Friday February 21, 2014
Day 1
Breakfast = $2.25
Lunch = $1
Free Transport to Hostel
Siem Reap Hostel = $38
Dinner = $5
Day 2
Temple Pass for 3 Days = $40
Angkor Wat
Breakfast = $4.50
Water = 50 cents
Tuk-Tuk = $5
Bayon
Ta Prohm
Lunch = $3.75
Pub Street
Dinner = $2.50
Night Market
Day 3
Breakfast buffet = $2
Pad Thai = $3.50
Banana Nutella Pancake = $1
Smoothie = $1.25
Yellow Noodles = $3.50
Movie Night at Hostel: Tomb Raider
Day 4
Breakfast buffet = $2
Stilted Village = $18
Yellow Noodles
Banana Pancake
Smoothie
Snake = 75 cents
Tarantula = 75 cents
Day 5
Breakfast buffet = $2
Carpool to Temple = $15
Beng Mealea = $5
Pho = $2
Water = 25 cents
Banana Pancake = $1
Watermelon Juice = $1
Fried Noodles = $1
Day 6
Breakfast buffet = $2
Laundry = $2
Fried Noodles = $1
Temples
Tuk-Tuk = $15
Banana Pancake = $1
Guava Smoothie = $1
Water = 25 cents
Day 7
Breakfast buffet = $2
Banteay Srei
Tuk-Tuk = $10
Yellow Noodles
Smoothie
Banana Pancake
Day 8
Breakfast buffet = $2
Lunch = $5
Dinner = $3.50
Tuk-Tuk to Airport = $6
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
4 Days in the Capitol of Cambodia
Phnom Penh (February 17, 2014)
Day 1
Visa = $25
Tuk-Tuk ride to Hostel = $4
Lunch = $1
Dinner = $1
Day 2
Breakfast = $2.25
Lunch = $1
2 water bottles = 54 cents
Independence Monument
Mekong River
Watermelon Juice = $2.25
Day 3
Breakfast = $2.25
Genocide Museum = $2
Killing Fields = $6
Tuk-Tuk = $6
Lunch = $5.50
Dinner = $2
Day 4
Breakfast = $4
Laundry = $4
Bus Ticket to Siem Reap = $8
Frozen Yogurt = $2.25
2 water bottles = 52 cents
Milkshake = $2.25
Two Days in Ho Chi Minh
Day 1
Visa = $45
Taxi to Hotel = $35 (Rip Off!)
LaFelix Hotel = $30
Breakfast = $2.50
Ben Than Market
People's Court
Saigon River
Lunch = 67 Dong
Dinner = 97 Dong
Day 2
Free Breakfast at Bich Hotel
Sunday Morning Mass at Notre Dame Basilica
Reunification Palace
Guava Smoothie = 20 Dong
Lunch = 63 Dong
Jackfruit Smoothie = 20 Dong
Booked Bus to Phnom Penh = $11
Dinner = 91 Dong
Visa = $45
Taxi to Hotel = $35 (Rip Off!)
LaFelix Hotel = $30
Breakfast = $2.50
Ben Than Market
People's Court
Saigon River
Lunch = 67 Dong
Dinner = 97 Dong
Day 2
Free Breakfast at Bich Hotel
Sunday Morning Mass at Notre Dame Basilica
Reunification Palace
Guava Smoothie = 20 Dong
Lunch = 63 Dong
Jackfruit Smoothie = 20 Dong
Booked Bus to Phnom Penh = $11
Dinner = 91 Dong
A Week in Thailand
Flight from Seoul with an overnight layover in Shanghai.
Bangkok
Day 1 (01/17/14)
Kuan San Road
Day 2 (01/18/14)
Visiting Temples via Tuk-Tuk
Choa Phraya River Boat Tour
Chiang Mai
Day 1 (01/19/14)
Visiting Temples on Foot
Night Market
Day 2 (01/20/14)
Thai Cooking Class = 700 Baht
Day 3 (01/21/14)
Zip-lining
Day 4 (01/22/14)
Tiger Kingdom = 420 Baht
Day 5 (01/23/14)
Woody Elephant Training Camp = 2,400 Baht
Day 6 (01/24/14)
free day to relax
Day 7 (01/25/14)
Flight to Seoul with an overnight layover in Shanghai.
