Barbara's Travel Blog

Under the Tuscan Sun with my mom

For our last day in Tuscany, we rented another Smart Car and headed southeast this time, toward Arezzo and Cortona. We’d read good things about Arezzo in one of our books, and even better about Cortona, which was made famous in Frances Mayes’ Under the Tuscan Sun.

The drive to Arezzo took a few hours by back roads that wound through rolling hills of grape vines and olive trees, interspersed with villages, towns and castles. But as we navigated our way through the suburbs into the center of Arezzo, we realized it was much bigger than we’d anticipated. We weren’t interested in being anywhere large enough to have suburbs, so we nixed that part of the plan and continued on to Cortona.

Thankfully, Cortona was all that and a bag of bruschetta. Perched on top of a hill with stellar views, Cortona is cute and quaint personified, with winding little streets, window flower boxes, open-air restaurants, and tiny shops with friendly shopkeepers. I can see why Frances Mayes fell in love with the town.

Heading back to Florence, we opted for the faster route of the toll highway, zipping back to Florence in about an hour. We had time to spare, so we drove up to Piazzale Michelangelo, a peak with spectacular views of the city. We were so pleased we had time to stop there, but in the end it meant another race back to the rental car office in order to make the 7pm deadline. Thank goodness we don’t have any more plans to rent cars on this trip, because another one of those crunch endings might just be too much for both of us!

In the pink city

On the train from Ranthambhore to Jaipur yesterday, I ran into Jeff, an American I had met on one of my safaris, and his dad, Chuck. They were heading to Jaipur as well, and decided to stay in the same hotel as me. When we arrived, we found Lori and Joe from Canada, and Lisa and Mark from Washington D.C., all of whom I’d met in the train station in Agra, where we spent a few hours together waiting for our delayed trains. All seven of us headed out for dinner and drinks last night before Lisa and Mark caught a midnight train.

Our hotel, the Pearl Palace, is a gem, with a cute rooftop bar, artistic decorations, funky furniture, and wi-fi (for a fee). And all for a mere 400 rupees a night (less than $10). Right now I’m camped out in the Internet room on a couch that looks fit for a king (or in this case a queen).

So far I’m liking Jaipur much better than Agra, thanks in large part to the great hotel and my new group of friends. But like all Indian cities (at least in my experience thus far), it is noisy, crowded, hectic and demanding. My patience with Indian cities is starting to wear thin, so it’s a good thing this is my last city before I head to Goa, land of small towns and lazy beaches.

I did have to laugh last night though at a conversation Lori, Joe and I had with our rickshaw driver on the way to dinner. His name was Han, and he was particularly interested in me, since I am single and American. He said he likes to meet American women for drinks and dancing, because they are more “open-minded.” I said, “You mean more willing to sleep with you, right?” To which he replied, “Exactly.” We couldn’t help but laugh, and hey, he gets points for honesty.

I spent this morning exploring what is known as the “pink city,” so named because virtually all of the buildings in the old city (a walled-in area that contains the palace and lots of older buildings) are painted a dusty pink. I think I blended in pretty well with my surroundings there, what with the fact that my version of a tan is rather pinkish, and I was definitely coated in a layer of dust after walking around there for a few hours.

Among the more interesting sights of the old city were the city palace, which is both a museum and a living palace that is still inhabited by the royal family (and their red-turbaned guards); Jantar Mantar, an unusual observatory filled with giant, bizarre instruments used for calculating time and tracking the positions of the sun and stars; and Hawa Mathal, a pink sandstone, honeycomb structure that was built to enable the ladies of the royal household to watch the goings-on of the city without actually stepping out into it.

Unfortunately, as always, the rickshaw drivers, shop owners and beggars wore me down long before I lost interest in the sights. There are so many fascinating things to see here, but it often feels like a monumental effort to do so.

Last hurrah in McLeodganj

This weekend the gods decided to favor us with spectacular weather for my final weekend in Dharamsala. The sun was shining all weekend, and we shed our jeans and sweaters for t-shirts and capris. Ayala, Ben and I headed to McLeodganj for the weekend to get in some final shopping, complete our three-day cooking course, and escape the madness of the now-crowded volunteer house.

