty free shop. Hmm.... Don't know much about this place yet. We are staying for five days.
Fish Ate My Feet
After lunch, I had a Thai massage, followed by a foot cleaning at a fish spa. The Thai massage lasted one hour. The spa was a lovely wooden pavilion with private rooms behind sliding panels. My masseuse led me in and handed me a pair of soft cotton pajamas, like hospital scrubs. She left the room for a few minutes so I could change. When she returned, she told me to lie down on the mat on the floor. She climbed onto the mat with me and spent the next hour pulling and stretching my limbs. She used all kinds of crazy leverage to tug on me. She twisted her arms around mine, stuck her elbow in my back and pulled. When she wasn't pulling, she was pushing. Instead of a kneading massage like I am accustomed to, she pushed - or rather - poked. Everything felt stretched out and longer. I came out of there feeling as tall as Travis, our ex-NBA fellow traveler.
From the Thai massage, we went right to the fish spa. It was one of the weirder ten minutes I ever spent in my life. First, the attendant washes your feet with soap in a stone tub and rinses them with water. Then, you climb up onto a banquette and drop your feet into a fish tank at the base of the seat. The fish tank below the banquette looks like an aquarium filled with little fish of about 1 inch in length, swimming about in clear water. As soon as you put your feet into the water, they swarm around and start feeding on the dead skin on your feet. They look like sharks moving in for the kill. It feels like little bites; not painful at all -- just very strange. And, it's even stranger to sit there, looking down at your feet knowing that creatures are gorging themselves on the dead skin hanging on your stinky feet.
From the Thai massage, we went right to the fish spa. It was one of the weirder ten minutes I ever spent in my life. First, the attendant washes your feet with soap in a stone tub and rinses them with water. Then, you climb up onto a banquette and drop your feet into a fish tank at the base of the seat. The fish tank below the banquette looks like an aquarium filled with little fish of about 1 inch in length, swimming about in clear water. As soon as you put your feet into the water, they swarm around and start feeding on the dead skin on your feet. They look like sharks moving in for the kill. It feels like little bites; not painful at all -- just very strange. And, it's even stranger to sit there, looking down at your feet knowing that creatures are gorging themselves on the dead skin hanging on your stinky feet.
Traveling Around the World Obliviously (but not really)
As we travel around playing our game, dramatic things are happening around us. We are in Thailand now, where people are thronging Bangkok in political protest. From our vantage in Chiang Mai, the only awareness we have of the protests and the unrest is from newspapers and CNN on TV. Last night in the night market, I heard a snippet on the radio in English, where a young man was shouting about terrorism. Sounding much like the antiwar rallies in the '60s and '70s, the guy was reading the United Nations' definition of terrorism and the killing of innocent people, and applied the definiton to the government.
The Icelandic volcanic ash that has shut down air travel across northern Europe is, of course, extraordinary. Undoubtedly it will affect and impair us, but we don't know how just yet. Reading the English newspaper reports about the projected eventual shortages of foods into Europe isn't sounding great.
Off to our noon meeting to hand in our results for Chiang Mai and to hear what's next.
This morning, we did two scavenges - a funicular ride to the mountain top, and a drive to the town of Lanphoun to do four scavenges involving finding wats and cherries.
The Icelandic volcanic ash that has shut down air travel across northern Europe is, of course, extraordinary. Undoubtedly it will affect and impair us, but we don't know how just yet. Reading the English newspaper reports about the projected eventual shortages of foods into Europe isn't sounding great.
Off to our noon meeting to hand in our results for Chiang Mai and to hear what's next.
This morning, we did two scavenges - a funicular ride to the mountain top, and a drive to the town of Lanphoun to do four scavenges involving finding wats and cherries.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
A Minute in Myanmar
We decided to go for the long haul bonuses in the morning. We went all the way to the north of Thailand on two different scavenges. First, we travelled three hours to Chiang Rai. We had to find the wat where the emerald Buddah, now located in Bangkok, is located. We researched the guide book and found it was Wat Phra Keo. A very long drive to look at a second rate has-been. But, if we continued on for another hour to the Myanmar border to get our passports stamped for bragging rights, we would accomplish another bonus. In order to do it correctly by the 2-scavenge-per-taxi rule, we had to pay our taxi to wait for two and a half hours, so we could have a fresh set of wheels to take us to the Myanmar border rather than risk not finding one back to Chiang Mai.
We left shotly after 6AM, taking food from the buffet with us in take out boxes.
The long drive wound through countryside dotted with police checkpoints. The Fodor's guide we were able to buy in the English section of a book store said that this region is rife with opium warlords who the police try to control. Great. We noticed that halfway into the drive. But then again, the guide book was five years old.
Stopping at a hotel in Mae Sai, the town at the northern border of Thailand, we got into a different taxi to do the one hour round trip to the Myanmar border. While explaining our intention to go across the border, the barely speaker of English said, "Oh, passport stamp". Apparently, we were not making an unusual request.
The border crossing involves walking into the emigration office in Mae Sai and then into the next room to buy a visa for Myanmar. In the Myanmar immigration office, you have your photo taken for a visa they produce at a desktop printer. Since the immigration office has a few tourists milling about, everyone's headshot photo has other people in the background. The visa is stamped "Walk" because the means of arrival is tobwalk across a bridge. Next comes the scary part. To pass border control into Myanmar, they give you the visa they just created and then they KEEP your passport while you visit Myanmar, with a promise that you will get it back when you leave the country. For me, that was not the formula for a lovely stay in Myanmar. We stayed long enough to improve their economy buy buying bottles of cold water and some nuts. Oh, and Brian bought a beer.
When we got to the office to emigrate, only Brian and Sami's passports were in the little plastic tray of passports to be returned. Christine and I had to wait. But, like watching your fellow travelers' luggage appear on the arrivals carousel, I had a good feeling that we would see our passports. We did. A few minutes later, ours were delivered. Phew.
We returned to Chiang Mai and did several more scavenges involving three markets and a wat, eating safe street food (grilled bananas), and talking our way into a restaurant kitchen to help cook something.
We left shotly after 6AM, taking food from the buffet with us in take out boxes.
The long drive wound through countryside dotted with police checkpoints. The Fodor's guide we were able to buy in the English section of a book store said that this region is rife with opium warlords who the police try to control. Great. We noticed that halfway into the drive. But then again, the guide book was five years old.
Stopping at a hotel in Mae Sai, the town at the northern border of Thailand, we got into a different taxi to do the one hour round trip to the Myanmar border. While explaining our intention to go across the border, the barely speaker of English said, "Oh, passport stamp". Apparently, we were not making an unusual request.
