tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26912872789306330152024-02-21T01:07:46.814-08:00Spicysaltybittersweetness...Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-46003807073146934422015-07-15T07:00:00.001-07:002015-07-15T07:00:16.960-07:00Eight things I've learned from eight months in Bangkok<div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Eight things I've noticed from eight months in Bangkok</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">1.) Walking with purpose doesn't exist here. Neither does multi-tasking. Especially when talking on the phone and/or texting is involved. And don't even get me started on the packs of people who drag their feet and their carcasses along at a snail's pace and won't let anyone pass them. If only I owned a Kalashnikov...</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">2.) Vehicles have the right of way and pedestrian crossings actually mean 'step on the accelerator'.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">3.) Passive aggressiveness isn't a positive attribute.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">4.) Safety is underrated.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">5.)The closer people are to denture-wearing age, the more inclined they are to elbow you or shove you out of their way. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">6.) Pop culture seems to be fascinating to most. But not to me. Do yourself a favor: go broaden your horizons & increase your rapidly-dwindling attention span by reading a fookin' book or meditating or something.</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">7.) Looking you up and down seems to be a popular pastime amongst the females in this city, but even more so in rural areas. Judging a book by its cover is soooo fifth world...</div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">8.) Few seem to grasp the concept that 195 other nations exist in the world. It's one thing to be a nationalist, and another thing, entirely, to be ignorant. </div>Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-36001673038965105782014-10-14T11:32:00.000-07:002015-05-29T16:20:58.172-07:00Beware of the Ativan Gang and other scams in Manila!<br />
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #4a4a4a; line-height: 19px;">On October 14, 2014, at around 5 pm or so, I was walking up Roxas Blvd along Manila Bay, towards the ferris wheel. There were many people hanging around, some just lounging, some were fishing in the bay. I had just passed Aristocrats Restaurant when I was approached by 2 women, a chubby light-skinned Filipina with a round face, that looked to be in her early 30's and about 5 feet tall, with dyed light brown hair that was just past her shoulders, and the other looked to be in her 60's and was very petite, maybe 4'9, with a darker complexion and short black hair. She was dressed in a purple top, and what looked to be a traditional Filipino style purple skirt, and purple plastic thong sandals. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #4a4a4a; line-height: 19px;">The younger woman complimented me on my green dress, she said green was her favorite color. She also said she liked my height, and how did I get so tall? She was wearing a t-shirt that accentuated her bulbous belly, and jean shorts. The 2 women asked me what my name was and told me theirs', the younger chubby one was named Karyn, and the older petite one was named Imelda. They asked if this was my first visit to Manila and I replied that it was. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #4a4a4a; line-height: 19px;">I asked if they were visiting Manila as well and they told me that they had had to evacuate their home in Legazpi, south of Mayon volcano, that the impending eruptions had led to volcanic ash contaminating the air and their water supply. They asked me whether I was alone, and if I had any plans. I said I didn't. They said they were on their way to visit a church made of all metal and said I should see the church and ride in a jeepney, and asked if I would like to come along. I took some selfies with Karyn since she was seated next to me in the jeepney, and she warned me about letting others see expensive phones. She said people snatch phones out of jeepneys all the time, and necklaces also. She looked at my necklace and asked what it was made of. I told her it was white gold. In retrospect, I should have said it was tinfoil. She was wearing a white gold ring with a small white diamond set in it on her left middle finger.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px; text-align: center;"> Imelda said she had researched how to get to this all metal church, but when we got there, it seemed like she had been there before. She halfheartedly walked me around the church and then we went outside. I placed some money in the donation box outside, lit a candle, and placed it in the candlelabra, and prayed for my deceased loved ones. Imelda took pictures of me with my camera while I was lighting the votive. We all walked back inside the church and Imelda and Karyn both touched the holy water and prayed. When we left the church, I asked a security guard to take a few photos of the three of us, with San Sebastian church in the background. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> San Sebastian Church in Quiapo</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">Imelda and Karyn walked around like they knew the area very well, and we ended up at a small non-descript local shop that served beer and had a karaoke machine. Karyn and Imelda insisted that I have some beer. Imelda said she was very stressed about having to evacuate her home and needed to relax with a beer, and I should drink with her. Karen and Imelda wanted to sing karaoke, but the shop was obviously closing soon, so we went to Golden Banana Eatery. Imelda said her male relative would be joining us, but she said she didn't tell him they were with a foreign guest, as he was very shy, and still single. We ordered a few rounds of San Miguel, lechon, mami, buttered chicken, and sang several karaoke songs. Karyn went to 7-11 during dinner, but was gone for quite some time. She had some candy in her hand when she came back and fed it to me. I went to the toilet once while we were at Golden Banana Eatery. Yes, my glass was unattended. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #4a4a4a; line-height: 19px;">A few rounds of beer will not normally make me feel even slightly intoxicated, mind you. I remember paying 500 pesos of the 1100 peso bill, because I ordered the majority of the food and ate most of it. I vaguely remember Karyn taking my necklace off, and me grabbing it from her fat hand and stuffing it in my pouch. I remember walking out of the Golden Banana Eatery, and I think Karyn was holding my hand, which I thought was strange.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was also convinced that I had to go to the atm, but I was very groggy at that point and didn't know why I was at the atm in the first place because I had cash in my wallet, and I noticed Karyn was peering at the keypad. Perhaps I had been coerced into going to the atm? I told her I needed privacy when I saw her keep looking over my shoulder. I don't remember anything after this. I have a bunch of receipts that say no money was dispensed due to incorrect pin entry, thank Buddha. If I remember correctly, I had $22, 2500 baht, and 7,000 pesos in my wallet before i ran into Karyn and Imelda. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I must have fallen down at some point because I have a scrape on my right elbow and a small abrasion on my right pinky finger. I remember bits of staggering into Tune Hotel Ermita lobby, and blacking out. I woke up fully clothed, alone, and in my hotel bed. The next day, I was very very groggy and went downstairs to buy food at 7-11, but struggled to walk. The 7-11 clerk said i owed her 160 pesos from the previous night, so I paid her. I had a few hundred pesos left in my wallet, but everything else was cleared out. My white gold necklace, worth $250, was also gone. All the photos of Karyn, Imelda, and I, had been deleted. I'm surprised they hadn't taken my camera or my cellphones. The 7-11 security guard asked me if I remembered what had happened the previous night. I was so groggy I didn't think to ask him why? I even missed my flight to Puerto Princesa City that day because I was so disoriented. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">I've traveled solo through all of Southeast Asia and parts of Western Europe, and I usually have my wits about me, but being drugged and robbed is not a situation I ever imagined myself in, and I don't wish it upon anyone. I later read that there is at least one robbery every day in Ermita, and that local authorities have done nothing to protect tourists. Be warned when visiting Manila. There are scam artists everywhere, starting at NAIA Airport with non-metered white van taxis that charge 5 times the normal metered fare. You are forewarned.</span></div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Makati, Metro Manila, Philippines14.554729 121.0244451999999514.4932525 120.94376419999995 14.6162055 121.10512619999994tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-19147993215268509492014-10-03T01:30:00.000-07:002015-07-19T05:05:58.486-07:00My Solo Journey to Preah Vihear<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wow. What an adventure. I left Sikhiu on Wed Oct 1, 2014 and got to Korat Bus Terminal around noon that day. The bus to Kantharalak would depart </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 2pm</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> but it was 10 to 3 when it actually departed. The entire bus, save for 3 civilians including me, was full of Thai soldiers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I got to Kantharalak just before <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">9 pm</a>, I was greeted by a light show of a carnival directly adjacent to the bus terminal. It was bizarre that this non-descript looking town had a massive carnival, and a large Tesco Lotus as well! 2 drivers for hire approached me and I inquired about my intended destination: Preah Vihear, the 11th century temple nestled in the mountains separating Thailand and Kampuchea, which has been the subject of border disputes for the last decade or so, since part of the temple is in Kantharalak district, on Thai soil, and part is in Choam Khsant province, on Kampuchean soil.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Casualties and losses have occured, including damage to the temple. The 2 drivers for hire told me that the closest border had been closed due to unrest and I would have to hire a car and driver to get there. One of the men was wearing a severely faded pink t shirt and had sak yant tattoos. I asked for a moment and walked to the information booth of the empty bus terminal. There was a man seated there who looked like he was dozing off and I asked him if I really had to hire a car and driver to Preah Vihear. He said yes, that that was the case. Ugh!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> The man in the pink t shirt had followed me in and I asked for his phone number in case i needed his services. He showed me a guesthouse right around the corner from the bus terminal and I thanked him and went in search of a clean bed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The rooms at Sala Villa were pretty decent, and clean. I asked the receptionist about transport to Preah Vihear and she told me the same thing that I was told at the bus terminal, the border at Kantharalak closest to Preah Vihear had been closed. Ughhh. She yelled across the room at a man across the lobby and asked if he'd be willing to drive that way. Apparently he was the receptionist's brother. He also quoted 300 less than the drivers at the bus terminal. I said, "Alright, <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">5:30 am tomorrow</a>. See you then." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And so the journey began the following day, about 150 km to Choam border, and some of the roads were paved, but with huge potholes. If the driver's truck had been an automatic, he surely would have lost his transmission, a couple times. We arrived at the Choam immigration checkpoint just after <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">7:30</a>. I thanked my driver and paid him, then proceeded to have my passport inspected.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> When i had officially arrived in Kampuchea, there were a group of smartly dressed immigration officers sat around a table, not doing much of anything. I told them where I intended to go, and one of them told me it was another 250 km away from the checkpoint. Ha! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The only attraction near Choam border was a bloody casino. I had used my Thai passport to enter Kampuchea, and Thais are forbidden to enter Preah Vihear. I had to speak to yet another immigration officer, showed him on my passport that I was actually born in the USA, and he relented and told me, under no circumstances, should I show my Thai passport to anyone, or speak any Thai while I was at Preah Vihear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The price quoted for a car and driver was absolutely horrendous, (a little over $100) but I said,"Fuck it. I'm here. Let's go!" So off we went, my driver and I, through many red dirt roads, herds of cows, villages, and after stopping on numerous occasions at military checkpoints, I spotted the Dangrek Mountains where my coveted temple was built on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We passed several military checkpoints, ornate gated homes, wood houses on stilts with red tiled ceilings in rows like little soldiers, and finally, a path with makeshift wooden structures on either side and a little shanty hut with a sleepy soldier in it. I don't think my driver had ever been to Preah Vihear because he stopped on several occasions for directions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We drove right by Preah Vihear ticket booth and had to make a u turn up the red dirt road and then pulled into the ticket booth. The entire place was teeming with monks and locals, I never saw a single tourist the entire time I was there. Tickets were on a donation basis. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">From the ticket booth, the path up the mountain could only be accessed by motorbike, $5 for a bike with a driver.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> At first I thought the girl at the ticket booth meant I had to ride the bike up 525 meters on my own and I laughed, cuz it might have taken me 2 days to get up there. The moto driver was very very skilled, thank buddha, and he had a green plastic container filled with petrol strapped to the middle console of his motorbike. The inclines were severely steep, but the view! Oh the view! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I nearly flew off a few times, as I was too busy gawking at the scenery. We passed a few shacks that were people's homes and a few hundred meters away, parked the bike. It was about <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://6" x-apple-data-detectors-result="6" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">10:30 am</a> at the time. There were several food stalls, and I bought a bottle of water, then proceeded up a slushy stone path. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There was natural spring water seeped out everywhere, and the stone path had been eroded in many places. A few hundred more meters and I saw 2 blue flags, a Kampuchean flag, and my long awaited ruins. Preah Vihear, declared a UNESCO site in 2008, was built along a north-south axis, unlike the rectangular plan of most Angkor temples. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The temple is about 800 meters from beginning to end, and is quite easy to climb, albeit uphill. Many of the steps were actually huge misshapen boulders with gaps throughout. I wonder how strong people in olden days must have been to carry boulders up a mountain to build such an impressive structure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was loitering about near the top tier of ruins and a Khmer soldier was perched on a cliff with his telescope and gestured for me to come over. He said," Look! See Thailand!" I held the telescope to my eye and saw a Thai flag & red roofed sala perched on the Thai side of the mountains, and it was teeming with tourists and a few Thai soldiers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> It felt weird, like I was spying on my own country or something. I thanked the soldier, turned his telescope back towards him, and began my journey back down the mountain. Another dream, fulfilled. </span></div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Preah Vihear, Cambodia14.0085797 104.8454619000000312.0348632 102.26367490000003 15.9822962 107.42724890000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-83761149248458430672013-07-03T06:41:00.001-07:002015-05-30T19:04:32.597-07:00Bangkok--->Koh Chang<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica;">
Recollections of this morning...The V.I.P. bus (ooooooooh fancyyyy) took longer than expected, and was tardy from the very start. A motorbike had picked me up and dropped me off at the roundabout, where 10 or so other passengers were already impatiently waiting. Normally, it's a 6 hour journey from a Bangkok to Trat Province. Today was clearly my lucky day because the voyage ended up taking 8 hours. The female bus attendant apologized to me about good ol' Bangkok traffic.<br />
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When we arrived at Centerpoint Ferry Pier, every single passenger ferociously hurled themselves off the bus, and shoved in front of everyone else to grab their luggage, and more shoving with a little added elbowing ensued, as we approached the ferry ticket counter. Were we not all boarding the same large ferry, headed for the same island? What is the difference in a matter of minutes? Sheesh! Somehow, common courtesy and manners were conveniently misplaced when the crowd had been festering on a coach for too long?!<br />
