one degree north

While it’s not always easy to stay in touch with our families from abroad—Singapore is at least 12 hours ahead of the East Coast, and 15 from the West, depending on daylight savings—we both were lucky enough to have our parents fly around the world to visit this year. I could barely get my parents across the bridge to Brooklyn before I moved! But really, it’s unlikely that we would have otherwise spent a week vacationing with each family this year and a third week all together in Canada. Quality over quantity. See how I turned that around?

Andrew’s parents, Kirk and Sue, had a tough trip from California into Singapore in February due to bad weather in Japan, and arrived more than a day later than expected. Although our time in the red dot was brief, we packed it full of sightseeing (always easier said than done in Singaporean heat) and good food. And then: Laos!

We’d been looking forward to this trip not just because we’d catch up with Andrew’s parents, or even that we would be staying in much (much, much) nicer accommodation than we were used to, but because we’d have a personal tour guide in Sue. In 1974, she took a six-month leave from Pan Am to work for a community development foundation in Laos after America’s so-called “Secret War.” Today, Laos is still one of the least developed places I’ve ever traveled (though there’s a well-worn backpacker and even upscale visitor path), and back then it was truly remote. Sue brought amazing photographs that she took during her time there that were a window into daily life in post-conflict Laos. Like Cambodia, it’s heartbreaking to think about what Laos might be like today if it hadn’t gotten caught in the crosshairs of the Vietnam War.

Our first stop was the capital of Vientiane, where Sue was based during her time away from the small village she worked in during the week. While Vientiane now boasts (mostly) paved roads, it’s still a really small city without much going on. Travelers typically use it as a quick stopover on their way in and out of the country, but it’s worth a day or two to poke around. It had some of the best and cheapest craft and textile shopping I’ve encountered, a lively restaurant scene with a lot of French influence, and some memorable group aerobics classes down by the Mekong.

Our pretty hotel pool

Enjoying non-hostel comforts

The massive Patuxai “Victory Gate” is also worth seeing, if only for the bizarre signage and backstory. In the 1950s, the US government donated the concrete to Laos for airport construction, but instead the concrete was used to make a monument celebrating Lao independence from France. Everyone refers to it as the Vertical Runway. There’s also some dark irony going on as it looks just like the Arc de Triomphe, and shortly thereafter, Laos was engaged in combat with America.

For me, the most memorable part of our time in Vientiane was visiting COPE (Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise), a nonprofit that has a small but very impactful museum about Laos’s ongoing struggle with the unexploded ordinances (also called UXO or “bombies”) dropped by the US in the late 60s and early 70s during the Secret War in conjunction with the Vietnam War. Two million tons of bombs were dropped by the US, making Laos the most-bombed country per capita ever. Unfathomably, people still die every day in Laos due to UXO, most of them children. Numbers are finally dropping due to efforts by organizations like COPE to educate locals and disarm UXO… but only something like 1% of UXO have been diffused. It’s awful.

While the museum was harrowing, it was extremely eye-opening to the ongoing impact of US involvement in Southeast Asia. I wish more Americans knew literally anything about this! The museum also made a strong case against buying any souvenirs or jewelry out of old found military metals in Southeast Asia, as it encourages local people to seek out objects that could be deadly. I’ve never seen this case made elsewhere and it’s something that should be better communicated to tourists.

From Vientiane, we flew further north to Luang Prabang, a small temple-filled town on the Mekong that is the main tourism hub in Laos. It’s incredibly charming, with monks walking around everywhere, French cafes overlooking the river, and huge mountain peaks in the distance. It also seems to be a love-it-or-leave-it destination for backpackers, some of whom find it too sleepy to justify a hop into a new country. It’s true that there’s not a lot to pack your schedule with here, but I was taken in by Luang Prabang’s slow pace. We spent lots of time biking along the river, eating fresh baguettes and pâté, and shopping at the awesome night market.

Also, did I mention that the hotel we stayed in, Satri House, is maybe the most picturesque place I’ve ever stayed? No mosquito nets or squat toilets here! It spoiled us for the rest of our travels this year. Plus, we actually relaxed! Readers familiar with a Rakowski family “vacation” know that they typically involve 5 AM wake ups to ski/fish/hike. Traveling Dryden-style was a delight. Kirk, Sue, count me in next time too.

That said, one of my favorite activities in Luang Prabang did require a very early alarm clock: Andrew and I got up before sunrise one day to see the local Buddhist monks receive alms. Single-file lines of monks in bright orange robes walk down the streets at dawn, in order of age, holding out bowls. Townspeople give each monk one ball of rice as an offering, which is also their breakfast.

I’m cringing a bit at these photos because I’ve gotten a lot better with my camera since. But, it was still an iconic and beautiful sight, only partially ruined by Chinese tourists jumping in front of the monks with their camera phones. Any leftover alms are deposited along the top of the temple walls, and hilariously, locals will casually snack on these rice balls throughout the day.

Another highlight of Luang Prabang was a day trip up the Mekong River on a riverboat with the whole crew (including, in true Southeast Asia style, the boat captain’s family!). I had only ever thought of the Mekong as it appears in Apocalypse Now, as a swampy delta. Up in Laos, it’s a huge, flowing river fringed by giant mountain peaks. At the halfway point, we made a stop at a group of Buddhist temples set into caves and left small offerings.

One of my regrets about our backpacking trip this summer is that we didn’t make it back to Laos. Given that it’s so rural, it takes some time to traverse by boat and bus, and we just didn’t have an extra week or two that it deserves. Like Sue, it will be at the top of my list when I make my first visit back.

After an epic ten days in Myanmar over the holidays, we were both worn out on adventure travel and busily settling into life in Singapore. I was working around the clock on a local project for a few months, and we suddenly remembered what it was like to be real people with limited days off. This period also coincided with the local rainy season and Chinese New Year, which is when everyone in Asia takes vacation, and prices for flights and hotels soar.

None of this was going to stop us from exploring, though. Our solution was to plan a few close-range trips. One weekend we took the ferry to Bintan, Indonesia (not chronicled here as we mostly sat under a mosquito net in our beach shack as it poured rain). But another, far happier weekend in February, we spend the last night of Chinese New Year on Penang island, just off the west coast of Malaysia. We took the expat weekend warrior title seriously, flying in early on a Saturday morning and out on a Sunday night. New York Times Travel Section, eat your heart out.

Penang, like Singapore, has a long history of Straits Chinese settlement as it was a strategic shipping port between India and Asia. The result is an island anchored by a capital, George Town, that is more Chinese/Buddhist influenced than most of Muslim-majority Malaysia: it has beautiful temples, colorful shophouses, lots of street art, and an amazing blend of cuisines. The entire George Town downtown is one giant UNESCO World Heritage site. It felt like a friendlier, quirkier, and much cheaper Singapore.

Our guesthouse, Carnarvon House, was a classic George Town shophouse run by a friendly Malaysian family. They also made us a delicious curry in the morning for breakfast! I guess you know you live in Asia when that sounds appealing.

After dropping our bags, we walked around taking in the main sights: entire villages clustered on jetties in the harbor, beautiful Khoo Kongsi temple, street art, cute shopping areas, and Chinese New Year decorations and offerings.

Khoo Kongsi temple ranks among my favorite temples I’ve been to (and readers will know… we’ve been to a LOT of temples). The incredible hand-painted lanterns and detailed murals are worth the trip to George Town alone.

Penang is famous for its street food, so that night we headed to a local hawker and had our fill of dumplings, laksa, and satay washed down with some Tiger beer. Alcohol was cheaply available everywhere, which is a big difference from much of the rest of the country and added a (tame) backpacker bar scene that we weren’t expecting. After dinner, we walked to George Town’s most famous coffee shop, China House, where they have literally about a hundred kinds of cakes on display. For those that don’t drink, coffee shop culture is huge. And have I mentioned that sampling food is a national pastime in Malaysia?

In the morning, we strolled through the local Sunday market before checking out the Pinang Peranakan Mansion, a lavish Straits Chinese house museum. This outrageously gilded house of a wealthy Chinese family from the turn of the century did not disappoint. Highlights included “old-fashioned CCTV,” a system of mirrors set up around the house so that the rich/corrupt head of the family could always see behind him. It was pretty much the Scarface mansion of Penang, complete with the balcony and pool.

Before heading to the airport, we had time for one last meal, so we chose a Peranakan café, Jawi House, for lemuni rice (cooked with blue tualang flowers) and prawns. Lazat! Properly stuffed, we (reluctantly) flew back to Singapore.

Penang has a great mix of colonial charm, local food, and international savvy, not to mention some great hikes and beaches outside of George Town. After living in super-sterile Singapore, it was also a welcome reminder of how art and music can breathe some life into a city, and how heritage can be preserved while still making way for modern life. Weekend warrior rating: 5/5 bowls of laksa.

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And by the way… time for a life update! We left Singapore a few weeks ago (in July) after Andrew’s year-long contract ended. Due to some corporate merging, we found out that his position out here wouldn’t be renewed. He considered staying on in a new role at the Singapore office, but ultimately, we felt like the timing was right to leave at the end of our lease, focus on travel, and (slowly, reluctantly) make out way back to the states. We’re both open to other opportunities in Asia, but it didn’t make sense to keep our very tiny and very expensive apartment in Singapore while we figured it all out.