The border crossing involves walking into the emigration office in Mae Sai and then into the next room to buy a visa for Myanmar. In the Myanmar immigration office, you have your photo taken for a visa they produce at a desktop printer. Since the immigration office has a few tourists milling about, everyone's headshot photo has other people in the background. The visa is stamped "Walk" because the means of arrival is tobwalk across a bridge. Next comes the scary part. To pass border control into Myanmar, they give you the visa they just created and then they KEEP your passport while you visit Myanmar, with a promise that you will get it back when you leave the country. For me, that was not the formula for a lovely stay in Myanmar. We stayed long enough to improve their economy buy buying bottles of cold water and some nuts. Oh, and Brian bought a beer.
When we got to the office to emigrate, only Brian and Sami's passports were in the little plastic tray of passports to be returned. Christine and I had to wait. But, like watching your fellow travelers' luggage appear on the arrivals carousel, I had a good feeling that we would see our passports. We did. A few minutes later, ours were delivered. Phew.
We returned to Chiang Mai and did several more scavenges involving three markets and a wat, eating safe street food (grilled bananas), and talking our way into a restaurant kitchen to help cook something.
Chiang Mai at Night - from Tapirs to Girly Men
We arrived at our hotel in Chiang Mai and began scavenging at 6 PM. We were required to stop at 10 PM. We started in the old part of Chiang Mai, visiting three wats, and had to find out information specific to each - what the statues are made of in Wat Chang Man, and had a monk explain the four noble truths. At Wat Pra Songh, we had to figure out what was important about it. And, at Wat Chedi Luong, we talked to a resident monk about his beliefs.
We met up with Brian and Sami from Dubai and spent almost the whole evening with them. We went to the night safari which is a game park. There is lake in the center and a teak footbridge and path around the perimeter. We snaked around exhibits of mostly nocturnal creatures. It was a fabulous experience being in a game park at night. And, the paths were not lit to US standards, which made the challenge even more challenging. From there we went to catch the 9:30 show of the Simon Cabaret, which is now called something else and is a little tricky to find. It is a Broadway musical style cabaret, except that it is all "lady men". Even knowing that the performers were men, we found it hard to believe. They were so feminine and pretty. The dancing and lipsynching were really fine. As a special find, we got to eat their buffet dinner which was thrown in with the price of the ticket for free. That freed us from having to hunt around for a quick biite, and the buffet served one of the mandatory food scavenges. Khau neow mamuang is sticky rice with mango. Delicious.
We then parted ways with Brian and Sami. They are great travelers and fun. We made plans to travel tomorrow. Since you are limited to doing five scavenges with another team, we had to split up just before our last scavenge of the night. We were almost scavenged out anyway!
Christine and I went on to the Night Bazaar and located an eatery specializing in insects. We chose what looked like cricket and locust and "ate" them while posing for the camera shot for evidence, but gave the remainder to our tuk tuk driver who happily gobbled them down.
We planned a 6 AM meeting with Brian and Sami.
We met up with Brian and Sami from Dubai and spent almost the whole evening with them. We went to the night safari which is a game park. There is lake in the center and a teak footbridge and path around the perimeter. We snaked around exhibits of mostly nocturnal creatures. It was a fabulous experience being in a game park at night. And, the paths were not lit to US standards, which made the challenge even more challenging. From there we went to catch the 9:30 show of the Simon Cabaret, which is now called something else and is a little tricky to find. It is a Broadway musical style cabaret, except that it is all "lady men". Even knowing that the performers were men, we found it hard to believe. They were so feminine and pretty. The dancing and lipsynching were really fine. As a special find, we got to eat their buffet dinner which was thrown in with the price of the ticket for free. That freed us from having to hunt around for a quick biite, and the buffet served one of the mandatory food scavenges. Khau neow mamuang is sticky rice with mango. Delicious.
We then parted ways with Brian and Sami. They are great travelers and fun. We made plans to travel tomorrow. Since you are limited to doing five scavenges with another team, we had to split up just before our last scavenge of the night. We were almost scavenged out anyway!
Christine and I went on to the Night Bazaar and located an eatery specializing in insects. We chose what looked like cricket and locust and "ate" them while posing for the camera shot for evidence, but gave the remainder to our tuk tuk driver who happily gobbled them down.
We planned a 6 AM meeting with Brian and Sami.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Hanoi - Mopeds and Ho
We are allowed to take a taxi or other public means of transport and have it wait but we may keep it for only two scavenges. We started our day full of scavenges by visiting the ancient gate to the city up at the northern border. The taxi waited while we snapped a photo of ourselves in front of it. We got back in the taxi to go do a scavenge in the market, but as we drove along, we realized we had failed to walk throught the gate; and posing in front was not enough. We hadWe started our day full of scavenges at the ancient gate to the city. the driver turn around to take us back so we could do it right. Dumb waste of time. (Ten minutes, maybe). In the market, we had to find something from the war. We took a picture of camoflage pants. From the market, we headed to Ho Chi Minh's masoleum.
But first, a word about taxis and dong. The legitimate ones are quite reasonably priced. The airport trip of a half hour or so in a large taxi was $12. But In Hanoi, rogue fake taxis charge ten times that. We were warned but fell for it more than once. Part of the reason is that the currency conversion is hard to manipulate. There are about 19,000 Vietnamese dong to the dollar. Just remember to lop off four zeroes and divide by two. Easy? Let's just say that we paid $20 for what should have been about a $2 taxi ride.
To add a little salt to the wound, the creep didn't even drop us off in the right place for access to the mausoleum. The grounds must be one thousand acres (not really, but it felt like it) and we had to walk around a good bit of the walled off area to get in.
Then we were faced with security that takes your camera away from you, inserts it in a little tote bag in exchange for a numbered token and the promise that you will get your camera back at the exit to the mausoleum. No choice but to trust.
Ho lies in state in a glass case. The room is regally somber. Nine soldiers in crisp white uniforms stand guard like the Buckingham Palace guards, erect and unblinking. No one in the long snaking line of tourists whispered a word as we respectfully filed by. Not even the girl wiggling on her stillettos in front of me.
We visited some other sites on the palace grounds including Ho's stilt house which is a modest structure in the style of peasants, which he chose to live in, rather than the palace. The sparse wooden house is strkingly meager and simple.
Next was to answer the question: it was shot down during the Christmas bombing raids on December 19, 1972. What was it? Where is it? Armed with a guide book and a map, we confidently headed to the Museum of Military History. The grounds next to the museum are a bit jarring to an American. The tangled bodies of US military aircraft shot out of the sky are on display, arranged like a sculpture garden. Each airplane has a sign next to it with details about date and location it was downed. Probably not a coincidence that the Vietnamese flag waves atop a tower high above. We got to work, reading each of the signs. We could not find an aircraft with the right date. We went into the museum and scoured the exhibits. There was a small map on a wall showing Xs of locations where two B52s were shot down a period surrounding the specific December date we sought. Having spent 45 minutes reading every scrap of English, we left. Turns out we sid not get it. That plane lies crashed in a lake in the southern part of the city.