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The shuttle from the coach to the pier was packed to the brim, with not even half a vacant seat. As such, I took made my own standing spot next to one of the rails, and dangled precariously, half inside, and half outside of the vehicle, with my arm wrapped tightly around the rail. A young boy, of about 9 or 10 years of age, with a shaggy, grown out rice bowl haircut, and large, black rimmed spectacles, stood up and gave me his seat. His mother beamed at my protests and chuckled with an ever-so-slight, charming French drawl to her English, "He's just trying to be a gentleman." I think she had a lot to do with that. Well done, mom. </div>
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In the interim, my backpack had mysteriously tumbled off the shuttle, unbeknownst to me. I exited the shuttle and stared at the empty cargo area of the shuttle with a look of puzzled bewilderment. The girl from the ticket counter was riding towards the pier on her motorbike, and from afar, I could see my white pack hanging from her left arm. My hero! Again!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sunset in Bailan Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My toenail varnish is brighter than the sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying a Leo</td></tr>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Koh Chang, Thailand12.0479159 102.3234815999999211.799459899999999 102.00075809999993 12.2963719 102.64620509999992tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-71584315377059311842013-07-01T02:33:00.001-07:002015-05-29T14:21:13.584-07:00Friday, June 28, 2013 Part 2 of The Myanmar Blue And White LocalBusChronicles, Pathein via Ngwe Saung<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica;">
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Our guesthouse receptionist flagged down some motorbike taxis for us, one for me, and one for my friend Chris. Zigzagging is an understatement for the amount of rapid movement necessary to maneuver through the town toward Pathein bus station. It had been raining on and off, and the streets were slick and slushy. Each time we splashed through muddy brown puddles, my feet and ankles were christened by a spray of watery muck. The bus station, just like every other bus station we'd been to in Myanmar, was an unmarked, large dirt field, lined on both sides by vendor shacks.</div>
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The shacks always offer the exact same items; snacks that appear to be several months past their expiration date, fat, stumpy bananas, various soft drinks, bottled water, facial tissue, Myanmar smokes, and individually wrapped, heavily scented wet wipes. Today the dirt field had been transformed into a viscous and uneven mire mound, by the ever present rain, and as we gingerly made our way across the mud field, over to the passenger waiting area, I almost lost a flip flop in the sludge. Another day, another blue and white bus.</div>
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This voyage only took about 2 hours, along a narrow, one-laned, snake-like road, up some hills, through the rainforest, and several rice paddies, all the while, Myanmar pop music blasts from a portable speaker in the front of the bus. The 20 something male passenger behind me coughs, and hawks loogies out of the window the entire way. I knew I shouldn't have bothered to wash my hair. From a distance, the rice fields resembled vibrant green patchwork quilts, dotted with light brown embroidery.</div>
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We finally caught a glimpse of the much anticipated coastline, blue-slate coloured water, against a candescent white sky. Knowing full well that it's monsoon season, we were, nevertheless, relentless in our pursuits to find a way to Ngwe Saung Beach, if only to experience a Myanmar beach. We had inquired about a bus from Yangon to the coastline, but were informed by several ticket agents that buses to the beach don't operate in the rainy season. It took us 3 towns, 3 buses, 3 moto-wagons, and 2 motorbikes, to get here. We hopped off the bus at an unmarked bus stop, and were taken to a resort by yet another set of motorbike taxis.</div>
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The sun came out to taunt us for a bit, and drenched the crashing dark blue-gray waves with sparkling silver. The long stretch of beach with powder-fine, light caramel coloured sand, was nothing short of majestic, and virtually empty, save for a handful of local fisherman casting their nets, their wet clothes whipping around them in the gusty wind, water up to their knees.</div>
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Mid afternoon, the white clouds took on a light gray lining, the gray eventually graduating to a deep, dark, charcoal, until the entire sky became the color of soot. And then there was rain. It's easy to appreciate the beach on a sunny day, but the ocean on a rainy day is just as beautiful, in it's own right. Writing on the deck of our beach bungalow, completely sprawled out on a large wooden chair, just a few hundred meters from the pounding, massive waves, to the soundtrack of the deep, throaty, roar of the wind...It doesn't get much better than this.</div>
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Ngwe Saung. Such a welcome sight!</div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Pathein, Republic of the Union of Myanmar16.774167 94.73166700000001616.774167 94.731667000000016 16.774167 94.731667000000016tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-42369305976051394532013-06-27T09:10:00.001-07:002015-05-29T14:19:50.528-07:00Bagan--->Pyay--->Patthein<div style="text-align: center;">
Tuesday, June 25, 2013</div>
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Our bus to Pyay arrived in the alloted time, 8 hours and some change. We were taken to Smile Hotel in a converted moto-wagon, but alas, there were no vacancies. We surveilled Myat Loging Guesthouse next (that's actually how it was spelled.) The owners got out of bed to show us a room, a severely outdated and moldy smelling room, that is. The price was lowered as I was making my exit, and it was getting late, so we decided to suck it up and spend a night there, flaky, moldy wallpaper, astroturf carpet with burn marks, and all.</div>
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It was reminiscent of someone's eccentric auntie's house circa 1970, with a relic of a television set to prove it. The power kept cutting in and out, and we found out later that the entire city of Pyay turns it's electricity off twice a day, and the more affluent businesses have generators as supplements. We had asked the guesthouse owner about bus tickets to Chaung Tha, and he sleepily and vaguely mentioned that the buses from Pyay to Chaung Tha depart several times daily, but when we went to inquire again during regular business hours, he told us 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. were the only time slots available. 6 p.m. was already sold out for that day, which meant spending another night in mildewy room 103. Thankfully the a/c was crisp and cool (when the power was on)...The shared bathroom at the end of the hall creeped me out a bit, especially since there was a hospital neighbouring the guesthouse. As I burrowed myself under the covers, I kept hearing intermittent knocking?!</div>
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Needless to say, I didn't manage to sleep well, and our transfer service to Pyay bus terminal was scheduled for 5:30 a.m. It took us under 20 minutes to get there, in the makeshift moto-wagon that definitely had no shocks, and made my boobs hurt. We waited 40 minutes for no good reason, batting off flies, and locals who spat out squirts of red betel juice however they saw fit.</div>
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When our bus finally pulled up, it was the run down, blue and white, non air-conditioned bus we had jeered at earlier, the aisles lined with sacks, produce, and more than slightly scented with last week's produce. There were 2 rows of narrow seats, and we sat behind 2 young monks. The seat cushions were made of pvc, and I slid around in every direction, trying to get comfortable, but to no avail. There were no floorboards, so my left leg swang, while my right leg was either hunched up, or laid out, depending on whether there was someone sitting in the aisle to my right or not, and there was a very real tetanus threat from all the rusty, protruding metal.</div>
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We had been promised a/c, and 6 hours of travel time; our journey ended up being a little under 13 hours, in a bus that was basically old sheet metal glued together, which just happened to have an engine, that stopped every 5-15 minutes, to pick up locals, drop off locals, pick up packages, drop off motorbikes (oh yes, there were 2 motorbikes in the cargo space), and/or stop in the middle of the road to chat up their colleagues. Not to mention, the driver of the bus would pay attention to everything but the road, with one hand on the massive steering wheel, and the other dangling a cigarette out the window. We only hydroplaned once, so I guess all's well that ends well? P.S. We're not very happy with the owner of Myat Guesthouse. </div>
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We made it to Patthein.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The infamous blue & white bus</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a cozy interior!</td></tr>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Pyay, Republic of the Union of Myanmar18.816667 95.21666700000002918.816667 95.216667000000029 18.816667 95.216667000000029tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-3566931384669637092013-06-20T09:08:00.001-07:002015-05-29T11:59:46.779-07:00Yangon--->Innlay<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
Yangon, Day 2<br />
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We actually made it to breakfast this morn, which was included with our room rate. It was very pleasant, stir fried thin rice noodles with veggies and garlic, a flat banana fritter, and a side of passion fruit, along with "birthday" instant coffee, and tea. With breakfast in our bellies, we set off on an expedition: Kan Daw Gyi Lake, then, Shwe Dagon Pagoda.<br />
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The morning started out cloudy and overcast, but the sun soon poked it's head. Lake entry fee for foreigners: $2 We had already made it about halfway across the wooden bridge over Kan Daw Gyi Lake before the sun's rays started pounding down on us, and had to stop and buy water from the only vendor we saw. Small bottle of water, 600 kyat. I guzzled mine and disposed of the empty plastic bottle in one of the small black trash bins that were located all along the wooden bridge.<br />
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Across the lake was a large, immensely ostentatious palace, that was in the shape of a boat. The lake and surrounding areas were very peaceful, and even though the body of water looked small on out map, it turned out to be a nice long, leisurely walk, with some shade offered from nearby trees. From Kan Daw Gyi Lake, it didn't take us very long to walk to Shwe Dagon Pagoda, across the road, up the slope, up up up the steps, a donation to the shoe check girl, a 5100 kyat pagoda entry fee, a 10,000 kyat deposit to borrow a top that covered my shoulders & a long skirt to cover my legs, and finally, we entered the pagoda.<br />
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All I've got to say is WOW. I've been to countless places of religious worship in my travels, and my lifetime, but Shwe Dagon Pagoda took my breath away. The gold gilded stupa, visible from miles away, was massive, surrounded by a veritable "village" of smaller shrines. The sky was relatively clear and made for a beautiful blue backdrop against the ornate roof tops.<br />
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We hailed a cab in front of the Pagoda back to 32nd Street (2,000 kyat), and walked around for a long while, in search of a decent looking place to have lunch. I saw a red awning from a distance, and it turned out to be a Cafe offering a nice mix of western and asian dishes, as well as a coffee menu, but no wifi. After lunch we asked our server about a bus to Ngapali on the western coast of Myanmar, and she thought we were inquiring where the local bus stop was. After clarifying, she physically walked us a few doors over to a bus ticket kiosk, but the next ride to Ngapali was <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">Friday, 6</a> days from now. Hmm.<br />
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We wandered into an actual travel agency, just as they were closing up, and the man who was walking out of there told us that during rainy season, there isn't much transportstion to the coast, and shook his head at me as i entertained the idea of renting a car. After much aimless wandering, we found a lady at the top 32nd Street who sold bus tickets. She too, told us that no buses run to the coast in the wet season, and helped us in selecting a destination. <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">Tomorrow afternoon</a>, we will be on an overnight bus to Innlay, bus fare: 15,000 kyat (about $15) Alleged travel time: 12 hours<br />
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Being that neither one of us has ever heard of Innlay before, we thought it'd be an interesting stop. </div>
Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Yangon, Republic of the Union of Myanmar16.780833 96.14972216.780833 96.149722 16.780833 96.149722tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-76586384423875566902013-06-20T09:05:00.001-07:002015-05-29T14:23:44.063-07:00First night in Yangon<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
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The shower in our $30 per night guesthouse, dispenses room temperature water, which shocked me even though I was forewarned. It took a nice long shower for me to feel even remotely clean...Yangon is not the tidiest of cities, and that's being pretty generous. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, but so far we've been here for all of 6 hours, and all I've seen is rubbish piled on top of rubbish, and after the rain, especially, it's not such a pretty sight. The pavements are all uneven, with potholes, and could be disastrous if one weren't paying attention. The backs of our legs were splotched with black marks from walking through puddles. The cars and buses drive frantically, and come out of nowhere. Pedestrians definitely don't have the right of way.</div>
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There are all sorts of street vendors: food, produce, dried goods, clothing, etc. On every street corner, there was a stand with green, heart shaped leaves, a white powdery paste, and various herbs in the middle. I do believe they chew the leaves. There was also a fried chicken stand, with various cuts of the bird, and the outsides were cooked, but the middle parts were raw. Men and women alike wear a sarong like bottom, which is the traditional garb, but a lot of people also wear modern clothes. The people dress kind of like their city looks: traditional with bits of modern day influences scattered about. </div>
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Surrounding our guesthouse are a golden pagoda, a catholic cathedral, and a mosque. The majority of older buildings have floor to ceiling wooden paneled doors, which remind me of the older buildings in Luang Prabang. Most of the buildings in Yangon are brightly painted every color of the rainbow. I was told by another traveler, a boisterous Puerto Rican, to walk up to the 19th Street and check out the cafes there, so we had dinner at Kôsan Cafe on 19th Street, in Chinatown, and it wasn't bad, contrary to my prior experiences with Burmese cuisine.</div>
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And I enjoyed Myanmar lager more than any other beer i've tried in southeast asia. Mixed nuts, cauliflower salad, ramen (of the instant variety) noodles with chicken, corn, and egg, sauteed pork, steamed rice, honey toast with sauteed bananas, and icecream, a mojito, and 2 large beers cost 13100 kyat (about $14). I found it odd how strangely the icecream was scooped...After dinner, we tried to find a cool bar to have another drink, but there didn't seem to be much nightlife, so we ended up at Singapore Food Junction, which looked to be a collection of cafes, and where I ended up having to use the restroom.</div>
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The restrooms in Yangon, starting at the airport, have all been squatters. The only western style toilet i've seen is the one at our guesthouse! Wifi seems to be few and far between, and even our guesthouse doesn't offer it. I'm thinking this could be good for me; to just disconnect from the world for the duration of this trip. I regret not having brought a book to read, but i guess this'll be a good time to write. I had a lot of fun reverting back to childhood at Alibaba Arcade in the Singapore Food Junction. I didn't know it walking in, but the Arcade is also a poor man's casino, and we played a bit of Roulette, after a super fun motorbike race!! Wowo.</div>
