Have Towel. Will Travel.

3 days in Singapore

2010-08-19T04:15:00.000-07:00

So me and Z-mama (now my "baby-mama") are on our BabyMoon. She had to work for the first week or so at the Inaugural Visa sponsored Youth Olympic Games, so I was let loose upon Singapore. Courtesy of her employer, we stayed at the magnificent (and historic) Fullerton Hotel, a transformed post-office with views over the water and the new Marina Bay Sands Hotel. Five star service, no matter how you're dressed! (I say this because I showed up with a ragged backpack, cargo pants and 4-day stubble and was still addressed with a polite "welcome mister, can we help you?").

Singapore is not a place to visit as a tourist. Ridiculously efficient, incredibly modern, completely under construction, the place is simply sterile. There's very little to do as a tourist beside eating and shopping. Sure, you can go visit Chinatown, but every Chinatown in the world is the same - shops selling LV knockoffs, cheap chopsticks, and those annoying chirping contraptions which I always wonder who buys them. And the Singapore shopping baffled my mind - Orchard road is a mecca to consumeratism with mall after mall after mall touting the same luxury brands, the same western stores, and the same tight, but sexy pants. Since I'm not a shopper, this part of Singapore completely bored me.

Luckily, I love to eat. And eat, I did. Singapore has incredible food - and not just tasty food, but a variety of food to try! On our first night, me and Z-mama (on the recommendation of a local), headed 20 mins out of downtown to the famed Longbeach restaurant. Longbeach does one thing, and one thing really, really well - crab. While I had been dying to try the famous Singapore Chili Crab, i was devasted to discover that the recipe called for copious amounts of fresh eggs. This, of course, would kill me. The waitress at Longbeach advised that the recipe without eggs was like a Mexican wedding without a Mariachi Band. So, as a consolation prize, we ordered the Black Pepper Crab and the Ginger/Scallion Crab. Wow!!! I can only imagine how good the Singapore Chili Crab must be.

The next day, we headed out to Little India, to be with our people. Singapore has a large, vibrant population of Indians who have comandeered a part of town to look, feel, and - sadly - smell, just like India. And that part of town is legendary for some of its food. Shaz' wife's sister works in Little India, so we headed out to find her. Side note - she's a spitting image of Shaz's wife. And, like Shaz' wife, she loves to eat. So she took us to the best indian joint in Singapore. There, we feasted on Fish Head Curry. Ok, I have to admit that I was extremely skeptical about a dish that revolves around fish heads (it conjures up memories of a bad 80s music video), but when Shaz's wife tells me I have to try something, I listen. That woman knows her food! And wow, was I surprised. The Fish Head Curry was INCREDIBLE! One of THE best indian dishes I've ever had. Picture a fish head, eye balls, teeth, grinning cheeks and all, staring you down, floating in a spicy, succulent broth of heaven... and that's fish head curry. We mopped every last bite. Yum.

Other highlights from Singapore:

1. me and Z-mama hit the hawker stands (Lau Pan Sat, I think it's called) - a bunch of small stalls each specializing in one dish, all assembled under one roof. Of course, we tried Singapore Chicken from two different stalls (yum), we also sampled Laksa (very fishy), as well as duck noodles (the duck was great, the noodles were filler).

2. I headed to see the new Marina Bay Sands Hotel. Highly recommend checking it out, if only for entertainment value. Reputed to have cost $4B (yes, billion), this hotel sitting on an island of landfill has 2400 rooms that have phenomenal views over the Singapore Skyline. The casino cost $100 if you're from Singapore. If you're not from there, be sure to bring your passport. Make sure you pay the $20 to go to the roof to check out the city views as well as the infinity pool. Yep, amazing.

Puerta Vallarta, Mexico

2009-12-25T20:54:00.000-08:00

While it probably doesn't really qualify as a "real" travel trip, Z-mama and I are now in Puerta Vallarta, Mexico - my first time ever to Mexico. Yes, I also scratched my head when I realized that I hadn't yet set foot south of the US border - not even Tijuana!

This touristy, beach town is hardly taxing. Everyone speaks English and the Gringos probably outnumber the locals. In fact, tonight we had dinner at Joe Jack's Fish Shack, which is owned and operated by the same guy who ran Luna Park and Supper Club, two San Francisco restaurants a stone's throw from the Noe House. So far, we have run into a number of US citizens as well as a large population of sun-drenched, leathery-skinned French Canadians. Funny enough, the enterprising locals haven't yet put poutine on the menu.

While many tourists end up staying at one of mega all-inclusive resorts, we opted instead to find a condo in the Old Town. We rented a delightful 1200 sq ft condo (which we found using www.vrbo.com) that sits at the top of a steep cobblestone road in the "romantic zone." We have local families as our neighbors and, today being Christmas, they were out in the streets in full force. A few had even hung up Santa Claus or Snowman Pinatas. One of our neighbors owns a powerful stereo system and he generously cranked up the mariachi music for the block, most of whom had started drinking Coronas by noon. Around 7pm they started to set off their fireworks and at 9pm they rolled out the ATVs.