Therefore… we’re now mobile until at least the end of September! We have a lot of travel planned, which I will eventually chronicle here. In the meantime, I’m working on a few remote projects and hope to also blog through the travel backlog as I go.

Here’s our travel calendar:

• Mid July: Borneo and Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
• Late July: Sri Lanka
• Late July / Early August: Bangkok and Chiang Mai, Thailand
• Early August: Hanoi, Bai Tu Long Bay, Ninh Bihn, Hoi An, and Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
• Mid August: Yogyakarta, Lombok, and the Gili Islands, Indonesia
• Late August: Singapore
• Early September: Hong Kong
• Mid September: Japan (itinerary TBD, but starting in Osaka, Kyoto, and ending in Tokyo with maybe a few other stops)
• Late September: a soft landing in Hawaii, followed by a one-way ticket to San Francisco, California…
• ?

A few weeks before our trip to Myanmar, I told my cousin Ellen that I had been inspired to put the country at the top of our list after watching Anthony Bourdain traipse around Bagan. “Yeah, but on which show?” she asked. “No Reservations, or are we talking Parts Unknown?”

It was definitely Parts Unknown. And Myanmar, though tourism has skyrocketed since it expanded its tourist visa program in 2014, is still a place mostly unknown to the rest of the globe. I have never been to a country so isolated from the contemporary developed world, and after witnessing the influx of Westernization during our travels, I suspect I never will again. Everyone we’ve met who had been urged us to go, and NOW. I seriously had a conversation with someone after we first moved to Singapore who told me that Myanmar would be barely worth visiting in December, since that was the month they were opening up visas to an expanded list of countries.

But I don’t believe that travel is a race, and I have become wary of people who tell you that places are spoiled and that you really should have been there a decade ago. Sure, there’s a lot of terrible scorched-earth development in Southeast Asia, but this attitude glorifies a past that isn’t always rosy. (I’m in Cambodia right now and this particularly irks me here. “You totally should have been here right after the genocide, it was sooo cheap!”)

But ethics are often muddled out here anyway. Is it even ethical to travel to Myanmar, where the majority of our tourist dollars will at best, support a crony-based system in which forced labor is used to create infrastructure, and at worse, prop up a ruling party currently carrying out a genocide? Similarly, should we call Myanmar “Burma,” a name assigned by British colonizers? Or “Myanmar,” a name that an abusive military junta decided on instead?

You probably just want to read about our trip here. But like so much of Southeast Asia, the more you get to know a place, the more confusing things become. All I can say is that while this trip was not always easy or even pleasant, I think it will endure as our most memorable.

YANGON

We arrived in Yangon on Christmas Eve, and before we even left the airport, we were surrounded by Burmese people in traditional dress: longi (sarongs tied differently depending on gender) and white-yellow thanaka face paint (mostly on women and children). A full outfit of western clothes is rare to be seen, even here in the capital city.

One taxi ride later, we were checked into our guesthouse which is also a cycle shop: Bike World B&B, part of a Christmas surprise I planned for Andrew. The other part of the surprise is that the owners (a Burmese woman and Australian man) have a golden retriever! I’d seen photos online and Andrew quickly bonded with his new Burmese buddy. Goldens are uncommon out here in Asia, so this was a little Christmas miracle.

The guesthouse was near the university area and Lake Inya, made famous as the neighborhood in which politician Aung San Suu Kyi was held in house arrest for 15 years. We watched the sunset from the lake shore with hundreds of local picnickers (every single sunset and sunrise we saw in Myanmar was amazing) before hopping in a cab to downtown Yangon, braving the chaotic traffic full of drivers sitting on the left and driving on the right. (How can they see anything?!) We ate at simple vegetarian Indian restaurant that our guidebook recommended for dinner. While we’re probably more adjusted to local foods out here than regular tourists, we’d been vigorously warned against street food in Myanmar, where sanitation can be “variable.”

After dinner, we walked to a cocktail bar called Blind Tiger, which offered a welcome sanctuary from the din outside. Unexpectedly for a country of over 90% Buddhists, the bar was fully done up for Christmas, with twinkly lights, Nat King Cole crooning, and eggnog specials. It hadn’t really felt like the holidays for me in Singapore, so this is the first time I felt truly festive. The bartending staff was delighted that actual celebrants had found their way in, and poured us an extra round. Back at the guesthouse, our hosts had left us a special homemade Christmas fruitcake. Overall we both cite this as one of our favorite nights of our time abroad.

The next day (Christmas!) was our full day in Yangon. We headed back downtown to the enormous Bogyoke Market, one of the largest and most lively of all Asian markets we’ve experienced out here. First thing’s first, we purchased and donned two longi. I also bought a jade ring that I love, which might be fake, but only set me back about fifty cents.

We then strolled to Sule Pagoda and to Maha Bandula Park, which is where we swiftly became celebrities. It’s rare that locals ask for a picture with us in Southeast Asia, especially given that we both have dark hair and eyes. (Blonde or red-haired travelers I’ve met are still mobbed, often not by locals but by Chinese tourists.) But Yangon is a place where many Burmese people from non-tourist areas travel for family or business, and Westerners are still an exciting sight. One group of women asking for pictures turned into two groups, then three, then a line started forming…

In making our escape and begging Christian obligations, we ran into a historic cathedral next to the park. We sat down for part of a Burmese Christmas mass that, in Andrew’s words, featured new words to the same great tunes.

After mixed success in tracking down a few contemporary art galleries around Yangon, we ended the day at the Shwedagon Pagoda, which for me was one of the highlights of our trip. The massive golden stupa towers over the city almost like the Eiffel Tower, and it did not disappoint in person. We joined hundreds of other Burmese people and monks to circle the tower barefoot and in longis. At one point, we were flagged down by a very eager class of university students who asked if we would practice English with them. These sort of interactions were very common everywhere we went in Myanmar and also allowed us to learn a lot about local life, though they always ended with us having to make excuses to end the session!

Not sure why, but some worshippers swept the ground as they walked.

We exited through the gigantic Peoples Park and watched another impressive red sunset. That night, we walked to a neighborhood Indian restaurant that was highly recommended by our guesthouse. For some reason they sat us in our own private room. Our Christmas dinner was a tandoori feast, and probably the best meal of the trip.

MANDALAY

After surviving our first domestic flight experience the next morning—surprisingly nice, small planes supplied by government cronies, but weird boarding processes involving passengers donning color-coded stickers—we had a long, hot taxi ride into downtown Mandalay. Our hotel was nothing special, but came with air con and a private bathroom: the toilet directly under the showerhead, all in the same tiny tiled room. Yay? After a quick lunch at a café, we hired a taxi driver for the rest of the day for an epic lineup of temples including the Royal Palace, Kuthodaw Pagoda, and my favorite, the wooden Shwenandaw Monastery. Many of these sights appear in a novel that Andrew and I both read—The Glass Palace by Amitav Ghosh—which I highly recommend if you like historical fiction.

The day ended with a long, sweaty, barefoot climb to the top of Mandalay Hill, passing through dozens of small temples along the way, where we were rewarded with awesome sunset views, beautiful mirrored and tiled shrines, and… more students requesting English lessons! One of the final temples on the climb was called Snake Pavilion, and it lived up to its name when a black snake appeared and began climbing the stairs alongside worshippers and tourists. Several of the female vendors selling snacks snapped into action and began rushing the snake with their brooms, eventually “sweeping” the snake off the side of the temple onto the cliffs below.

The day ended on a somewhat annoying note when we had to argue with our taxi driver over payment despite setting a price earlier, and then he angrily refused to take an American bill that had a tiny, and I mean tiny, tear in one corner. As we learned, anything other than absolutely pristine American money is not accepted. But, we made up for it with a cosy dinner at a nearby expat haunt, enjoying the first Western food of the trip. (I’m pretty sure my burger had yogurt on it as a condiment, but hey.)

IRRAWADDY RIVER

Following a very early wakeup call and taxi to the jetty, we boarded a small riverboat for our 9-hour float down the Irrawaddy River to Bagan. We could have taken a bus or flown, but we’d heard that traveling by boat was a good way to see life outside of the tourist areas. There were probably 20 other tourists on the boat (the locals take a cheaper open-air boat) and we claimed chairs on the top deck, though we also had seats in the air-conditioned cabin. After watching the sunrise as we pulled out of Mandalay, we were served a breakfast of boiled eggs, tea, and toast. The first part of the trip was the most scenic, as we passed towns on the hillside with golden stupas and farms with animals and villagers down on the riverbanks. Scenic, but it was clear that there was serious poverty in these rural areas.

Some hours later, lunch was fried rice, veggies, fruit, and tea. The afternoon moved more slowly as we mostly passed muddy riverbanks, but many podcasts, books, and card games later, we caught our first exciting glimpse of the temples of Bagan in the distance. It was unclear how far away our guesthouse, Thante Nyaung U Hotel, was from the jetty, so we paid a few dollars for a “taxi”… which was a horse-drawn carriage. As you may recall from my Cambodia post, Andrew apparently has a severe horse allergy. He sneezed for the rest of the night and even broke out in hives from where he touched the reigns. Neigh to more horse carts. We turned in early to get up the next morning well before sunrise– a theme for almost every day of the trip.