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Burmese people seem to be very friendly and helpful thus far, and extremely happy to see tourists in their country. Our cab driver from the airport spoke excellent English, and pointed out all the sights we should see along the way, along with giving us pointers on how to efficiently budget our money. Cab ride from Yangon Airport to Downtown Yangon was roughly 20 km, and cost $10. So far, so good.</div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Yangon, Republic of the Union of Myanmar16.780833 96.14972216.780833 96.149722 16.780833 96.149722tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-55185846343428757082013-06-07T11:07:00.001-07:002015-05-29T12:01:15.229-07:00Thursday, June 6, 2013, the journey from Koh Phangan to Koh Tao,Thailand<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="text-align: left;">Transfer service to Thongsala ferry port in Ban Tai, in the southern portion of Koh Phangan arrived promptly at 9:50 a.m. and turned out to be the resort owner's pops. Transportation was a silver pickup truck converted into a สองแถว, or song taew, literally translated to "2 rows". The 2 foreigners were put in the back of the pickup truck along the 2 rows, with only a roof to guard them from the el</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; text-align: left;">ements, while I had the fortune of sitting next to pops, up front, with crisp & cool a/c, and had the great pleasure of chatting him up on the lumpy bumpy ride to the pier. </span></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; text-align: left;">The voyage in a covered vehicle was no less rugged than the motorbike ride in the opposite direction; it was akin to riding a small, three legged pony most of the way, albeit there was now sheet metal surrounding me, and airbags. Pops told me there had been one too many fatal accidents involving foreigners on motorbikes, and pointed out the altars and flowers on the side of the road where the corpses had been found, as evidence. He told me that almost every day, there was a fallen foreigner and motorbike in the gravel, and that the island should open a first aid stand on the treacherous and ever winding mountain pass. Pops and his family have been running their resort in the northeastern part of the island for many generations, and he's clearly seen, first hand, all of the Koh Phangan shenanigans. He mentioned how the local police officers go undercover and lure in unknowing foreigners and sell them drugs, then promptly arrest them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; text-align: left;">Oh silly tourists, don't you know, psychedelics ++ can be found at any bar on Had Rin. I think if you're foolish enough to be duped by a Thai police officer, you actually should spent the night in lala land. I think it's already pretty well known how corrupt the justice system on Koh Phangan is anyhow, so it came as no surprise to me to hear confirmation from a local elder. </span></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; text-align: left;">He also went on to warn me of motorbike rental shops and how they scam customers into thinking damage was done to their rented bikes, and then demanding payment for alleged repairs. Or even worse, parked rented bikes are stolen BY the rental places, and then reported missing, so that the renter has no choice but to pay for the stolen bike! Pops warned me not to get on a motorbike to my hotel on Koh Tao (my next destination) because the roads on that island are even worse than on Koh Phangan, and he couldn't believe I made it on one to his resort in the first place. Duly noted. Thanks pops!</span></span></div>
Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Ko Pha Ngan, Ko Pha-ngan, Ko Pha-ngan District, Surat Thani 84280, Thailand9.7318752999999987 100.013592900000059.7318752999999987 100.01359290000005 9.7318752999999987 100.01359290000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-45344007480287560842013-06-05T06:26:00.001-07:002015-05-30T12:58:54.976-07:00Random rants whilst island hopping in the Gulf of Thailand...<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;"> I had intended to wake up </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">at 5 a.m.</span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;"> and catch the sunrise, but failed miserably! Thongtapan Resort has the most comfy bed I've ever had the pleasure of sleeping in, in Asia. It's almost as comfy as the bed I gave away when I decided to become a nomad last July. Yawn...another leisurely awakening...my cottage is several hundred meters up the mountain, which makes hurrying virtually impossible, for fear of plummeting to my death. Granite does not make for a soft landing, by any standards. And quite frankly, I'm done hurrying, period.</span><br>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;"> I went in search of The Yoga Studio, which is located near the neighbouring beach, Had Thong Nai Pan Yai. Didn't make it very far, as my stomach was yelling angrily at me. It was clearly time for a much awaited lunch. The Star Hut provided stellar service, a delicious meal of flash fried garlic pepper soft shell crab, and stir fried morning glory with tons of fresh garlic, fish sauce, and a healthy dose of red and green chilies. Yum! Revived, I set back on my yoga studio quest. Sigh, didn't make it very far as I spotted a place called "Better Than Sex". I'm not gunnna lie, the name did catch my attention, but it was the coffee drinks that drew me in. It's kind of a mission to find an espresso machine anywhere here. </span><br>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Like a few of the buildings on Koh Phangan, Better Than Sex (which is a pizza joint) is built right into the large granite boulders that surround the island. It's really a majestic sight for sore eyes! After my cappucino break, I set out once more, to find the yoga studio, and lo and behold, a fresh fruit shake stand! Call me perpetually distracted...A mango and pineapple shake please! I watched as the fruit was freshly sliced into the blender, along with some ice, hold the simple syrup! As I sipped on my fruit shake, the girl behind the stand and I chatted. As well as her fruit shake empire, she also holds cooking classes, and asked if i could translate some words from Thai to English for her. Some thai vegetables really don't have an English translation, as far as I know, especially the herbs. And the English call cilantro, coriander, which are 2 different things in America! Basil and Holy Basil? Um...Confusing, much? </span><br>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">By the by, I never made it to the yoga place, which was another 30 minutes walking, past the fork, up the hill, through the forest. Next time! :) For the rest of the afternoon I frolicked up and down the beach, and kept my peanut M&M's away from one of the resort pups. Dogs aren't allowed to have chocolate, silly!</span><br>
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My only standing chore is doing my laundry. Those of you that have been on the road with me have seen me and chuckled: I take a plastic bag, that hopefully doesn't have any holes in it, throw the dirty laundry in, along with some water, and biodegradable surfactant. I prefer the brand "Essence", which leaves my clothes smelling amazing. The laundry gets to soak for at least 10 minutes and then I rub the clothes together as best as I can, wring 'em out, and then it's time for a rinse. Then another wring. With any luck, whichever guesthouse I'm staying at, has provided a clothes line and pins, or a rack of some sort, and the clothes get to hang there until dry.<br>
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If you're wondering why I don't just send my clothes out to be laundered, sometimes there simply isn't laundry service in the sticks, and the few times I have sent my clothes out to be washed, they came back smelling moldy, and/or with detergent stains, or some articles of clothing were missing OR I had gained a few pieces of someone else's laundry! Yikes! Travel tip: The water that comes out of taps on most Southeast Asian islands is reconstituted, and looks like clear water that has had a splash of tea mixed in, in case you were wondering. </div>
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Sometimes I miss having a washer and dryer, a car, and other things that facilitate every day living. But if you asked me to choose between having those luxuries, and parting with the life rejuvenating experiences I've had on my journey thus far, well, I think we all know the answer to that one. Live in love. There is no other way. </div>
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<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kVy0r6RTMtmwL4gurhGSVvHy6guBXEg9vxIcqYG0xP15hpWZhpYQFYZla6XXU85O9D45h9WK55rWotsMFN8TS2TpC8ZW4Jj-gsLAdkBV5On5V248yv4NZHqhUDwW65HOAZK40cVTc_SR/s640/blogger-image-32754804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kVy0r6RTMtmwL4gurhGSVvHy6guBXEg9vxIcqYG0xP15hpWZhpYQFYZla6XXU85O9D45h9WK55rWotsMFN8TS2TpC8ZW4Jj-gsLAdkBV5On5V248yv4NZHqhUDwW65HOAZK40cVTc_SR/s640/blogger-image-32754804.jpg"></a></div>Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Ko Pha Ngan, Ko Pha-ngan, Ko Pha-ngan District, Surat Thani 84280, Thailand9.7318752999999987 100.013592900000059.7318752999999987 100.01359290000005 9.7318752999999987 100.01359290000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-66088098124945840012013-04-05T11:02:00.000-07:002015-05-29T12:09:30.629-07:00Thai Airways versus Air AsiaIt's really all about the details...<br />
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Air Asia is a hot mess, and Thai Airways is definitely not. For example, I had booked a flight at 8:50 p.m. not knowing my minivan from Pai to Chiangmai would only take 3 hours coming down the mountain...i waited in the nice, orderly line at CNX and asked the reservation agent could move me to standy by status for the next available flight. She handed me a slip of paper with a time and place to check back in, booth #23 at 16:45. i headed to burger king on the 2nd floor, then came back down, and sure enough, there was an available seat on the next flight.Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-41454798233845931732013-03-30T06:56:00.002-07:002015-05-29T18:55:21.404-07:00The balance between good and evil.<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Masjid Raya in Medan</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">An intersection near my hotel in Medan<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Fresh out of Polonia airport, and my first time setting foot on Indonesian soil...It was a little past 7pm and I had just finished checking into Garuda Citra Hotel on Sisingamangaraja in Medan. Had intended to grab a bite from one of the food stalls, and was walking towards Masjid Raya, when I felt my purse being yanked off of my shoulder. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">There were 2 derelicts on a motorbike, and the scum</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">bag passenger was trying to make off with my bag! I was relentless, and would not let go. No one is taking my passport and wallet without a fight, said I. As a result, my belongings still remain in my possession, but I was thrown onto the ground when the thief finally let go; I must've rolled around several times given the number of bruises and scrapes on my shoulders, arms, back, hip, and ankles, and my head took a severe pounding on the concrete.</span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> My glasses had been knocked clear off my face, and someone found them and put them back on for me. Everything went fuzzy for a few minutes, and my right ear was ringing. Now that I can see straight, there are scrapes on my knuckles, and toes, as added bonuses. If I had been a cartoon, I'd have had stars and birds all around my head. Several people ran over to help me up and handed me water. One man, a cab driver, asked if i wanted to go to a hospital. I said, yes, and he helped me stay upright, as I kept staggering. 5 minutes later, we had arrived at a clinic, and a huge welt had already formed on the right side of my head, just above my ear, close to my temple. </span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I felt like throwing up, and almost did in the back of the cab; the impact had knocked the wind right out of me, and I was completely disoriented. The wait to see the doctor was luckily,very brief, and I was seen in virtually no time. The doctor examined me, and cleaned my wounds with betadine, then prescribed some medicine, assuring me that my head would be fine, and I should just rest. I would have been happy sleeping on the clinic bed for the night, I was so so sad. He initially wanted to give me an injection but I requested pills. At that point, any additional pain would have been too much. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the bruises on my hip from the incident<br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bruised left foot from the incident<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Afterward, the cab driver took me to the pharmacy, went in and filled my prescription for me, brought it back out, bought me water, fed me the pills, and drove me back to my hotel. He helped me to my room, and told the hotel staff what had happened, and left. A short while later I heard knocking on my door. It was the cab driver and 3 of the hotel staff. The cab driver had brought me some sweet pandan breads! I cannot begin to express how grateful I am, for the kindness of complete strangers. The world would be a much better place if everyone was molded after my cab driver. And from now on, I will carry only a small satchel. Lesson learned.</span><span class="UIActionLinks UIActionLinks_bottom" data-ft="{"tn":"=","type":20}" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The cab driver who scraped me off the pavement. My hero! I took him out to dinner and got lots of takeout for his family.<br /></span></td></tr>
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<span class="UIActionLinks UIActionLinks_bottom" data-ft="{"tn":"=","type":20}" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At the summit of Gunung Sibayak in Berastagi</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some lovely local girls in Berastagi who asked me to teach them English</span></td></tr>
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<br />Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Medan, Medan City, North Sumatra, Republic of Indonesia3.5951956 98.672222700000023.5951956 98.67222270000002 3.5951956 98.67222270000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-84999446378826659932013-03-30T06:53:00.001-07:002015-05-29T12:04:10.099-07:00In this day and age...<br />
Half past 7 and i left my hotel, unchaperoned as always, in search of satay. i didn't have to look very far; Rex, which is a food court that is open only in the evenings, is right across from Hotel Medan where i'm staying...i just picked a random satay cart, and ordered 4 sate sapi skewers (beef satay) nasi, and te manis (sweet tea) and found a table right in the middle of the curb. there was a couple to my left, and 4 local men at the table to my right. i haven't seen any women out at night without a male chaperone. apparently the curfew for women in these parts is 10 p.m. <br />
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The whole time i've been seated, i hear laughing and catcalling from the table to my right. my te manis arrives, and i stir every single granule of sugar until each and every granule has dissolved into the black tea. more laughing and catcalling continues in the background... when i finally turn and glare at the obnoxious men, they point at the food which has arrived at their table and beckon me over. i shake my head and tell them i have not a clue what they're saying. laughing continues then dies down; being that there is food on their table now, they're not as boisterous. my 4 skewers arrive, and i basically snort them, and order 4 more. they were definitely asian sized skewers! a yummy coconut fish head-seafood stew accompanies my meal. i snort the next 4 skewers, then polish of my te manis. the table on my right has finished eating as well, and more catcalling commences.<br />
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i look over, and one of the men has his cell phone out and points to it then points at me. i ask for the check. and leave. this is definitely not a city that is accustomed to single female travelers. I was told on the way here by a group of Aceh women in the same bus, that even i, a foreigner, must not wear shorts or tank tops in Aceh, or my clothes would get snipped right off of me, or worse. The women spoke as much English as I speak Indonesian, so we used the universal language of sign.<br />
