December 28, 2012

Surfing in Englischer Garten, Munich

Before I get into my current goings-on here in the Southeastern USA, I have a few more stories to share from my recent European travels. If you won’t mind taking a trip back in time with me, smack-dab in the middle of my East to West, European traverse, after an incredible 8 hour train exodus from Venice into the heart of Bavaria, I arrived in Munchen Hauptbahnhof, one of the most impressive train stations I’ve ever witnessed. A true testament to the renowned German engineering, the station was clean, bright, organized and boasting one of the best food courts for a transportation depot I’ve ever experienced.

After milling around the train station for a while, enjoying the free WiFi (kudos Krauts), I decided to head out into the city and find a place to shack up for the night. I didn’t have to travel far, within 100 yards of the station there were no less than 5 quality hostels to be found. After snooping around a few and checking the rates I settled on the Jager’s Hostel (not sure about the relation to the frat-boy party liquor) and checked myself into your typical 12 bunk, one bathroom, coed backpacker Hilton (I did opt out of the 40 bunk room).

Since the sun was shining and I was running on the adrenaline high that a new location sometimes brings, I set out into the heart of the city to try and see a few sights. My main destination for the day: Englischer Garten. Slightly north of the city center, Englischer Garten, is one of the worlds largest urban public parks, larger than NYC’s Central Park. The name is obviously German for “English Garden”, but this is in reference to the style of informal landscape gardening used throughout the 1.4 square mile park, not, ” bad food, worse weather and Marry Fu@?!&$ Poppins!”. It’s an easy walk to the park from historic Munich, just head north from the Glockenspiel and you will walk through some tight city streets and monuments before emerging into open public park space. It was at this juncture during my walk that the sun disappeared and a chilly rain started to fall. Dressed in shorts, a tee shirt and a thin raincoat, I soon realized that my attire was inadequate for the change in temperature. I tried to stay out of the rain as much as possible, but cover was sparse. I ducked under trees, tunnels and awnings until I reached the park proper. Once inside the park there was little I could do to avoid the precipitation, but the tree canopy at least turned the steady rain into a light sprinkle. Heading through the park from South to North, one of the first areas you encounter is the Japanese Garden, highlighted by a pond surrounding a Japanese style tea house. On this particular day, despite the rainfall, there was a festival taking place. I couldn’t quite make out the specifics of the festival, but from what I could gather it was a type of Japanese heritage event that was mainly attended by German youths in all manner of strange Anime-type dress. Many individuals were dressed as Japanese cartoon characters, both human and animal. Interesting to say the least.

After getting past the festival tents and traveling to the Eastern edge of the park I came upon one of the most popular attractions in Munich, “The Wave”. The small creek that fed the pond in the Japanese garden turned into a steady stream and then into a full blown torrent. Where the artificial river begins, from a culvert under a city bridge, a raised concrete slab creates an artificial wave that surfers from all around Europe come to shred.

Even in the cold rainy weather, there were no less than 20 surfers that day clad in full wetsuits, lined up for their turn to jump on the break. Below is a short video I compiled of the riders that day:

After being mesmerized by the surfers for over 30 minutes the cold became too much for me to handle, I had to find shelter and stop my teeth from chattering. I walked the Eastern edge of the park and I shortly came upon an oasis, a small shack selling food and drink! The shack had no obvious name or signage, but it reminded me of something from Hansel and Gretel.

I stepped inside the small building and bellied up to the counter to order a German specialty: Weisswurst. Literally translating to, “white sausage”, this is a Bavarian specialty that is usually eaten as a snack between breakfast and lunch. Most Bavarians eat their Weisswurst before noon because it is made early in the morning without preservatives and would typically spoil before nightfall. The sausage is made with a combination of veal and pork belly mixed with spices such as parsley, lemon, onions, ginger and cardamom. The sausage is usually served with sweet grainy mustard, alongside a soft salted pretzel. The sausage was light and soft to the taste and a bite with the sweet sticky mustard was a revelation. Since I was breaking the rules and eating my Weisswurts around 4pm, I also opted to add a German Radler to wash it all down. A Radler is a refreshing Bavarian creation of beer mixed with lemonade. I’m usually not the kind of guy to mix fruit in my beer, and I admit I was skeptical before trying it, but this particular blend is on point. Legend has it that it’s creation was a mistake, a sneaky bartender who was low on beer one day, decided to mix lemonade with his remaining brew in order to quench the thirst of the many parched cyclist that approached his tavern. To his surprise, the cyclists came back year after year to have another of these unique beverages and thus the, “Radler” (Cyclist), was born.

After filling my belly and getting as warm as I could, I set my bearing south and began to head back to my hostel. Due to my near-hypothermic state I decided not to explore the north side of the park, but I hear there is a fantastic Bier Garten in that section of the park called the Chinese tower. So if you are in Munich, I suggest that you don’t miss out on the Englischer Garten, it was definitely one of the highlights of my time in the city.

Posted in Germany, Munich, Sightseeing, Sporting, Surfing, Travel, Western Europe
Tagged artificial wave, Bavaria, Chinese tower, Englischer Garten, English Garden, Germany, glockenspiel, Jager's Hostel, Japanese Teahouse, Munchen Hauptbahnhof, Munich, Munich surfing, Radler, Weisswurst, white sausage, Wombat Hostel, Youth Hostel
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September 20, 2012

Venice the Menace

You’ve got to marvel at the engineering of Venice, an entire city built on the water. You also have to hand it to them for their vast city state that lasted over a millennium. But to be honest, present day Venice left me quite unimpressed. Maybe it was the hoards of tourists or perhaps it was the overpriced and lackluster service industry (cover charges at every restaurant?). I have to be honest and say that while Venice is a cool concept it was definitely a disappointment to me. Expensive, crowded and full of stupid people; if I wasn’t annoyed at the fat American tourist family clogging the middle of a tight alley, it’s was the greased up Italian trying way too hard to be bohemian chic. So it is my conviction to not only report on my good experiences, but also my bad ones. Honesty is a policy I have no shame in displaying (as a relatively faceless blogger) especially when a destination is frequently over-hyped. There were still moments of awe in the face of some beautiful canals, or when I got lost enough to find myself alone in a narrow street or miniature piazza, but there was simply not enough good to counterbalance the bad. Before the tirade launches into full force, here are some quintessential Venice photos I took:

To begin with, I should do my duty as a good travel blogger and give some useful info for any first-time visitor to Venice arriving at the airport, which is not in Venice proper but on the mainland. Judging from past history, you may know my unfortunate luck with foreign airports and Venice was no exception; it is crowded, confusing and laden with scam artists. Somehow I wandered my way into the right decisions and made it without incident, so here’s how I did it: First, out of the airport, take a left and walk a couple hundred yards to what appears to be a dock. Bypass the boat taxis advertising for 110 euros, unless you have a big group that can reasonably split the cost (more than 7). Walk to the next ticket stall which is white and blue and buy a 15 euro pass for the public boats. They are the bigger ones with the yellow hulls. The Blue line takes you to most places you want to go in Venice proper and you may have to wait a minute for the boat to come.

Simply deflect or ignore any private boat-taxi driver that may approach you at the docks. While there privately owned speedboat may be a luxurious ride to the island, it’s heinously overpriced and he knows it. Once the public boat arrives, try and get a window seat, it is a beautiful 30 minute ride to the island and even though the windows are smudged and splashed with water, it’s worth trying to take some pics. Pay close attention to the names of the piers as the boat makes its stops, they are not always announced publicly. The good thing is that if you get off on the wrong stop, it’s easy to walk to wherever you need to go, but do expect to get lost frequently in the tight streets of Venice.

The typical first-time visitor to Venice (like myself) is expecting only the romance and flourish of Italian engineering and culture, but as I came to find out those feelings are a bit more short lived that I would have liked. The history and architecture are undeniable, but it’s a lot of the same over and over again. The reality is that you can expect plenty of shopping for overpriced international luxury goods, expensive hotel rooms with little value, average pizza, lots of interestingly bad smells (I am used to this in Charleston), no toilet seats in the bathrooms (weird), boats not obeying the 100ft rule, too many popped collars and frustratingly hard-to-find WiFi that produces only enough signal strength to drive you mad. Well, at least the gelato lived up to expectations.

To avoid the pains of overpriced hotel rooms, I chose to seek out one of the very few hostels in Venice, Hostel Ostello Venezia, which is practically the only one you will find anything about online. It certainly gets my award for grubbiest hostel, and I stayed in my fair share of low-rent establishments in Southeast Asia. Hostel Ostello Venezia is filled with the types of backpackers that they make bad movies out of. The epitome of people that just don’t get what backpacking is all about; novices, whiners, complainers, amateurs and downright idiots, not to mention a good spattering of bed bugs and rats.