We visited the prison museum at the Hanoi Hilton. Very sad. Before it was used on Americans, they tortured and guillotined others there.
We did some other scavenges and had lunch at Cha Ca La Vong. The restaurant has been there for 100 years. They serve one dish only. They put a heated pot in front of you with some pieces of sauteed fish and less broth than a Mongolian hot pot, and you heat up fresh greens. Peanuts and dill are sprinkled on top. It was fantastic.
Next was to take a bus from Long Bien bridge area to Bat Throng. The bus terminal in that area was crowded. We looked around for the right place to stand for our destination. We "asked" a policeman by mispronouncing the name of our destination and playing charades to find out the fare and whether we needed exact change to board To ask the fare, Christine pulled out a 100,000 dong bill (worth about $50) to show him. He gasped, curled his hand around hers to hide the money and looked around motioning to be careful of pickpocketers. The farr is 3000 dong and we needed to use a much smaller denomination When the bus came and we prepared to board, I felt a tug on my purse. I foiled the pickpocketer.
The trip to the town of Bat Trang was about 20 minutes through some rural areas. The town makes pottery and there is a dizzying amount for sale. The scavenge was to try your hand at making something. In an area of all retail vendors, we spied a guy on a second floor balcony, working a potter's wheel. We convinced him and his friendly friends to let us try working with them for a moment and a photo.
When we finished, we returned to Hanoi we had originally planned to do the return trip to Hanoi by taxi, thinking that thw bus would be nerve wracking. Actually it was quite pleasant and we scrapped the plan and took the bus. Some darling high school children boarded and a 17 year old girl approached me, eager to converse in English. Great experience.
As the bus pulled back into the depot, we braced for the moped chaos and continued on scavenging until about 8 PM. The next morning, we had a few more hours to get in the last few scavenges. We did as many as we could until the noon deadline.
All the fellow travellers met in the Hotel Metropole lobby, handed in our results and learned what's next. Luang Prabang, Laos. Yay!!! I hoped we would go to Laos.
Before leaving for the airport, a few of us had lunch and massages in the hotel spa. Soothes away the pickpockets, moped-dodging and mud.
But first, a word about taxis and dong. The legitimate ones are quite reasonably priced. The airport trip of a half hour or so in a large taxi was $12. But In Hanoi, rogue fake taxis charge ten times that. We were warned but fell for it more than once. Part of the reason is that the currency conversion is hard to manipulate. There are about 19,000 Vietnamese dong to the dollar. Just remember to lop off four zeroes and divide by two. Easy? Let's just say that we paid $20 for what should have been about a $2 taxi ride.
To add a little salt to the wound, the creep didn't even drop us off in the right place for access to the mausoleum. The grounds must be one thousand acres (not really, but it felt like it) and we had to walk around a good bit of the walled off area to get in.
Then we were faced with security that takes your camera away from you, inserts it in a little tote bag in exchange for a numbered token and the promise that you will get your camera back at the exit to the mausoleum. No choice but to trust.
Ho lies in state in a glass case. The room is regally somber. Nine soldiers in crisp white uniforms stand guard like the Buckingham Palace guards, erect and unblinking. No one in the long snaking line of tourists whispered a word as we respectfully filed by. Not even the girl wiggling on her stillettos in front of me.
We visited some other sites on the palace grounds including Ho's stilt house which is a modest structure in the style of peasants, which he chose to live in, rather than the palace. The sparse wooden house is strkingly meager and simple.
Next was to answer the question: it was shot down during the Christmas bombing raids on December 19, 1972. What was it? Where is it? Armed with a guide book and a map, we confidently headed to the Museum of Military History. The grounds next to the museum are a bit jarring to an American. The tangled bodies of US military aircraft shot out of the sky are on display, arranged like a sculpture garden. Each airplane has a sign next to it with details about date and location it was downed. Probably not a coincidence that the Vietnamese flag waves atop a tower high above. We got to work, reading each of the signs. We could not find an aircraft with the right date. We went into the museum and scoured the exhibits. There was a small map on a wall showing Xs of locations where two B52s were shot down a period surrounding the specific December date we sought. Having spent 45 minutes reading every scrap of English, we left. Turns out we sid not get it. That plane lies crashed in a lake in the southern part of the city.
We visited the prison museum at the Hanoi Hilton. Very sad. Before it was used on Americans, they tortured and guillotined others there.
We did some other scavenges and had lunch at Cha Ca La Vong. The restaurant has been there for 100 years. They serve one dish only. They put a heated pot in front of you with some pieces of sauteed fish and less broth than a Mongolian hot pot, and you heat up fresh greens. Peanuts and dill are sprinkled on top. It was fantastic.
Next was to take a bus from Long Bien bridge area to Bat Throng. The bus terminal in that area was crowded. We looked around for the right place to stand for our destination. We "asked" a policeman by mispronouncing the name of our destination and playing charades to find out the fare and whether we needed exact change to board To ask the fare, Christine pulled out a 100,000 dong bill (worth about $50) to show him. He gasped, curled his hand around hers to hide the money and looked around motioning to be careful of pickpocketers. The farr is 3000 dong and we needed to use a much smaller denomination When the bus came and we prepared to board, I felt a tug on my purse. I foiled the pickpocketer.
The trip to the town of Bat Trang was about 20 minutes through some rural areas. The town makes pottery and there is a dizzying amount for sale. The scavenge was to try your hand at making something. In an area of all retail vendors, we spied a guy on a second floor balcony, working a potter's wheel. We convinced him and his friendly friends to let us try working with them for a moment and a photo.
When we finished, we returned to Hanoi we had originally planned to do the return trip to Hanoi by taxi, thinking that thw bus would be nerve wracking. Actually it was quite pleasant and we scrapped the plan and took the bus. Some darling high school children boarded and a 17 year old girl approached me, eager to converse in English. Great experience.
As the bus pulled back into the depot, we braced for the moped chaos and continued on scavenging until about 8 PM. The next morning, we had a few more hours to get in the last few scavenges. We did as many as we could until the noon deadline.
All the fellow travellers met in the Hotel Metropole lobby, handed in our results and learned what's next. Luang Prabang, Laos. Yay!!! I hoped we would go to Laos.
Before leaving for the airport, a few of us had lunch and massages in the hotel spa. Soothes away the pickpockets, moped-dodging and mud.
