If you ask me to pick my favorite memory from my adventure through Europe, I would stare at you as if defective. I was there for almost 6 months. That period of time exists in my mind as a blurred frenzy of history, Flixbus, walking tours, water, Oktoberfest, and, strangely (but deliciously) kebabs. Add them all together and I think I had a relatively well-balanced tour of customs and shenanigans.
The amount of Europe I traversed would maybe cover approximately one third of the US. But within that space, each country basically has their own distinct language and culture. I spent the majority of my days between The Netherlands, Germany, and Poland — I’ll expand a bit on those.
The Dutch lead a very free spirit existence, obviously, but it’s not just because they’re high everyday. They like to go about life in an uncomplicated way. Plus, they’re fit because of all the biking they do. In additional to the ample cycle paths, the canals also create a beautiful layout to the city. Each street seems to have a unique character based on either the length, width, or bridges that surround the water.
There’s more nature to enjoy in the many parks scattered throughout. Lying in a green space soaking up the sun is a super chill way to spend an afternoon. Obligatory mention of weed again. If art is more your speed, you’ll be spoiled for choice in terms of museums; you can visit Rijks, Van Gogh, and Rembrandt. I was in a period of adjusting to the Euro so I didn’t partake myself, which is an unfortunate fact of life. It just means there’s a plethora of fresh activities waiting for me when I return. Amsterdam tops my list of cities I would most like to live if I ever move to Europe.
With all of that being said, I found the German culture the easiest to acclimate to. Even though you can find more structure and efficiency in the mundane — the checkout line in the grocery store for example — the charms of the cities and neighborhoods reminded me more of home. I settled into a routine there quite quickly. It was comfortable to hang out in the “alternative” areas of St. Paul in Hamburg or Kreuzberg in Berlin. The street murals and dive bars were a welcome reflection of the artistic vibe I’m used to.
Maybe my affinity for beer is to blame, but to me, one of the best features is the ability to drink publicly in open spaces while enjoying the company of friends. The beer prices are pretty absurd too. I mean, you can get a .5L can for around €.30 and recycle it for a €.25 refund. So…you’re just about breaking even. It was a different story at Oktoberfest, however, where a stein was almost €13. For more on that drunken carnival, you can read this post.
Onto Polska, the land of gołąbki and pierogi. The history of this place is a vicious rollercoaster of invasion, brief independence, and occupation once again. Thus, resilience is a common characteristic of the people. I’ll add resourcefulness and tenacity to the mix as well. I’m pretty sure every Polish grandmother has a hardy exterior with a compassionate interior. One thing is for sure: they want you to be well-fed. I volunteered at a language camp in the countryside for a week and the 3 ladies in the kitchen were constantly plopping an extra portion on my plate. I tried to convince them I was a little fat with a complete absence of muscle but, you know, the language barrier and such.
On top of teaching English to the intelligent and charismatic youth of the country, I also worked at a hostel for a month in Krakow.
What a city.
I have trouble expressing the feeling of walking among the cobbled streets and stone walls of the old town. Suffice to say I was excited to just meander. It was like wandering through history with the amenities of the future. I don’t think you can find that combination anywhere in the U.S. Krakow might seem like kind of a hipster pick of European cities to visit, but it’s starting to make some lists. I can’t help but recommend it as well.
Another very on-the-grid tourist hot spot I visited was Prague. It has been widely discussed as a popular destination for good reason. Besides the architecture and vibe, which parallel Krakow somewhat, there are various unique attractions. I found the bridges and Prague castle mesmerizing. Six hours of exploring and taking pictures evaporated in a flash there.
The same can be said for Zadar and Split, a pair of Croatian coastal towns on the Adriatic Sea. The old forums and slender network of streets in the historic centers boasted a Romanic feel. And romantic. I’ll say it. Unfortunately, I was a little late for sailing season, but sunsets from shore were still absolute perfection.
Even though the sun has now set (for now) on my expedition through the Old Continent, I think my favorite memory is that I have so many to reminisce on: the weight of my backpack changing as I took out my camera; the way a group of fellow hostel-stayers assembled to enjoy a night out; the realization that I was standing atop historical significance; the subtle burn on my forehead as the sun reflected off the water; the atmosphere of a specific location that swept me away. This period of my life will always be marked by the liberation and influence of these experiences. That is the essence of travel.
By the Numbers
Days in Europe: 169 Countries Visited: 7 Cities Visited: 15 Days at Workaways: 58 Days Housesitting: 17 Social Network Meetups: 9 Euros Spent: ~€4476.02 USD Spent: ~$5016.70
Here’s the map of things I did in Germany, as it was the most extensive: (click the top left button of the map to expand the list view)
Favorite Cities: 1. Amsterdam 2. Krakow 3. Prague 4. Ghent 5. Berlin 6. Split 7. Hamburg 8. Brussels 9. Zagreb 10. Sarajevo
Favorite Attractions: 1. Oktoberfest, Munich 2. Brown Bars of Brussels 3. Main Square, Krakow 4. Prague Castle, Prague 5. Vondelpark, Amsterdam 6. The Metronome, Prague 7. Old Town, Mostar 8. Plitvice Lakes, Croatia 9. East Side Gallery, Berlin 10. Elbphilharmonie, Hamburg
It’s a 1980s song where the lyrics are often mistaken. It’s a 2010s film I’ve never seen. In 2019, I did my own rocking in Morocco. The first time I’d set foot on African soil. Will it be the last? Keep reading.
My friend Jud and I decided that we wanted to link up and explore the wonders of this North African country. I’d heard friends rave about it. Contrarily, while in Europe, I’d heard incredibly poor reviews. Still, it seemed like it was worth taking the chance.
I landed in Marrakech about 3 days ahead of Jud, so I had a chance to familiarize myself with the customs and surroundings. As with many, if not all, of the poorer countries in the world, cash is king. When I arrived, I planned to get some in the airport. I retrieved my bag and noticed just about everyone exchanging money at a single, very central currency counter. I searched for an ATM without any luck and decided to follow suit with the rest of the crowd. FYI – brutal conversion and service fees. There are plenty of cash machines in the city, which I’m sure charge far less per withdrawal. Since my goal was to take a local bus into downtown, I needed it right away, unfortunately.
That plan was a somewhat wild ordeal. No surprise, even in early November, Morocco is hot. I walked about 15 minutes in the baking sun to the bus stop. I was trusting Google Maps even though it had a warning about uncertain schedules. The warning was accurate. I waited there for what seemed like over an hour. Many, many other buses came and went. Just when I was going to surrender for a taxi, the L20 arrived. I was without question the only white person on board. I ignored and/or smiled politely to the onslaught of stares.
A mere 30 minutes later, I was dropped off outside the southern wall of the medina. That’s what a “kasbah” (“casbah” in English) is by the way — an old city or fortress.
I walked among the cramped, often dead-end streets before I found my hostel for the next few nights. The check-in process was interesting as there was no formal reception and no one to greet me for several minutes. That being said, there was a cool vibe with 3 floors surrounding an open-air courtyard with rooftop hangout areas as well. The 2 proprietors took time to sit down and chat with me about life as well as some pointers about the main attractions.
After a shower to wash the 20+ hours of travel off, I did a cursory walk around the main square. It was a blistering cacophony of…just about everything.
Motorbikes weaving around cars that barely had enough space to traverse the streets.
Mosques.
Walls within walls.
Snake charmers.
Juice vendors.
Handcraft stalls and pushy shirt-sellers.
Plenty of barber shops.
And let’s not forget shawarma.
I was mainly prepared for orange facades and the mix of French and Arabic culture. It was a lot more than that. I grabbed some food from a small eatery and headed back to the hostel to digest this first impression.
There wasn’t enough time to take a 2-3 day excursion out into the Sahara, so I booked a day trip to the Ourika Valley instead. The itinerary was super appealing on paper, so I had decent expectations. It promised a visit to a Berber village, a look at how Argan oil and handcrafts are made, as well as a trek to a waterfall and a camel ride.
It was mostly a let down. Everything was a crowded tourist trap, nature walk included. The camel ride especially was disappointing. The boys were lasso’d to one another, and it was just a 10-15 minute walk next to a main road. The village built into the mountain was sweet to gaze at from afar, but I’m not sure it was enough to save the day. Still, it was $45 USD (including tip for the guide) so at least it was affordable.
That basically brings us to Jud’s arrival. Our Moroccan adventure was essentially split into four parts based on where we spent our time.
MARRAKECH (PT. II)
Jud was more or less my sugar daddy on this trip — covering the AirBnBs and some other transportation costs.
We met up at the first accommodation in the north medina, which was somewhat difficult to find even with a map and specific instructions. Thank the lord for their very specific blue front door.