Venice is a very photogenic place, but be ready to snap your pictures quickly, your scenic view is typically short lived as you get elbowed to the side so someone behind you can take a group shot. When in Western Europe, more often than not, that elbow belongs to an American tourist, and I’ve come to discover that most American tourists lack patience. They want special treatment, they want the world to behave like their personal Disneyland. I think it’s due to our lack of socialization with other cultures and that when we do go on a typical, “one weak”, vacation we are conditioned to require far too much from a service standpoint. The standard American tourist does not know how to plan and entertain for themselves and this leads to frustration when they aren’t comfortably nestled in an all-inclusive resort. The impatience we show snowballs and we become divas, basking in our own impertinence and throwing outright temper tantrums, largely due to our own inability to handle the daily life of cultures other than our own. These effects are compounded when in a country that prefers to not speak English, in which case Americans like to do what I call: speaking forceful English. That is, insisting on speaking English first and foremost, and if the recipient dosent understand, you proceed to repeat yourself louder and more condescendingly. This strategy does not work, just so you know. When I travel, I’m always surprised how people can instantly tell I am an English speaker. I feel like I dress inconspicuously enough and I don’t go around broadcasting my Anglo-ness. However a stranger on the street in a foreign land will approach me directly out of a crowd and begin asking me questions in English. This happens with both foreigners and fellow English speaking travelers in my experience.
Ok, I realize I am being quite the Negatron here and it’s generally not my style to go on such rants, so, to make us all feel better I can tell you about one great experience I had while in Venice. After a long hard day of walking (getting lost) around the city, I was determined to have a nice dinner. After a bit of window shopping I settled on a nice local looking place with a quiet courtyard. I arrived around 7 and I was one of the few patrons in the restaurant at that time. I was in no mood to make further decision, so I requested that the waiter bring me his suggestion for dinner and drink. I shouldn’t be surprised that i was served a traditional spaghetti with a deliciously crisp white wine, capped off with a traditional Italian Tiramisu. As dusk faded into night and the stars came out, so did the town. As per Mediterranean dining form, the restaurant doors blew open at 8pm and the locals started flooding in. By the end of my dinner the entire restaurant was a madhouse of sprinting waiters and reveling guests. The experience left me with a fully belly and a much better feeling. Wobbly from the wine, I boarded a night boat and enjoyed the long cruise along black canals back to my hostel.

It’s always the greatest feeling when you escape somewhere that you don’t like or are tired of. A renewed energy lifts you up and gets you even more psyched about the next destination.
For me it started on the train ride out of town. As soon as I booked a ticket north to Munich the good vibes started flowing. Before leaving, I found a nice quiet cafe with serviceable wifi and panna cotta (perhaps my favorite desert). I then caught a train car with 2 awesome Swedish dudes and we chatted agreeably about politics, police and travel plans. As the train progressed northward through the mountains of northern Italy I found myself incapable of keeping the conversation moving, my attention was more than divided by the picturesque scenery outside the train car. My eyes were glued to the peaks and valleys, a castle here, a vineyard there. The entertainment was non-stop and breathtaking. I began to notice the red tiled Italian roofs changing to the distinctive brown thatch and decorative wood carving of the Bavarian countryside and the vineyards shift to vines of hops. The travel adrenaline was in full force, I was headed to the land of beer, brats and busty tavern wenches. The bitter taste of Venice was overpowered by the malty and meaty deliciousness of Germany.

Posted in Italy, Rants, Travel, Venice, Western Europe
Tagged boat-taxi, Canals, Guidecca, Hostel Ostello, Hostel Ostello Venezia, Italy, Mediterranean, Piazza, San Marco, Spaghetti, Venezia, Venice, Venice Airport, Venice Airport Transit
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August 25, 2012

Croatia Divers

A good chunk of my stay in Croatia included a weeklong trip to Korcula (core-chew-la), a small island just south of Split in the Adriatic Sea. In Korcula is Vela Luka, a small harbor town on the western end of the island. With a population of just over 4,000 Croats, Vela Luka is the second largest place in the Adriatic Islands. I journeyed to this small town in order to fulfill a “bucket list” experience – diving in the Mediterranean.

Getting There: I took the Jadrolinja ferry service from Split to Vela Luka for a surprisingly low cost of around $11 (70 Croatian Kuna). Having come from using Thailand’s ferry services rather extensively, stepping into a Jadrolinja ferry ship was the lap of luxury. Upon entering the great hull of the vessel (used for car transport) you take an escalator up to the passenger deck…that’s right, an escalator, stairs are for losers. Once on the passenger level one can choose from a variety of seating options inside the carpeted, teak-wood, air-conditioned interior. There are leather booths, group tables and even massage chairs. There are also several restroom options and a copious snack bar where I ordered 3 too many espressos during the 3 hour voyage. If you’d like to take in the views from outside the air-conditioned comfort there is also a multi-leveled outside viewing/seating deck with shaded areas and picnic tables where you can take in the spectacular island scenery as you cruise by.

Checking In: The Jadrolinja ferry pulled into Vela Luka harbor right on schedule. The next task was to get across the harbor to my destination, Croatia Divers. As I walked along the bay, I encountered the “water taxi”. For 5 Kuna, the water taxi took me and several other travelers across the bay, which was a superior alternative to walking the entire circumference of the bay in the early morning heat. The aquatic taxi dumped us off at its only stop, the Posejdon Hotel and I fixed my gaze on the sign adjacent to the hotel for Croatia Divers. Upon approach it seemed the early morning divers were just getting back in and use of the word Hectic would be an understatement. I walked in the open garage bay door to what appeared to be a counter. People in half stripped wet-suits were buzzing around carrying boxes of gear and rolling carts of oxygen tanks. After standing conspicuously in the middle of this mess for a few minutes, someone finally took note of my existence. Hard to tell of that someone was an employee or client of Croatia Divers seeing as how everyone is either half naked or wearing a salt stained tshirt. My greeter turned out to be Billy, brother of the owner and the general manager of activities during the day. Billy got my info, checked my diving credentials and informed me that since the Posjedon hotel had run out of rooms, I would be put up in a studio apartment one street off the bay. What Billy lacked in hosting ability he certainly made up for with efficiency and a humorous grin. Next on the agenda was getting my equipment. The only piece of diving equipment I carry with my while traveling is my own mask and snorkel as this is commonly the most frustrating (and defective) piece to borrow and its also easy to pack. This means, however, that I do need the rest; regulator, BCD, tank, fins and wetsuit. The only surprise here was getting fitted for a full 5mm wetsuit with hood and booties, which did not give good indication that the water would be warm, contrary to the 90 degree heat of the air.

Staying There: After the rigors of getting checked in and fitted for diving, the studio apartment was a pleasant surprise. Situated on the second level of a local home, the room had air-con, kitchenette and a sizable balcony overlooking the bay. After talking with some of the divers staying in the Posjedon hotel, the private apartment was a much preferred option. Since the only drawback was no easily accessible food option (rook service didn’t extend across the street unfortunately) the next task was to do a little grocery shopping. Another 5 Kuna water-taxi ride and I was back to the busy side of town and easily found several options for groceries. The combination of some local produce stands and a Konsum market proved sufficent for my culinary needs, the only negative being that i couldnt find any eggs…my search for a high-protien breakfast in central europe continues. Since my first dives started early the next morning, I spent the rest of my afternoon relaxing, writing and reading on my porch as the sun set.

Diving There: 7:30am, out front of the Croatia Divers HQ, the sun is already beating down on me and my new dive group; 2 Swedish, 2 Finnish and myself (much smaller groups than in Thailand). The Croatia Divers staff seems busy enough, buzzing around stacking gear and wiggling into wetsuits. The whole scene is a bit of an unorganized mess and I start to get the feeling that this is the norm for international diving operations. I begin to organize my own gear into staging and ensure its all working properly (much of the rented gear from CD is well worn). I experienced one of the regulator hoses explode as a Swedish dive partner turned on her air pressure, it nearly took my eardrum with it, luckliy this is why we check our gear before getting out on the water. After another hour and a half of delays, we were loaded into a rubber raft boat and shot off across the bay to begin a busy day of diving.

The water was a revelation, crystal clear, some of the most incredible visibility I could imagine underwater. If only there was any sea life to see! Despite its awesome visibly and unique underwater geography, the Mediterranean surrounding Croatia is relatively devoid of much life. I did encounter a spattering of fish, mostly smaller than my hand, a few lobsters and a few Octopi. The Octopus was probably the most interesting sea creature to encounter, I would find them hiding in the seabed with only their bulbous heads sticking out. After poking at this protrusion, the Octopus would pop out, squirt some ink and elegantly float away. Perhaps the coolest aspect of diving in Croatia was the underwater geography. There are numerous caves, cliffs and overhangs of rock that really give the diver a sensation of flying. Nothing like coming over a ledge drop-off to look down into a clear blue abyss. Another surprise (to me at least) was the temperature of the water. I mentioned getting fitted for a 5mm wetsuit with all the trimmings, but when I first jumped in, the water on the surface was as warm as the air. Even through my first dive of up to 18 meters the temperature didn’t change all that much and I found myself suffocatingly hot. It wasn’t until my second dive of the day did I realize the necessity. 20 meters and below you reach a thermocline that drops the temperature of the water dramatically. It goes from bath water warm to ice cold immediately. It created an interesting spa-like sensation when you are floating over rock formations, dipping into and out of the temperature change and having your body freeze and thaw repeatedly. During one of my dives I was able to tag along on an extra deep dive of 40 meters (I’m only certified to 30m), after spending 20 minutes at 38 meters, I was frozen solid, but it was an incredible feeling to rise back to the warm water and sun above…or maybe I was just slightly Narced.
I got to dive in a variety of locations, such as St. Ivans, Papillion and the Saddle, but there were several dive sites (mainly the caves) that I had researched beforehand and yearned to visit. Unfortunately dive sites have to cooperate with the weather and just like my time diving in Thailand, Croatia also experienced some unusual winds and stormy seas. I tried to inquire (politely) about extending my diving experience with Croatia Divers, if I was able to visit a few of these aforementioned sites. Billy beat around the bush for quite a bit, but ultimately I came to understand that the chances were slim to none, because of the weather history. I appreciate that no false promises were given, but he could have been more direct about it.
All in all, my experience with Croatia Divers was a good one. Despite what some people may have written on sites like TripAdvisor, I found the staff to be kind and welcoming. In fact, almost every night of my stay in Vela Luka I shared either a meal or drinks with members of the staff. The equipment was well worn, but also well loved, of course you are welcome to bring your own. As for their knowledge of diving and instruction, I didn’t find a shortage. Each of my instructors (I worked with almost all of them) gave me the essential rundown and answered any technical or naturalistic questions I asked. The instructors also provided me with a great deal of autonomy, from my equipment to my dives, which was great for me as I learn better by experience. It’s always a pain to have dive instructors looking over your shoulder and scrutinizing your every move. The price was indeed negotiable and I felt I got a good deal, including a great place to stay for the week. I did my negotiating online through email with Marjolein, one of the owners. I highly recommend this method, emailing and requesting a package deal. I would totally reccomned diving the Med to any avid diver, despite its lack of sea life and its chilly depths, it’s an awesome experience to behold. As for Croatia Divers, it’s a mixed bag, I enjoyed my situation, but I can understand a beginner having a rough go of it. If you are an advanced diver with a good attitude, you will have no issues, only a great time.