Bangkok
Day 1 (01/17/14)
Kuan San Road
Day 2 (01/18/14)
Visiting Temples via Tuk-Tuk
Choa Phraya River Boat Tour
Chiang Mai
Day 1 (01/19/14)
Visiting Temples on Foot
Night Market
Day 2 (01/20/14)
Thai Cooking Class = 700 Baht
Day 3 (01/21/14)
Zip-lining
Day 4 (01/22/14)
Tiger Kingdom = 420 Baht
Day 5 (01/23/14)
Woody Elephant Training Camp = 2,400 Baht
Day 6 (01/24/14)
free day to relax
Day 7 (01/25/14)
Flight to Seoul with an overnight layover in Shanghai.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Small World
Sunday February 16, 2014
I walked from my hotel in Ho Chi Minh to the Notre Dam Basilica to catch the morning church service. I underestimated how long it would take to walk there, so I was late, but I managed to squeeze in a pew before the sermon ended. I was surprised to discover that the sermon was delivered entirely in English with no Vietnamese accent. I was so curious where he was from, so I found him after the service and introduced myself. He said he was from Missouri. I told him I was from Louisiana. He was the youth pastor at Louisiana Tech in 1986 and 1987. I was born in Baton Rouge in 1988.
Small world.
Sunday November 9, 2014
I was at an Irish Pub in the financial district of NYC. The bartender asked me where I'm from. I said Louisiana. He asked which city. I assumed most people wouldn't know Slidell, so I just said it's an hour from New Orleans. "Not Slidell?" he asked. "Yes," I said, amazed. "How did you know?"
The bartender said he has been to New Orleans several times. "For Mardi Gras?" I asked.
He has never been to Mardi Gras. He's only been to NOLA for football games and helping Hurricane Katrina victims. My two-story house flooded with four feet of water in Katrina.
Small world.
Tuesday November 11, 2014
I was sitting at breakfast in my hostel in NYC, wearing my jacket with English Teacher written in Korean on the back. There was a girl at the table behind me. She noticed the Korean on my back and I noticed the Korean on her travel guide book. After exchanging a few glances, I asked if she was Korean. She was born in Chungcheongnamdo, the same province in Korea where I taught English. We're both twenty-six years old. She currently lives in Seoul. I'll be returning to Korea this March.
Small world.
Wednesday November 12, 2014
I took a bus from NYC to DC. While passing through New Jersey, I glanced out my window to see a big-rig riding along side us. Written on the cab of the delivery truck was "Hammond, LA," where I've lived since I started attending SLU in August 2007.
Small world.
I walked from my hotel in Ho Chi Minh to the Notre Dam Basilica to catch the morning church service. I underestimated how long it would take to walk there, so I was late, but I managed to squeeze in a pew before the sermon ended. I was surprised to discover that the sermon was delivered entirely in English with no Vietnamese accent. I was so curious where he was from, so I found him after the service and introduced myself. He said he was from Missouri. I told him I was from Louisiana. He was the youth pastor at Louisiana Tech in 1986 and 1987. I was born in Baton Rouge in 1988.
Small world.
Sunday November 9, 2014
I was at an Irish Pub in the financial district of NYC. The bartender asked me where I'm from. I said Louisiana. He asked which city. I assumed most people wouldn't know Slidell, so I just said it's an hour from New Orleans. "Not Slidell?" he asked. "Yes," I said, amazed. "How did you know?"
The bartender said he has been to New Orleans several times. "For Mardi Gras?" I asked.
He has never been to Mardi Gras. He's only been to NOLA for football games and helping Hurricane Katrina victims. My two-story house flooded with four feet of water in Katrina.
Small world.
Tuesday November 11, 2014
I was sitting at breakfast in my hostel in NYC, wearing my jacket with English Teacher written in Korean on the back. There was a girl at the table behind me. She noticed the Korean on my back and I noticed the Korean on her travel guide book. After exchanging a few glances, I asked if she was Korean. She was born in Chungcheongnamdo, the same province in Korea where I taught English. We're both twenty-six years old. She currently lives in Seoul. I'll be returning to Korea this March.
Small world.
Wednesday November 12, 2014
I took a bus from NYC to DC. While passing through New Jersey, I glanced out my window to see a big-rig riding along side us. Written on the cab of the delivery truck was "Hammond, LA," where I've lived since I started attending SLU in August 2007.
Small world.
Bizarre, Bazaar
There's a big courtyard in the beautiful Thai city of Chiang Mai. My first day there, a market was assembled where locals sold food and souvenirs. My last day there was a classic car show. This evening there was nothing. After a long day, I decided to just sit on a bench and watch life go by. I watched families having picnics. I watched an old man ride around on a bicycle with a white board that read "Free International Hugs." I watched tourists sneak snapshots of monks in their traditional orange robes.