Luong Prabang, Laos
If I have any hope of finishing this blog in a reasonable time, I am going to refer to this place as LP. I could just call it deliciously special. LP is in northern Laos. Laos is bordered by China to the north, Vietnam to the east, Cambodia to the south and Thailand and Myanmar to the west.
LP is a beautiful place. The whole town is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is surrounded by gentle mountains and slopes down to the Mekong River. There are dozens of wats (temples), many of which are decorated ornately in gold. The town has a languid feel - birds chirping, cyclists holding umbrellas to shield from the sun, saffron-robed monks gliding about....
We started our 6 AM to 10 PM day by participating in the tak bak ceremony at dawn. The monks in their beautiful flowing robes snake in a line down the street. Alongside the buildings, people line up with offerings to the monks. The vendors of the offerings are also on the street, selling the appropriate items to offer. We joined the group of people making offerings. We offered sticky rice in clumps, pink taffy candies, and something wrapped in little packets of banana leaves. The monks file by, holding baskets and they choose items from our offerings, to place in their baskets. Although the ceremony is spiritual and people are quiet and respectful, I couldn't help but see a similarity to Halloween, with the dressed-up monks holding baskets, taking candy and food from those offering it to them. Apologies for my irreverent thoughts. We noticed that between every five monks or so, there was someone carrying a basket that was being used as a slop bucket. Many monks were removing the sticky rice balls from their baskets and dropping them into the slop bucket. We later learned that the ritual relates to the new year celebration - giving back the spirit - or something I obviously did not catch correctly.
New Years in LP - a HUGE event! It is four days of festivities. Our day in LP is the last day of Pimai, the New Year's celebration. The ceremonies include buddah washings, Miss New Year crowing, and construction of little sand stuppas as requests for prosperity. The highlight is that people throw buckets of water on each other. People stand by the side of the road and douse every vehicle that goes by. It is great fun for the Laotians and visitors.
We chose to take a boat across the Mekong River to visit Wat Long Khoun. The boatman we found on the shore had a rickety longboat but we took it anyway. Being out on that quiet river was very special. We drifted by very few people or boats. We saw a few fishermen net-fishing and some children along the shoreline. We visited the wat, reachable by climbing a high hill. Our boatman also took us to another village scavenge in Ban Suan, and we found children playing petanque (a bocci ball game), and we had to join the game, which we did. We gathered that these villages are reachable only by boat. We did not see or hear any vehicles. We felt privileged to have the chance to discover and explore those remote places without a guide- two women alone - figuring it out.
Arriving back into LP by boat, we quicly visited the National Palace Museum and then set off out of town for the elephant ride in a teak grove. What fun! I have ridden elephants before but this was special. It was just Christine and I and the elephant and our driver in the forest. The driver was 20-ish guy. At one point his cell phone rang and he kept driving the elephant while talking on the cell. He carried a large saw balanced on the elephant's neck. We hoped it wasn't intended to saw off the heads of tourists once we got far enough into the woods. (just kidding-the place is an elephant conservation site, so we had some confidence it was legit). As we rounded a bend, we came across a large tree that had fallen across the path. The driver jumped down off the elephant with the saw and started to saw the tree that was about four feet in diameter. Are you kidding? One guy with a little saw? We motioned that we preferred to turn back. By the time we returned to the van, we had ridden for about an hour. That was plenty!
We drove to Phonesay, a small village with weavers. After the car could go no further, we walked, including passing over two rickety bamboo bridges. We found weavers with looms around the sides of their houses.
Next scavenge was to go to the Phousy Market and buy toothpaste, shampoo and cookies for children in an orphanage and deliver the items. We were surprised at how well the dormatories are maintained from the outside. Inside, the walls are lined with one long bed, the length of the room, with children sleeping side by side sharing the giant bed. A few teenage boys were napping when we looked in. Upon giving our bundles of 20 toothpastes and a dozen shampoo bottles, we learned that 500 children live there. We did not even make a dent in their needs.
Next was heading out to swim in the waterfalls. The area was crowded with people picnicing and celebrating the new year. Lots of joy of familes and friends enjoying each others' company.
We headed back into LP to do some final scavenges. The skies opened up into an intense thunderstorm. Ironically, this was the last evening of the new year's celebration, which also marks the beginning of the rainy season.
Next stop: Chiang Mai, Thailand
LP is a beautiful place. The whole town is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is surrounded by gentle mountains and slopes down to the Mekong River. There are dozens of wats (temples), many of which are decorated ornately in gold. The town has a languid feel - birds chirping, cyclists holding umbrellas to shield from the sun, saffron-robed monks gliding about....
We started our 6 AM to 10 PM day by participating in the tak bak ceremony at dawn. The monks in their beautiful flowing robes snake in a line down the street. Alongside the buildings, people line up with offerings to the monks. The vendors of the offerings are also on the street, selling the appropriate items to offer. We joined the group of people making offerings. We offered sticky rice in clumps, pink taffy candies, and something wrapped in little packets of banana leaves. The monks file by, holding baskets and they choose items from our offerings, to place in their baskets. Although the ceremony is spiritual and people are quiet and respectful, I couldn't help but see a similarity to Halloween, with the dressed-up monks holding baskets, taking candy and food from those offering it to them. Apologies for my irreverent thoughts. We noticed that between every five monks or so, there was someone carrying a basket that was being used as a slop bucket. Many monks were removing the sticky rice balls from their baskets and dropping them into the slop bucket. We later learned that the ritual relates to the new year celebration - giving back the spirit - or something I obviously did not catch correctly.
New Years in LP - a HUGE event! It is four days of festivities. Our day in LP is the last day of Pimai, the New Year's celebration. The ceremonies include buddah washings, Miss New Year crowing, and construction of little sand stuppas as requests for prosperity. The highlight is that people throw buckets of water on each other. People stand by the side of the road and douse every vehicle that goes by. It is great fun for the Laotians and visitors.
We chose to take a boat across the Mekong River to visit Wat Long Khoun. The boatman we found on the shore had a rickety longboat but we took it anyway. Being out on that quiet river was very special. We drifted by very few people or boats. We saw a few fishermen net-fishing and some children along the shoreline. We visited the wat, reachable by climbing a high hill. Our boatman also took us to another village scavenge in Ban Suan, and we found children playing petanque (a bocci ball game), and we had to join the game, which we did. We gathered that these villages are reachable only by boat. We did not see or hear any vehicles. We felt privileged to have the chance to discover and explore those remote places without a guide- two women alone - figuring it out.