The view from our outdoor balcony (which includes our own pool) is spectacular, and we expect to enjoy our morning coffee while admiring the ocean and the mountains. So far, so good.

Sundrenched Udaipur

2007-12-24T02:55:00.000-08:00

Udaipur is gorgeous. A white palace, prohibitively expensive beyond the means of the ordinary tourist, floats in the middle of a lake, surrounded by lush green hills. Luxury hotels cluster around the edge of the lake, promising romantic, roof-top views, perfect sunsets, and "Indian, Continental, and Chinese" food. And every roof-top boasts a 7:30pm screening of Octopussy, the Roger Moore 007 flick that was partly filmed here.

We have spent the past three days doing nothing but sitting and enjoying the beautiful scenery. We found a lakeside restaurant called Ambrai, where the food is better than average, the sunshine is plentiful, and the views are stunning.

We did visit the city palace, but, after having seen about 4 other Rajput palaces in the past two weeks, we decided not to go inside. An enterprising security guard tried to stop us before we could even get into the palace grounds.

"Yes, please?" he asked, motioning for tickets.
"Oh, we're just going to sit in the garden.
"Yes, no problem. 10 rupees each."
We looked around - no one else had been stopped.
"Is this 10 rupees for YOU or for the palace?" I asked.
He couldn't suppress a guilty smile.
"That what' s I thought," I said, as we pushed past him.

We are on our way to Mumbai in two hours.

Haggling in Jodhpur

2007-12-20T07:51:00.000-08:00

Haggling in India is very much about the "walk-away." Compared to haggling in China or South EastAsia, where it is very much about a softer discussion in which both parties try to save face, the Indian Haggle is in your face, involves a bit of raised voices, and, to get that last little bit, requires walking away. It is not, however, as involved as the middle-eastern haggle, in which both parties are expected to yell at each other and I will invariably be accused of being the "mother of a goat."

With Indian rickshaws, the routine is very much:
Rickshaw driver: "Where you go? Rickshaw?"
Me: "Sure, take me to the clock tower."
"Ok, ok, get in. No problem."
"How much?"
"Get in, get in, no problem."
"How much?"
(pause as he sizes me up)
"100 rupees."
"100 rupees??? No way. 25."
"No. Those people (pointing at a random rickshaw) pay 100."
"Ok" (walking away)
"Ok, no problem. Get in. 70 rupees. Last price!"
"No. 30 rupees. Let's go."
"No vay!" (I start walking away again)
"Ok, ok. Last last price. 40 rupees. Indian price!"
"30 rupees"
"Ok. 30 rupees. Get in, no problem."

On the other hand, haggling for larger sums is more involved. This morning, I negotiated a taxi for tomorrow from Jodphur to Udaipur with our hotel owner. We both sat down at a table, exchanged pleasantries, commented on the weather, and talked softly. After about 20 minutes of chatting, we got down to business and I knocked about 40% off his first asking price. I am still paying 10% more than market price (if I had gone directly to a taxi driver), but I wanted the security of going through a hotel and having accountability.

We spent a lazy day up in Jodhpur's fort. Even after seeing multiple forts, castles, palaces, and temples over the past10 days, this one still stood out. I would highly recommend it to anyone. The views are incredible, the fort is beautiful, and the audio guide (commissioned by the Maharaja himself) is extremely informative and helpful.

Fun with touts, scammers, and rickshaw drivers

2007-12-19T09:25:00.000-08:00

Jodhpur, the blue city, is the chilled-out sister to Jaipur. Dwarfed by a the massive Meherangarh fort that towers over the city, Jodhpur suffers from a light bout of pollution, traffic, and noise. However much she tries, though, she remains much more charming and relaxed than her sister to the east. That said, she has been suffering from problems with touts, corrupt rickshaw drivers, and scam artists, despite a recent police crackdown (that includes a large sign in front of the historic clock tower that says "do not listen to these bad boys who do DRUGS and PROSTITUTION TRAFFICKING along with stealing from tourists").

After a sleepless night on the train from Jaiselmer on which the LOUDEST snorer I have ever come across (he was worse than my boyhood friends, The Thugs) terrorized a full carriage, we arrived in Jodhpur, bleary-eyed and confused. We had been promised a train-station pickup by the guest-house owner, but we didn't find him. So, we walked to the guesthouse. There, at the bottom of the stairs, an unshaven man in a dirty cap claimed to be the manager.
"Guesthouse full, but I have your booking at my sister hotel. Come with me, I have ride waiting for you."
He was blocking our way up the stairs, suspiciously nervous.

