Island Hopping

I made it to Manila after a long, arduous journey of airports, running late and late flights alike, and a nonstop techno beat that made our beachy bungalow far from perfect.

I haven't slept more than two or three hours for at least four nights now. Our beach bungalow was adjacent to one of Mui Ne's hottest clubs that bumped techno beats from 2 p.m. to 3 a.m. We took sleeping pills, attempted going to sleep drunk and even put in our own headphones to try keep the noise out. Luckily our days were lazy, and I'm continuing to nurse a sunburned tummy.

We thought we would miss our flight in Ho Chi Minh, our bus was leaving more than two hours late from Mui Ne, and we were already cutting things close if we had left one time. Thankfully, due to Vietnam's avid disregard for traffic laws, we made it in four hours (instead of five) thanks to our driver's ability to play chicken and win every single time. 

Last night we slept in the Kuala Lumpur airport. And by "slept" I mean awkwardly finangled ourselves on hard plastic chairs and slept in a single position until some part of our body was numb (usually we had to wake up and switch positions every 20 minutes or so). We got coffee at Jenn's favorite chain and rushed to our 7 a.m. plane that we didn't realize we were running late for.

We arrived in Manila at last and had another three hour journey to our hostel. On the bus from the airport, a Filipino woman took us under her care and promised to find us a taxi. Bless her heart... we would have definitely gone to the wrong taxi stand. Manila is a chaotic, pseudo-scary mess -- but we got a reliable cab driver who didn't rip us off.

My primary mission for Manila is to check out where my grandpa stayed in World War II. I wanted to make sure to see The Great Eastern Hotel -- he was stationed just across the river from it. I can look at the hotel from my hostel. I can see the river too.

The next thing I wanted to see was the old Manila Post Office. Jenn and I got directions and hopped in a Jeepney (imagine a low-rider, extended cab Jeep with no windows). We ended up at a Post Office, it was hardly legendary though. It was a 1970s structure that had zero character and was definitely not the post office famed from the war. We learned that one is at least an hour away from where we were, by that time it was getting dark so we had to call it quits. We definitely gave it a diligent effort, but couldn't quite make it.

After the failed post office attempt, we tried to go to the Chase ATM (that's where Jenn's account is at, so she could avoid fees). We found the Chase tower and were sent to the 31st floor. We were greeted by a receptionist in a fancy office who made a phone call and asked us to go to a board room. 

The board room was extravagent but sterile. A phone was at the center of the table. After a minute or two the phone rang and we heard the receptionist run down the hall, open the door and "kindly requested" us to answer the phone.

Jenn answered and giggled as she said, "All I want is an ATM for some currency." ... "Oh, you don't have a bank in the Philippines? Ooops. Ok. Sorry!"

Only JP Morgan is here. Not Chase bank.

We couldn't help but laugh in the elevator down. It was sensational we ended up in a board room when all we wanted was an ATM.

Overall Manila has been cool, there are tons of police with guns -- even at 7-Eleven and Starbucks armed guards open the door as you enter. Just last week a bomb went off in my neighborhood I'm staying in (it is one of the main tourist areas). I can honestly say that I've been a lot less comfortable in places before. Manila isn't so bad. And I can sleep easy tonight knowing I'm on the 18th floor of a building just two blocks away from where my grandpa slept when he was my age. And I can guarantee this was a very different city when he was here.

Tomorrow off to Palawan! No ATMs. Possibly no internet. Plenty of beach and diving.

Tan lines

Right now I'm mooching a Mac sitting on a terracotta-tiled porch. The ocean is about 10 meters behind me and the waves are competing with the palm trees for the loudest windswept hiss.. I'm sandy and sticky and am beyond thrilled that we finally made it to the tropics.

This post will have to be brief, as I am borrowing a computer and quite frankly, I want to get back to the water. But here's a little update on where I've been the past few days:

I ended up buying the custom-made white dress. The receptionist from the store came to my hotel about an hour before I was set to leave on the bus. I had made friends with her earlier in the day, she's teaching herself English from a well-worn hand-written book. She's 20 years old, works seven days a week (two days off each month) from 8a-8p. She shares a dormitory with one other girl. She wants an education and a boyfriend.

I tried on the dress at the hotel and it still didn't fit. Desperate to not lose a sale, she told me to put on my pants and we'd go to the tailor's house. I hopped on her motorbike wearing green cargo pants and a white cocktail dress and she lead me through a labyrinth of narrow passageways far behind Hoi An's main roads that are loaded with travelers like me.