A guy with naturally brown curly hair that had been dyed pink down the middle introduced himself and took a seat next to me. He was British and looked to be in his late twenties. I told him I was an American on vacation from teaching ESL in South Korea. He said he was here to teach fire-breathing at circus school. Alright, you win, guy with a way more unusual and specific job.
A Chinese girl approached us, cell phone in hand, and asked if she could take a picture of the man with pink hair. And since he didn't do that to himself to avoid attention, he obliged her. Then she wanted a picture of the two of us together like the old friends I guess we appeared to be. I put my arm around him and smiled. Before walking away, she mentioned that she'd be dancing at one of the clubs down town tonight if we were interested in joining. We said maybe, but meant no.
When she was a safe distance away, Pink informed me that he was on too many drugs to do something that required coordination, like dancing. He asked if I could tell he was on something. "No," I said. "Good," he said.
It was then that we were met by a dirty hippie. He was a carpenter from southern France, white with dreads. Either anything and everything normally makes him laugh hysterically, or he was high. He said he saves money on accommodations when traveling by sleeping in a hammock every night. "What if there's bad weather?" I asked. "What about animals and bugs? What if somebody tries to rob you?" He simply said he wasn't worried about it. After all, he's got a mosquito net and sleeps with his arms and legs wrapped around his luggage.
Hammock met up with his friends and took off. Pink had to go shopping and invited me to tag along. He told me the story of how he had sex with a girl in Laos who revealed that she was a prostitute after the act. "I should've known," he said. To paraphrase his side of the story: She invited him into her room to watch a movie, one thing led to another, and he had to pay for her services. That was as much detail as he was willing to divulge. Fine by me.
After watching Pink haggle a poor old man nearly to tears for an e-cig, I decided to go my own way.
I saw a blue sign that read Night Bazaar, and followed the arrow. I followed sign after sign, arrow after arrow until I found myself on a street lined with nothing but bars. I walked to the end of the street and looked left and right, hoping to see a bazaar. There was nothing to see, so I walked back up the street. Like sirens, ladies stand out in front of their bars and try to lure men inside.
As hard as I tried to resist the temptation, I was lured. I took a seat. This bar wasn't too popular. It was just me and about five women. You can see the appeal.
The woman who called to me was the only one who really spoke English well. She introduced herself and the other ladies. I wasn't in the mood for a drink, so I just took a water.
One of the ladies positioned herself closer to me and lavished me with attention, sensually moving her hands and hips. I knew I was just a customer, but I allowed her to continue her sales pitch for a while.
The bartender asked, "You like her?"
"Yes," I said. "She's very nice." Why do you ask?
The bartender gave me the price for her special services. This sounds like the beginning of a story that will later be told with "one thing led to another" censoring the middle, and ending with an itchy souvenir. I feel like I've heard a similar story where the male lead shouldn't known better.
"Sorry. I don't have any money."
"No money, no honey."
No problem.
A guy with naturally brown curly hair that had been dyed pink down the middle introduced himself and took a seat next to me. He was British and looked to be in his late twenties. I told him I was an American on vacation from teaching ESL in South Korea. He said he was here to teach fire-breathing at circus school. Alright, you win, guy with a way more unusual and specific job.
A Chinese girl approached us, cell phone in hand, and asked if she could take a picture of the man with pink hair. And since he didn't do that to himself to avoid attention, he obliged her. Then she wanted a picture of the two of us together like the old friends I guess we appeared to be. I put my arm around him and smiled. Before walking away, she mentioned that she'd be dancing at one of the clubs down town tonight if we were interested in joining. We said maybe, but meant no.
When she was a safe distance away, Pink informed me that he was on too many drugs to do something that required coordination, like dancing. He asked if I could tell he was on something. "No," I said. "Good," he said.
It was then that we were met by a dirty hippie. He was a carpenter from southern France, white with dreads. Either anything and everything normally makes him laugh hysterically, or he was high. He said he saves money on accommodations when traveling by sleeping in a hammock every night. "What if there's bad weather?" I asked. "What about animals and bugs? What if somebody tries to rob you?" He simply said he wasn't worried about it. After all, he's got a mosquito net and sleeps with his arms and legs wrapped around his luggage.
Hammock met up with his friends and took off. Pink had to go shopping and invited me to tag along. He told me the story of how he had sex with a girl in Laos who revealed that she was a prostitute after the act. "I should've known," he said. To paraphrase his side of the story: She invited him into her room to watch a movie, one thing led to another, and he had to pay for her services. That was as much detail as he was willing to divulge. Fine by me.
After watching Pink haggle a poor old man nearly to tears for an e-cig, I decided to go my own way.
I saw a blue sign that read Night Bazaar, and followed the arrow. I followed sign after sign, arrow after arrow until I found myself on a street lined with nothing but bars. I walked to the end of the street and looked left and right, hoping to see a bazaar. There was nothing to see, so I walked back up the street. Like sirens, ladies stand out in front of their bars and try to lure men inside.
As hard as I tried to resist the temptation, I was lured. I took a seat. This bar wasn't too popular. It was just me and about five women. You can see the appeal.
The woman who called to me was the only one who really spoke English well. She introduced herself and the other ladies. I wasn't in the mood for a drink, so I just took a water.
One of the ladies positioned herself closer to me and lavished me with attention, sensually moving her hands and hips. I knew I was just a customer, but I allowed her to continue her sales pitch for a while.
The bartender asked, "You like her?"
"Yes," I said. "She's very nice." Why do you ask?
The bartender gave me the price for her special services. This sounds like the beginning of a story that will later be told with "one thing led to another" censoring the middle, and ending with an itchy souvenir. I feel like I've heard a similar story where the male lead shouldn't known better.
"Sorry. I don't have any money."
"No money, no honey."
No problem.
THE END
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Quiet on the Bus
I was taking a bus into a big city to go shopping one afternoon when I was living in Korea. I was traveling with a fellow ESL teacher from Wales. She and I taught in a small town where foreigners were rarely seen. So when we saw a big group of Germans board the bus, we were excited to talk to them. We were headed to Daejeon, while they were headed to Seoul for a martial arts tournament. Other than being foreign, we didn't have much common ground for conversation.
I mentioned that I'd been to Switzerland and Austria, and that I'd love to go to Germany one day. One of the guys responded by saying that the Swiss and Austrians only try to speak German.
When we hit a lull, I started talking to my Welsh friend. While swapping funny stories about our students, one of the Germans offered me a piece of chewy ginseng candy. I accepted the gift, even though I don't think they taste very good, and thanked him. After finishing it, I continued my conversation. Then they all laughed, saying they wished that would have shut me up. My attempt at a friendly conversation with my fellow foreigners was a failure. I was silent from embarrassment for the remainder of the trip.
I was taking a bus from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap during my Cambodia vacation in February 2014. I sat across from two beautiful girls from London (the redhead was born in Ireland). We were exchanging travel stories for about the first half of this six-hour trip. There was an older woman sitting in front of me, and looking through the space between the two seat-backs, I could see she was reading a travel book in German. Apparently I was once again enrapt in conversation to the point of not being aware of the volume of my voice. I assumed everybody must be talking to somebody. After all, people have loud conversations on planes. There was loud street noise and we were driving on old bumpy dirt roads. Surely nobody was attempting to sleep. It's not like we were in the study room of a library. But once again, someone from Germany was tired of hearing me speak to someone from the UK.
She turned around and asked if I worked for CNN. Confused, I said no, I'm an English teacher. Then she hit me with the punchline: "Oh, because you're really loud."
The girls asked me what happened, and I whispered that we need to be quiet on the bus. They both promptly took a nap.
We pulled over somewhere for a lunch and bathroom break. Each individual stall was like a little wooden closet with a hole in the ground instead of an actual toilet. There was a cafeteria-style dining area. None of the food looked appealing to me, so I shopped at the fruit stand. I bought a bunch of bananas for one US dollar.
There were steers wondering around, and I thought that I also heard stray cats. If the cattle here aren't fenced in anywhere, seeing wild cats wouldn't be surprising. But I never saw any. Just as everybody started to board the bus, the German woman approached me said I have to go check out this bird. I saw the bird cage she pointed to, and I knelt in front of it. There was a small black bird inside. There were no cats. The bird said "Meow." It didn't make a sound similar to cats. This bird literally said the word "Meow." It also told me "Hi." I was mesmerized. By the time I turned my phone on to record a video of this, I had to get back on the bus.
Three days later I visited a village on my 26th birthday. That night I decided I would try something new and crazy to celebrate my new age. I had been curious about trying bugs, since it was something people did in Southeast Asia--locals for the protein, and tourists for the novelty. So I found a food cart that sold crickets, beetles, ants, tarantulas, and snakes. I thought the crickets and beetles would probably have the most unpleasant texture, and ants were too small. Tarantulas and snakes were only 75 cents each. I figured if they were gross, I wouldn't lose much. So I bought one tarantula and one snake. The snake was on a wooden stick like a kabob. It was about a foot long. Due to the dried skin and cartilage, I had to eat it like beef jerky. The taste was also similar to beef jerky. I didn't hate it, but I'm not a fan of gnawing on dried reptile skin. The tarantula was black, almost the size of my hand, and a bit greasy. I didn't want to taste the guts, so I didn't even attempt to eat the body. I plucked the legs off like flower petals.