Eating There: When I wasn’t living it up with my dive team, I spent my evenings walking the tight tiered streets, lined with white stone houses filled with local Croats having dinner on their porches, talking and laughing. It was really a unique experience to see the island life played out in a small town. Locals living off the land or the sea and having their family vacations together just as we do back home. I was lucky enough to befriend the dive boat operator, a Vela Luka native named Bruno. Bruno enthusiastically showed me around the small town in exchange for workout tips (he was an aspiring fitness guru). Bruno introduced me to numerous residents and the local club scene (3 bars). I also have him to thank for one of the most satisfying meals of my life. When you wake up at 5am to get ready for a morning dive, a wholesome breakfast is generally pushed asunder, and after a rigorous day of hauling equipment, sucking canned air and baking in the sun, I can assure you that you will want to eat your weight in calories. After a few days of near collapse from starvation as I searched for a lunch big enough to quench my ravenous appetite, Bruno directed me to an innocuous looking cafe (aka someones house) filled with locals only. Once seated, the waitress didn’t hand me a menu or ask me what I wanted, the food just started coming out. First: A gigantic bowl of soup, literally a serving for a family in a huge salad bowl. It was mainly broth, but lurking at the bottom were deliciously al-dente spaghetti noodles. After polishing off the soup, I was the served the customary liter of Karlovacko along side a big bowl of sliced cabbage in vinegar (same as cole slaw) and a plate of tenderized pork chop with mashed potatoes slathered in gravy. To top it all off, the entire meal (including beer) was only 40 Kuna ($7). This meal definitely makes my top 10 all time.

I’ll say it again: forget Italy, head straight to Croatia.

Posted in Central Europe, Croatia, Diving, Food, Sporting, Travel, Vela Luka
Tagged Adriatic Sea, Croatia, Croatia Divers, Croats, Diving Croatia, Hrvatska, Jadrolinja, Karlovacko, Korcula, Kuna, Mediterranean, Mediterranean Octopus, Narced, Papillion, Posjedon Hotel, Split, St. Ivan's, Vela Luka
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July 17, 2012

Train Troubles

I think everyone has that one city that only seems to deal them negative vibes, mine is Katowice. Close to the border with Czech Republic, Katowice is a Polish industrial town and the likely connection stop for any train transport headed through the western border. Being that it is such a hub, you would think they must have a pretty nice station right? Negative Ghostwriter. As I may have mentioned in my last post, Katowice train station is the pits. Confusing, dirty and full of unpleasant shady people, if you find yourself changing trains there, beware.

As I was making my way to Krakow, my nifty EuroCity train came to a halt in Katowice. From there I knew I had to purchase a connecting ticket for the 2 hour remainder of my journey. Sauntering up to the ticket counter I gave my best travelers smile and asked for a ticket to Krakow. In response to my request I received a cold blank stare. I slowly started to repeat myself but before I could finish the attendant was railing off some Polish, printing a ticket and requesting a sum of money. Of course she wouldn’t be bothered to tell me the train number, time of departure or platform, I was summarily shooed off so she could assist the next person in line. Using the sparse information printed on the ticket (most fields were left blank), I consulted the Arrivals/Departures chart and tried to make sense of the mess. Ultimately I went with my instincts and choose the platform I felt was correct in my gut, I’d been lucky so far. Boarding a much older train than the EuroCity (we’re talking 70s era) and taking an unassigned seat in a musty traditional 4 person train cabin, I settled in for what should be the final 2 hour leg. After about an hour, an attendant came by to punch my stub and the suprise in his face said it all, I had obviously gotten on the wrong train. He didn’t speak English, but his hand gestures indicating I was heading the opposite direction of Krakow told me all I needed to know. I gathered from his broken English that at the next stop I would be switching trains, obviously. What I didn’t realize was how quickly that next train would be departing the station. Slowing down for the next station and before the train had come to a complete stop, I was bring urged out the door by the attendant, frantically pointing and trying to express that I needed to get over to the train 2 platforms away. The quickest suggested method; literally jumping 4 feet down into the greasy train tracks and clambering over metal and concrete with my bag slung over my shoulder… 10 heart-pounding seconds later I made it into the other train just as the car was lurching forward. Relieved to have made it, but frustrated by my mistake, I found a seat and prepared for what would now be a 4 hour trip instead of 2 hours.
6 days later when it came time to leave Krakow, I was headed this time to see a friend in Ostrava, Czech Republic. A shorter journey than before, I approached the ticket counter brimming with confidence, but there it was again, an ominous connection in Katowice. Since there was no direct train with Ostrava, I had to book a ticket to Katowice and hope that I could get my ticket to Ostrava from there. A decent train and a fairly smooth ride to Katowice, so far so good. Once I reached Katowice I again approached the sour old crone in the ticket booth, this time she had pleasure of informing me that the only train departing for Ostrava would be at 11:57pm. At the time it was around 1:00pm. Since I was already there and had no other apparent option (Katowice is apparently technologically isolated as well, so no WiFi) I bought the ticket. Ostrava was literally only 2 hours away, but I wasn’t about to start hitchhiking. So now I had about 12 hours to waste in a small Polish town with no Internet and hardly any English, oh well, Ive had worse layovers in airports. I spent a few hours walking around the area to try a little sightseeing. Once my shoulders were sufficiently aching from the weight of my pack I stopped that nonsense and took a seat on a bench in a quaint little city park.

There I ended up staying for a good portion of my day, reading and people watching. It’s always interesting to watch people in a foreign country just going about thier business. There were moments I felt as if I was back in the States, but then a passing gypsy or doner kebap vendor would remind me I was still far from home. Needless to say, I got pretty darn bored by the end of that day and as day faded into night I sought refuge in a nearby restaurant. The one positive of the purgatory that was Katowice was that restaurant. I was the only customer and they didn’t serve beer (which at this point I really wanted) but I had the most incredible Polish pancakes stuffed with ham, strong cheese and mushrooms. They looked like burritos but they were far from it.

Finally, the witching hour had arrived and I boarded my midnight train to Ostrava. It was supposed to be only a 2 hour ride, putting me at my destination around 2am, just enough time to meet my friend Chris for some post-bar late night food. However, Katowice still wasn’t done messing with me. At around 1am I was waging war against the pull of sleep. I couldn’t afford to doze off and miss my stop in Ostrava. I tried music, reading and finally resorted to standing up in the train car. Coming down the home stretch I was starting to lose the battle with the sandman, then we came to an abrupt stop. I looked out the window to confirm that we were not yet in Ostrava and indeed, we were only in a dark train stop somewhere in the outskirts of town. We were stopped 10 minutes, then 20, then 40. When the delay mounted to 2 hours my curious confusion turned to outward rage, but I was too sleepy to do anything about it. Besides, there was literally no one around to ask, or punch. I surmise that this stop was in order to switch tracks and split the train, but an announcement confirming that would have been nice. 4am came around and finally I felt the forward movement of the train. From that moment it was only about 15 minutes to the final stop at Ostrava Hln. I could have walked…oh well, the sun was rising and I hadn’t slept in close to 24 hours. I was simply looking forward to laying down my pack and getting some rest. Hopefully I’ve seen the last of Katowice, but I get the feeling it’s going to be like a bad penny, considering I will be traveling back toward Poland in a few weeks…

Posted in Central Europe, Poland, Rants, Travel
Tagged Czech Republic, EuroCity, Katowice, Krakow, Ostrava, Poland, Rants, Train Travel, Trains, travel
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July 15, 2012