BAGAN

Our two full days in Bagan followed the same schedule: wake up in the dark, hop on electric scooters and zip into the plain, catch sunrise over 2,000 temples, roam around exploring, back to town for lunch, naps, a swim, and re-charging the bikes, then back out around 4 PM for more temples and sunset, and an early dinner in town. You could do this for weeks and not see all of the temples, each of which is very guarded by a family that will often appear out of nowhere to unlock it for you. Once unlocked, ditch your shoes at the door, grab your flashlight, and explore. Often the guardians function as friendly guides, pointing out interesting wall paintings or staircases to the roof for a view (for a small tip).

It’s a very different experience than Angkor Wat: individually, the brick stupas and temples aren’t as impressive, but taken as a whole and given the absolutely unreal scale, you can spend the day almost by yourself. There are some more notable and important temples that we visited alongside tour groups, and the sites known for sunrise/sunset get crowded as well. But given that most of the temples are off tiny dirt lanes where nary a Chinese tour bus can travel, the overall experience is far more peaceful (albeit super dusty).

Unsurprisingly, this free-wheeling approach is likely to change, and soon. From a conservation perspective, this is wise. But it really was special to jet around on our own bikes, clambering around stupas and discovering little gems along the way.

INLE LAKE

Our third morning in Bagan, we hopped another flight to the mountain town of Heho (have I mentioned that this entire trip comprised EIGHT plane flights?!) where we were greeted by the usual taxi touts. One man approached to discuss fares to Nyaung Shwe, which is the gateway to Inle Lake and about an hour’s drive. Did we want a $20 taxi, or a $25 taxi? “Um… a $20 taxi?” we replied. With that, he tossed our bags in the back of a pick-up truck and indicated that we should climb in after them. This is a pretty common way to travel around Asia, but it was our first time riding on a wooden bench on the back of a truck. No, it’s not safe. But it is fun! And it had the added benefit of fresh air, which was a great anti-nausea remedy to a long drive on twisty and bumpy mountain roads. (Motion sickness is my constant challenge as we travel. Sea Bands, sponsor this blog!)

While we were planning this trip, my former MoMA colleague and work bestie Scott was planning his own Southeast Asia trip during his business school winter break. At some point, we realized that of all places, we were both going to be in Myanmar at the same time. This is how I happily reunited with Scott at a café in Nyaung Shwe. It also ended up being incredibly lucky that we met up, since we later came to believe that at said café Andrew ate something that would violently disagree with him for the rest of our time in Inle, and Scott became my new sightseeing buddy.

Nyaung Shwe doesn’t have much to recommend it, though the giant market was one of the liveiest and least touristy we’ve seen in Asia. From there, we hopped on our first longboat up the lake to our hotel. Since it was New Year’s Eve the next night, we had decided to splurge by staying on the lake, which is huge and absolutely beautiful. Again, this turned out to be a lucky coincidence, as Andrew would have been pretty miserable condemned to a shared bathroom at a guesthouse…

After settling into the hotel, the three of us hopped on bikes and rode about an hour along the lakeside to a winery. Yes, really: Myanmar produces surprisingly decent wines. And the views didn’t hurt!

We all turned in early in anticipation of a long day of sightseeing in the morning, but Andrew’s night didn’t go exactly as planned. Throughout all of our travels, this has been the one time that one of us was really ill. It was pretty scary thinking about worst-case scenarios, given our location. Thankfully, the worst was over by mid-morning, so Scott and I decided to head out to explore Inle Lake anyway, by hiring a boat for the rest of the day. YOLO.

Morning mist on the lake

Floating village

Morning market

Making lotus silk

Longis for sale

Scott enjoying the Men’s Only area of a temple without me

Temple offerings

Oranges for sale

More floating villages

Fisherman on the lake balance on one leg, row with the other leg, and use both hands for their fishing net!

Floating farms

After a long day sightseeing on the water, we spent the tamest New Year’s Eve ever at the hotel, all of us exhausted. The next day we said our goodbyes to Scott and reversed the long journey back to Singapore: taxi, plane, plane, plane, and taxi. (If I had planned this trip now, I would have ended with time in Yangon to cut down on the extra flight!)

This was definitely one of those trips where you need a vacation after your vacation (especially poor Andrew, battling horse allergies and food poisoning). It took me literally weeks and weeks to plan and it wasn’t easy to find a middle ground between dorm-room backpacking and ultra-luxury travel. In Bagan, for instance, options for housing ranged from $15 to $1,500 a night with very little in between.

But I am so glad we spent the time to really travel around Myanmar and see the beautiful countryside, overwhelming number of temples, and unique local life, which is changing so rapidly. It’s an enourmous and diverse place, and still stands far apart from the rest of Southeast Asia. I say grab your backpack, alarm clock, some Immodium, and see it for yourself.

Our trip to Langkawi, “the Jewel of Kedah” and an island off the west coast of Malaysia along the Thai border, happened in large part because Andrew eyed our fall travel calendar (temples, temples, and more temples) and asked hopefully if we could fit in a beach weekend. It was the first time we actually did what people imagine we do every weekend: plug dates into a flight tracker and buy cheap, last-minute flights to a white sand beach.

It all sounds pretty glamorous until I tell you that these cheap flights involved very late layovers in the Kuala Lumpur airport (pre-North Korean oligarch assassination) and that it poured rain the whole weekend. Also, I got stung by a jellyfish. Even so, we went into this trip with no real expectations and were wowed by this small, lush island full of Wholesome Malaysian Family Fun that felt miles away from the touristy chaos of Thailand or Bali.

Had it been a sunny weekend, we probably wouldn’t have ventured too far beyond our cute guesthouse on Tanjung Rhu beach, on the northern shore of Langkawi. Our simple, whitewashed room opened directly onto one of the most scenic beaches I’ve ever seen (or at least it looked like it through the rain). While Labu Labi Resort is a bit off the beaten track for tourism, it does have a café next door improbably named Scarborough Fish N’ Chips. The food wasn’t particularly great but, thrillingly for Malaysia, they both served beer and had an adorable resident dog. (One thing I never knew before moving here is that dogs are sometimes considered haram, not that you want to be cuddling street dogs anyway.)

But given that the weather Friday through Sunday morning ranged from downpours to persistent drizzle, we spent most of our time away from the beach exploring the island by motorbike. Langkawi is a UNESCO World Heritage Geopark, and the beaches and highways are refreshingly trash-free. It remains to be the only place in Southeast Asia other than Singapore where I’ve seen signs telling people not to litter. A good thing too, since you can spot interesting wildlife right off the road, like the spooky-looking and disconcertingly large Dusky Leaf Monkeys.

Our first stop after the rain mostly subsided on Friday was the worrisomely named Durian Falls. Happily, there was no stinky fruit, just groups of locals and local tourists enjoying the falls, BBQ, splashing around fully clothed, and other kinds of Wholesome Malaysian Family Fun (WMFF). I think Malaysia gets an undeservedly bad rap from Western tourists. While it’s true that you won’t be downing flaming shots at a Full Moon Party, the food, culture, and nature are on par with anything else you’ll find in Southeast Asia, and probably without the crowds. Plus, I find WMFF really endearing. There’s a lot of picnicking, group selfies, and sober karaoke.

That night, we motored over to the weekly night market in the nearest town, which was an interesting and delicious blend of Malay and Thai influences. We munched on seafood noodles in paper cones, fried chicken, samosas, and shredded papaya salad while strolling around stalls piled high with everything from durian to Frozen merchandise. (Yes, Frozen and the minions etc. have made it to this part of the world, often as cheap knock-offs, to hilarious effect.)

Durian season!

Scoop-your-own nuts.

When the next morning, Saturday, dawned gray and wet, we said goodbye to any hope of a beach day and decided hire a boat at the nearby port to take us on a mangrove tour of the Geoforest Park. The tour was more interesting than we anticipated, with stops to observe monkeys, Malaysian brown eagles, caves full of bats, and a local fish farm.

After a quick lunch of fried rice on the beach near the port, we decided to go on another long motorbike ride up to the peak of Mt. Raya, which is nearly 900 meters or 2,900 feet. We zipped by monkeys and waterfalls, making stops along the way to take in the view, read the amusingly translated plaques, and add layers as the temperature dropped. The top was almost completely socked in with thick fog, obscuring the highest vistas. Five stars rating for my driver.

But by the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, the rain had finally stopped. We celebrated with a beach walk to a nearby hotel for a cocktail, followed by… you guessed it… dinner at Scarborough Fish N’ Chips. I believe we clocked in about six meals there, which would be the drawback of a remote guesthouse. Again, we were REALLY glad they served beer. And had a dog friend for us.

Of course, Sunday brought the sunny beach day we’d been hoping for… and we were determined to make the most of it before heading to the airport. By now we were thoroughly sick of everything in Tanjung Rhu (ahem Fish N’ Chips ahem), so we stuffed towels into our backpack, jumped on the motorbike, and headed to the west coast of the island and Cenang Beach. While lovely, this area was far more built up and we were glad we decided to stay on the quiet north side of the island.

Just a few minutes after finally diving into the beautiful clear waters, a bee stung me on my leg. But my leg was underwater. In that split second, it didn’t make sense. Then the bee stung me again, and I finally understood what was going on. “JELLYFISH!!” I screamed to two uncomprehending locals wearing head-to-toe clothing nearby. (Wait, maybe they were onto something there besides religious modesty.) I swam/sprinted towards shore and examined the damage: about 6 tendrils of hives had already formed on my leg.