Even though he had been traveling for 20+ hrs with no sleep, we decided to go for a wander. I was familiar with some of the souks and the main square but that’s about it.
After some time weaving through the maze, we were approached by a “friend” who “just wanted to practice his English.” Many of the vendors and street goers are aggressive in getting your attention. It wasn’t a surprise. But this guy implanted himself into our walk, since “his house was the same way we were going.” Once he brought up taking us to a tannery, I knew it was a scam. An elaborate one.
The thing is, a tannery at its peak definitely looks worth a visit. I’ve seen some enticing photos, this dude even showed us one. The reality was not the same.
I tried explaining what would happen to Jud since I was almost wrapped up in the same scam a few days before. I thought we would arrive and be able to leave at the entrance. Our guy was in the midst of handing us off to his pal, the friendly tannery tour guide, when I asked how much it would cost. “Don’t worry about price,” he said (as if it was a dumb question). Jud and the guide continued ahead as I walked dejected, 30ft behind. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.
The place was in absolute shambles. It was apparently the last day of its operation for the next while. But we “had to see it” because “the Berber people are down from the mountains” and “only for today.”
The shallow pools used to color animal hides, normally filled with a beautiful array of bright tones, were completely brown and smelly. The dredges of mud and pigeon shit used to seal the stain. It was abysmal.
A 5 minute spiel ended and we were shepherded to a shop that sold the completed goods. Yet another handoff, this time to a salesperson. After we clearly weren’t interested in buying anything they let us leave. The first two guys magically appeared a few steps away from the shop and asked us to pay them for their services. An argument ensued from my end since I was never told the price. It wasn’t a good look, but I was careful not to be taken advantage of. Since Jud is a stand up guy, he paid them something to leave us alone.
Be warned: if you’re ever in Marrakech, don’t accept a tannery tour from anyone other than an agency or your accommodation.
On our walk back to the AirBnB we had to fend off another guy pining for money for trying to show us the way even though we didn’t need him and he didn’t know where he was going. That left me with a sour impression of Marrakech. I mean, I guess you can’t blame them for trying to make money, but honesty when prompted is kind of the decent thing to do.
The next day we made our own tour of some main attractions. First we visited a very disappointing tomb. It was a 40 minute line to see an intricately tiled room for a handful of seconds. Then, we went to a place called Bahia Palace which was built in the 19th century by the head of government. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the main courtyard was surrounded by 12 rooms, used by his 24 concubines. An incredibly detailed place, with carved molding and ceramic designs aplenty. Afterward, we checked out the highly regarded Secret Garden. It was nicely manicured, though I couldn’t help but think that it was only championed because it was a refuge of greenery in the middle of the desert.
So 1 success out of 3 made for an unimpressive day out. However, we finished it off with a rooftop sunset, a liter of beer and some shawarma.
A mistake was made somewhere along the way in terms of street meats eaten because that night was the beginning of a few rough days for the butthole. Another lesson learned.
Personally, I was happy to bid farewell to the hectic ambush of Marrakech for something more relaxed. The following day, Jud and I boarded a bus bound for “the blue city.”
ESSOUIRA
We enjoyed a pleasant yet windy walk along the coast to reach the medina. There was significantly less people and a lot more open space. Our AirBnB host walked us up a few flights of narrow stairs to reach his flat. He showed us our room and the excellent rooftop eating area where we would later watch the sunset.
It was early evening, so we got a restaurant recommendation and took a casual stroll. The wind was bitter after the sun was too low to pierce the slender streets. Jud and I made a wildly unnecessary, in-person reservation considering we were the only people in the place for the first 20 minutes of our meal. A pair of girls (Dutch and American) were eventually seated with us and we chatted for over an hour. I was continually distracted by what was going on with my insides that I didn’t eat or contribute much.
We parted company somewhere in the chilly avenues of the old city and returned to our a accommodation. That night, I nearly oozed the bed, which I’m assuming is a brand new sentence. I roughed it through until morning and turned to a medicinal solution.
It was a low-key start to the day. Breakfast overlooking the sea, no big deal. Afterward we strolled around the port which was bustling with vendors and gulls hoping for fish scraps. We were walking along the top of the sea wall when a rogue wave crashed over the rocks, completely soaking Jud. It was possibly the most direct hit the ocean has ever made. Somehow, I was lucky and only got a little salt water mist on my camera.
Once Jud changed into dryer clothes, we explored more of the city streets and gates. We saw the 18th century cannons and people making handcrafts.
We roamed the beachside path outside the medina for quite a while. There were kitesurfers, ATVs, and camel rides happening even though it was largely deserted. I wondered how different the vibe would be if it was more lively. Perhaps the wind was a deterrent. Strong gales whipped us back from time to time, took my hat for a ride once, and created an invisible sheet of sand that peppered our faces. We took refuge on a tree-lined cafe patio to have lunch.
That evening, after soaking in the sunset, we tried a traditional Moroccan restaurant. It looked upscale based on the fancy table dressings and golden wall decor. However, the entrance was awkward considering basically everyone looked up from their dishes to stare at us. We had the good fortune of sitting side by side facing them, so that was fun. The food was solid though, so we left happy despite having spectators for every bite.
The remainder of the evening was uneventful. We woke up for another rooftop breakfast and then caught a bus back to Marrakech to snag a train to Casablanca.
CASABLANCA
It seemed like nobody had anything good to say about Casablanca. “It’s a very industrial place.” “There’s nothing interesting to do there.” “Meh.”
I guess we should have listened.
The AirBnB was super nice, with lovely hosts, but the city left something to be desired. It was the most sprawling, but the least interesting in terms of visuals. There were some newer buildings under construction, but no consistent theme.
Apologies for this unimaginative section. The absence of descriptive writing reflects the blandness of the location.
We made our own walking tour to look at the purported interesting architecture. An old post office and bank, several hotels, and then some more banks. It didn’t offer enough to get my camera out of the backpack. “Meh.”
Even the medina was dull. Maybe it was the path we took, but there seemed to be very few remnants of history and alluring sights. We followed a boring street for a while until we got to Rick’s Cafe. Again, my expectations were different from reality. It was sandwiched between two other buildings and had a security guard out front. It appeared rather new and lacked any sort of unique 1940s vibe. I mean, the design was inspired by the movie, but that was difficult to ascertain from the exterior. The interior probably did a better job but since we didn’t want to get gouged by steep beer prices we passed.
Instead, we made our way along the water to check out the world’s third biggest mosque — Hassan II — an ominous sight, with a low layer of fog hugging the building. The minaret is the second largest in the world, so that had no problem sticking out of the translucent white blanket. Unfortunately, we were there at a weird time so we missed out on taking a tour of the inside. It was still by far the most interesting attraction we saw on our journey around the city.
(As a caveat, we didn’t visit La Corniche, which is apparently the beachy area where “the golden youth” hangs out. The nightlife was supposed to be decent there, but I’ll have to give that a shot on another trip.)
RABAT
Since we were unimpressed with Casablanca, we spontaneously decided to take a day trip to Rabat, which was a short train ride up the coast. It turned into a very worthwhile audible because it was easily the coolest place we encountered across our entire Moroccan adventure.
The main city had a slightly modern European vibe in terms of the layout and architecture. We made our way through the medina quickly until we reached the kasbah nestled on the mouth of an inlet. Inside, there were beautiful alleys of white and blue houses from around the 12th century. It would have been an awesome place to get lost in for a few hours. However, some guy took us on an unwanted 20 minute tour, whisking us through the place before requesting a ridiculous amount of money. A 2 hour walking tour in any major European city has more information and costs a quarter of what this guy was trying to charge. It was the only downside to the entire excursion.
Once we left his company, we found a free art museum inside a gorgeous palace courtyard. Then, we took a jaunt by the water and had lunch on a nice cafe patio.
From there, we made a gigantic loop around the freshly constructed part of the city until we wound up back at the train station.
Rabat had the potential to be a great 2-3 day destination, if only we had known beforehand.
On our last day, we took a train back to Marrakech and then a taxi to the airport. Jud disappeared through security in the early afternoon but my flight didn’t depart until around 7am the next morning. I made a quick trip back into the city to spend the rest of my dirham on some decent Christmas gifts. I rearranged my luggage for another 20+ hours of travel and stayed up chatting with friends until I was able to go to my gate.
Due to the lack of sleep and new destination excitement, I left my laptop smushed between bins at the security checkpoint. Surprisingly, I didn’t panic when I noticed hours later.
Thanks to a random travel mate connection, I was able to get it recovered. It was a painful and expensive process receiving it in Mexico, but now it’s back in my possession. Hooray! I’m going to blame that ordeal for the tiny abyss between posts.
