You’re the rabbit; we’re the hat. Live your own prestige. Experience something extraordinary. Disappear from the normal everyday. Reappear in the splendor here. Discover our secrets. It’s your turn. Our logo is a pinwheel.
That is not a random poem. Taken individually, each line represents a possible slogan for the Pueblos Mágicos (Magic Towns) in Mexico. This was an initiative started in 2001 by the country’s board of tourism to enchant certain towns. Or something to that effect. Is it a clever branding scheme to elicit extra money and dump it into otherwise ho-hum economies? Perhaps. But there’s actually some value there.
While the program has designated 121 Pueblos Mágicos scattered across Mexico, not every one is a home run. Obviously. I’m looking at you Jalpan de Serra. [Never been there.] However, there is a list of criteria a town must meet in order to qualify for the elite club. For starters, each village needs to have some sort of historical significance or folklore. Additionally, it must offer either important festivals, traditions, handcrafts, cuisine, art, or nature element. Per the ever-important numbers aspect, each place must have a population of at least 5,000, host more than 20,000 tourists each weekend, and be less than a 3 hour drive from a “well-resourced” city.
Before doing any research, I thought I had visited 4. That number is accurate but for different reasons than I initially understood. Teotihuacan is part of the group, which added an unexpected +1 in the “been there” column, but I had a -1 for something else.
San Miguel de Allende
It had my vote for the best PM so far, but was actually removed from the list in 2008 because it became an UNESCO World Heritage site. Still, it’s a rad place so it deserves some praise.
Centered around La Parroquia, an epic cathedral, the town square and surrounding streets feature an array of oranges, accented by building walls and items for sale in various shops. Flower crowns have surpassed the declaration of novelty accessory, though they continue to enhance the style of the ladies wearing them.
By far the most impressive attributes of the city are the 120+ art galleries and 160+ restaurants/cantinas — basically between every crack in the cobblestones. You can walk down a seemingly pointless path to end up admiring a slew of sculptures or paintings. Even though it’s possible to thoroughly traverse the main downtown area in a few hours, you’ll need a few days to scratch the surface of the dining and art gazing opportunities. There might even be a minute gallery under your pillow if you look close enough.
Each street provides a warm vibe that encourages wandering. Things will come to you as well. After Michelle and I enjoyed the elevated scenic view, we were enveloped by a mariachi wedding procession. It was a partying parade, complete with donkey and mojigangas (larger than life, paper mache versions of the bride and groom). I guess we could have pretended we belonged and followed them to the reception. Next time.
That might be the only negative (or positive depending on how you look at it). People are aware of San Miguel’s grandeur so I imagine the crowds are stifling during peak times. I recently saw an acquaintance from high school got married there. Also, it’s apparently a John Mayer concert destination. That one was a little confusing. Regardless of the popularity, it’s a must see.
Cholula
Next, in order of visitation. It was just a few days before Christmas, but plenty warm enough for a t-shirt. Once more, the main focus was a church. Santuario de la Virgen de los Remedios is perched atop a hill as well as a pyramid, somehow hidden from Spanish conquerors, if memory serves. Facts I wish I knew when I was there: it is the largest known pyramid that exists today. Yet it was hidden from invaders? Well played, you guys.
One spectacular thing about the cathedral is the view of the surrounding area, including Popocatépetl, the active volcano nearby. Of course, the pictures advertised were epic and showcased both in breathtaking fashion. It required a drone. There was disappointment.
Just below Our Lady of Remedies was an artisan market and a square of cafes and street vendors. Two different ceremonies were happening simultaneously. I think one was some kind of Aztec sacrifice. I’m not even sure how to describe it. There was a fire, massive feathered headdresses, and a circle of white-cloaked swordsmen. I kept a safe distance amidst my curiosity.
The other was the dance of the flyers. It’s a ritual that was created to ask the ancient Gods to end droughts. I have a feeling nowadays it is performed strictly as a money maker, but it was still cool to watch. Four people climbed a 100ft pole and then jumped off the top, spinning and dancing as they returned to the ground. Their costumes kind of looked like acrobatic pirates if that does anything for you.