Arriving back into LP by boat, we quicly visited the National Palace Museum and then set off out of town for the elephant ride in a teak grove. What fun! I have ridden elephants before but this was special. It was just Christine and I and the elephant and our driver in the forest. The driver was 20-ish guy. At one point his cell phone rang and he kept driving the elephant while talking on the cell. He carried a large saw balanced on the elephant's neck. We hoped it wasn't intended to saw off the heads of tourists once we got far enough into the woods. (just kidding-the place is an elephant conservation site, so we had some confidence it was legit). As we rounded a bend, we came across a large tree that had fallen across the path. The driver jumped down off the elephant with the saw and started to saw the tree that was about four feet in diameter. Are you kidding? One guy with a little saw? We motioned that we preferred to turn back. By the time we returned to the van, we had ridden for about an hour. That was plenty!
We drove to Phonesay, a small village with weavers. After the car could go no further, we walked, including passing over two rickety bamboo bridges. We found weavers with looms around the sides of their houses.
Next scavenge was to go to the Phousy Market and buy toothpaste, shampoo and cookies for children in an orphanage and deliver the items. We were surprised at how well the dormatories are maintained from the outside. Inside, the walls are lined with one long bed, the length of the room, with children sleeping side by side sharing the giant bed. A few teenage boys were napping when we looked in. Upon giving our bundles of 20 toothpastes and a dozen shampoo bottles, we learned that 500 children live there. We did not even make a dent in their needs.
Next was heading out to swim in the waterfalls. The area was crowded with people picnicing and celebrating the new year. Lots of joy of familes and friends enjoying each others' company.
We headed back into LP to do some final scavenges. The skies opened up into an intense thunderstorm. Ironically, this was the last evening of the new year's celebration, which also marks the beginning of the rainy season.
Next stop: Chiang Mai, Thailand
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Hurrying around Hanoi
We landed in Hanoi in the afternoon. The one hour ride from the airport took us across beautiful stretches of lush green fields, just as I had imagined and hoped I would see. The fields were spotted with farmers, bent over working the fields, topped by their pointy bamboo hats, with work animals scattered around. As the bus brought us into a less rural area, the roadside was lined loosely with little shops and homes. People seem to live their social lives along the side of the road. They congregate, seated together outside, often around little tables. Many sit on stools that look like kindergarten chairs. They are eating, drinking, playing cards, seeming enjoying each others' company. I saw two me chatting, sitting together next to each other in the opened trunk of a car. The weather is very warm, humid, overcast, and on-and-off misty rain. My impression of Vietnam as a serene pastoral setting was trashed as we entered Hanoi. The chaos in the center of the city is nearly constant. The streets are choked with mopeds, noisily zipping around with no regard for traffic lights or one-way signs. Every time we cross the street, we must focus intently. Looking both ways to find a clear spot and play chicken with the drivers is not enough. You still have to watch that somebody doesn't fly at you, through a red light coming the wrong way on a one way street. I will not miss that when we leave.
We checked into the Hotel Metropole. Gorgeous old hotel with lots of history dating back to French colonial days, fell into disrepair and now has been restored exquisitely. Our rooms are in the old part, with grand varnished wood shutters over the windows which overlook the pool courtyard. We had an hour or so to settle in before the scavenging began. I sat by the pool and did my Hong Kong blog. After I finished, I accidentally pushed "back" instead of "send" and erased it. That's my apology for less than I would have written (and did write).
The Vietnam leg runs from April 13 in the evening until noon April 15. There are 38 scavenges plus five bonuses which take many hours but reward more points.
We set off with almost the whole group, to find an English bookstore to buy guidebooks, and then to get dinner together. There are seven scavenger hunt teams. They are: Zoe and Rainey (last year's champions who came in second the previous year and plan to do this every year for the next ten years), Heidi and Lily, Kit and Joanne, April and Travis, Brian and Sammy, and Carol and Rebecca. Having purchased our guidebooks, we set off to do the first of the the three mandatory food scavenges together. We could only find one of the restaurants in all of the different guidebooks we had purchased, and it was too far away. So, we decided to "find and eat a Vietnamese dish known as ca kho". As we stood outside the bookshop figuring out our dinner, Heidi glanced at the menu posted outside of the restaurant next door. Ca kho was on the menu. It is a fish stew served in a clay pot. It was delicious. After dinner, some people went back to the hotel, but Christine and I wanted to stroll a bit, so we went with Kit and Joanne to see if we could knock off a scavenge or two. We tried to find the cinema. We had the address but walked all around the block and into a dark alley that somebody told us to go into. After wasting much time, we dropped that effort and went instead to the Old Quarter to locate five streets. The old quarter is crowded with dozens of little streets that spew off in all directions with little logic. Many of the streets have two word names with the first word "Hang", which means market. We had to find Hang Ca, Bac, Hom, Quat and Trong. Each of the names refers to what was sold by merchants on that street. Even though we had a very detailed map, it was hard to find the streets. The smallest one, Ca, was not on our map but we found someone to show us. At 11 PM, we returned to the hotel. We bumped into Lily and Heidi who said they were thinking about going to the 2 AM wholesale market to try some hot pink dragon fruit. We went in a taxi together to the bustling market near the Long Bien Bridge. It was amazing. Actually, before we got to the market, the taxi driver had misunderstood and took us to a different market just up the street a bit, but all of the vendors were unloading bunches of beautiful flowers from their mopeds and bicycles. We had stumbled into completing a different scavenge - visit the Quang Ba flower market early for some serious eye candy. Well, 1:45 was early, but the market was bustling, with people setting up their stalls with profusions of brilliant color. When we realized the error, we snapped our photos and went on in search of dragon fruit up the road. Seeing the wholesale food market in action was extraordinary. There was the usual market chaos of having to watch your feet and your life to make sure that you don't get run over by a truck backing up or by an aggressive hand-cart pusher. Here, there were people weaving through the aisles balancing long sticks on their shoulders, with baskets hanging in front and in back of them, filled with produce. Bicycles and mopeds laden with goods were weaving in and out of all of this. We didn't spy any dragon fruit at the outset. We walked deeper and deeper into the chaos, we noticed a guy following us at our every turn. Clutching our bags, we felt the urgency to get the fruit and get out of there. Christine spied a stand with dragon fruit and we were able to accomplish the scavenge and leave.
By the time we got back, it was 3 AM. We were debating whether to go for the big point bonus by visiting Halong Bay, which meant an entire day doing a trip which really should be no less than two days. And, we gathered, even when we got there, we would not be able to do much of what you go there do. Plus, we would be forfeiting the time to visit many of the sights in Hanoi. That seemed such a pity. So, we decided to stay in Hanoi, which meant that we really had to figure out the clues and make the most of our time here, with all the little local activities. To do that kind of planning means sitting with the scavenge list, a guidebook and a map, and plotting each of the items to develop a list of what to do in what order. I spent one hour until 4 AM, working on the plan. Then, it was hard to fall asleep before our planned wake up time at 6 AM. Not a relaxing vacation.