Next I’ll have a summary of Morocco as well as a big look at my European leg. Hopefully sooner than later. Stay tuned!
It’s the Croatian coastal term for “the art of doing nothing.” I got into it. I got used it to. I enjoyed the hell out of it.
Croatia was runner-up at the most recent World Cup, as all the football/soccer fans out there would know. For those unaware, maybe you’re familiar with Yacht Week and all the glorious sailing? Still no? How about the birth place of the cravat? Ok, surely you knew that many Games of Thrones scenes were filmed in Dubrovnik then? I knew about 3 of the 4. As a frequent cravat wearer, I had no clue about Games of Thrones, obviously. What even is that?
While I didn’t make it down to Dubrovnik to experience the majesty of the King’s Landing set, I visited 3 other major cities throughout the country.
ZAGREB
I started in the capital city of Zagreb, not far from the Slovenian border. As I was recovering from Oktoberfest, I laid low for a few days. I literally only left the hostel to find food. I was also catching up on some freelance work and overall life admin.
Eventually, I decided to go on the free walking tour to learn about my surroundings. This revealed two legends: one about the checkerboard design used on the flag (a chess victory over the Italian King) and the origin of the city’s name (a love story of a girl grabbing water for a military general). Let’s not forget the gem about the cravat either.
We entered through the stone gate, visited St. Mark’s church, and watched the traditional firing of the canon at noon. While there was no canon ball projectile, there was a legit sound of the blast. Incredibly loud and unexpected.
Another notable thing I did was visit The Museum if Broken Relationships, which was started by a former Croatian couple. It is what it sounds like: a collection of items and first-hand accounts that tell the story of breakups from all over the world. Some were humorous, some were tragic, and some were unquestioningly odd. Like the 27 year old scab that someone’s partner saved. Love really knows no bounds.
ZADAR
My next stop was a few hours due south to the coastal settlement of Zadar. While the old town was very compact, it can best be described by one of my favorite adjectives — cozy.
It was a collection of narrow pathways and alleys that created a maze. Think Venice without the canals. That’s actually an accurate example since it was under Venetian rule several times throughout history.
There was an ancient forum in the center of town, circa 48 BC, that was mostly in ruins. Still, there were plenty of churches and old stone buildings to be amazed by. In addition to the historical landmarks, there were also two modern installations by the water. One was a series of tubes and steps built out into the Adriatic Sea that made music based on the waves.
Just a few feet away was a big digital sun set into the ground. It played a light show to keep everyone entertained after the incredible sunset had finished. On that subject, Alfred Hitchcock is on record saying that Zadar has the most beautiful sunsets in the world. Thanks for the tip, man. I did partake in viewing my fair share. No complaints.
For a one day excursion, I took a trip out to Plitvice National Park to see some nature. I didn’t even consider that the autumn colors would be in full effect. It was a gorgeous day to soak in the vibrant array of greens and oranges. Walking next to calm, reflective lakes and intricately shaped waterfalls was a pleasant way to spend a few hours walking.
SPLIT
I kept the coastal vibes flowing by continuing my tour down to Split. This was a more popular destination for tourist as it’s bigger and more of a hub for cruise ships and various island hopping.
The old town here was larger and impressive, the main palace dating back to the 4th century before the Christians came and gave it an update in the 1300s.
There were still tight winding avenues to get lost in, but also bigger promenades to accommodate the influx of people during peak season.
Split was established on a peninsula that has a modest hill you can quickly hike to enjoy a panoramic view of the landscape. I was too late to catch the literal sun setting thanks to daylight savings throwing me off, but that didn’t take away from the spectacle. I saw orange bouncing off the inland mountain range that hugs the city. A soft gradient of yellow outlined the peaks and gradually transitioned to blue. Opposite that, layers of pink and purple hovered above the water and blanketed the islands. Noice.
This is where I embraced fjaka. I went to the beach and just existed for a while. The beaches here are beds of small stones. At first I was skeptical, but I must say it gets my vote above sand. I wasn’t toting 10,000 grains with me for days after I left. Sure, it was a bit less comfortable to lay on, but with a proper towel or blanket it’s all good. I thought I’d missed out on swimming since it was deep into fall. On the contrary. Plenty of locals were taking refreshing dips so I did as well. While the water was by no means warm, it was totally manageable in the Mediterranean sun. Clear and salty. The fish were curious but seemed fine sharing.
After the much appreciated relaxation and vitamin D top up, I made arrangements to travel to Bosnia & Herzegovina. I wasn’t really aware of it as an option months ago, but fellow backpackers had good things to say. Might as well.
A mind is like a parachute. It doesn’t work if it’s not open.
Frank Zappa
That was randomly pulled from the internet. Sounds good though.
Meat and potatoes. Pierogi. Sometimes cabbage when it’s wrapped around meat.
Ok, there’s a little more to the Polish cuisine than that, but it’s still very hearty, which is also a pretty good description of the people. Direct, organized and hard working. Over the month+ I spent in the country, I met a decent amount of natives. They all seemed highly motivated with busy schedules. Unless they were a żul — a homeless person that drinks in the park. I got called that one night, so that’s a nice look at the current trajectory of my life.
My introduction to Poland came via a moderate-sized city called Szczecin, two hours east of Berlin. Yes, it’s just as difficult to pronounce as it is to spell (a general rule of thumb you can apply to the entire language). In Szczecin, I joined up with the people involved in my week-long Workaway at an English language camp. Sascha, the coordinator, was from the US but living in Poland for the past 7 years and my fellow volunteers were from Australia, New Zealand, India, Hong Kong, and various parts of the UK. We were given an informal tour of the city, which gave us a chance to get to know each other a bit. The next day, we left for camp.
NativesWorld 2019 took place at a “palace” near a lake in a small village. There were a little over 30 kids, ranging from 10-17 years old. Our days consisted of one-on-one conversations, group meals, games/activities, and differing night entertainment. It was actually a lot more exhausting than it sounds. If the English-speaking volunteers were tired at the end of each day, I can’t imagine how the Polish kids felt. For the most part, they all had a solid grasp on the language and were excited to communicate about any random topic. It was fun getting to connect with the youngsters and the staff throughout the week. At the end of each day, the volunteers went down to the dock and chatted while the sun finished setting. That gave me an opportunity to “stitch up” one of my roommates, Tim, who was from New Zealand and taught me that term. I still don’t think I’m using it correctly. Anyway, once the week was over, the group of mentors had a very aggressive night out back in Szczecin, as if the 7 days of not drinking at camp was the longest drought we could endure. Good times.
In addition to the teaching responsibilities, I was also shooting photos and video as a freelance gig for Sascha. Freelance has been creeping up recently, which is a minor, but incredibly helpful income stream that replenishes my coffers to keep me traveling.
My next endeavor was a month-long Workaway at a very well-located hostel in Kraków. It was a 32-bed accommodation with a small but social kitchen and common room. The shifts were in super manageable 3-hour increments; either putting out breakfast, mid-day cleaning, or night watch. While I was there, there was at least 4 other Workawayers at a time. Since our work was low-key, we had plenty of time to hang around and chat about random topics. I got into a few one-sided, yet hilarious conversations with an intelligent mid-20s Scotsman named Jack. His smarts also helped us to 2 pub quiz victories, a valuable pathway to free beer and food.
Other than that, I kept a relatively chill profile over the month. There was a 24-hour convenient store directly under the hostel which made things a little too easy. I was based in the Old Town (Stare Miasto in Polish) so everything was in walking distance. Hence, most of my outings involved walking around and enjoying the city. And what a city. Kraków is the second biggest in Poland, but notably amazing because the medieval center has remained largely intact. There’s an impressive city gate, a castle on a river, a cloth trading hall and several cathedrals. On top of the old buildings, there’s also a ton of history in the Jewish quarter and areas surrounding the city, mainly because of the German takeover at the beginning of WWII. The Oskar Schindler Factory Museum (one of the best museums I’ve ever been to), gives a comprehensive account of the German occupation. As you move through the exhibits, it really takes you on a journey from 1939-1945.
The Auschwitz camps are also an hour’s drive away. The museum site tells the story of how the concentration and extermination camps were formed. You can walk into several buildings to see the confiscated belongings, cells of the first gassed prisoners, and most disturbingly, something like one ton of leftover human hair. If that doesn’t make you shudder, there is an abyss occupying the space where your heart should be. Next, you can go to Auschwitz II-Birkenau and be in awe of the sheer scale of the place. The expansive camp was home to 174 barracks and 4 crematoria. Trains brought people straight to the “death platform,” where approximately 80% were immediately sent to the gas chamber. I was there on a hot day where there is no cover of shade. I can only imagine how awful it was for the prisoners to have to work in those conditions, with such little water and food rations, and then have to sleep 4 to a tiny bed in a building of over 700. Not to mention the winter months, having to strip naked and wait outside the shower building for up to 5 hours. It’s astounding to imagine the level of evil required to put other humans through that.