"Yes, yes, come I have room for you at my hotel. No problem. I wait for you at train station, but you no come."

Although I almost fell for it, alarms were going off, so after a bit of interrogation, I squeezed past him, despite his best efforts to stop me from doing so. Sure enough, he was a scam-artist rickshaw driver, hoping to lure us into his cab and take us to another hotel where he could cash in on a commission.

Anyways, the guesthouse turned out to be disgustingly filthy, so, at 6am we called another one that had been well-recommended by other travelers.

"Do not take rickshaw here, or I will have to pay commission," the owner the Haveli Inn Pal implored. "Give me your name and I will come get you."

So, we stood on the side of the road, waiting for our ride to show up. Sure enough, within 5 minutes a rickshaw had pulled up. But I was wise to the game now. "Where you taking me?" I demanded the driver, who claimed to be there to pick me up.
"I take you to guesthouse!" he declared happily.
"Which one, which special one?"
"Oh of course I take you to special guesthouse. Come with me, quickly."
"Which special guesthouse?"
"Yes, yes, very special!"
"Please go away."
"No sir, I take you to special guesthouse. Trust me sir. Get in."

As we had this ridiculous, circular conversation, another rickshaw pulled up and a boy no older than 12 hopped out, bearing a sign with my name on it. Perfect.

The Haveli Inn Pal is a gorgeous guesthouse. It is right in the historic part of town, in a 250 year old mansion that dominates the square. The descendants of the original merchant owner still own it, but the two brothers are "having misunderstandings" so the mansion is now two separate, lavish guesthouses, in which each brother has tried to one up the other, while still competing on price. Good for us, bad for them.

This afternoon, we took a rickshaw to the modern, lavish Umaid Bhawan Palace, hoping for a drink. The corrupt driver was more focused on collecting some sort of commission, and tried twice to stop off at some "Tourist Emporiums" hoping that we would bite and go in and buy useless trinkets. Instead, I insisted we continue on to the palace. There, the foolish driver drove right by the open gate around the corner, where he parked in front of a locked side gate.
"Palace closed" he declared.
"What?"
"Look. Palace closed."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"No. Look. Closed. We go to restaurant Kashta? Very good. Very delicious." Obviously, this restaurant payed some delicious commissions.
"Bugger off. We'll get out here and take our chances."
"Oh. I wait for you here?"
"Bugger off."

We walked around the corner, through the front gate, and headed for the bar. Sadly, the bar had been booked out by a private party, but we did enjoy poking around the over-the-top hotel, where they claimed "It is minimum $50/person cover charge at the bar."

To top off the day, we dined at the ridiculously named "On the Rocks" restaurant (which boasts a bar called "Rocktails"). Despite the name, the food was delicious - we feasted on Seekh kebabs, Mutton kebabs (Z declared them some of the best "mishkaki" she has ever had), and channa massala. Yum.

Lovely Jaisalemer

2007-12-17T09:10:00.000-08:00

The last two days in Jaisalmer have been fantastic. Our stomachs cleared up (knock on wood), the clear desert air helped my asthma, and the hotel we are staying at is warm, friendly, and comfortable. I really like Jaisalmer. While its main industry is tourism, the high season has not yet started, so we have the place to ourselves. It's a small, walkable town whose main attraction is the massive fort that towers over the otherwise flat, featureless desert. The golden, sandstone fort encloses a warren of quiet, traffic-less alleys, where people and a large contingent of bovine still live and go about their daily routines.

We enjoyed the day getting lost in the maze, our biggest challenges squeezing past obstinate cows and avoiding their inevitable patties. We marveled at the intricately carved 600 year old Jain Temples, sat in the town square and watched the shopkeepers half-heartedly pester the few tourists that wandered by, and even found a real coffee. And then, we ate. The mutton curries here are delicious and Z, an ardent tandoori chicken fan, claims that yesterday's restaurant, Treo, had some of the best she has yet tasted in India!

But most of all, we enjoyed the peace and quiet. It must partly be due to the fact that we're out in the middle of nowhere, but what's amazing is that even though the main industry is tourism, with everyone competing for the same potential sale, people are surprisingly hassle-free.

"You buy from me, good for health!" one salesman shouted after me.
"Your health?" I laughed back.
"Of course my health! You want to buy?"

"Come spend your money here. We might even give you good deal" another shopowner yelled. "One thing for sure, we will be happy with your rupees!"

And yet, once I said no, they backed off. Overall, I'm a fan of Jaisalmer.

From Agra to Jaisalmer

2007-12-16T04:53:00.000-08:00

I stand corrected. What I've seen of India is filthier, noisier, and more dusty and polluted than any other place I've been. We hit rock bottom a couple of days ago in Agra, which is a poor, filthy city. There, I cursed however told me "December is the perfect time to go! The weather is beautiful!" Suffering from stomach sickness after some dodgy daal and shivering on the train platform in the miserably persistent early morning fog, we had to move after an old, homeless lady decided to squat 3 feet in front of us to answer the call of nature. 3 hours late, the train finally wheezed into the station, as the loudspeakers blared triumphantly "The Jaipur Express has now arrived."