We checked into the Hotel Metropole. Gorgeous old hotel with lots of history dating back to French colonial days, fell into disrepair and now has been restored exquisitely. Our rooms are in the old part, with grand varnished wood shutters over the windows which overlook the pool courtyard. We had an hour or so to settle in before the scavenging began. I sat by the pool and did my Hong Kong blog. After I finished, I accidentally pushed "back" instead of "send" and erased it. That's my apology for less than I would have written (and did write).
The Vietnam leg runs from April 13 in the evening until noon April 15. There are 38 scavenges plus five bonuses which take many hours but reward more points.
We set off with almost the whole group, to find an English bookstore to buy guidebooks, and then to get dinner together. There are seven scavenger hunt teams. They are: Zoe and Rainey (last year's champions who came in second the previous year and plan to do this every year for the next ten years), Heidi and Lily, Kit and Joanne, April and Travis, Brian and Sammy, and Carol and Rebecca. Having purchased our guidebooks, we set off to do the first of the the three mandatory food scavenges together. We could only find one of the restaurants in all of the different guidebooks we had purchased, and it was too far away. So, we decided to "find and eat a Vietnamese dish known as ca kho". As we stood outside the bookshop figuring out our dinner, Heidi glanced at the menu posted outside of the restaurant next door. Ca kho was on the menu. It is a fish stew served in a clay pot. It was delicious. After dinner, some people went back to the hotel, but Christine and I wanted to stroll a bit, so we went with Kit and Joanne to see if we could knock off a scavenge or two. We tried to find the cinema. We had the address but walked all around the block and into a dark alley that somebody told us to go into. After wasting much time, we dropped that effort and went instead to the Old Quarter to locate five streets. The old quarter is crowded with dozens of little streets that spew off in all directions with little logic. Many of the streets have two word names with the first word "Hang", which means market. We had to find Hang Ca, Bac, Hom, Quat and Trong. Each of the names refers to what was sold by merchants on that street. Even though we had a very detailed map, it was hard to find the streets. The smallest one, Ca, was not on our map but we found someone to show us. At 11 PM, we returned to the hotel. We bumped into Lily and Heidi who said they were thinking about going to the 2 AM wholesale market to try some hot pink dragon fruit. We went in a taxi together to the bustling market near the Long Bien Bridge. It was amazing. Actually, before we got to the market, the taxi driver had misunderstood and took us to a different market just up the street a bit, but all of the vendors were unloading bunches of beautiful flowers from their mopeds and bicycles. We had stumbled into completing a different scavenge - visit the Quang Ba flower market early for some serious eye candy. Well, 1:45 was early, but the market was bustling, with people setting up their stalls with profusions of brilliant color. When we realized the error, we snapped our photos and went on in search of dragon fruit up the road. Seeing the wholesale food market in action was extraordinary. There was the usual market chaos of having to watch your feet and your life to make sure that you don't get run over by a truck backing up or by an aggressive hand-cart pusher. Here, there were people weaving through the aisles balancing long sticks on their shoulders, with baskets hanging in front and in back of them, filled with produce. Bicycles and mopeds laden with goods were weaving in and out of all of this. We didn't spy any dragon fruit at the outset. We walked deeper and deeper into the chaos, we noticed a guy following us at our every turn. Clutching our bags, we felt the urgency to get the fruit and get out of there. Christine spied a stand with dragon fruit and we were able to accomplish the scavenge and leave.
By the time we got back, it was 3 AM. We were debating whether to go for the big point bonus by visiting Halong Bay, which meant an entire day doing a trip which really should be no less than two days. And, we gathered, even when we got there, we would not be able to do much of what you go there do. Plus, we would be forfeiting the time to visit many of the sights in Hanoi. That seemed such a pity. So, we decided to stay in Hanoi, which meant that we really had to figure out the clues and make the most of our time here, with all the little local activities. To do that kind of planning means sitting with the scavenge list, a guidebook and a map, and plotting each of the items to develop a list of what to do in what order. I spent one hour until 4 AM, working on the plan. Then, it was hard to fall asleep before our planned wake up time at 6 AM. Not a relaxing vacation.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Window on Vietnam
On our way to Hanoi. The Vietnam Airlines Magazine has a section called "Window on Vietnam".
The History section offers a one sentence summary of what we Americans call the Vietnam War. It says: "American War: Vietnam fought America from 1954 to Ho Chi Minh's victory on April 30, 1975".
The Price Guide says, "In Vietnam,be prepared to bargain. To give you an idea of where to start, we suggest the following prices". They offer prices for some transport and food items. The thing that caught my eye was the selection of Grooming. The four choices are: shoeshine, hairwash, street haircut and street-side laundry.
I am also reading today's Viet Nam News. There is a section about children called "Owners of the Future". I found one of the two lead stories to be quite sad. More than 81% of pre-school and primary school pupils suffer from tooth decay. Wow.
The History section offers a one sentence summary of what we Americans call the Vietnam War. It says: "American War: Vietnam fought America from 1954 to Ho Chi Minh's victory on April 30, 1975".
The Price Guide says, "In Vietnam,be prepared to bargain. To give you an idea of where to start, we suggest the following prices". They offer prices for some transport and food items. The thing that caught my eye was the selection of Grooming. The four choices are: shoeshine, hairwash, street haircut and street-side laundry.
I am also reading today's Viet Nam News. There is a section about children called "Owners of the Future". I found one of the two lead stories to be quite sad. More than 81% of pre-school and primary school pupils suffer from tooth decay. Wow.
Macao and the Passport Pickles
We set off for a day in Macao via ferry. As we were purchasing our tickets at the ferry station, the ticket seller said to make sure we have our passports. Christine realized she had locked hers
safely away in the hotel room safe. We did a hotel round tripper and returned to the ferry station. We were set back by one hour. (Not bad, considering we could have arrived in Macao before we discovered the need for a passport). The ferry ride was a comfortable one hour fifteen, with assigned seats like an airplane.
When we arrived in Macao, there was a very long line for immigration. The man, wife and teenager in front of us held Myanmar passports. The immigration official inspected their documents and then called over a colleage who led them off to a separate area.
Christine approached and showed her Barbadian passport. The official started to motion to send her over to the guy-who-hauls-people-away, but Christine had a trick up her sleeve. She travels with two passports. She offered up her EU passport instead. That worked better. She was whisked right on through to the other side, into Macao. I was next. My USA passport got me through quickly without a hitch. Phew. We left the noisy crowded immigration hall and set off to scavenge.