On a lighter subject, there’s also a salt mine within a short public transit ride. Jack and I went one day to see the underground, unexpected amazement. We went on a 2 hour tour and only saw 1% of the mine. The thing must be absolutely massive. At our deepest point, we were over 400m (~1300ft) below the surface. There was a full blown cathedral in there as well. I didn’t lick the walls, but I did taste some random liquid runoff. In retrospect, that was probably the more risky maneuver.
Another memorable event was attending an experimental music festival in Katowice. I went with my friend Magda, who I’d been messaging for months before getting to Kraków. We didn’t know what “experimental” meant, so it was a toss up. Up until a few days before, I thought it was a day time thing in a field. Come to find out it started at 9pm and was mostly inside at a former industrial space. We had 3:15am bus tickets back, but were hoping it was going to be good enough to revise those arrangements. Indeed it was. On the whole, the music was electronic, sometimes a bit too house/trance, but that didn’t stop us from dancing for 5 hours straight. We eventually got back to Kraków at 8am.
One short week later and I was on another bus leaving the city. My time there was simultaneously fast and slow. I sort of got lulled into the idea that I didn’t have to rush through doing things because I had a whole month. Of course now that I look back on it, I could have accomplished more. How often is that my refrain? Just about always. Granted, I did a decent amount of freelance work during my down time at the hostel. The good news is, I tackled the top 3 things that were on my list. Everything after that can be considered a bonus.
Three nights in a row. Or should I say three mornings in a row?
Berlin is well known for its incredible club scene. I’ve heard from many people across my travels that Berlin’s nightlife is the best in Europe. There’s one particular spot, Berghain, that has a party from Friday night until Monday morning — yes, non stop — with a 3 hour long queue and a notorious bouncer named Sven who refuses entry to people that he doesn’t “see potential in.” It’s like that. Even with this insight, I could never be fully prepared for what I was about to experience.
I arrived on a Monday evening with a reservation for a few nights. I didn’t have to be in Poland for a week so I wanted to see what the vibe was before booking a ton of days.
The first night was quiet. Settling in.
I met two Kiwi girls in my hostel dorm and went on a walking tour with them on Tuesday morning. This was me essentially knocking out the tourist attractions quickly: the Brandenburg Gate, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Hitler’s Bunker (which is now fittingly a parking lot and place for dogs to shit), Checkpoint Charlie and a few other squares with either cathedrals or historical buildings. I went to the Museum Island without entering any of the museums, then I went to Alexanderplatz to find the rest of the tourists.
I got back to the hostel in the early evening. That’s when the party train started pulling away from the station.
The two Kiwis and I played some drinking games with a group of 3 Canadians. The night got away from us a bit as we took a field trip to a weird park that’s well known for people buying drugs. It was kind of a strange night, but I could tell there was fun to be had so I extended my room to make it a full week.
The following day was spent doing life admin I’m pretty sure. Then in the afternoon, things got going again. Several 2 for 1 Carlsbergs were involved. Eventually it came time to decide on a next move. The general consensus was going to a park to continue drinking beers. The two Kiwis had an alternate plan. They wanted to go to some “sex club” with a “creative” dress code. I had no idea what any of this meant. Though I was hesitant at first, I found myself throwing on my elephant pants from Thailand and an inside out tank top. I figured it would be a spectacle if nothing else.
As we were assembling outside, 3 new people spontaneously joined us. Kal (Singapore) had just arrived at the hostel and basically only had time to drop his bag off. Felipe (Brzil) and Jie (China) also gladly accepted the invitation for a night out.
The thing is, we had no idea what Kit Kat was about. I don’t think any of us took time to interpret what a “sex club” was. When we got to the location, we saw a small line of people waiting to get in. Most of them were dressed in leather. It was only a short wait before we were standing in front of an imposing female bouncer in a fetish-like get up. We were nearly turned away as the others looked a little too normal for the erotic/creative entry requirement. I went in not knowing if they would be following after me. As I finished paying the door fee and “coat-checking” my shirt and cell phone, I noticed them come through the door. Sweet.
And then…wow. It was indeed a spectacle. “Erotic” is an accurate word. I guess. But I think it short changes the situation. Throughout the various rooms of this club, you could easily find nudity, a toy station (with active whipping and mild electrocution), drugs being blatantly sold in the bathroom, a pool for skinny dipping, and various dark corners where people were unabashedly having sex. My entire group was blown away.
Not physically.
We met a girl from Korea named Robin who hung out with us the entire night. Felipe and Jie left after about two hours of dancing. The whole thing was a bit of a blur. What I do know is that I got back to my room at 8am in time to see off the two Kiwi girls who inspired the entire excursion. Apparently they left at 3:30am and went to a different club.
I’m curious if I’ll ever have an experience that shocking and entertaining ever again in my life. Insane.
Since I didn’t really go to bed until around 10:30am and it was completely light out and hot as hell on the 4th floor of this hostel, I only really slept for a couple of hours.
I went downstairs and wandered around the grocery store where nothing looked appetizing. I returned to the hostel and posted up on the patio beanbag chairs. Gradually, the group reconvened, with a few additions here and there. For hours, we did nothing but sit there and chat.
As was becoming tradition, there was a clarion call for evening plans. Even though we were mostly sober, it was time to hit the town again. The familiar 4 of myself, Kal, Felipe and Jie were joined by Robin and Hassan (India). Matrix was the first stop of the night as that was probably the most popular option by word of mouth. It was also the cheapest to get into.
And, there was probably a reason for that. I thought it pretty much sucked. There were 3 different rooms with different music but it was all such a generic and uninteresting vibe. Of course we were coming off a gnarly first foray into Berlin clubs, but this wouldn’t have even been good for Richmond. Hyperbolically harsh, maybe, but I’m going with it.
Somehow we managed to remain for a few hours. Our crew thinned out to just me, Kat and Robin. We decided to bounce over to another spot. We’d been told great things about another nearby place called Suicide Circus. At this point, I think it was 4am. We went and stood in a 30 minute queue before entering.
Once we got in, we realized it was a pride event, possibly to kick off the festivities for the weekend. The music situation was much better, which meant we trance-ally techno’d out for another couple of hours.
After we snapped out of it and/or were too tired to continue moving our feet, we stepped out into the daylight like vampires into the sun. Another 8am outing. Seemed like I always had 30,000 steps from all of the dancing. Hilarious.
Essentially repeat the new night routine that was now happening in the morning. Sleep for 2 hours. Zombie through the grocery store. Slump into a beanbag chair.
The Carlsbergs came out at some point in the afternoon, which was now rebranded “morning.” Brendan and Jayden (New Zealand) entered the fray. There ended up being a group of about 9 that joined forces to rule some Friday night activities. Where the energy was coming from, I have no idea.
Watergate was our primary destination — another club with a reputation for being selective. We received what I would characterize as a mild, but fair talking to before being allowed in by the bouncer. I think he let us in mostly because the real party hadn’t kicked off yet. Either way, we were in.
The set up was a medium-sized room on the main floor and a cozy dance floor on the ground level. The unique factor was that there was one wall of all glass behind the DJ so you could look out and see the illuminated city on the river. There was also a deck outside whenever it was time for a breather.
There were two particular DJs that crushed their sets and showered the crowd with silky vibes. While this was happening, around 5am, you could see the orange of the sunrise starting to crest over the buildings. It put.a smile in my heart and on my face. Euphoria. The ecstasy probably helped too.
A new DJ started at 7am and by that time, the group was fading. As we started to head out, people were filtering in to begin their after parties. Dear God, this is real life somewhere in the world, and it’s called Berlin.
Thus concludes the tale of clubbing three consecutive nights until 8am.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t feeling miserable. At least in my mind. Realistically, my physical state was probably something akin to a wet rag that’d been tossed into some dank corner to dry all wrinkled and crusty. Description bonus.
If you had to guess, what do you think I did the next day?
The correct answer would be beanbag main stay for like 10 hours. The most unfortunate thing was that Kal had forgotten to extend his room and didn’t have a bed. When we got back, he had to pack his stuff and check out. He didn’t get to sleep at all, which is devastating. I couldn’t even imagine. Berlin took it out of him so much that he ended up buying a plane ticket back to Singapore for the next morning.
Suddenly, it was just me and Felipe. He left early the following morning and then I was solo again. They days evaporated in a flash.