Atlixco
Again, it was just before Christmas and it was night time. The key attraction was the Illuminated Village. Think of a tacky lights tour, concentrated mostly in one avenue but with a sliver more taste. I don’t know how many bulbs were used in total. We can just call it a fuck ton. What I do know is that the streets were shoulder to shoulder.
There were various sections of the town that had slightly unique decorations, primarily to keep the attention of smaller kids. There was a stretch that gave me the spirit for a very brief 5 seconds before 12 drunk people dominated everything.
The highlight: 2 cool staircases.
I think it’s a pass from me, unfortunately. But perhaps it is better during non-holiday times.
Tepoztlan
Our most recent trip brought us to the birthplace of the feathered serpent. Legend says that the people worshipped the Gods of wind, rain, and pulque until they stopped responding. The village elders went to consult the mountain and decided it was time to exchange those Gods for the Christian one. The moment they converted to Catholicism.
I guess.
There is a steep, 1.25 mile trail leading to a clifftop where an Aztec pyramid remains. Michelle and I had every intention of making the hour and half climb up to catch that view. The thing is, it was so damn hot the day we went. Plus, it was the middle of the day. So, you know…that plan transformed into street mojitos.
It gave us time to comb through the extensive tianguis, which was basically the entire town? I mean, the market hugged both sides of practically every street. For sure, the rustic vendor stands complimented the mountain backdrop quite well.
Contrary to the YouTube travel vlogs we watched before the trip, the vibe of the town was exceptional. It’s definitely small and wouldn’t require more than 1 or 2 nights to explore to your heart’s content, but worth a go. The mixture of history, handcrafts, and nature makes for a satisfying excursion.
So, at a measly 3% completion rate, I have a decent task of creating a respectable record of Pueblos Mágicos visits. At least now I know what to look out for. And though it’s far from comprehensive, now you have an idea as well.
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.
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.
A big ole bag of dirty laundry. That’s basically what I was for the 3 weeks I spent in Düsseldorf. I mean, I took showers. Mostly. But I did next to nothing apart from feed a pseudo-annoying cat that had more of a weird jungle growl than a meow.
It was my first experience using Trusted Housesitters as a travel tool. It’s definitely handy to find free accommodation, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. For those of you interested in using it yourselves for upcoming trips or petsitting needs, here’s a referral link.
I almost totally forgot that I took a super quick 2-day trip to Munich to PA on an Audi shoot with my friend Nick and our old company. I honestly can’t believe it worked out even though it more resembled whiplash than a chance for buddies to catch up. But, I’ll absolutely take what I can get. Amazing to see a familiar face.
Transition back to Düsseldorf and me punishing some Netflix. I’m simultaneously embarrassed and impressed at my sustained stamina for those marathons.
The Dorf was a semi small city but I’m sure I still skipped a decent amount. I did develop a nice rhythm of grocery shopping in Aldi every 3rd day. After one trip, I was able to get out of there without anyone knowing I wasn’t German, largely thanks to Apple Pay.
In terms of productive activities, I did take a walking tour of the downtown area. I visited a museum that was all about life in Düsseldorf during the Nazi regime. I also spent one night out drinking in the Altstadt which has a street that’s been coined “the longest bar in the world.” There a few breweries known for their alt bier — you guessed it, a specialty of the region. Customarily, it’s served in a small cylindrical glass and they just automatically bring large trays around to replenish the empties unless they’re asked to stop. A local told me that 16-20 glasses was a proper night out. I didn’t get near that number but I also never properly tried.
Could it have been done? Possibly. Should it have been done? No. It wasn’t my favorite style of beer, so the cost-benefit analysis wasn’t lining up.
Aside from wandering around a few neighborhoods, I got invited to the Trivago Summer Party. It was an all-inclusive bash for employees but I lucked into a ticket through my Altstadt drinking buddy, Kamila. Free food and bev. What’s up?? They even had a cheese course. They also waited until 8pm to roll out the liquor, a smart scheduling method to ensure people didn’t get housed too early in the evening.
That basically sums up Düsseldorf. I’d be happy to go back, but I think other places might have more to pique the interest.
On my way out of town, while standing on the platform, my train got canceled 5 minutes after it was scheduled to depart. It didn’t take much to sort out a fix, but it was a bit complex without cell phone minutes or an internet connection.