Krakow

Whilst thoroughly enjoying myself in Prague, I got an invitation from my buddy Jon to visit him in Krakow, Poland. Jon informed me that he would be heading back to the USA in less than 4 days so since I wasn’t doing anything THAT important, I simply told him to expect me in Krakow that evening. The journey to Krakow started at Praha Hlavni Nadrazi (or just Prague Hln. train station), aboard a sleek EuroCity train. The EuroCity train was in stark contrast to the trains I’ve been riding in Asia. Smooth, fast (200mph) and comfortable, it was certainly the nicest train I’ve ever been on and upped the ante on my concept of public transportation worldwide. All the trains were impeccably clean, on-time and stops were announced clearly in a variety of languages. It was quite the luxurious 6 hour ride, the only hiccup happened when I crossed the border into Poland and stopped in Katowice for a train transfer. Katowice train station ranks very low in my list of transport depots, even compared to third world Asian countries. It’s confusing, dirty and full of unpleasant people. The attendants were rude and uncaring and it was glaringly apparent they hated their jobs more than the guy who cleans the portable toilets. Due to their inability to assist me, I relied on Polish arrival/departure lists (essentially my own intuition) to determine my next train platform. Needless to say, there was some confusion, but I’ll be elaborating on that in my next post.
When I finally arrived in Krakow, it was 2.5 hours later than I had told Jon. Unfortunately I had no way of updating him to my situation, since getting WiFi on the train was not possible. Luckily, the train station, Dworzec Glowny Krakow, empties into the giant Galeria Krakowska shopping mall where there was poor but serviceable WiFi. I messaged Jon and waited outside in the cool (frankly, COLD) night air for his arrival.
Reunited at last and both relived that i had finally made it, Jon and I set out for a celebratory beer and some renowned Polish food. After having my first half liter of Zywiec and exploring some nightlight, it was too late to find a suitable hotel or hostel for me that night, therefore Jon and I decided it would be a good idea for me to sneak into his dorm residence for the evening. This involved scaling a 10 foot stone wall, capped with broken glass to deter would-be intruders like myself, then shimmying 20 yards on top of the wall in order to drop down 2 levels into the courtyard of Jon’s place. All the while dong this in stealth mode to avoid security cameras. Mission-possible. Aside from a scraped palm i made it in no worse for wear and felt like a total badass. It wasn’t until the next morning when I was walking out the front door, that the security guard stopped me and asked for payment for the night that I had just stayed. Busted, epic fail. Luckily it was only 10 zloty for the night, gotta love student dorms. In fact, it inspired me to extend my stay there in lieu of finding another hotel. In my quest to experience as many different living situations during my travels, I certainly got the student experience in Krakow. For a week, my accommodations were the dorms in the middle of the city, just outside of the Old Town Krakow. I was back at UNC, sharing spartan quarters with a roommate and rubbing elbows with other students in the hallway and elevator.
Aside from the cool residence and getting to hang with my good fried Jon once again, there were 2 standout highlights in Krakow: the food and the EuroCup. The food speaks for itself, I believe Pierogies and sausage are world famous, but I sort of stumbled into the Euro Cup situation. Like any good soccer fan, I had been watching the games and following the action of the tournament, since I was in Asia, but chance would have it that I would end up in two of the host cities during the time of the games. Actually going to a game would have been incredible, but tickets were near impossible to come by so I was happy to settle for watching the games with the locals and fans in the authentic atmosphere. On game night, Krakow sported banners and tents galore, so we grabbed a seat on one of the beer hall benches in the main tent for this weeks round of games, most notably, the quarterfinal PK shootout game between Italy and England. There were tons of fans from each team inside the tent and only a spattering of local Poles and neutrals like me. The game was a tense match and despite the free flowing Zywiec, the atmosphere was amicable even in the end. Here is a quick video of Rooney’s PK make, just before the deciding miss by Ashley Young.

As for the food: after the hearty dishes of Prague, I wasn’t sure how much more my stomach could take, that is untill that first steamy plate of Pierogies was set in front of me. Jon had found the perfect spot: simple Pierogies, boiled, not fried, served by the dozen, for less than $5. Any number of delicious fillings were possible, shredded meat, broccoli, cabbage, potato, cheese, fruit or any combination. I enjoyed the traditional “ruskie” style of cabbage, potato and cheese more often than not.

Polish cusine also relies heavily on soups. Soup is supposed to be eaten with every meal and the Poles traditionally believe that soup is the cure-all for health. Got a cold? There’s a soup for that. Got digestive problems? There’s a soup for that. Got performance issues? There’s probably a soup for that too. I had many differnt soups while visiting, but my favorite was traditional Zurek soup, a sour broth with boiled egg and sausage.

There was also, beet soup, mushroom soup and their own version of chicken noodle soup. To my excitement and the dismay of my emerging belly, pancakes are also a staple of the Polish diet. Potato pancakes (Palcki) with onion and mushroom gravy as well as thin nalesniki pancakes stuffed with sweet or savory fillings.

Probably the coup de grace of my culinary adventure in Poland was when Jon took me to a Polish buffet. You simply load your large plate up with all manner of delicious looking cabbage, dumplings, sausages and potatoes and they weigh it at then end. A feast of epic proportions for dirt cheap.

Of course there were some sights to see around Krakow after my bloated stomach stopped swelling. Jon took me on a thorough tour of the historic Krakow Old Town and the Wawel Castle hill.

The fortified entrance to the Old Town area. Old Town is surrounded by a large castle wall and encircled by a thin strip of green city park. Once you enter the gates you are confronted by tourists and typical tourist shops, but there are many hidden gems in between the cheap souvenir peddlers.

St. Mary’s church, a beautiful gothic structure in the middle of the Old Town Market Square.

Locals playing in the public water fountain in the Market Square on a warm day.

Walking up the hill to the Wawel Castle, the seat of ancient Polish kings and legend has it, the home to a dragon, slain by mythical King Krak. The Wawel was impressive, hosting a variety of domed churches and the remains of the original structure. Of course, there are numerous statues to honor the JP, the most recent Polish Pope. Poland is staunchly Catholic.

Krakow at night. The actual market building of the Market Square and a statue commemorating Polish victory outside of the city center.
My final days and nights in Poland were capped off with a rainy day trip to the mountains of Zakopane, a ski destination during the winter months and during the summer it is supposedly a great place for hiking, biking and hangliding. The weather kept us from actually doing any of these great activities, but we still managed to take the funicular up the mountain and the clouds gave way for a few good pictures. In a strange but familiar way, the vibe of Zakopane kind of reminded me of Maggie Valley, NC, or even Gatlinburg, TN. Lost of local hillbilly flair evidenced by the foods and crafts being peddled by locals.

Lastly there was an interesting night spent in the dorm trying to open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew.

It can be done people. Jon was relentless in his efforts and aided by YouTube we tried the shoe method as well as the pounding method, but ended up getting the cork out only halfway before deciding that we better not wake up the whole dorm with loud thumping sounds. So we resorted to the, “gouging with knife”, method. Our persistence was rewarded as we filled makeshift wine glasses and toasted to our time in Poland.

Posted in Central Europe, Food, Krakow, Poland, Sightseeing, Travel
Tagged Dworzec Glowny Krakow, EuroCity, EuroCup, Galeria Krakowska, Hlavni Nadrazi, Katowice, Krakow, Nalesniki, Palcki, Pierogies, Poland, Rooney, Ruskie, St. Mary's, Wawel, Zakopane, Zurek, Zywiec
6 Comments

July 11, 2012

Czeching into Prague

Still hazy from my late night and early morning in Kiev, my plane touched down in Prague around 8:00am local time. The weather was stupendous and the airport much cleaner and more organized than in Kiev, there was even free WiFi for crying out loud. Taking much less time to compose myself and acclimate to my situation than my experience the previous day, I took a seat and allowed Google to educate me on the best way into the city. I quickly realized that it is incredibly easy to get around in this town. The buses, trams, subway and train all operate on the same universal ticket which you simply purchase for the amount of time you need (15 minutes-1 week). The electric buses ran right up to the baggage claim so I stepped out the double-doors and hopped on the #100 bus. I purchased a 15 min ticket to take me to the subway station at the end of the line, Zlicin (the airport is still quite a ways out of town). Upon arrival to the Zlicin subway station, it appeared that you could simply walk down and hop on the train, no gates, ticket stalls or security attendants. However, me being a good world citizen, I still proceeded to go to the nearest ticket kiosk and purchased a 30 minute pass so that I could get into downtown with time for mistakes. I would later find out that all Czech public transportation runs on the Honor System, a trusting bunch these Czechs are, which surprises me based on their history of being taken advantage of politically. Once on the train I popped in the earbuds and jammed out to my latest playlist until my train stop showed in glowing LED letters above the door. Out and up I went to surface in New Town, Prague.
It only took me a short walk to find my hotel, I was staying on the south end of New Town, in the Vysehrad area. Since I had just capped off 15 hours of travel, punctuated only by a short night in a Kiev hostel, I decided to spoil myself for some R&R at The King Charles Boutique Hotel (still only $40 a night).

Once I was, “Czech-ed”, into my hotel my next goal was to find sustenance. Upon a brief investigation of the establishments in my surrounding area, I thankfully found that Prague had all the things I had been missing in Asia: hearty meat dishes, good beer and gravy, ohhhh lord the delicious gravy. Czechs eat their largest meal at lunch and lucky for me it was about 1pm. I had a heaping plate of dumplings filled with chopped pork, smothered in onions and sauerkraut, along with half a liter of Budvar (the original Budweiser). It goes without saying that I ate myself sick. I like to think it was a situation similar to when someone is lost in the wilderness, facing starvation for a time, and you have to ease them back into normal eating habits or they eat themselves to death. Yeah…that’s it, except my wilderness was filled with rice and mangled bits of chicken. So I guess the 160 pound frame and svelt six pack I sculpted over the past 2 months is now going to waste, but I couldn’t care less this was comfort food to the max. Besides ruining my physique, the change of cuisine did wreak havoc on my GI system as well. I usually consider my tummy to be as durable as a leather saddle bag, but the instant transition from Asian food to heavy central European was a little intense even for me. I still enjoyed every kraut drenched dumpling I shoved down my gullet despite the frequent post-meal WC sessions.

After eating and recovering from the subsequent food coma, I decided it was time for a sightseeing walkabout. Walking only 100 feet down the road and tripping at least a half a dozen times I came to the following realization: Prague is a rollerbladers nightmare. To all you ladies out there, if considering a trip to Prague, don’t even think about packing heels, instead you should consider ankle braces. Almost every street is cobblestone; from large protruding blocks to carefully lain tiles, you are in constant danger of rolling an ankle. The good news is that it keeps those rascally skateboarders off the streets. My second home of Charleston SC is known around the southeast for its “romantic” cobblestone streets, but the roughly 100 meters of cobblestone in Chuck pales in comparison to the miles and miles of toe snagging goodness in Prague. Its also worth noting that in Prague you can get fined for jaywalking and cars appear to have no concern for pedestrians, so mind the tick-ticking of the crosswalks. So while Prague is a very walkable city, please walk at your own risk. As I continued, much more conscious of my footing, I was reminded that i’m a great big nerd about some things and Prague certainly brings out two of those: architecture and beer (blame college for both). As you walk around the city there are towers, statues, spires and friezes everywhere. You obsessively want to take pictures of everything (much like Angkor in Cambodia), but you know that will only lead to a laboring photo upload session later as well as killing your memory card. So I tried my best to hold that itchy trigger finger and try to let my brain just soak in the visual magnificence. A stunning mixture of Gothic, Baroque, Renaissance and Art Nouveau surprises you on every corner. There is even a spattering of the short-lived, “Cubist”, architecture inspired by Pablo Picasso.