After the initial pain subsided and I applied some vinegar, the sting was more itchy and annoying than anything, and faded in a few days. UNTIL THE HIVES CAME BACK EVEN WORSE A MONTH LATER. Seriously, how creepy is that?! That’s how the jellyfish toxins work. They’re basically aliens living in our seas. Andrew has hypothesized that they were drawn to my white leg, which they mistook for prey.

I’m telling you, you learn all kinds of things living out here.

Despite the downpours, the fog, the soggy chips, and my delightful jellyfish souvenir, we would both jump at the chance to go back to Langkawi. Even in the rain, it was beautiful. It reminded us both of Hawaii, which we all know is high praise. So the next time there’s sun in the forecast and a cheap fare on Skyscanner, maybe we’ll see you on those white sand beaches again. Just remember to BYOB and V (vinegar).

Amazing shells everywhere!

Blue skys for about an hour…

As a kid, I had a picture book about the ancient wonders of the world, filled with watercolors of famous sites like the pyramids, the Roman Colosseum, and the Greek Acropolis. The last pages, in a cursory nod to the Exotic East, featured something new: the awe-inspiring jungle kingdom of Angkor Wat. Though I went on to study classics, theology, and art history, my education on the world’s largest and most spectacular religious monument could easily have ended with these few pages in a children’s book. (Nothing like moving to Southeast Asia to make you look back in horror on the parameters of your Western education.) But luckily, it didn’t.

Angkor Wat is perhaps the most popular tourist attraction in Southeast Asia, which is not necessarily a point in its favor. However, compare seeing the temples of Angkor to seeing the Grand Canyon: it is one of the few iconic sites that doesn’t disappoint as a tourist. Yes, there will be crowds, including plenty of dreaded Bus Tour Groups With Flags. Your heart will be broken by little kids saying that they will go back to school if only you buy their postcards. It will be roastingly hot and dusty, oppressively humid, or a mud pit in a monsoon. But the temples really are extraordinary, the countryside is surprisingly beautiful, and really, Cambodia just has a way of getting under your skin.

Our mid-November trip was inevitably colored by current events: my parents flew into Singapore just days after the US presidential election. While I may have had modicum more of preparedness for the outcome than the average coastal liberal, given that I’d spoken to so many terrified expats about Brexit and the rise of the far right in Europe all fall, the results still left me extremely depressed. And now, a trip to Cambodia! It is difficult to think of a country with a more horrific recent political history. Having traveled through Poland, I know how intense this kind of tourism can be. Was it too late to fly to a beach for the week? Isn’t that what normal people enjoy out here?

After a few days of sight-seeing with our intrepid first visitors in Singapore, we flew to Siem Reap, the small city close to Angkor Wat, on a Wednesday afternoon. Siem Reap is a study in contrasts, with ox carts pulling past Michelin-starred restaurants. We settled into our apartment-style suite at Chateau d‘Angkor La Residence, a hotel in the French quarter. The layout was ideal for a group, and the suite had a kitchenette and washing machine perfect for après-temples. We wasted no time getting into the local fusion vibe, hailing a tuk-tuk to take us to a French bistro. (Real) Cheese? Wine (not from a box)? All for the price of a Singaporean hawker meal?! Andrew was so excited that he treated my parents to dinner. Hey, maybe Cambodia was une bonne idée.

The next morning we met our local guide, Savourn, who like every Cambodian we met, spoke perfect English and was unbelievably cheerful, even while fielding endless questions from the likes of the Rakowski family. We sprung for a guide with an air-conditioned car, which all of the travel guides make seem like a such a luxury, but which came out to about $15/per person per day, saved us a huge amount of time, and helped us avoid heatstroke. Andrew and I probably would have hired a cheap tuk-tuk if we were visiting Angkor Wat alone, but seriously, please ignore the advice that you should rent a bicycle. The area is vast, the roads are crap, and it will be a humid 100 degrees by 8 am.

Our itinerary for two-days of temples was as follows:

Day 1: Small Circuit
Angkor Thom: South Gate, Bayon, Baphuon, Terrace of the Elephants
Ta Prohm
Angkor Wat

South Gate of Angkor Thom

Bayon

Bayon

Bayon

Bayon

My parents with Savourn in front of Baphuon

Baphuon

Back of Baphuon (spot the reclining Buddah!)

Terrace of the Elephants

Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat

View from the top of Angkor Wat

Day 2: Grand Circuit + Banteay Srei
Pre Rup
Eastern Mabon
Neak Pean
Ta Som
Preah Khan
Banteay Srei

Pre Rup

Eastern Mabon: traditional restoration

Eastern Mabon

Ta Som

Ta Som

Neak Pean

Neak Pean

Preah Khan

The temples were all incredibly different in person, ranging from massive complexes to tucked-away shrines, but my favorites were Bayon, Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, and Neak Pean (not so much the temple, which is flooded and mostly underwater, but the setting). Andrew’s favorite was Baphuon for the view.

We’d stagger back to our hotel in the late afternoon and head straight for the pool, then tuk-tuk into downtown for one amazing dinner after another. $4 hour-long foot massages, homemade pastas, a lively bar scene with 50 cent beers, great elephant pants shopping… there’s a reason that people fly to Siem Reap and never see the temples. It’s a really cool and also extremely inexpensive town, two things that don’t always go together around here. A highlight was our dinner at Wat Damnak, a French-Cambodian fusion restaurant that made amazing use of local ingredients in everything from the cocktails to the desserts.

Thoroughly templed-out, we spent Friday morning in Siem Reap at the satisfyingly chaotic Old Market and craft markets before saying goodbye to my parents, who flew back to NYC by way of Singapore and Japan. Carol and Tom get a gold star for this trip, we really had a blast traveling with them. As you may have heard, they earned their stripes as travelers on an Africa safari in 2015. Seriously, it is not a casual trip out to this side of the world, only to spend most of it trekking through the oven-like outdoors over crumbling ruins. I hope I can keep doing this sort of travel for another 30+ years!

Tuk tuk to the market

Dried… squid?…at the market

Later that afternoon, Andrew and I left Siem Reap for the village of Chrey thom, about 10 kms outside of the city, for Angkor Rural Boutique Resort and a change of scenery. Along with Daisy Resort in Phu Quoc, Vietnam, this gem has become a standard by which we measure every place we stay. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, eco-friendly, and staffed by locals who bent over backwards to be helpful and welcoming. We also ate some of our best meals in Southeast Asia in their kitchen, which had a simple menu based on the expansive garden across the street from the hotel. Cambodian food is SO good, lots of curry and seafood but with less heat than Thai. The resort is also run by a Cambodian woman, Sokun, who employs local villagers in Chrey thom and trains them in hospitality and crafts, which she also sells onsite. And if you weren’t already sold: there were kittens.

Angkor Rural Boutique Resort

Angkor Rural Boutique Resort

view of the village rice paddies

village welcoming committee

The hotel also had bikes, which we hopped on right away to explore the village and surrounding rice paddies, barely making it back before an epic thunderstorm set in. Here we were, two white tourists in shorts biking through someone else’s fragile livelihood, in the poorest community I’ve ever seen, which by the way also survived an unimaginable genocide barely thirty years ago, and people came out of every single house we passed to warmly greet us. It’s impossible not to be moved.

That night we went to Phare, the fun-for-all-ages Cambodian circus that seems to be a big source of pride in the area. It’s all acrobatics, dance, and music without animals, so it’s bit like a mini Cirque du Soleil. Phare has a social mission and the circus performers are all graduates of their nonprofit school for the arts, which creates opportunity for local students and artists. The acrobatics were jaw-dropping, and the local musicians were a blast. I highly recommend going, especially if you can get there early enough not sit behind a tent pole like we did.

Embracing Southeast Asia’s unofficial motto of “same same but different,” we decided to mix it up on Saturday by visiting Happy Ranch Horse Farm and taking a long horseback ride through the ride paddies, villages, and to a remote Angkor temple. I love riding, it’s such a great way to see a landscape that isn’t easy to traverse on foot and I am very comfortable on a horse. (I think it’s my Texas Ranger blood.) It also brings me great joy to be better at than Andrew at anything remotely athletic or outdoorsy, and horseback riding is one of the few things in this category. Andrew’s first time on a horse was on our honeymoon in Hawaii, and this might be his last. The tour itself was great– if hot once the sun was up– but Andrew started sneezing about halfway in, and was covered in hives by the time we made it back to the barn. There may have been some schadenfreude on my part, since I am allergic to dogs and am mercilessly teased for it. (To tempt you to subscribe to my blog: Andrew’s horse-induced allergy attack Part II will be chronicled in a forthcoming Myanmar post.)

After some recovery time at the pool that afternoon and feasting on a final meal at Angkor Rural Boutique Resort (where the staff treated us to a special candlelit farewell dinner), we made a last trip into Siem Reap for a tasting at the brewery, a French crepe, and a stroll along the frenetic Pub Street. Have I mentioned that I love it here?

Before heading to the airport Sunday morning, Sokun the hotel manager presented us with gifts made by local villagers: two bracelets woven with cotton thread and soda tabs.

Rather than being dispirited by Cambodia as I originally feared, I fell in love with this lush country and the generous, optimistic locals that introduced themselves everywhere that we went. Really: can you imagine biking through farmland in rural America and having an entire family step out of their house to just to say hello? (And not with the business end of a rifle?) If the Cambodian people can look to the future, I can, too.