When I started snacking on my spider, the German woman who mistook me for a newscaster showed up. She approached me as if we were complete strangers to tell me how entertaining it was to watch my face as the hairy barbecued legs inched their way down my throat. She also congratulated me on being so brave. She didn't ask if I would be reporting this on the news later. No jokes about the cat-bird. No jokes at all. She was just being friendly. She didn't hate me, or even remember me. The tae-kwon-do Germans probably don't remember that annoying American they gave the shut-up candy to either.
I thanked her.
She waved goodbye.
I finished my serving of spider legs. Something new. Something crazy.
Happy Birthday to me.
I mentioned that I'd been to Switzerland and Austria, and that I'd love to go to Germany one day. One of the guys responded by saying that the Swiss and Austrians only try to speak German.
When we hit a lull, I started talking to my Welsh friend. While swapping funny stories about our students, one of the Germans offered me a piece of chewy ginseng candy. I accepted the gift, even though I don't think they taste very good, and thanked him. After finishing it, I continued my conversation. Then they all laughed, saying they wished that would have shut me up. My attempt at a friendly conversation with my fellow foreigners was a failure. I was silent from embarrassment for the remainder of the trip.
I was taking a bus from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap during my Cambodia vacation in February 2014. I sat across from two beautiful girls from London (the redhead was born in Ireland). We were exchanging travel stories for about the first half of this six-hour trip. There was an older woman sitting in front of me, and looking through the space between the two seat-backs, I could see she was reading a travel book in German. Apparently I was once again enrapt in conversation to the point of not being aware of the volume of my voice. I assumed everybody must be talking to somebody. After all, people have loud conversations on planes. There was loud street noise and we were driving on old bumpy dirt roads. Surely nobody was attempting to sleep. It's not like we were in the study room of a library. But once again, someone from Germany was tired of hearing me speak to someone from the UK.
She turned around and asked if I worked for CNN. Confused, I said no, I'm an English teacher. Then she hit me with the punchline: "Oh, because you're really loud."
The girls asked me what happened, and I whispered that we need to be quiet on the bus. They both promptly took a nap.
We pulled over somewhere for a lunch and bathroom break. Each individual stall was like a little wooden closet with a hole in the ground instead of an actual toilet. There was a cafeteria-style dining area. None of the food looked appealing to me, so I shopped at the fruit stand. I bought a bunch of bananas for one US dollar.
There were steers wondering around, and I thought that I also heard stray cats. If the cattle here aren't fenced in anywhere, seeing wild cats wouldn't be surprising. But I never saw any. Just as everybody started to board the bus, the German woman approached me said I have to go check out this bird. I saw the bird cage she pointed to, and I knelt in front of it. There was a small black bird inside. There were no cats. The bird said "Meow." It didn't make a sound similar to cats. This bird literally said the word "Meow." It also told me "Hi." I was mesmerized. By the time I turned my phone on to record a video of this, I had to get back on the bus.
Three days later I visited a village on my 26th birthday. That night I decided I would try something new and crazy to celebrate my new age. I had been curious about trying bugs, since it was something people did in Southeast Asia--locals for the protein, and tourists for the novelty. So I found a food cart that sold crickets, beetles, ants, tarantulas, and snakes. I thought the crickets and beetles would probably have the most unpleasant texture, and ants were too small. Tarantulas and snakes were only 75 cents each. I figured if they were gross, I wouldn't lose much. So I bought one tarantula and one snake. The snake was on a wooden stick like a kabob. It was about a foot long. Due to the dried skin and cartilage, I had to eat it like beef jerky. The taste was also similar to beef jerky. I didn't hate it, but I'm not a fan of gnawing on dried reptile skin. The tarantula was black, almost the size of my hand, and a bit greasy. I didn't want to taste the guts, so I didn't even attempt to eat the body. I plucked the legs off like flower petals.
When I started snacking on my spider, the German woman who mistook me for a newscaster showed up. She approached me as if we were complete strangers to tell me how entertaining it was to watch my face as the hairy barbecued legs inched their way down my throat. She also congratulated me on being so brave. She didn't ask if I would be reporting this on the news later. No jokes about the cat-bird. No jokes at all. She was just being friendly. She didn't hate me, or even remember me. The tae-kwon-do Germans probably don't remember that annoying American they gave the shut-up candy to either.
I thanked her.
She waved goodbye.
I finished my serving of spider legs. Something new. Something crazy.
Happy Birthday to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)