The electricity was still out and dusk was quickly approaching. I sat on the porch of the house as two women ripped my dress apart and manually started sewing it. I was surrounded my curious little kids and the elderly neighbors eyed me suspiciously. My new 20-year old friend was gracious and introduced me to everyone and was very sweet. I couldn't not buy the dress. It still doesn't fit and there is a lot of damage from all of the seam rips and restarts, but I will try rock it. And if anyone says anything about it, I will have one hell of a story to say as a rebuttal.

After that, we took an overnight bus to Nha Trang. We arrived at 7 a.m. and I had to be at my dive school at 7:30. Exhausted, hungry, nervous, and lost, I finally made it to the shop at 7:50. Within an hour I did my first scuba dive. I was terrified -- it was only my third time swimming in an ocean and I suddenly was 20 feet down? Unnatural and weird.

For the next two days, I was taught by two French guys. I was the only student and they were Nha Trang lifers. They were very friendly, but I felt a lot of pressure not to mess up, given I was their only pupil. My test day I did two dives and only could see 1.5-2 meters underwater. It was like driving in a blizzard. It freaked me out, but they told me it will only make me a better diver since I haven't ever gone in great conditions.

In two weeks, I'll be diving in some of the world's best waters. We got our permits for the Sipidan in Borneo (google it).

Three days from now, we'll sadly leave our beachfront bungalow in Mui Ne (a top spot for kite surfers) and fly to Manila and then to Palawan for a different beach bungalow. Internet is becoming more and more scarce and I'm not sure I'll get another update in before I return to China. I'll do my best though to keep up to date. I have taken a ton of video footage, so I will post some of that when I return.

For now, I hope you're all staying warm back home! I'm off to soak up more sun, go to a yoga class, then eat piles and piles of scallops and prawns from a beachside grill (did I mention the scallops are less than $1 a plate??)

Sorry. I'm guessing most of you want to punch me for that braggy little paragraph... I know it's bitterly cold back home, but I can't help but be giddy about my newly-found paradise.

Custom-made

Yesterday I was fitted for two dresses and one pair of high-rise shorts. The tailor shop had great samples on the shelves and they assured me the quality would be perfect. I had heard great things about Hoi An tailors, so my expectations were high.

I should have known better.

One of my dresses fits beautifully, but the fabric makes it look a bit like a bridesmaid dress. It's a full length strapless maxi dress -- I wanted it to be fun, summery and appropriate for a beach. My first fitting was horrible, it wouldn't stay up and the seamstresses were trying to assure me that the dress was beautiful and the fit was spot-on. I prevailed and they sent it back to get refinished. 

I attempted to get a classy cocktail dress and ended up with a shiny, white cheap looking prom dress. The design in the magazine was beautiful, but it didn't translate well into real life. It didn't even pretend to fit me yesterday when I tried it on. It was way too small and the deep V in the front was off center. If the dress were on Project Runway, Michael Kors and Nina Garcia would tear it apart and the designer would definitely be "out." 

They had to start again from scratch. The second fitting today wasn't much better, and I'm waiting on the tailor to come to my hotel with it for the final shot. If I don't like it, I don't have to pay. After it was reconstructed, it looks a bit like a babydoll maternity dress gone horribly wrong. I instantly gain 20 lbs when I put it on. It's awful.

My shorts are the worst. They fit nicely, but the fabric looks like Beach Boy swimming trunks from 1960. First off the shorts are silk (they should be cotton) so they're nice and shiny. The print I chose is a bold floral print that's ivory with dark blue outlines of leaves and flowers. I didn't realize that the ivory was dipped in a bright sky blue on the bottom and exactly 50% of my shorts are sky blue. My lower half is symmetrically divided into perfect chunks. And trust me, you do not want your ass cut into blocky slices.

"They're not as horrible as I thought... I mean, you look a bit like you're going into a boxing match," Jenn said.

I couldn't help but laugh.

I asked the tailor what she thought. "Yes, I think they're nice. Cute. Stylish, even." She was trying hard to be polite because everyone in the room knew the shorts were bad. Very, very bad. I guess I can try rock them in the Philippines where no one will know me? 

At any rate, I just picked up a pair of custom made sandals. They're beautiful. Jenn got two pairs of shoes and some boots -- all of them are constructed well and fit like Cinderella's glass slippers. Had I known how amazing the shoes were, I would have forgone every single piece of clothing I had made and invest the cash into shoes. Custom-made boots and flats and oxfords -- hello, heaven. 