So perhaps it won’t be a surprise, if you’ve made it to the end of this post, that I’ll be returning to Cambodia soon. I’ll be spending several weeks in June exploring more of the country and its history, seeing art, joining a yoga and mediation retreat, and making good on some volunteer work. Most people would still probably prefer a beach trip, but I can’t wait to go back.

For someone who has moved about a dozen times in as many years, and grew up shipping out to camp for eight weeks every summer, I’m a pretty terrible packer. My Dad’s greeting when I arrived for a weekend in New Jersey was often, “How many pairs of boots did you bring?” So I consider it no small achievement that I moved to Singapore with one medium-sized suitcase, a rolling carry-on bag, and a 40 liter backpack.

As with all aspects of the move, I planned the contents of these bags to death by reading online packing lists and traveler blogs. Now, with ten countries and countless weekends away under my belt (metaphorically… I did not pack a belt!), I thought I’d share which items have been invaluable on the road in Southeast Asia and what is collecting dust in our bomb shelter.

Lug it:

A good backpack takes up less space than a suitcase and is much easier to carry than a duffel, especially along a hot and dusty dirt road. You could spend a ton of money here, but I got the old version of the REI Vagabond Tour Pack on sale (see new version here) for well under $100 USD. I don’t even think they advertise it as a “backpacking” bag, but you really, really don’t need more than 40 L unless you are actually camping in the wilderness. It’s small enough that I can easily hoist and lift it and bring it on the plane or bus as a carry-on bag. A plus: it’s sleek enough that I don’t feel weird bringing it into a nicer hotel or restaurant.

Tevas. Any shoe that you can’t hose off is useless here. A pair of sturdy Tevas like these and flip flops will get you through 99% of SEA travel situations. I usually add a pair of flat leather sandals to my bag for dinners out, too. Sneakers are good for longer hikes or treks, but any lace-up shoe is a huge pain to take on and off when you’re temple-hopping.

A bandana, buff, and/or lightweight scarf or sarong. I tend to bring along all of the above, and use them variously as headbands, towels, deterrent against sun and dust on a bike, blankets, beach cover-ups, and in a pinch for modest temple attire.

Hiding from the sun on the Irrawaddy River, Myanmar.

Living that Bagan lifestyle in Myanmar.

I now own zip-off pants, here modeled in Angkor Wat, Cambodia.

Did I mention the equatorial sun will broil you? A rash guard will ward off sunburn while you’re snorkeling and earn you points on the beach with modestly-attired locals in places like Malaysia.

You can’t have too many wet wipes and tissues, ever. (Napkins and toilet paper: not a thing. Even in Singapore. Enough said.)

Lightweight pants. Whether you’re hopping on a motorbike that’s been baking in the sun, avoiding mosquitos at night, or walking into a temple– shorts won’t do. Elephant pants are a backpacker cliche for a reason, and only cost about $2 in places like Cambodia. They are truly the perfect garment, unless you’re in Myanmar, in which case you should switch to a longi.

Elephant pants…

… or longi?

Honorable mentions: noise-cancelling earbuds for flights and buses, packing cubes, a Kindle, polarized sunglasses, luggage locks, earplugs.

Leave it:

A jean jacket. It seemed like something I’d wear occasionally indoors here in Singapore which is infamous for blasting the A/C, but it’s bulky to cart around when you could bring a scarf. And really, and the thought of denim anywhere near me in this humidity makes me want to scream.

Ditto for a pair of jeans that I brought for plane rides. Just wear thick leggings or elephant pants.

A water filtration bottle that I got talked into buying. It’s heavy and awkward, and it’s never taken me more than a few minutes to find someone selling bottled water in Asia. I do feel sad about the plastic waste, so when possible, we buy big water jugs.

My massive Lonely Planet Southeast Asia on a Shoestring guidebook. It’s useful, but not as a brick in your backpack. My inelegant solution is to rip out the pages for each destination. You can also just buy a cheap SIM card for your cell phone in each country, and access guidebook information online.

Makeup. Use sparingly or risk “panda eyes” in photos. Thanks humidity.

There’s a moment in the movie When Harry Met Sally where Harry says that Sally is the worst kind of woman: she thinks she’s low maintenance, but she’s actually high maintenance. I’ve definitely struggled at times on the road over little things, like forgetting to pack hair conditioner, losing a flip-flop, having to wear dirty clothes or even clean clothes that I am sick to death of (that green zip-up jacket!!). But ultimately packing light has helped me feel confident while traveling. Better yet? Lots of room for new purchases in my backpack.

Have you ever watched an episode of a travel or cooking show when the TV host is a guest of honor at a local celebration or family party in some out-of-the-way village? You know what I mean. There’s always huge tables of food and extended family dancing in the street and some bottle of mystery homebrew passed around. And right there from your seat on the couch, you’re ready to plan a trip and join in on the fun… but you know that even if you did get on a plane, you don’t have an in with someone’s grandma (or a team of fixers). Well, we DID have an in with a grandma on our trip to southern Vietnam, which would have made Bourdain green with envy.

Our friend Wen had invited us to a family party at her grandmother’s house in southern Vietnam before I had even left the states, but it seemed like forces were always conspiring against this trip. Airfare jumped up. Andrew’s work travel schedule kept changing. Then visa requirements for US citizens entering Vietnam suddenly hiked by hundreds of dollars,  and websites to get online visas inexplicably suspended service, seemingly to see if the new laws would actually go into effect (welcome to Southeast Asia!). I was in the middle of planning a trip with my parents to Cambodia in November and our nine-day trek to Myanmar in December. We were still very new to this part of the world and generally feeling overwhelmed with so much travel ahead. But then: a break. A company based in Ho Chi Minh City invited Andrew to give a presentation to their employees in October. With half the travel and visa costs thus covered, we quickly booked the rest, and I touched down in Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon in late October.

HO CHI MINH CITY

So: Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon? Both names were used frequently and interchangeably by locals, though we learned that Saigon often refers to the central downtown area of the city. The one thing you should not call the city is just “Ho Chi Minh,” since that refers to the person, and risks offence.

Now a pro at solo international arrivals, I arrived to the hotel in downtown HCMC that Andrew was staying in for work, prepared to venture out alone. Unexpectedly, Andrew made it back at an early hour so we hit the town together. We walked across the enormous central plaza that looks like the set of a communist movie to a large outdoor Vietnamese restaurant, Nhà hàng Ngon, where we feasted on familiar favorites like summer rolls, pho, and bahn mi. It was the first of many, many, many soup-based meals (in 95 degree heat).

The next morning, while Andrew headed off for another day of meetings, I was picked up by my motorbike tour guide for the day, a petite university student named Thao. I’d read that it was difficult to get around the city without a motorbike, and I knew that renting my own in Vietnam would be a frightening prospect. (Here’s why.) The solution was Back of the Bike tours, one of a few companies in HCMC offering the best of both worlds.

Thao and I met up with two other driver-tourist duos at a coffeeshop to take on Saigon. (Sidebar: the Vietnamese iced coffee! Swoon. Worth the trip.) Though it was a comparatively expensive tour at around $50 USD (this in a city when the average meal is two dollars), it ended up being a perfect way to see the sights in a day including things I never, ever would have gotten to otherwise. We not only hit the major tourist sights like the Notre Dame Cathedral and the Central Post Office, but also ate breakfast and lunch at local places, zoomed down tiny, narrow alleyways to local wet markets, and went to outer areas of the city. Better yet, I spent the whole day talking to Thao, who pointed out everything of interest we passed on the bike and patiently answered my questions about local life.

The central post office

This man has worked in the post office for sixty years translating letters

Cathedral

Thien Hau Temple

Thien Hau Temple

Scenes from the market

Meat, anyone?

That afternoon I was tired and dusty from the tour, but I pushed myself to leave the hotel and walk to the War Remnants Museum. You know, a relaxing way to wind down! It was a difficult visit, though I recommend making time for it. It’s fascinating to see exhibits from the Vietnamese perspective on the history of the Resistance War Against America, and they do an excellent job of putting the war in the context of Vietnam’s history with the French and the rest of Asia. It is also outrageously and unsparingly graphic by American museum standards, so consider yourself warned…

On the way back, I passed by the striking Independence Palace, though I skipped the tour. Time for a drink. Luckily, HCMC is an excellent place to eat and drink. It has an almost hipster vibe with hole-in-the-wall noodle shops next to upscale craft beer bars. I met Andrew in time for happy hour at the excellent cocktail bar Racha Room. If it hadn’t been for people smoking inside, I would have thought we were back in Brooklyn. Singapore has incredibly high prices for alcohol, so it was a treat just to relax and not worry about blowing my latest freelance check on the bill.

From Racha, we hopped in a cab and met up with the rest of the weekend gang at a nearby AirBnB. The cast of characters included four Fordham grads (Andrew, Wen, recent Singapore arrival Erica, and Nick, based in Spain and currently backpacking around Asia), Wen’s boyfriend Tai, Nick’s Spanish girlfriend Ainhoa, and Tai’s Canadian colleague Ken. Got it? Like most of our expat gatherings out here, we were basically a mini UN. Our flight to the small city where Wen’s family is from, Rach Gia, left at 6 AM the next morning. Some of the aforementioned stayed out all night… other less ambitious folks (myself included, sorry) helped to hold the plane while we all reunited on the tarmac before a quick hop over the Mekong Delta.