Friday night we spotted posters for a “mega-concert” that was a benefit for a Tibetan women’s program. We knew the Himalayas were playing, but we were surprised to find it was actually a variety show – though it felt more like a high school talent show. There were ear-splitting Tibetan singers, a three-person circus act from New Mexico (slightly random), a Tibetan comedian (not particularly funny, since we don’t speak Tibetan), and several of our “favorite” American cover songs by the Himalayas. The best part by far though was during one of the Himalayas’ songs when a couple dancers come out and rocked the house with the most energetic dance performance I’ve ever seen.

Saturday was the final of our three-evening Indian cooking class with Mrs. Nisha. She runs the Taste of India restaurant in McLeodganj, and during the course she taught us how to cook about a dozen delicious dishes, including my personal favorites malai kofta, palak paneer, samosas and rice pudding. We got hands-on practice preparing samosas, so hopefully I’ll be able to recreate the magic at home.

Of course, no weekend in India is complete without spotting a few entertaining signs and labels. My favorites of the last couple days were the trash can sponsored by the Jedi Knights, and the drinking water bottled by a plywood manufacturer. Because nothing says clean water like plywood.

Indian Culture 101: Festivals and Weddings

On Thursday Kathleen and Justine departed, and on Sunday Jason, Monica, Hannah and Liz followed, leaving just Ben, Ayala, Heidi and I for the next week. We were sad to see the others go, but are curious to meet the new volunteers, who will arrive next week.

Meanwhile, in the last few days have been one fun lesson after another in Indian culture. This weekend was Holi festival, which celebrates the coming of spring with drinking, dancing and color. Everyone runs around for two days dousing each other with colored water, rubbing colored powder on one another, and pelting everyone with water balloons.

Ayala and I walked around town a little on Saturday and got moderately covered with colored powder, which seemed to deeply amuse the locals. I don’t think they’re used to seeing westerners participate in their customs.

Then on Sunday we celebrated Holi with the CCS staff, which made Saturday pale in comparison. The staff – and soon the rest of too – didn’t hold back in rubbing vast amounts of colored powder in our hair, on our faces and on our clothes. Lalu and Goldy got on the roof and doused anyone foolish (or drunk) enough to stand near the building with buckets of water. We played drinking games, danced, and were just generally silly. We all agreed we need to start up Holi celebrations in the U.S. – it beats the pants off our commercial-driven, colored-powder-lacking holidays.

In the midst of all the Holi celebrations, we also witnessed the build-up to the wedding of our next-door neighbor’s son. For days the house has been decorated and we’ve enjoyed the sounds of live bands and singing for hours on end. We were invited to the actual wedding ceremony, so Ayala and I had our hands hennaed that day, which women traditionally do for weddings.

The ceremony was held last night at a community hall about an hour’s drive from Dharamsala. That is, it would have been an hour if we had made no stops. But our two-van caravan stopped multiple times to pre-party by the roadside, so we were pretty lively by the time we got there (don’t worry Mom, the drivers weren’t drinking). For some reason, drinking at weddings is only for family and is restricted to special areas, so everyone else gets lit in advance, and/or secretly drinks from their own stash at the reception.

The wedding itself was a whirlwind. We arrived around 9pm, and shortly thereafter the bride was brought in. The crowd (which we were told was about 500 people) then rushed the stage to take endless photos and video. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought the bride and groom were celebrities. The actual ceremony involved the two of them placing wreaths of flowers over each other’s heads – and that’s it, now they’re married. There was recently a big scandal where a bride got all the way to the stage, then put the wreath over her lover’s head instead of the groom. And thus she was able to marry her lover, because once the wreath is placed, that’s it – no undoing it.

After the wreath-swap, we enjoyed the trays of food that passed non-stop and joined in the dancing a bit. Unfortunately, one guy got a little overly friendly with Heidi, and when it was time to go, he kept insisting that she couldn’t leave, because she had promised him another dance. One of the staffers pulled us out of there and we gratefully made our escape.

We did wonder why we were leaving after being there only an hour and a half though. It turns out that they were about to begin a long ceremony that involves walking around a fire several times, and if we hadn’t left then, we would have had to stay through the whole thing. So off we went for our extremely bumpy ride home, stopping once to change a punctured tire – such are the risks of driving in India.

Today I stayed home from volunteering – apparently amidst all the excitement of the last few days, something didn’t sit well with my stomach… again. I wonder how long it takes to build up the iron stomach this country requires? More than three weeks, of this I am sure.

More photos at http://babas.typepad.com/photos/my_gap_year_3/.