I felt it then and I feel it now — that lifestyle is not sustainable. Obviously. For all the incredible cultural movements and openness Berlin has, I couldn’t move there due to the fact that the nightlife would be an unrelenting siren. I think I know myself pretty well and my current assessment is that I wouldn’t be able to harness the proper amount of self-control needed to manage the weekends out. It’s just too enticing and captivating. Even writing this now is making me want to go back and explore all of the other clubs we didn’t get to. Dangerous.
By the way, that’s not all I did in Berlin. I managed to somehow fit in a walking tour about the Third Reich and another one about street art and counter culture. I learned a lot of facts about the SS and David Bowie that I’ve subsequently forgotten. Oops.
I spent my last day admiring the East Side Gallery and casually strolling around listening to music. I was in a totally content state, replaying the tornado of unbelievable moments while the tram lines and green domes of the city dotted my environment.
Toward the end of the day, a huge rain storm rolled in. A classic literary trope that washed everything away and presented me a clean slate for a new adventure. That week in Berlin won’t be so easily erased, though.
Somebody told me that Thailand was called “The Land of Smiles.” For the most part, it felt like that was only when people wanted something from me. I did encounter one smile in particular that was heart melting. I’m saving those details for the memoir though.
I suppose the smiles could still be a work in progress. Adult braces were popular. Same goes for nose jobs and fake boobs/gender modifications (ie ladyboys). I never had an in-depth conversation with a local about their take on that phenomenon. But the sex culture is so prevalent and open. I think Pattaya is the prostitution capital of the world. I was given a heads up to steer clear so am only able to speak anecdotally. I can, however, speak first hand to how Tinder was sort of categorized based on location.
Chiang Mai – Primarily girls working in massage parlors trying to get business.
Phuket – “Freelance” aka service girls.
Bangkok – Normal Tinder. Decent amount of matches that are pretty much dead ends.
On multiple occasions, I heard people mention so-and-so having a Thai girlfriend. Seemed like a common concept. I’m curious to get more insight on that and the ladyboy prevalence when I return.
Along with orthodontists and plastic surgeons, 7-11 owners are making a killing. I’m highly considering becoming a franchise member. It would be a guaranteed passive income. In some places, there are stores directly across the street from one another. This is not an exaggeration. It’s a surefire investment.
Other miscellaneous observations:
Umbrellas are for sunny days.
They cut with spoons.
Vendors are less pushy than other neighboring countries.
The public transportation system was pretty good.
Thailand is a very strange shape.
I wasn’t as nomadic across the country as I would have liked to be. And I didn’t have all that much time to thoroughly digest a place. I missed out on a lot of activities for sure so perhaps I’ll have a longer list the next time I visit.
One of Thailand’s unique attributes is that it provides diverse landscapes and attractions. From the mountains and canyons of the north to the tropical beaches in the south, you could spend time trekking with elephants or boating to a picturesque and private blue water haven.
Wherever you prefer, there’s sure to be a temple nearby. Gold-wrapped and ornate, the wats in Thailand offered a unique Buddha or structure to help differentiate them from one another. Faith was strong and on display everywhere, down to a cashier bowing with praying hands to every customer. That’s what makes the promiscuity and sultry experimentation such an intriguing contrast.
Perhaps my biggest indulgence during my time in Thailand was the food. I neglected to take a cooking class, but I partook in enough street food to make up for it. The depth of flavor was extremely inviting. Curry and Pad Thai options were addictive — this coming from a person who didn’t rate any Thai cuisine before traveling. Khao Soi is a must try if you ever find yourself in Chiang Mai.
A piece of hearsay I became privy to was that tourism seemed to be slowing down. I was there during low season (and don’t have another trip to compare it to), so I can’t offer an opinion on that. I will say that the people seemed to be more confident and audacious. Perhaps that could be attributed to more exposure with foreigners. The integration of western concepts was much more seamless here than any other Asian country I’ve visited. The prices reflected that as well. Whether or not that changes with a fluctuating tourism industry, only time will tell.
By the Numbers
Days in Thailand: 15 Planes, Trains, and Buses: 8 Islands Visited: 5 Massages: 2 Street Food Meals: 12 Temples Visited: Lost Count THB Spent: ~20,857.01 USD Spent: ~$662.74 (Conversion rate of 31.4709)
For those interested in visiting one day, here’s a list of where I went and how I ranked stuff: (click the top left button of the map to expand the list view)
Favorite Attractions: 1. The Grand Palace 2. Koh Phi Phi 3. Doi Suthep 4. The Marble Temple 5. Wat Chedi Luang 6. Wat Pho 7. Koh Khai Nai 8. Khaosan Road/Bangla Road 9. The Golden Mount 10. The Big Buddha (Phuket)
Lastly, below is my “best of” album. This country has a lot more to offer than what I captured but hopefully I’ll be back when I’m a bit more advanced in my photography skills.
I was in Thailand for two weeks and it’s been over two weeks since I’ve written anything about it, so here’s the most comprehensive play by play I can swing.
I took the #9 sleeper train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai to start. It’s a relatively new service, so the train was very clean and comfortable. I traveled 2nd class, which meant an air conditioned car with a bunk and privacy curtain. It made the 13 hour journey a breeze. Almost literally, because I was getting a little chilly from the AC — something that is rarely, if ever, said in this part of the world. There was an older Chinese gentleman that chatted me up in the morning before we arrived.
At 7am, we pulled into Chiang Mai. Since I couldn’t check into my room yet, I did a little bit of exploring. I was staying just outside of the old city — there is legitimately an ancient square perimeter wall delineating the city center.
Even though Chiang Mai is a popular destination in northern Thailand, there weren’t really any skyscrapers or a traditional downtown. On first glance, it was a comfy place. I saw some nice, modern apartments while walking down a few alleys. I quickly had the thought I could live there…without having seen any of the surrounding areas. I suppose it makes sense because I found out later that it’s the digital nomad capital of the world. I believe they’re mostly concentrated in another neighborhood that I ventured through a few days later.
That evening, I settled into my room and chatted with a few other travelers there. Me and Mike, a future digital nomad from Canada, went to a nearby night market that evening to try some stewed pork leg from “The Cowboy Hat Lady,” who has an infamous street food stall, possibly in part to Anthony Bourdain’sParts Unknown episode (RIP).
In the morning, I woke up early for a half-day visit to an elephant sanctuary that was over an hour drive outside the city. A group of 17 of us got to feed, trek, bathe and swim with 5 elephants, 3 of which were youngish. The place was ethical in that they never forced the elephants to do anything they didn’t want to do. The owner also explained that culturally, riding elephants isn’t really that inhumane (he compared it to a mosquito landing on a human’s arm), but in certain areas, the elephants are being worked 24 hours a day hauling lumber and whatever else. Putting them into a more natural habitat and allowing them to live at will is obviously a better situation though.
It was intimidating at first to be around such large and imposing animals. They wanted every banana immediately. Eventually when we were bathing and swimming with them, it was awesome. I was much less worried about being stepped on even though I couldn’t see where exactly they were under the water.
That evening, Mike and I took a trip to Doi Suthep which is a very prominent Buddhist temple up on a mountain. Our plan was to take some pictures and catch the sunset. Sadly, it was pretty overcast, but the temple had a lot of interesting nooks and crannies. There was also some kind of ceremonial dance going on that we weren’t expecting. A very unique happenstance.
When we got back into town, we ate some delectable Khao Soi, the region’s popular dish, consisting of chicken coconut curry and egg noodles. So rich and savory. I snagged this a few more times at various restaurants before I headed south.
We made the rounds for a while and then submitted to the heat. I made a tattoo appointment and got a massage before retreating inside.
The subsequent day, Mike and I set out to check out some of the temples within the old city. Temples on temples on temples. I don’t think it’s a fair argument to say once you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. There are a lot of similarities between the ones that I’ve visited, but there’s also usually something very unique to draw your attention. In Thailand, specifically, there’s always some kind of gold-wrapped structure in the middle that gives a really grand feeling.
That night Mike and I went to the Muay Thai fights at the local stadium. I didn’t feel great about it. There were 6 bouts and for the first 4, the fighters seemed like kids. The betting amongst the locals was an experience to witness. I didn’t risk my own money, but I saw a British guy find success a few times. At the end of the night, two guys/teens got KO’d and one kid maybe broke his arm. There was barely anybody there to spectate too.
For my last full day in Chiang Mai, I wandered around Nimmanhaemin (digital nomad area), ventured into their swanky shopping mall, and got a sak yant tattoo.
I was turned onto the concept by Kaitlin, who I met in Cambodia and toured Angkor Wat with. A sak yant is a magical Buddhist design that is blessed by a monk. There are many different designs with different meanings and required body placements, and there’s a set of rules that accompanies receiving one.