Either way, I eventually boarded a 4 hour train bound for Hamburg – the biggest city in northern Germany and the 3rd biggest city in the world for musicals. Who knew?
On my first full day, I took another free walking tour. I will forever do this as an easy way to learn the layout, history and current recommendations for whatever city.
In addition to musicals, Hamburg is known for its port (so a lot of water and ships), the Reeperbahn (a street with bars and adult night life where The Beatles notably got their start), and maybe the anti-establishment philosophy of St. Pauli.
I primarily stayed outside of the city center, so I got very familiar with a particular walking loop. I passed the town hall square, the warehouse district and the harbor promenade on several occasions. I also went inside the newly renovated concert hall which cost almost a billion Euros but was free to enter. It had an insanely long escalator but a really nice wrap-around viewing deck of the water.
Another unique attraction was the old tile pedestrian tunnel that runs under the river. It’s something like 60 ft deep and 1,200 ft long. It seems like there’s always someone in there too.
One day, I stumbled onto the FC St. Pauli stadium. This is a team in the soccer world that’s had a very progressive reputation since they formed in 1910. I was really excited to get a tour and gobble up some more of that sweet foundation. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in German. I got a few seldom tidbits of private translation. Millerntor, the stadium, was named after a gate that separated that area of Germany from Denmark’s territory. Also, it’s fan owned, anti-fascist, and LGBTQ friendly. A slogan for the team translates to “No Man is Illegal,” which I love. Lastly, the teams walk out to “Hells Bells” by AC/DC (I’m pretty sure).
For an obligatory night out, I met up with a girl named Anne who took me around the Reeperbahn but to the more local dive bar spots. Miraculously, I avoided being harassed by a lady of the night or strip club promoter the whole time I was in Hamburg. Aces.
Overall, I got a very comfortable feeling from the HH. Once again, it’s a city with the right balance of nature, nightlife and artsy neighborhoods that could be a great spot to live. At some point, I’m going to have to put together a list of how all of these places are ranked.
It’s been almost a full year since I left Richmond. It’s safe to say I’m losing my sense of “home.” Maybe it’s been gone for a while or it’s adapted to a feeling of transience. The lack of consistent routine is an understatement. Not knowing what I’m doing from day to day is one thing — a lot of room for unlimited possibilities in there — but it’s also gotten a bit daunting to try and snatch plans out of thin air. Researching, exploration, decisiveness. I know it’s one of those privileged complaints. I’m not saying I’m over the journey because I still love it. However, I’ve definitely recognized that my momentum has come to a halt and the motivation to push the boulder back up the hill is a work in progress. It’ll be nice to either find a renewed purpose or erase the concept from my head all together.
After I spend a week in Berlin, I’ve got almost 2 months of Workaways lined up. I’m stoked about the prospects. It should be a solid kickstart.
When did we first get to Brussels? The end of May. Wow. Can’t believe it’s been that long already.
Andrew and I got off our bus and met up with a few people at the AirBnB where our group of 15 would call home for the weekend. It was a very eccentric place. There were a lot of mannequins and old time knickknacks everywhere. Interesting decor choices for sure.
Jud and his band mates arrived a few hours later. After a few beers at the apartment, we went out to find some food at Hip Square, a semi-central hangout place with a bunch of restaurants and bars surrounding Saint Catherine’s cathedral. It was a popular spot, with tables and people spilling out into the cobblestone area. As it was still light out until almost 11pm, we stayed there for a while before heading back.
A few of us hung out in the sketchy street catching up when the final group of festival goers arrived. Time went on and we eventually got chastised for making too much noise so we turned in.
The band were first to leave in the morning and then our clan of 9 got breakfast and caught the train out to Zottegam. We disembarked, and had a 30 minute trek through the small town. As we were walking, Erin and I ran into an older gentlemen who was curious where we were from. He was a resident who was sometimes a guest professor at UVA. It really is a small world. We continued down some neighborhood streets and dissected a few wheat fields before finally ending up at Dunk!Festival.