Prague is truly blessed to have largely avoided the destruction of the World Wars, everything is so well preserved. Having visited several other European cities, I can honestly say I have never seen a more amazing and unpredictable mixture of architecture that melds together so beautifully. I was in constant danger of breaking my nose on lampposts as I walked around the city with my eyes drawn upward. Its no wonder why Prague is the 6th most visited European city, my only question is why isn’t it the first? Below are a few of the highlights of my first day walkabout:

Just behind my hotel was the Vysehrad castle, supposedly the location of the first settlement that later became Prague. Built in the 10th century, many of the original fortress walls still stand. The view above is from one such battlement. Situated within the castle walls is the Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul, a great example of neo-Gothic.

The, “Dancing House”, one of the more extreme examples of modern architecture (Deconstructivist to be exact) in Prague. This building was built on top of one of the few sites that was destroyed in WWII bombing. A collaboration between, Canadian-American and Croatian-Czech architects, the building is supposed to resemble a pair of dancers (Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers).

The National Theatre, amazing neo-classical, with larger than life statues surrounding the golden roof.

A view across the Vltava river of the famous Charles Bridge, Petrin hill and Prague Hrad (castle).

Shots from Charles Bridge. The bridge is lined with statues and various street vendors catering to the tourists, everything from musical performers to caricatures. At each end of the bridge is a dominating gate tower.

After crossing the Charles bridge on your way to Prague Castle, you must first climb the hill. As steep and exhausting it may be, the panoramic views of the city are worth the ascent. From the walls of the castle you see rooftop after rooftop of Baroque red tile roofs.

From the castle vantage point (and with a long range zoom) you can capture almost every major landmark in Prague, including the infamous Zizkov television tower. Built by the Russian commies during the Cold War era, it was originally considered an eye-sore and a bad memory of the communist occupation, however it appears to have grown on the locals and it serves as a great tourist attraction for more panoramic views of the city. It now sports several statues of crawling babies which you can barely see in the photo.

Once inside the castle, after entering through the overly violent front gate, you are confronted by the towering gothic, St. Vitus Cathedral, the most important church in all of Czech Republic. This church houses the remains of Bohemian Kings and Holy Roman Emperors.

Back across the river and into the heart of Old Town, there is the famous Astronomical clock. Installed in 1410, it is the third oldest astronomical clock in the world and the oldest one that is still working.

This is the statue to commemorate famed Prague resident Franz Kafka. In the square surrounding the astronomical clock there is a cafe where Kafka and Einstein used to have coffee together. Kafka once famously quoted, “Prague never let’s you go…this dear little mother has sharp claws”. I can relate, ever since I’ve visited I want to go back.

Wenceslaus Square, the hub of shopping and party going tourists in Old Town Prague. Later in my visit to Prague I stayed in a nice Hostel overlooking the square.

Various artistic statues, with penises included. Some artists prefer to leave the male anatomy off or cover it with a fig leaf, it is apparent that the Czechs feel no such shame about the twig and berries. The statue of the boy was placed in front of a children’s museum and included a shining golden rod.

As for the Beer, or as the Czechs call it, Pivo, it is not served by the pint but by the liter. Half liter of the freshest pilsner being most common. On average, I was consuming 2-3 liters of beer a day (its recommended that you consume 1.9 liters of water a day), not because I wanted to be drunk, but because this beer was so incredibly fresh and refreshing and cheap that it was far superior to the conventional water. Being a homebrewer myself (and trying to reason my consumption), I can tell you that beer is mostly water anyway.

There is no sour or bitter taste, not even a lingering hint of alcoholic tang on your palette, unlike so many so called pilsner beers in the states. You can literally chug this stuff like mineral water, which I did, on the reg, anytime I was parched from walking around the city or needing to wash down some savory meat and dumplings. Which reminds me, it’s time for dinner! Aside from swilling their world famous Pilsner, every traveler to Czech Republic must also have the goulash. Obviously this was my go-to option for my very first dinner in Prague. Goulash differs in most European countries, the Czechs prefer theirs with slow cooked beef covered in a brown gravy with sliced raw onion and accompanied by a heavy dose of dumplings. The beef is tender, the gravy is savory and the dumplings are like a doughy half-cooked sliced bread.

After dinner my eyelids were heavy and my feet were sore, so made my way back to the King Charles Hotel for some much needed rest. Since Prague sits roughly on the same latitude as northern Canada, the sun refused to set until close to 10pm (and it rises around 4am), but my travel weary body was ready to hit the cushy comforts of a European bed before the sky had even darkened. As my head hit the pillow and drifted into semiconsciousness I dreamily recounted my first day in central Europe: a favorable currency, a clean city, great weather, scrumptious food, and stunning sights. I believe I fell asleep with an insatiable urge to shave the sides of my head, buy some loose fitting Capri pants and put on an extra extra small t-shirt in the attempt to make myself a local.

Posted in Central Europe, Czech Republic, Food, Prague, Sightseeing, Travel
Tagged Architecture, Astronomical Clock, Central Europe, Cobblestone, Cubism, Cubist Architecture, Czech Republic, Dancing House, Deconstructivist, Europe, Franz Kafka statue, Goulash, King Charles Boutique Hotel, neo-gothic, New Town Prague, Old Town Prague, Petrin Hill, Pivo, Prague, Prague Castle. Charles Bridge, Staropramen, Vysehrad, Zizkov tower, Zlicin
5 Comments

July 7, 2012

Layover in Kiev

So my journey westward to Central Europe finally begins, but not before a brief, 19 hour layover, in Kiev. I suppose thats what I get for booking the cheapest available flight with a Ukrainian airline I’ve never heard of (Aerosvit). Turns out that the layover became quite the travel experience in itself, below is an account that will hopefully help one of you out one day, should you find yourself in a similar situation.

Unsteadily stepping out onto the sun drenched tarmac of Kiev airport after 11 hours of flying, I was greeted by a welcoming cool breeze and delightful lack of humidity. In direct sunlight it was still hot as balls, but Bangkok it was not. The flight crew herded the other passengers and I into the terminal and within two minutes of wandering around looking for a way out I realized: I am totally unprepared for this country. Cryillic words everywhere, not a single sign in English and no hope for a WiFi connection. Culture shock much? I stumbled around the airport aimlessly for at least 30 minutes hoping for inspiration to hit me. I managed to find an ATM and withdraw a couple hundred Ukrainian Hryvnia (8:1 USD), then I found myself walking outside toward the parking lot. I instinctively spurn the pushy cab drivers and recall I had read somewhere that the bus is the best way into town. Scanning the area, I spot some buses and head in their general direction. Once I reach the buses I realize that none of them have readable destination signs in English and there are no translators around to tell me where they are going. After sitting on a bench and gathering my thoughts for a few long minutes, I get up the courage to simply step inside one of these motor-coaches and see where it takes me. Even though I have no idea where the bus is going, my instincts tell me that it will ultimately lead me into town and if not, heck, I’ve got to waste 19 hours somehow.
25 Hryvnia and a 50 minute sweltering bus ride later, I find myself dropped off at the main train station (to my relief, in the middle of the city). “Sorted”, I briefly celebrated, I’m pretty good with trains. Come to find out, not so much in the Ukraine. The train maps were unintelligible and the, “help”, doesn’t speak English. Another dead end. I plop down in the only oasis I can find, a McDonalds, and I am relieved to find that free WiFi is available, my savior has come at last! After putting Google Maps to the test, I realize that I am not too far from the city center, a walkable distance by my estimation. I load up my 60lbs pack once again and start my trek towards what I hope will be a cold shower and a soft bed.

Huffing it through the city with a heavy pack turned out to be a sweaty endeavor. Even though Kiev was much less humid than Thailand it was much more hilly and the mid-afternoon sun just has steamy. With every inch of my clothing sticking to me and my shoulders aching from the elephant on my back I finally arrive to a very busy main drag, Kreshchatyk St.. The street is flooded with people, beer stalls and police, “but it’s 2pm, don’t these people have jobs to do?”, I thought. It was then I realized that today was the day of the first Euro 2012 game in Kiev, featuring Ukraine against the mighty three lions (England), it’s gonna get wild.

At that moment, I was too overwhelmed by exhaustion that all I want to do is find my Hostel, so I soldier on past the shady tents offering cold Carlsberg. It takes me a while, but I find my Hostel on the 5th floor of an unmarked, nondescript building, thank god for the pin dropping feature on google maps. Finally I get to shower and rest my weary bones. Once I got settled in and was laying down for a snuggle session with my iPad, what appears to be a new hostel resident walks in the door. He sets up shop in the bunk across from me, but he has no luggage and has a more than friendly relationship with the girl at the hostel desk. Being my typical introverted self I do my best to ignore him, but after 5 minutes of avoiding eye contact he takes the initiative and swoops in with his introduction. Roustam, from Kiev, firm handshake. Upon hearing the first words out of my mouth he immediately knows I am an American and proceeds to profess his love for Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison and Dolly Parton music. I cant say much but agree that I do indeed know who those people are and I ask him the fruitless question of if he’d ever heard of Dollywood. Apparently me being American was simply all he needed to launch into a 30 minute one-way conversation. Even though his English was terrible and consisted mainly of hand gestures, I gathered that he was a local and frequently stays at this hostel to get away from his family who live right down the road. All I really want to do is take a nap, but Roustam is determined not to let that happen, my southern politeness gets the best of me and I entertain his conversation until I am past being tired and move into stomach churning hunger. I finally interrupt my Ukrainian acquaintance to let him know that I plan to go get some food and he immediately volunteers to show me the best spot for authentic local cuisine. Even though his interest in talking to me is starting to creep me out, I consent, I don’t want to be rude to a local after all. Roustam proceeds to show me to a cafeteria-like eatery around the corner that caters to the eastern European palette. Since all the food labels are in cyrillic, I simply point to the stuff that looks good and the attendants load my tray up with a cucumber and radish salad with dill, Borsch, fresh bread, a purple fruit juice and a Russian ratatouille topped with a giant chicken thigh.