I could probably write a full novel about the 24 hours we spent in Rach Gia (pronounced Yit Yah!! as best I can tell), a port town on the southern coast of Vietnam. Suffice to say it was one memorable days I’ve ever had, with every moment filled to the brim with new experiences. Wen grew up in Philly but her extended family is still in Rach Gia, and her mom owns a home there. This palatial but oddly empty house was our fist stop, where we were greeted by Wen’s nearly identical mom and aunt, who had prepared enormous communal urns of Vietnamese iced coffee for our arrival. Soon, a restaurant across the street delivered steaming bowls of “sweet shrimp” noodle soup for our breakfast. I have eaten many delicious things in my life, but that soup makes me want to cry thinking about it. By the time I reached the bottom of my bowl, I understood the genius of soup for breakfast: light yet filling, flavourful, and cozy. With that, we headed off to various corners of the house for a long nap.

That evening, after some exploring around town and an absolutely torrential downpour that seemed to phase the locals on motorbikes not at all, we made our way to Wen’s grandmother’s house. It was sensory overload from the moment we stepped out of our cab. I’d been imagining a “large family party” to mean… maybe twenty people? Try two hundred. The entire house was filled with people, and the party spilled into the street and well down the block, with a huge series of tarps covering large round tables crowded with stools. We were quickly ushered to a table of honor in the front, already piled, and I mean piled, with food. One roast chicken, one roast duck, two baskets of fried spring rolls, and a hot pot tureen with platters of add-ins… to start.

Dozens of uncles and cousins gathered to initiate us into the celebration by pouring mugs of Tiger Beer on ice, and teaching us how to chant “Mot, Hai, Ba, Vo!” This translates to One, Two, Three, In! and must be said before every toast. There were many toasts. For entertainment, there was a full karaoke stage set up in the front yard, complete with a deafeningly loud wall of speakers, fog machine, and disco lights. Nearly every adult got up to sing (!), and then the mic was passed onto our table. We represented America proudly with crowd-pleasing renditions of Journey, 4 Non Blondes, and Bon Jovi. One of my favorite moments of the night was talking a quick break from the chaos of the party with Wen and Ainhoa and walking around the neighborhood, peeking in on houses and the families who seemed completely unperturbed by the unbelievable din down the street.

The night ended at a bizarre local nightclub with Wen’s cousins, where I lost all of my hearing while being surrounded by an army of identically dressed, bored female hostesses. We made it back to the house just a few hours before the daily 5AM wakeup music and propaganda announcements blasted through the town’s loudspeakers. What a place.

PHU QUOC

The next morning, we all rushed to make our ferry to Phú Quốc, an island a couple of hours off the coast, right on the borderline between Vietnam and Cambodia. The two countries have fought over the large island for years, and it also has a dark past as the site of some of the most infamous prisons during the Vietnam War. Today, in a theme familiar across Southeast Asia, it is in the early stages of redevelopment for tourism. But while Phú Quốc recently opened a shiny new international airport, there’s still little outside influence and basic amenities like ATMs are scarce. Given the rapid pace of modernization in Vietnam that Wen has witnessed firsthand during trips to visit family, it’s safe to say that Phú Quốc will be changing VERY quickly. But for now, it is a sleepy locals and backpackers scene, and home to the gold standard of places we’ve stayed during our travels: Daisy Resort.

“Let’s find another Daisy” is now a common refrain in our travel planning. This place was outrageously beautiful but not fancy, perched in the hills overlooking the ocean, with colorful gardens surrounding an enormous pool. $30 USD a night gets you a simple, private villa. Breakfast (included!) was a feast of local food, with platters of fresh fruit and bowls of noodles, and made-to-order Vietnamese coffees. I never really understood travelers who write about accidentally staying somewhere for an extra week until Daisy. Best of all, the young staff was friendly and accommodating, eager to practice English and organize activities for our group. They were led by an earnest local guy named Billy.

After checking in at Daisy, we piled into two cabs and made our way to the beach, which was lovely and completely empty, save for some cattle. As Wen reminded us: locals don’t go to the beach or anywhere near the sun. A typical motorbike outfit on a blazing hot day in Vietnam includes head-to-toe coverage, including a face mask, gloves, and toe socks with flip-flops.

After an afternoon of swimming, we made our way to Rory’s, a legendary backpacker beach bar with a giant bonfire. The thought of another Tiger beer was not so appealing after the previous night’s festivities, so in a moment of weakness that has since been repeated on many of our trips, I broke down and ordered a regrettable glass of wine. I say with no pride that I have sampled the finest box wine in many Asian countries.

It had been raining on and off throughout the trip, but the last day dawned sunny and bright– just in time for us to bid farewell to Andrew, who very reluctantly flew back to Singapore for work. Despite our promises that we wouldn’t have any fun without him, we immediately made our way down to the marina and chartered a very affordable boat and crew for the day. Nope, no fun at all. We made stops in the Gulf of Thailand for fishing, swimming, and snorkeling. While the water wasn’t too clear after the week’s storms, the corals were some of the best I’ve ever seen. The highlight was the lunchtime feast prepared by the crew, including a giant pile of fresh sea urchins and a fish stew that included our catches, including my one tiny fish.

the harbor

the boat

my big catch

sea urchin, two ways

lunch

We had plans to check out the local night market that evening, but after returning to Daisy, we found the staff rushing around with bedsheets, paint, streamers, and buckets of red watermellon juice. Family members of staff were pulling into the resort with their children in tow. With an extremely serious air, Billy approached us and explained that in honor of our group staying there, they were going to have a Halloween party that night. He was apologetic that it wasn’t actually Halloween (it was the next night, but we’d be gone by then). Did we want to attend the party anyway?

Well, we knew by now that when a group of Vietnamese locals throws you and your friends a party, you do not say no. The staff had transformed the restaurant into a Halloween wonderland, with handmade decorations of ghosts, spiderwebs, and bats. The price of admission? Having your face painted with paint that was almost certainly not intended for that purpose. A Halloween buffet of snacks that would have made Pinterest proud was set out, and of course, a giant karaoke set-up loomed large. But before karaoke could begin, there were games including blindfolded face painting and relays. Billy acted as emcee, welcoming the assorted guests and staff (including some very confused looking Chinese tourists) and making a speech into an echoing mic about Halloween. “Tonight we celebrate with our American friends. Halloween is a holiday in the west that we have enjoyed for a few years in Vietnam. On Halloween you paint your face and eat snacks and sing.” Well, close enough.

Yup.

Karaoke!

Scary snacks.

Tai, after I face painted him blindfolded. Sorry about that.

prizes

Later, faces scrubbed but not entirely pigment-free, we still made it to the night market for some shopping, ice cream, and gawking at sea creatures.

The next morning during check-out, I thanked Billy for everything and told him genuinely that last night was not just the best Halloween party, but one of the best parties I had ever been to. I said I hoped to be back soon. He looked mildly horrified and said, “No! You must promise to not come back here until you have been everywhere else in the world. Only then may you return.”

Andrew and I joked we’ve unintentionally planned more and more adventurous and challenging trips this fall, culminating in our backpacking trip to Myanmar over the holidays. By Myanmar we’d be such hardened travelers that we would just start our own commune in the wilderness rather than return to our old lives, á la The Beach. Southern Vietnam fell somewhere in the middle of this spectrum: it was a surprising mix of being more Westernized than I expected in Ho Chi Min City (fluent English heard everywhere, swanky cafes served lattes and craft beer) and less Westernized that I imagined in Rạch Giá and Phú Quốc (locals attired in conical palm hats and silk pajama suits, no chain stores).

This trip was a lulu, and it was important for me to get the telling of it right. Our visas last for a year, so this won’t be our final trip to this beautiful country. A good thing, too: it’s enormous with many varied regions that merit a visit. And best of all, we now have local family and friends to visit in the south. So with apologies to Billy, I hope to see him again soon.

I know, I know. I am behind in posting. Mostly this is a good thing, since it means I’ve been busy with freelance work. But we can also blame the PEOTUS, since his victory sent me in a dark downward spiral of never wanting to get out of bed again, much less crow about all of my amazing travel. Don’t give in to your urge to move to Canada or Costa Rica, it feels pretty crummy to be an expat right now. The distance makes the situation feel even more surreal and helpless, and we’re hounded by well-meaning people constantly asking us about the election. (I’ve been practicing a devastatingly regal British accent to use in public, thanks to binge watching The Crown.) The only travel I feel like writing about is our collective trip in a handbasket.

I’ve been trying to comfort myself with the fact that after the nuclear winter of a Trump presidency, we will need people with a knowledge of the wider world to rebuild. In Mark Twain’s infinite wisdom: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.” So although I can literally see Indonesia from my house and may not be let in back over the wall, I’m more passionate than ever about living abroad.

The other delay in this post? Every time I start to write about our trip to Taiwan, I get hungry. I should have known what were in for, given that everyone who shared recommendations with us simply sent detailed lists of foods to try. “Must eat an oyster pancake- weirdly gelatinous. Taiwanese people LOVE gelatinous things!” “Try rou yuan (also called ba wan), which is basically a meatball wrapped in a translucent rice flour/sweet potato flour wrapping and then deep fried, then covered in a sweet and savory sauce and sprinkled with cilantro.” After four very happy days in Taipei in early October,  I can confirm that it is one of the most delicious–and surprisingly picturesque– cities I’ve ever visited.