We had about 6 hours to spend between the main stage and the forest stage until Gifts From Enola played. It was a small festival but a pretty cosy setup. The band did an interview for the local radio station and then had fans coming up to them saying very complimentary things. One guy from Spain said they changed his life and got him into the entire post rock genre of music. A loyal follower since the MySpace days. Incredible on all accounts.
When it came time for them to play, it was epic. The sound was solid, the performance was great and the light show was ridiculously on point. Really good crowd turnout and support as well. I felt proud to know them. Unfortunately we had to hurry out to catch the last train back to Brussels without being able to congratulate the band. They were able to stay overnight and enjoy themselves.
DUNK!FEST ALBUM
The next day our group of misfits started with a Belgian waffle and had an impromptu tour of a few notable city sights — Grand Place and Manneken Pis to be specific. The little boy peeing is really little. He was dressed up for us though, which is something.
We hung out in a park until we were joined by Gifts. After a few hours chilling, we wandered back to Hip Square and split our time between a few different seafood restaurants and beer joints. Brown bars are a Belgian staple — kind of a dive bar, but known for their old wooden construction, dim light and smelly toilets. This wording comes from a city map, but I can verify. The insane thing is each beer was served in a specialized, branded glass for that particular beverage. At every bar. That’s dedication. And an 8.5% tripel was €3.80, which would’ve easily been $8 in the US. Sauce.
The following morning, the group separated into smaller factions and departed for different destinations. Andrew and I hung out with the band until the afternoon as they were the last to leave.
Once we said our goodbyes, we caught the metro down to the southwest part of the city and did a self-guided tour of Cantillon, a 100+ year old brewery using open air fermentation to make lambics. Read: more Belgian beer. Then we returned to the city center and walked around for a bit. We had some insane sandwich called a mitraillette for dinner (hamburger + fries on a baguette), a sweet waffle for dessert, and ended with a flaming absinthe shot at Delirium Village.
Andrew’s flight back to Richmond was the following afternoon — a sad departure. We had an awesome time clowning around. It would’ve been awesome to keep it rolling for another week. Or indefinitely. Whichever.
I spent the subsequent days catching up on some things and trying to arrange my future plans.
I was lucky to meet two generous girls, Amanda (a Canadian working in Belgium) and Aline (a Belgian, well, living in Belgium). Look at you helping me out, Tinder.
I hung out with Amanda a few times, mostly just working and chatting. We went out for a meal of signature Belgian dishes once. I had the Flemish stew, which was ballin. It also happened to be a place that served this beer where the recipe had been lost for 200 some years, so that was a bonus. She charged the entire dinner to her company as well. Extra bonus.
Aline and I met for a few beers one night and got late night frites. She very kindly welcomed me to couchsurf at her place for a few days, a helpful break for my travel finances. Very lucky situation. We watched some movies and the Women’s World Cup and snacked. One night, we went to watch a band at a microbrewery. Beer again. She was fun and open to hosting me longer, but her twin sister was returning from a year and a half abroad, so I thought they should have a chance to spend some time together.
This inspired me to take a 3 day trip to Ghent. It was a short train ride away. A very medieval, historical city that was active from the university there. I went on an evening walking tour my first night to get a bit of the backstory and significance of some landmarks. I learned that Ghent, through Charles V, was basically in control of almost all of Western Europe in the 1500s. Though a lot of the buildings were from that era, most of their facades had been refurbished sometime during the 20th century. Still, there was a castle, several cathedrals and an infamous bell tower which all looked outstanding.
The weather ended up being miserable for my last two days there, but I got a 48-hour city pass to grant me access to the cultural places. I visited two of the art museums, the design museum, the industry museum where they showcase the history of their textile and graphic design processes. I got a bird’s eye view of the city from the top of the Belfort and was able to scope The Mystic Lamb in St. Bavo Cathedral, which is the most stolen piece of art in the world. Unfortunately, I was a few minutes too late to enter the castle, and I missed out on the boat ride due to rain. I crammed a good amount of activities into the two days though. Definitely made the pass worth it.
Overall, my Belgian experience was largely a tour of beer, with a bit of music and culture sprinkled in. Bruges and Antwerp will have to wait until next time.