We had to do four of six things. Heading by taxi to the northern border of Macau, we visited the Portas de Cerco, the gates that the Portugese constructed as the gateway into mainland China when Macao was a Portuguese colony. We did a quick drive-by visit of the Sao Paolo church which is now only the front wall, having been destroyed by fire, but seems to be an ornate sculptural frame.
The next scavenge took us to the casino district - just as glitzy as Las Vegas. We had to get a casino chip at either the Wynn or the Casino Lisboa. We chose Wynn. The casino looked just like one would expect in Las Vegas except that the staff and gamblers are almost all Asian (and skinny).
We went to A Ma Temple which honors seafarers. We had to take a rickshaw. Ugh. The poor guy was hauling us in the heat with buses and taxis passing by.
Taking the turbo ferry back to Hong Kong, we scavenged the afternoon and evening. One of the more interesting scavenges was to talk ou way in to the Foreign Correspondents' Club (members only) and look at the photo of the last helicopter leaving the US embassy in Saigon. The framed photo is on the wall in a lowly lit wood paneled room. About ten journalists were seated at tables working, either alone or in pairs, speaking in hushed tones. That was a cool experience.
We had several markets to choose from and had to visit two. The choices were: bird, flower, goldfish, jade, ladies, and Bowrington Road. We chose ladies and goldfish because theybwere near each other and near the Mong Kok train station. The ladies market is like a consumer goods knock off fleas market on steroids. The stalls seem two stories high and are packed together. Many are in front of street level stores and srve as a sort of foyer to the stores. The goldfish market is further down the same street. As the ladies' stalls peter out, the stores start developing a theme of pets, pet food, aquariums, and then fish - and then nothing but goldfish. There are large tanks on the street and in store windows, packed with blazing varieties of goldfish. One vendor on an alley adjacent to the main street had pinned rows of dozens of plastic bags of water, each with a sole fish in it. They looked like clear balls with fish floating inside. Big fish, little fish, red fish, gold fish.
Our choice for mandatory dinner was Nobu at the Intercontinental Hotel overlooking the harbor so we could also watch the light show. No suffering here and it was fabulous. The hitch was our attire. No time to change clothes. We were pretty sweaty and gross, wearing sneakers and chunky day packs. And, to make it worse, the restaurant staff has that weird custom of applauding when a new group enters. As we looked around, we noticed other diners wearing similar couture.
The last scavenge of the evening was karaoke. Instead of embarrasing yourself in a public bar, you rent a private studio for an hour at a time, where you could host friends. All we did was sing one song (Imagine by John Lennon) and leave.
safely away in the hotel room safe. We did a hotel round tripper and returned to the ferry station. We were set back by one hour. (Not bad, considering we could have arrived in Macao before we discovered the need for a passport). The ferry ride was a comfortable one hour fifteen, with assigned seats like an airplane.
When we arrived in Macao, there was a very long line for immigration. The man, wife and teenager in front of us held Myanmar passports. The immigration official inspected their documents and then called over a colleage who led them off to a separate area.
Christine approached and showed her Barbadian passport. The official started to motion to send her over to the guy-who-hauls-people-away, but Christine had a trick up her sleeve. She travels with two passports. She offered up her EU passport instead. That worked better. She was whisked right on through to the other side, into Macao. I was next. My USA passport got me through quickly without a hitch. Phew. We left the noisy crowded immigration hall and set off to scavenge.
We had to do four of six things. Heading by taxi to the northern border of Macau, we visited the Portas de Cerco, the gates that the Portugese constructed as the gateway into mainland China when Macao was a Portuguese colony. We did a quick drive-by visit of the Sao Paolo church which is now only the front wall, having been destroyed by fire, but seems to be an ornate sculptural frame.
The next scavenge took us to the casino district - just as glitzy as Las Vegas. We had to get a casino chip at either the Wynn or the Casino Lisboa. We chose Wynn. The casino looked just like one would expect in Las Vegas except that the staff and gamblers are almost all Asian (and skinny).
We went to A Ma Temple which honors seafarers. We had to take a rickshaw. Ugh. The poor guy was hauling us in the heat with buses and taxis passing by.
Taking the turbo ferry back to Hong Kong, we scavenged the afternoon and evening. One of the more interesting scavenges was to talk ou way in to the Foreign Correspondents' Club (members only) and look at the photo of the last helicopter leaving the US embassy in Saigon. The framed photo is on the wall in a lowly lit wood paneled room. About ten journalists were seated at tables working, either alone or in pairs, speaking in hushed tones. That was a cool experience.
We had several markets to choose from and had to visit two. The choices were: bird, flower, goldfish, jade, ladies, and Bowrington Road. We chose ladies and goldfish because theybwere near each other and near the Mong Kok train station. The ladies market is like a consumer goods knock off fleas market on steroids. The stalls seem two stories high and are packed together. Many are in front of street level stores and srve as a sort of foyer to the stores. The goldfish market is further down the same street. As the ladies' stalls peter out, the stores start developing a theme of pets, pet food, aquariums, and then fish - and then nothing but goldfish. There are large tanks on the street and in store windows, packed with blazing varieties of goldfish. One vendor on an alley adjacent to the main street had pinned rows of dozens of plastic bags of water, each with a sole fish in it. They looked like clear balls with fish floating inside. Big fish, little fish, red fish, gold fish.
Our choice for mandatory dinner was Nobu at the Intercontinental Hotel overlooking the harbor so we could also watch the light show. No suffering here and it was fabulous. The hitch was our attire. No time to change clothes. We were pretty sweaty and gross, wearing sneakers and chunky day packs. And, to make it worse, the restaurant staff has that weird custom of applauding when a new group enters. As we looked around, we noticed other diners wearing similar couture.
The last scavenge of the evening was karaoke. Instead of embarrasing yourself in a public bar, you rent a private studio for an hour at a time, where you could host friends. All we did was sing one song (Imagine by John Lennon) and leave.
She Wong Yee - hard place to find
Every day, we must do mandatory food scavenges - usually two. If you do not do the food scavenges, your points for the day do not count. The trip organizer, Bill Chalmers created the rule because some previous competitors who were very competitive did not stop to eat. Not healthy. There is always a choice of about 5 places. But usually, some are out af the way it is very hard to figure out others. When I say hard to figure out, I mean after asking many many people and witnessing much head scratching. Mid-day on the first day, we were in Central Hong Kong. We had just finished riding the world's longest escalator. It is outdoors, although covered with a roof, replaces a street of steps and ascends a steep hill through congested neighborhoods. It was a facinating ride by shops, restaurants, apartments. The restaurant we chose was simply referred to as "She Wong Yee in Causeway Bay". We got to the Causeway Bay area by choosing another scavenge - to ride the British Double Decker tram. Having stopped many people on the street to inquire about the restaurant, we finally found a darling English-speaking girl who knew it and gave us directions. Barely helpful, though. This is consistent with our experience that few people seem to know or use street names in Hong Kong. Compound that by our intended destination being named in Chinese (no transliteration). But fortunately, the street was only two blocks long. Process of elimination led us to focus on the eateries, then zero in on the ones with no English letters. Walking into the first one that met those criteria, I spied an envelope on the cashier's desk, addressed to the restaurant we sought. Bingo.
Although the wall-posted menus were in Chinese, the waiter gave us a list that offered choices something like: beef, pork, rice, vegetables, chicken. We ordered the vegys, which were perfectly steamed Chinese broccoli with a sweet thick soy sauce. Delicious. As we prepared to leave, a young couple who were locals approached us and asked if we were vegatarian, because if we were not, we should try the BBQ pork, as the restaurant is known for it. We sat back down and had the pork. It was fantastic.
Although the wall-posted menus were in Chinese, the waiter gave us a list that offered choices something like: beef, pork, rice, vegetables, chicken. We ordered the vegys, which were perfectly steamed Chinese broccoli with a sweet thick soy sauce. Delicious. As we prepared to leave, a young couple who were locals approached us and asked if we were vegatarian, because if we were not, we should try the BBQ pork, as the restaurant is known for it. We sat back down and had the pork. It was fantastic.
Pandas!
So cute! Much effort for four minutes of visual joy. The scavenge required taking a bus to Ocean Park, the full blown amusement park where the Pandas are located. The park was thronged with Sunday visitors and outdoor performances. Nice if you want to stroll about. Not nice for us, as our mission was to find the pandas, photo and split. Unfortunately, in arriving by bus, we disembarked at the first entrance to Ocean Park, not realizing that the pandas were on the opposite side of the park. We had to wait a half hour for the shuttle bus. Annoying and hot, but we sat in the shade and took in the people watching - of which there are throngs to choose from! When we finally got to the panda section, I used my height advantage to reach and hover my camera over the 4-deep crowd which was pressed against the glass enclosure. On our dash out of the pavilion, we got a few minutes to view the adorable creatures through a break in the wall of people.
Monday, April 12, 2010
In a Fountain Under a Waterfall in Hong Kong
Hong Kong Park is a refreshing beautiful little oasis in Central Hong Kong. We did two scavenges there. One was to visit the former headquarters of the comander of the British Forces in Hong Kong from 1846. The house is now a tea museum. The other scavenge was to take a photo in a fountain under a waterfall. Hong Kong's steep hilly terrain allows for a dramatic waterfall dropping into the rather small urban park. Although there is a walkway under the waterfall, there is no fountain on the walkway. However, from a vantage point while posing at the bottom of the hilly park, with the waterfall in the background, it could seem that one is "under" the waterfall. We gladly took off our sweaty shoes and stood in a fountain, asking a passing tourist to take our photo in the fountain. We spent a lot of time wandering around the park to get that one, but the reward was a cool foot bath.
The Hong Kong Sunday Ladies
The first morning of the first day in the first country. We begin. We are in Hong Kong, staying in Kowloon (which I, as a Hong Kong newbie, did not know much about). Hong Kong is an island off of mainland China (which I did know); and it is very congested (knew that too). The large hotels are in Kowloon, which is on mainland China, reachable by ferry, train, or taxi. Our first scavenge was to take the Star Ferry from Kowloon to Central Hong Kong and to engage some of the ladies picnicing in the Central area near the Star ferry terminal. That was really interesting. There are thousands of young women seated in groups on the ground, lining the sides of buildings, clustered on grassy spots, and choking the arteries of the underground subway walkways in the area around the station. The ladies are young domestic household help who gather to socialze on their Sunday day off. Most are sitting in groups of five to ten and are eating take out food from styrofoam containers. Many have umbrellas opened around theim, forming a sort of colorful ringed fence around their circle. They sit for hours, talking, eating, playing cards. Many are from Indonesia and the Phillipines. They gather in throngs to enjoy the company of friends on their day off. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday of 75 degrees or so. I think it is a lovely custom. The one thing I thought was a little weird was the ones who chose to spend their sunny Sunday sitting underground on the floor of a dank undergound pedestrian walkway.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Hunt Begins in Hong Kong
For a photo of the group and the official blog from the road, check out the official website. www.globalscavengerhunt.com. Look at the photo and guess who used to play for the Los Angeles Lakers.
The fun begins in one hour. We checked into the hotel in Kowloon after a 13 hour flight from San Francisco. We have time to check in, eat, wash up, and get ready for 11 hours of scavenging. More than half of the group has been here before. My partner Christine is one of them. Good thing because I did not even know that by being in Kowloon, we are not in Hong Kong. We are not allowed to read any guidebooks or maps until the cintest begins. I hope to be a lot smarter twelve hours from now.
The fun begins in one hour. We checked into the hotel in Kowloon after a 13 hour flight from San Francisco. We have time to check in, eat, wash up, and get ready for 11 hours of scavenging. More than half of the group has been here before. My partner Christine is one of them. Good thing because I did not even know that by being in Kowloon, we are not in Hong Kong. We are not allowed to read any guidebooks or maps until the cintest begins. I hope to be a lot smarter twelve hours from now.
Barbara and the Barbadian
Having decided that our team name was lame, we start anew with a new name. We are Barbara and the Barbadian. (My son Gordon came up with the name). There are 7 teams. Besides Barbados and Rhode Island, the travelers come from Texas, Florida, Indiana, Victoria, and Dubai.
My partner Christine and I are on our way to the San Francisco airport. First stop: Hong Kong! We leave at 1:20 PM.
My partner Christine and I are on our way to the San Francisco airport. First stop: Hong Kong! We leave at 1:20 PM.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
"The Fairly Travelled Ladies"
... are off tomorrow to begin our trip around the world. My partner is Christine from Barbados. We will meet up tomorrow night in San Francisco. Between now and then there are zillions of little loose ends to attend to.
We DID choose our team name - " Fairly Travelled Ladies". Max thought it sounded classy. Sally said "huh"? I think it sounds sort of like Bare Naked Ladies. But, I am tired now, so the name might seem really dumb tomorrow.
We DID choose our team name - " Fairly Travelled Ladies". Max thought it sounded classy. Sally said "huh"? I think it sounds sort of like Bare Naked Ladies. But, I am tired now, so the name might seem really dumb tomorrow.
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