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i think it's peculiar, in a place where the women are so reserved, that the men are the polar opposite. Woman have a curfew of 10 pm. All females must wear traditional headdresses, and cover all flesh from the head down (leaving only the face exposed) but the men are allowed to dress as modern as they'd like. I understand that this is part of their religion, and tradition, but i can't imagine it's fun for these women to don so many layers of clothing in this preposterous heat and humidity, day in and day out, and somehow look as pristine and beautiful as they always seem to. Much respect.Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Banda Aceh, Banda Aceh City, Aceh, Republic of Indonesia5.55 95.3166670000000525.55 95.316667000000052 5.55 95.316667000000052tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-33595688102200765712013-02-21T07:13:00.001-08:002015-05-29T12:04:30.106-07:00The Heart Of My TravelsJanuary 15, 2013<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Traveling means different things to different people. To me, traveling means exploring, having new experiences, breaking free from what I know; breaking free from my comfort zone and doing things I normally would never do. Having been born and raised in a big city, I'd grown accustomed to the "finer" things in life, the luxurious and the expensive were the norm to me. When I was young and stupid, </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I went so far as to purchase a brand new car because the leather seats matched my handbag. If I added up how much I've spent on handbags over the years, I could probably put a down payment on a home. None of these material things ever made me truly happy. They filled a void; for over a decade, material objects and mind altering substances only served to fill a void.<br /><br />I left Los Angeles in July of 2012, selling whatever I could and hugged my dear friends and wonderful dad goodbye, not knowing when I would see them again. I bid farewell to 2 perfectly decent jobs, and set out on a journey into the unknown.<br /><br />It's been nearly 7 months since I left home, and I have gotten to know myself more than I ever have in all of my 35 years of life on this earth. The best thing I've ever bought myself was a plane ticket. It took me a long time to realize this, and now it has become a way of life: The best things in life are free.<br /><br />I was never a nature-loving girl. I was afraid of dirt and didn't like getting grimy. Puddles scared the shit out of me. I thought for sure I'd contract a communicable disease from filthy water. And forget public transportation. There was no way you'd catch me on the bus or subway back home.<br />Oh how the tables have turned...I've been climbing caves, waterfalls, and various other rocky and scary things, barefoot, at that (with a little help from the kind souls i meet)</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />My car didn't fit in my 40 liter backpack, so trains and buses became my allies. I was scared to death of motorbikes, but sometimes that's the only way to get around in South East Asia. Flag down a motorbike for hire, hop on, and pray to arrive at your destination safely. I even attempted to ride a scooter on Koh Lanta, and careened into metal railing, but hey, I tried something I was scared to death of. Next time I will practice in an empty parking lot with no inclines.<br /><br />I played with 20 Cambodian orphans in Siem Reap, whose parents had abandoned them, and the orphanage was funded solely by a Western woman, God bless her heart. The children slept outside under a rattan awning, and were in awe at everything I said and did. They all remembered my name, and ran after me blowing kisses as I left. I gave one little girl a coin, a euro. In my mind, I wished that she would one day get to use that coin. The red dirt road to the orphanage had more potholes than I'd ever seen before in my life and I don't know how motorbikes managed to navigate the treacherous path.<br /><br />I drank tequila and beer with Thai prostitutes at a bar on <a class="blogLocLink" href="http://www.travbuddy.com/Koh-Samui-travel-guide-1313257" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(17, 34, 102); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #112266; text-decoration: initial;" title="Koh Samui travel guide">Koh Samui</a> and listened to their stories. Most of these women have children to feed; their children live elsewhere in Thailand; and selling their most valuable asset is how these women and their children survive (if they're lucky, men will pay them up to 5000 baht. I heard of a girl who only got paid 200 baht which is about $6. When I was 13, and we had moved to <a class="blogLocLink" href="http://www.travbuddy.com/Bangkok-travel-guide-632148" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(17, 34, 102); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #112266; text-decoration: initial;" title="Bangkok travel guide">Bangkok</a>, I had a live-in babysitter/housekeeper. She lived with us in Bangkok, but had a sister who lived in Chiang Khong. Her sister sold her body and bought a house for their mother and herself, and then discovered she was dying of AIDS. The sad fact is, this is not uncommon in South East Asia.<br /><br />After getting off the ferry and partying all night on New Year's Eve,I found out how corrupt Koh Phangan is from a local woman the following day. It was January 1st, 2013, and my friends and I were having breakfast and chatting. Seated at a table to my far left, a European guy with shaggy dark hair wearing only a speedo, started convulsing and fell off his chair. 2 guys from another table went to help him up and he threw punches at them, and then swung at the girls in the kitchen. They dragged his ass to the clinic nearby, and after we finished eating, we saw that he had calmed down and was sitting at a table outside the clinic with a black and white puppy. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">The woman who was waiting on us told me some heart wrenching tales. Drugs are easily accessed on Koh Phangan, if you didn't already know, and the cops do absolutely nothing to prevent any of it. Pharmacists on Koh Phangan encourage Ritalin sales so party people can stay up all night. Ritalin is 200 baht a pop, definitely not cheap , and hmm, I wonder who's making a profit. Someone had jumped from the second story of a building the previous night and gotten impaled by a metal rod. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">The local woman told me these are everyday occurrences, and that saddens me to my very core. How does one draw the line between partying and having a grand ol' time, and going overboard? How do the local cops turn their head? there are medical clinics on every corner, and hmmm, i wonder why... And how do foreigners not know or choose to ignore their own limits? There is much more to life than being stuck in a drug and alcohol hole and being half dead to the world. There were signs for parties as far as the eye could see. Half Moon Party, Full Moon Party, Waterfall Party, Jungle Party. How about a Clean The Beach Party so that people aren't wading in their own waste, plastic bottles, cans, and plastic bags? Every time I turned around, there was some numbnut pissing in the ocean.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />Don't get me wrong...dancing all night as the ocean wind whips through your hair, as the tide caresses your ankles (mostly pee pee tide) and the sheer energy of all the partygoers is a revelation in itself. the music doesn't stop 'til about 9 or 10 a.m. but do yourself a favor and quit while you're ahead; take care of yourself and others. There's more to life than fist pumping, snorting your brains out, and being an empty carcass the next day or couple of days. There's more to your vacation than staying at a posh 5 star resort, that's probably just a place to stash your bags anyway (hopefully). </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I met some masseuses by my bungalow in Lamai Beach, which is the quieter side of Koh Samui, and they give massages on the beach. Their workdays are 10 hours long, with no breaks, and massages start at 250 baht (about $8) a pop. Can you imagine how tired your hands would be after rubbing down a big fat german guy for an hour, let alone 10 hours? my bungalow cost 600 baht a night, which is about<br />$20. some Thais don't even make that in a week's worth of work. Sad but true fact. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I realize that tourism brings income to impoverished countries, but at what expense? Thailand's crystal clear blue waters are now littered with trash.Endangered dead pink dolphins are washing up to shore from the Gulf of Thailand. Monkeys on Monkey Island in <a class="blogLocLink" href="http://www.travbuddy.com/Krabi-travel-guide-631687" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(17, 34, 102); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #112266; text-decoration: initial;" title="Krabi travel guide">Krabi</a> are eating the trash that tourists are leaving behind.<br /><br />I could sit here and write about Barcelona, Ibiza, London, Paris, Milano, Venezia, Bologna, Rimini, Lazio, Agrigento, Castelmola, Cefalù, Palermo, Taormina, San Gimignano, Verona, Antwerp, Brussels, Langkawi, Georgetown, Kuala Lumpur, Luang Prabang, Vientiane, Vang Vieng, Amsterdam, Cadaques, Figueres, etc. but we'll save those for another day. those countries don't need to be saved. my motherland and surrounding countries do.<br /><br />Loved ones, here's a Lightning in a Bottle slogan for you: Leave it better. Leave it beautiful</span>Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Bangkok, Thailand13.7563309 100.5017651000000613.7563309 100.50176510000006 13.7563309 100.50176510000006tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-38358289636060951992013-02-21T07:03:00.000-08:002015-05-30T19:34:17.673-07:00Phnom Penh--->SihanouvilleJanuary 18, 2013<br />
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I was supposed to be downstairs waiting for the bus at 8:15 a.m. It was 8:07 a.m. when i jolted out of bed to the knocking on my door. The big red bus was honking loudly and no one on board looked too pleased. Oops. I had spent the night in Koh Kong at Raksmey Rathanak Guesthouse to break up the trip from Bangkok to Phnom Penh, in an attempt to get some zzzzzs...<br />
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11:30 a.m. We're at a reststop with strange lookin food, but yummy looking desserts. Cigs are ony 5,000 riel a pack?! The bathrooms are, of course, a hole in the ground. I think we're almost in Sihanoukville. I saw some cattle whose horns were tied together in the back of a truck. Sad face.<br />
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11:39 a.m. Toll road. I had to show my passport to the police yesterday and pay a toll of 1400 riel as passenger on a motorbike taxi. I haven't showered yet today, and I need to go to the Vietnamese Consulate. I haven't seen any 7-11s, just heaps and heaps of sim card shops: Smart Mobile, Honey, and various others, but not a soul can instruct me on how to activate internet on my phone. I must have tried 5 different shops yesterday. Oh, and there's tons of Angkor and Anchor beer. Beer galore!<br />
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12:02 p.m. We're in Sihanoukville!!!<br />
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I had to hire a motorbike taxi to get to the Vietnamese Consulate to apply for my visa. I think it cost me under $4 roundtrip. My single entry Vietnamese Visa was granted to me in under 10 minutes for $60...<br />
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January 19, 2013<br />
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6:34 a.m.<br />
I hear knocking on my door again at Sokhom guesthouse this time. It was the hotel clerk. My pick up service had arrived and I was late yet again! We circled around Sihanoukville for a bit until the minivan was full of Khmer, and we then ended up at the bus station. I was very impressed that we all had pre-assigned seats. I tried to plunk down in the first row, but the driver informed me that I had been assigned to seat #14.<br />
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I inflated my neck pillow and got 22 pages into my new book, then dozed off. The bus stopped at 9 a.m. in the middle of nowhere, and everyone got off to buy random snacks and fruit from the shacks. There were about 5 shacks all selling the same things. I got out and smoked a cig, and asked if anyone sold cigs, but they were all weird brands, so I got back on the bus. 9:14 a.m. and we depart via Phnom Penh. I'm tired of stupid snacks. I want real food!!! I had bought some sugar crackers and a Diet Coke earlier, and that's all I've been nibbling on. There's only 2 Caucasians on this bus, one of which is with a homely little Asian woman, from which part of Asia, I'm not sure, but they were conversing in English. She was feeding him milk from a carton, and I noticed him brandishing a flacon of whisky which had a scorpion in it. He offered me some scorpion whisky, and I muttered, "Thank you, but it's too early." To which he slurred, "Ha ha, it's a little too late!"<br />
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Thank God for earphones that block out whiny Khmer music pumping fromt the bus speakers. The a/c is freakishly cold, just like it was on the bus from Koh Kong. I nearly froze to death in my shorts and tank top. Aside from the stellar air con, G.S.T. Express bus isn't so bad! There's ample leg room, and fully reclining seats. They don't pack passengers in like sardines, nor do they stop for locals like buses in Thailand do so often. All the buses also display signs in Khmer and English with questions such as: "Do our company ensure safety?" "Whatever our insufficient services?" and "Please criticize through the Phone Number." Amazing!<br />
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I found there to be a lack of Diet Coke and Coke Zero in Koh Kong, but there was an ample supply in Sihanoukville. It's weird that there are so many mini marts that all sell the same thing. The pharmacies dispense whatever you request, by the way.<br />
<br />Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Krong Preah Sihanouk, Cambodia10.6253016 103.5233963000000610.6253016 103.52339630000006 10.6253016 103.52339630000006tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-17027585325377604272013-01-17T19:25:00.000-08:002015-05-30T19:31:00.843-07:00Phnom Penh<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
It took about 6 hours to get from Sihanoukville to Phnom Penh via air conditioned bus and cost me 600 baht ($20) but had I driven myself, it would've taken just under 3 hours (I drive fast). As soon as we set foot off the bus in the city center, there were tuktuks and motorbikes for hire hovering around like vultures going in for the kill.<br />
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I found a polite tuktuk driver who said he'd take me to a safe and cheap guesthouse for $3</div>
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and, after that, to and from Choeung Ek (The Killing Fields) which is about 17 kilometres (10 miles) away from Phnom Penh, for $15. I tried to barter a bit, but his prices seemed fair enough so I didn't make a big fuss over it. We arrived at Golden Home Guesthouse in no time. He told me to go inside and look at a room and see if I liked it, and he waited outside while I did surveillance.<br />
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The only room available was on the fourth floor, and I had had an accident before I'd left Bangkok, re-injuring my gimpy left knee. Hobble hobble hobble. A room with a fan cost $15. It was clean, and had running water. It appeared that there used to be a water heater, but it's now just a useless piece of plastic with one wire jutting out at the top. Super safe! I haven't seen any Cambodian guesthouses with toilet paper yet, and this is my second time in Cambodia, and fourth city visited in the Kingdom. While the bathroom appeared to be very clean, the sink leaks onto the tile floor, and when you flush the toilet, the sink doesn't work at all. If you've been to Southeast Asia before, you're probably used to the shower, sink, and toilet, all in the same area, and the spray nozzle for your butt, that's attached to the toilet tank. There wasn't even a bar of soap in the bathroom?!?! It's become a habit now; I carry tissues, toilet paper, liquid soap, and antibacterial wipes with me everywhere I go.<br />
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Fast Forward, I chucked my backpack in my room, and ran downstairs to check in, then hopped in my awaiting tuktuk to The Killing Fields. my driver stopped and bought 2 surgical masks. I thanked him but said I'd be fine, I smoke so much that a little dust wouldn't bother me. (Later on I blew my nose and my boogers were black.) The road to Choeung Ek was one of the most heinous roads I've ever been on. Someone could lose an eye or a limb, or both, easily. There were cranes, tractors, open trenches, motorbikes going in every which way, variations of paved, unpaved, cobbled, and red dirt roads, and all part of the same street. Nothing startles me anymore. And near-collisions don't count. We were literally an inch away from a mack truck that decided to do a u-turn mid traffic. Pebbles flew everywhere and there was so much dust that it was hard to see in front of us.<br />
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Luckily, even in gridlock, it didn't take terribly long to get to the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center. My tuktuk driver said he'd be waiting under the trees for me and showed me the way to the entrance. The admission fee was $5, and I was given headphones and an electronic device with a number pad on it that served as my virtual tour guide. I won't go into too much detail, because I don't want to ruin the experience for those that have not yet been to Choeung Ek; i personally had been moved to tears, and left the museum with a new awareness.</div>
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Around <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://5" x-apple-data-detectors-result="5" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1:10 a.m.</a> after dicking around online, I felt a bit peckish, so I climbed down the 4 flights of stairs and asked a hotel worker if there were any restaurants open. He gestured towards the dark street and told me I could take a look but he was pretty sure everything was closed. I asked if the guesthouse's kitchen was open, and he said it was. Well why the heck didn't you tell me sooner, numbnut?!<br />
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I sat down and saw a table tent: Restaurant hours <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://6" x-apple-data-detectors-result="6" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">6 a.m. to 2 a.m.</a> Geez Louise, those are long hours for the kitchen staff. I sat down and ordered a salami, cheese, and tomato toastie, which was basically a panini, and a diet coke. A short while later a Cambodian girl and an obviously intoxicated Caucasian male walked in and sat at the table next to mine. I played on my phone the whole time until my food arrived, oblivious to the world. After inhaling my sandwich, I craved something sweet, and ordered a Malteser Crunchie, which was 3 scoops of french vanilla icecream, crushed Maltesers, and hot fudge.<br />
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After that, it was cigarette time, and I had to pack my brand new smokes. I'm guessing my loud cigarette packing made the Caucasian guy turn around and ask me if I was on vacation. I told him it was more of a stay-cation, and I'd been traveling since July. Turns out he's from Canada, and the girl he was with was a local Khmer girl who bartends on Street <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://8" x-apple-data-detectors-result="8" x-apple-data-detectors-type="address" x-apple-data-detectors="true">104, the riverfront pub street</a>, which is notorious for sex tourism. We chatted for a long bit, and Canada told me he used to be in the military. This was after I mentioned how much trash and filth I had seen in Phnom Penh. He retorted by saying Afghanistan was worse, and thought Thailand was pretty filthy too, and smells bad. I got the feeling he doesn't care much for Thailand. Told me he had somehow broken his jaw and was laying on the ground bleeding as 15 Thai people just glanced at him and kept walking. Sad.<br />