After Ghent, I went back to Amsterdam to stay with Joyce, who I met in Bali. I wasn’t exactly sure how long it was going to be but I was hoping to stretch it until the 25th of June. I ended up falling into another lucky situation. Through her amazing group of friends, I was hooked up with an apartment and a bike of my own for an entire week.
So, over the course of the 11 days, there was a lot of cycling, an after party with perfect vibes, a free canal cruise, a basketball tournament, a Couchsurfing meet up, and more general exploration. If this is the way my travels go for the next few months, I might have to quit while I’m ahead. Way ahead.
I’m trying to pinpoint what the universe is balancing out with this run of good fortune. There was that one scam in Bali. But I’m not sure if that was horrific enough to warrant this amount of positive action. Or, maybe it’s house money and I’m due for some bad luck in the future. I’m not going to be that pessimistic. I’ll just accept that things are working out for me right now and continue to ride the wave.
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’ve been on the road for over 6 months now. The way I’ve been traveling is a bit loose; more or less planning as I go so I’m free to be spontaneous if the opportunity arises. I’ve had plenty of amazing and unforgettable experiences to be sure. But, obviously not every day can be an epic adventure. I’ve found that usually after a really incredible week of jam-packed fun, the next few days come with a down turn — a lack of activities and sometimes lonely feelings creeping up. If I’m not sure what to do next, I end up rushing through the planning phase to try and get to the following amazing experience and either make some bad decisions or waste time being indecisive.
So, even though a trip like this should be stress free, I have felt some pressure to make every moment count. That also applies to managing all of this media. Photography, video, witty status updates. As mentioned, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity so I’ve has the mindset that anything left uncaptured is lost. It doesn’t seem totally healthy, or accurate. It’s not like the world is an attraction that’s closing next year (although maybe in the next 10 according to some climate change scientists). Sometimes it’s hard to accept that putting down the camera is ok. I’ve actually done this for almost a full month in Vietnam and nothing has crumbled to the ground…yet.
Anyway, I think the guilt — or shall I call it “drive” (to be more positive) — is innate within me. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I always feel the need to create. When I was back home, if I spent an afternoon watching Netflix there was a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I should be writing music. While on the road, I’ve tried my best to fill my “down time” with video or photo editing.
I’ve come across plenty of long-term travel blogs and forums discussing the importance of “rest”, which might be an infuriating term for those of you out there still going to work everyday. How do you need rest when you’re on what is an extended vacation? It does seem counterintuitive. I suppose taking a day to chill out and not worry about planning and logistics refreshes the mind and body. Maybe so.
For me, I’ve tried it out a few times. The main problem I encounter is that it disrupts the inertia. It’s exponentially harder for me to get the forward momentum back once I’ve taken my foot off the gas. The couch or bed swallows me. I have trouble fighting my way out. Searching for the next hilarious meme is substantially easier than getting outside and going for a run, amirite? Sigh. Stupid motivation.
In the grand scheme of things, what does this mean? I guess I’m realizing that some of our impulses can’t be rerouted. I thought that my brain chemistry might change its configuration a bit while traveling. Even though I’m learning a lot and processing a few large-scale thoughts, there’s two principles that remain constant: life will find a balance and I can’t escape my inner desire to make shit.
Legacy has been a subject I’ve been thinking about over the past two years or so. Maybe something that comes out of this trip will be mine. But if not, I have to figure out how to be ok with that. Because experiences aren’t erased even if there’s no tangible evidence.
I’m not even sure how long it’s been since my last post. Time has been flying by here in Halong Bay.
I took a local shuttle from Hanoi, where no one at the company spoke English. It worked out though. As we made the approach to my drop off point, we drove along the water and the plethora of limestone islands gave an impressive vibe.
I was the last one to get out and I felt a small sense of relief when I realized I was indeed at the right place. I walked inside the building and took the elevator up to the 15th.
After knocking on the door, I was greeted by Hiểu, who is the 15 year old son of my host, Quynh. He let me into the small yet tidy apartment and we chatted for a while about soccer and his other interests.
The view from the apartments balcony is epic by the way. The weather has mostly been overcast/rainy since I’ve been here but when it turns, the complete vista will be very epic.
Eventually, Quynh got home so we met and talked as she prepared dinner. It was a tasty meal of fish and rice, which we ate early because there were two English classes (that I was there to help teach) that startied soon.