Originally, I wasn’t planning on getting any tattoos abroad, primarily so I could use that money on travel. But the way these tattoos are delivered was something I wouldn’t be able to get at home. Traditionally, a monk would use a bamboo rod and needle to apply the design by hand using a dotting method. This particular shop used stainless steel for sanitary reasons — a call that I appreciated. Apparently so did Angelina Jolie. I found out she got a few done at the same shop.
Anyway, the design I decided on means kindness, compassion, peace and love. The experience wasn’t as formal or ceremonial as I thought it would be but I’m still really happy I did it. The tattooing process was probably about 30 minutes. It felt about the same as a normal tattoo, in my opinion. The most impressive thing was the speed and precision. It’s definitely imperfect since it was done by hand, but that’s part of the charm and authenticity. I initially wanted a different design and placement but I’m stoked on what I received.
Following the fresh ink, I caught an amazing sunset from the hostels rooftop bar and prepared to catch an early flight in the morning.
For some reason, there are no direct flights from Chiang Mai to Phuket, so I spent practically a full day traveling down to one of the islands off the west coast of the country.
I was staying in Patong Beach which I found out was kind of a party town. Bangla Road was a shorter version of Backpacker Street in Saigon — an insane amount of people, bars, performers and vendors all turning out at night to create a crazy spectacle. This time, it included a more noticeable amount of ladyboys.
The hostel I was staying in was nice, but very quiet. Maybe 10 people staying there total. Since it wasn’t quite the social environment I was looking for, I hopped on Tinder to see what I could find. I ended up meeting two different girls the first night and it basically went downhill from there.
One of them took me on an impromptu visit to two popular sights on the island – the Big Buddha and Chalong Temple. Then I treated her to a bbq buffet to repay the kindness. That was an experience because it’s an all-you-can-eat situation that you have to cook at the table yourself. There was varying types of meat in containers everywhere, so I tried not to think about the sanitary standards as best I could.
We returned to Patong and talked on the beach for a while before calling it an evening. It was a really good afternoon/night. Like a silly goose, I rearranged my plans to extend my stay.
There wasn’t much in the immediate area, and I couldn’t spend time in the sun or water because of the new tattoo, so my activity options were limited. It was a consideration I ignored while following a good feeling.
A few days later, after nothing eventful, I did an islands tour so I could at least see some of what I failed to visit. It promised a ton of cool sounding stops and snorkeling, which was an ideal day.
The weather was a let down for the first time since I’d been south. It rained in the morning which made the snorkeling conditions disappointing. After a choppy as hell boat ride that nearly destroyed my balls, we got to Monkey Beach. Except there was no beach so it wasn’t really a stop. Another disappointment. When we arrived on Phi Phi, the sun finally came out. It was the lunch stop though, so there wasn’t really much time to do any sort of island exploring. I was distracted but trying to make friends with some of the younger Americans on the tour. Next we went to “Viking Cave.” There was an old shipwreck inside the cave except we didn’t stop or even really get close to it. Disappointment. After another extended boat ride, we went to Koh Khai Nai. It was a really small island dedicated for beach chilling. It was low season and still got overrun with tourists shortly after we got there. Also, every 6 seconds a vendor approached trying to sell some sort of beer, food or clothing. Overall, I was happy to get out on the water but expected a lot more from the tour. If i hadn’t gotten it for a third of the brochure price thanks to a Tinder match, I might’ve lost my shit.
The sunsets from Patong Beach were really a saving grace. I enjoyed a handful that helped me forget any worries and enjoy the ebbs and flows.
I got a ride to the airport in the morning from another Tinder match. Pretty lucky situation. She was an awesome chick that I will hopefully stay in touch with.
So, after some extreme peaks and valleys on Phuket, I made it to Bangkok. I caught a very convenient bus to my hostel and was open to anything. This hostel was also quiet and I was the only in my room for a while.
I got some Pad Thai off the street and walked around the notorious Khaosan Road area. Another place that really came alive at night.
The next day I was sort of aimlessly exploring some nearby attractions when I was told about a holiday/promotion that meant certain tuk tuk drivers were only charging 10 baht. I hopped in one and was taken around to 3 different sights. I soon found out the catch, which was that I had to spend at least 10 minutes inside a tailor for my driver to get a coupon for gas. I was able to practice my indecision and stalling tactics long enough to make that happen, as uncomfortable as it was. Kind of a weird scam for the tuk tuk drivers to be running, but ok.
Since anytime between 12-6pm is basically unbearable outside, I spent the afternoon in some air conditioning hoping that my body would stop sweating. Side note: I’m down 15lbs again.
That night, I ended up rendezvousing with Davide (Italian I hung out with in Kampot) and Tamara (girl I met on the islands tour) for some beers and a foray into the seedy “adult playground” known as Nana Plaza. As the sex culture is widely on display there, I had to go see first hand what it was about.
It was weird.
Nana Plaza was basically a 3-story shopping center (using shopping quite literally, the girls were wearing numbers) of strips clubs and bars. We found out that you could pay to be with any of the girls you saw at any club. On the way out we were offered a trip to see a ping pong/fuck show, so that’s something. Also, there was a guy that quoted a cheaper price for an evening with a lady of your choosing. Honestly, I would’ve liked to see the pong show just to say I’ve done it. But in reality, I’m sure it would’ve been utterly sad, with maybe a hint of impressive. Fine with it in the end.
The next day, Tamara and I met up to see The Grand Palace (absurdly grand), Wat Pho and China Town. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned that it’s mother effing hot here. The sun was scorching and neither of us really ate breakfast. We somehow made it to 4pm and then were demolished. We found some street food and then parted ways to die slowly in our own accommodations.
Eventually I went to get my first legit Thai massage. It was about $8 for 1hr of pain-adjacent body kneading. I left feeling worse than I came in, which I guess means that my normal is exceptionally wrong. I got a back, shoulder and neck one in the morning thinking it would be more relaxing.
No.
It left me feeling even worse so I don’t know what to think. Maybe just go Swedish all the way.
That pretty much wraps up all of my activities in Thailand. I looked around a few markets and such but nothing too noteworthy. My “In Summary” post will have more analysis on the important stuff so keep an eye out for that.
I’m not exactly sure what the right way is to sum up Cambodia. There were highs and lows as there always are, but this country felt different. Maybe it was because I started off doing something wildly sad on the first day. Really, I think it’s because they’re still on the cusp of figuring it out. It could have something to do with the large-scale adoption of western influences, all the way down to American currency. In my opinion, it would feel better if there was a stronger Cambodian personality, or at least a Khmer spin on the foreign aspects they choose to integrate.
There are some really good pieces, but the full puzzle isn’t quite there. Yet.
I found some great places to stay and some even better places to eat. But nearby there was bound to be mounds of dirt or piles of trash. Cleanliness can be chucked into the ‘in progress’ category. Geckos, roaches and rats were seen regularly. It’s something you have to put out of your mind when going to a restaurant. I’m not saying I need pristine surroundings (though the royal palace was a sight to see), but I could’ve avoided a few trips to the can in better circumstances. Although, you know, it wouldn’t be what it is without those elements. A few table ants and a mosquito bite during a meal does enhance the authenticity.
In addition to insect repellant, don’t forget your sunscreen if you’re visiting during the non-rainy months. And remember to budget for drinking water. To say it’s warm would be a massive understatement. Air con was a luxury; a fan was a minimum requirement. Again, part of the experience.
The cultural offerings were stunning to witness. From both sides of the table. The Khmer Rouge history is such an important part of the country’s identity, albeit cripplingly disheartening. Whether it’s recovery from that or general progress, they’re definitely building toward something. Once they get their transit system on track, I think growth will be exponential. I’d be interested to see the difference in 10 years.
As for the main standout, it has to be, unsurprisingly, Angkor Wat. You could easily spend a full week exploring the temples and still have so much left to see. Now, I don’t think a normal person would have the stamina to do it in that heat, but that’s beside the point. I’m having trouble coming up with more to say about it. The collection of structures and carved stone was so vast and impressive that I found myself meandering about. Much like this post.
I can’t finish without mentioning the Khmer people. So positive, so kind. I saw so many faces light up in response to a smile or “Hello.” Hostel staff treated guests like immediate friends. The attitude and character can not only be appreciated, but used as inspiration.
I hope they Seam Reap the benefits of happiness and prosperity. What a segue.