Andrew needed to be in Taipei for almost a week for work, spanning a weekend, so it was ideal timing for me to join for a few days. Despite the fact that it’s a five hour flight from Singapore, I found a dirt-cheap Friday night fare on Tiger Air. After arriving, I realized that it was my first time traveling to a foreign country by myself. I felt proud, though joining your husband for a business trip at the Westin Taipei isn’t exactly solo hitchhiking through South America. The high-rise Westin is on the far edge of the business district, and what the immediate neighborhood lacks in charm, it makes up for with its big subway hub. I did love the cityscape view outside our hotel window, which I photographed about a hundred times.

Cushy digs aside, Taipei was not without its challenges, as I quickly discovered the next morning. We confidently asked the hotel staff to point us to a “local” place for breakfast. We could handle it! We could not handle it. It’s not easy to order from a menu of characters. Luckily, there are food and fruit carts on the street, where pointing works for everyone. While many of the maps and signs in Taipei have English translations on them, which makes getting around relatively easy, the language barrier was tricky in shops, restaurants, and with taxi drivers.

Saturday was a clear and sunny day, so we decided to start off with the famously scenic Elephant Mountain hike. One of the striking things about Taipei is that the subway literally brings you into the surrounding mountains. There’s even a national park within city limits. At the trail head, we noticed groups of fully-equipped hikers with ski poles and daypacks–never a reassuring sight when you are wearing shoes from Muji. Though the hike was short and paved, it was also sharply vertical. And it was really humid out. Though I think we each sweat through our clothes in the first five minutes, the views did not disappoint.

After buying lots of water from a vendor with some prime real estate at the end of the trail, we walked over to the Simple Market, an indoor-outdoor craft and design market held in old army barracks. It reminded me of a small Brooklyn Flea. To continue with that theme, we had lunch at a fun cafe called Good Cho’s in the barracks where we sampled their speciality: respectably chewy bagels. I think we’re gonna like it here!

We then walked to my new favorite store in the world, Eslite. While there are multiple locations of the bookstore about Taipei, we went to the Eslite Spectrum Mall, which is filled with design kiosks and independent fashion labels, crowned with a mega-Eslite. It’s basically like the MoMA Design Store meets an awesome independent bookstore meets Trader Joe’s snack section. It’s not cheap, but the people-watching scene is great and the selection of art books and magazines is heavenly.

Saturday night dinner was one of the more memorable meals we’ve had abroad. Behind its crazy name, Addiction Aquatic Development is really just a revamped traditional Asian fish market with sections for live seafood, a grocery, homegoods, and a group of half a dozen restaurants and bars. After walking around, we settled on the traditional Japanese sushi bar–standing room only–and stuffed ourselves on big boards of super fresh sashimi. (It’s hard to believe that when we first started dating, Andrew was that guy ordering chicken teriyaki with a fork in a Japanese restaurant.) The improbable highlight was the delicious miso soup, which came with a whole flaky white fish floating inside.

On a long walk back to the hotel, we enjoyed the lively street scene, a very welcome change from quiet and orderly Singapore. On a whim, we decided to have a nightcap at the hotel and were directed up to a nondescript mid-level floor. A few turns led us to what I can only describe as a secret Lynchian nightclub, all velvet curtains and cigar smoke complete with a crooning jazz singer and three-piece band. This place is full of surprises.

Sunday was a true marathon day of sight-seeing. Andrew had to get some work done in the morning, so I set out by myself to the lovely Longshan Temple for a meditative moment, followed by a walk through the fun and trashy Ximenimen neighborhood which is sort of like Times Square. In the afternoon, Andrew joined me for  a half-hearted attempt to get into the original Din Tai Fung (2 hour wait), before we bailed and found an equally delicious dim sum spot nearby. After feasting on dumplings and braised beef noodle soup, we strolled around Yongkang Street, a cute area that reminded me of Greenwich Village.

Longshan Temple

The beautiful courtyard

One table of offerings

We hopped back on the subway to the end of another line, where we resurfaced in the town of Beitou, famous for hot springs. What happened next required a bit of explanation: that morning, we’d asked the hotel concierge to recommend a co-ed hot spring spa in Beitou that we could enjoy together. (Many of hot spring spas are restricted to one gender, and people bathe in the nude.) She found a co-ed place for us and made a reservation. Upon arrival, it was clear that this was not a spa that catered to anyone other than locals. After some confusing back and forth with the receptionist, we realized she was asking to see our bathing suits. Assuming she just wanted to make sure we had bathing suits and understood this was a co-ed spa, we both pulled them out. My one-piece passed the test, but Andrew’s trunks were rejected. Speedos only! And good news, they sold them right there at reception!

I wish I could have taken some pictures of Andrew’s new look, but I did not feel comfortable pulling out my camera at the spa. When we walked into the pool area–which was lovely and on the roof of the building, facing the mountains– you could basically hear a record scratch as a dozen Taiwanese families swivelled around to stare at us. Initial awkwardness aside, the hot pools were very relaxing and it was an incredible way to watch the sunset. Until we realized that they did not provide towels, and had to use paper towels in the bathroom to dry off…

No trip to Taipei is complete without a visit to a night market, which is sort of like if a gigantic street fair happened every single night in certain neighborhoods. (This might be a New Yorker’s worst nightmare.) On the way back into the city, we stopped at one of the largest, in Shilin. I honestly was not prepared for the immense scale of the market, which encompassed block after block of vendors, hawkers, performers, games… it was pure Jersey-shore-boardwalk insanity. I went in determined to try the infamous stinky tofu, but just I couldn’t do it. Stinky is an understatement, is all I’ll say. I settled for a fresh-wrapped spring roll and later, a giant kabob of fresh pineapple.

Andrew went back to work on Monday and I spent the day exploring by myself, now feeling confident on the subway system. There’s a lot to love about the Taipei subway, including cute characters that remind you of etiquette, orderly queues of commuters, and courtesy umbrellas. I was also delighted by that fact that some stations play classical music on the platform when a train is about to arrive. How civilized!

There were others with umbrellas!

“You’re squishing me”

My first stop was the National Palace Museum, a bucket-list stop for any museum lover. The museum was originally founded in Beijing in the 1920s to house art and artifacts from the Chinese emperors. However, the most prized items from the collection were evacuated to Taiwan during the Japanese invasion of China in the 1930s and 40s, and Taipei controversially (re)opened the National Palace Museum in 1965. Therefore, the greatest Chinese artifacts in the world are in these galleries, which can only mean one thing: gigantic Chinese tour groups. Numerous art friends had warned me about the crowds and told me to go early, but by 10 AM, the lobby was already like MoMA the day after Christmas. (I actually think it would have been better later in the afternoon, since it seemed like all the tour groups came in early.) The galleries with the most famous pieces were barely any better. Ribs sore from elbows, I finally wandered off into some of the quieter galleries. So yes, the crowds are punishing and the entire dim place needs a serious facelift. But I did see some incredible art, from a room-sized screen made of solid jade to a series of impossibly detailed carved peach and olive pits.

Taipei by my selfie

National Palace Museum

On my way back to downtown, I stopped for a late lunch at a vegetarian Chinese restaurant, mostly because they had the word “vegetarian” in the window, which led me to believe they might have an English language menu (they did!). For about $2, I had a set meal of wonton noodle soup with greens, orange slices, and tea. Maybe it was because I had just survived the thunderdome, but this simple meal was one of the best I’ve ever had.

I worked from the hotel room in the afternoon, but ran out to make it to Ten Shang’s Tea Company before closing. This neighborhood tea house sells tea, runs tastings, and is a local hangout for tea drinkers of all ages. I had a cup of tea while the owner’s daughter, who speaks excellent English, led me through a tasting and the purchase of some holiday gifts. I had originally wanted to take the Taipei gondola up into the tea plantations, but the gondola was sadly under repair during our visit. Next time!

Seriously though, I already have big plans for our next trip to Taiwan. I want to ride the gondola and visit more night markets, and maybe work up the nerve to try stinky tofu. I also want to go hiking outside the city with real hiking boots, and visit more hot springs with my own towel in tow. The scenery in Taiwan is beautiful and they drive on the correct side of the street, so it could even be a classic road trip–after all, we know the snacks would be great. Who needs America, after all?

Before we had even moved out of our apartment in Crown Heights, we knew where we wanted to go for our first real Southeast Asia trip: Bali. We had heard from so many people that it was the place to put at the very top of our long list of travel destinations, that it offered everything from gorgeous beaches to volcanos and had a completely unique culture. Nearly everyone we told about our move to Singapore would mention how we’d probably visit Bali “every weekend,” and in fact, Andrew soon reported that one of his new colleagues had been sixteen times in two years (!). There was just one thing to do: over Hari Raya Haji, a Muslim holiday long weekend in September, we made a four-day trip. I don’t know if we can manage sixteen trips in two years, but even in a region full of travel options, I hope this won’t be our last hop to Bali.

I’ll write more about our life in Singapore in another post, but as one might imagine, it hasn’t always been the easiest transition. Yes, I wanted to make the move and I’m grateful for this experience, but moving to a foreign country is not without its trials. However. I spent the entire (overpriced) flight to Depensar with a grin on my face: we live two hours from Bali! Elizabeth Gilbert, eat your heart out.

Determined to squeeze two locations into one weekend, our first stop after arriving Friday morning was the southern beach town of Seminyak, on the west coast. I want to make a quick aside here to say that the new airport in Bali is one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever been to—this place makes a good first impression. (Donald Trump is right about one thing: with the exception of Phuket, every airport I’ve been to in Asia has been like an upscale mall-cum-botanical garden with free wifi.)

SEMINYAK

After a harrowing drive through a sea of motorbikes with our new friend Putu behind the wheel, we made it to our villa in Seminyak, which I found on AirBnB. The villa was the usual concrete compound with an open courtyard and enclosed bed and bath. It was blazingly hot and sunny, so we took refuge in an excellent Mexican restaurant nearby for lunch. Really getting right into that authentic Balinese culture, you know? Seriously though, we were both amazed at how good the food and service was in Bali, particularly the international food. While Singapore has excellent Asian food, most international fare is either fast food or high-end, and service is… sometimes a thing. In Bali, it wasn’t unusual to see 40 people working at one restaurant with a handful of diners.

After our taco lunch, we explored the town, which is chock-full of amazing shopping. Most of it catered to wealthy foreigners– Seminyak is firmly on the tourist map and will erase any notions you may have had of Bali as an untouched paradise. Yes, there’s a Starbucks. But, between surf shops for Andrew and the maze-like flea markets for me, let’s just say we underestimated our Bali shopping budget.

One of the first thing we noticed walking around Seminyak were the canang sari, or daily Balinese offerings. Each offering is a folded or woven palm leaf filled with flowers, rice, other food or candy, incense, and often cigarettes. Canang sari are placed each morning on the sidewalk outside every home and business, and often on the dashboards of cars and motorbikes. Both villas we stayed in would put a daily offering outside of our room, which we quickly learned to step over. They are swept away each evening. We were also lucky enough to be in Bali during the festival of Galungan, when every house and storefront erects penjor, elaborately decorated bamboo poles with offerings suspended at the end. Our taxi driver Putu told us that each pole is made by local artisans and can cost well into the hundreds of USD. Walking or driving through roads lined by ornate penjor waving in the breeze added to the island’s festive atmosphere.

Penjor

Canang sari

By late afternoon, it cooled down enough that we felt like we could brave the beach. After haggling with a few vendors, we found a guy who cut us a deal on two beach chairs and an umbrella, with a coconut thrown in to sweeten the deal. As it turns out, you get what you pay for—we’d ended up next to a run-off channel that drained into the ocean and didn’t smell so hot when the wind shifted. The surf was rough and many parts of the beach were closed to swimmers, but we got some body surfing in (after walking farther up the beach!). While the beach was fun, it is an adjustment to be approached every few minutes by vendors hawking everything from saris to watches to massages to cut mangos, as well as by stay dogs seeking shade under your chair.

Seminyak beach

The coconut that sealed the deal

After a couple of hours, we gladly abandoned our location near the run-off and made our way north along the beach as the sun set. Though we’d originally thought of joining the happy hour crowd at one of the swanky resorts perched above the sand, we instead opted to stay on the beach and buy beers from a friendly vendor looking to practice his English, who invited us to sit with him at his picnic table. A million dollar view for a dollar brew. (Also, it’s all relative as I don’t love light beer, but Bintang might be my cheap Asian lager of choice.)

Forgoing some of the trendier options in town airlifted from the Meatpacking District, I’d made reservations for an Indonesian spot near our villa called Ginger Moon. After coaxing my husband out of his new uniform of a surfer singlet, we enjoyed a delicious feast of local dishes like watermelon and crab salad, chicken steamed in banana leaves, and pandan leaf brulee. Pandan leaf everything is now my favorite—the flavor is sort of like pistachio. I am proud to report that we then hit up a hot club called Favela, only find that it was still way too early for dancing. We settled for a nightcap and headed for bed.

UBUD

After a walk along the much-quieter Seminyak beach the next morning, we piled back into Putu’s taxi to drive to Ubud, a mountain town about an hour away and the other major tourist destination on the island. Ubud is known as the center of traditional Balinese culture and you could spend a whole week just going to gamelan and dance performances. While Seminyak didn’t feel too dissimilar from Thai beaches, Ubud felt more like Costa Rica—steep hills with dense jungle, a volcano in the background, and lots of crunchy little vegan warungs (restaurants) and smoothie spots. Of course, it also put the love in Eat Pray Love, and there is something whimsical and romantic about the whole area.

Sunrise Villas, another AirBnB find, was an absolute gem—I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. I will say that I chose the villa after being assured we would not need air-conditioning in mountainous Ubud, but it was pretty darn warm and humid at night under the mosquito netting. I’m going to blame global warming.

While we both could have happily camped out on our villa’s porch for the rest of the trip with that view, there’s a ton to do in Ubud. We spent the afternoon on a ridge line hike. Wow.

That night, we saw a Balinese kecak fire and trance dance at a local temple, which is accompanied by a chanting human gamelan of some fifty men around a bonfire. The audience sat surrounding the performers on raised wooden benches. The action, a story from the Ramayana, takes place in the round and the human gamelan at times moves to become the set: a forest, a cage, a war zone. The elaborate traditional costumes, especially Hanoman (the white monkey) were spectacular. Photography was tricky but I did get a good shot of the fire dance at the end, where a rider on a wooden horse-puppet walks barefoot over hot coconut husk coals. In a twenty-first century twist, the fire dancer then took selfies with tourists after the show.

The next morning after the classic backpacker breakfast of banana pancakes on our balcony, we walked out of the villa to haggle a driver for the day. My enjoyment in haggling is only matched by Andrew’s discomfort, which is ironic since he’s the penny pincher and I will throw money at a problem any day. But I enjoy the sport of it. Andrew, who has what one might call Resting Friendly Face, is a complete mark. Case in point, seconds after arriving at our first stop for the day–the stunning Goa Gajah, or Elephant Cave temple– an old woman vendor tied a sarong around Andrew, who meekly shelled out cash in return. (Sarong were free to borrow at the temple.)

Our driver, Dewa, then insisted on taking us to a coffee plantation for a tour. I was wary of being dragged into a tourist trap (which it was), but it was actually a welcome break from the heat. We sampled different teas and coffees and met a luwak– the local tree-cat-like animal that eats coffee cherries and “naturally ferments” them, before the droppings are collected, cleaned, and ground into pricey coffee. We agreed to try the coffee, which I have to say was pretty darn good.

Let the cat-poo-chino jokes commence

Next Dewa–a gamelan player who had been to more cities in the US than I think I have– took us to the Ubud Monkey Forest, a nature reserve and temple complex. A rogue monkey outside the gates set the tone for the visit when he walked up to a woman drinking a coconut and slapped it out of her hand. Not bothering to run, he then settled down on the sidewalk and finished the drink. Monkey business aside, the temples were atmospheric and lovely, albeit a little difficult to enjoy with the midday crowds.

Who, me?

Family dinner.

This guy turned the faucet on and off when he was done.

That night for dinner, we enjoyed another unique feature of Bali’s status as a literal Hindu island in a Muslim country: BBQ pork ribs and margaritas at the famed Naughty Nuri’s. The ribs, coated in a sweet tangy glaze not unlike the sauce we Americans know and love, are cooked over an open fire pit out front. It’s the perfect place to make friends, and we struck up a conversation with a solo Austrian backpacker next to us. Once again, I was reminded of how well-informed many people abroad are of US politics! (I don’t want to say better informed than most Americans, but…… )

The following morning, we braved a nauseating tour bus ride out of Ubud to Mt. Batur, one of Bali’s active volcanoes (I’ll say the queasiness was 50% the margaritas, 50% the fact that I don’t think our bus driver knew how to operate a manual vehicle.) After a stop at yet another coffee plantation for a luwak song-and-dance, our group stopped at a small warung overlooking the picturesque view of mountain and lake for a late breakfast. We then hopped on ancient mountain bikes and began our long, winding descent back to town.

I had wanted to do the day-long bike ride to get out of the congested tourist areas and see local life, and the trip did not disappoint. We passed endless orchards with roadside fruit stands, tiny general stores, lots of temples, and crowds of children waving and yelling, “HEH-LOOOO! HEH-LOOOO!” Along the way we made several stops, including a terraced rice farm and a family home for lunch and a children’s dance performance. The highlight for me was the tour of a small village, where we dismounted our bikes and strolled down the main street to see artists making traditional wood carvings by hand. While it was sad to see the less beautiful sights like all of the plastic litter in the village or mangy-looking dogs limping around, I’m grateful that we got a realistic glimpse of rural Bali life.

Our last night, we enjoyed another delicious Indonesian dinner at Warung Pulau Kelapa in Ubud. The warung has its own organic farm in the back, which you can tour during the day, and they make almost everything from scratch. When I couldn’t decide which ice cream to have for dessert, they offered to bring me into their dairy next door for a tasting. Who could turn down that offer?

Even though it was busting at the seams with tourists and noisy motorbikes, Bali was one of the most unforgettable and most enjoyable places I’ve ever been. It really was the perfect start to exploring Southeast Asia. Yes, the island is lovely, but there are many lovely beaches and mountains in the world. Go to experience the unique culture, food, and local traditions. I would love to go back to Ubud, where we barely made it to half of the sights, and then on to some of the more remote northern areas. We’ve also heard rave reviews of Bali’s neighbor to the east, Lombok.

And if you made it through all of this, you might just be ready for the 23 hour flight from New York to join me.