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An older German man asked if he could sit down and join us, and i gestured yes. Mid conversation, a beautiful Khmer girl, with long blonde hair, tons of makeup, porcelain skin, and a petite perfect body walked out from one of the rooms, accompanied by an older, dark haired, European-looking guy. Apparently it costs anywhere from $8 to $50 to have a prostitute over. I can never get over the fact that it's normal for a girl to sell her vagina for money. I talked to Canada about it and he said it was perfectly normal in Southeast Asia and I should get used to it. I made a comment about how guys who have to pay for sex should go home and shoot themselves in the face, and he said he had paid for sex before. Sigh.<br />
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He said selling your body is a job. You work, you make money, it's your job. He said he feels like the king of the world in Pattaya and Phnom Penh, but admitted it gets annoying to be haggled by prostitutes when you're just trying to have a beer and watch football. My opinion: Caucasian men who frequent Southeast Asia and pay for sex are usually the dorks in the Western world, that can't get laid no matter how hard they try, and their sex life consists of porn sites, magazines, and their left and/or right hand.</div>
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After Canada and his girl left, Germany asked what I was doing <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://11" x-apple-data-detectors-result="11" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">tonight</a>. I said, "Sleeping." He offered me a beer and I lied and told him I was on antibiotics. He told me a tale of how he took a girl home and thought she just liked him and wanted to hang out, but asked for $25 at the end of the night. He then asked if I was sleeping alone and I said, "Of course!" He went to the restroom, and I hobbled as fast as I could up to my room and locked the door. Not open for business. Ever.</div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Phnom Penh, Cambodia11.5448729 104.8921668000000411.0471024 104.24671980000004 12.0426434 105.53761380000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-88267922571642005412012-12-22T09:04:00.001-08:002015-05-29T12:05:53.372-07:00Bits and pieces of Malaysia in 4 days Took the ferry from Ko Lanta to Ao Nang and met up with Holly at McDonald's, where she was finishing up her cheeseburger. We had planned on meeting at 3ish p.m. but my ferry kept stopping to transfer passengers to other vessels. I got to McDonald's a few minutes before 4 p.m. We were trying to figure out where to go, and walked towards the beach, and found a ticket agent after a few minutes. I asked him about ticket prices, to Kuala Lumpur, Langkawi, and Penang.<br />
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We couldn't decide on where to go first, so Holly tossed a coin. Heads, Kuala Lumpur. Tails, Langkawi. Tails won, so off to Langkawi we were the next morning. Our tickets cost 850 baht, and included pick-up at our guesthouse. It was late afternoon, and there was no available transport for the same day so we chose to be picked up at 6:00 a.m. Bad news bears. We ended up going out later in the evening, after we'd cleaned up and stashed our stuff at our guesthouse, J Mansion in Ao Nang. I've stayed at other guesthouses in the area, and J Mansion is, by far, one of the cleanest, and most affordable places I've encountered. Highly recommend it!<br />
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Where was I? Oh, yeah, we had dinner overlooking the beach at Aning Restaurant, then to Full Moon Bar for a beer, and then yet another bar (don't remember the name), then finally, back to the guesthouse to sleep for a few hours.<br />
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Our pickup service was a bit tardy, not so surprising in Thailand. We drove around for a good 2 hours, retrieving all the passengers on the roster. Between ferries and motorbikes, and tuktuks and songtaews, my hair had formed one giant dreadlock underneath, and I spent most of the minivan ride trying to undo the knot! When we arrived at Bara Port, several hours later, I was still trying to undo my hair...the British girl seated next to me on the minivan took pity on me, and lent me her lint brush. It helped...a little...must. use. conditioner.<br />
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We had about 30 minutes to spare at Bara Port, and I changed from gypsy pants into shorts in the smelly bathroom, and Holly went and did the same. We were to line up at 1 p.m. to have our passports stamped by the port officials before boarding the ferry. I'd never been on such a grimy ferry, with so much passenger space. There was a fruit vendor who tried to sell me grapefruit and mango. I told her fruit upsets my stomach, and she backed off. We chose a backrow, and every so often I'd get a whiff of the bathroom in the back of the ferry.<br />
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We set sail around 1:30 p.m. and exhaust fumes hit me in the face. I told Holly I was going upstairs to check out the view. We ended up at Pemerikaan Port at around 3:00 p.m. and had to be stamped into Malaysia. All the foreign passport holders seemed to get stamped in promptly, while Asian passport holders got detained and searched for no apparent reason. Holly waited for me for a good 20 minutes while the immigration officer in my line detained the 2 Asian girls in front of me. Finally, it was my turn, and the officer looked at my U.S. passport, stamped it, and handed it back to me. Finally, we were in Malaysia!<br />
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Pemerikaan Port is no joke. Langkawi is a duty free island, and there were so many shops, and so many people running rampant. It was sensory overload. We walked around for a bit trying to take it all in, and were propositioned by taxi drivers. 30 ringgit seemed to be rather pricey for a cab ride. We kept walking, towards the KFC and 7-11, and found a cabbie who would take us to Cenang Beach for 25 ringgit. I was smoking a cig, and he told me not to rush. He pulled out some cigarettes as well, and lit one up. They looked like they were wrapped in bamboo, but it was a pale colored leaf, and he said it contained fresh tobacco...<br />
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It took about 30-40 minutes from Pemerikaan Port to Cenang Beach, and our driver dropped us off near a bunch of guesthouses. It was really hot that day, and we went from guesthouse to guesthouse, trying to find the best deal. None of the guesthouses were under 50 ringgit. We had just about given up, when I spotted Amani Guesthouse. 45 ringgit per night. There was a huge dead beetle and various other insects on the stairwell on the way up to our room. This was the least of our worries.<br />
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The room was threadbare, with patches of paint missing from the walls, stains on the sheets, and burn marks on the furniture. The bathroom was your typical South East Asian bathroom, with no separate shower, and this one didn't even have a sink! The hotel worker was very kind, however, and we were sweaty, and tired, and agreed to stay there for a night, even though I grimaced at the thought of sleeping in that room.<br />
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We tried our best to avoid staying in our room, and stayed out for as long as was humanly possible. We found a Thai restaurant called Rose Tea 2, and had some chicken pad thai for dinner, and coffee at Starbucks. Do not order the red velvet cake in Malaysia! I don't know what their idea of cream cheese is, but whatever they're putting in their velvet cake is ruining it. We found a mini mart nearby, and stocked up on cartons of cigarettes. I hadn't seen Pall Malls since Europe, so I got a carton of 'em for 45 ringgit!<br />
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The next morning we left our bags at the guesthouse and found a ticket agent straight ahead. Langkawi was beautiful, but very expensive in comparison to the rest of SEA. Our ticket agent was a portly, butch, Malysian woman, who told us it was our fault that everything was getting more and more expensive in Malaysia. She was riot, and made us laugh the whole time we were booking our ferry to Georgetown. 77 ringgit, and we were to be picked up at 4 p.m. We spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, catching some rays, and just chill-axing.<br />
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We arrived at the jetty port in Georgetown at around 9 p.m. and shared a cab to Chinatown with a guy we met, who said he lived in French Guyana. I had pre-booked a guesthouse on agoda.com, and our cab driver took us there, but it was so far away from everything, and looked to be in a dodgy neighbourhood. I ended up running upstairs and trying to cancel my reservation, but the lady at the front desk told me I had to contact agoda.com directly, that she couldn't do anything at this point. Ok. I later emailec agoda.com, but haven't heard back from them.<br />
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We got dropped off in Chinatown and must've checked out rooms at about 10 different guesthouses. Our friend from French Guyana was carrying a 34 kg backpack, containing all of his dive equipment. I don't know how he managed. Holly and I grew weary and settled on 75 Traveller's Lodge, 40 ringgit per night. Georgetown seemed to be a bit cheaper than Langkawi, with a massive array of street food...from chow fun to dimsum to sushi, and all for about 2 ringgit per order. HALLELUJAH!<br />
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In the morning, we walked over to Banana Travel and booked our bus from Georgetown to Kuala Lumpur, 35 ringgit. We explored Georgetown, as we had half the day free to sight see, and decided that China and India had thrown up there, and Georgetown was the byproduct. We came across a beautiful Hindu temple, but alas, it was locked up. We then stumbled upon a Chinese temple, one of the only examples of Teo Chew architecture in the city. Wandered through Little India, and wafts of incense slapped us in the face. Every couple of blocks, we'd find a wrought iron cartoon, some with a story, some freestanding. They were the highlight of Georgetown, to me, as well as the old old old old old examples of architecture, influenced by so many different cultures. It was scorchingly hot and we sat down for iced white coffee at Kaffa Kafa. I'd never seen, or heard of white coffee until I got to Malaysia, but apparently, it's very popular with the locals.<br />
Our pickup service was very very late and I had to call to remind the tour agency. I had bought a Malaysian sim card and it proved to be very useful. We got to our bus, just in the knick of time, and were told to hurry and get on the bus. If our driver hadn't been so very late, then we wouldn't have had to hurry now, would we? We got on the bus, and it was MASSIVE, with more leg room than I've ever had in any bus I've ever been on. The seats had plenty of reclining room and even had an adjustable leg rest?!?! No cupholders though...not that I needed one...I slept the whole way to Kuala Lumpur.<br />
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I think our journey took 6-7 hours, and the bus dropped us off in Puduraya. I had contacted a Couchsurfing host and texted him to let him know we were waiting in front of the 7-11 on Jalan Pudu Lama. he showed up in a cab and told us to get in. He lived about 20 minutes outside of KL, JLN Cahaya to be exact, and the total cab fare was 30 ringgit. he was telling us that his landlady was a nice Chinese woman, and he rented a room in their house. on his Couchsurfing profile, he never mentioned that we'd all be sleeping in the same room, but he was nice enough to give up his bed, so that was ok. As an added bonus, we could smoke inside.<br />
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We must've been exhausted because Holly and I woke up a little before 1 p.m. the next day. We quickly showered and headed to the train station, and went sightseeing. "Sightseeing" ended up being shown around malls. Times Square and Pavilion. Riveting. (Not really.) We had lunch at Nando's, which I fell in love with in London, and was really excited to see the chain in Kuala Lumpur. After lunch we went over to Trader's Hotel and took the elevator up to the 33rd floor, to Sky Bar. The view from up top was spectacular, and I got up on the cushions to take pictures of the Twin Towers. not so spectacular was the price tag for my iced green tea, 15 ringgit?!?!<br />
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It was sprinkling, and then full on raining, as we headed back over to Times Square for Starbuck's coffee, and then over to Pavilion, again, to have dinner at the food court. The food court was massive, and I had a hard time deciding what to eat...I spotted a sign for 'Penang Street Food' in the back, and made a beeline for it. The kiosk was called "Mee Jawa', and their spicy noodles were YUM!!! We ended up at Mac Residence, which was a huge highrise condominium, where one of our friend's friend of a friend of a friend lived.<br />
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Apparently it was a Coucsurfing potluck gathering, and the dining room table was covered with food from every nation. We met a Dutch girl, a French girl, some Algerians, and Nigerians, 2 Malaysians, and of course, there was our Couchsurfing host who is Saudi Arabian. A bottle of wine, a bottle of whisky, and off we went to the pubs. lot of beer, lots of dancing, and i got quite friendly with one of the couchsurfer boys?! at some point we left in a taxi and somehow got rerouted from our couchsurfing host's house to a house in Cyberjaya, a good 40 minutes south of Kuala Lumpur. I'm guessing the boy i got friendly with at the bar wanted to see me again. We got there and finished all the booze in the house, and the sun had been up for quite some time. I think it was 8:30 a.m. by the time boy and i made it to his bed. And no, I did not put out for a warm bed to sleep in...<br />
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<br />Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Malaysia4.210484 101.975766000000024.210484 101.97576600000002 4.210484 101.97576600000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-84409857678719084892012-10-26T12:34:00.001-07:002015-05-29T16:29:27.392-07:00eating & drinking my way through southeast asia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Spicy pork hock salad</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Chinese bunny treats</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pad Thai</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Winged bean salad</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cream of corn soup (so not Thai) but I had it in Thailand hey</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Boat noodles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cheese (again, not Thai)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Old fashioned Thai iced tea</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Chrysanthemum iced tea</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Grilled pork skewers, spicy grilled pork salad, sticky rice</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Red velvet cake</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHALCygrVt8odaLGhXViaftDiy-SuGiur53lXAv8BBIi7RfjU9N_tDlac5MIzZkYztgSZsUzLbuyxvcxo0CQgx5dIR6QN28D1_fBd47Nqb5JYZicxo3YOkfRd7zhaRBynW0qnTBkxvjzx5/s640/blogger-image-711128836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHALCygrVt8odaLGhXViaftDiy-SuGiur53lXAv8BBIi7RfjU9N_tDlac5MIzZkYztgSZsUzLbuyxvcxo0CQgx5dIR6QN28D1_fBd47Nqb5JYZicxo3YOkfRd7zhaRBynW0qnTBkxvjzx5/s640/blogger-image-711128836.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fresh coconut ice cream with corn, peanuts, and condensed milk</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Roti with condensed milk and sugar</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Chinese style crispy pork over rice</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3v37tNZSNFc-QJDk4O2WwBt8IoMfabqGvMZAe9uzWmgJwp6Bx83WdiNvuwKrfnmFMkGpKo9iO_RA1HAr4GoDMuhQ44iG77Ea3YjhSt-qjw9uHnyJEaSXS7EReHNBCgs-rj-T-H1oW-P-j/s640/blogger-image--625140099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3v37tNZSNFc-QJDk4O2WwBt8IoMfabqGvMZAe9uzWmgJwp6Bx83WdiNvuwKrfnmFMkGpKo9iO_RA1HAr4GoDMuhQ44iG77Ea3YjhSt-qjw9uHnyJEaSXS7EReHNBCgs-rj-T-H1oW-P-j/s640/blogger-image--625140099.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fried catfish salad</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaoi53rvRTAwfh9ine2pU1HHfLb23T483e0x9DxqECuset1BU1ilGhiNbrsMPhOhhzXvYJDmYSjZctRtd4fhJ6ylnZrhCKXdAefCwd9Q5Tgqx1DJFh1bIh75lvZ8iCeYE3gG4_tN53ju0/s640/blogger-image-1015429720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaoi53rvRTAwfh9ine2pU1HHfLb23T483e0x9DxqECuset1BU1ilGhiNbrsMPhOhhzXvYJDmYSjZctRtd4fhJ6ylnZrhCKXdAefCwd9Q5Tgqx1DJFh1bIh75lvZ8iCeYE3gG4_tN53ju0/s640/blogger-image-1015429720.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honey toast</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYIVdRWx4RcYAWxcKbcHJIZsU7aqdBODnE18BryK-o4E17IC23oZwWQ1dqjS_xIxB26WPfPMXmOVKGPBdmoTAX2VQdOx01Q1fb29RDR_OOqDL0dno0tJ9uIWEU0vg6chvPQ3-O-3ZoKB1/s640/blogger-image-1586483108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYIVdRWx4RcYAWxcKbcHJIZsU7aqdBODnE18BryK-o4E17IC23oZwWQ1dqjS_xIxB26WPfPMXmOVKGPBdmoTAX2VQdOx01Q1fb29RDR_OOqDL0dno0tJ9uIWEU0vg6chvPQ3-O-3ZoKB1/s640/blogger-image-1586483108.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Far right, fried fish cakes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sauteed meat & veg</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RIlGvPCeLWa3WhE6gp72KBLq8Gqc3W0idLnsJ6OqEdLsvcQz7gLzbjINr-iodDrRN3A2ofVYRsUcz05pInAwkU14g1ktNTgdBPbNixHbA0p5kozmgBwl7yEsqW14mDppZ_aoxVuoAEwd/s640/blogger-image--1647533378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RIlGvPCeLWa3WhE6gp72KBLq8Gqc3W0idLnsJ6OqEdLsvcQz7gLzbjINr-iodDrRN3A2ofVYRsUcz05pInAwkU14g1ktNTgdBPbNixHbA0p5kozmgBwl7yEsqW14mDppZ_aoxVuoAEwd/s640/blogger-image--1647533378.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Loog choob (sweet yellow bean paste glazed with gelatin)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9doWjd93G2NPCRToyV1u5ZlWRb68WUcn2Yc3tqpRn-3cNBItuFsbP1t0Nfk8-0Y5UIrNWn3s34zj7tFn6uhxZCIGaQxNGotTLteyDelbqR1M2extHkB3sXmHwOJMPFxqZDAkzCwW2Jve/s640/blogger-image--649019122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9doWjd93G2NPCRToyV1u5ZlWRb68WUcn2Yc3tqpRn-3cNBItuFsbP1t0Nfk8-0Y5UIrNWn3s34zj7tFn6uhxZCIGaQxNGotTLteyDelbqR1M2extHkB3sXmHwOJMPFxqZDAkzCwW2Jve/s640/blogger-image--649019122.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Braised beef & rice noodles in savory beef broth</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscePzFWCcdhnnhFz9Y0IHbsCtyqRGmIh5yCIkIkVIMoUFwTaVzjs-uaCR5R0YIKnRpEkKQ7_nPtENlpugAsPrC_2OLRxhvx_9kc22Y5KjeSii1EqqD5HCpIgeWzSmEHwYXxoS0BaKv9UX/s640/blogger-image-1029215400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiscePzFWCcdhnnhFz9Y0IHbsCtyqRGmIh5yCIkIkVIMoUFwTaVzjs-uaCR5R0YIKnRpEkKQ7_nPtENlpugAsPrC_2OLRxhvx_9kc22Y5KjeSii1EqqD5HCpIgeWzSmEHwYXxoS0BaKv9UX/s640/blogger-image-1029215400.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Khanom sai sie (coconut custard with a sweet center)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuj_vTUH4bum_IW_wcc5zOaKzow6qk_W2OxQyjvdfuSPgA2CG3DNmIa3Tdxy10gPQHA21o6t3DlenJ7jZxbjcLmq3IiQY_DcL1t7rsMRB5_sB6Iy1W5Lnckyu6_fercEhtpgypHR2fmSXm/s640/blogger-image--1549615996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuj_vTUH4bum_IW_wcc5zOaKzow6qk_W2OxQyjvdfuSPgA2CG3DNmIa3Tdxy10gPQHA21o6t3DlenJ7jZxbjcLmq3IiQY_DcL1t7rsMRB5_sB6Iy1W5Lnckyu6_fercEhtpgypHR2fmSXm/s640/blogger-image--1549615996.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fish & chips</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsfIc8xZMMgG0cwpb1Dv7ZLVyo-2TOOxe8XBwFltd1Hk-I9Ctqt4m5MWkB34mTu4pY8Gi8XbNLOgH8WRVsiiHNv5wmzulClOuUigJMMGWra8pGZvbl9KbI821xw7eXZIvPnbF7oa8y5E9/s640/blogger-image--1206663452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsfIc8xZMMgG0cwpb1Dv7ZLVyo-2TOOxe8XBwFltd1Hk-I9Ctqt4m5MWkB34mTu4pY8Gi8XbNLOgH8WRVsiiHNv5wmzulClOuUigJMMGWra8pGZvbl9KbI821xw7eXZIvPnbF7oa8y5E9/s640/blogger-image--1206663452.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Top right: Omelet with minced pork </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bottom right: Fried bananas with honey</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Left: Fruit shakes</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuOTA0bkppNWLtMh9qHnayu4VkyFUOn0n2BO6Wmo_MwOLF2tO8t-x35wcv5wWXoqfjv8kcDFVZVo_ZVvaVU3ZahjNhDLg1KWAsSpyDe4zotnpmZ5F_eRBWhS-XGzNlyf5kFs59iDbJteO/s640/blogger-image--1567507841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYuOTA0bkppNWLtMh9qHnayu4VkyFUOn0n2BO6Wmo_MwOLF2tO8t-x35wcv5wWXoqfjv8kcDFVZVo_ZVvaVU3ZahjNhDLg1KWAsSpyDe4zotnpmZ5F_eRBWhS-XGzNlyf5kFs59iDbJteO/s640/blogger-image--1567507841.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yakult</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZdK7HjrbtdunwNTFdV1mvvtA5iwJms7I9VFc5w9pICQ4_5qI2IFYsAZipWGZCfWpVmQ2EMczXgKXe3DMxY3FiRN6AdIQaLH65zLLlMXZ1lEmWclPzynH2CmptS0562PzL08oH9fVP9E1/s640/blogger-image-981146992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZdK7HjrbtdunwNTFdV1mvvtA5iwJms7I9VFc5w9pICQ4_5qI2IFYsAZipWGZCfWpVmQ2EMczXgKXe3DMxY3FiRN6AdIQaLH65zLLlMXZ1lEmWclPzynH2CmptS0562PzL08oH9fVP9E1/s640/blogger-image-981146992.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Guava with sugar, salt & chili</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdFk499kYj4cRUCUTDbVHoG62UGXQsMVrYWUIdIeSGMSXFA2MtKuTsewo1pXqOdR50UMvDzjBKCQ_lFgJNVRhCy80WqzdH7c6kcUcUnYvq0eVUTF7hHT2Do5XkqQ-bBESYjw2hUxZBIfW/s640/blogger-image-67930442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdFk499kYj4cRUCUTDbVHoG62UGXQsMVrYWUIdIeSGMSXFA2MtKuTsewo1pXqOdR50UMvDzjBKCQ_lFgJNVRhCy80WqzdH7c6kcUcUnYvq0eVUTF7hHT2Do5XkqQ-bBESYjw2hUxZBIfW/s200/blogger-image-67930442.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Khanom Jeen Nahm Ngeaw, a northern Thai noodle dish, with thin round, rice noodles, minced pork and baby pork ribs, blood cubes, tomatoes, and dried Ngiw flowers in a clear, spicy broth</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVPA52V5JbY1DC30GxJeuWiGAyTL56rgCB7rpoN7WFYI5lamsdgaoJSp9AjMT6LO12mnXOnW78tJL4uE9d_h9kU7HIiBJ5VyAldvvMSv5c5l9x-6SRsm6R7xOxAR6kDQQHx-hq15vjEbAI/s640/blogger-image--154098249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVPA52V5JbY1DC30GxJeuWiGAyTL56rgCB7rpoN7WFYI5lamsdgaoJSp9AjMT6LO12mnXOnW78tJL4uE9d_h9kU7HIiBJ5VyAldvvMSv5c5l9x-6SRsm6R7xOxAR6kDQQHx-hq15vjEbAI/s200/blogger-image--154098249.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Soft Shell Crab Bun</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBjBewlxKOgdQeiaXy5k41-cDpVpzmHAhrsSC_sFN4Xrch1SWfWE9KF8gHNaH_5Bd2db_ftdV-Mw4olRVwOXIhyphenhyphen64cCwW7JpjIBtkMyIpMQA1SwGFUPe-qwrDTvTXkM155gnjqShq_yJR/s640/blogger-image-327036653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBjBewlxKOgdQeiaXy5k41-cDpVpzmHAhrsSC_sFN4Xrch1SWfWE9KF8gHNaH_5Bd2db_ftdV-Mw4olRVwOXIhyphenhyphen64cCwW7JpjIBtkMyIpMQA1SwGFUPe-qwrDTvTXkM155gnjqShq_yJR/s200/blogger-image-327036653.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sliced rare beef with thin rice noodles in a savory beef broth </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRy2TQg_tQVowmIL5AHF1Ausm3iLCiGEaCYkkefxcQ5eCGYuVujL14DzEz6HebMI5mA55RM0jMBQkvzHZWrqWUSpCGQ-aGGYGIbrSjUix4D-hox21GMx7eOvepNyWMTg1aMsppUOyfGPuP/s640/blogger-image--668899739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRy2TQg_tQVowmIL5AHF1Ausm3iLCiGEaCYkkefxcQ5eCGYuVujL14DzEz6HebMI5mA55RM0jMBQkvzHZWrqWUSpCGQ-aGGYGIbrSjUix4D-hox21GMx7eOvepNyWMTg1aMsppUOyfGPuP/s200/blogger-image--668899739.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Xiao Long Bao</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3d5mGTDa3Zasr5mJzoTt8EgCqGyMuksgqB5Zv0SzBfBN-k4VLUM-1n-yewSlNFWOxREy6ia02RlSv7a1TwHMc-VrADm_I6A6scFV_1t6AclreOkQX1FYHTjWKs50JcHKnLAAsI_YUr7j/s640/blogger-image-1209950517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3d5mGTDa3Zasr5mJzoTt8EgCqGyMuksgqB5Zv0SzBfBN-k4VLUM-1n-yewSlNFWOxREy6ia02RlSv7a1TwHMc-VrADm_I6A6scFV_1t6AclreOkQX1FYHTjWKs50JcHKnLAAsI_YUr7j/s200/blogger-image-1209950517.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yen ta fo, spicy seafood soup with fish balls, blood cubes, and rice noodles</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX5FEDjVS9Lj71J754J0r2J5uP8ENBELFM_AsaBTrBeVjsLCULkdus-pt8Nx2EjGIJjgxFgqZaB0g0435kksuYxMhA_ugyZy0U19SBqgBbV4GQgYBTy3C0OT1TPcnWbCMNgzsYpR3lpC5/s640/blogger-image-505616783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX5FEDjVS9Lj71J754J0r2J5uP8ENBELFM_AsaBTrBeVjsLCULkdus-pt8Nx2EjGIJjgxFgqZaB0g0435kksuYxMhA_ugyZy0U19SBqgBbV4GQgYBTy3C0OT1TPcnWbCMNgzsYpR3lpC5/s200/blogger-image-505616783.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Froyo in a fish shaped, custard-filled waffle, served with a dark chocolate-dipped fresh fruit skewer</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35llarQgjZFSJvGmiIhp1SOIHf95pzMlE7sQEZTGvtw3RGeUpAki1CI-AL1qJRAvYBpL9LrHGEDcD3F1foMxwT2OpyEVSJAdMl7slC2wXII0BWDIn3c-8es-MUHJ6JZUb3jG-F53n7aFn/s640/blogger-image-945814672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh35llarQgjZFSJvGmiIhp1SOIHf95pzMlE7sQEZTGvtw3RGeUpAki1CI-AL1qJRAvYBpL9LrHGEDcD3F1foMxwT2OpyEVSJAdMl7slC2wXII0BWDIn3c-8es-MUHJ6JZUb3jG-F53n7aFn/s200/blogger-image-945814672.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Best of the season mango ice cream</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJ90bQIya1E1o490898QahzmhKUy5Ep4qGYPBeMbt9VQ2X97ZSZ2eyjtALTf-MWQ0p9M4INHSk78CPS_UjH5kgNXFFpFpyN75KLBNM56GNOlfjNegsES6MRwLRRl7cxZIKgNQMAiKFgra/s640/blogger-image--678607985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJ90bQIya1E1o490898QahzmhKUy5Ep4qGYPBeMbt9VQ2X97ZSZ2eyjtALTf-MWQ0p9M4INHSk78CPS_UjH5kgNXFFpFpyN75KLBNM56GNOlfjNegsES6MRwLRRl7cxZIKgNQMAiKFgra/s200/blogger-image--678607985.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan Dan Mien</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwdd3BUekxUz4LD-I2gL58ZIBF3sTEsaJlsLvFg_hTnwAH_phBiIYplcmufW74CsSjU_CjnaYTNRv0enbj_and3f_L4tsdo4Nxxoglz_guNHaHuC4WrQL_0LZmF0hjcHcW5wNhbb2TCQN/s640/blogger-image-1851323620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwdd3BUekxUz4LD-I2gL58ZIBF3sTEsaJlsLvFg_hTnwAH_phBiIYplcmufW74CsSjU_CjnaYTNRv0enbj_and3f_L4tsdo4Nxxoglz_guNHaHuC4WrQL_0LZmF0hjcHcW5wNhbb2TCQN/s200/blogger-image-1851323620.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pork belly bun</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMBeaVWp74720kU8ozcXmToy6ROreU3188IWkIH0NYb0PwwOH9MezzhyphenhyphenTAr1PLU8H2OgZ2rkhhW7lKfBEcZPZ3yO7kEMcz8viWKg7-3svWW83gYqPXivoPNC8eo9cxFsBaIB_pfJDNZnU/s640/blogger-image--1890737966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqMBeaVWp74720kU8ozcXmToy6ROreU3188IWkIH0NYb0PwwOH9MezzhyphenhyphenTAr1PLU8H2OgZ2rkhhW7lKfBEcZPZ3yO7kEMcz8viWKg7-3svWW83gYqPXivoPNC8eo9cxFsBaIB_pfJDNZnU/s200/blogger-image--1890737966.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Salmon with Ikura Chirashi</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZteylUFVFKvQMESD8d1SB_8NnxVgW01Cy7PZhczXIspD6dBgKl19t4kg_wqdjY4iayNCAtLsfL2vcMMIW19iI1fqG-NvIpBInEnxdWIT5MnsHX3ffqHY-i49RrJYF2GmRV1yVjVM_sx5w/s640/blogger-image--573140207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZteylUFVFKvQMESD8d1SB_8NnxVgW01Cy7PZhczXIspD6dBgKl19t4kg_wqdjY4iayNCAtLsfL2vcMMIW19iI1fqG-NvIpBInEnxdWIT5MnsHX3ffqHY-i49RrJYF2GmRV1yVjVM_sx5w/s200/blogger-image--573140207.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gin & citrus cocktail</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ji3P1ye4uunxMlgGsCEVFReq1XsX8Kr18pZBYlTbJXn8ZIjsGz4sHmcInoR_cB1p2uwXZjJg83lrrFqnMcb7Bep1t2jSBMG8TakEaOfqSxCotAyBL9Fe4TtKy2fKtk9-sVTNwYxVh15F/s640/blogger-image--250413544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ji3P1ye4uunxMlgGsCEVFReq1XsX8Kr18pZBYlTbJXn8ZIjsGz4sHmcInoR_cB1p2uwXZjJg83lrrFqnMcb7Bep1t2jSBMG8TakEaOfqSxCotAyBL9Fe4TtKy2fKtk9-sVTNwYxVh15F/s200/blogger-image--250413544.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Americano</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_nUWvnyNPoBGQhIhSRtSuC_T127bYaFnzFv5YUFiB34qy1NSGZE72VnrnUjzkoe2r64-qmu1XsLRQIl4kltYUktGnm4j83B41KYwZitCZjLeyezi_0fIJvHt9nttCLl8QvW3zt7pAZb7/s640/blogger-image-1827406649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_nUWvnyNPoBGQhIhSRtSuC_T127bYaFnzFv5YUFiB34qy1NSGZE72VnrnUjzkoe2r64-qmu1XsLRQIl4kltYUktGnm4j83B41KYwZitCZjLeyezi_0fIJvHt9nttCLl8QvW3zt7pAZb7/s200/blogger-image-1827406649.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Perfectly medium rare</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbyu9IJ_cwkaJMcYkLIttNWkwUvJR3lZmAMMLsxEZx4yiiQru6ezkB-FR8n4bObQmAbPwionF7nIQNOC93-rt3Wg2eqBZpLkyD2g69qSQaCzTtgXu-ClEYFnkostslK28wdeUBGpSfBvj/s640/blogger-image-1989162626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbyu9IJ_cwkaJMcYkLIttNWkwUvJR3lZmAMMLsxEZx4yiiQru6ezkB-FR8n4bObQmAbPwionF7nIQNOC93-rt3Wg2eqBZpLkyD2g69qSQaCzTtgXu-ClEYFnkostslK28wdeUBGpSfBvj/s200/blogger-image-1989162626.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Piccolo Latte</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuB3ldu7oGGN_t0diX8tu6ErABBxKXzRADE3H6n_9bKzPN8dISk27aILFDwHomRG1VvsJAa9EkbT7zvofCuPKH8JRV9HE75w9cOE_VF6tVopoPju43exkObHLoYjBhpffuNCR_-FbQ-gR8/s640/blogger-image--1041572440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuB3ldu7oGGN_t0diX8tu6ErABBxKXzRADE3H6n_9bKzPN8dISk27aILFDwHomRG1VvsJAa9EkbT7zvofCuPKH8JRV9HE75w9cOE_VF6tVopoPju43exkObHLoYjBhpffuNCR_-FbQ-gR8/s200/blogger-image--1041572440.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Watermelon shake</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRw7k16Kcj7EIoOHn_mDbyQI_NHPyzSexZFtr4zPTcKQ68exccWG4gQTJ7ldzj7VdlFeav-hza2Lnh_9uf2nrELQUvQtpA0PlzPF4tCNP7uGAudOivMqShPqHn8Q0ZVxN4go90up4rI-4/s640/blogger-image-512562810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRw7k16Kcj7EIoOHn_mDbyQI_NHPyzSexZFtr4zPTcKQ68exccWG4gQTJ7ldzj7VdlFeav-hza2Lnh_9uf2nrELQUvQtpA0PlzPF4tCNP7uGAudOivMqShPqHn8Q0ZVxN4go90up4rI-4/s200/blogger-image-512562810.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pina Colada</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5V2Wb1yzCIL3rGrCXM46GOtRgcCL_9zmIsQAmePX8XfErSYmTZiQsKzdANjPEIY8Ggak_486QkUqySxPpNDDMFYGRvTMVNIF_bCY5ST0JkNvi4LFNAQs9xiMvUoPMRrciEpH76VIa6HLm/s640/blogger-image--14484641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5V2Wb1yzCIL3rGrCXM46GOtRgcCL_9zmIsQAmePX8XfErSYmTZiQsKzdANjPEIY8Ggak_486QkUqySxPpNDDMFYGRvTMVNIF_bCY5ST0JkNvi4LFNAQs9xiMvUoPMRrciEpH76VIa6HLm/s200/blogger-image--14484641.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Chocolate sundae</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVTqmnWqpr-sbQnNzPkbCnRgsCINNl5oc-boXY5o-Irhh68eJWDLlYUTYT0vrmy-fvo_aJbTARwprnjPbn4yEN1Su1fHomephl5K5D_W-K-Mxe6QBnGBWTgBxxgeQSoDu0E0HhFAvptl3/s640/blogger-image-441320278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVTqmnWqpr-sbQnNzPkbCnRgsCINNl5oc-boXY5o-Irhh68eJWDLlYUTYT0vrmy-fvo_aJbTARwprnjPbn4yEN1Su1fHomephl5K5D_W-K-Mxe6QBnGBWTgBxxgeQSoDu0E0HhFAvptl3/s200/blogger-image-441320278.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mini cupcakes galore</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdubiXlJHG_ayvARkg4H1PYvJstiqz63O1uT4nXnEF1WNv-wUmO9baxdztE1XWT9s3BXVhGveK3BMcgPStvHN9rsrrOBri1ZSlMNd6H7i2reLFHiz8TuzyQCRHH2ZRANDxOOshvb_pyZ0/s640/blogger-image--968087710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdubiXlJHG_ayvARkg4H1PYvJstiqz63O1uT4nXnEF1WNv-wUmO9baxdztE1XWT9s3BXVhGveK3BMcgPStvHN9rsrrOBri1ZSlMNd6H7i2reLFHiz8TuzyQCRHH2ZRANDxOOshvb_pyZ0/s200/blogger-image--968087710.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Clam chowder in sourdough bowl</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Bangkok, Thailand13.7563309 100.5017651000000613.7563309 100.50176510000006 13.7563309 100.50176510000006tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-45396605439128376902012-10-26T11:51:00.001-07:002015-05-29T11:40:20.875-07:00Siem Reap ShenanigansI think I heard roosters cock-a-doodle-doooing when i left for mochit bus station at 5 a.m. to catch the bus to Aranyaprathet. Apparently mochit had moved to a new location, unbeknownst to me. The cab driver knew where he was going though. As we approached the bus station, he asked if i wanted to be dropped off at the overpass and cross over, otherwise he'd have to make a u-turn into pretty heavy traffic. there was no way in hell i was lugging my backpack across the bridge. basically i'm the worst backpacker ever. my cab fare was 140 baht or something like that.<br />
<br />
i walked up to the ticket window and asked for a ticket to aranyaprathet and it ended up costing me 238 baht for a 2nd class air conditioned bus, departing at 6 am. i had time to buy snacks and cigs at the 7-11 and before i knew it, the bus and i were on our merry way. thai buses always stop for locals along the way so our voyage took way longer than it should've. we got to aranyaprathet bus terminal and had to take a tuktuk to the border itself. our female tuktuk driver took us to a building which was supposedly the cambodian embassy?<br />
<br />
it seemed shady so i asked the irish couple i shared the tuktuk with what they thought. we ended up waiting in line at the border for our visas. after that ordeal, we had to find the free shuttle which transported us to yet another bus terminal. non air con bus fare from poipet to siem reap was $10 and took several hours, i think it was 2ish-3. nothing but rice paddies, field. anorexic cows and red dirt roads the whole way there. as we approached siem reap, there were several high end hotels and resorts, and our bus parked in an alley where motorbikes and tuktuks were waiting to take us to our next destination. my irish bus buddies and i parted ways.<br />
<br />
my motobike for hire asked where i wanted to go and o said that i had no clue, somewhere clean and cheap. Angkor Western Lodge deep in a poorly lit street was where i ended up. $6 per night for a stuffy room with a fan, no hot water, stained sheets that made me itch all night, and a toilet that leaked. i noticed that the hotel workers slept in the common area, on mats on the floor. i woke up with 6 spider bites. i hope they were spider bites. there was noise from drunk people all night long as well as multiple dogs barking non-stop. the next day i went in search of a room closer to the center of town and found Ponloue Anglor Villa for $12 per night. the room was clean, had a mini fridge, hot water, and a/c, plus towels! what a luxury! towels and clean bed linens! the hotel clerk was very friendly and seemed very interested in everything i had to say. i didn't think anything of if.<br />
<br />
i went to Angkor Western Lodge to grab my backpack and bring it to the new guesthouse. i had to hire a tuktuk for $1 and he drove me to the new guesthouse and carried my bag up for me. by the way, atm machines in siem reap spit out crispy U.S. dollars. most vendors and stores accept dollars as well as cambodian riel. where was i? oh, so the hotel clerk at the new guesthouse walked me back up to my room even though i knew where my room was and checked the a/c (which didn't really work btw) and plugged in my mini fridge for me. i thought that was a nice touch. he lingered for a moment and then asked if he could stay in touch with me, he thought i was very sexy and saw my necklace that says "fuck".<br />
<br />
i'd had this necklace made a long time ago. it has white gold letters that spell fuck along with wings on either side, thus, a flying fuck. the hotel clerk must've gotten the wrong idea. i asked him if he acted this way with all hotel guests? i said he was making me uncomfortable and he replied,"just kidding" and walked off.. later that evening, i my couchsurfing host came to pick me up in his tuktuk. we drove quite awhile out of the city, to West Baray Lake, and had spicy raw green bean salad as we watched the sun set over the lake. On the way back, we stopped and visited the orphanage where my friend Ratha donates his time and English skills. what an upstanding individual, right?<br />
<br />
i was supposed to couchsurf with him but changed my mind, since accomodations were inexpensive amyway in siem reap. after visiting the kids at the orphanage, ratha and i went to a cambodian restaurant and had some cambodian beer, served by a beer girl, dressed in a short red and white outfit, looking much like a flight attendant or something. i let ratha do the ordering. stir fried beef and chives accompanied by sliced and toasted baguettes and morning glory stalks with fatty ground pork. we had a good time. ratha dropped me back off at the hotel and we made plans to hang out again the following day. <br />
<br />
i think i slept in late and awoke to. persistent banging on my door. i opened the door and it was the perv hotel clerk. he said he was sorry to disturb me and just wanted to know if i wanted to stay another night. i nodded and shut the door. not feeling 100%, i. went and walked around pub street, had an espresso and hot apple pie, and wandered the night market. i got back to the guesthouse at around 10ish. 15 minutes after i had gotten back to my room, i heard light knocking. it kept going for about an hour or so. i called ratha twice amd he was out drinking but came to retrieve me.<br />
<br />
i ended up checking out of the guesthouse at close to midnight, and when i told the hotel owners about the knocking, the looked at me like i was crazy and wouldn't give me a refund. ratha took me to chenla guesthouse, which was quite a ways from the center of town. for $15, i got a sparkling clean room with plush towels, a mini fridge, crisp cold a/c, hot water, toilet that didn't leak and flushed, and even 2 complimentary bottles of water. i sent my friend on a mission. i wanted to smoke opium. so we did. he started acting weird so i excused myself and went to my room. i got some pretty strange texts a short while later. i'll let you read them yourself.<br />
<br />
my intention was to hang out in siem reap for a few days, head to phnom penh, and then sihanoukhville. well after all the lechery, not to mention lots of prank calls, i was over cambodia. i basically booked a busride out of siemreap at 7:00am the following day. the bus showed up at 7:48am. a/c bus ride ended up costing $14. we got to the thai-cambodia border and immigration took 2 freaking hours. by the time we got to khao san road on bangkok it was nearly 7 pm and i needed a beer (or 12) like no one's business. i had recruited a british guy, chris, and we ended up at the iron faeries (a bar in Thonglor) then back to khao san road for beer from a cart. i had a 365 baht "room" at the green house in on soi rambuttri but it wasn't really a room. it was reminiscent of a jail cell...didn't matter though, i was on enough valium and booze to kill a small elephant and don't even remember when i crashed out. it must've been instantaneous.<br />
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Krong Siem Reap, Cambodia13.362222 103.8597220000000313.362222 103.85972200000003 13.362222 103.85972200000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-2837848255746745752012-09-04T19:32:00.001-07:002012-09-04T19:32:17.003-07:00Chase Quickpay is a complete scamThe name "Quickpay" brings to mind efficiency and speed, right? <br />
<br />
An electronic transfer was made to my checking account on August 30, 2012<br />
I accepted the transfer on September 1, 2012<br />
Today is September 4, 2012<br />
I still haven't been able to access my funds. <br />
To make matters worse, I'm in a foreign country, and I have no cash. <br />
Fuck my fucking life.Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-34130554138706609842012-09-02T10:41:00.001-07:002015-05-29T16:34:09.557-07:00On The Way to Venezia (Venice)August 3, 2012 6:01p.m.<br />
<br />
There are a bajillion roundabouts everywhere in Italy. It's almost as if whomever did the blueprint for the roads just randomly plopped roundabouts wherever they wanted. The good part about roundabouts is, if you don't have a clue where you're going, you can just keep circling until you figure it out. The bad part is, gas is super expensive. When we first got to Europe, I was like woah! Gas is so cheap! (Stupid American, they sell it by the liter.) <br />
<br />
We get lost in Bergamo trying to find the stupid outlets, but never succeed. We jump back in the Smart Car and mosey on over to Lago di Garda (Lake Garda) and then Verona. I think the main attraction of Verona is the Arena. We parked the car and couldn't read any of the parking signs, and sat down for dinner at one of the restaurants, Ippopotamo. I asked the waitress what the deal with the parking was, and she said I needed to move my car from where it was or they'd stick me with a €30 fine. Ew! I ran to move the car, we had din, then gelato, and we hopped in the car via Venezia.<br />
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VENEZIA<br />
Kiani is carsick by the time we arrive in Venezia. I had driven all the way to the port, near the beginning of the Grand Canal. It was dark by then and I somehow mistakenly drove all the way back to Mestre, the town just outside of Venezia. Kiani was huffy and said we needed to get a hotel asap so we checked into Hotel Apogia Sirio Venezia at 2 a.m. Room #607<br />
The parking fee is €12 and the wifi is €3/hour. Their network, sirio_WAN is a fucking bitch and won't let me conmect and I'm starving and so os Kiani, but it looks like the entire town is asleep, so we go to bed starving. <br />
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There are ever so many tolls on the way from Milano to Venezia. We probably spent over €20 in tolls. Every time we'd exit into a town, we'd have to pay anywhere from €1.20 up to €8.20. Along the way, we saw what appeared to be an old castle. We had exited to find it but got lost and sidetracked. I was driving in circles from about 3:00 p.m. til we found a hotel with vacancies at 2:00 a.m. no wonder Kiani was pukey faced.<br />
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Kiani fell asleep with her eye mask on. I'm breaking out, probably from falling asleep with my makeup on. She just woke up and asked me how many lights did we need on. I asked if her eye mask was working and she replied,"Yes. But I still can't sleep." For someone who couldn't sleep, she sure was snoring pretty loud. <br />
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I'm famished and can't wait for the complimentary hotel breakfast. All we ate today was some baked goods we had bought in Milano for the roadtrip. and then lasagna in Verona...<br />
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I just hit my left knee on something really hard. OW!<br />
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August 3, 2012<br />
We slept through my bajillion alarms and got downstairs to the free breakfast just in the nick of time. The croissants were delicious and tastes like brioche, but the watermelon tasted like it had been sitting next to a bunch of onions in the fridge. Onion scented melon. Gross. I went back to sleep for an hour after breakfast, then got up to shower. Kiani had showered before me and said that the bathroom had flooded, and it flooded even more after I was done. The front desk called to remind us that check out was at noon. we checked out at 12:37. Sorry. <br />
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We head towards the tourist infested Venezia. We circled around for a bit, looking for parking for our toy car and begrudgingly parked in the structure that charges €26/day. To our knowledge, there are only 2 parking structures around there... Highway robbery! The parking attendant on the 2nd level of the structure told is we needed to give him the keys. Um. No. Option 2 was park on the 10th level and keep our keys. The 10th level was uncovered. We left bananas in the car that were slightly green, and were fully ripe when we returned later. It was so hot and humid that I didn't even have to wear lotion anymore. 5 minutes after showering and sticky again! <br />
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Venezia is a total tourist trap and I found it extremely difficult to take a photo of anything without 10 or so people trying to do the exact same thing. The architecture and landscape were beautiful, however, the snotty local workers and swarms of tourists were not. We walked for awhile and sat down for a bite at Trattoria Al Brindisi and Kiani had the Branzino, and I, the Spaghetti Vongole, and a split of Soave. Kiani's Branzino cost €8 for every 100 grams, so €24 for the small piece of fish. Apparently Venezia adds 12% gratuity to all checks! Perhaps we should've paid more attention to the menu, but €62 for 2 entrees, a soda, and a half bottle of wine is a bit steep. We made full use of the restaurant's wifi before making our way to San Marco Square. To get to San Marco, we had to buy ferry tickets, €7 per person per trip. San Marco had more souvenir shops, higher end boutiques, art galleries, etc. We forgot to go to Murano, known for their special glass, but I at least bought a Murano glass bracelet. <br />
<br />
We window shopped and oohed and aahed at ancient buildings and gondolas til we got tired, then hopped on a ferry back to P. Roma. We thought we were going the wrong way but ended up right by the parking structure where we'd left the car. We grabbed a Margherita pizza for din, bought postcards and stamps, and mailed em off. Postage to the U.S. from Italy is €1.70 <br />
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<br />Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Venice, Italy45.4408474 12.31551509999997145.4408474 12.315515099999971 45.4408474 12.315515099999971tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-64382229523691764972012-08-29T17:47:00.000-07:002015-05-29T11:41:19.284-07:00Milano<br />
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We flew EasyJet from London Lutons on July 30, 2012 and landed in Milan Malpensa 5:40 p.m. The bus from the airport was 15 euros and it leaves every 20 minutes. It took the bus about 40 minutes from the airport to the center of Milan. From there it was a 15 euro cab ride to our hotel.</div>
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Idea Hotel Milano Watttredici was in a shady looking neighbourhood. There was tons of grimy graffiti. We were staying there from Monday, July 30 to Wednesday, August 1. The receptionist was a really tan brunette with huge fake boobies, and fake, french manicured nails. We checked in, got up to our room, and couldn't figure out how to turn the lights on in the room. We asked each other if this was some sort of joke. I even turned my flashlight on, and finally, Kiani called the fake tittied receptionist and asked her how to turn the lights on. Her response, "You have the put the key card in the wall, Madame." No one told us how high-tech Europe was...sorry for living!</div>
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We were starving and tired, as per usual, and found a bar/restaurant across the street, Enoteca Boscogrosso. Their kitchen had already closed, and the staff didn't really speak much english. We were famished, and ordered whatever they had available. my friend's salad was HUGE and so was my salumi and cheese platter. We never finished it, but suckered down the bottle of Falanghina. We were just grateful for food at that late hour...The staff actually sat down and chatted with us haha. We told them we loved carbonara so they said to come back the following night and they would make it especially for us, it wasn't on the menu.<br />
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A hot hot blonde babe wanders in and my friend Kiani and I both want to be her friend. We end up chatting and she buys us all rounds of Limoncello, and invites us to hang out by the pool in her Villa the following day. We stumble home to the hotel a short while later.</div>
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Hot blonde babe's boyfriend texts us the next day on behalf of his girlfriend, that she is not feeling well and that the pool would be postponed. Kiani had left to wander around and I slept in. She was waiting around the Duomo and I took a cab to go meet her. Somewhere in between her texting me, and me getting to the Duomo, she had dropped her iphone and the screen had gone blank. I sat down on the steps in front of the church and looked around for her, then looked to my right. She was setting not too far away, on the same steps. Close call! We decided we wanted to climb to the top of the Duomo, and it costs 6 euros to climb the 250 steps, and 10 euros to take the elevator. </div>
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Later that evening, we head to Enoteca Boscogrosso, and true to their word, our spaghetti carbonara is waiting for us. Hot blonde babe is there as well, and she picks us up at our hotel the following day after we've checked out of our hotel. We lounge by the pool at her Villa in Zibido San Giacomo for several hours, sipping on prosecco that her father produces! She says she would love to have us stay at the Villa, but it is unsafe. There had been a few robberies in the area recently. All the Italians had left to go on vacation and robbery was skyrocketing.</div>
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Hot blonde babe, Isabell, had promised to make us the best carbonara ever. We stayed at her apartment in Milano for the next 2 days. Her carbonara was truly the best I've ever had. I think she was a socialite, and an ex model. We found an old magazine ad she was in...I've never ever met such a hospitable and generous person in my life. When she picked us up at our hotel, she brought her car, and her boyfriend drove separately and stashed our bags in his car...her car was too small she said.</div>
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Isabell and her boyfriend, Mario, introduced us to all their friends, took us sightseeing, and made us feel so at home. We saw Castello Sforzesco e Fontana, Le Colonne, where we visited a few bars, and La Hora Feliz, where we had happy hour. There was a huge buffet at La Hora Feliz. Basically you buy a drink, and you can load up on as much food as you can fit in your belly!!! I've never seen anything like it. My favorites were the croquettes and the prosciutto wrapped melon. I think I ate the entire tray of nutella cookies.</div>
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Isabell made our visit to Milan one that we will remember for the rest of our lives. She invited us on a lake excursion, but we rented a Smartcar and drove to Lago di Garda (Garda Lake) instead.</div>
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We did a pitstop in Verona and couldn't figure out what the parking signs meant. Wandered around for a bit and Kiani and I got sidetracked and separated by the Arena, but found each other again. We sat down for dinner at Ippopotamo, and I asked the waitress if it was ok to park where we parked. She shook her head and said I should move it or be slapped with a 30 euro fine. I got to the car and luckily, there was no ticket. I moved the car to the street with the giant clock tower, and ran back to eat my lasagna. There was a cold stone gelato shop attached to the restaurant...I think we ate gelato twice a day, every day the whole time we were in Italy.</div>
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We jumped in the car and made our way toward Venezia...</div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Milan, Italy45.4654219 9.1859243000000145.4654219 9.18592430000001 45.4654219 9.18592430000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-91233362820277556652012-08-29T16:07:00.001-07:002015-05-29T11:42:25.949-07:00ParisWe flew EasyJet from Ibiza and landed in Paris, Charles De Gaulle Airport on July 20, 2012 at 11:10 p.m. EasyJet is Europe's budget airline, and the prices are so low because they don't include checked luggage. You are only allowed one carry on bag and it can't weigh more than 10 kilograms! It's 15 euros to add one checked bag online and 30 euros at the airport, which I ended up having to do. We took a cab from CDG airport to our hotel, which was in Clichy. The receptionist took a liking to my friend, and told us he'd be off in a bit if we wanted to grab a bite to eat with him. We dumped our backpacks off, freshened up, and met our friend, I forget his name?! He was Russian, but lived in Paris, and he took us to a doner shop down the street. He was nice enough to pay for our meal.<br />
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Aside from beautiful architecture and delicious food, we found Paris a bit boring. We managed to scrape by not speaking a lick of French, but Parisians are hardly warm and comforting as a whole...We managed to do everything on my mental checklist: The Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, The Arc de Triomphe, and Notre Dame, and Champs Elysee. We also found a French Army Museum. <br />
We had never been to Paris before and had no clue where to stay. Clichy is in the buttfuck of nowhere, so we relied on taxis to get around. I think we took the subway a few times too, but it was rather confusing, as we didn't know where the fuck we were. We spent a total of 4 days in Paris, which was plenty for us. We really couldn't wait to get the fuck outta there. <br />
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There were several cafes near our hotel, and all of them had really good food. L'Industrie Cafe serves a mean omelet, even if the staff is a bit smarmy, and Les Deux Coupoles where we dined twice, because we loved the food and the friendly staff so much! We both had the fish of the day the second time we were there and it was so yummy, served with a side of fettucine. The desserts there are decadent! <br />
I didn't start drinking coffee until I set foot in the EU. Espressos are always served with a small cookie or a chocolate in Paris. What a nice touch! I also didn't consume much booze up until we got to France., but enjoyed a glass of wine or two every day, for the most part. The only mediocre restaurant we tried was Pizza Pino. We were starving and drunk and we asked our cab driver where there was a late-night restaurant. It's a pizzeria, how bad could it be, right? We asked the waiter what his fave pizza was...When it came out, we looked at each other inquisitively. It was barely edible, and not cheap. Our other interesting encounter was the cabbie who we told to wait for us as we raided a mini mart for snacks. He not only didn't wait, but gypped us of our change! <br />
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One evening, we were having a lengthy dinner at a cafe, Le Roussilon. My appetizer was bone marrow, and my entree was salmon tartare with frites. For dessert we shared a tiramisu, and it left something to be desired. Everything else was good though. I love European cafes and restaurant because they actually encourage loitering! We camped for a long time, meanwhile making full use of the free wifi. I got up to use the bathroom and bumped into a really cute, tall Aussie. I ran back to Kiani and said, "Wanna meet my new friend???" She thought I was joking...He ended up buying us drinks, and we head to his hotel with him, The Pullman in Bercy. He had to grab something from his room, and afterward we went with him and a friend of his to The Frog in Bercy Village. He buys us a bottle of Bordeaux, which I was supposed to share with Kiani, but guzzled on my own, haha. He goes to the bar and returns with wooden boards holding several shots of beer. Beer sampler boards!!!! I think Kiani got paddled with one of em.<br />
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Long story short, I ended up going back up to the Aussie's hotel room with him (What WAS his name???). His pristine white bed must've looked like a crime scene in the morning because it was that time of month for me. Oops. I went and grabbed Kiani in the hotel lobby where she had been waiting for me, and we made our way back to our hotel in Clichy. The End. <br />
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Paris, France48.856614 2.352221900000017748.856614 2.3522219000000177 48.856614 2.3522219000000177tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-31892622393426895302012-08-29T13:50:00.001-07:002012-08-29T18:09:18.071-07:00Burning Man 2011, Rites of PassageMY TWO CENTS ON BURNING MAN<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="review-container" id="reviews-highlighted" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #444444; font-family: arial, 'Lucida Grande', 'Bitstream Vera Sans', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; line-height: 15.555556297302246px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><ul style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><li class="review clearfix internalReview" id="review_eH0alGtZMUCEfP_zd02jRw" itemprop="review" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Review" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: solid; border-width: 0px 0px 1px; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; vertical-align: baseline; zoom: 1;"><div class="review_comment" itemprop="description" style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; line-height: 1.385; margin-bottom: 10px; padding: 5px 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Make sure once you've received your coveted ticket, to pack it with your other gear. Bring water. And more water. pack a few shiny and or furry bikinis, and this applies for males or females. tutus are recommended also. make sure you have one very warm long furry coat for after the sun sets. The temperature drop is insane. Bring sunscreen or sunblock. I found that the cooling misty sprays worked the best. One thing that i wished I'd remembered to pack last year was a water mister bottle. Other playa peeps had em and it was the most remarkable sensation to be surprise spritzed in the 90+ degree desert heat. Bring a bicycle and maybe a spare bike chain or 2. a few people lost chains last year and some lost their tires. for food, bring non perishable goods. protein bars that don't melt, nuts, pretzels, and canned tuna snacks. i don't think i'll ever be able to eat another canned tuna snack ever again. luna bars and pretzel chips were my go to. and almonds. other campers do give out food, but don't rely on them for sustenance. ooh, canned soup works wonders...<br />
coolers are a must, although ice lasts in there a maximum of 2.5 days. and the camp that does sell ice has a mile long line. port a potties were cleaned often and weren't all that bad. being that i'd never camped before, this was all new to me. sure, hand sanitizer in place of soap and water, why not! and my boots broke the 2nd night i was there so i was forced to duct tape em. then the duct tape gave out and i was stuck wearing 7 inch tall transformer boots with huge buckles, and had to ride my bike around in those...i learned how to ride a bike at burning man, dodging inebriated burners, and art cars...finally i gave up and wore my crocs the rest of the burn...please do bring ear plugs if you have any hopes of sleeping. the dubstep blares day and night. Please do try and sleep. The best time to sleep is around 2 am, the sun glaring through your tent will most definitely wake you up around 8 or 9. the best moments i had were during the day at burning man, riding around on my bike and looking at all the art, meditating at the temple... i really wasn't into all the dance parties or drunken orgies, but everyone experiences burning man in their own way...<br />
met a lot of really amazing and kind souls...<br />
<br />
Make sure to bring useful gifts to trade and barter...Burning man is a gifting community. earplugs are useful. handmade gifts and crafts are useful.<br />
anything that you forgot to pack, someone else will likely have. but don't be a sparkle pony and rely solely on others' kindness.<br />
<br />
after all that's said and done, get ready for the most mind blowing, sensory overload, thought provoking, and spiritual gain-worthy, journey of your life. i'm no longer content with being an observer in life. i am no longer comfortable in my comfort zone. the burning man slogan is ,"oh, the places you'll go!" this slogan could not be any more appropriate. coming back to the real world was so weird. i couldn't quite adapt quickly enough. a lot of people feel that exact same way, so be sure to have a few extra days to decompress before you head back to work or to school...<br />
<br />
burning man 2011 changed my life forever, in more ways than i ever thought possible. there are no words to describe this event. JUST GO!</div><div class="extra-actions clearfix" style="background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 0px; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; zoom: 1;"></div></li></ul></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdi7WVFQNfk2Jo7JLbMAAv8S1KTsFVOuG-FCo8Xg0B_yellvrWVn841S4CpgHg_7NV0hMsr8WGUlqB2qDuf6OOzGJv_J8QtIbbvk6kBsGWaLdSCf_Uw4OpsngHJpMqO5tNhiGYzPIynaoZ/s640/blogger-image-1568711072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdi7WVFQNfk2Jo7JLbMAAv8S1KTsFVOuG-FCo8Xg0B_yellvrWVn841S4CpgHg_7NV0hMsr8WGUlqB2qDuf6OOzGJv_J8QtIbbvk6kBsGWaLdSCf_Uw4OpsngHJpMqO5tNhiGYzPIynaoZ/s640/blogger-image-1568711072.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aVNQ77nA_xiEqTuavCpXbbEppDutqQ-tL6tx98xc5T21x2R1MngQvivtwMPFf6xv8RMtDe1OLotEIJJh1JMWm_C3vwuXq4Uux3ZCULUIH4E9LkkF9TjOvS6BwmWKRIgyXc9HATZsVTLW/s640/blogger-image-1976510373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTrIhrlC7EdUUSckczJa8YODK1iDvSoOszPBPm5fN0eLu29g328WBCz3h7aCaZKPZSOQelmzZukOuDRu8uqxcyuHNv1rgSsigvBdhM58Z59TFZXkS9S79OjZsI8pLYJ1AoVgQezHEsnuCn/s640/blogger-image-1448544677.jpg" /></a></div>Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2691287278930633015.post-26865706047616718742012-08-28T16:27:00.000-07:002015-05-29T11:47:04.548-07:00Ibiza We arrived in Ibiza on Vueling Airlines, Flight 3510 at 6:05 a.m. on Wednesday, July 18, 2012. We had requested an early check-in at Hostal Rosalia in Sant Antoni de Portmany, but of course of course our room wasn't ready when we got there, why would it be? We left our backpacks at the hostal and found a hotel on the beach, which had huge wooden lounge chairs. The cushions were stacked nearby. We were so exhausted that we didn't care about sleeping on a rock hard surface.<br />
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We had stayed out all night the night before, and went straight from an Irish pub in El Born, Barcelona, home to pack our bags and do another line, hopped in a cab to Barcelona airport reeking of booze...After the excruciating airport security screening, we fumbled around for a bit. It's so bizarre to me that the gates at the airport aren't pre-assigned beforehand...While we waited for our gate number to appear on the monitor, I went outside to smoke a cig and look for more booze. Scored some screw top wine at the airport bar, a chardonnay-muscat blend and guzzled it down...<br />
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The flight from Barcelona to Ibiza was way too short, we tried to take a nap but failed miserably. Perhaps it's not the best idea in the world to snort half a gram of blow before a nap attempt. Just sayin...On board, we suckered down 2 mini bottles of prosseco and landed in Ibiza way too soon. We immediately found a taxi in the taxi cue just outside Ibiza airport and it took at least 25 minutes to get to Hostal Rosalia in Sant Antonio. When we were looking for hotel rooms, most everything was sold out in Playa d'en Bossa, so we settled for a room in Sant Antonio. We later found out that Sant Antonio was the equivalent of Spring Break/Frat Boy Central. All the UK-ers stay in Sant Antonio, all the Italians in Playa d'en Bossa.<br />
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Our dingy room cost an arm and a leg. Kiani ended up booking all 3 beds in our room so that we could have some privacy. The guy at the front desk told us we should've notified them beforehand that only 2 of us would be occupying the room?! We paid for all 3 beds, does it matter how many people are in it??? When we booked the room, the website clearly stated that free wifi was available. The alleged wifi was not public wifi, but was used for the hotel surveillance cameras. I don't remember sleeping very well in the dingy hostal, it was basically the place we stashed our bags.<br />
I fucked up royally by booking that 6a.m. flight cuz our room wasn't ready til nearly 2p.m. We walked around and looked for a nice stretch of sand to nap on, but there was none. We saw a tiny bit of beach but it was dirty and infested with party people who were obviously up from the night before. Kiani passed the fuck out on a bench and I poked her and we relocated, back to the hotel's wooden loungechairs. There was a hotel worker who was trying to put the cushions back on the chairs, but i pretended to be asleep and ignored him. We almost got eaten alive by the flies. Ick.<br />
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At some point, we move back to the benches across the way, and just as i start to doze off, 2 policemen on motorbikes rode up and told me that sleeping on the benches was not allowed, and if i had a bikini, to put it on and go sleep on the beach. GRRRRRRRR. They make their way on over to Kiani, 3 benches down, and tell her the same thing they told me. We huff and puff our way back to the Hostal and Kiani says, 'I hate this place.'<br />
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We were sleep deprived and had no energy to do anything, dragged our asses back to the Hostal and asked if we could nap by the pool. We must've been a sight to behold, 2 fully clothed girls by the pool, with makeup on from the night before, asleep and probably snoring in the 100+ degree weather...We awoke from our nap and the room still wasn't ready!!!!!!! I chainsmoked and chatted with some Scottish girls poolside. The hostal rented out mopeds and we saw some dumb chick run her moped into the sidewalk and laughed our asses off. </div>
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PACHA</div>
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As soon as our room was ready, we put our backpacks down, and slept until about 9p.m. Kiani had seen online somewhere that Erick Morillo was spinning at Pacha, so were were riled up about that. We got ready and hadn't even made it far; we found a ticket outlet that had Erick Morillo/Chuckie tickets for 47 euros. We hopped on the disco bus, the bus that drops everyone off at the clubs...the first stop was Amnesia. Next stop: Pacha. I saw Pacha from a mile away, it was illuminated by purple lights. The interior was very posh, and the special effects are spectacular, from the blasts of dry ice, to the laser light shows, to the fireworks coming out of the ceiling.<br />
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We found a roster and Erick Morillo wouldn't come on til 4a.m. so we ask the doorman if we can leave and come back. We take a left and spot a dozen delicious men. The last 2 in the trail stop and chat with us, and we end up spending the rest of the evening with them. Kiani ends up liking Neek, and I like his friend, Carlo. I assume that both boys are community property, and Neek keeps disappearing to talk on the phone. Neek takes off early, and Carlo stays with us girls til about 6a.m. He give me a peck me before he leaves...He's heading straight to the airport from the club. Both boys are Italian but live in Belgium...Kiani and I end up leaving shortly thereafter,and find a little cafe called Temptacio, where we sit down and order a multitude of pastries, each pastry better than the next. The place was a bit overpriced, but probably the only place open at 6a.m. Everything in Ibiza was overpriced...Our shithole hotel cost over $100/night, and our mini bottles of Cava at Pacha cost 20 euros a piece!!!<br />
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After our tummies were full, we decided to check out the beach. On our way, we came across a boy and a his shirtless friend. The shirtless friend was sitting on the ground. London boys, Jake, and the shirtless one, Ahmad. They both proclaimed their love for American girls and joined us on our beach hunt. We found a small stretch of beach in Talamanca...I think this was after Ahmad had ripped off Jakes's All Saints T-shirt and shredded it into little pieces. Jake grabbed Ahmad's button down shirt out of Ahmad's hands and threw it up into a nearby tree. The tree wasn't very tall, so Ahmad was able to retrieve it. Jake ripped the shirt out of Ahmad's hands again and threw it up into a really tall tree. Ahmad's shirt is probably still up in that tree to this very day.<br />
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Ahmad told us all we should go for a swim, and all of us tell him to jump in first. He jumps in and then gets down on all fours in the sand. We have a hard time getting a cab because Ahmad is covered in beach grime. The first cab driver we came across merely shook his head and drove away. The second cabbie, a female this time, got irritated with Ahmad's harassment. He had basically started to offer 60 euros for a ride...the third cab agreed to take us back to Sant Antonio for 60 euros, but none of the boys had any cash, so once we got to Ahmad's hostal, he had to run upstairs and grab cash. He took awhile, and i ended up paying about 30 euros, the fare on the meter.<br />
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Our cab driver looked really irritated and was starting to drive away when Ahmad comes running up, with 60 euros in hand. The disgruntled driver had already taken off. We all go up to Jake's hotel room and wake up both of his roommates, and eventually we get kicked out by a very angry hostal worker who even threatened to call the police. We go to Ahmad's hostal and wake up his two roommates and then head to their hotel pool. Around noon, Kiani and I excuse ourselves to rest up.<br />
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We meet back up with Ahmad later that night, and head to Lineker's to pre-party. Trying to find a cab to Amnesia was out of control. The cue for a taxi would've taken an hour, at least, An illegal cab driver approached us, and we ended up cramming 5 people into a tiny jeep. The driver lived in Ibiza and was trying to make some extra cash. He also asked if we were interested in party supplies: Ketamine, Cocaine, etc..</div>
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AMNESIA</div>
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As soon as we get to Amnesia, we look for a secluded spot to do the drugs, but don't manage to find one, so we go inside. The club is obviously very greedy, and has over sold tickets. It was impossible to move around once we got in. We were all in one group at one point, and then it was just me and Matt. Matt held my hand and led me through the mass of people. I almost started hyperventilating at one point, it was so hot, and there was literally a mosh pit of people around me. Matt made sure I was ok the entire time. We eventually found the other 3, and danced as best we could, but we were packed in like sardines in a can. Kiani wanted Molly and Matt said he'd go look for some if I would give him a kiss. He went out looking for awhile, but came back empty handed. I kissed him anyway, and after lots of inappropriate dancing, we decided to leave the club. The taxi cue outside the club was ridiculous (surprise!) but we found another illegal cab driver. He didn't seem to know where he was going and I thought he was going to chop us into little pieces.<br />
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When we finally got to the vicinity of my hotel, I discovered that it was my mistake. I had told the driver Sant Antonio Bay, but my hostal was actually in The West End. Oops. The receptionist would not let Matt come up to my hotel room because he wasn't a registered guest. Matt finally ended up paying 20 euros to spend the night. We woke to Kiani and Ahmad staring down at us like specimens under a microscope...We hadn't locked the door and they had walked right in! Matt and Ahmad left and I thought I would never see Matt again, as Kiani and I were Paris-bound later in the day. Ahmad texted Kiani that Matt wanted to see me again and they came to get us at La Cantina, where we were eating mediocre Thai food. Matt and I hung out one last time...I texted him the day after Kiani and I landed in Paris, but he never responded. He could've given me a wrong number, for all I knw. I'll never know. I found out from Ahmad that Matt's knee had swollen up and he was in the hospital in Ibiza. Haven't heard from him since...<br />
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2 days in Ibiza was more than enough and we were definitely partied the fuck out...<br />
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Ibiza Airport</div>
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Pacha</div>
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Amnesia</div>
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Sant Antonio</div>
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Our tix</div>
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Amy L.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02106727197348682906noreply@blogger.com0Ibiza, Balearic Islands, Spain38.9067339 1.420598299999937838.9067339 1.4205982999999378 38.9067339 1.4205982999999378