By the Numbers
Days in Cambodia: 13 Tours: 6 Bus Rides: 7 Tuk Tuk Rides: 8 Massages: 1 Temples Visited: Lost Count Angkor Beers: Lost Count KHR Spent: ~1,772,148.00 USD Spent: ~$443.04 (Conversion rate of 4,000)
For those interested in visiting one day, here’s a list of where I went and how I ranked stuff: (click the top left button of the map to expand the list view)
Lastly, below is my “best of” album. This country has a lot more to offer than what I captured but hopefully I’ll be back when I’m a bit more advanced in my photography skills.
The wind on my face as I stepped out of the airport was brisk. I was not expecting chilly weather in Vietnam, albeit I didn’t research what season it was. After 18 hours of overnight travel, with little sleep (even though I took advantage of two lounge visits in the epic Singapore airport), it felt necessary.
I caught a public bus to the city because it was the cheapest option. I was rolling the dice on navigating to my hostel without internet but it seemed like a good time for an adventure.
The Backpackers I reserved was in the Old Quarter of Hanoi. Walking the narrow streets at dusk was a treat. There was so much vibrancy in the hustle and bustle of the city. The roads were narrow without feeling claustrophobic. The colors illuminated silhouettes of passersby. I was obviously digging the vibe of the place.
The route to my accommodation was pretty easy so I found it in no time. I checked in without issue and quickly rid myself of all the bags. I made my way downstairs to figure out what the hell I was going to do in Hanoi and hopefully meet some people.
Success.
It was happy hour at the in-house bar which meant free beer “until it ran out.” While in line, I met a young German vagabond named Insa. In this case, as with the rest of my run-ins with the Deutsche, I was happy to make a new friend. We got a few rounds of free brews and then ventured off to find a tasty dinner.
We were spoiled for options in our location which added a few minutes to the decision-making process. Finally, we landed on a random hole in the wall that had some locals scattered about; that made it seem more promising. After we ordered way too much food, we were satisfied with our choice. Unsurprisingly, I had high expectations for Vietnamese cuisine and we were off to a good start.
Feeling stuffed, Insa and I headed back to the hostel to hang out. People were gathered outside so we acquired some beverages and joined. The rest of the night consisted of several trips to the adjacent convenient store to replenish our beer supply. There was also a person set up across the street selling beer for 5,000 dong aka incredibly cheap. It was a popular spot because of the price. I was told it was unfiltered beer and would make you shit a lot the more you drank. That didn’t stop me from having a couple. One guy in the group was pounding them, so if anything I figured there would be somebody worse off than me.
I literally just remembered that we also went to a bar around the corner at some point during the night. It was a really weird experience because when we got there many of the dudes were shirtless. There were also several people with balloons, inhaling the helium. I’m not sure if you call that “doing balloons” or what but it was happening. Apparently if you do it quick enough you can have a 15-30 second hallucination. Wouldn’t know. I didn’t partake in those shenanigans. We ripped a few songs on the dance floor before retiring for the evening.
Another free bonus the hostel offered was breakfast. Neither of the options were all that much grub but it got you to lunch alright.
After finishing my food, Insa surfaced just in time to catch the free walking tour of the city. The amenities just kept adding up for this place. Our guide was Vietnamese but he was so soft spoken that I couldn’t hear him from 5ft away so I figured it was a lost cause trying to listen to anything he was going to say.
I kept to the back of the group as we wound our way through a temple and some markets to Train St. We also quickly breezed through Dog St. — quite literally named from the fried dogs for sale. And I don’t mean like a fried hot dog. I mean an actual dog. I kid you not. There were several crispy canine skewers to choose from. It was upsetting. I think they were all the same breed.; looked like Santa’s Little Helper from The Simpsons — but like after being on a spit for just the right amount of time to look sort of appetizing. No one in the group was interested in trying them.
It took me a few minutes to get over what I thought was a ridiculous, manufactured stereotype. Turns out…shit.
Other stops on the tour consisted of a lake that had an island temple, a theatre where Insa and I bought tickets for a traditional water puppet show, and a boutique coffee shop where people tried the well-known egg coffee. I didn’t know that was a thing and was just a passenger as others drank their frothy concoction.
Everybody parted ways after that. Me and a group of 3 went to enjoy some more Vietnamese fare. Pho for the win. Cheap, delicious and a good sized portion.
With the rest of the afternoon at my disposal, I took a brief chill in the hostel’s lounge before heading back out into the city to explore some more.
My arrival in Hanoi somehow lined up with a peace summit involving Trump and Kim Jong Un. Very odd. They were amping up security and preparing certain areas to be closed off so that was interesting I guess. I mean, not really but whatever. Other travelers were stoked for some reason. I got caught behind a street closure the following night with a small group of guys as we were wandering around. I snapped some shots of the uniformed officers manning the barricades. US and North Korean flags were passed around for the bystanders to wave as the presidential motorcades went by. It was a lot of unnecessary hoopla for a few cars driving passed. And it also put me behind for the water puppet show.
I had to hustle back to the hostel to change and meet Insa. We had to rush to a nearby restaurant to snag dinner and it ended up being the best meal in Hanoi. Bun cha is some kind of delicious street food that I’ll be having more of soon.
We made it just in time for the start of the show. Describing it is somewhat difficult. There were medium-sized puppets in water being animated by long staffs while a few people in traditional garb played appropriate music and sang/voiced the narrative. It was all in Vietnamese, so it was a bit tough to follow the story. But there were a lot of fish and farmers so it seemed to be about the cycle of the harvest and what role nature plays in that. Maybe? I think the concept of a water puppet show in general was more interesting than the actual display itself but I’m still glad I went.
That was the last notable thing I did in Hanoi. Insa and I had a casual night walking the streets back to the accommodation.
A group of ridiculously loud girls woke everybody in our room up at 5:30am the next morning with their packing and giggling about the nights conquests. Somehow I fell back asleep and woke up to an empty room. I repacked my things and caught a local shuttle to Halong Bay where I’ll be stationed for the next month+ teaching English at a Workaway.
I’m excited at the prospect of settling somewhere for an extended period of time, getting to know the place and developing a routine. Based on my correspondence, my host and living situation are supposed to be pretty epic as well.
Vietnam is turning out to be a pretty righteous place. But I suppose that’s not much of a surprise.
I arrived in Lembar port at 6pm and the sun was beginning to set. Lombok seemed like a beautiful place. Somehow it had a more organized vibe than Bali but was still quite similar.
I arranged for a motorbike ride from the harbor to my accommodation in Mataram city. I wasn’t stoked to be on the back of a motorbike with my massive pack for almost an hour but it was the quickest and cheapest way.
I underestimated how strong your lower back muscles need to be to ride comfortably while supporting that much weight. It was a struggle. I kept trying to focus on the new scenery.
There were traditional streets with lanes, a more traditional traffic pattern, and many mosques lining the roads. Lombok was majority Muslim, in line with the rest of Indonesia. A few minutes into the ride, I heard parts of the evening prayer amplified through speakers as we passed by.
The trip to the hostel took longer than an hour because the guy didn’t know where he was going even though I was showing him directions. At long last, we pulled through an intersection with a McDonald’s on one side and a Pizza Hut on the other and parked at our destination.
Just by walking up to the reception desk, I astounded the staff there. The check-in counter was in the corner of an empty cafe so the employees weren’t doing anything. I mentioned that I had a reservation and threw the two guys for a loop. They had to call someone to ask how to process everything. This was a very curious first impression.
After being ushered back to my room, I had the sneaking suspicion that I was the only guest at the hostel. This was very quickly confirmed when they had to go get keys to unlock the door to the bathroom. So strange. Sure, it was low season, but based on the reviews for the place, I expected at least a few other travelers. The lack of patrons proved unfortunate because I was intending to meet people and create a group to do day trips. That was a little tough without other people.
While walking around Mataram, I got the feeling that I was the only tourist in the entire city. It seemed like every pair of eyes followed me wherever I went. I never came across another white person the whole time I was there.
One of the sights nearby was the Islamic Center NTB. It was a large mosque with beautiful colors and intricate symmetry in its design. There were certain parts in disrepair from the earthquake that occurred in 2018. I went to have a look around and admire the architecture. Clue #10 that I didn’t belong: I was stopped by 3 different groups who asked to take photos with me. As in, people wanted me — this random white dude — to be in a photo with them. I obliged. Now I’m the butt of a joke on a few teenagers IG accounts. Why not?
I had to wait out a short rain storm under the mosque’s sheltered paths before heading over to the fancy new shopping center that everybody was excited about. Once again, I was a walking mythological creature based on peoples’ reactions of me perusing the corridors of this mall.
When I returned back to my hostel, there was a live band playing to no one. It was a Friday night, so customary to have entertainment I guess. I had to walk through the empty cafe passed the band to get to my room. Awkward. I’ve been there, guys. Trust me. They played for another hour or two before calling it a night. The ghosts must’ve been happy.
The place gave me a peculiar feeling. Not because of the ghosts — that was a joke. I didn’t necessarily feel unwelcome, but I definitely felt like I was there at the wrong time. I decided not to linger and continue on with my travels the next day.
I took another hour long ride up to Bangsal harbor in the north part of the island. Since I was flying by the seat of my pants a little bit, I was again unprepared for bargaining and paid a bit too much for a boat over to Gili Air and an open ticket that would take me back to mainland Bali. I didn’t feel good about the situation immediately after handing over my money. This would play a significant role later on.
Similar to the Nusa islands I’d visited previously, the 3 Gili islands off the northwest coast of Lombok are a popular destination for most travelers that visit the area. Gili Air has a reputation for being a good spot to relax and unwind, Gili Trawagan is known for its party scene and Gili Meno is the quietest of the group (even though it’s geographically in the middle).
The islands are all small with little infrastructure, disregarding the damage the earthquake has also done to them. The only methods of transportation are bicycle and horse-drawn buggy. As an aside, I felt really bad for the horses because when they were inactive they would just stare at the ground and not move. I always thought they needed more water.
On Gili Air, I hopped off my boat and took a 10 minute walk to my next hostel. I was crossing my fingers there were more people there, even though I knew it would be a chill vibe.
Captain Coconuts was tucked away on a cozy street, slightly inland on the western part of the island. I was greeted by a lot of bamboo and thatched roofing. The staff was very friendly at check in and as I was taken back to my room, I didn’t see another person. There was no one in my dorm room yet again. It would be a solitary few days, I thought.
The bright side was the uniqueness of the accommodation. The room was under a roof but in the open air and the beds were suspended from the ceiling with mosquito nets for protection at night. The pool was in the middle of the property, surrounded by large, custom wooden lounge chairs and some pillows strewn about.
During my days, I did a decent amount of exploring the island. The path next to the beach was lined with bars that all had comfy seating nestled up to the water, perfect for eating dinner and watching the sunset. From what I could tell, that and swimming were the two main activities to occupy one’s time.
I caught two lovely sunsets while there and relaxed from my…already unstressful lifestyle as a vagabond.
Two days of being low key felt sufficient. It was time to move onto Gili T. I wasn’t in search of a party, but something a little more active would be alright.
I could feel the liveliness immediately when I arrived. It was mainly the familiar feeling of being badgered by vendors and kiosk agents trying to sell bracelets and excursions. Moving past the hectic zone, there were more boutiques, restaurants and accommodations on the main drag. Once I was farther from that street, I noticed more rundown sites and less action overall. Not a surprise.
I used the Bali Backpackers Facebook group to find the hostel I reserved. People said it was a social place that could throw down if needed. Seemed like a good hedge. I checked in and was introduced to the promoter, Missy, a chick around my age from California. Later, I found out how sweet her arrangement was. She’s “working” there for two months in exchange for room and board. Her responsibilities are really to just hang out with guests, organize snorkel or similar day trips and make sure everyone is having a good time. Aka she gets to make new friends and drink “on the job.” Epic.
She folded me into the hip posse of travelers that had been staying there for a bit — a Canadian, 4 Norwegians, and 2 Germans. We did a lot of chatting in the early afternoon before organizing a trek over to a viewpoint to see the sunset. The trip was a bust because the viewpoint was just a small clearing mostly obscured by trees. It was burger night back at the hostel though, so we used it as an excuse to eat dinner.
Later in the evening, we went to watch a snorkel test. Apparently, when someone passes a dive certification (might specifically be for dive master) it’s tradition to chug a liter of alcohol through a snorkel. So that happened. Then there was a crazy storm with heavy rain and terrifying lightning. We got stuck in an expensive bar waiting for it to subside. From there, we did a little bit of relatively tame bar hopping before calling it a night.
In the morning, most of the group went on a snorkeling trip around the Gili islands. Two marquee stops I was excited about were the underwater statue sculpture and a site called turtle haven.
They did not disappoint. Most people say that the statue area is always teeming with people so it’s impossible to really enjoy it. We were lucky because there was practically nobody there. Maybe the previous nights rain kept people away or something. Whatever the reason, I was happy to scope it out in detail without getting whacked in the face by a million other flippers.
Turtle haven was sort of a mixed bag. There were a good amount of turtles there, but they were all sleeping on the bottom, which was probably 30ft down. Thankfully, there was one active turtle in a shallower area. It went up for air really close to me so I was able to get a decent look at it.
The last stop was called fish garden. Living up to its name, there was a continuous swarm of cool looking fish. At one point they were all up on me because that’s where the food was. Kind of sweet.
We had group lunch on Gili Air and then returned to the hostel. A rather solid few hours in the water.
My plan was to head back to Bali the following day, so I needed to sort out my boat reservation. I called the number that was on my receipt to confirm my ticket and got one of those recordings that the number was out of service. Not ideal. I went looking for the company’s office with Missy and after a rather long search found they were closed. Something I was going to have to sort out the day of, clearly. Ominous signs though.
With the rest of the afternoon at my disposal, I decided to do something I’d never done before. A trip within the trip. A sort of under the radar yet well-known thing to do on Gili T is to have a magic mushroom shake. It sounded interesting and I’m all about new experiences on this journey, so I decided to go for it.
It was more of a smoothie than a shake, really. Greenish. Looked like a drink that a health nut would frequently have. It tasted ok actually. Not quite on par with that Naked Green Machine juice or whatever, but not too far away. Imbibed; delighted.
Then it was a waiting game.
I sat in the main area of the hostel for a long time and had so many different conversations. It was mainly just a regular high, nothing too psychedelic. Hearing Norwegian spoken at a rapid pace was mind blowing. Outside of that, there were a few giggle fits which is par for the course. I wish I was better at documenting some of the quotes at the time to see if they were even remotely humorous now. My guess is not.
Missy and I couldn’t tell if we were hungry but we went with the group to dinner anyway. It was a good choice to change venues and keep the fun chat going.
By the time that was done and we were back at the hostel, I was more or less back to normal. We finished off the night with a few friendly rounds of cards and that was that.
The next morning I said my goodbyes and went to the boat office again with a hopeful attitude. The phone number still wasn’t working, but there wasn’t much I could do. The manager said a reservation wasn’t made for me, so nothing was official. The boat I was looking to take only left once a day too. It headed back to Bangsal harbor before going to Bali, so he said I could try to find the guy I bought the ticket from and sort it out quickly. I only had 10 minutes before it embarked though.
When we got to Bangsal, the dude was actually walking up to the boat so finding him was no issue. He complained about me not calling him even after I explained several times that the number he gave me didn’t work. He told me to wait somewhere and he would go get the money to make the arrangements. He just got out of sight before I realized that was stupid and should follow him. I didn’t find him, but he resurfaced a few minutes later and walked me back toward the dock. Again, he was complaining and stalling and making excuses. He said he would let me stay for free and take the boat tomorrow even though I had to leave on the one that day (I already made hostel reservations and it was too late to cancel). During the argument, I saw the boat push away from the wharf. Obviously. Once again, the dude told me he would give me a refund and told me to wait at a specific spot. This time he gave me his cell phone as collateral. It was a shitty ass Nokia brick. Nobody really needs that shit back.
As I was standing there, a few different guys came up asking me where I was trying to go and tried to empathize. They said that guy was a bad man and all this stuff. Of course they were quick to offer me a discounted ticket through their company because they liked me. “I’ll even take an extra 50,000 off if you give me the phone so I can sell it.” Shit like that. It was a clever ruse that I think everybody was in on. I was deep enough in that I would be buying another boat ticket either way. I was still trying to make my destination work while juggling under duress. My only solution was to get a boat to a completely different harbor and then pay for a car up to Amed. Eventually, I shelled out for a ticket for the next boat. At least I’d be back in Bali and away from this mess.
On the boat ride over, I was researching routes and costs for the ride to Amed. Paying for a car by myself was expensive. It wasn’t an option I was interested in. Taking a shuttle to another destination was cheaper, but I would still have to forfeit what I paid for my hostel reservation. Yada yada.
I bailed on Amed to return to Seminyak and be in a more developed area that I was familiar with. Plus, it’s more convenient to the airport when I fly out. It’s not a concession I’m thrilled about, but it made more financial sense to go this way.
Somewhat of a sour note to end on. I fell for an elaborate scam. It was layered and well-played. And it was bound to happen to me in Asia at some point. Hopefully I’ve gotten it out of the way early. At a minimum, it was a proper learning experience. Now I know what signs to look for, exactly what questions to ask, and what information to insist on before putting money down.