But, that was rock bottom. We arrived to warm, sunny blue skies, a friendly hostel, and a change of scenery. Even though I was sick, I enjoyed Jaipur. Despite the constant hassle from touts and rickshaw drivers, who all wanted to either take me to their brother's textile store or take me on a full day tour of the city at an inflated price, I enjoyed Jaipur. The Amber Fort is quite different from Delhi's Red Fort - and in much better shape - and is worth a visit. It was fun exploring the maze of hidden rooms, imagining the Maharaja sneak from one wife to another to satisfy his carnal needs. The Maharaja was a randy, corpulent fellow, weighing in at 250kg, and keeping a harem of 108 mistresses and concumbines. Atta boy.

To get to Jaisalmer, we took advantage of India's corruption. There is only one night train to Jaisalmer (and no flights), and during high season, it is notoriously overbooked. The waitlist for bed in tourist class was at least 20 deep and there was no way I was going to sit for 12-15hrs in the cramped, filthy, and overcrowded, unreserved class. Luckily, our hotel owner had a "special tour agent" and he placed a call for me.

15 minutes later, a shifty-eyed fellow with a thick, greasy mustache and a pair of stained brown pants that were two inches too short showed up. He refused to look me in the eye and would not step foot in the hotel. "Weee eye pee serwice, sir" he promised. "Conpurmed bed on train, no problem!" Only catch - it was a 50% surcharge for the ticket, he wanted cash there and then, and would not give a receipt. The tickets would show up the next day, he promised.

Weighing my options, I paid the hefty $10/ticket "handling fee," and crossed my fingers. The tickets showed up as promised, but with handwritten seats scrawled on the tickets. Very shady. But, the good man was true to his word and when we boarded the Jaisalmer Express (which was only 2 hours late) two of the choicest bunks were waiting for us.

We are now 100km from the Pakistani border, in the wonderfully chilled-out town Jaisalmer. The first thing you notice is the 800 year old sandstone fort rising above the desert. The next thing you notice is the lack of hassle, the cleaner air, and the lack of honking. We will certainly enjoy the desert skies tonight!

Agra's jewel

2007-12-11T05:11:00.000-08:00

What a way to spend my birthday. I am still in a daze after having finally seen the Taj Mahal. Poets, singers, and professional travel writers have all tried to do it justice over the centuries - and failed - so I will not even try. All I can say is that no matter how many pictures you have seen, no matter how many movies it has appeared in, or how many times you've seen a plastic replica sitting on your uncle's coffee table, you will still, most probably, be amazed when you see if for the first time.

These moghuls sure knew how to build a good tomb. But you really have to pity poor Humayan. He built a superb tomb well before Shah Jehan started dreaming of the Taj Mahal, only to have Shah Jehan turn around and stick a couple of close replicas on the SIDES of the Taj Mahal, to make the centerpiece look even better!

Should you come to Agra, a few words of advice:

1. Don't bother to go into the fort if you've seen the one in Delhi. Apparently, it is a more ramshackle, rundown version of its red sister.
2. Go to the "Baby Taj" and go there BEFORE you hit the main attraction. The Baby Taj is actually quite beautiful and has very few tourists at it.
3. Get a rickshaw driver to take you across the river to see the back of the Taj Mahal. And when you get there, don't pay to go in the garden, just walk about 100m further and there's a beach where you can get perfect, unimpeded views of the Taj Mahal... with NO tourists in them!
4. Budget more time than you expected at the main attraction. It's stunning and it's huge. Go into the mosques on the side for some pictures that will be absent any tourists. It's a little known fact (apparently) that the Taj Mahal is perfectly symmetrical and no one bothers to go around the sides.
5. The place is crawling with Indian Tourists. And they're curious. And pushy. And quite happy to take pictures of foreigners, especially those that look just like them but wear very different clothing.

Yesterday, our last day in Delhi, was a lazy day. We spent the morning in a french coffee shop (Cafe Turtle in Khan market) enjoying delicious cappucinos with the other ex-pats, then headed to Connaught Place to wander around. We finally decided to escape the noise, pollution, and traffic by ducking into the Imperial Hotel, where we were greeted with a whiff of Jasmine flowers and a cold Kingfisher in their atrium. I made it through the first quarter of William Dalwinkle's City of Djinns, which I highly recommend.

We are off to the Amir villas (apparently Agra's best luxury resort) for a birthday toast.

Delhi - leave the comforts at home behind

2007-12-09T04:15:00.000-08:00

Advice for the new traveler to Delhi: see Humayan's tomb LAST.

Z and I decided to forgo our driver Ishor today, and took an auto-rickshaw instead. A much better idea, since the three-wheeled contraption was much more nimble than a car.

We headed to the Red Fort, a place the guidebooks promised to be a romantic monument of majesty and pomp. Compared to Humayan's tomb, it's a dump. Sure, it's a nice palace, but it's run-down, falling apart, and crowded. I'm sure good ol' Shah Jehan is turning in his grave at the thought of so many filthy commoners scampering through his Royal Quarters, peering at the most personal and private areas of his life.

We then headed to the famous Chandi Chok, a milling, teeming baazar. It was crowded, filthy, and claustrophobic, and I loved it. Ten minutes away, the famous Karim's restaurant awaits the weary traveler, with cheap, delicious kebabs, lamb chops, and tandoori delights. I dare say, Karim's lamb chops were tastier than those at my favorite Pakistani restaurant, Shalimar!

I am now in the "dangerous area" of Pahangarj, where I almost stayed but was dissuaded from staying by many of my colleagues who know Delhi well. Yes, it is dirty, noisy, and chaotic. But it is just like any other backpacker ghetto around the world. That said, I am quite happy with our guesthouse in South Delhi, except for the fact that it is 45 minutes (by cab) from anything!

Welcome to Delhi

2007-12-09T03:37:00.000-08:00

I had been dreading my arrival in Delhi. Everyone I spoke to had warned of the severe shock that India deals to the traveler, no matter how seasoned he may be. I was bracing myself for the worst and thus set myself up for a very soft landing. Sure, Delhi airport is an antiquated, inefficient and dilapidated dump, but it was far nicer than, say, Kathmandu International Airport, or Pnomn Penh's tin shack. Yes, there were some unsavory characters driving cabs, trying to overcharge us and take us to the wrong hotel, but we arrived at 3am so what should one expect? And true, the streets of Delhi are filthy, poverty-ridden, and chaotic, but they are no worse than the streets of Cairo, Nairobi, or Ho Chi Minh City.

And so, I am thoroughly enjoying myself. My fears were unfounded. Delhi is no worse (or better) than any other 3rd world developing metropolis. It is choked with traffic, pollution, and people. It is unfailingly democratic, as the newly (but carelessly) paved streets are navigated by suicidal rickshaw drivers, horse-pulled carts, brand-new, already dinged mercedes, and the inevitable sacred cow. And it has a wealth of historic monuments and delicious restaurants to explore and discover.

We arrived in Delhi after 27 hours of travel. Suffice to say, we were exhausted when we landed, and frustrated that our bags were the last to come out. However, that's so much better than having no bags at all! I was not surprised when the "deluxe airport pickup" my hotel had promised me was not there, and resigned myself to a pre-paid taxi ride. Our taxi (it was more of a tiny van) was commandeered by the maniacal Rajeev, who did not speak much english. Luckily, he had brought along his sidekick, Mujeet, who claimed to own 3 cabs and wanted to build a taxicab empire.

"Mister Ace," he began after establishing my name, "is this your wife, or your...?" he asked with a mischievious grin, staring at Z.
"My wife," I answered. Mujeet then proceeded to ignore Z for the next 40 minutes.
"Mister Ace," he continued after a short pause, "I have a girlfriend, but sadly, she is Muslim, while I am Hindu. Life is very caamplicated in Delhi for me."

And so it went that as Rajeev drove around in circles, looking for our hotel, that Mujeet practiced his english, tried to get to me commit to a driver for the next day (at twice the going rate), and told me of how difficult life is, while one tries to build an empire.

Yesterday, our first day in Delhi, was a busy one. Our driver, Ishor, was short, mustachioed man of few words. This, despite the fact we were promised a "fully fluent guiding driver." However, he was a very capable driver, with one hand on the horn, the other hand on the wheel, navigating the tight, fluid chaos of Delhi's rush-hour. We started at the Bahai interfaith temple, a beautiful lotus-shaped oasis of calm. Then, we proceeded to the Qutb Minar, a 73m high minaret that was built almost 900 years ago and is still standing. It must have been Field Trip Day, since the place was overrun with uniformed children from the provinces, all of whom stared slack-jawed at us. They could tell we are Indian, but couldn't figure out why we were dressed the way we were.

And then, we visited the sublime Humayan's Tomb. This monument to love was built by Humayan's widow. It preceded the more famous Taj Mahal and in fact many of the architectural innovations were duplicated in the Taj Mahal.

We met up with the Impeccably Dressed Indian (who, as you may remember, I had also met in China) at India Gate, a monument to India's victories. This Arc de Triomphe had a full 25 piece band playing patriotic sounds, much to a large crowd's delight.

To escape the noise, smells, and commotion, I took my Dear Uncle D's advice and headed for the Taj Palace Hotel. There, we enjoyed a lovely Kingfisher beer (Z had masala chai) in a calm oasis of opulence. The service was outstanding, especially in the bathroom, where two obsequious gentlemen jostled to open the door, turn on the faucet to the perfect temperature, squirt soap into my hands, and hand me thick towels, all while murmuring "sir please" under their breath. The next stop was the legendary Bukhara restaurant, where we feasted on lamb, tandoori chicken, and roasted black daal. Delicous!

And so, our first 15 hours in Delhi were wonderful and nothing like the shock I had expected. Z and I are safe, well-fed, and quite happy.

Headed to India Soon!

2007-11-29T13:56:00.000-08:00

Watch this page for updates starting next week!
My (new) wife and I are headed to Delhi, Agra, Rajasthan, and Mumbai.

Updating with Pictures

2006-11-08T00:04:00.000-08:00

Over the next few weeks, I will be adding pictures to my blog. I hope this adds some context and color to the stories. Updates start here.

My last trip to SE Asia

2006-11-06T18:56:00.000-08:00

In the summer of 2004, I experienced my first trip through Asia (after a stop in Morocco) - Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. It was a great introduction to a wonderful part of the world. Back then, I hadn't yet discovered how to blog, so I sent out periodical emails to family in friends. I have decided to post these emails.

They will show up for one or two days at the top of the blog, then I will move them into the archive, where you can find them under "2004."

Enjoy!

Back in San Francisco

2006-08-01T18:53:00.000-07:00

After enduring a 13hr flight on a dilapidated United Airlines 747, I'm finally back in San Francisco. The flight was horrible - the food was inedible, the staff was inept, and I didn't even get my own personal entertainment terminal, and United's cost-cutting measures meant that honest paying customers had to put up with a set of B movies. Thank god I was able to weasel my way into Economy Plus (which is only marginally better than Economy but has the benefit of additional leg-room).

I now have to deal with Real Life again. Find a place to live. Wear shoes and socks. Buy a car. Buy furniture. Shave often.

I did, however, thoroughly enjoy my first burrito at El Farolito (24th and Mission in SF).

For those of you who are headed to Hong Kong, here's a short list of restaurants that I recommend:

Spring Deer (Kowloon): Fantastic Roast Duck, Peking-style. It takes 35 minutes to prepare and you have to buy the whole bird. But it's absolutely worth it.

Yung Kee (Central): Known for its Roast Goose (which is delicious). The whole menu looks good, though.

Times Square Upstairs Food Court (Causeway Bay): It's a little strange to go out of your way to go for Dim Sum in a mall, but it is worth it. The Dim Sum here was sublime. There are four floors of fancy-pants restaurants to choose from.

Happy Garden Noodle & Congee Kitchen (Kowloon): For cheap, honest cantonese food, this is place to come. It was packed with chinese people slurping noodles and congee.

My tailor, Winston Co (Far East Mansion, Kowloon) was excellent and very reasonably priced. He now has my measurements and is willing to ship me made-to-measure cotton dress shirts for $33US. Why buy off the rack anymore?

Good times in Hong Kong

2006-07-30T01:43:00.000-07:00

I'm loving this city. Sure, you need money, but it's a hell of a lot of fun. Great food (I'm on the Roast Duck Diet - one plate of duck a day), beautiful women, and awesome lounges and clubs. I should have lived here instead of Lausanne!

Last night I convinced Korn to party until 6 in the morning. Actually, I tricked him into it. Sucka.

Hong Kong

2006-07-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

After a couple of days in Guangzhou (the New Jersey of China), where I met Korn, ate some good dim sum, and marvelled at how ugly the women are (and how bad their hair is), we left for Macau.

Macau gets a bad rap for having too many casinos and too many whores. I disagree with this assessment. We found a charming european city with pedestrian avenues, nice shops, gorgeous villas, and great mountain vistas. We also checked out a few of the casinos. The Chinese casinos (eg: the Lisboa) which the guidebooks promised were full of smoking, spitting degenerates, had cleaned up their act and were rather civilized. In fact, they were eerily quiet. The ultra-modern Sands felt more like Vegas what with the cheeseball cover band, rows of slot machines, and cocktail bar.

Hong Kong is great except for the fact that internet access is hard to come by. We're staying in the infamous Mirador Mansions (which are not anywhere near to being Mansions) in Kowloon. We've spent our days walking around, checking out good looking people, doing a bit of shopping (and tailoring), and a whole lot of eating. The two of us managed to polish off a whole Peking Duck. Delicious! The weather is horrible, probably due to the typhoon that's about to hit Taiwan.

Another Birthday Shout-Out

2006-07-28T21:13:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday to my little brother Poopie-Loopie!

May the following bring you prosperity, good health, plenty of hot women, fine food, and even a lucrative job!

Sleeper bus from hell

2006-07-22T01:58:00.000-07:00

At 9:48am this morning, I hit the low point of my 10 week trip. Exhausted, filthy, hungry, and suffering from an asthma attack after 16hrs on a sleeper bus, I had just been told by the fifth hotel in a row that they were fully booked. I slumped over in the middle of the road, let out a slow wail, then composed myself and followed plan B.

I walked into the middle of the pedestrian street, put away my guidebook and looked completely clueless. Sure enough, within 5 minutes, a tout had approached me, offering "sleeping room?" I was willing to pay anything to collapse on a bed. She took me to a chinese hotel and showed me the "deluxe double." Even in my addled, exhausted state, I managed to negotiate a 50% discount. I spent today passed out, recovering from the one of the worst bus rides of my life.

Yesterday afternoon, at the bus station, the sleeper bus seemed like a good idea. A couple of friendly post-doctorate chinese students also encouraged me, telling me that it was likely that the train would be sold out. I had heard about these sleeper buses - picture a bus filled with bunk beds, 36 beds in all, piled 2 high, and arranged 3 bunks wide. Again, I thought, what a great concept! Alas, I didn't figure on the beds being sized for the average asian. My legs were too long and the bunk was wide enough just for my body and arms if I lied on my back. Thus, for 16 hours, I was lying down, curled up in some form or another, hanging on for my dear life as the insane bus driver threw the bus into wild turns. He had put me in the absolute worst spot: the top bunk right in front. I was right over the wheel, so I felt every bone-jarring bump, and I was also swung from side to side as he went into turns. To make matters worse, the driver's buddy, who sat right underneath my bunk, kept chain-smoking, despite the prominent no-smoking signs. My attempts to get him to stop were in vain, so I suffered through an asthma attack and drippy nose. My sole consolation was that my used tissues kept falling on the rogue smoker. I arrived in Guangzhou (aka Canton), thoroughly exhausted, but glad to be off the bus from hell.

To console myself, I bought myself a $3 latte and I'm planning to take myself out for a nice dinner. GZ is known for its food. My buddy Korn arrives tomorrow so I'm looking forward to a week of Seinfeld references and silly jokes.

Why I'm looking forward to going home

2006-07-20T06:38:00.000-07:00

I've always found the last 2 weeks of travel to be the hardest since that's when the mind starts to prepare for going home.

With only 10 days to go, here's an (incomplete) list of things I'm looking forward to:

Not having to kill at least one thumb-sized cockroach a night
Not squatting
No more itching after receiving 20 consecutive mosquito bites on my ankles
Clean clothes, instead of clothes that smell of chinese tide after having been washed in the river
Not being drenched in sweat for 98% of the time
French cheese
No one yelling in my ear as they speak to someone else
Personal space
Drinking out of the tap
Knowing how much something really costs
No more very bizzare and outsized insects landing on me
My music collection
24 hour electricity
Cold, cold beer
Sleeping on a soft bed instead of a wooden plank with a thin lining
Hot water all the time, with real water pressure. And in a separate shower stall instead of having a nozzle over the toilet
A nice glass of wine
A big steak
A dry fart

Things I'm not looking forward to:

The morning commute
$3 coffees
Fox news
Missing travelling

Correction from last post

2006-07-20T06:35:00.000-07:00

Please forgive my horrible judgement from last night. The tour group was Belgian, not Dutch. They were speaking Flemish, which, at 5am, quite closely resembles Dutch.

This group has also been hit with the ugly stick. Poor guys.

Chengyang - Minority Villages, Rice Harvest, and Dutch Tourists

2006-07-19T19:27:00.000-07:00

For almost two blissful days, I have enjoyed the peace and relative tranquility of the villages around Chengyang. With a winding, gurgling river, gorgeous green hills, and colorful fields of rice and corn in the valley, this is a wonderful setting. The sun came out again and I enjoyed the remoteness of where I am. As I wandered from village to village, over covered rain-bridges and through muddy rice paddies, I marvelled at how few tourists actually come up here. It probably has something to do with the gruelling 8 hour trip on 3 different buses.

I watched the villagers harvest the rice. I had always wondered how they would do it. It was a team operation. One girl took off her boots and waded knee-deep into the muck. Another girl followed dutifully behind her. The first girl then cut off a fistful of rice stalks with a scythe and passed it to the second girl who threw it on the side of the road to dry. Then, a tiny little girl no older than 5 grabbed as much as she could and worked a beating machine that separated the grains from the stalk. Interesting.

I had heard that as you get further north in China, the people become less friendly. This is certainly true is this area, as fewer people returned my smiles and waves as I tramped curiously through their villages. I guess I look as out of place as a Chinese tourist in West Philadelphia.

In the afternoon, my illusion of being alone came crashing down, as I stumbled upon the "Chengyang Cultural Show." There, at least 20 other tourists watched the locals put on a music and dance show. But, it still beat the throngs of CPTs in Yangshuo.

I really enjoyed having the guesthouse to myself. That pleasure came to an end at 4:30am last night when a group of older Dutch tourists arrived. They were quite loud, storming around, yelling in their guttural language, making enough noise to wake up the village. I put up with it for around ten minutes and then opened my door.

"Excuse me," I said nicely, "it's almost 5am. Can you please keep it down? You're not the only ones here."

The group rewarded me with the same look a dog owner would give you if you asked him to scoop his dog's poop off your lawn.

But, alas, the din did not diminish.

I waited another 10 minutes, hoping they would retire to their rooms. Instead, they started some sort of song and there was some clapping. I was fuming.

I slammed open my door and stormed out. Raising my voice, I said "Look. I'm trying to sleep and you're all being extremely rude. IF you do not quiet down immediately, I will personally make sure you are all woken up at 7am and I will make your stay here a living hell. Do you or do you not want to enjoy your time here?"

I was fully prepared to set my alarm for 7am and sing "Old Macdonald has a farm" at the top of my lungs.

The group leader, a bulky, sour-faced woman who had probably yet to enjoy an admiring look from a man, gave me a dirty look. But, she said something to the group, and everyone dispersed.

Suffice to say, I was not a popular guy this morning.

Dragonback Rice Terrasses and the Middle of Nowhere

2006-07-18T06:44:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning, the Impeccably Dressed Indian and I aborted our plans to go up north of Yangshuo due to torrential rains. It was a brilliant decision and we spent the day sleeping in, eating pizzas, and lounging about. Some would say it was a wasted day, but we thoroughly enjoyed the down-time.

Yesterday, we left for Ping'an, which is 4 hours north of Yangshuo, in a lush, mountaineous range. Ping'an is a sleepy minority village whose star attractions are the rice terrasses around it. Over the past 700 years, the minorities have managed to carve out tiers of rice terrasses that cling to the sides of the hills and reach the top of each of the surrounding mountains. The visual effect is stunning, especially after hiking to the top of one of these peaks. From there, you look down upon waves upon waves of bright green, flooded rice paddies, which gracefully make their way down to the valley in a series of curved steps.

We were somewhat lucky with the weather, as we were given a three hour respite from the rains. During this time, we managed to hike out to the two major viewpoints and enjoy the views. Halfway there, we were drenched by a 20 minute deluge, but it let up enough for us to get back down to the village in time.

This morning, the Impeccably Dressed Indian left for HK and I kept going north. I am now in the Middle of Nowhere (a village called Chengyang). Here, there are a few guesthouses, one covered rain-bridge, a huddle of huts, beautiful scenery, and very few tourists. Getting here was a nightmare since the rains had washed out the roads and caused numerous landslides. So, the going was very slow and was held up at times when we had to wait for bulldozers to clear the way for us. On top of that, the bus was full of young, whiney french backpackers who complained the whole way up. The girls did find me very handsome, though (I didn't let on that I spoke french, so I had fun eavesdropping on their conversations.) It didn't rain on the way up here, but it started to pour as soon as I got out of the bus.

I'm OK

2006-07-18T06:39:00.000-07:00

I'm just reading about the floods in China right now. While the rain has been torrential and the roads have been treacherous, Guanxhi province (where I am right now) was spared, compared to neighboring Guangdong province.

Sorry for the lack of posting on my part - I have been away from internet access since early monday morning.

5 pizzas and the cutest girls in China

2006-07-18T06:34:00.000-07:00

For 3 days, it continued to rain in Yangshuo. The after-effects of the Taiwan Typhoon sent sheets and sheets of rain down on us, so we sought refuge in a cosy restaurant that specialized in Thai food and Wood-burning oven pizzas. The pizzas were delicious, but the real attraction was the waitresses, all of whom were absolutely adorable what with their careful, beautifully accented english and huge dimples that lit up the room. So, the Impeccably Dressed Indian and I returned for five meals in a row (lunch and dinner) and ordered mushroom and green pepper pizzas, much to the amusement of the working staff.

Rain, rain go away...

2006-07-15T22:48:00.000-07:00

... and go bother someone else.

It's been raining for almost 24 hrs straight now. The Li Jiang river has risen several feet and the islands that used to host grazing cattle are now completely submerged. This, of course, leads one to wonder what happened to the cattle. What a waste of potentially good steak or stir-fried beef with brocolli.

The Impeccably Dressed Indian and I were planning to go up north to visit some villages and famous terrassed rice paddies, but after hours of non-stop rain we opted to stay in and wait this one out. We preferred the option of a relatively dry day indoors to hiking uphill on a slippery mud trail for an hour in the pouring rain with our backpacks.

We've been pretty lucky with the weather here in Yangshuo, so I shouldn't complain. Of course, it's always annoying to have to stay put and kill time while you wait for the storm to pass. I just hope this one passes! There are rumours that this storms marks the beginning of the rainy season!