After filling my belly to the brim (it was all delicious, especially the Borsch), Roustam is back with the suggestion that he show me a few sights around town. His generousity as a tour guide is starting to give off the hint of a scam, but I swallow my suspicions and let him carry on his merry way. He takes me to a local market just off the main street where dried fish and fresh meats are on display, along with a multitude of colorful fruits stacked higher than my head.

When I am finished browsing we head further down the street towards the mass of humanity that is preparing for the Euro Cup game in the cordoned off party zone. Tons of fans from Urkaine and England as well as Sweden and France (also playing that night) are in the streets guzzling beer and singing fight songs. Now I consider myself one of the more fervent sports fans when it comes to my North Carolina Tarheels basketball, but these, “Football”, fans put me to shame. Their face paint, chanting and drinking make for some of the best people watching I’ve ever experienced. As I walked down the street I even encountered a local dressed in traditional Cossack garb.

I was also able to gather a bit more information on just who this Roustam character actually was; apparently his father is a Judge in the downtown courts and his mother a doctor. He is from Kiev but claims strong Russian roots and shows a deep appreciation for the military. Things are starting to come together a bit, but I’m still on my guard since I refuse to easily trust a populace so invested in Capri pants. I begin to notice that Roustam seems to know a lot of people around town. We are frequently stopping to chat with everyone, old and young, from security guards to local partygoers. At one point a cabbie pulls over and begins to talk to him, after they converse for a bit, Roustam tells me he has offered to take us somewhere. Now this is getting sketchy, but my conversation and observation of my happenstance tour guide has instilled a wee bit of trust that was not there upon my first impression. I climb into the cab, albeit reluctantly. A few minutes later we arrive at the riverfront of the Dnieper and climb out of the cab. Roustam urges me toward the boat docks where he says he has a plan. Lined up along the river are several large ferryboats which are being boarded by locals and tourists alike.

Roustam pays for my entry and at the same time picks up a bottle of authentic Ukrainan cognac. I soon come to realize why, as this vessel is in fact a party barge. The dico lights turn and the captain shoves off down the river on a combination sightseeing/dancing cruise.

As Roustam and I attack the cognac, I start to get his full story and begin to understand the psychology behind his random acts of kindness. Roustam is the only child of a very prominent (and wealthy) Kiev family. His parents are overbearing (evidenced by several nagging phone calls he received during our voyage) and pressure him to also become a doctor or a lawyer. As a rebellious twenty-something often does, he has resisted that pressure and instead prefers a noncommittal life living with his parents and off their wealth in the city. When the weight of their expectations becomes to much for him he withdraws by escaping to the Hostel where he works part-time and has discovered that he can meet new and interesting people who don’t know him and don’t judge him for who his parents are. It guiltily dawns on my that I am just another enabler to his behavior, fostering his avoidance and keeping him in the cycle of hiding from his responsibilities. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t that guilty, I was getting treated to a all expense paid night out in Kiev, just because I am an American. Living as a vagabond, now in the more pricey territory of Europe, I am going to take what I can get. I simply relaxed and sat back to watch the sun set and the sights pass by on the river.

As the boat/night carried on, we joined the dance party with the other boat guests and Roustam put in request after request to the DJ for more Russian music. My western dance moves didn’t seem to mesh with the strange Russian music, but no one seemed to notice. Soon the boat came to a halt and we disembarked. Roustam’s cabbie friend met us at the street corner and took us back to the center of town to watch the end of the Euro match. The game atmosphere was exciting, but deflating as the Ukrainian team lost and were summarily eliminated from Euro 2012. I was surprised that the majority of fans remained in good spirits, even in defeat. Instead of rioting and looting (as the number of armed police in the area would suggest) they left the streets still chanting for their squad with only a minor contingent chanting slights agains the referees. At that point in the evening I glanced at my watch and realized it was past midnight. My pumpkin flew out of Kiev airport promptly at 6:40am so I thanked Roustam for his generousity and said my goodbyes. Roustam only made me promise that I would show him the same hospitality should he turn up in the United States. Fortunately for me and my bank account, he forgot to get my contact information

Viva Ukraine!

Posted in Eastern Europe, Sightseeing, Travel, Ukraine
Tagged Aerosvit, Borsch, Capris, Carlsberg, Cryillic, Eastern Europe, Euro 2012, Europe, Google Maps, Hostel, Hryvnia, Kiev, Kiev Airport, Kreshchatyk, Layover, Russian, Ukraine
4 Comments

June 24, 2012

How to get to Siem Reap (Travel Tips)

For those of you simply reading my blog for entertainment, this post is probably not going to interest you greatly. But you lucky few with the cojones to venture out to SEA will ultimately feel compelled to visit the ancient ruins of Angkor Archeological park in Siem Reap, Cambodia and may find this post helpful. Even though the distance may seem short compared to some jaunts within only Thailand, this particular journey is riddled with pitfalls. So this is the bit of travel advice I can offer to those wanting to make the trip. All those who have convinced themselves that that a trip to SEA is not possible, you can simply wait for my next post which will showcase pics and descriptions of all the amazing things you are cheating yourself out of.

My travel experience to Siem Reap was by land, which is also the most affordable way, but this path is laden with booby traps waiting to trip you up, some even government sanctioned. If you have the greenbacks, I’ve heard it’s much simpler to fly to Siem Reap, albeit more expensive. Most backpackers and flash packers will enter Cambodia much the same way as i did, with the horror that is getting there by land. The journey began smoothly enough in Bangkok. After a little online research I decided to take the train instead of the bus, and since I was in Khaosan the night before I certainly didn’t catch the early train. I opted for the 1:05pm train to Aranyprathet, realizing and accepting the fact that the border crossing into Cambodia closes at 8pm, so if the train was delayed (as they typically are ) I may be staying overnight in Aranyprathet or Poi Pet. Luckily the train faced no serious delays and I was at the Aranyprathet station by 7pm. It is at this point where you have to be smart and keep your head on a swivel. You will be approached by numerous tuk-tuk drivers who want to take you to the Poi Pet border crossing for anywhere between 20 and 80bht. You do have to take the tuk-tuk, but just beware, they will purposefully take you fake Cambodian Visa stands in hopes of getting a kickback from their friends that run those operations. It will most likely appear fishy from the get-go, so just refuse to exit the Tuk-tuk and ignore the tout that approaches you from the fake Visa stand. Request firmly that the driver take you to the real border crossing (or Night Market). You know you are in the right place when you see the proper government signs and channels for immigration to Cambodia. To assist you visually, the market will be on your left and the border crossing is right between the two huge casinos next to the market. Don’t get out of the tuk-tuk and don’t talk to anyone untill you see that gateway and those casinos. I arrived in as the sun was setting and as Obi-Wan Kenobi once said, “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy”. Seriously Poi Pet is terrifying, you are being approached by touts in all directions and there are literally rats scurrying from one trash heap to the next; just put the blinders on, stare straight ahead and do not acknowledge their existence. The first stop is the Thai customs, it’s indoors and you will see signs, no one needs to lead you there as you will enter via several guardrail channels under signage marked for immigration. They check your passport and send you speedily thru to the no-mans-land that is the Casinos. After leaving Thailand head directly to the Cambodian Visa building to get your visa. It will be on the right side of the street before the first casino. It should cost you $20 or 800bht and remember to bring a passport photo with you or else you will be charged an extra 100bht. Once you have the visa proceed past the casinos on the right side of the road and enter Cambodia where they will check your Visa and stamp your passport. Whew! But it’s not over yet, now you face the Next wave of scammers waiting to ferry you from Poi Pet to Siem Reap.
I heard from multiple sources that the best part about Poi Pet, Cambodia is leaving Poi Pet, I wholeheartedly agree. However, in your rush to get out, don’t make a hasty decision about your transportation to Siem Reap. There is a huge and well know government sanctioned bus scam, so avoid the buses or anyone offering to take you to a bus station. Your best option is to use good judgement and common sense to find a reputable cab driver that will take you directly from Poi Pet to your Hotel in Siem Reap (if you don’t have a hotel booked, just say the Pub Street). The cost for this cab ride should be somewhere between $20-$50 depending on the quality of the cab, after all it is a 2 hour drive. If traveling alone its best to try and find some others to split the cab fare with, try to find someone while in line during customs. I paired up with the only other English speaking couple crossing the border that night and we found a questionable, but not totally dodgy driver that offered us a ride in his Toyota Camry for $35. The 2 hour drive to Siem Reap went smoothly enough, until we got close to the town and the cab drive took an abrupt turn off the main road and into what appeared to be a shady tuk-tuk junction. He informed us that the tuk-tuk will take us from here to our hotel for free. We proceeded to inform him that this wasn’t the arrangement we agreed on, that he promised to take us all the way to the hotel. Again, just be firm and persistent, but don’t lose your cool. They will ultimately cave and do as they promised. This little hiccup is simply a way for the cab drivers to hook up their tuk-tuk buddies with business for the next day by having them ferry you the last few miles to your hotel and tell you how they can give you an Angkor tour the next day. Probably no harm done, but in the dark in Cambodia its best not to take chances.
Once you are in Siem Reap and ready to purchase a one day, 3 day, or one week pass to Angkor Archeological park, your best strategy is to purchase your pass on the day before you plan to start, at 4:45pm. So find a tuk-tuk driver around 4pm and negotiate a deal for the evening transportation of a few hours, it should only be around $5-$8. By purchasing your pass at 4:45pm the day before, you will get to visit the complex from 4:45 to 5:30 that evening for free, taking in a complementary sunset. I reccomend you take in that first sunset at the ancillary temple of Phnom Bakheng, saving the main Angkor Wat temple for a sunrise and subsequent mini-tour or grand tour via tuk-tuk on a full day. You want to be sure you get to the top of the Phnom Bakheng temple before the cutoff time of 5:30, so head straight there after getting your pass at 4:45. If you want to save you first sight of Angkor Wat for sunrise, simply avert your gaze and don’t look to the right as you head to Phnom Bakheng. It takes about 15 minutes to walk to the top where you should promptly get in line to climb the temple stairs to the top. Once you made it up top, before the 5:30pm cutoff, you will have to wait around an hour more for the sun to set. So grab a seat and relax with the rest of the crowd. It would be advisable to bring a water or snack with you and some sort of reading material.
Finally, when then sun drops below the horizon, you can climb back down the temple and find your tuk-tuk driver for the ride back to the hotel. The driver will try to sell you on his services for the next day and a mini or grand tour of Angkor, only take up the offer if you get a good vibe from him, since you can always take your pic of drivers the next day. You want a driver that speaks reasonably good English and has a decent knowledge of the temples in the park with their history history.
There ya go, that’s all you need to know to get to one of the great wonders of the world, if a dunce like me can do it without getting totally ripped off, so can you. If you plan on going back to Bangkok after Siem Reap (as I did), the journey back is a bit easier and you will have attained a new level of travel savvy after dealing with the entry. My recommendation is that you book a bus to take you to Poi Pet and no further. You can book these buses with your hotel or hostel and even at some of the travel agencies on Pub Street. They will offer you transportation all the way back to Bangkok, but the problem is that after Poi Pet you switch to a different bus and typically that bus will make frequent and mandatory snack, souvenir and dinner stops at their buddies shops all the way back to Bangkok, stretching a 5 hour drive into an 8 hour one. Once you get dropped off at Poi Pet, brush off the touts (you should be good at this by now) and head straight to Customs. This way, Cambodian customs are a breeze, they take your fingerprints and send you through, the bad part is Thai Customs. The lines are long and the inspection is through, since there is a problem with many illegal immigrants from Cambodia. It takes at least an hour in most cases, 2 hours in mine since it was pissing rain and the power went out halfway through the process. After you are through Customs, proceed to have a tuk-tuk take you to the “Government Bus Station”, be clear about this as they may try and take you to a privately owned place. You know you are at the right bus station when you see the 7/11 on the corner and behind it there is the enclave where you buy your bus ticket. 220 bht will get you on a bus directly to Bangkok and the last bus leaves at 4pm. The bus I rode was extremely high quality and I was very pleased. They even give you complementary water, coffee, snack and kiwi juice box! The bus will take about 5-6 hours and drop you off at Mo Chit station in Bangkok, which is accessible by BTS and Taxi.