My old stomping grounds

I arrived Friday in Hong Kong, and I'm enjoying hanging out with friends and not being a tourist for a bit. It's comfortable being here - I know how everything works, and don't have to think about how to do basic stuff, which is a nice break after the last two months.

I'm staying at my friend Stephanie's apartment. She and her boyfriend Peter are both at a conference in the U.S. this week, so I have the place all to myself. Some of you may remember Stephanie as the person who covered for me during my sabbatical a few years ago.

Saturday night I went out with Faith, Mike, Meera and Claire for drinks and Tapas in Soho, then Sunday I met Faith and Mike for brunch, a walk through the park, and pedicures. In some ways it's like I never left Hong Kong, but in other ways I can't believe how quickly things change here. Several of my favorite businesses have moved (some more than once, apparently), and little things have changed - for example, my favorite breakfast at Pacific Coffee (the ham and cheese croissant) no longer exists. One thing definitely hasn't changed though - the smelly cabs!

I'll be in Hong Kong until Friday, then spend one night in Bangkok before flying to New Delhi for my volunteer program on the 10th. We have a few days of training in New Delhi, then we will take an overnight bus to Dharamsala. They sent out the list of volunteers starting on the same date as me, and there's about 20, including one other women from Portland. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone, and to settling into the volunteer house and my new job for six weeks. I've definitely found in the last week that I'm ready to stop traveling and being a tourist for a while, so the timing of my volunteer assignment starting couldn't be better.

Goodbye Vietnam

I can't believe I've left Vietnam. I'm now in the air on my way back to Bangkok. It feels unreal - after just a month, Vietnam has begun to feel like home, and it's hard to fathom returning to overly touristed Thailand.

I spent the last couple days in the Mekong Delta, where there are as many rivers and canals as streets, and the water is an intrinsic part of everyday life. It was swelteringly hot, so the most minor efforts felt Herculean, and everywhere I turned there were new and even more disturbing odors assaulting me. This is actually the Mekong's dry season, so water levels were lower than usual and what's left is stagnant with the smell of sulfur and decaying garbage.

Nevertheless, life on the river is fascinating, with many families living on boats that transport goods between the Delta and Saigon. Peering into their boats, I saw living room, bedroom and kitchen in one - but no toilet or shower - the river serves that purpose. The river is also where they wash their dishes and food; if nothing else, they benefit from iron stomachs hardened from years of bacterial abuse.

The tour group I was with visited several excessively touristy sites, including coconut candy makers, snake wine makers, rice noodle makers and native musicians. I succumbed to the pressure to buy a few things, but mostly I just tried to observe what was going on beyond the tour.

Then again, though it was clearly tourist-oriented, my favorite part of the trip was paddling in small boats down a narrow canal. A local woman in bare feet squatted at the front of the boat, steering our way through mangrove trees and other boats. This was the quietest moment I had in two days - all I could hear was the water splashing against the boat, the other boats occasionally bumping against ours, and occasionally friendly exchanges between the boat operators. It reminded me of kayaking, when you're so low to the water that you almost become part of it.

I also enjoyed the floating market, where farmers from around the Delta come to sell their crops on the river. Hundreds of boats crunch together, competing for space and attention among local buyers and tourists alike. Each family hangs a sampling of their wares from a large stick that rises up from their boat, so that everyone can see exactly what they sell. Some were like supermarkets, offering a full range of fruit and vegetables, while others specialized in just one item.

Toward the end of the trip, the tour group voted and opted to go off the beaten path to a little village and just wander around, instead of going to the rice husking factory (thank goodness). I really enjoyed seeing ordinary, day-to-day life away from the typical tourist spots, even if in all the wandering around I did get bitten by a red ant. I think they're red because they're angry. Why are you so angry, little ants?

Now that I have finished my time in Vietnam, I can't help but reflect a bit over the last month. It's always hard to say if your experience in a place is good or bad because of the place itself, or because of where you were at mentally and emotionally while you were there. All I can say is that one way or another, I have been happier and felt more like myself in the last month than I have in the last two years. Whether that's due to me, or Vietnam, or both... I guess only time will tell.

P.S. I know it's childish, but I couldn't help but take a photo of this boat (click on the photo to see what I mean)...

Dune day - give me a dollar!

My butt is numb, there's sand wedged in the zoom lever of my camera, and I've got backpack straps sunburned onto my back. Can you guess where I've been today?

This morning I headed out with three Australians from my hotel - Michael, Paige and Cameron - to check out Mui Ne's two sets of dunes, one red and one white. We rented a couple motorbikes and set off around 9am.