Even though it was the first day I was there, I went to the classes for a short amount of time to introduce myself. The kids were excited for a foreign visitor and did their best to ask me questions and satisfy their curiosities.
That was a Thursday. On the way to get coffee on Saturday, Quynh said we were going to swing by the local English Center so I could have an interview with the director there. I didn’t really have any idea what this was about. After a very brief 15 minute meeting, of which I said maybe 5 sentences, I was signed up to teach additional English classes during the day in actual schools. It was a paying job which was unexpected, but also very quick. Baptism by fire. With no teaching certification and no experience commanding a classroom, I was set to have 4 classes per day between the center and the Workaway. Crazy. I taught two of the older classes by myself over the weekend in an effort to get up for the school gig.
Quynh took me on a special outing Sunday afternoon to see her home town and meet some of her family. Because we were still in the getting to know each other phase, and I was acclimating to the communication style, it was a unique experience. I came out of it wondering if it was an audition/initiation into the family that I was unaware of. Her brother had me repeat something he said in Vietnamese which I found out was “Do you want to be my son-in-law?” (because he was the patriarch of the family since the father passed away). We had dinner at one of her sisters’ houses where they gave me local whiskey and laughed at how little I ate. Finally, on the drive home, Quynh asked me if I wanted to be part of her big family. I said I could be an honorary member but she insisted I could only join by marriage. My heart paused beating before she said she was joking. But then mentioned she did have a lot of nieces.
Now, I think it was all an innocent thing. But before I knew her all that well, a decent part of me thought I was being courted.
Flash forward to Monday and I was thrown into the deep end by the English Center. I observed two public school kindergarten classes in the morning and was told I’d be teaching three of my own in the afternoon.
Let me reiterate my complete lack of teaching experience again. That combined with my…how should I say…slight aversion to young kids did not seem like it would produce a positive end result.
Also, my classes were all at Montessori schools which had syllabi. I had to create three lesson plans in two hours and make flashcards and such. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no concept of the games and songs the kids needed to stay entertained.
There was a last minute scramble to find everything I needed. In no way did that mean I was fully prepared though. I ended up running to the school to make it on time. When I got there, I was told there was a mistake and I was meant to go to a different class…for which I didn’t have the required materials. Even younger kids. Fucked.
It was a full blown disaster. Keeping the attention of a class that young for an hour is a near impossible feat. I have a new level of appreciation for pre-k and kindergarten teachers. I ran out of things to do after 20 minutes. I sweat through my button down shirt, and somehow my pants. It was a full blown disaster.
I can’t remember the last time I felt as uncomfortable and out of my element as I did that first day of “official” teaching. Thankfully there was a godsend of a TA in my 0-3yr old class that helped me along as best she could. But it was still rough.
My last class of the day went better but still miles below average. It was just 40 minutes. Still, I staggered over the finish line like an exhausted Iron Man competitor. Yikes.
Since that first day, things have gotten mildly better. I still don’t feel like I’m doing a good job, but I’m wearing an under shirt now so it’s harder to notice my sweatiness. And I’ve found a few different activities that help me stretch time. I‘ve also developed a good rapport with my night class students. They’re going well because it’s a chill and informal format.
The downside is I’ve had practically no free time to explore because I’m planning in the morning, teaching in the afternoon, eating dinner, and then teaching in the evening. And the grubby little buggers got me sick for the first time this trip.
I’m sure there will come a time when I settle into a rhythm and don’t have to take as much time to plan but it hasn’t happened yet.
The good news, is that my brother was here over the weekend. The weather left something to be desired, but we got to spend a day romping around Halong Bay and even won some money at the casino. Then we went to Hanoi and explored some sights and food. It was great to see a familiar face and pal around.
Before he arrived, he asked me about the bar scene and for once in my life I didn’t know how to respond. I’ve only had one real night out and it was down the block to a very local place where a friend of Quynh’s kept making me chug bia hoi (the fresh, unfiltered beer). She was hammered.
Maybe next post I’ll have more juiciness to report. For right now, it’s mostly flashcards and unruly toddlers with a light reprieve of conversations with Quynh/Hiểu and a visit from family. I’ll take it.