Good Luck and enjoy the Journey!

Posted in Cambodia, Travel
Tagged Angkor Archeological Park, Angkor Wat, Bangkok, Bangkok to Angkor Wat, Bangkok to Cambodia, Bangkok to Siem Reap, Cambodia, Customs, Poi Pet, Pub Street, Siem Reap, Thailand, Transportation, travel, Tuk-tuk
2 Comments

June 21, 2012

My SEA Top 10 Tips

Ive spent almost 2 months in Southeast Asia and I have learned a great deal about living and traveling in this area. Therefore, I’ve decided to compile my top 10 SEA tips and observations for those considering a visit, in order for you to survive and thrive:

1. Pack light: No more than a carryon bag and you can even make it with just a large backpack. Anything and everything in SEA is cheap to purchase and you can get whatever you need as you realize you need it. This includes clothes, shoes, toiletries, electronics and medicines. I do not recommend that you bring nice/expensive sandals or sunglasses as you will lose them, i guarantee it. I have already gone through at least 4 pairs of flip-flops and 4 sunglasses, the good thing is that they are insanely cheap to replace. As for your one bag of choice, I don’t recommend the typical backcountry backpack, you are immediately labeled as a tourist/backpacker and open yourself up to being taken advantage of by local scammers because you stick out like a sore thumb. Also, you get more than one sideways look when walking through nice parts of town or checking into the occasional 4 star hotel for a respite from camping or hostel life. I chose the bag made by Rick Steves. The bag is designed to the maximum dimensions of an airplane overhead compartment and while it may appear to be just a square shaped piece of luggage it does have hideable backpack straps and a waist strap that can be configured in a variety of ways for backpacking. As for handbags or a day-pack, you can get those for cheap in any mall or night market, and ladies you know you will want a souvenir handbag at some point anyway, so why bring one from home? While we’re on the subject of shoulder bags, the, “Hangover II”, movie did get one thing right; When Thai men (like Leslie Chow) are out and about or traveling, they do carry man purses, however they are probably not filled with lots of cash or skittles. For your clothes, I say; 1 pants, 1 shorts, 1 swimwear, 1 collared shirt, 3 t-shirts, low profile running shoes, and something like boat-shoes that can be worn out to dinner or to the beach. Remember: it’s hot and humid, so cotton is the devil, if you are wearing cotton and get wet or sweaty, you will stay that way. Invest in some dri-fit. Oh, and protect your electronic gadgetry with some high quality cases, I’ve seen far too many smashed cameras, iPhones and computers. And your life will be so much easier if you do bring an electronic device that accesses wifi, don’t depend on Internet cafes, wifi is everywhere and the glorious interwebs is the ultimate travel assistant.

2. Payment is in cash and is negotiable: since Internet and phone service are spotty at best, most establishments cannot accept credit cards for payment. Cash (Thai Baht) is a must, especially in the islands and on street level in the cities. Many a traveler is stuck when they depend on their credit cards or USD for getting around, eating or shopping. Luckily, ATMs are plentiful in most places and you can withdraw up to 15,000 Bhat at a time (of course there is a 150 bht surcharge for each withdrawal). Once you have your cash in hand, only a fool pays the sticker price. Everything from sandals to mouthwash to hotel rooms are negotiable. Most items do not even have a price listed, you just have to find out from the shop/stall owner. My favorite strategy is to inquire about the price of an item at one place, then go to the next and speak first to suggest a lower price to the vendor. The vendor will probably counter your offer so then I like to just stay silent for a while, the vendor may go ahead and drop their offer once more if you seem hesitant, without you having to haggle at all. In the end, don’t be afraid to walk away, even if you really want or need the item/service. Sometimes the bottom line price isn’t given to you until you make it five steps away from the storefront. Everything is still cheap in SEA so sometimes haggling over 2 or 3 dollars is pointless, unless you just like the sport of it. The bottom line is: only pay a much as you feel comfortable with for the particular item or service and don’t get duped into a high price before you are comfortable understanding the conversion rate. Luckily, Thai money is color coded and sized differently, making it easy to get a handle on the note denominations quickly.
NB – always make sure that you negotiate the price for a taxi or tuk-tuk before you get in, and in the case of the taxi make sure they turn the meter on.

3. Take your shoes off: most of SEA and especially Thailand is predominantly Buddhist, and you never step foot into a temple with shoes on, heck, you aren’t even supposed to point your feet in the direction of the Buddha. Most stores and many hotels will require removal of shoes as well. Thais consider feet very dirty, so never put your feet up on something, touch someone or something with you feet and for gosh sakes, take your shoes off before entering anywhere indoors. The will usually be a pile of shoes and sandals to tip you off, but if you really value your footwear you may avoid the pile and toss them in a more discrete location. This probably goes without saying, but lace up shoes are a pain in the ass, wear slip-ons or sandals. The cheaper the shoes the better, my last pair of flip-flops lasted me 4 days before they dissapeared and an Aussie friend of my said his record was 5 pairs in a week. Luckily, flip-flops only run you about 100 baht (~$4). It’s worth noting that with all the shoelessness, you should still be very careful not to injure your feet on glass or other sharp objects, things tend to get infected very quickly and nastily in SEA.

4. Stay calm: in SEA it is very “uncool” to get angry or raise your voice. Your patience will get tested regularly, I can promise that. Thais are very relaxed and patient people so it’s best that you adapt the same attitude. Whether its your transportation being late, your food order being wrong or almost getting run over by a scooter, just take a deep breath and let the Buddhist philosophy take hold. Americans do have the worst reputation for breaking this rule and getting upset with the little things, so set a good example for the rest of us and take a very large chill pill. At times you will be constantly pestered by touts wanting to sell you everything from cheap suits to ping-pong shows, don’t get frustrated by their persistence, keep the blinders on and keep walking with a smile. There are never any fist fights at bars, even amongst the ludicrously intoxicated, and you never want to get into a fight with a local. Instigating a fight with a local will most certainly involve you defending yourself from multiple other locals, unfair fights, using bottles, pipes, knives, rocks and Muay Thai techniques. If you just keep your cool, everything little ting is gonna be alright. Your bus or boat will show up, your food order will get fixed (or whatever they gave you will taste great anyway), and your air-con and Internet will start working again.

5. Try new food: don’t miss out on some of the most tasty items in SEA due to the questionable cooking areas, strange smells, strange names or your utter cowardice. Thai people are especially we’ll known for their cleanliness in cooking. Most “kitchens” wouldn’t pass even the most basic inspection in the states, but the cooks themselves know what they are doing. Utensils and dishes are sanitized and the food is properly stored and cooked. Some people miss out on some really great food experiences because they only stick to what they know. Obviously don’t drink the water from the tap but bottled water and the ice in restaurants are ok, and it’s ok to brush your teeth with the tap water. I ate and drank everything I could and I never once got sick, not even a tummy ache. Try all the strange looking fruits, I haven’t found one I disliked yet, I especially love the Rambutan and Mangosteen. Sample the street-side insects (I recommend crickets) and go all out at the 7/11 with crab and basil flavored chips, strange looking yogurt drinks, seaweed jerky and for gosh sakes if you haven’t had a tuna toasty at 2am, first, punch yourself in the face, then do yourself a favor and go buy 2 of them.