I'm thrilled with the one pair I got... I guess it's just incentive to come back to Vietnam.

Currently the power is out all throughout town so all of the building are abuzz with generators. I feel a bit silly for being able to use this computer right now, but our hotel seems happy to accomodate. We have two more hours until we hop on our final overnight bus of the trip. We're once again heading south to warmer weather and we're seeking out a dive school so I can learn how to scuba dive. 

Here's to hoping I sleep well on the bus tonight. We arrive at 6 a.m. and I dive at 7:30 a.m. tomorrow... onward to yet another road-weary adventure!

Road weary

Never again will I underestimate the power of a change of clothes and a good, hot meal. Eight hours shy of exactly one week, I finally changed clothes. Jenn and I looked road weary and haggard -- the majority of our meals this week consisted of ritz crackers with peanut butter and we hadn't slept in a real bed for the better part of the week.

From Hanoi to Hoi An is 900 km --or a little more than 400 miles. We left at 6:30 p.m. one day and didn't arrive until 2 p.m. the next (we did have a two-hour stop  in Hue). Our bus was a sleeper, which meant there were top and bottom "beds" that didn't quite lay all the way flat. In order to fit more beds on the bus, they designed it so your feet go into a covered compartment that slants so that the bed in front of you overlaps. Without the guard for your legs, the person in front of you would lay their head on your knees. It's an interesting contraption that's tricky to explain.. Regardless, we were thankful for our petite stature because anyone who is taller than 5'8" and wider than normal wouldn't be able to fit.

The ride was rickety and bumpy and each time I tried to look out of the front window all that I could see was a pothole-laden road with no discernible lines and traffic coming head-on. I've come to realize that Americans must be the worst drivers in the world given our loyalty to rigid traffic laws. Even though the rest of the world  is a lot more chaotic, people are more, hmm...engaged, as they drive. Yes, I think engaged is an appropriate word. It's certainly suicidal to text and drive here.

I faded in and out of restless sleep and was elated to finally get off of the bus. Only one more overnight bus to go.

After arriving in Hoi An, we changed clothes, showered and ran off to a tailor shop. This tiny little town is famous for its custom-made clothes, and shop after shop of wool coats, men's suits, dresses, and trousers line the narrow streets. We chose a tailor based on the discount we got from our hostel, and we will each be getting two dresses and a pair of highrise shorts at 3 p.m. today. Despite our exhaustion, we perked up when we looked at book after book of magazine cutouts and department store catalogs to choose our styles. The tailors thankfully gave us advice as to which colors and patterns to choose -- it's funny how 24 hours on a sleeper bus can hamper judgment.

Once our clothes were sent to the seamstress, we headed off to Good Morning, Vietnam, an Italian restaurant that Jenn's friend praised. The chef is from Italy and the food was the best western-style meal I've had since coming to Asia. They had regional dishes that few Italian restaurants in the United States have and all of the pasta was homemade.

The ambiance of the restaurant was inviting -- it's the kind of place that easily prompts accidental three-hour dinners. I ate gli spaghetti amatriciana and Jenn had penne arrabiata (yes, the menu was even in Italian). After days of processed, prepackaged carbs and bland, mushy rice dishes, it was hard not to smile.

I'm off to retrieve my laundry... six days of public transit and dirty cities finally is getting cleaned out of my nasty clothes. Thank God.

And so it begins

After 30 hours on a train, 28 hours in a sketchy Chinese border town, and 9 hours on a bus and I finally find myself writing from my hostel in Hanoi. I have been wearing the same clothes since 5 a.m.on Saturday morning because it is so cold. We mistakenly thought Vietnam would be warm, but Hanoi is experiencing unusually chilly weather. I'm wearing every piece of warm-ish clothing I packed and I'm still chilled.

The journey thus far has been and adventure, as we expected. The train ride wasn't horrible, the beds were comfortable-ish and thankfully we had a shy, young couple sharing our cramped berth with. Many of the four person cabins were loaded up with two or three kids and piles of luggage, but ours was comfortable with normal amounts of bags and only four people. We relied solely on crackers, almonds, and peanut butter for the duration of the trip. Though our cabinmates felt a little sorry for us, so they bought us ramen.

Nanning (google it) is rough, unpolished China. It has the tall buildings and bright lights, but at street level it's gritty and well-worn. We inadvertantly found ourselves walking down a corridor of brothels and a half hour later we found ourselves in the middle of a porn market. Uncomfortable. We had to stay there for two nights in order to get our Vietnamese visa.

We got on the bus early this morning to drive to Hanoi. The drive was great -- the landscape was covered with the iconic limestone outcrop mountains bursting straight up out of the flat farmland. Layer upon foggy layer of mountains painted the landscape. I finally saw the China portrayed in mystical books and movies.

Vietnam is completely three-dimensional. The mountains from China get larger and more common throughout the northern tier of the country. The houses are a sloppy mix of shacks, concrete blocks, and three-story concrete houses with bright paint on the front and fancy fake shutters. Many of the houses proudly proclaim the year they were built --2006, 2009..etc. The roadside is filled with fruit and meat vendors -- we saw more than one torched hog for sale and countless stands selling pickled meats and unrecognizeable vegetables. Outside of each village were large cemetaries with colorful tombs commemorating lost loved ones. Altogether, Vietnam makes for a daring combination that leaves your eyes exhausted...and we've only just started our two-week adventure here.

Hanoi is a hot mess. A wonderful, edgy hot mess. You have to contantly look in every direction walking down the sidewalk, crossing the street, hopping aruond vendors squatting on the corners -- the activity is frantic and nothing will stop to wait.

Tomorrow we're going to Halong Bay and sleeping on a junk boat overnight. The day after tomorrow we're taking an overnight bus to Hoi An in the center of Vietnam. Hopefully it'll be much warmer than Hanoi. I'm ready for shorts and t-shirts. I really don't know how much access I'll have to computers or how much time I'll be able to spend on them. I will try keep this updated as much as I can as I go along, but I will have to recap with more indepth posts once I'm back in China. So be patient, my friends. I'll update you as much as I can, but it might be a bit sparse for the next month.

Cheers to adventuring!

Season finale

Alex and I just finished the last episode of Glee's first season. Three or four nights a week for the past two months have been devoted to watching Rachel being a diva and drooling over Puck and Finn. Granted, the disks had some damaged spots and they wouldn't always work (we bought them for less than $1 next door) but we made it through the entire season.


We've been joking that we're like a married couple -- we have our routine of working out, eating eggplant and rice, and settling down to watch Glee. We know each other's looks, we finish each other's sentences, we do all the cliche things that sisters or husbands and wives are best known for. It's like we have an umbilical cord that is about to be cut in a day and a half.


It appears that Alex will leave China much the way she came in, still convinced (as am I) that this country is an abusive boyfriend. Today was a gut-punching kind of day, which thankfully are becoming less frequent. I spent 90% of my day in a taxi or hunting for a taxi. As a result, my legs, elbows, and back of my head have all been grazed by trucks and mopeds zooming through intersections (don't worry mom, your daughter has quick reflexes). 


The cabs today were angry and impolite. This morning I rode in one for 30 minutes to go to a store that sells Canon products. I needed to buy a battery and a memory stick for my camera and they thankfully understood what I needed when I showed them. Even though the employees knew what I wanted, they proceeded with a 10 minute monologue of Lord knows what. I kept telling them "Wo ting bu dong! Wo ting bu dong!" (I don't understand!) Which only prompted them to speak louder and faster. (Take note America, this is a bad habit you have when interacting with non-native English speakers).


At any rate, I managed to escape the store with a headache and new camera accessories. Later this afternoon I had to go pick up my passport from the police station. I needed to get my visa renewed before I leave the country this weekend. Again I repeated the routine of hailing a cab for 20 minutes and trying to explain to him where I needed to go (I resorted to calling a Chinese friend). 


The police station was filled with overly helpful people who jovially shouted me to go in a direction I couldn't quite interpret. Another headache was on its way. I finally got my passport and checked my new visa; China has now staked its claim on a full five pages of my passport, gotta love bureaucracy.


I went home to get Alex so we could do some last minute shopping. In order to go shopping, we needed a taxi. Between 3 and 5 p.m. taxis are impossible to snatch because all of the drivers are switching shifts. For 30 minutes we waved down green lights who shooed us away (they were on break). Locals were trying to give us advice we couldn't understand, and at one point we had the crossing guard lobby on our behalf to a driver.


We cursed. We flipped people off. We gave pleading looks. We slammed doors. We shouted. We begged. We tried to be respectful and then we tried being the opposite of respectful. We both broke and followed every cross-cultural communication rule in the process of talking with nearly 20 drivers. No one would take us.


Dejected, we came back to our apartment. (In the process I knocked over some man's bike, I helped him pick it up and thankfully he wasn't angry... I was quickly crumbling). 


Today was a bad China day. I know when I come back next month, there will be many more bad China days in store, but I won't have Alex to commiserate with. I know I can do it on my own, but it won't be nearly as much fun. Our apartment already lacks character, subtract our antics and the place will be downright desolate come mid-February. In August, I was ready to tackle this place alone. That was before I knew what I was getting into. Having experienced it, I know I will be just fine -- it'll just be a little less comfortable.


When I was little, I would see pictures of huge cities like Tokyo, Shanghai and Hong Kong and be terrified by the dizzying lights, monolithic buildings, and mysterious symbols I couldn't interpret. I remember thinking that must be the most terrifying feeling in the world not being able to understand anything around you. 


During one of my many unpleasant taxi rides today, I looked at a sticker that was describing the fuel surcharge. The only part of it I could read was the price of gas. The rest of the symbols were beautiful but meaningless. I thought of those movie scenes I used to be scared of and the last emotion going through my body was fear. It was the most peculiar sense of accomplishment I've ever felt.


We have everything set to go for Saturday (except for packing, which must be done tomorrow). Overall I feel rather clueless about my trip, this is the longest and most spontaneous vacation I've ever taken. Though, spontaneity often leads to serendipity. If anything, the past three months have taught Alex and I that if the absurd is a possibility, it will often become reality. As Alex goes to the US and I head to southeast Asia, we'll cut our chord knowing we're capable of handling the most outrageous of situations. 


We'll also leave each other not knowing when or which country we'll see each other in. What a fantastic thought.

Wasted energy

I got a fresh light bulb in my room today. It's a fluorescent bulb that makes everything in my room look pink in comparison to the thick gold incandescent glow from the living room. Our doorman arranged a pyramid of three chairs in my room and spent 10 minutes trying to get the fixture off of the ceiling.


Even though the light is uncomfortable, it's nice having a bright room past 5 p.m. It was inconvenient and creepy using my computer or cell phone to dig through my closet or shuffle around my desk to find something in the dark. 


Earlier today I dropped more than $100USD to pay for half of last month's heat bill. Mind you, our university gives us a $50 monthly stipend to cover all of our utility costs. I'm angry and frustrated, because Alex and I have been thoroughly chilly since December 1. Right now, we're both sitting on my bed in flannel pants, thick socks, long sleeves, and zip-up fleece sweatshirts. Don't get me wrong, I'm comfortable at the moment but I wouldn't go as far go call our situation "cozy."


Having a dark bedroom and a huge heat bill helped me realize an interesting paradox between Chinese and American energy usage. I think both countries could take a lesson or two from one another. 


Per capita, Chinese people use one-fifth of the energy that Americans do. Granted, that's keeping in mind that somewhere between 1.5 and 2 billion people live here, and a huge chunk of that population scarcely has access to electricity whatsoever. Most energy usage in China is concentrated on manufacturing and construction (no surprise there). The creature comforts of walking around your apartment barefoot in January or wearing a light cardigan in your office mid-winter are mostly forgone in exchange for 24/7 construction sites and ultra-efficient factories. 


Here people think nothing of wearing parkas in doors or wearing thick, velvet pajama pant suits (yes, suits) out in public. There also seems to be much less light pollution, the bullet train ride back from Shanghai was eerily dark, especially given the millions upon millions of people who live between the two cities.


On the other hand, it's no wonder our electric bill was so expensive while our toes remain frozen: our apartment is essentially a concrete ice cube. There is no insulation and two of our windows don't even properly fit the frame. There is at least a five degree temperature difference between my feet on the floor and my head 63 inches above. 


From what I've gathered, there's an arbitrary line drawn somewhere north of Hangzhou where buildings quit being constructed with insulation. In the northern tiers of the country, buildings are build to better withstand the winter (and subsequently the summers as well) but further south, the idea of insulation is apparently frivolous and unnecessary. 


So here's my proposal for our two countries: America, you need to be more ok with relying on energy-efficient lights at night. And you need to be fine with accepting that running around in a tank top in your house in January (especially in the midwest) is not seasonally nor climate appropriate.


China, you need to take a breather. Slow down your construction. Broker a contract with an earth-friendly insulation company that utilizes recycled materials, like blue jeans for example. Build some concrete buildings with staying power -- the kind where people shouldn't have to spend nearly 1/3 of their monthly paycheck trying to keep the shivers away.


Collectively, we'll all use less electricity and we'll be much more comfortable. Think about it.