First up was a stop at a nearby fishing village, where we were accosted by some very lively children, who, like so many kids in Vietnam, had their hands out and knew a few English phrases: "Hello," "What's your name?" and "Give me a dollar." I really wish someone would send these kids to school, because there will come a point very soon when people are no longer willing to pay them just because they're cute and demanding. Our group was already at that point.

Next on the agenda was the red dunes, which sounded cooler to me than white dunes, but according to the hotel staff are far inferior. They were right, but I still enjoyed seeing the striking red sand against the vivid blue sky. I did not, however, enjoy the constant pestering of the kids who wanted me to pay to slide down the dunes on their plastic mats.

Finally, we set off on what was supposed to be a 35km drive to the white dunes. We went a bit too far (about 15km too far, in fact), but eventually doubled back and found them. En route, we shared the road with goats and cows, and stopped for a drink where I was pinched and patted by locals who wanted to feel my white skin and compare it to their darker tones.

When at last we got to them, the white dunes were worth the trip - massive, striking, surreal and isolated - not just another tourist in sight. Finally, here was a place that was genuine, with no tourist facilities and no one trying to sell me anything.

Of course, that's about when we all started to realize we were getting sunburned. And the prospect of 35 more kilometers on the motorbike to get back to the hotel wasn't exactly thrilling. Today I learned that after an hour on a motorbike, your butt continues to tingle for about 10 minutes, and your arms feel like they have ants crawling all over them.

But don't worry - it's nothing a $10 full-body massage couldn't clear up.

More photos at http://babas.typepad.com/photos/my_gap_year_2/.

P.S. More fun with menus...

A darling city

After my day of R&R, yesterday I was feeling reenergized and excited about exploring a new city. I didn't know much about Hoi An beyond that it comes highly recommended by everyone who's been here, and it's known as the place in Vietnam to get custom-tailored clothing.

Though my travel-weariness had abated, the rain hadn't, so I found myself slogging through puddles and exchanging sympathetic glances with the rare fellow tourists I encountered. It was well worth it though - I quickly became enchanted with Hoi An's narrow, winding streets lined with quaint shops and cafes, which reminded me surprisingly of a quaint Italian town.

After meandering through the central market and visiting the best-known tourist spot in town - the covered Japanese bridge - I made my way to a tailor that had been recommended to me, and proceeded to order not only the two tops I had planned, but also a skirt and three pairs of pants - all of which they said would be ready by 5pm.

Sure enough, at five everything was done, and I liked what they'd done so much, I ended up ordering two more pairs of pants, a dress, another skirt, and two more tops. The prices are similar to what you'd pay for clothes at Old Navy, but using quality fabrics of your choice, and all custom-made to fit your exact measurements. It was difficult not to order even more, but it's already hard enough as is to fit everything in my suitcase each time I move.

I also ordered a pair of custom-made shoes - something cute and strappy and completely unsensible. Because for $12, unsensible shoes suddenly don't seem so unsensible.

On top of the general cuteness, great shopping and of course my fabulous hotel, Hoi An also seems to have consistently great food. I haven't had a bad meal here yet, and many of the restaurants have a nice view of the river that runs through town. They also offer some interesting services - for a fee, of course (see photo).

I really hope I have a chance to come back and spend more time here some day. Two days just don't do it justice, and I can only imagine how lovely it must be when it's not the rainy season.

P.S. Since writing this, the rain has dried up, so today I was able to use one of the hotel's free bikes and pedal around town. It was not the best bike for me - it would have been a better fit for my friend Kim or my aunt Pat - but I still had lots of fun dodging the "moto-bikes" and the many pedestrians. I tried on my second round of clothes and ended up ordering even more. Help, I'm addicted to tailored clothing!

Get on the bus, Gus

So far on this journey I have spent plenty of quality time on planes, trains and motorbikes - but not much thus far on buses. Then the fates stepped in, and more than corrected that in the last two days.

Upon arriving in Hue on Wednesday, I found a tour company recommended in the Rough Guide to see what I should see while in Hue. I'm not a fan of big group tours, but since I only had one full day there (Thursday), I booked a whirlwind, see-it-all-in-a-day bus tour. It cost a whopping US $7, including lunch. Gotta love the value of the dollar in Vietnam.

In the morning we saw three tombs of former Vietnamese kings, two of which were very peaceful and park-like, and the other quite opulent and ornate - no surprise, since that one was for the gay king. I especially liked the painted ceiling, which made it worth climbing more than 120 stairs to get there.

As always, there were entertaining signs, this time revealing an apparent distaste for lying. I'm trying to imagine who goes to the trouble to go to visit these tombs (which are pretty far outside of town), then decides they'd like to nap on top of them.

Next we visited a village where handicapped people make incense and conical hats. Both were interesting, but I was especially fascinated by the incense, which it turns out is rolled from a large lump of scented clay-like substance, which is not at all how I would have imagined it.

The afternoon was consumed with a trip to the old Imperial City, where the kings of the former monarchy used to live. Most of it was destroyed during the French and American wars, but they are in the process of rebuilding it, and it should be done in about 13 years (be sure and mark your calendars). I was excited to find out there were elephants there, but opted not to take a ride on one, since upon closer inspection, they didn't seem very happy.

We finished off the day with a visit to one of the more dramatic of Hue's many pagodas. I was amused to spy a herd of cows trotting down the city street in front of the pagoda, competing with motorbikes and cars.

As I write this, I'm getting more quality bus time, in the form of a five-hour trip to Hoi An, where I will spend the next two nights. Today I woke up to pouring rain, which is making it less-than-appealing to get off the bus at the various viewpoint stops. There are two little Vietnamese boys who are entertaining me though. They are fascinated with my laptop and headphones, and are now rocking out to Beck, which I'm finding quite amusing.

Last but not least, is it just me, or all these dolls a bit disturbing?

More photos at http://babas.typepad.com/photos/my_gap_year_2/index.html.

Halong Bay's Revenge

Many years ago, while traveling on the west coast of Costa Rica, I thought it apropos (though of course still frustrating) when I came down with a case of Montezuma's Revenge in the actual town of Montezuma. You play with fire, you get burned, right? So you can imagine my dismay when a similar fate beset me in Halong Bay, Vietnam. Who's ever heard of Halong Bay's Revenge?

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning…

A few days ago I departed (along with Hans, a friend from the hostel in Hanoi) for a three-day tour of Halong Bay, which is known by some as the eighth wonder of the world. The area is famous for its thousands of towering limestone mini-islands, which rise spectacularly from the ocean.

The tour involved spending one day and night puttering around the harbor on a junk boat, followed by one day and night on Cat Ba island. I was pleased to find that both our tour guide and everyone in the tour group seemed like nice and interesting people - rather important when you're going to be trapped together for a few days.

Our first view of the striking limestone cliffs was over lunch, which most of us quickly abandoned to rush outside and start oohing, ahhing and snapping photos. It's difficult to capture how breathtaking Halong Bay is in photos, but the closest I came to doing it justice was when I discovered a feature on my camera that allows me to take a series of photos and "stitch" them together into a panoramic shot.

After a lovely time on the boat, we disembarked on Cat Ba island for a ride on a traditional (read, rickety) fishing boat, to go see a cave. (You'll note that there are few cave photos in my albums. I'm a little caved out at the moment.) For me, the best parts were observing the boat captain, who sported a combination of bare feet and suit jacket, and seeing the tiny, stilted fishermen's houses along the side of the river.

Now, regarding the aforementioned "revenge" - it's unclear where it all began, since no one else on the trip got sick. But I have some suspicions about the lunch on Cat Ba island, which have resulted in my warm feelings about the Barbie spoon over lunch turning a bit sour in hindsight.

After lunch, we commenced with another boat ride, during which I started to feel ill. In case you've been living in a cave (again, not my favorite place at the moment), you can probably recognize that on a boat is not the best place for food/bacterial poisoning to commence. I was in agony for the next few hours, though I believe that the good photos I snapped during those few hours demonstrate that art is truly derived from suffering. Oh, the suffering.

The next 15 hours passed in blur, as my body performed an exorcism on itself, attempting to expel everything inside it in every way possible. Thankfully, the travel gods put a stop to the madness in time for the two-hour boat ride and four-hour bus ride back to Hanoi. I was nauseous and spacey, but it could have been much worse.

Now I'm back on solid ground and feeling much better after a night's rest. Today is New Year's Eve though and there's a big party at the hostel tonight, so I imagine tomorrow I'll be feeling less than stellar again. But at least this time it's for a good cause.

As always, there are more photos at http://babas.typepad.com/photos/my_gap_year/.