6. Ask Travel Agents, but don’t always buy from them: since there is an increased requirement for travel by bus, boat, van, taxi, scooter, pack-mule etc., you will find yourself in need of some localized guidance. The wonderful interwebs can only get you so far in SEA because in second and third world countries most transportation methods do not list online and getting from place to place requires multiple modes of transportation. My last adventure from Siem Reap to Bangkok involved: tuk-tuk/mini bus/walking/tuk-tuk/tour bus/motorbike taxi/train, in that order. In SEA you have to get by the old fashioned way and that means using a travel agent…sometimes. I have been ripped off by an agent my fare share of times or mislead in a variety of ways, but I have always made it to my final destination. Many fiercely independent travelers will shy away from the many travel agencies all over SEA, but they really can be an invaluable resource for information and a discount on complicated travel arrangements. If you have time to do the research online, you can most likely figure out the rough idea of getting from point A to B, but don’t expect it to be smooth. Traveling from place to place is always an adventure and most often very exhausting, but some of my best moments and stories have come from these trying travel days.

7. Don’t always be a “Pleasure Seeker”: many travelers envision the ideal SEA vacation to be all about sipping fruity alcoholic beverages on the beach all day,experimenting with the variety of unpoliced drugs, or getting ridiculously pampered with massages and cheap yet fancy hotels. I have done plenty of the aforementioned from time to time but I feel that you really have to find times to separate yourself from all that noise. Take time to just have a walk-about, go grocery shopping, find an adventurous local excursion for the day, or just relax somewhere outside the bounds of your hotel. Challenge yourself with a cooking class, meditation retreat or volunteer work. In my opinion the best way to enjoy another country is to experience some of the culture, uninhibited and un-inebriated. You may come to realize that laying out poolside or on the beach is quite the same anywhere you go, even in your backyard. Take time to communicate with the locals or go to a market. It feels good to get away from the touristy flash. Even as a backpacker through hostels and camps, take time to get away from the other sweaty backpackers and immerse yourself in both the locals and the upscale vacationers. Perspective comes from both directions.

(Anna, if you are reading this, I’m sorry for using this picture, but it was too perfect, hehe)

8. Common Sense Rules: there are a million ways to die, get seriously injured or hurt. There are no guardrails, handrails or danger signs. Police are seldom around and when they are, they are most likely not on the side of helping a westerner. Crazy drivers, no helmets, horrible pavement, and unintelligible road signs. Stupid people don’t last in SEA, so use your noggin. Don’t put yourself in dumb situations with silly people and trust your instincts with touts and other potential scammers. Putting blinders on and training yourself not to look at every tout who says, “hey sir”, will take you leagues. I see all too often the bandaged limping backpacker and the small cut that turned grossly infected. Use band-aids (plasters) and antibiotic ointment on any scratch. If something looks unsafe, unstable or broken it probably is and will be soon. You can’t trust the upkeep of things in Asia quite like you can in the good ol’ US of A. If you find yourself in SEA, do your life expectancy a favor and use your stupid brain with everything from crossing the road to rock climbing.

9. Get used to the Bathrooms: you will be faced with toilet challenges of all kinds. Usually the first is the noticeable absence of toilet paper. The sewers here just aren’t designed for anything but human waste, so most toilets come equipped with a handheld bidet. Don’t worry if you are washing the walls with it at first, with forced practice you will get used to it, I promise. If you are lucky enough to have TP, don’t throw it in the toilet, use the trash can, you don’t want an Asian plumbing problem. Secondly, it’s guaranteed that at some point you will have to use a, “squatter”. When you find yourself in the more local parts of town there are no western toilets to be found. Instead you have the more eastern style, “squatter”, toilet. So aptly named because that’s exactly what you do; stand on the porcelain rim and squat. It’s a strange and smelly experience, but some say it is a healthier way of taking the Cosbys to the pool. The “squatters” are also a manual flush operation, so when you are finished you dump a few bucketful’s of water down that drain and let gravity do the work. Lastly, in most hotel rooms, the bathroom and the shower are the same closet sized room and the showers are usually cold water, handheld, low pressure garbage. But I like to look on the bright side and consider the multi-tasking opportunities a toilet/shower brings.

10. Asians like a slim fit: when purchasing clothing in SEA, which I do highly reccomned since its cheap and allows you to pack light, remember that they are a small people in general. I think my first purchase was underwear, and I learned the hard way. Large was unwearable at the get-go, XL was unwearable after 1 wash, and XXL (the largest you will find, if you are even that lucky) are more nut-hugging than I am comfortable with. Same goes for shirts, shorts and pants. Just attempt to try things on before buying them, even though fitting rooms are nonexistent in SEA, you left your dignity back home, so drop trow and try it on right then and there.

So in closing: Have a freaking, bomb-ass, grandma slappin, helluva good time because you are not only smart and lucky, but brave enough to shun the traditional, “one weak”, vacation in Mexico and come to one of the greatest spots on the planet.

Posted in Cambodia, Food, Malaysia, Thailand, Travel
Tagged 7/11, Aussie, Backpacker, Baht, Bangkok, Bidet, Buddhist, Cambodia, Haggling, Hostel, Hotel, insects, iPhone, Luggage, Malaysia, Rick Steve's, SEA, Siem Reap, Squatter, Thai Massage, Thailand, Travel Agent
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June 19, 2012

Status Update (and housecleaning)

As I prepare to leave the land of geckos, coconuts and ladyboys, I figure it’s time for a brief update on my plans and some general housecleaning of the blog. Prague is my next destination and I feel like I should be ready for a change of climate and cuisine, but I can’t help being saddened that I am leaving SEA. It’s been a really rad 2 months and I feel like there is still so much I left untouched, especially after my recent week-long venture into Cambodia. As I was enduring the 6 hour third class train from Bangkok to the Cambodian border, I realized wholeheartedly that I love Thailand. My seat was heinously uncomfortable plastic and the train car unbelievably crowded along with no A/C in 90 degree heat, but as I stared out the open window at acre upon acre of farmland and palms I felt a settling peace and contentment that made my ass ache less. Even with movies like “The Beach” and “Hangover 2″ exposing the fun to be had and beauty to be seen in Thailand, I frequently wonder; why don’t more Americans come here? It’s strange how much Thailand seems like an undiscovered paradise at times, even when I’m amongst the crowds of European, Scandinavian, British and Australian tourists/backpackers. It’s just strangely uncommon to run into other Americans. In my 2 months here I’ve only met a handful, not a single north (or south) Carolinian, and only one from my stomping grounds of the southeast in general. Not saying that this is an incredibly bad thing, I get to enjoy being minority most of the time and picking up on the many language and cultural differences of our English speaking brethren from across both ponds.
When vagabonding, you not only visit interesting and unique places, you also get to meet a variety of interesting and unique people. Kindred souls or polar opposites, there something about traveling that gets me out of my introverted shell. That person sitting next to you on the island ferry or 8 hour night bus ride might be just an annoying 20 minute conversation or they could end up being your travel buddy for weeks, you just never know until you speak up. As a single traveler most of the time, I often ponder the benefits of a travel buddy; they will watch your bag when you go pee, they will split cab/hotel cost with you and they don’t mind as much when you pass out on their shoulder on that 8 hour night bus. I’ve picked up a couple good travel buddies in my time here, Travis and John of course, Shawn, Ollie & Gabby and James, Casey and now enter Kelvin and Sophia.

During my sweat drenched, rat infested, scam ridden journey across the Thailand border into Cambodia I chanced to meet this couple, an American guy from Wisconsin and a British gal from Brighton. They extended a helping hand to me when it was apparent I was a bit overwhelmed and close to my breaking point. Through our subsequent border crossing and shared taxi ride into Siem Reap we struck up a partnership that lasted my full week in Cambodia. We played tomb raider in the ancient ruins of Angkor Wat, ate a confusing Cambodia BBQ and had quite a few tequila and dancing infused late nights.
One evening, shortly after placing 3rd in a Cambodian pub quiz (and polishing off two towers of Anchor Beer), we were approached by an adorable waif of an Australian girl who was looking for some buddies herself, so in the nature that almost all travelers here share, we gave her a chair and poured her a beer from our tower. Jagerbombs and ridiculous dance moves later, we had ourselves a veritable gang. The wonderful Rachel was a sharp witted, ukelele toting aussie gal who shared the same creative and nerdy traits of all my great friends back home, only with an Australian accent, schwing! She is quite hilarious and you can see for yourself on her blog, http://www.racheltripsitup.wordpress.com. Seriously, do it, she’s a much more entertaining writer than me and she will have loads of great stories to tell as she works teaching in Cambodia.
The hard part comes when it’s time to go your separate ways. You feel like you’ve made a connection with some people that is lasting and just when the fun starts you are called in different directions, c’est la vie. You hope that one day your paths may cross again, but the odds are hardly ever in your favor (no Hunger Games pun intended). However, you never know, I thought I said my final goodbyes to my trek-mates in Chiang Mai, only to meet up with them a week later in distant Koh Tao. It’s all part of the ride, sometimes you feel up and sometimes you crash, but as the Chinese proverb states, “the journey is the reward”. Sorry if this post seems a little scatterbrained, it’s probably because I truly feel that way at the moment. Excited and anxious for a new part of the world to explore but occasionally detached and depressed that I have to leave one of the best places on earth. To make up for the terrible writing and flow, here are some fun housecleaning pics: