The Monsoon Diaries

It Zermatt-ers A Lot You Followed Through!

Calvin Sun — Fri, 03 Apr 2026 15:56:01 +0000

Any normal person would have headed home after 4 consecutive days of 6+ hours of skiing black diamond powder at 3,330 meters followed by six hours of raving in a blizzard.

But I am not a normal person. Unlike most people, I don’t procrastinate on fulfilling lifelong dreams. I follow through on the plans and head to Zurich, where my sore body will keep up.

After a day of reset in Geneva with the Tomorrowland Winter group and saying our goodbyes from the elevators, I slept in until 10am to find everyone had already driven off to the airport. I made some coffee, meditated on the Airbnb’s 9th floor balcony, and took the public tram outside to the train station, where I bought my ticket and waited for the 11:14am departure from Platform 5 to Visp.

Because it’s Zermatt and I’d like to ride in style, I took first class. Totally empty.

I ate what I’d picked up at the Coop supermarket in the station, did some work at the window-facing workstation, and spent two and a half hours watching Switzerland scroll past.

At Visp I had plenty of time before the connecting Matterhorn Gotthard Bahn, the train that runs the last leg into Zermatt, departed fourteen minutes later.

This was also in first class, which had wider seats and more privacy.

It took another hour and 15 minutes to reach Zermatt from Visp.

Approximately 3 and a half hours after leaving Geneva, I arrived in Zermatt at 3pm.

Like Venice, Zermatt is entirely “pedestrian” past the train station, which means no cars. If you need to get around in faster vehicles, there are small electric golf cart-style minibuses that are either hired as taxis, caught as a free bus running every ten minutes, or sent by your hotel if it’s fancy enough.

The crown jewel is the sight of Matternhorn itself around Zermatt, as if the entire town was built around its views.

For the first time I used the American Express $600 premium hotel credit that comes with the Platinum card every year, and put it toward the Schweizerhof, which is steps from the train station and equally close to the Gornergrat tram that takes you up toward the best views of the Matterhorn.

While I waited on a free room upgrade, Amanda arrived 30 minutes behind me. Amanda is one of our newer but consistent monsooner who started coming on my Tomorrowland trips and has since migrated to our ski trips too. We’d made the promise to come to Zermatt together as far back as when we first formally met 2 years ago, then renewed our vows again during our first ski trip of the season in Killington last December. On that same trip, Deb, another first-timer monsooner who I’d met through my partner’s friends at a game night, had floated the idea of joining us. Well, 4 months later, Deb had gotten in the night before and was already at the Schweizerhof.

All 3 of us had also used the Amex hotel pipeline to book here, where Amanda ended up with a better room than mine. Yet, at this level of luxury, I couldn’t care to be spoiled enough to complain.

I dropped my bags, booked a massage at the hotel spa on the basement level from our rooms, picked up ski rentals from the office right next to the spa, stored everything in the hotel locker room across the hall from the rentals office, and grabbed my lift pass from reception, all without ever leaving the building. What thoughtful convenience.

We then caught up with Deb in Amanda’s room for an hour before I headed down early for the massage and my second in two days (both necessary!) and joined Deb and Amanda afterward in the sauna and baths. Fully relaxed, we went up to our rooms to change for our 7:45pm dinner at Alpine Gourmet Prato Borni, Michelin-starred and one of the top restaurants in town.

The restaurant is located in the Zermatterhof hotel about a 6 minutes walk from the station.

They took our coat and guided us into a ballroom-style dining room:

We began with a flight of champagne, rosé, and red wine on a bottles cart, and they offered us to have much as we wanted.

Then we began with an Amuse Bouche which included 22 year old aged cheese over beef tartare:

Then in order with bread:

Valaisan Perch and Oona caviar from Frutigen
Valaisan Verjus / Shoju / Blood Orange

Jerusalem Artichoke
Hay / chestnuts / Truffle Tart

Mousseline cream soup of Aemme Shrimps
Krupuk / Lemon Verbena

Scottish hand-dived scallop and Luma pork belly & Miéral Pigeon
Beetroot / Double Cream from Gruyère PDO

Trio of Swiss Wagyu Beef
Mountain Potatoes from the Albula Valley / Stachys / Tardivo / Winter Truffle

Rhubarb palette cleanser

Zermatterhof Cheese Trolley
Choice of raw-milk Cheese from Switzerland and the neighboring Countries

(we had a little bit of ALL OF THEM):

Pear
Walnut / Valaisan Cornalin / Zermatter Honey

Dark Felchlin chocolate
Rosehip / Spruce

Petit fours:

After 4 hours of dining, we wobbled back with bliss back to our hotel:

The next morning we woke up to a comfy, cozy breakfast spread at the Schweizerhof downstairs:

Then my friend Caty Zhao arrived from Zurich; mind you: Zurich is four hours away by train.

Caty and I first met 16 years ago when she walked up to me, a random stranger, on a street in Sevilla and asked for directions. I didn’t let her go after that. A year later, after a week in Iran with 9 other monsooners, we pulled an all-nighter from Geneva to Bern by train, arriving at midnight, hanging out with Caty until 4am, then back on the train. She then visited me in New York with her boyfriend a few years after that. And now, 4 hours each way for one day in Zermatt. I guess it comes full circle since I did that for her back in in 2011.

How many of you have acquaintances turned friends around the world who would take a train for 4 hours to hang out with you for just a day? Caty makes me feel so blessed.

Amanda and Deb went to get their rentals while Caty and I caught up. Then Caty and Deb got acquainted while Amanda and I grabbed our gear from upstairs. Deb opted for easier slopes on her own while Amanda, Caty, and I hiked 6 minutes through a snowstorm to the Sunnegga lift for a few runs before our lunch reservation at Adler Hitta, slope trail #6, arranged by the hotel.

Skiing along the Matterhorn is exactly as breathtaking as it sounds.

We made it to the restaurant just in time for lunch.

We spent an hour and a half eating and overlooking Zermatt and the Matterhorn. Then we skied back into town where Amanda got pulled into a last-minute work mediation; she’s a lawyer, had filed her PTO weeks in advance, and here we were. Caty and I then headed back up and skied the rest of the afternoon.

Caty and I first took the Gornergrat train up, realized I’d left my poles back at the end of the Sunnegga trails, skied down from Riffelberg without poles (the rest of the Gornergrat was closed due to high winds), took the free town bus to Sunnegga, retrieved my poles, and lapped Sunnegga over and over until Caty was done and the lifts closed.

Back in town, Caty returned her rentals and freshened up in my room. Afterwards, we tried for dinner at the Cheese Factory which was known for classic Swiss fondue, right within the Schweizerhof complex.

Deb said the earliest she could get was an 8:30pm reservation but Caty needed to catch the 8pm train home. So Caty and I went downstairs in person to ask for 7pm. We were pretty charming because voila: They got it for us! I then messaged the group and within 10 minutes we were dipping bread in wild herb, black truffle, and champagne fondue.

By 7:45pm Caty had to begin her long journey home.

I still can’t believe it; it’s like if a friend comes to visit the USA and is only going to be in Boston and asks if I could come visit them from NYC for the day.

I walked back to finish the fondue with Deb and Amanda, we had a few glasses of wine in Amanda’s room, and said goodbye to Deb who had an early flight from ZRH airport.

Amanda and I woke up the next morning to news that high winds had taken out 2/3 of the lifts. After 5 ski trips this season — Killington, Park City, Lapland, Tomorrowland Winter, and now this — we took the weather’s hint and took it easy. We then finished breakfast, Amanada went to the gym, we walked around town, had lunch at Pavilion with the Matterhorn in front of us, got massages at the hotel, and then headed to Infinity Terrace for dinner.

To get there you walk through a long, Disney-esque tunnel up through the Schönegg Hotel.

No hotel reservation required for drinks and dinner at the top. Just this:

As the evening got colder we moved inside for front-row seats.

I’m going to miss this:

After dinner, back outside one last time under a clear night sky.

To never flaking on our promises.

The next morning I was up at 6:40am, packed, checked out, scarfed down breakfast, and made the 7:37am train from Zermatt back to Visp.

Then something impossible happened: a Swiss train got delayed. We were held for 10 minutes at St. Niklaus VS station due to another train approaching. That meant we’d arrive at Visp at 8:53am instead of 8:47am. The problem was that my onward train to Zurich Airport was leaving Visp at 8:54am from a different platform. The conductor even came through the car personally to tell each of us that that train would not wait, not even a minute, and we should start making contingency plans.

We did not accept that as an answer.

We pulled into Visp on Platform 3 at 8:53am and all of us bolted out the doors, myself with 25kg of luggage and ski gear, down the ramp, under the tracks, up the other side, and reached the Zurich train just as the whistle blew and the doors started beeping shut. I was yelling “no no no no no” at a closing door with an opening too small to fit through. The button to reopen it wasn’t doing anything. I then spotted another door down the same car still closing, sprinted to it, and leapt through the gap dragging my luggage behind me. The door closed on it. I heard something crack. The sliding handle of my suitcase, telescoped out and now permanently stuck that way, would not go back in.

I’d figure with my obnoxious refusal of accepting my fate, I’d pay some price at least.

The others made it on too, huffing and puffing. I spent the next 20 mintues trying to fix the handle, gave up, and sat grateful for two and a half hours to Zurich Airport.

Once out on the platform, a family picked up my suitcase by mistake, understandable after seeing theirs, except the wobbly broken handle gave it away as not theirs. They’d actually done me a favor by hauling it off the train. I thanked them, grabbed it, and walked to check-in wondering if check in agents would flag a suitcase with a visibly broken telescoping handle. Then I had an idea: I jerked the handle back and forth until it snapped clean off. Normal luggage again, just missing one handle. Checked it without a second glance from any agent, and flew out to Brussels.

Brussels first, then Frankfurt the next day. I always enjoy these unplanned European city layovers with no itinerary, no group, just wandering around reorienting myself back to regular life after a monsoon. Both Brussels and Frankfurt were exactly that.

From Frankfurt, I redeemed 87,000 Capital One miles for Singapore Airlines business class back to JFK, which was the same Frankfurt-New York route I flew eight months ago and reviewed extensively, and then again in the opposite direction four months ago. At this point it’s a comfort ritual.

And just as 8 months ago, I started in the Air Canada Maple Leaf lounge, whose access came with the business class ticket

I then ducked into the Lufthansa Business Class lounge right before boarding since it was directly next to the gate.

Separate boarding tunnel for premium cabins is always a pleasure:

Feels good to be reunited with the extra space of the bulkhead seats of Row 11:

For my Book the Cook experience, I chose Pork Cheeks:

And now it’s onto our next adventure!

- At time of posting in Zermatt, it was -6 °C - Humidity: 61% | Wind Speed: 3km/hr | Cloud Cover: bipolar bluebirds and blizzards

The post It Zermatt-ers A Lot You Followed Through! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Alpe “d’Huez” in Charge Here? We Couldn’t Wait Until Tomorrow, for Tomorrowland Winter

Calvin Sun — Sat, 28 Mar 2026 15:26:05 +0000

After 3 days reorienting my circadian rhythms in Barcelona, I flew out early morning to Zurich, transferred quickly, and landed in Geneva at 2pm.

Victor, Patricia, Cindy, and Donna had already arrived the night before in Geneva where Cindy, who instead of me had got everyone’s Tomorrowland bracelets this time thanks to her pre-sale access (she had went last year), presented them with their boxes including both the bracelet and butterfly wings to wear during the festival. I had Donna’s as she signed up later.

They all then drove to Huez earlier this morning in their rental car, which was filled with their warm bodies and ski gear, leaving no room for a big ogre like me. Therefore taking one for the team, I arranged an Alps2Alps private transfer instead of trying to make the 1pm Tomorrowland shuttle, which I would have missed anyway.

This private transfer cost me 300 euros and was probably the most expensive transfer I’ve ever paid for, and definitely the first time I’ve done that internationally. But after 15 years of this, back when I was a medical student hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt who would’ve spent seven hours on trains and buses to get somewhere like this, I’m now at a point where 300 euros to skip all of that is an acceptable trade. I’ve adapted. Or I’m getting old.

The group had just finished their early ski runs by the time I arrived 4 hours later.

Once I was dropped off, I checked into my overflow Airbnb at Les Bergers in the La Christiana building complex that was located directly across the street from the Sunweb apartment Cindy had booked for the group. This worked out because as Donna signed up for this trip a few months after Cindy’s original booking for the group, we avoided cramming five people into a one-bedroom with a sofa bed thanks to this additional Airbnb unit.

After my Airbnb host Pierre personally oriented me around his second home and got me settled, Donna arrived. After she unpacked, we then headed to the Les Bergers main lodge to pick up my ski rentals at Intersport.

Once they gave me some Atomic Maverick 84s after I told them of my positive experience with Atomics last month in Finland, Donna and I crossed back uphill to Cindy, Victor, and Patricia’s suite at the Sunweb Les Bergers complex, whose poorly lit interior looks like it came straight out of a college dorm horror movie.

Their sunset views made up for it though:

We then cooked our first dinner together: pasta fettuccine with chicken.

After our dinner we headed out for our first night of Tomorrowland Winter.

Here’s what the setup looks like for anyone who hasn’t been: the evening festival area is about a 10-minute walk from Les Bergers over a bit of slippery ice and snow (so be careful!). If you haven’t slipped and fallen down yet to call it quits, once you get in it becomes a true carnival festival staged outdoors in the Alps, with a combination of indoor and underground venues.

You scan your bracelet at the entrance, get patted down, and then you’re in.

The first “venue” is a small room called Immersion, which is a tiny intimate party space.

Past that, a post office to mail Tomorrowland postcards . . .

. . . and a warmed up photo booth sponsored by the Sunweb property:

Both sandwiched the Tomorrowland merch store where I picked up a beanie and Donna came back every single night to stare at the 500-euro Tomorrowland-branded snowboard and ultimately held out. Whew.

Beyond the merch store, there’s plenty informal outdoor DJ booths with impromptu dance floors including in front of the Tomorrowland BBQ restaurant Brasa, and the ski lodge-themed Moose Bar. Then downstairs into the CAGE, one of two secondary stages, underground, featuring harder and more underground sounds in a venue that is literally underground.

Outside, the CORE stage is the other secondary stage. On our second night we were out there raving in a full blizzard with snow coming sideways and everyone losing their minds (in a good way). That was a trip highlight. More on that later.

And then the Mainstage: Tomorrowland’s perennially redesigned centerpiece, which is always different every year. We caught the tail end of Steve Aoki’s set and beginning of Charlotte de Witte’s before someone tried to grab Victor’s gold chain from behind. Bastards. They got the chain, but Victor managed to hold onto the pendants, which had a greater emotional value. That incident nevertheless deflated the night pretty fast and we headed home early.

The next morning after an early recovery both physically and emotionally, we woke up to a bluebird day for my first day of skiing at Tomorrowland Winter.

Morning meditation with this view and coffee became my new daily ritual.

Then we walked over to Victor, Patricia, and Cindy’s spot for breakfast with our gear before skiing out to the base and taking the lifts up.

During the day, Tomorrowland Winter sets up 3 additional stages on the slopes which is the part that makes this festival unique: You ski to a stage, pop off your skis, dance for a set, click back in, and move on to the next one.

Orbyz is the main slope stage, where we caught Charlotte de Witte as the day’s closer. Then suddenly, a huge white blanket covered the slopes as if it were White Walkers descending upon Alpe d’Huez. I began to play the soundtrack to Dune 2 in order to fit the scene.

The second stage was the Reflection of Love, which was completely frozen down on our second day during the blizzard.

On a better day:

And finally, Frozen Lotus, where we caught Alok in the front row on our third day as the storm started clearing.

6 hours of skiing and 4-5 hours of raving at night means day 2 and 3 involved a lot of beanbag breaks and extra coffee stops on the mountain. No days off.

Our our second night, we cooked chicken and kale salad.

Afterwards we headed to back to the night festival grounds where we ran into and reunited with monsooner Fanny and her brother John for Henri Bergmann b2b Layla Benitez in the CAGE. After their set, we went back outside to CORE for another set under a night blizzard. I’m not going to forget this moment. This part stood out.

As we were raving under this epic blizzard, I saw dudes still working up the nerve to try to shoot their shot with lone girls just trying to have fun underneath a magical sky. I sadly witnessed as they scattered under the persistent harassment when the dudes couldn’t take the hint. One of them must be the same guy who stole Victor’s chain last night.

Day 3 (or the second day of skiing) as mentioned above was fighting through zero visibility for as long as we could before calling it on the skiing. Cindy and I spent more time hanging out with Victor and Fannya at the Les Bergers sandwicherie shop before trying one more time to skip up and catch Alok’s closing set at the Reflection of Love stage.

Later that night we cooked some beef stew with salad. Then Patricia and Victor stayed behind as Cindy, Donna and I headed to Mainstage to party with Afrojack b2b R3HAB for their set. They know how to throw down a good set!

This is also where Cindy, Donna and I discovered a hack: Find the taped up boxed squares on the floor to stay put for your dancing at the Mainstage, because between each DJ set, stage staff members come in to clear them out for performers to strap in and dance above you for the 5 minutes before introducing the next DJ. This allows for some breathing room once the performers are done and the crew lets you fill in those squares again.

We woke up to a bluebird day again on Day 4. Cindy and I took advantage of this by riding up to the Huez summit at 3,330 meters above sea level, and skied above the clouds on powdery black diamond trails (my nemesis, other than moguls) for most of the morning.

Am I on Everest?

Where we skied from:

The oxygen gets pretty thin if you want to take the 3 gondolas up here for the views.

My views skiing down from the top:

Eventually we made our way back down to the Orbyz stage at the base, unclipped, and danced with Galantis spinning.

Victor and Patricia, in the mean time, found some backside trails with these views of Alpe d’Huez:

After his set, we headed back and cooked both marinated steak and chicken for dinner by yours truly.

That night it was Cindy who was fading, so we prioritized getting her to the music quickly. We headed back to the taped up square area where the performers were scheduled to dance between each sets so we had plenty of room to ourselves, caught Kölsch at mainstage just in time, and then Alok closed out the festival with the best set of the entire trip. We then headed to CAGE to take a peek, and all of us returned back home to pack for an early checkout as Cindy rallied to stay until closing.

I woke up, got in my morning routines, and ran to catch the Alps2Alps transfer bus at 9:15am; they’d given me the wrong pickup address and told me over numerous WhatsApp calls mid-sprint to head to the main Les Bergers shopping area instead. I’d make it just before it left. And traffic out of Huez was bad enough that Victor, Patricia, Cindy, and Donna in their rental car caught up to my bus anyway on the road.

Nearly five hours later we all reached Geneva. The bus dropped me at the airport and I Ubered to reunite with the group at our Airbnb stay called KoooK, where I then got a massage in the neighborhood to reset my body. 2 hours later we reconvened at the nearby Coop supermarket for our last dinner together: make-your-own Swiss cheese fondue with white wine specifically brewed for fondue.

We then miscalculated deciliters for liters and bought way too many bottles, then refunded the extras for Swiss francs cash that Donna now had to spend before her flight the next day. We also got some green beans, potatoes and a charcuterie board.

As the night wound down, Patricia and I took Donna’s leftover francs as a spiritual sign and headed into Geneva’s train station by tram for chocolates and gifts. We wandered the around the train station mall as if we were phasing through a liminal space, grabbed one last mango for the road (an oversized Peruvian mango had become our nightly tradition), and headed back for dessert and goodbyes.

I couldn’t have asked for a better group of humans to party with, dance with, ski with, and cook for. I’ll miss y’all already. This week has been a family dream.

The next morning I’ll wake up whenever and begin my way over to the second part of this trip: The Swiss Alps!

- At time of posting in Alpe d'Huez, it was -3 °C - Humidity: 52% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: blizzard storms

The post Alpe “d’Huez” in Charge Here? We Couldn’t Wait Until Tomorrow, for Tomorrowland Winter appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Why Not “Disfrutar”?

Calvin Sun — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 10:39:07 +0000

We got a lot going on in the world right now: There’s now a war in Iran, the funding bill for our DHS still hasn’t passed, and the entirety of the TSA has been working without a paycheck for the past month. With the war, I’d imagine both the region and Emirates have been scrambling their routes, reshuffling availability across their entire network.

And I guess at the last minute, it came as a shock (or no surprise) that a business class flight on Emirates from JFK to Milan Malpensa for 87,000 miles popped up on a Friday night. I’ll take it.

Getting through the airport was its own adventure. With TSA toiling without a paycheck, the lines at JFK were a testament to what underfunded infrastructure and petty politics looks like in real time. Regular TSA at Terminal 4: a 2-3 hour wait. Business and first class security: not much better at an hour. TSA PreCheck: also an hour. CLEAR alone: 30 minutes. CLEAR plus PreCheck: no line. I have never been more grateful for the credit cards covering what I had originally thought was an unnecessary service.

With the time I saved from arriving earlier than usual, I did something I’d never actually done before at JFK: paid a visit to the Emirates lounge in Terminal 4.

Not very flashy, but the food already puts it above the generic spread you find in most Terminal 1 lounges.

I grabbed an early dinner expecting to skip the onboard meal service — the goal was to prioritize sleep — and caught the latest episode of The Pitt.

With half an hour left before boarding at 9pm, I asked to take a quick shower at the lounge:

The boarding process for Emirates’ premium cabin has always entertained me with its small pleasures: a dedicated boarding gate, no shuffling behind 40 people with roller bags, and a minibar set up in my seat with snacks, 2 water bottles, and a bottle of fizzy water.

I found my seat, got settled, and promptly knocked out, skipping both meals.

I got in a solid 5-6 hours of sleep despite waking up once to use the bathroom and again to change into their famed bamboo pajamas — my second pair. The first came off an Emirates flight right after the White Coat Ceremony at Downstate back in September 2024, where I went straight from giving a speech in a white coat to an airport in my adventure outfit for my three flights to Bhutan. That PJ set has held up beautifully, and now I have a backup. This time, however, I left them the blanket. I don’t need two plane blankets.

Landing at Malpensa feeling more rested than usual, I sauntered past passport control, stamped into the EU, grabbed my checked bag with my ski boots, and looked at the departures board. My onward Vueling flight to Barcelona wasn’t until 3pm, so I went online and moved it up to 2:05pm, checked in, cleared security, and got into Barcelona by 4pm.

I then took an Uber to Barceló Sants, settled in, snuck in an evening workout, and slept early.

The next morning, after a record 11 hours of sleep, I headed to the beach at 10am to meet Madison, someone I’d been meaning to meet in person for over six years. We were connected through Mike Novak, with whom I did two Young Pioneer Tours trips (Afghanistan and Socotra!), and it took six years of Instagram DMs to finally lead to coffee on a beach in Barcelona, talking about her work in Ukraine during the war and her life here. We walked the full length of the pier and back, got lunch at a Lebanese place called Anís Café, and then she headed off. I went back to the hotel, did some work, worked out again, and we ended up coordinating to meet again a few hours later for dinner at MadMad Vegan.

The next morning I woke up for a quick workout, checked out, and headed back to the airport with my luggage and ski boots. For my third night in Barcelona I’d booked the Sleep&Fly in Terminal 1 to store my stuff, freshen up, head back into the city for dinner without dragging everything around with me. Finding the Sleep&Fly was a minor ordeal; their website directions are maddeningly vaguer than an escape room challenge, and I eventually gave up and pulled up a YouTube video. Once I found reception, checked in, freshened up, left my bags, and got back into the city for a long-awaited dinner at Disfrutar.

I’d booked this restaurant exactly one year ago on the day reservations opened. An alumnus of El Bulli, with its three Michelin Stars, Disfrutar has been perennially ranked the #1 restaurant in the world; it was on Pellegrino’s World’s Top 50 list so often it was eventually retired to a “Legends” category to make room for newer contenders. The reservation happened to land the night before Tomorrowland Winter began, which was either perfect planning or another on-brand monsoon-style happy accident… probably both, since I booked Tomorrowland long before I booked the flight, and the Disfrutar reservation predated either.

28 courses in 4 hours, beginning with…

Frozen passion fruit mojito ladyfinger

Beeroot rising from the Earth (no photo) paired with rose petals with gin and lychee raspberry

Black truffle vodka

Flourless ‘coca’ bread with truffle and burrata

Panchino filled with caviar and sour cream:

Bread with aerated smoked butter and caviar

Frozen gazpacho sandwich with fragrant sherry vinegar

The Gilda of Disfrutar

Crunchy mushroom leaf with porcini butter

Crispy egg yolk with warm mushrooms gelatin

Creamy mushrooms “escabeche” with oyster

Multi-spherical pesto with tender pistachios and eel

Our macaroni alla carbonara

Liquid salad: Tomato “polvorón” and arbequina Caviaroli

Hake “Suquet” with suquet “cappucino”

The hen that laid the golden eggs: crustacean fried egg

Foie gras and sweetcorn multi spherical tatin

Squab with kombu seaweed, amazake and almond

Instant smoked home-made cider & Walnut heart (cheese)

Reflection on the walnut

Hoisin cucumber

Black sesame cornet with yoghurt and wild strawberries

Black apple with noisette butter ice cream

Petit fours: Pineapple Rock. Strawberry mochi. Raspberry marshmallow. Matcha tea rock. Chocolate and passionfruit liquid bonbon. Violet cotton candy.

I couldn’t have asked for better company in Ramón and Gabriela, both locals who’ve already been to Disfrutar three times and still made this one work despite now having two kids. I last saw Gabriela ten months ago in July, just before the running of the bulls. Ramón I hadn’t seen in ten years, since 2016, and it was just like old times, as if we barely aged at all, whether ten months or ten years.

We know bamboo shoots take years to water before they bloom suddenly into a tall, robust plant, growing up to 80–90 feet in height in just weeks. It felt like that although the three of us had met in another lifetime as acquaintances, we’d soon realize that little did we know back then the whole point of it was to plant seeds for a bamboo shoot dinner like this to happen.

After goodbyes and more concrete plans made for the future than we ever had done in the past, I cabbed back to the Sleep&Fly and got a solid 7.5 hours before the next chapter.

Waking up at 8am with an hour before boarding, I took my large luggage up to the Terminal 1 departures area to check it in. Thanks to my grandfathered United Gold status, I dodged a particularly brutal line:

Then I walked back to my airport hotel room for their free breakfast and coffee. This whole airport hotel vibe feels like a liminal space.

With 20 minutes before boarding, I took advantage of the hotel’s conveniently inconvenient location in the Barcelona-Madrid shuttle corridor: you can access all the gates through here but through a completely empty security lane. Boarding pass in hand, I skipped through the crowds again and sailed straight through with a short walk to the main terminal, with even a few minutes left to leave the gate to refill my water bottle in the airport lounge. I’ll be using that hack again if flying out from BCN; I’d much rather walk than wait in line.

It was during here I suddenly felt compelled to write this:

These gates you walk past aren’t just destinations: they’re possibilities. The “what if I did this or that” floating abstractly in your head, where they’re so much easier to dismiss, have now become Barcelona, Porto, Ulaanbaatar, La Paz, Budapest, Phoenix, Ouagadougou, Varanasi, Shanghai, Queenstown, Warsaw: suitable titles for divergent and equally valid lives, manifested from thought into point-blank, figuratively literal gates staring at your face.

A life spent moving not just past but through those gates, and subsequently living countless lives, eventually leads me to my next destination, a long-held suspicion and its ultimate confirmation: that prioritizing flexibility over money, accountability over laissez-faire, freedom over stability, purpose over milestones, ikigai over early retirement — always choosing instead of settling — rewires your brain, and how you perceive and move through the world as a consequence. I welcomed life choosing my trips incrementally, gate after gate, until one day I looked back and genuinely could no longer feel the ceiling my head used to bump against. What I thought was “clarity” in my 20s was still just confined by the limits of what I’d been exposed to; not “wrong,” rather just right enough to bump that ceiling one inch further, until eventually I looked back and felt like I was dancing along Saturn’s rings with thousands of others who came along for the ride. Maybe this too will one day become a misinformed conclusion borne out of the naivety of my 30s, but at least we’re always moving in a direction of purpose and reemerging awakening, still living, still traveling, still sharing, still writing, still evolving.

Neuroplasticity isn’t the destination, though. It’s a condition certain lifestyles (or if you’d rather wait for them, tragic moments in life) will nurture, sustain, and then accelerate. The surreal part: the only organ capable of comprehending this change is the very organ that’s changing. You may not notice it until you’re already on the other side of it. There’s really no way for the brain to know if it’s really evolving or wasting away until it’s too late — so the least you can do is nurture the capability for self-awareness before it is. Iceberg, right ahead!

In the spirit of that last sentence, let alone the lifestyle of traveling around the globe, let’s go in circles for a minute about what conditions it takes to get here.

Access to this kind of sustainable, sober neuroplasticity can feel like it requires resources, like it’s a privilege. Everything does come easier when you’re more resourced. But the freedom I may be unsuccessfully alluding to here isn’t “freedom to live however you want,” it’s freedom as a mindset. And mindsets, while harder to access without material stability, aren’t exclusively its property. Money might make the path easier, but it can also become a distraction from realizing you didn’t need it to arrive at the same place. I’d argue in a separate piece how 5 minutes of daily meditation is probably both more affordable and more effective than booking a flight to get there. Besides, you can’t take any of it with you anyway.

The more honest caveat: meet basic needs first, find the mindset second. Maslow’s floor before his ceiling. Though even that gets complicated when you consider that most people alive today, including many we’d consider struggling, have access to plumbing and public WiFi that kings couldn’t have imagined for themselves a few generations ago. Maybe most of us are already ready, and it’s more accessible than we give ourselves credit for. Or, what I actually just ran for office fighting against, the basic conditions for this kind of autonomy are being deliberately and inappropriately engineered toward fewer and fewer people. Both things feel true depending on the day.

As much as I’m emotionally and politically invested in the latter, I lay out both because this is exactly the kind of argument where you can be talked into either corner depending on circumstances, where “it depends” isn’t a cop-out but the actual point. The complexity of a situation can compel anyone to feel they’re at the losing end no matter which way they play. But you can’t lose if you don’t play the game in the first place.

Which is all to say: we harnessed complexity to escape suffering. That’s the entire civilizational project: make life less brutal, less chaotic, less “what if this or that happened,” more survivable. But somewhere in the accumulation, the machinery we invented to avoid suffering became its own source of it. The complexity meant to protect us from life’s most basic fact started to be that fact. And eventually — through loss (boy do I know this one), through stillness (working on it), through travel (my preference; I’d rather move through gates than wait around for the next diagnosis or funeral to learn the same lesson) — an event or someone brings you back to the source code anyway. Strip the distractions and life resolves into one sentence: barren void and chaos. Entropy, uncertainty, suffering if you’re Buddhist or if you’ve decided chaos and suffering are the same thing. Call it what you want. Not a meme. Just the Truth (remember that?) the thing that was true before and after everything else you do about it.

But it doesn’t have to end there. “The traveler who’s been to every country in the world only to understand, finally, where home was all along” is a cliché that’s also not a cliché. That’s the actual structure of the realization: you need to draw a circle to find its center. No destination without a journey. No courage without fear. No center without a circumference. The journey was more than adjacent to the conclusion — it was the method. And once we’ve arrived at the barren chaos, once we’re standing on that blank canvas, we can begin to build anything we want from it. That’s where we build and find our gates.

As long as this world doesn’t burn down anytime soon, your gates are still there. Your resources begin from a mindset, and from there it’s just how you decide to practice it. Your purpose and possibilities are still staring back, from without and within. And whatever you’re feeling reading this is maybe a gate itself — I’ll selfishly call it Monsoonia, just for your sake.

Surrender to the nihilism, or stay in the stillness, or walk past another gate, or finally through one. Call it your practice — it’s still your call. The maddening part is you usually can’t see what your life and purpose really were until you’ve already walked through enough gates to understand what you’d been looking at all along.

Less than an hour transiting through Zurich, where I scarfed down a quick lunch at the SWISS Air Business Class Lounge:

I then landed at GVA at 2pm. Victor, Patricia, Cindy, and Donna had already driven over from Geneva to Huez that morning in their rental car; they’d arrived the day before. And after we confirmed they’d be driving a full car, full ski gear, and no more room, I’d arranged an Alps2Alps private transfer instead of trying to make the 1pm Tomorrowland shuttle, which I would have missed anyway.

I gotta say, the car size they sent for one person was a little overkill:

The transfer for me was 300 euros. This was probably the most expensive transfer I’ve ever paid for, and definitely the first time I’ve paid that for an international taxi. But after 15 years of doing this, back when I was a medical student hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and would’ve taken seven hours of trains and buses to get somewhere like this, I’m now at a point where 300 euros to not spend 7 hours on buses and trains I was going to miss anyway is an acceptable trade. I’ve adapted.

Once I arrived, the group had just finished their ski runs. I then checked into my overflow Airbnb at Les Bergers, which turned out to be directly across the street from the apartment Cindy had originally booked for the group. This happened because Donna joined much later, which meant instead of cramming 5 people into a one-bedroom with a sofa bed situation, we had a second unit right there for everyone in the group to spread out comfortably.

Once settling in thanks to a gracious Airbnb host named Pierre, Donna and I headed over to the Les Bergers’ main lodge to pick up my ski rentals at Intersport at Les Bergers.

Tomorrowland Winter, here we come!

- At time of posting in Barcelona, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 26% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: pleasant

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Meet the Tomorrowland Winter Monsooners!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 02 Mar 2026 17:26:22 +0000

Why do Tomorrowland just once a year when you can do it twice AND ski/snowboard at the same time? Introducing the following returning monsooners for this iteration of our favorite annual festival. Welcome back those returning with me for their 2nd, 3rd, or even 10th monsoon:

- Donna “Spyglass” Vo: 10 time monsooner and having visited 16+ countries with me, returning from Ceuta and Melilla, South Korea, Svalbard, Sardinia, Isle of Man & Northern Ireland, Australia & New Zealand, Prague & Budapest, Japan, Cyprus, and The French Polynesia
- Cindy “Trenchfoot” Cui: 2 time monsooner returning from Svalbard and Extreme South America!
- Amanda “Pink Pony Club” Thai, 3 time monsooner returning from returning from Park City, Killington 2025 and Tomorrowland 2025
- Victor “Chief Rally Officer” Tran: 3 time monsooner returning from Tomorrowland 2025, Stratton, VT and The Greek Epic
- Patricia “Crystal Garden” Chen, returning from Tomorrowland 2025

Introducing our newest generation of monsooners:

Calvin "Castles in the Sky" Sun - Expedition Leader | Emergency Physician | NYC

Amanda "Pink Pony Club" Thai - Return Monsooner: Jan. '26 (Park City), Dec. '25 (Killington), July '25 (Tomorrowland) | Product Specialist | NYC

Patricia - Return Monsooner: July '25 (Tomorrowland) | Chicago, IL

Cindy "Trenchfoot" Cui - Return Monsooner: Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Apr. '15 (Extreme South America) | NYC

Donna "Spyglass" V. – Senior Monsooner: Jul. '25 (Ceuta & Melilla), Mar. '23 (South Korea), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia), Sept. '21 (The Tyrrhenian Sea), June '21 (Cyprus), May '19 (Isle of Man & Northern Ireland), Jan '19 (Prague & Budapest), Aug. '18 (Japan), Winter ’18 (Australia & NZ) | Boston, MA | Real Estate & Construction | Wentworth Institute of Technology

Victor “Chief Rally Officer” Tran - Return Monsooner: July '25 (Tomorrowland), July '23 (Greek Island Hopping) | Google | Chicago, IL

And where we’re actually monsooning through this coming end of March 2025:

Huez, France

Zermatt, Switzerland

Want to join us? More details about the trip can be found here: SPRING 2025

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All Aboard the Santa Claus Express!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 11 Feb 2026 04:41:08 +0000

I woke up to an Arctic sunrise again, this time to send Mel off on her early flight back at 7:30am; she had to return a day before the rest of us. After she left in an Uber to the airport, I cooked the last of what was left in the fridge at the Airbnb and saw the rest of the group off as they scrambled to make it in time for their 10am booking at the Arctic Circle Snowmobile Park (the same place where Mel and I had done our reindeer excursion yesterday) for a 6-hour combo tour of reindeer, huskies, and snowmobiles. They bounced so fast Shirley just left her pink thermos on the table.

Although I stayed behind, within minutes Melissa had returned telling me that when they called ahead at the beginning of their drive to say they’d be a bit late, they received a reply to not bother coming at all. However, I insisted there had been so much waiting around when Mel and I first checked in yesterday that the group should still show up and not take no for an answer. If they’re only 10–15 minutes late while everyone else is still busy registering their drivers’ licenses and fitting into jumpsuits for the snowmobiles, and ultimately aren’t hurting anyone by joining a 6-hour tour they already paid for, what’s the reason for denying them? And just as I expected: it worked. They got back in the car, drove 20 minutes over, and still got on the tour despite being 15 minutes late!

What followed was my solo morning of house cleaning, camp checks, and retrieving left-behind items scattered across two chalets’ worth of group travel. I was on track to check out on time until two things happened simultaneously: I found out my Facebook Ads account got hacked yesterday, sending me into a full security lockdown spiral on my phone, and while sorting that out, I accidentally discovered I had booked my return flight off by one day. So now I’m on hold with the airline while also changing passwords while also confirming I haven’t been charged for ads I didn’t run while also trying to pack. The cleaning staff arrived at around 1pm and kindly worked the house around me as I sat at the kitchen table triaging crises on my laptop. I had fittingly become the late-checkout person… the same kind of person who had made us check in late 2 days earlier.

By 3pm it was finally done: My Facebook and Meta accounts were re-secured and all the fraudulent payments rescinded. I then thanked the cleaners for their patience in working around me and hailed a Bolt to take me from the Airbnb to Rovaniemi train station, where I stored my luggage in their automated lockers. Then I called our car rental company to confirm drop-off instructions at the station and set out on foot.

Walking 10 minutes through the peaceful white snow on my own two legs with no car, group, or an agenda, I made my way 8 minutes over to Santa’s Gym, which had just opened at 4pm.

I caught up on 2 workouts there before walking over to Leima in the Postmaster Hotel, right by the station, for a massive ribs dinner. 1 kg of pork ribs? 30–35 ribs total? No problem.

Before:

After:

The Santa Claus Express

By 6pm the group had finished their snowmobile tour and headed to a petting zoo afterward in Santa Claus Village. By 7:30pm they had already filled up the gas tank, dropped off the rental car per my instructions on the group chat, and we reunited at Rovaniemi train station catching up on our respective days. And Shirley was reunited with her pink thermos.

The next highlight: our 9pm overnight sleeper train to Helsinki.

VR, Finland’s national railway, operates what’s nicknamed the Santa Claus Express: a double-decker night train that runs direct from Rovaniemi to Helsinki in about 12 hours. It’s like the PG version of Mauritania’s Iron Ore Train: one of those off-the-beaten-path travel experiences where the mode of transportation itself is the experience rather than just a way to get somewhere.

Every one of us paid a little extra for the upstairs lie-flat cabins, which come with en-suite toilets, showers, two bunk beds with proper bedding and towels, free WiFi, and — the reason we splurged — upper-floor windows for aurora viewing if the northern lights decided to make an appearance while we slept.

But we already got quite a good show 2 days ago:

…so at this point we didn’t expect anything. Instead we congregated at Sampson and Shirley’s room for some late-night chit-chat before Sampson started to fall asleep.

And that’s when I learned everyone’s favorite color on this trip is green: Hence how 4 random strangers decided to sign up for a monsoon that would feature peak aurora borealis viewing.

We said good night through the thin cabin walls, settled in, and let the gentle rocking of the train put us to sleep somewhere above the Arctic Circle.

Helsinki: Full Circle

What I woke up to 9 hours later:

The rest of the group woke up to their pre-ordered breakfast through VR’s website, delivered directly to their cabins at around 8am. By 9:15am we pulled into Helsinki Central Station, a full 12 hours and one full night’s sleep after departing Rovaniemi.

I really can’t shake off the impression Helsinki’s art deco, Gotham City–inspired architecture at its train station had first made on me when I saw it 10 years ago:

We headed downstairs to store our luggage in the station lockers and said our goodbyes to Melissa. After she got into an Uber to the airport and Sampson and Shirley got into a separate Uber to their hotel, Yuhan and I set out on a mission: retrieve my headphones from Hobo Helsinki, the ones I’d left behind 5 days earlier.

After a 10-minute walk through town, we sauntered in, asked at the front desk, and they pulled them right out of the back room. Problem solved before it was even a problem — just as promised. Success!

Yuhan and I then got our first of the day’s coffee at Robert’s Coffee Jugend as Sampson and Shirley checked into their hotel, and then the 4 of us reunited right back across from Hobo Helsinki for breakfast at Fazer, the same place where some of our monsooners got together for brunch 9 years ago when we were last here:

Afterward, we walked around Senate Square.

Then, saying goodbye to Sampson and Shirley from their hotel room, Yuhan and I walked back to the train station to retrieve our luggage and took an Uber to the airport for our flights home. I would fly from Helsinki to Brussels, and then onwards to London the next day for my LHR-JFK Virgin Atlantic business class flight I had booked with 16,000 miles on a promotion they were offering last year.

Now a special shoutout to my experience afterward flying Virgin Atlantic for the first time in their Upper Class cabin, starting right at check-in in LHR Terminal 3. A private elevator next to the check-in desk took me directly to a private security screening area.

I then meandered through T3’s myriad of lounges from A through H (that’s 8 lounges!) before finding what’s arguably the world’s best airport lounge: the Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse.

It’s a dizzyingly large, sprawling space split into multiple zones: cocooned corners facing the airside, upper-level lounges, and everything connected by a boutique hotel lobby acting as the main artery.

That main area connecting all these zones:

And compare that to the speakeasy-style Amex Centurion Lounge about a 5-minute walk away:

Even the Virgin Atlantic Clubhouse toilets have their own dedicated bathroom suites:

And although there is a staffed food station (no buffet), you’re expected to order directly to your table via QR code:

After 3 hours at this lounge, I was ready to board my first Upper Class flight.

Each seat comes with its own fluffy white bedding:

Once I settled in, I noticed the big table doesn’t come out from the side, but rather comes down from the front, and then extends outward to enlarge. This was a noticeably a small yet impactful design choice that makes a surprising difference in usable space.

The food service was spot on, thanks to the ability to pre-order meals like with Singapore Airlines. I got the roast duck, and my attentive purser David made the whole experience feel effortless.

David recommended their chocolate cinnamon cake for my dessert:

And like Emirates‘ premium class cabins, Virgin’s premium cabins get access to their lounge situated in between Upper Class and Premium Economy:

After 6 hours in the air of food and movies, David set up a quick afternoon tea spread an hour before landing:

Home sweet home! Between the latest experiences on Emirates, Singapore, Air France and Virgin business classes, I’m gonna say, flying across the Atlantic is now getting more competitive than ever before! What’s next to try… the new Lufthansa Allegris product?

- At time of posting in somewhere in between Lapland and the rest of Finland, it was -6 °C - Humidity: 83% | Wind Speed: 4km/hr | Cloud Cover: cold as F...inlandia

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For Richer, For Polar

Calvin Sun — Mon, 09 Feb 2026 10:54:40 +0000

I just woke up to this Arctic sunrise before everyone else in the Airbnb. I took the time to make some scrambled eggs for breakfast, brewed the coffee, and leisurely sat down to write this blog post as I waited for the rest of the group to come to life. What a perfect morning.

Once everyone was up by 9:30am, we had breakfast, bundled up, and drove 27 minutes south toward Rovaniemi and into Santa Claus Village. The first thing to greet us was the gingerbread houses of Piparina Day Cabins & Dining that you can book for around 150 euros for 2 hours:

Santa Claus Village has been here since 1985, when Rovaniemi was declared the official hometown of Santa Claus. The origins go back further; the first building at the Arctic Circle here was the Roosevelt Lodge, built in the 1950s for a visit by Eleanor Roosevelt after the war.

Over time it grew into what it is now: a year-round Christmas tourist destination that draws over 700,000 visitors annually.

While everyone was locked into the different array of Christmas-themed pleasures here, I was more enchanted with the surrounding area while walking through and around Santa Claus Village.

And yet, prior to any Santa Claus house or office is a big shopping mall with competing gift stores (so competitive that most of which will tell you to cap your cameras while browsing their merchandise), a café, a cocktail bar, and a dim sum restaurant.

We then ventured back out into the village’s strong suit: its beautiful surroundings.

As we approached the Marimekko and PENTIK shops, we found both were connected to Santa’s Office, where you can see him for free if you’re willing to wait over an hour. The exit is obviously through a crowded gift shop, which we went to instead.

But wait, that was only Santa’s Office. There’s also Santa’s House, where you can also see another clone of Santa for free with a much shorter wait, probably because people don’t realize you can see him simultaneously at two different locations until you reach this farther part of the village. And yes, that exit is also through another gift shop.

There are more saunas than people, there are more reindeer than people, and there are more gift shops than people here in Santa Claus Village.

Around here you can also take photos among the columns marking the Arctic Circle border as the Arctic Circle line runs right through the central square, or at least the line marking where it was in 1865. The actual Arctic Circle has since drifted about 700 meters north, putting it just south of Rovaniemi Airport. But who’s counting.

My fellow bboy Sampson and I renewed a time-honored tradition: the Arctic Circle just got served!

Then some of us wanted to ship some postcards from Santa’s Post Office, which was packed, for another and different kind of gift shop if you think about it.

I really enjoyed seeing the number of letters separated by country that get shipped here; Santa’s Post Office receives over half a million letters a year from children around the world. Seeing that display then made me feel guilty about being so judgmental of the whole pageantry of this well-made tourist attraction/trap/wonderland. I did genuinely appreciate places like these for the hope they provide for young children before any disillusionment sets in. Don’t let me ruin your holidays!

Mel and I then tried to visit Mrs. Santa Claus’ Christmas Cottage, but it was closed on Sundays. I guess she’s the one who goes to church in the family. On brand.

Right outside, folks were warming themselves by a pit fire and paying to take their kids on a real reindeer ride.

Reindeer Excursion

Mel and I had our own reindeer excursion booked, so we grabbed food quickly at probably the fastest place to eat in Santa Claus Village, sadly the dim sum spot, and hurried over for our 1pm appointment at Arctic Circle Snowmobile Park.

We waited 15 minutes before more people joined, and then the 60+ of us were corralled to a nearby parking lot where a charter bus was waiting. The bus took us to Rovaniemi city center to pick up more people, where a small scuffle among some tourists speaking different languages broke out in the back over seats. The spillover folks were directed into a conveniently provided van across the street. We then all arrived at the reindeer park about an hour after the appointment time.

They divided the 60 of us into 2 groups, and each group of 30 was split into 3 groups of 5 pairs. Two by two, we climbed into sleighs for a 5-minute reindeer ride loop around the farm.

Our guide offered to take photos for us and our reindeer:

After our ride, we let the next 2 groups of 10 get on while we were given palmfuls of moss-looking reindeer food from a bag. The untethered reindeer came right up to eat from our palms, and we got to frolic amongst them. They can get picky about which moss they want to eat.

After the 2 other subgroups did their sled rides, we warmed up by the outdoor fire pit and then headed into the large main cabin for complimentary gingersnap cookies and warm berry juice. There the farm staff gave us a presentation on basic reindeer facts, their natural predators, and let us hold antlers that had naturally shed as the reindeer aged.

Although our booking said we’d be done and back at the village by 3pm, it was now 3:15pm with no charter bus in sight. Most of the group had wandered to the other parts of the farm to take photos.

Antsy to change and make a 4:30pm wedding ceremony in time, we hailed an Uber and let our guide know not to wait for us. Thankfully an Uber arrived within minutes and we got back to the village by 3:30pm and hurried over to where everyone else in our group was waiting by our car. We then drove as quickly as we could back to our Airbnb to change.

A Wedding on Ice

Transforming ourselves in 10 minutes into our thermal-powered dresses and suits, we drove the convenient 4-minute drive back to the Arctic SnowHotel & Glass Igloos complex.

It had only been a day since we were here, but it was good to be back… and just in time to catch a beautiful Arctic sunset.

We rushed into the Ice Chapel just minutes before the ceremony started. Congratulations Keseena and Dominic!

Fun Fact: after 2 years of trying, they had just gotten me to book Tomorrowland tickets for them later this summer!

After a 10-minute ceremony in -8°C conditions, we headed outside with our sparklers, took a video as the couple climbed into their reindeer chariot in even colder -18°C conditions, and ran into the Sky Bar to warm up.

We got to know the rest of the wedding party before being asked to head to the Ice Bar for some shots and a group photo.

After that, back to the Sky Bar to warm up again and meet more friends of friends. Then by 7pm we were asked to begin our dinner in the Ice Restaurant.

Loved the roasted elk:

And their desserts are served on a frozen snowflake. I then realized everything — the table, the dishes, the walls, the restaurant itself — but the food, glassware and utensils was made out of ice. And yes, we dined for an hour in -8°C.

To prove this, our water in our drinking glasses began forming pretty snowflake designs by the end of dinner:

After dinner we returned to the Sky Bar and waited for the hotel to set up Kota Restaurant for the wedding after-party.

They provided some fun activities including a Polaroid camera, wigs and masks, and old-school fountain pens with parchment paper to write cards with.

Congratulations to the couple!

After watching their speeches and a little bit of dancing, we headed back home at 11pm to use the hot tub. It was so cold outside that the hot tub that was supposed to be 40°C was 29°C the entire time. Even the sauna struggled.

- At time of posting in Rovaniemi, it was -16 °C - Humidity: 87% | Wind Speed: 1km/hr | Cloud Cover: cloudy and ICE COLD

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The Coolest Hotel in Lapland (Literally)

Calvin Sun — Sat, 07 Feb 2026 20:24:54 +0000

After sneaking in some sugar donuts just in time before Kahvila Lohihovi Oy closed at 5pm, we continued our 2 hour drive south from Ylläs to the Arctic SnowHotel & Glass Igloos, about 30 minutes north of Rovaniemi on the shores of Lake Lehtojärvi.

Finland’s Arctic SnowHotel is one of the largest snow and ice hotels in the world, and what makes it special is that it’s completely rebuilt from scratch every year. Starting in November, snow cannons blanket the area until artists and builders carve out an entirely new hotel by December 15th — that means new rooms, new sculptures, new themes, only for it all to melt away by spring. Every season is a one-time experience.

The property also includes 39 heated glass igloos with 360-degree glass roofs and a built-in aurora alarm that wakes you up when the northern lights appear. On-site you’ll find an Ice Bar, an Ice Restaurant, an Ice Chapel, a snow sauna, an outdoor jacuzzi, and three regular restaurants. It’s a family adventure packed into one compound by a frozen lake.

We parked outside reception and checked in, where we got a thorough 20-minute orientation at the desk followed by a mandatory 20-minute safety briefing for those staying in the snow hotel.

The snow hotel is essentially a room carved out of a block of ice with nothing but a hole for oxygen, and they need to make sure you know how to sleep overnight in sub-freezing temperatures without dying, as well as where the emergency bunkbeds are in case anyone wants to bail. The rooms sit at a constant 0 to -5°C regardless of what is happening outside, and they provide high-quality sleeping bags rated for the conditions. Only one night is recommended for obvious reasons.

All of this was happening in the middle of our buffet dinner at reception that got emptied out within seconds . . .

. . . when we got thankfully interrupted: an impromptu aurora sighting outside.

And they were brilliant. The brightest I’ve ever seen since Greenland, and a first for everyone else in the group.

We stayed out for a good half hour watching them dance before they dimmed and started blending in to look like clouds.

We then finished dinner and took a self-guided tour around the property.

We weren’t allowed into the Snow Hotel after 9pm as that’s when guests who booked those rooms settle in for their night of survival (that would be Sampson and Shirley), so instead we ordered some shots at the Ice Bar.

They serve drinks in real ice shot glasses here and encourage you to throw them against the wall after taking your shot.

Then we walked over to peek at the Ice Chapel, where my friend Keseena was going to get married in 2 days . . .

2 days later:

. . . and the Ice Restaurant where the wedding dinner would take place afterward.

Dining at Ice Restaurant 2 days later during the wedding, we loved the roasted elk:

To prove this, our water in our drinking glasses began forming pretty snowflake designs by the end of dinner:

Outside the hotel we walked past the outdoor snow sauna . . .

. . . .then past their restaurant/bar called Sky Bar…

…. which is connected to Kota Restaurant …

… and warmed up at their “lean-to” fireplace next to some Mongolians tending the fire and cooking sausages.

Half an hour later we turned in to enjoy our night in the glass igloos under the northern lights, while Sampson and Shirley began their night of survival in their ice hotel room.

The Morning After

We woke up to winter wonderland paradise the next morning after 9 hours of sleep and watched the sunrise through the glass ceiling.

By 10:00am we peeled ourselves off our mechanized beds and headed to the hotel’s included breakfast before it ended at 10:30am. Shirley and Sampson emerged next, and alive, and with the hotel’s sleeping bags and their outerwear, they said they actually enjoyed the experience. They’d even snuck in a sauna session in the hotel’s guest sauna before coming to breakfast.

After a long breakfast and waiting for the lobby to clear out, we suited up, packed up, and checked out before 11am. After re-parking our car, we picked up complimentary wristbands from the ticket desk (a perk for overnight guests) and sat in on a presentation about how they rebuild the entire ice hotel every year.

Then came a full tour of all the uniquely themed ice hotel rooms that their rotating roster of artists creates each season. Again every room is different, every year a new set of designs.

Sampson and Shirley stayed in this one:

Some of them are more decked out than others, including one with its own real ice furniture.

Toilets, if you’re wondering, is shared and around the corner:

After checking out all the rooms, we headed back outside to the frozen lake where we admired some of the ice sculpting attempts, just one of the many activities this hotel offers . . .

The best ones end up on display by the Ice bar:

hmmm….

We then finally consecrated our stay by tubing down their ice slide:

Onwards to Rovaniemi!

Rovaniemi

By 1pm we got back in our car and drove 30 minutes south to Rovaniemi, the capital of Finnish Lapland. We parked in the center and as some of us picked up coffee at Café & Bar 21, the rest arranged for lunch across the street at Polar Fun, the only place in town to get hot pot. Speaking Chinese with the staff, we spent a good 3 hours eating everything they had.

By 4pm we drove 6 minutes north to Arktikum, the museum and science center that’s essentially your introduction to the Arctic.

The building itself is worth the visit: a partially underground structure with a 172-meter-long glass corridor that serves as a “Gateway to the North.” You enter from the south end and walk northward through it. The design mimics how Arctic animals burrow under snow to survive winter, with the exhibition spaces sheltered below ground level.

Inside, the Regional Museum of Lapland covers the region’s history from the Sámi people and reindeer herding culture to how the Germans razed the entire city of Rovaniemi during World War II, and how Finnish architect Alvar Aalto redesigned the city afterward in the shape of a reindeer antler.

The Arctic Centre side covers the science: northern lights animations, Arctic wildlife, and the environmental challenges facing the region. Ranked Finland’s 4th best travel attraction, and at 20 euros entry, well worth the 2 hours.

We stayed until the museum closed at 6pm, after which we drove to the Angry Birds Activity Park on the riverbank by Valtakatu Street, where we played like kids for a few moments.

Did you know Angry Birds is a Finnish invention? The game was created in 2009 by Rovio Entertainment, a company based in Espoo near Helsinki, as their 52nd game after 51 commercial failures nearly bankrupted them. Designer Jaakko Iisalo sketched some angry-looking birds without legs or wings, the team couldn’t figure out why they were so angry, then the swine flu was all over the news and someone said: “What if pigs stole their eggs?” The rest is 3-billion-downloads history.

The free outdoor park in Rovaniemi was built by Finnish playground manufacturer Lappset in 2012 and has a slingshot, climbing structures, and a flying fox, or rather, a flying bird.

Then, once I finally got the check-in instructions from our Airbnb host, who said he had a guest check out late and was making me nervous, we drove 20 minutes to a K-Market supermarket to stock up on groceries for our Airbnb, and checked into our next home for 2 nights.

We’re now settled in watching the Winter Olympics and the Snowboard Big Air final!

- At time of posting in Lehtojärvi, it was -16 °C - Humidity: 88% | Wind Speed: 1km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear

The post The Coolest Hotel in Lapland (Literally) appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Ylläs Hear Me Out

Calvin Sun — Fri, 06 Feb 2026 18:22:23 +0000

How This Trip Happened

On September 30, 2025, a monsooner named Yuhan — who’s been on many trips with me — randomly invited me to watch her favorite anime that had a surprise 2-week return to theaters: The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, originally released in 2006.

I don’t usually watch movies in theaters anymore. I certainly don’t get invited to hang out with a friend specifically to watch one; it’s been that long. I’m not that into anime. And this was an anime re-released nearly two decades after its original run, showing at Regal Cinemas Union Square, which happens to be a few blocks from where I live. The whole thing felt so random that I said yes.

After the movie, something compelled me to keep the evening going. I took Yuhan to dessert a few blocks away at Mango Mango on Astor Place, where we actually got a table (it’s usually too busy to bother waiting for). Over dessert, she told me she wasn’t interested in any of my upcoming listed monsoons, but she would come on one if it had a magical winter wonderland vibe. I thought of Finnish Lapland and pulled up some photos on my phone. She’d never heard of Lapland before. When she saw the photos she said, “That’s the one.”

I explained how my monsoons work: they’re chosen based on serendipity and chance. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. And if it was going to happen in the near future, the only time I could go was February 2026; I already had monsoons booked every single month for the next year except February.

Then on October 8, 2025 — that’s 8 days later mind you — Keseena, another monsooner, asks me if I’d be free to attend her wedding in February 2026.

When I asked where, she showed me the invitation.

It was Lapland. The Ice Chapel at the Arctic SnowHotel.

I sent it to Yuhan immediately:

Calvin: Literally days after we talked about it, I got this invitation!

Calvin: The ice chapel is in Lapland! Don’t think you can come to the wedding but looks like I’ll be in Lapland already in February! I’ll make a trip out of it. I just created the itinerary for Lapland if you’re still interested. After all, you’re the one who planted the seed last week before I got this invitation a few days later… The universe is talking again!

Yuhan: Haha Yayy I am down for Lapland!! And I am surprised because I thought you don’t attend weddings?

She’s right — I generally don’t. But when the universe arranges things like this, you don’t argue.

The Keseena Thread

And Keseena herself? She’s a result of serendipity too: maybe the most convoluted chain of coincidences I’ve ever documented on this blog.

A recap: Back in early 2018, Dave Zhou — a monsooner from my Spring 2014 Cuba and Winter 2014 Palawan trips, and one of my first guides — asked me if I could host a friend of his from Mauritius who had couchsurfed with him in Bali earlier that year. I couldn’t, given my overnight work schedule. But this mutual friend extended her NYC stay by a few days, so we ended up meeting for a quick 30-minute coffee one afternoon before she had to catch her overnight bus to DC. I teased her for leaving the city so soon before trying shisha with me at my favorite bar. Her name was Keseena.

Later that evening, I get a message from Keseena: she had missed her bus and needed an emergency place to crash. I obliged. In the course of picking her up, we ran into the friend I had just had dinner with again — in a completely different part of the city — who was with another friend who casually mentioned he’d been hanging out with Jenn, another monsooner, just one hour earlier.

I ended up hosting Keseena the next 2 nights, as if she was destined to couchsurf with me all along. And right as another potential monsooner named Esha was backing out of an upcoming trip, Keseena wondered aloud if she could take her place. As we pondered the craziness of such a last-minute decision and how we needed one more sign, the very next minute Keseena got a call from colleagues she’d worked with in South Africa, letting her know they had just arrived in Western Europe and half-heartedly joked that she should join them for the weekend.

Within the hour, Keseena booked a flight to Frankfurt and left right then and there. She met up with us in Budapest the next day.

Confused? This might come in handy:

That trip led to more trips. Those trips led to a friendship. That friendship led to Keseena meeting Dominic in Zanzibar. Zanzibar led to a long-distance relationship. The long-distance relationship led to a wedding invitation in an Ice Chapel in Finnish Lapland — landing in my inbox exactly 8 days after a girl who leapt through time planted the seed over dessert on Astor Place.

The Pattern

If this sounds familiar, it should.

2 Novembers ago, on my flight home from Rapa Nui, I chose to rewatch Interstellar for the first time in 10 years. Its story of time, love, and synchronicity — of Cooper entering a tesseract where time becomes physical, using a watch to send messages across space-time to the people he loves — resonated with how my life has unfolded. At 36,000 feet I wondered: could the serendipities in my life be echoes from my future self, or my late father, or someone yet to come, reaching back to guide me?

When I landed, still lost in that thought, I came home to a surprise: 33 friends and monsooners had spent weeks organizing a gift — the very same watch from Interstellar, designed to connect across time — arriving just as I was contemplating its meaning.

And now, barely a year later: a friend randomly invites me to a 2006 anime I had no business watching. Over dessert I show her photos of a place she’s never heard of. 8 days later I’m invited to a wedding at that exact place, during my only open month, for a bride who only exists in my world because she missed a bus 7 years ago.

And the anime? The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.

I can’t make this up. And at this point, I’ve stopped or even forgot to remind others of the pattern when trying to explain it. I just continue to pay attention.

Day 1: JFK → Paris → Helsinki

For a limited-time promotion offering 20% points back on mileage transfers, Mel and I moved 48,000 Chase Ultimate Rewards points each into Air France Flying Blue for two business class seats on their NYC to Paris route. Air France recently debuted their new hard product on this route, and at the effective cost after the points rebate, this deal felt like a no-brainer.

The logistics getting here, though, became their own adventure.

Originally I booked to be on the 17:05 EWR–CDG flight and Mel a few weeks later when she confirmed her availability on the 17:30 JFK–CDG. Two of us starting from different airports, two different departure times, arriving in Paris separately. Not ideal. I was planning to spend an afternoon calling around trying to get us on the same flight but then, 3 weeks before departure, Air France emailed me that the entire 17:05 EWR route was cancelled, and I’d been rebooked onto the 17:30 JFK departure with Mel! Same flight and row 14 on the couple’s seat right next to hers. Assigned as a couple. I can’t make this up: Trail angels strike again!

At JFK Airport we enjoyed our time before boarding. First we used our Priority Pass at the VIP One Lounge which let us skip security lines entirely, then walked over to Air France’s aging lounge in Terminal 1. I last was here when flying out for Syria, and it’s still a solid pre-flight spot with a more unique French-centered food spread compared to JFK T1’s other lounges.

We tried to get an appointment at the Clarins facial studio at the entrance, but the next available appointment was more than 2 hours later. We therefore skipped that, filled our water bottles, and boarded our flight.

After takeoff we enjoyed a thorough French meal service that included lobster tail and duck confit! The latter was so good it ranks up there with Singapore Air-quality of food on business class.

We then turned in for a solid 4 hours of sleep before breakfast greeted us on our landing in Paris.

Once arriving at CDG Terminal 2E we stamped into the EU and walked 10 minutes over to Terminal 2F to the Air France lounge.

With a 5 hour layover ahead of us and since it was super early, I found the quiet relaxation nap pods upstairs by the Clarins facial studio.

I tried (keyword: “tried”) to get about an hour of extra sleep here until the Clarins studio opened at 7:40am, where Mel and I were one of the first in line to sign up for their complimentary 20-minute facial. I then took a shower, where there’s a line for this too at the lounge.

When all the morning lines died down, I signed up for a second facial massage: That’s 2 free 20-minute face massages on a layover! Mel got hers as well as a solid 3-hour nap in our pod. By the time we boarded our early afternoon CDG–HEL flight, we were more rested than when we’d left New York.

After 3 uneventful hours in the air including a meal service with smoke salmon, we touched down in Helsinki. My first time back since 2015!

Helsinki

We grabbed our luggage and took a 20-minute Uber into the city center to check into Hobo Helsinki Hotel, which I picked for both its reviews, central location and exactly what you want for one night. Mel freshened up with a quick shower, and then we walked 4 minutes south through the Esplanadi to meet up with Shirley for dinner.

Shirley had landed 3 hours ahead of us on the JFK–HEL direct Finnair flight and was already waiting at Savoy, a landmark restaurant on the 8th floor overlooking Helsinki. We sat down for the five-course prix fixe at 136 euros per person, where Mel ordered the vegetarian version of the tasting menu at the same price.

The reindeer was stunning. Mel equally enjoyed her vegetarian courses. Every plate nailed it without us having to convince ourselves it was worth the splurge. Totally worth it. The rooftop views over Helsinki at night didn’t hurt either.

Tartar

Blini

Truffle Egg

Reindeer

Thyme sorbet

Honey ice cream

Sea Buckthorn jelly and dark chocolate

This Grand Menu on its final night did not disappoint!

After dinner, Shirley took an Uber back to her hotel by the airport while we walked back to Hobo. What a perfect setup in proximity… I gotta keep this in mind for future monsoons! Meanwhile, Sampson’s flight was getting in around midnight; he’d check in at 1am where Shirley was staying, and the two of them were planning to wake up at 5am to catch the 8am flight to Kittilä. Good luck to them and their sleep.

Helsinki → Kittilä → Ylläs

Although Mel and I slept a whopping uninterrupted 10 hours, we woke up later than expected at 8:40am. So we scrambled our packing and headed down to the second floor for Hobo Helsinki’s complimentary (and very thorough) breakfast. Glad we squeezed some time into it as I couldn’t get enough of the egg butter, karelian pies, and pea protein frikadelles.

We had about 15 minutes at breakfast before hailing a 30-minute Uber to the airport to make it before check-in closed at 10:10am. In the Uber I suddenly realized I’d left my headphones in the hotel room. I was more annoyed at myself than worried, as our itinerary had me returning to Helsinki in 6 days anyway for a full morning’s layover anyway. I later called the hotel, they emailed back confirming they found them, and said they’d hold onto them in the back room until I returned. Problem solved before it was even a problem!

At the airport by 10:00am, we went to check in and discovered we could’ve spent a few more hours at Hobo relaxing, maybe even using their second-floor gym, because as of 9:56am our 11:10am HEL–KTT flight had been cancelled!

We were immediately rebooked to the 1:10pm flight, which was two flights ahead of the cancelled one. I asked the agent if we could be rebooked to the one in between, leaving at 12:25pm, instead. She initially said no: Fully booked. We therefore took our 1:10pm tickets and started walking away when the agent came back: she might be able to find us seats on the 12:25pm flight after all.

She trashed our 1:10pm tickets, took us to the customer service desk, and got us onto the “full” 12:25pm flight on standby seating. We thanked her, charmed our way through Priority security by flashing an Amex Platinum Card (although they initially denied it saying I needed to be a Nordic Amex cardholder, they made an exception for us), and settled into the Aspire Lounge on Priority Pass to wait it out.

By 11:50am we walked over to board the 12:25pm flight, only to find out it was delayed to 1:10pm. LOL. And the originally scheduled 1:10pm flight was bumped a measly 25 minutes to 1:35pm.

Then they assigned our seats: 2D and 2F at the front, right next to each other. No middle seat on this Embraer. Didn’t even feel like a “full flight” for us.

And here’s the thing: the flight we were rebooked onto turned out to be the same flight Yuhan was on. Instead of arriving separately as originally planned, three of us landed together as a group. The universe has its ways of forcing order where it could, again and again and again.

Kittilä → Ylläs

An hour later we disembarked on the tarmac at KTT without a jet bridge, letting the cold hit us in the face the moment we stepped off the plane. Welcome to Lapland!

The car rental office was conveniently right by baggage claims, so we picked up our booking and headed back outside into the cold wintry parking lot where we found our vehicle: a 9-person Ford with two rows of three seats facing each other. I’ve only ever seen this setup in UberXLs in Amsterdam. Oddly social for a rental car and perfect for us!

Yuhan drove us 30 minutes north to Ylläs, where Sampson and Shirley had already gotten in a few ski runs that morning.

As we approached the ski resort of Ylläs, it looked like a magical lighthouse to a different world.

Shirley was already waiting outside Saaga Hotel with keys — she’d picked them up earlier at the Taiga Restaurant across the ski resort parking lot where the hosts had left them — and greeted us as we pulled in. Then came the part that felt like an Escape Room activity: finding Parking Site 6.

Our Airbnb chalet instructions said to park at Parking Site 6. Saaga Hotel didn’t know where that was. The corner shop at the base of our chalet didn’t know. And there was no map, as the signage was obliterated by ice and snow. We narrowed down which chalet was ours by testing whether the keys worked on the door, then worked backwards from there to locate the correct parking area. After some circling and a few wrong turns, we parked, unloaded, and checked into our two chalets.

After settling in, Mel took a nap. Then at 6:30pm, four out of five of us walked over to Saaga Hotel for their 34-euro buffet dinner; Shirley stayed behind for the sauna included in every chalet, because this is Finland and there are probably more saunas than people. The hotel was connected by a very well thought-out second-floor walkway right next to one of our chalet rooms. We didn’t even have to bundle up!

At dinner the four of us talked about northern lights, aurora borealis forecasts, how to actually find them on this trip, while soaking in ski lodge vibes in one of the most northern inhabited places on the planet.

And now we’re about to go to bed. The nicest possible start to a trip.

Skiing at Ylläs

The next morning we packed up after a late rise at 9:30am, right before checkout and just after sunrise, and both Yuhan and I quickly grabbed rentals and lift tickets downstairs for a 3 hour window at the rental shop by Saaga Hotel. All for 50 euros each!

We then walked over to drop off the Airbnb keys and had breakfast at Taiga Restaurant when it opened for food at noon. After a quick lunch over variations of reindeer kebabs, Yuhan and I headed out to ski for 2 hours while the rest of the group relaxed at Saaga Hotel. That’s all you need to explore all of the south side of Ylläs.

My first time skiing in Europe! Pleasant, quaint, and so well groomed for such a great value. The top of Ylläs offers majestic views that alone made the 50 euros for 3 hours worth it.

The runs felt more like racetracks than actual slopes; I was able to comfortably hit 61 mph (according to the Slopes app) without any fear of wiping out. Or maybe it was the Fischer All Mountain 80 skis they rented me… ‘cuz I’m more used to the Volkl Deacons 84 when I rent in the States.

After 2 hours we had enough and Yuhan and I pleasantly skied directly to the rental shop by Saaga Hotel to drop them off. So convenient. And our group was waiting for us just next door, paces away, in the lobby of Saaga Hotel.

One last group photo before leaving Ylläs!

Along the 2-hour drive south to our next stop at the Arctic SnowHotel, we stopped an hour in at Kahvila Lohihovi Oy for their famous sugar donuts right on time and about 6 minutes before they closed at 5pm.

- At time of posting in Yllas, it was -9 °C - Humidity: 80% | Wind Speed: 2km/hr | Cloud Cover: cloudy

The post Ylläs Hear Me Out appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Sundance’s Last Dance: Park City, UT

Calvin Sun — Wed, 28 Jan 2026 02:12:26 +0000

Once again we’re gathering friends across time zones and milestones; some have flown in from Philly, others from NYC, one flying over from Dallas just for the weekend to make new friends, all converging together this week on a mountain town for a week of skiing, films, and meals that stretch past midnight: a reunion of 8 monsooners (plus late addition Elena making 9) who’ve traveled together everywhere from Killington to Yemen, now finding ourselves in Utah during Sundance’s final year.

Day 0, January 19

Susan was the first of us, arriving a day ahead on January 18th to get some skiing in and conveniently staying at an Airbnb next door (so she needed only a minute to wal over to ours for afternoon check-in.) The rest of us landed in Salt Lake City airport in waves throughout the evening on the 19th with Olga from Philly and the rest from NYC. Our connecting flight to SLC from Denver was delayed by three hours so instead of having them wait on Mel and me, Mel transferred our car rental reservation to Olga’s name, who had already just landed. Olga, Olivia, and Eric then dove headfirst through the gauntlet of independently-run predatory car rentals without us.

While they navigated through an unexpected mess at rentals and eventually drove to our Empire Avenue house (a four-bedroom gem with hot tub, plus a secret fifth futon room tucked between the laundry and garage in the basement that gave us even more space). The location was walking distance to Park City Mountain Resort’s base, nestled in Old Town’s grid of mining-era streets that now house million-dollar properties.

Mel and I landed late at 7pm and Ubered the 40 minutes (and $41!) from SLC to Park City where hot pot broth and ingredients were already waiting to feed us.

As we got ready to unpack and eat, Park City’s Legacy Rentals came by to deliver and fit my ski equipment right to the house. Celebrating the convenience and time saved, we then hopped in the hot tub as Bruce and Amanda, flying in late from different airports but arriving at the same time, rented another car and joined us right before midnight to complete our ski/snowboard group.

Day 1, January 20

Our first day started early for the ski crew as I woke up to the sounds of excited new friends getting ready for their first day on the slopes.

Roughing it through our altitude headache (easily fixed at 7000 feet above sea level with a vasoconstricting cup of coffee for the most of us) Bruce, Amanda, Olivia, Olga, and I walked out only minutes from our conveniently located Airbnb to explore Park City’s massive terrain, skiing from the Park City base all the way over to Canyons side. For those of you who didn’t know, Park City and Cayons had merged in 2015 to create the largest ski area in the United States, covering 7300 acres connected by the Quicksilver and Timberline Gondolas. We were therefore determined to explore as much terrain as possible.

Amanda and Olivia signed up for a morning group lesson before meeting us for lunch at Tombstone BBQ (which would become our default mid-mountain stop for the next 2 days), while Eric bought skis at the resort before joining us that afternoon.

As slopes began to close by the mid afternoon, I left my rental skis overnight at Park City’s valet for a small $5 fee, which I thought was totally worth it.

Back at the house, Mel took it easy all day while Susan worked remotely. Once we were all home, Bruce repurposed leftover hot pot meat and veggies into curry for dinner, then settled in for a back to back screening of K-Pop Demon Hunters and Sinners. It would be Olga’s first exposure to K-Pop!

Day 2, January 21

…was a repeat on slight variations: Amanda, Olivia, and Mel took an overflowing morning group ski class while Bruce, Olga, Eric, and I spent half a day skiing Park City to Canyons again.

We then met for another lunch at Tombstone BBQ before skiing back to Park City base. Susan finished her work day just in time for the four of us, Susan, Bruce, Olivia, and me, to peel ourselves out of the hot tub and drive an hour out to Brighton for night skiing.

Brighton, one of the original ‘local’ resorts in Big Cottonwood Canyon, runs night operations until 9pm on 3 lifts serving a limited set of blue and green trails under floodlights and stars.

As the slopes closed officially at 9pm, we returned home to Bruce’s pre-made pasta bolognese sauce for dinner.

Day 3, January 22

Mel and I slept in, Olivia set out for another morning class, Susan worked, and Olga, Eric and Bruce went skiing and snowboarding for first tracks. I eventually headed out to the mountain to join Eric, Bruce, and Olga, gravitating toward my favorite terrain: groomed blacks and steeper blues around McConkey’s Pass.

We then found a catwalk off the blue Georgeanna slope to have lunch at Mid-Mountain Restaurant, our new favorite spot on Park City’s resort. Located mid-mountain (obviously) at 8,700 feet, it serves quality rotisserie chicken and poké bowls rather than the typical ski resort cafeteria grub. Olivia joined us post-class.

After skiing McConkey’s groomed blacks a bit more, Bruce and Olivia headed home for another round of night skiing at Brighton, while Eric stayed back to teach me more technical technique work with a free one-on-one lesson. My bladder then called it earlier than usual, where I headed back early to rest and thrift shopping in the neighborhood.

Remarkably I found some great ski pants to replace the 17 year old ones I was wearing at the thrift shop, as well as befriending the clerk there who then walked out to show Bruce, the tattoo’ed future orthopedic surgeon, x-rays of her recent healing humeral head fracture and her own tattoo over the surgical scar: her incision was turned into art as a skier forever carving down her shoulder. We then returned home ready for hot pot round two and the latest episode of The Pitt, followed by episodes of Fallout and Soulmates.

While Olivia and I stayed back this time, Bruce and Susan returned from night skiing around midnight, and we stayed up talking until past midnight.

Day 4, January 23

While the ski crew headed out, Bruce slept in and Amanda, Mel, and I drove through the brutal Sundance traffic and 15 minutes onwards to Deer Valley later in the morning.

As Amanda and I explored the fancy pants of Deer Valley on skis (Amandav totally would fit in in her Montcler onesie), Mel enjoyed the famous après scene at the local St. Regis (including taking its funicular up to the Vintage Room!). Deer Valley is famously upscale with no snowboarders allowed, only 2026 acres compared to Park City’s 7300, tissue boxes for those sniffles on every lift line, and every trail is meticulously groomed nightly. The St. Regis funicular also runs 220 feet up the mountainside, delivering guests to the Vintage Room where a glass of champagne can cost what a lift ticket does at some resorts.

My cousin Gilbert, an ophthalmologist based in Salt Lake City whom I hadn’t seen since his wedding there in 2009 (16 years!), then came by with his 13-year-old son Chris to ski with us. They made it to us just in time after Amanda and I had skied directly from the Deer Hollow trail to the Vintage Room for her glass of champagne.

After catching up by the fire, Amanda stayed with Mel, while Gilbert, Chris and I tackled moguls at Deer Valley.

I’ve always bombed down moguls, in trust-my-luck kamikaze-style and remarkably without ever wiping out, but Gilbert taught me to carve on top of bumps rather than carve through them. But the only way is through?

Then on a chairlift at 3:45pm, exactly 2 hours before the 5:45pm screening, I pulled out my phone and joined the waitlist for the Sundance premiere screening of “American Doctor.” Despite registering the moment the waitlist button became available, my numbers came back at 261 and 265. Sundance’s waitlist system felt brutal (probably because it’s in its final year?); general admission tickets sold out in minutes and the waitlist became the only option for most screenings. You have to register exactly 2 hours before showtime, get assigned a number, then show up 30+ minutes early to queue in numerical order. No-shows from ticket holders mean waitlist numbers slowly get called. It’s a gamble every time.

Detaching myself from any expectations, we then skied until 3pm, grabbed chips at Deer Valley’s Snow Park restaurant with Mel and Amanda, then headed back to Park City while Gilbert and Chris returned to Salt Lake City.

Loading ourselves back in the car, Amanda dropped Mel and me at the waitlist line before heading back to the house, where Mel and I reunited with Bruce and Olga already in the waitlist line for “American Doctor.” We showed up late at 27 minutes before the 3:45pm screening, and got redirected to the back. And yet somehow, we still got in!

While getting off the waitlist line, we ran into Lillian Lin, a monsooner I hadn’t seen since our Barcelona/Andorra trip in September 2016.

We also befriended a film/TV lawyer next to us in line who, impossibly, lived a few blocks from us in the same Manhattan neighborhood. Monsoon serendipities always happen in pairs!

As for the movie itself, there was not a dry eye in the room by the time it was over. American Doctor follows American physician volunteers working in Gaza, documenting the humanitarian crisis through the eyes of doctors who chose to go. The footage is unflinching; our physicians operating with headlamps as the hospital is being bombed, pediatric trauma patients are treated without anesthesia, and healthcare workers become treated as enemies outside their work.

All of the featured doctors were there for the Q&A and one of them, Thaer Ahmad, happened to be an ER physician as well. Even better, Thaer knew Hussein Ahmad, a mutual friend and yet-to-be aspiring monsooner who’s an ER doctor a few years below me in training.

Mark Perlmutter, the Jewish orthopedic surgeon featured in the film, had a moment with Bruce, the aspiring orthopedic surgeon and fourth-year medical student whose match day is in two months. Bruce was sneaking in remote residency interviews during this trip, so meeting Perlmutter in this context (and knowing Bruce’s politics) felt serendipitous and made experiencing Sundance in its final year feel even more significant.

From the Ray Theater, we then frogged over a 6 lane avenue to grab wine for Elena (who had just flown in from Dallas that evening) at one of Utah’s many state-run liquor stores in Park City; you can’t get wine anywhere else here like you can in other states. Bruce then stayed behind to meet up with Susan to watch the animated shorts program thanks to tickets acquired by Sujay, another monsooner in the area (who’s been on a few trips with Bruce, Olivia, Susan, and me already), and his friend who’s a Sundance member. Amanda got a waitlist ticket for “Public Access,” Mel and I uber’ed back to the house to finally meet Elena in person, and saw how she bonded immediately with my college friend Olga, who also happened to be Russian and Russian-speaking. Another pair of coincidences for a monsoon!

Back at the house, we cooked whatever hot pot ingredients remained and I realized it was my first real meal of the day.

Then came the curveball: we were seeing news reports converging on confirming this massive winter storm that was bearing down on the Midwest and East Coast, threatening 12+ inches of snow in NYC. Olivia and Amanda therefore then decided to move their flights up a day, leaving the next morning. What was supposed to be our second-to-last night together became an unexpected early goodbye.

Day 5, January 24

The end begins. Olivia woke in the middle of the night at 4am to catch a scheduled Uber for her 7am flight, making it back to NYC just before the storm hit, while Amanda caught her 11am flight without issue. Elena set out for Sundance screenings, and Olga, Eric, and Susan headed out to ski Park City with me joining them and Sujay later in the afternoon. Bruce took the day off for ortho residency interviews and to catch-up on medical school errands.

The goal was to get to the Viking Yurt at the top of the Crescent Express lift to eat one of their famous Macadamia nut cookies that Eric said “was the best cookie I’ve ever had . . . Michelin star cookie,” but sadly thanks to some brutal moguls above Bonanza Express, we were not able to get back up before the lifts closed at 4pm.

Heading home, I noticed how things can happen in pairs when my personal ophthalmologist, Yuna (just like my cousin Gilbert!), reached out to hang out with us that afternoon . . . but then nothing’s that perfect as she sadly got sidetracked by a movie. Sujay stilled joined the remaining few of us that stayed in for the night and put on Knives Out: Wake Up Dead Man as well as a re-watch of The Pitt’s latest episode for Elena.

I then ended my day joining Elena, Susan, Eric and Bruce in the hot tub before calling it and packing my things.

Day 6, January 25

We woke up to the last of the remaining items of the fridge where we actually finished all our food! As Elena skipped breakfast to catch her Uber to the airport, we took a final group photo together.

We then checked out of the Airbnb by 10am, loaded the cars, and as Bruce, Susan and Eric went to ski, Olga, Mel and I walked towards Main Street to get as much Sundance Film Festival in its last year.

We first stepped into the United Airlines-hosted lounge at Sundance, handing out free coffee, breakfast, and protein bar snacks after checking in at the kiosk (no need to be a United member to visit). These corporate lounges are Sundance’s thing; luxury brands take over storefronts on Main Street during the festival, offering free food, drinks, and celebrity sightings in exchange for brand visibility.

We also signed up for their afternoon panel hosted by Portraits about marketing your film while still in production, and how to secure the best IP rights from a story.

Then back out onto Main Street to explore some more, namely my favorite, the Chase Sapphire Reserve lounge (available only to cardmembers and a guest). The lounge occupied a makeshift steel tent and a two-story building on Main Street, ostensibly to be a space where deals could get made during Sundance.

Charming my way to letting in both of my guests, the 3 of us relaxed in the tent as we enjoyed watching the Q&A panel for the film Leviticus, and the “brunch” in the form of hors d’oujvres afterwards. After I registered for Apple Music via the Chase Reserve membership at the front desk in this area, they gifted me an Apple MagSafe Wallet that clipped onto my phone.

The lounge was split in 3 other parts, 1 of them being the panel area with another café serving coffee, and the other being a restaurant serving different milk lattes and hot chocolate variations. They were also handing out a limited set of Chase Sapphire Reserve-branded YETI mugs in this area.

After an hour here, we then walked across the street to go upstairs to the Audible lounge where they were serving hot pocket arepas and hosted a listening station for different audiobooks.

We then returned onto Main Street where I reunited with Lillian and headed back to the United lounge for the afternoon panel we had signed up for.

After the panel, Mel, Olga and I walked over to the main festival hub for some souvenir shopping.

By then it was 3:30pm. Bruce, Eric, and Susan had just finished their time on the slopes with Susan’s friends and we traded our goodbyes at the Park City resort parking lot (as well as Eric getting me a pack of those famous Viking Yurt cookies he was raving about). While Eric and Olga drove off to their own onward accommodations, Bruce, Susan, Mel and I drove to the AC Marriott Downtown, where we quickly changed to have dinner with Gilbert and his family at Matteo restaurant 4 minutes away from the hotel.

We then attended his other son Nathan’s orchestral concert with the Utah Youth Symphony. I relived music school all over again after listening to Nathan and his orchestra pay all 4 movements from Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 2.

After the concert was done, I treated my extended family a post-concert dessert and dinner at the Cheesecake Factory downtown before Mel and I called it a night.

Day 7, January 26

Time to return home! We had been prepared to stay another night into January 27 if the winter storm would cancel our flights, but luckily everything ran on time and on schedule. By the time I returned, I was like “what winter storm?”

After coffee and brunch with Bruce at Skillets and getting dropped off at SLC airport, we waited about half an hour to get into the new Amex Centurion Lounge. This lounge opened months ago in October 2025 as part of Salt Lake City’s massive terminal renovation, featuring 10,000 square feet of space, a full bar, and sit-down restaurant service. Our wait time suggested how many people now have premium credit cards these days.

Afterwards Mel and I flew to Chicago where we barely had a few minutes to make our final return flight home to NYC.

What made this trip work was the way 9 people with different reasons for coming managed to bond without forcing it. Some skied every day while others worked remotely, some took morning group lessons while others slept in, and half of us went night skiing while the rest stayed back for movies. We cooked hot pot twice, got off Sundance waitlists multiple times, had family reunions on the mountain, and somehow got involved with two ophthalmologists in the same week.

Underneath all of it was the thing that’s kept monsoons going for 15 years: coming through for one another across time zones and life stages, cooking late-night meals, staying up talking when we should be sleeping, and remembering that maybe sometimes, the best trips are the ones where everything flows together effortlessly.

And not even less than 12 hours later the next morning after our arrival, Amanda and I would run into each other back home in the city; the trip never ends!

- At time of posting in Park City, UT, it was -6 °C - Humidity: 55% | Wind Speed: 13km/hr | Cloud Cover: bluebird days!

The post Sundance’s Last Dance: Park City, UT appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet the Lappi Wedding Party!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 26 Jan 2026 20:11:04 +0000

How This Trip Happened

Then on October 8, 2025 — that’s 8 days later mind you — Keseena, another monsooner, asks me if I’d be free to attend her wedding in February 2026.

When I asked where, she showed me the invitation.

It was Lapland. The Ice Chapel at the Arctic SnowHotel.

I sent it to Yuhan immediately:

Calvin: Literally days after we talked about it, I got this invitation!

Calvin: The ice chapel is in Lapland! Don’t think you can come to the wedding but looks like I’ll be in Lapland already in February! I’ll make a trip out of it. I just created the itinerary for Lapland if you’re still interested. After all, you’re the one who planted the seed last week before I got this invitation a few days later… The universe is talking again!

Yuhan: Haha Yayy I am down for Lapland!! And I am surprised because I thought you don’t attend weddings?

She’s right — I generally don’t. But when the universe arranges things like this, you don’t argue.

The Keseena Thread

And Keseena herself? She’s a result of serendipity too: maybe the most convoluted chain of coincidences I’ve ever documented on this blog.

Within the hour, Keseena booked a flight to Frankfurt and left right then and there. She met up with us in Budapest the next day.

Confused? This might come in handy:

The Pattern

If this sounds familiar, it should.

And the anime? The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.

I can’t make this up. And at this point, I’ve stopped or even forgot to remind others of the pattern when trying to explain it. I just continue to pay attention.

Mel “Monsooner” Jeng, 7 time monsooner returning from Park City, Caribbean At World’s End, Extreme NE America, Bhutan, Crete and Le Tren Bleu
Sampson “Puffin Sniper” Lau, 6 time monsooner to Syria, Svalbard, Australia, The Pacific Coast Highway, Vancouver, and Sardinia!
Yuhan “Chief Barista Officer” Lee: 6 time monsooner returning from Spain Tip to Tip, Easter Island, Tomorrowland, The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse and The Greek Epic
Melissa “Employee Discount” Rios: 2 time monsooner returning from Tomorrowland 2025 and Isle-land of Man
Keseena “The Bride” Chengadu: returning from Central Europe

Introducing our newest generation of monsooners:

Calvin "Castles in the Sky" Sun - Expedition Leader | Emergency Physician | NYC

Sampson "Apalca" Lau - Returning Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica), Winter '17 (Australia) | Mountain View, CA | Engineer

Melissa “Employee Discount” Rios - Return Monsooner: Jul. '25 (Tomorrowland), May '19 (Isle-land of Man) | Associate Product Manager, Adobe | Santa Clara, CA

Keseena "The Bride" Chengadu: Return Monsooner: Mar. '18 (Central Europe)

Mel "The Wifey" Jeng - Return Monsooner: Jan. '26 (Park City), Oct '25. (Caribbean), Sept. '25 (Extreme NE America), Jul. '24 (Le Tren Bleu), Jul. '23 (Crete) | NYC

YuHan "BesFren" Lee - Return Monsooner: Nov. '24 (Easter Island), Jul. '24 (Tomorrowland), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | Brooklyn, NY

Shirley "Xanga" Chu - Queens, NY

And where we’re actually monsooning in 2 weeks:

Skiing Yllas in Lapland

Snow Igloos!

View from the Snow Igloos

Lapland

Santa Claus Village

Want to join us? More details about the trip can be found here: FEBRUARY 2026

The post Meet the Lappi Wedding Party! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet the Sundancers!

Calvin Sun — Fri, 02 Jan 2026 21:19:49 +0000

From a trip planned over a year ago after a bunch of friends joined me in Killington 2024, we are flying out to Park City, UT for our first time at the Sundance Film Festival for their final time in Park City, UT! Welcome back those returning with me for their 2nd, 5th, or even 8th monsoon:

Bruce “The Prodigal Son” Zhang: 5 time monsooner from Killington, Yemen, Hokkaido, Svalbard, The Faroe Islands and the French Polynesia!
Mel “Monsooner” Jeng, 5 time monsooner returning from Caribbean At World’s End, Extreme NE America, Bhutan, Crete and Le Tren Bleu
Amanda “Pink Pony Club” Thai, 2 time monsooner returning from returning from Killington 2025 and Tomorrowland 2025
Olivia “The Origin Story” Ho, 2 time monsooner returning from Killington 2025 and Okemo 2024
Susan “The Former Premed” Chor, returning from Okemo 2024

And in the area around the same time:

Sujay “Chief Siesta Officer” Sheth: 8 time monsooner returning from Tomorrowland 2024, The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse, The Greek Epic, South Korea, Svalbard, Vancouver and Sardinia

Introducing our newest generation of monsooners:

Calvin "Castles in the Sky" Sun - Expedition Leader | Emergency Physician | NYC

Susan "The Former Premed" Chor - Finance | New York, NY

Olga "Columbia Blue" Lepigina - Quantitative Investment Strategist, Vanguard | Philadelphia, PA

Eric "East Side Reppin'" Tam - Physiatrist/PMR Physician | New York, NY

Sujay "Chief Siesta Officer" Sheth - Return Monsooner: Jul. '25 (Amsterdam and Berlin), Jul. '24 (Tomorrowland), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '23 (South Korea & Jeju), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Feb. '22 (Whistler), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica) | Radiologist | Chicago

Mel "The Wifey" Jeng - Return Monsooner: Oct '25. (Caribbean), Sept. '25 (Extreme NE America), Jul. '24 (Le Tren Bleu), Jul. '23 (Crete) | NYC

Bruce "The Prodigal Son Returns" Zhang - Return Monsooner: Dec. '25 (Killington), Nov. '25 (Yemen), Feb. '23 (Hokkaido), Aug. '22 (Faroe Islands), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia) | NYC | Medical Scribe

Amanda "Pink Pony Club" Thai - Return Monsooner: Jan. '26 (Park City), Dec. '25 (Killington), July '25 (Tomorrowland) | Product Specialist | NYC

Olivia "The Origin Story" Ho - Return Monsooner: Dec. '25 (Killington), Dec. '24 (Okemo) | Surgical PA | New York, NY

Elena Adushkina - Dallas, TX

And where we’re actually monsooning in 2 weeks:

Park City, UT

Sundance's last year in Park City!

Want to join us? More details about the trip can be found here: JANUARY 2026

The post Meet the Sundancers! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Niger At Last: A Second Chance

Calvin Sun — Wed, 10 Dec 2025 05:41:23 +0000

11 months ago, I sat on the tarmac in Niger’s International Airport at Niamey, watching my trip evaporate due to visa complications. The Niger Embassy in Washington D.C. had stopped issuing visas to Americans entirely.

But I don’t give up. In late October 2025, I reconnected with Culture Road’s founder, Rik Brinks and their local contact Yaou of Zenith Travel, securing ministerial support for Niger’s new (and therefore super untested) tourism-based visa on arrival. The conversation was remarkably straightforward:

October 28, 2025 – WhatsApp exchange:

Yaou: “Send me your dates.”
Me: “My dates are December 7-9, arriving midnight at 12:05am (late night December 7, beginning of the day of December 8). Departing December 9 at 15:10.”
Yaou: “Ok”

That was it! No document requests, embassy appointments, or three-month processing times. Just confirming dates. Within a month, I got my visa on arrival authorization in a PDF document via What’sApp:

November 1, 2025 – The gamechanging question:

Me: “So this means our Visa on arrival is confirmed? I heard from prior months that it’s not always 100% reliable, unless recently it got better?”
Yaou: “Yes, there has been a change. The Minister of Tourism supported our request within the tourism framework. Since then, we have started receiving visas, albeit at a slow, not accelerated, pace. This is a sign of improvement, and we hope it will continue in the right direction.”

Approved tour operators can apparently now secure visa on arrival authorization through the Ministry of Tourism. It’s still not advertised publicly or guaranteed forever…but I guess if this post exists, then it works.

I still had two active visa applications pending: one at the Washington D.C. embassy (which no longer processes American applications) and one at Copenhagen. Yaou’s advice, however: “You can tell Copenhagen and Washington, D.C., not to follow up on your application; you already have the visa.”

November 4, 2025 – Flight change: Turkish Airlines then moved my midnight arrival to an overnight flight (ughhh) and therefore morning landing at 6:05am on December 8.

One WhatsApp message to Yaou. “Ok no probleme.. noted.”

The Route: Cairo → Vienna → Istanbul → Niamey

After saying goodbye to Bruce in Cairo following our day at the new Grand Egyptian Museum and our week in Yemen (where we stumbled upon what will likely become the world’s next newest country right as it all went down), I boarded a mid-afternoon flight to Vienna.

The Moxy Airport Vienna, conveniently next door to the terminal, provided a quick overnight before my 6am Turkish Airlines flight to Istanbul.

Route breakdown:

Cairo (CAI) → Vienna (VIE): [flight details]
Overnight: Moxy Airport Vienna
Vienna (VIE) → Istanbul (IST): Turkish Airlines Business Class, early morning departure
Istanbul layover: 13 hours
Istanbul (IST) → Niamey (NIM): TK 635, departure 1:10am
Arrive at 7:00am local time.

The Turkish Airlines Business Lounge at Istanbul Airport has become my de facto office for long layovers. Thirteen hours sounds excessive, but it doesn’t compare to the 28 hours I once spent at this same airport heading to Mali. Time passed quickly as I used their reliable WiFi to catch up on blog posts and binge A House of Dynamite on Netflix.

I also created an unasked-for scavenger hunt looking for a lost hoodie I though I misplaced on a side couch in the lounge upon arrival. After a few hours retracing my steps, I found it on a random dining table (which I forgot I had temporarily considered to settle down at) just before boarding to Niamey.

Drama at the Gate

At Concourse B, the gate agent examined Yaou’s visa on arrival letter with visible confusion. “I’ve never seen this before,” she said, holding the paper at various angles as if perspective might clarify things. After several minutes texting a supervisor on WhatsApp and photographing my letter, she let me sit inside the gate while we waited for final approval. When boarding began, she was already about to scan passengers behind the gate desk before she spotted me: “Oops, my bad. You’re fine. I just never seen that before. You can board.”

Unlike eleven months ago when this same flight to N’Djamena required boarding a bus that drove us in circles before a false alarm forced a second attempt at this hour, this time we boarded efficiently through an actual gate and jet bridge. Progress.

TK 635 to Niamey and onward to N’Djamena takes approximately six hours before the Niamey stop. I managed about five hours of fragmented sleep, which was better than last year’s attempt and therefore better than nothing. And just like last time, most passengers continued to N’Djamena; only a handful of us deplaned in Niamey.

The Arrival Gauntlet

We arrived thirty minutes ahead of schedule, though the time savings evaporated in this gauntlet of disembarkation. Passengers immediately encountered a woman stationed at the aircraft door on the jet bridge, examining passports before allowing anyone to proceed.

And then behind her, a line of soldiers inspected documents.

Again: show passport, VOA letter, receive a little of skepticism, and proceed.

Downstairs at immigration, I filled out an entry form before approaching a desk. After several minutes of fingerprint scanning, the officer took my VOA and passport to a senior officer two desks down. This is where things got interesting.

Over the next thirty minutes, the senior officer asked:

“Call the person retrieving you.”
[After I reached both Yaou and my guide Harouna via What’sApp on Google Fi (the airport WiFi was much slower), the officer spoke to Harouna] “Come inside.”
[After Harouna explained he wasn’t permitted inside] “Let me speak with the officer at the exit.”
Then a text from Harouna: “I got a pass to come inside.”

Minutes later, Harouna appeared at passport control to vouch for me in person. Several other VOA holders, mostly engineers and contractors, had their contacts retrieve them first. I was the last VOA holder remaining. Once we were alone, the senior officer asked about my profession. I explained I’m a physician visiting as a tourist. His next question then caught me off guard: “What would it take for you to stay longer in Niger and live here?”

I spent all this effort getting in as if you never wanted me, and now you want me to stay forever? I responded by asking if there were openings for doctors. He gave genuine, warm laughter: “Welcome to Niger.”

The stamp came down. But per Niger’s regulations, he would retain my physical passport for final processing, providing me instead with a paper slip I’d need to retrieve my passport later that day at another office in Niamey.

I walked out of the airport without my passport, trusting a system I’d never encountered before, to explore a country that had rejected my visa attempt eleven months earlier.

After 11 months, I finally set foot in country #192.

Driving into early morning Niamey, I noted signs of development: red-yellow-green stoplights that work, giant water tanks to capture fresh rainwater for its citizens, and regular civilians (or at least people in civilian clothes) casually working out and jogging on the street. 11 months ago outside N’Djamena’s airport, I’d seen only military troops jogging at this hour instead.

Harouna and the driver offered to attempt early check-in at the Noom Hotel. Standard check-in: 3pm. Our arrival: 7:15am. They let me check in anyway.

Pleased, Harouna said he’d return at 10am while both he and the driver needed rest. As I settled in, Yaou soon then texted instructing me to bring two passport photos and my slip to reception for passport retrieval. Thankfully, I always keep emergency backup passport photos (otherwise Yaou would’ve sent someone to photograph and print quickly), so I left both those and my passport slip with reception.

When they looked confused, I then called Yaou and he explained via speakerphone. I also asked the hotel staff for a xerox copy of the slip just to be safe, then went back upstairs, showered, napped for an hour, and emerged at 10:05am refreshed and ready.

Harouna and the driver were already there waiting for me to begin the official tour.

Watching Harouna, I learned that in Niger, greeting with “Salaam alaikum” followed by “Bonjour/Bonsoir, ça va?” disarms everyone here. This combination of an Arabic Islamic greeting plus French colonial language acknowledges both Niger’s religious identity (90%+ Muslim) and its administrative language (French). Use it.

Niamey Proper: The Unfiltered Tour

Our hotel is conveniently located next to the Palais des Congres, where government governs.

The Slaughterhouse

Harouna wanted to first show me their open-air slaughterhouse; essentially what happens in Western factories behind closed doors and regulatory obscurity, except here it occurs in full public view.

Cattle, goats, and sheep processed on-site. Blood, hides, meat, bones, and waste all visible in morning light. The efficiency was remarkable: nothing wasted, every part utilized. It’s pretty intense for a first tour stop, but we’re jumping into the deep end here in Niger.

The gorier content lives in the formal Flickr album dedicated to Niamey:

Those passionate about animal rights or with queasy stomachs should beware coming here.

Kodako Recycling Market

From the slaughterhouse, we drove to the Kodako recycling market.

The first notable part of the market here, to keep it on theme, is where meat is dried using traditional methods. A man I had to charm to photograph cuts strips of beef and goat . . .

. . . that are stretched out on tables, slowly dehydrating in Sahelian air to become jerky, a preservation technique predating refrigeration by centuries and still preferred for flavor.

The market sprawled across a large area, combining recycling operations with food processing: plastic sorted here, electronics disassembled there, meat drying in between. Informal economy at scale.

Bridges, lots of them

From Kodako, we drove onto Pont Général Seyni Kountché spanning the Niger River. Harouna proudly noted it was built by the Chinese. No additional context needed; Chinese infrastructure investment in Africa is ubiquitous enough that this single sentence suffices. We’ve seen it all.

The bridge was modern, functional, and noticeably better-maintained than older infrastructure—a pattern visible across Francophone Africa wherever Chinese construction has replaced French colonial-era projects.

They also drove me to another Chinese-built bridge.

We walked both, admiring the river beds and marshes growing along the fast-moving current.

Once across, we left Niamey proper, driving through villages on the city’s western outskirts. Mud-brick compounds, thatched roofs, livestock wandering freely, and the pace of life existing beyond capital cities everywhere in the Sahel.

Roundabouts, lots of them

Niamey features a series of creative roundabout statues marking different symbols of various Niger tribes.

Embassy Row, aka Architectural Biennale

Returning to Niamey, we made several passes along Embassy Street, which felt like an unintentional architectural exhibition. Each country’s consulate reflects national aesthetic preferences: French neoclassical, American fortress modernism, Chinese block contemporary, Nigerian West African blockbuster, Arab Middle Eastern palace. All on one street, competing for visual prominence. I felt transported to Venice’s Biennale or a World Expo.

Cruising back along the Niger River past the Presidential Palace, we admired spectacular greenery rare for this part of the Sahel, and roadside greenhouses set up by the river banks.

We returned to the hotel where Harouna insisted I take lunch there while they took a 3-hour siesta. Not wanting to offend, I used the hotel gym for two hours, creatively working with dumbbells; the only equipment besides a single treadmill and two bikes.

I then had my lunch at the hotel restaurant before they closed. By 4pm, Harouna returned to continue our tour.

Kennedy Bridge

We drove to the first bridge across the Niger at Niamey, reportedly built with U.S. assistance and named after JFK. This bridge represents earlier American engagement in West African infrastructure before Chinese investment dominated this sector.

We then visited the Grande Mosquée, a gift to Niger from the late Libyan dictator Muammar Qaddafi.

You pay “whatever you think is appropriate” to enter. Since I didn’t have local currency (Central African Francs or CFAs), our driver paid 5,000 CFAs on my behalf. I promised to pay him back.

The women’s section behind the men’s area fits 1,000 people.

The imam explained how Libyans built the mosque, Chinese installed the sound system, and Italians donated a water tank and, most importantly in this heat, a single air conditioner.

After 20 minutes at the Grande Mosque, we drove to Terminus Hotel, the location of Yaou’s office and essentially HQ where everything happens, including visas.

I thanked Yaou in person and gave him a hug for all his help over the past two years getting me into both Chad and Niger. He then returned the gratitude by retrieving my passport with the formal visa stamp from his office.

Finally, my passport returned with an official Niger visa: The stamp I’d tried obtaining for over a year through Washington D.C. and Copenhagen embassies, spending countless hours on applications that went nowhere. All told, I parted with my physical passport for just 9 hours to get a visa in the very place I was trying to enter with said visa. How ironic. How poetic.

I used Yaou’s ATM in the Terminus Hotel lobby to repay our driver for the mosque and have enough for early dinner to celebrate.

Cap Banga Restaurant

No Niamey journey would be complete without a Niger River boat ride. Harouna wanted somewhere special: a restaurant literally built in the middle of the river. To get there, we drove to the river banks and then boarded a small dinghy.

Don’t lose your balance boarding or your trip ends quickly.

We took about a 20 minute boat ride up the river.

The sunset vibes here are impeccable.

It sets before you even know it:

If you don’t mind insects, this place is worth the atmosphere.

By 7pm after finishing dinner, we took the boat back to the river banks where our jeep was parked, then drove to my hotel for the night.

Before bed, I reflected on the absurdity and beauty of traveling at this level. 11 months between visa attempts, finally successful. Try and try again. It’s all about patience, hitting while the iron’s hot, and avoiding procrastination. Beware the psychology of postponement or else things simply won’t happen in life. The secret here is a consistent flexibility in persistence.

I can’t say Niger will remain difficult for Americans indefinitely. Windows open and close. Political situations change. What didn’t work December 2024 worked December 2025 and might not work December 2026. Even starting this trip last week in Yemen demonstrated impeccable timing; we literally arrived just as a forced government change happened, which will likely make foreign entry more difficult again.

Day 2: The Final Countdown

Waking at 6:30am after nine and a half hours of sleep, I enjoyed a morning sunrise swim in the outdoor full lap-length pool before the sun’s heat arrived.

After 20 minutes of lap swimming, oddly more tiring here than pools back home, I switched to cardio at the gym upstairs for half an hour, then enjoyed hotel breakfast. Harouna and our driver returned at 10am to continue our tour.

The Artisanal Village

We first visited the artisanal village for souvenir shopping: metalwork, bracelets, leather goods, jewelry, textiles, woodcarvings, and the country gift shop every tour exits through. Prices are negotiable. I bought two metal bracelets for 7,000 CFA after negotiating down from 14,500 CFAs, telling them I literally had only 6000 CFAs remaining; Harouna would lend me an extra 1000 CFAs (I’m honest with them, even when haggling!).

There’s more shops in the back:

Animal Market

Harouna next took me to the livestock market where cattle, goats, sheep, and camels are inspected, bought, sold, and transported.

Where rural Niger meets urban demand: farmers bring livestock to city buyers, middlemen negotiate prices, and the informal economy keeps the engine running. Harouna made his point from last night about Niger’s meat abundance: “Everyone eats meat. Too much meat. So many animals in Niger.”

Look how much food is needed to keep this market going everyday:

Cathédrale de Maourey.

I specifically then requested to add in the Cathédrale de Maourey. In a country that’s over 90% Muslim, the cathedral represents Niger’s small but significant Christian minority, such as migrants from southern Nigeria and other coastal West African nations. The architecture blends French colonial church design with local materials and decorative elements.

We greeted the caretaker inside who didn’t expect our arrival. He unlocked a side door for us to explore inside, then showed us a nearby smaller chapel.

We then went to a nearby smaller chapel.

Afterwards, we returned to the hotel where I collected my bags, checked out, and withdrew more cash from their ATM to repay Harouna for lending me 1,000 CFAs, plus gratuity for both him and our driver.

National Museum

We then set back out for the final leg of our tour at the next door National Museum, founded by Boubou Hama.

More than a museum, this place is actually a zoo with museum buildings scattered throughout: lions, hawks, turtles, zebras . . .

….adult and their baby hippos…

. Small indoor structures house exhibits on history, tribal clothing styles, archaeological finds, dinosaur fossils excavated by Americans in Niger . . .

. . . a desert tree that once marked groundwater sources for travelers. After a car crashed into it and felled it, they transported it here rather than let it rot.

. . . and even a hall on the massive uranium deposits native to Niger. This is why France maintained such strong interest in Niger.

I didn’t know a cow like this existed. Is this a fossil of an extinct kind?

. . . never mind.

If you consolidated all indoor exhibition space, you’d have a small museum. Instead, imagine an outdoor museum interspersed across grounds where hippos, zebras, lions, birds, crocodiles, and various other wildlife roam between small, topic-specific exhibition buildings. And if you forgot souvenirs, there’s another and more lively artisanal village in the back of the museum grounds.

Grande Marché

Finally we made one last stop at the Grande Marché and the largest market in Niger.

This is the country’s premier covered commercial center with over 5,000 stalls. Everything’s here: textiles, metalwork, spices, electronics, livestock, traditional medicine, modern goods, and the organized chaos defining West African market culture.

Be mindful of walking around here on your own; Harouna warned of plenty of sticky fingers here.

After 30 minutes walking around the market, Harouna and the driver dropped me at the airport, only twenty minutes outside Niamey.

We hugged farewell in the parking lot, and I set off on my solo journey home.

Niamey’s airport (NIM) displays some dinosaur fossils in the departures hall, which looks like a tradition carried over from their old pre-2019 airport.

Then the show begins: At the first security check to reach check-in desks, the guard seemed confused why I was flying to Ouagadougou. I explained it was only a transit stop to Brussels, Belgium, then Zurich, Switzerland, then Newark to get home (this complicated itinerary courtesy of a 70K miles business class redemption: the only business class option home from NIM).

He said with my USA passport, I needed a visa for Belgium. I explained that Belgium being part of Europe, I didn’t. He then said at least for Switzerland, I definitely needed a visa as an American. Again, I said no. He didn’t believe me but let me proceed to check-in. He asked the check-in desk if this was true; they confirmed I was fine. He seemed skeptical. Was he confusing me with a Chinese passport holder?

At check-in, they were shocked I had no bags to check…as if I was the first traveler who backpacks and knows to “never check a bag” to minimize lost luggage frustration. They then asked me about the weight of both my bags, even though as a business class passenger I was entitled to bring both onboard. I told them accurately (8-9kg and 12-14kg, respectively). They made me weigh them anyway, continuing skepticism. Et voila: 9kg and 14kg. Defeated, they issued my boarding pass. I noted no onward tickets printed for Ouagadougou to Brussels, Brussels to Zurich, Zurich to Newark. They said I’d get onward tickets in Ouagadougou. Uh oh. Ouagadougou is not exactly a world-renowned transit hub that would hopefully know how to deal with these things.

Upstairs at another security round, even after clearing X-ray, they mandated opening every bag and every smaller bag inside those bags. They unzipped every zipper, even re-opening things when they lost track of what they’d already inspected. After 10 minutes, they confiscated my disposable razor (fine), a tiny plastic mirror in my toiletries bag (sad, it survived this long although fine, I never used it), and a small nail clipper (also sad…it was a souvenir from the now-extinct Robot Restaurant in Japan). I guess this is why people check their bags here. This also reminded me how this part of Africa nitpicks over items nowhere else in the world does…but then again, we still have that weird arbitrary 3-1-1 liquids rule back home.

After security, I sat alone in this entire departures hall by myself. Might as well be my very own oversized business class lounge.

Walking toward the bathroom after 20 minutes trying to connect to the terrible WiFi, I finally noticed a business class lounge called BLU sponsored by Radisson Blu Hotels. Scanning my ticket, I enjoyed another whole room to myself …much cozier and less isolating than the departures hall.

The woman managing the lounge inside asked if I wanted hot food. I said no thanks given that we were boarding soon, but she brought out hot food from the fridge anyway and lit canisters underneath to warm it. I pointed out my flight had already arrived from Addis Ababa and again, that we’d board soon. She said it would be warm by then. 6 minutes later, staff told me to board. I did a taste test and small bite of the “hot” food … still ice cold. Oh well.

I thanked the lady who tried her best to feed me a warm meal (the kind of care is more than most strangers have given me, hah!) then proceeded to the gate. However, the same guy from downstairs who’d done my first security screening somehow reappeared again like a mischievous court jester, saying again he was unsure if I could enter Belgium with my USA passport. Wow, he also cares more about my travels than some of my own friends. I was touched. But are we on the same planet? Where did he come from? Does he know something I don’t?

As he was chatting me up, another security officer next to him asked to go through my bags again: a third security screening within the past hour. I let her. But then when she saw how many bags were in bags in all my bags, she gave up after 5-6 minutes and let me finally board. Nobody expected this solo traveler to not check a bag. The guy next to her once again wished me luck getting into Europe, or Switzerland, “or ‘Newark… is that United States?'” as I walked onto the jet bridge. I wished him the same.

Walking onto Ethiopian Airlines’ Cloud Nine business class cabin to Ouagadougou felt like a world shift, suddenly surrounded by people who knew where I was going and that I didn’t need a visa for Europe. The flight was a quick 45 minute jaunt during which I snacked on canapés and worked on this blog post live.

Landing in Ouagadougou (my third time! I guess it really is turning into a travel hub), I disembarked, hopped on a bus, and was driven to arrivals. I desperately didn’t want to be shaken down for not having a formal Burkina Faso visa; the one from my 2023 week-long visit had expired. They made me go through the process anyway. For the first time this trip, we were asked for Yellow Fever cards. Thankfully, like backup passport photos, I always keep my laminated Yellow Fever vaccine card ready.

After health inspections, I asked about the process for transiting passengers. The officer pointed me to the visa office. The visa office guy said I was at the wrong place, pointing me to his assistant who pointed me back to the officers. I ignored the officers. But then the assistant disappeared before I could ask for alternatives. I then approached a few women who looked in charge standing past the officers. They were more helpful: they gave me an entry form and told me to write “Transit” in all areas asking for trip purpose, Burkina Faso address, and duration of stay (I added “6 HOURS”).

With this form, I thanked the women and proceeded to passport control, where the officer understood, saw a digital copy of my Brussels itinerary, and stamped me into Burkina Faso. How would he know I wouldn’t use this as an opportunity for a formal visa on arrival and explore the whole country for a week?

Look at the stamp. It doesn’t specify transit, so I could have totally entered Burkina Faso claiming I was a transiting passenger, showing a random itinerary, not paying the relatively expensive tourist visa fee, and exploring like a tourist before leaving in a day or two. Not sure if this travel hack would be worth exploiting at the risk of detainment.

I’m now typing this outside departures, where they won’t let you enter until 3 hours before flight for formal check-in. This is exactly the same situation I faced leaving Paris and our group early for my Freetown flight in 2023: sitting outside for hours with no WiFi, no internet, nothing to do but pass time and practice meditating.

And leaving notes for people to find.

2 years ago giving instructions on where I left a note:

Today: confirming she had found it!

During my wait outside departures, I had to turn on my ThermaCell device to ward off mosquitoes. One still got me in the ear, so I escalated to DEET and put headphones over my ears for protection. I then noticed the departures board was missing my flight…there was the Brussels Airlines flight to Abidjan, but no direct flight to Brussels listed.

Checking my Flighty app and asking the gate officers confirmed what I suspected: the 16:50 Brussels Airlines flight to Abidjan would return as an immediate turnaround to take us onwards to Brussels overnight as scheduled. Their board was just missing a few things.

At 7pm check-in, officers guarding departures wanted to see my e-visa before letting me through; my arrival stamp wasn’t enough. I explained I was a transiting passenger for the past 3 hours after arriving from Niamey earlier this afternoon and showed my itinerary. They eventually let me proceed.

At check-in, I received only two boarding passes: OUA to BRU and BRU to ZRH. My onward ZRH to EWR flight would need to be printed during my 40-minute Zurich layover: tight, but manageable if everything ran on time. The officer stamping me out of Burkina Faso was the friendliest yet, understanding my situation immediately.

Through passports and another security round, which was a lighter version of Niger’s more thorough screening, I headed upstairs to the business class lounge, which had received a major upgrade since my last visit two years ago:

Today:

Mind you at time of posting right now, it appears much of the airport around us is undergoing major renovations. No all-you-can-eat and getting food on your own at this lounge by the way; you’ll have to be served.

After 2 and a half hours struggling with the lounge’s marginal WiFi (it worked on my laptop but not my phone), I changed into pajamas and brushed my teeth before boarding at 9:35pm.

As expected from my previous experience here, even after formal security screening, they inspected luggage one final time before boarding. Since Niamey’s airport had already confiscated my “dangerous” plastic mirror, disposable razor, and 7-year-old nail clipper, things moved “way more quickly.”

At this airport, staff were curious about my vacuum-sealed clothing bag lighting up their metal detector wand, but once I showed them the belt inside, they let me proceed.

We boarded on time at 10pm.

Although I’d planned to skip the meal service for immediate sleep, the charming flight attendants convinced me to eat, so I chose their cod.

After dinner, I slept 4 solid hours until we landed at 5:30am in Brussels. With my extended Brussels layover, I had time to sort out printing my final boarding pass, a task that would have been stressful in Zurich’s 40-minute connection but would be more manageable here.

I first went to the Brussels Airlines service desk. They said that since I’d redeemed miles through United, I had to call United directly. When I called United, they said I needed Brussels Airlines to “tag” my OUA-BRU ticket as used and uncheck me out before they could issue alternative flights.

On my second visit to Brussels Airlines’ service desk, the representative unchecked me and confirmed my OUA-BRU ticket was tagged as used. But when I called United to confirm, they still showed me as checked in. On my third trip to the Brussels Airlines service desk, I put United on speaker. While Brussels Airlines showed me on their screen that I was unchecked, United’s system still showed me checked in. Eventually, both recommended I try the United service desk, while warning it likely wouldn’t work either. They were wrong. The United representative at the airport service desk made several calls and finally found someone who could uncheck me in their system.

However, they could only rebook me using the same ticket code (I), and no alternative flights were available under that code. They recommended I call United’s hotline again.

I called United a third time and finally got answers. The in-person United desk had unchecked me, but since Ethiopian Airlines operated the first leg, they’d initiated the ticket. They could only change flights for free if there was a valid reason, like a delay or missed connection. When I explained I still hadn’t received my ZRH-EWR boarding pass and only had 40 minutes to get it during my Zurich layover, the representative said that seemed like a valid reason. She put me on hold to check with her supervisor.

After 15 minutes on hold she returned and said according to her and her supervisor, this 40 minute layover without an onward ticket yet was indeed a risky layover and shouldn’t have been allowed to be booked in the first place, and offered to change my flight for free. But, then after looking at alternative options, the only option for her was a flight already departing within the hour. Not wanting to rush through security and boarding on this new offer within 40 minutes at the time of the call — the whole point of this process was avoiding the stress of a sub-hour layover — I passed on trading one risk for another. I asked for the next day’s direct flight instead, and they said I should call back once this flight departed.

At 11:30am, I called again. After the new representative initially said it wasn’t possible, I asked her to check with her support team; I still had nothing to lose and plenty of time since I could always fall back on the riskier Brussels-Zurich-Newark routing. After 20-25 minutes on hold, she came back with success: they’d rebooked me on the direct Brussels to Newark flight the next morning!

With no plans for the next two days, I was ecstatic: it was boasted no extra cost, far more convenience, less connection risk, and I was still on business class. I thanked her profusely. Full circle: I’d end where I started, right here in Brussels.

- At time of posting in Niamey, it was 35 °C - Humidity: 31% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: ah, so this is where summer went

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Yemen Day 4: Mukalla Drive

Calvin Sun — Fri, 05 Dec 2025 12:13:19 +0000

Al-Mukalla

Pulling ourselves away from a desert mirage paradise at Haid Al-Jazil, we swapped our armed guard at another checkpoint during the 2 hour drive to Mukalla.

You point that thing away from me!

After a long wait at one of the checkpoints, we passed a few makeshift roadblocks (not an accident):

As we began to feel the humidity of ocean air, we knew we were getting close to Mukalla, where negotiations after the recent military takeover had taken place just yesterday between Saudi and Emirati diplomats.

At a tense moment of military escalation and repeated attacks around Hadhramaut’s eastern oil fields, the Hadhramaut Tribes Alliance (HTA) and the local authority announced the signing of a formal de-escalation agreement on 3 December in Mukalla. The deal came under the auspices of a senior Saudi delegation and a mediation committee of prominent sheikhs and local leaders.

The agreement calls for an immediate halt to all military, security, and media escalation, and stipulates the repositioning of tribal alliance forces one kilometer away from the state-owned Petro Masila oil company, while elite units withdraw three kilometers. It further mandates integrating the Hadhramaut Protection Forces with the Oil Companies Protection Force under a single command to secure installations and safeguard “national wealth.” The accord stresses the return of employees to their posts and the uninterrupted continuation of oil production.

The declaration followed a week of heavy tension across Seiyun, Gil Ben Yamin, and the surrounding plateau, where tribal fighters pushed back repeated attempts by the UAE-backed Southern Transitional Council (STC) to impose control.

Despite the formal truce, the calm is brittle. Several armed formations – each tied to its own patrons and agendas – still operate across the province. The future of the plateau, and the oil beneath it, remains uncertain.

A military source in the HTA tells The Cradle that STC deputy chief Maj. Gen. Faraj al-Bahsani intends to undermine the agreement through new attacks on positions held by the Hadhramaut Protection Forces. Renewed fighting is expected, particularly around Al-Qabaa and the approaches to Wadi Mullin.

Allies at odds: Yemen’s Hadhramaut has become the latest front in the Saudi–Emirati struggle

The Cradle, December 4, 2025.

While Mukalla had fared slightly better during Yemen’s ongoing civil war, it was held by Al-Qaeda between 2015-2016 until a Saudi-led force of Yemeni and Emirati troops retook the city 9 years ago.

Even today amidst all the recent escalation in fighting, Mukalla appears back open for tourism and is considered the safest compared to the rest of mainland Yemen’s cities.

We first came upon Fort Al-Ghwayzi, a building literally decided to be built on top of a floating rock formation:

Designed to protect the city from Bedouin attacks, this historic fortress dates back to 1716 when the sultans of the Emirate of Al-Kassad ruled the Hadhramaut area.

Old Mukalla

We then parked at the old town gate of Mukalla:

From there we took a stroll down the center:

Our armed guard is a native himself from Mukalla, so he insisted on showing us through the old historic city core and its many small alleyways.

Look up and you can see makeshift bridges families engineered between buildings, just like in Shibam, so they wouldn’t have to go back downstairs to get into someone else’s house.

You can also find Al-Rawdah Mosque in these alleyways:

We then came back out onto the seaside corniche of Mukalla, taking in the ocean breeze of the Gulf of Aden:

We strolled along the sea before hopping back into our car for the best meal of the trip so far. I’d been waiting for a lunch like this:

After the carnage… guess which one was mine:

The Markets

As we approached noon, we back drove over to walk through Mukalla’s fish markets.

… which is also attached to its fruit market:

When you only got markets left to see, that’s always a sign there’s not much else to do here. And with Abdul Kareem wanting to get back in time for sunset, we got back inside our car and drove the long 6 hours back towards Seiyun.

Golden Hour Over Shibam

As Bruce seems to have been passed out the whole time while I caught up on blogging, we endured all the series of checkpoints to return to Shibam by 5pm for our final evening in the Hadhramaut.

During the drive, poor Abdul Kareem was getting worried if he could get us up at a viewpoint west of the city in time for golden hour, the ideal time to photograph Shibam’s towers from afar.

We arrived nearly just in time. Once the car doors opened, we rushed out.

As we looked behind us as we began to climb up to the viewpoint, the scene looked simultaneously ancient and also oddly futuristic, ironic since this is a city that was designed for vertical living centuries before vertical living became global.

We ran up the countless steps that were crudely constructed into the hill trying to catch the light as dusk transitioned to evening, experiencing the city one final time. The experience felt cinematic; as we rucked up to catch the last of the day’s light, the call to prayer reverberated in the sky and between the towers. Life here continued on, with or without us. Maybe better with.

Back to Seiyun

After spending half an hour taking in the sunset in Shibam amidst the adhan, we climbed back down and returned on the 20 minute drive back to our first hotel back in Al-Hawtah, where we checked back into our rooms and had our laundry picked up for about $6/person. They would wash, dry, and return all our clothes back within 2 hours; talk about Hadhramawt efficiency!

As laundry was cooking in the background, we began an early dinner with Kais and all our guides, joined by a large group of Polish tourists that had flown in the day before. We all watched a local Yemeni dance and musical performance Kais and the hotel had hired to entertain us, which culminated in all of us dancing together with the performers. Yallah!

Kais also presented us gifts to take back home, which was truly special.

I’d definitely return back to Yemen just to spend time with Kais again. We then hugged and said our goodbyes and packed for an early rise.

Departure Day

After getting in a few hours of sleep, we both woke up to the Yemeni alarm bell of mosquito bites at 4am. That was our cue to go.

After loading the car it took us only 20 minutes to drive to Seiyun’s airport, which indeed, according to Abdul Kareem and Hossain, was guarded by a completely different team of troops than when we’d arrived only 5 days ago, a day before the STC takeover.

After saying or next goodbye to Hossain in the parking lot, Abdul Kareem assisted in expediting us to get through security at the front, and then check-in to get our tickets . . .

. . . stamp out at passport control . . .

. . . before saying goodbye to us as well. We hugged and promised to see him again at the World Cup in Saudi Arabia in 4 years.

We then went through another security screening to reach the airport’s only gate, where a group was doing a sunrise call to prayer at the front of the room.

We then waited about an hour at the gate, watching the sunrise again as Yemenia Airways’ 5am flight from Aden arrived 15 minutes early at 5:45am.

After waiting for the women to board first, we then finished our boarding by 6:35am for a 7am takeoff.

Just like how I remembered when we flew out of Socotra, Yemenia Airways does on-board food way better when flying out from Yemen:

Cairo: Full Circle

Bruce and I then landed in Cairo at 9:45am local time after 3 hours 45 minutes in the air (Cairo is 1 hour behind). Thankfully, we were swiftly guided through Terminal 1’s passport control with pre-paid visas arranged through another stay at Le Meridien Cairo Airport; a fast pass service where someone meets you at the gate with visas already acquired, then whisks you through passports into arrivals within minutes. He then took us onto a Le Meridien shuttle bus back to how and where we started. This is a travel hack I’m going to use from now on!

After checking in at Le Meridien, we dropped our bags in Bruce’s room and headed back out in an Uber for a 45 minute drive to the soft opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum.

A few weeks ago I had gotten tickets on their website as getting them beforehand allows you to skip all lines and queues. Because when you arrive there, they don’t specify which lines are for what, so it’s confusing where people assume they have to wait….Nope. Just dodge everyone until you find a turnstile to scan your QR code and you’re inside Egypt’s proudest, longest-delayed achievement since the pyramids.

The GEM has been under construction since 2002, with an original opening date of 2012 that was repeatedly delayed by political instability, questionable funding issues, and the sheer scale of the project. Located near the Giza Pyramids, it’s the largest archaeological museum in the world dedicated to a single civilization.

The soft opening 2 months ago allowed access to most galleries, with the full opening (including Tutankhamun’s complete collection still back at the original Egyptian Museum in Tahrir Square) still pending.

At 500,000 square meters, it dwarfs the Egyptian Museum in Tahrir Square and represents Egypt’s attempt to modernize how it presents its ancient heritage.

And just to give this story the monsoon twist, not even within 30 minutes there I ran into none other than Keseena: a monsooner whom I last saw abroad in Mauritius. She famously came on my 2016 Central Europe trip before she even knew she would, and had just interviewed me 6 months ago when visiting NYC for her new podcast, the Heart Seat.

We caught up, and then she introduced me to her travel group who were just beginning their Egypt trip. I would unexpectedly have a chance to make new future friends before Bruce and I had to head back at 1pm; he for his residency interview, me for my 4:35pm flight to Vienna for the second part of my trip: my second attempt to visit Niger.

Full Circles

Getting back to Le Meridien at 2pm from a conveniently positioned Uber waiting for us outside the GEM, Bruce and I hugged goodbye. I wished him luck on his interview.

Things once again are coming full circle in nowhere else but Cairo: here was Bruce, once my pre-med college student medical scribe whom I met 5 years ago on the first day of my still-current job as an emergency physician, now living the same fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants travel lifestyle while as a full-time medical student at the very same medical school I went to, whose presence on this trip asks: “Am I aging?” His presence here with me in Cairo parallels to exactly how Monsoon Diaries started: myself as a pre-medical student in 2009, taking a spontaneous trip to Egypt, riding horses at sunset by the pyramids, then 10 years later heading to the White Desert with a guide named Badry. That experience launched everything that followed: the blog, the philosophy, the business, the 191 countries.

Bruce was doing the same thing; I’d arranged for him to do horseback riding at sunset by the pyramids tomorrow morning, then meet Badry (yes, the same Badry from 6 years ago) to head to my favorite place in Egypt: the White Desert. 16 years. Same trajectory. Different person.

In fact, the sheer amount hyperlinks I just had to figure out how to put in above goes to show how far we’ve come and stayed consistent. I could’ve hyperlinked this past entire section and you’d still get it.

Leaving his room so he could prepare for his residency interview on Zoom, I headed through the hotel’s convenient elevated walkway to Terminal 3.

I then went through security, got tickets at check-in, went through security again, and hung out at EgyptAir’s Almesian Lounge by the F gates before boarding my onward 3 hour flight to Vienna.

Vienna Layover

Once in Vienna, I stamped into the EU for the night to catch up on sleep at the airport Moxy Hotel, a 10 minute walk from arrivals.

Next: Niger, attempt number two.

- At time of posting in Al Khuraiba, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 45% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny

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Yemen Day 3: Where Reality Surpasses Dreams at Haid al-Jazil-lion Miles Away From Reality

Calvin Sun — Fri, 05 Dec 2025 01:13:07 +0000

Haid Al-Jazil

As the afternoon began to wane, we continued onto our accommodation for the night at the Haid Al-Jazil Resort Hotel, named after what it overlooks and its location perching dramatically on a cliff overlooking the Wadi Do’an.

You’ll find remarkably good tourist infrastructure here, Hadhramaut-style.

We settled into basic but clean rooms, each sporting the single greatest amenity any hotel could offer: views of where this place is named after, a diamond in the rough, and an Atlantis rising from the desert.

Can I finally submit again to National Geographic?

From the hotel’s infinity pool terrace, the wadi spread below in both directions.

To the center and right:

And to our left:

As sunset began, the rock walls transformed through shades of amber, bronze, and deep rust. The villages below lit up one by one as donkeys and shepherds made their way home.

Then 3 older Chinese tourists, two of them more outgoing than their third, approached us thinking we were Japanese. Overhearing their Mandarin, I quickly corrected them. Once they realized we could speak Mandarin as well, they settled on the rocks with us past the infinity pool to share in the views. As we got to know them, one of them proudly stated she was the only Chinese person living in Socotra.

Confirms Bruce’s saying he reminded me of: “Where there is a place, there is Chinese.”

You don’t get a lot of moments like these in life (unless you travel with us).

Dinner was served in the hotel’s restaurant by reception. We ate as the valley succumbed to complete darkness.

The supermoon, unobscured by light pollution, emerged as if it would become our new sun. Tonight, perched on this cliff in one of the world’s most isolated valleys, I simply appreciated the improbability of being here at all.

When they say travel is dead, and that everywhere is the same now, or when they claim there’s nothing new to discover, I’d show them these photographs of ancient skyscrapers rising like Atlantis of the desert. This isn’t Instagram’s Southern Arabia. This is the real thing, still standing, inhabited, and extraordinary.

We woke up 8 hours later at 5:30am. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the moon look this big in my life:

Already leaving too soon, we drove onwards to Mukalla.

- At time of posting in Haid Al-Jazil, it was 24 °C - Humidity: 24% | Wind Speed: 13km/hr | Cloud Cover: so perfect

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Yemen Day 3: Wadi-“we” Do’an Here?

Calvin Sun — Thu, 04 Dec 2025 21:41:32 +0000

Deep into Wadi Do’an

From Shibam, we drove deeper into the Hadhramaut system, heading toward Wadi Do’an, a dramatic side valley that branches off the main wadi.

Because of the recent military takeover of the local Hadrhamaut government yesterday, we had to wait a bit at our checkpoints for armed guard swaps.

We also stopped for water and roadside goods along the way:

The landscape then became increasingly dramatic as we descended into the narrow gorge. This is the hometown of our guide Abdul Kareem.

Al-Hajjrain

Al-Hajjrain (or Al-Hajarayn), deep inside Wadi Do’an, is a village famous for its own towering mud-brick houses, often called the “secret Shibam.”

Its buildings cluster together as if they were growing from the valley floor.

Wadi Do’an remains more traditional than the main Hadhramaut valley. Fewer outsiders, less development pressure, and geographic isolation have preserved ways of life that disappeared elsewhere generations ago.

Sif Village

We drove further into Wadi Do’an toward Sif, a village where houses appear to have been built directly into and onto the cliff face, connected by natural and manmade staircases. From below, they seemed to sprout as if the desert rocks were its soil.

You can tell which houses belonged to wealthier families that do business with the Saudis:

My favorite was Sif’s literal white castle that rose high against the rock as if it were set against a grey, stormy sky.

The village seemed quiet during our midday visit, most residents resting during the hottest hours. We climbed some of the staircases, gaining perspective on how these communities adapted to extreme topography.

Abdul Kareem then surprised us with a little cake with our names on it as a token of appreciation for visiting his childhood home.

Next: Haid Al-Jazil!

- At time of posting in Wadi Doan, it was 21 °C - Humidity: 10% | Wind Speed: 48km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and perfect

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Yemen Day 2/3: Waking Up to A Military Takeover | Shibam Diggity – Where Are Skyscrapers Born? Here, in The Manhattan of the Desert

Calvin Sun — Thu, 04 Dec 2025 17:34:49 +0000

Day 2 was supposed to start with a morning drive to Al-Mukalla, the seaport and capital city district of Hadramawt. But that plan aged poorly, because we woke up to this instead:

Just like my morning of our last day in Kabul in 2019, we woke up to deep groaning rumbles that resembled the thuds of “did someone just fall down upstairs?” or more relatable, “was that thunder in the distance?” But I knew better. I know now that if it sounded like someone fell upstairs, it was an explosion from mortar fire. I also knew that meant we’d be grounded at our hotel. That comes with arriving in the middle of a military/armed takeover and government change.

We therefore spent the morning brushing up on Yemen’s latest politics, learning who the UAE-backed Southern Transitional Council (STC) are and what they just did to the Saudi-backed First Military Region that had been in control when we flew in yesterday. When we fly out in 3 days, the airport will be under a new flag.

Brief primer on what just happened:

Southern Yemen’s politics operate on multiple layers of complexity. The country officially unified in 1990, merging North Yemen (Yemen Arab Republic) and communist South Yemen (People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen). That union never stayed comfortable, and in 2015 when civil war erupted between the Houthi rebels and the internationally recognized government, those southern grievances resurfaced.

The Southern Transitional Council (STC) formed in 2017 with backing from the UAE, advocating for at least southern autonomy, if not independence. They controlled the southern coast hoping for one day it would become a federal “State of South Arabia.” Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia supports what was until yesterday the First Military Region, aligned with Yemen’s current internationally recognized government. Both are technically on the same side against the Iran-backed Houthis in the north, but their competing visions for southern Yemen’s future create this proxy tension.

Hadhramaut, where we are now, is southern Yemen’s largest and wealthiest governorate: it’s oil-rich, historically significant, and relatively stable compared to the rest of the country for the past decade. Control of Seiyun’s airport, the region’s resources, and port of Aden makes this area a prize worth positioning for, which is exactly what the STC just did: a calculated chess move to consolidate power before any future political settlement.

For tourists, this matters because our safety depends on whoever controls the region maintaining stability and protecting the tourism revenue stream. The STC taking over doesn’t make things more dangerous for us, if anything, it just changes who’s in charge. The transition happening this quickly, with Saudi and Emirati delegations immediately negotiating, suggests both sides want to avoid prolonged conflict that would shut down what little international access exists here. Our tour coordinator Kais compares it to a guy who bought a house and then lends it to a cousin. Now 25 years later he wants it back. They’re still family, so today was compared to more of an arm wrestle pissing contest without setting any houses — literal or figurative — on fire.

Just like when we were on Socotra in 2019, where the island is essentially split as proxy war grounds between the UAE and Saudi Arabia, so is what’s happening here today in South Yemen: Saudi-backed group (First Military Region) vs. Emirati backed group (STC), both of which are still allied against an Iran-backed group (Houthi). But regardless who’s in charge, we were kept safe by our guides who have been through this before.

We therefore enjoyed an extended breakfast speaking with Kais and getting to learn about his experiences here, and then before we even got up from breakfast at 11am, we saw videos on X showing that Seiyun airport was successfully seized by the STC with celebratory gunfire (which we also heard sporadically from our hotel) in the background. It was then announced on Yemen Monitor a few minutes later that Saudi Arabia had just sent a delegation to Al-Mukalla to negotiate tentative, temporary peace terms with the STC.

Nevertheless out of an abundance of caution and as recommended by Kais’ contacts within the local tourist police infrastructure, we spent the next 24 hours under a self-imposed house arrest at the hotel, where we had spent the day walking the grounds, dipping into their pool (super cold!), and enjoying their high-speed Starlink WiFi. The mortar fire explosions had ceased by the early afternoon. By 10pm, Kais got word from his tourist police contacts that everything was still trending toward lockdown as the incoming weekly Thursday flight from Cairo into Seiyun the next day would be cancelled. Kais’ backup plan would be to fly us out from Al-Mukalla later in the week.

The next morning, December 4th at 8am as we were having breakfast, flights were still cancelled. By 10am they then reversed course, flights resuming, including tomorrow’s Thursday Yemenia CAI-GXF 11:30am-4:00pm that would bring in a large group of Polish tourists (who we’d meet the next evening at our hotel). We then got the green light to head out.

Remember the three Chinese tourists that were on our flight yesterday? We’d run into them again later at Haid Al-Jazil who said their coordinator recommended staying grounded in Seiyun for a second day out of caution. They and their guide went out anyway to Wadi Doan.

With word we could leave, we then repacked and drove out to the place I’d been waiting years to see.

Shibam: The Manhattan of the Desert

Some places earn their nicknames through aggressive marketing. Others through undeniable existence. Shibam is the “Manhattan of the Desert” and until today, had remained a longtime dream of mine simply for its presence on this planet.

We departed Hawta around 8:30am, driving approximately 15 minutes to reach Shibam. The approach is gradual until suddenly, impossibly, the city materializes from the desert floor: dozens of tower houses, rising 5-11 stories, packed tightly together, all constructed from sun-baked mud brick.

These Are The World’s Oldest Skyscrapers

Shibam is a metaphor for human ingenuity, remnants of a grand civilization from a time long lost to antiquity. These buildings, some dating back to the 16th century with foundations potentially older, represent the world’s first high-rise apartment buildings. Long before Chicago or New York bragged about optimizing vertical urban living, Hadhramis were already living upwards for a millennia, stacking families on top of one another out of necessity and ingenuity.

Why build up?

Defense: Height provided protection from Bedouin raids and flooding from the seasonal wadi
Space efficiency: Limited habitable land in the valley floor demanded vertical expansion
Climate control: Tall, narrow buildings with thick walls created natural ventilation
Social structure: Extended families occupied entire towers, with older generations on lower floors and younger families ascending as they aged

Shibam contains approximately 500 tower houses anywhere from 3 to 11 stories tall, housing around 7,000 residents within an area of just 80,000 square meters. UNESCO designated it a World Heritage Site in 1982, recognizing it as “one of the oldest and best examples of urban planning based on the principle of vertical construction.”

There’s only one gate to get inside, leading to Al-Qaser Square to begin your walk.

Walking Shibam’s Streets

We walked through Shibam’s streets, hearing barely a whisper as if the town had yet to wake up, and as if we had the whole place to ourselves.

Towers loomed overhead everywhere, creating canyon-like passages that provided shade during the day.

The mud brick architecture creates a natural air conditioning system: cool morning air settles in the narrow streets while hot air rises and escapes at the tower tops. When we were in the shade, the weather felt literally perfect.

Life continues in these timeless structures: Children play in the alleys, women shop at small ground-floor marketplaces…

The occasional lone motorbike groans through the narrow passages.

Nearing the markets, we passed by the occasional “wildlife,” with Shibam’s domesticated goats and baby chicks.

To keep their UNESCO status, buildings require re-plastering the exterior with fresh mud every year to protect against erosion. It’s labor-intensive, expensive, and increasingly difficult as younger generations move away or lack traditional building skills.

We peeked in a few woodshops and craft markets, one of which showed us a contraption they’d designed over their natural wells to retrieve groundwater.

A bunch of friendly locals asked us to take their photos:

Inside a Mud Tower

Our guides had arranged access to one of the houses, a craft center, to see how they were built from inside. But first we were ushered into a nearby shop for some souvenirs.

Ever wanted a Philips radio over a century old? You can find it here:

Not taking no for an answer, the shop owner beckoned us to dress up as local bedouin, Yemeni style:

Huffing in this new getup, we entered inside one of the mud-brick “skyscrapers”:

A typical tower in Shibam begins at the ground floor, historically reserved for animals and storage, now often modernized into shops and commercial spaces. As you climb the stairs, you reach the second floor, usually reception areas for guests.

We found the stairways narrow and unlike Manhattan itself, clearly not designed for moving large furniture. Small windows, positioned strategically, provided ventilation while maintaining privacy. The interior walls were covered with smooth mud plaster, whitewashed annually before the rainy season.

The middle floors, anywhere from one to three stories high, were private family quarters—bedrooms and living spaces.

We found fascinating antiques here. The family that used to live here were quite the collectors.

The highest floors include the kitchen to dissipate cooking heat and smoke upwards, plus rooftop social spaces for summertime sleeping, drying foods, and social gatherings.

From the rooftop, the view justified the climb in heavy local clothing we’d been outfitted with at the next door souvenir shop; Shibam’s tightly packed towers stretched in every direction, their flat roofs creating an undulating urban landscape.

In the distance, the wadi walls rose sharply, and date palm groves provided the only green against an endless desert’s tan.

After Shibam, we drove deeper into the Hadhramaut ecosystem, heading toward Wadi Doan, a dramatic side valley that branches off the main wadi.

-EDIT-

Totally worth returning the next day for sunset from a viewpoint in New Shibam:

- At time of posting in Shibam, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 28% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny

The post Yemen Day 2/3: Waking Up to A Military Takeover | Shibam Diggity – Where Are Skyscrapers Born? Here, in The Manhattan of the Desert appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

YE-ah-MAN! Yemen Mainland Day 1: Oh Sei-yun Can You See?

Calvin Sun — Tue, 02 Dec 2025 19:51:54 +0000

Let’s just say being here to take this photo at sunset today was worth the wait:

The Visa Maze: When Standard Procedures Is Anything But Standard

Before you get in, you’ll need an entry visa. As an American citizen in 2025, you’d expect the Yemen visa to be a bureaucratic gauntlet; the U.S. State Department maintains a Level 4 “Do Not Travel” advisory for Yemen since the U.S. Embassy in Sana’a had suspended operations years ago, with services allegedly handled remotely through embassies in Riyadh, Djibouti, and Cairo. Commercial visa services list Yemen with “The Embassy of Yemen is not issuing visas at this time” in bold red letters.

BUT don’t lose hope: Americans, Canadians, and British citizens can still secure visas through approved tour operators who obtain special permits from Yemeni authorities. Just like getting a visa to North Korea back in 2011, all we did was send an email to a tour operator saying we were interested. Within 3 weeks, without submitting a physical passport by mail or visiting any embassy, our visas were ready.

The $3000-$4000 package cost for a week covers the visa process:

Step 1: Contact an approved tour operator specializing in southern Yemen (Hadramawt region). I worked with Skyscraper Tours via CultureRoad.
Step 2: I submitted a digital copy of my passport bio page via What’sApp, after which the tour operator submitted on my behalf its detailed itinerary, travel dates, and a letter explaining purpose of visit.
Step 3: My tour operator then submitted my application to Yemen’s Ministry of Interior and Immigration Department.
Step 4: We then waited for an approval letter from Yemeni authorities
Step 5: With approval letter in hand after a few weeks, the tour operator arranges for visa to be issued either at a Yemen diplomatic mission or upon arrival in Yemen.
Step 6: I was ready to submit proof of round-trip airfare and two passport photos, but that ended up not being necessary as my tour operator booked the roundtrip airfare on my behalf from Cairo.

Like Iran and North Korea, Yemen mandates organized tours with local guides throughout your stay. Solo travel isn’t permitted for Americans in current conditions.

Then you need flights, which your tour company arranges as part of the package. The Cairo-Seiyun route operates seasonally, running 3 times a week from October through March on Yemen Airways (aka Yemenia):

Tuesdays
CAI to GXF, 9:30 am – 2:00 pm
GXF to CAI, 3:30 pm – 6:15 pm

Thursdays
CAI to GXF, 11:30 am – 4:00 pm
GXF to CAI, 05:30 pm – 8:15 pm

Saturdays
CAI to GXF, 10:45 am – 3:00 pm
GXF to CAI, 07:00 am – 9:45 am

Cairo to Seiyun: The Only Way In

With visa approval secured and just two countries remaining on my UN list (Sudan and Niger outside its international airport, plus this Yemen visit since I never explored the mainland outside Seiyun’s airport back in 2019 (….I did spend a week in Yemen’s Socotra, but that’s like saying you visited all of Denmark by visiting Greenland), I began my journey.

Started at JFK, where I finally visited Capital One’s new lounge in Terminal 4.

Without a doubt the best lounge in Terminal 4 (haven’t yet visited Virgin’s Clubhouse or Delta One, but this has the advantage of being newest). The amenities set it apart: a “Cheesemonger” station with wine and cheese tastings led by a dedicated cheese chef (reservations only but this swell guy behind the counter still gave me a generous assortment sampling):

…and a coffee station featuring Ess-a-Bagel’s bagels (not as great as getting them from the original shop in the city).

The other two flagship lounges, Chase Sapphire and Amex Centurion, are worth checking out if you have time and don’t like bagels.

Chase Sapphire had the longest lines. I had to join a waitlist that took 15 minutes. Nice and clean, but crowded compared to Capital One with fewer unique food options.

Amex Centurion next door got rid of their Equinox partnership and replaced that former space with their own café featuring Blue Roast coffee.

They still maintain their partnership with Overstory in the speakeasy bar downstairs called 1850:

After itchy feet got me all around Terminal 4, Capital One’s new lounge was the clear winner.

Once again I used a 60k mileage redemption to fly free on Singapore Airlines Business Class to Frankfurt on the same flight I’d enjoyed 4 months prior. Literal déjà vu.

This time I napped first before the meal, which they agreed to accommodate!

After a 3 hour slumber, I woke up and requested meal service. Unlike before, the “Book the Cook” feature worked on check-in this time, so I got Hainanese Chicken Rice for dinner.

Breakfast followed soon after: egg and pork belly.

After landing in Frankfurt for a few hours and continuing on Brussels Airlines to Brussels, I spent the day recovering from jet lag using points at the centrally located Cardo Brussels:

Last night I finally arrived at Cairo International Airport via EgyptAir from Brussels, also on business class redeemed with miles. Out of convenience for our 9:30am Yemenia Airways flight IY607 the next morning, Bruce (a 3 time monsooner, and my former scribe turned medical student at my alma mater and future orthopedic surgeon beginning in 7 months!) and I booked a night at the Le Meridien Airport Hotel attached to Cairo’s Terminal 3.

Yemen Airways, or Yemenia, is the national carrier and virtually the only way to reach southern Yemen commercially. The airline operates an aging (12-14 years old) but serviceable fleet of Airbus aircraft…erm… did they update their software in time?

From Le Meridien, Bruce and I woke around 7am and got actual coffee (like, not Nescafé) in the hotel lobby. After checkout, we took their on-demand shuttle on the 10 minute drive to Cairo Airport Terminal 1.

Ah, Cairo Terminal 1. Probably another circle of hell. Last time I posted about it, I was writing at 3am while waiting to board my flight to Seiyun too throttled by shock and awe over what I’d just been through. This time, well-rested at a reasonable hour, I can describe the ordeal properly: Unlike other terminals of Cairo’s airport complex, you have to go through 2 back to back “lines” (or clusters of people trying to skip each other in something resembling linear movement) for separate security checks just to get your boarding passes.

The first security check is right at the entrance to the primary hall which takes 5-10 minutes. Not so bad. Then, if you’re flying domestic within Egypt, you can probably proceed directly to check-in without another security check. But for international flights, there’s another security screening literally immediately after the first one … like within meters of each other. Literally waiting in line to get onto another, longer line for the exact same thing. I’m not sure if there’s even enough space between them for any variables to change between security screenings.

The wait time can be up to 20 minutes for the second line as many people at this point would have gotten lost wandering before realizing they have to go through another security line, so they’ll try to cut in at the front out of frustration.

Once through the second screening, we were relieved to see no lines at the Yemenia Airways check-in desk; I guess Yemen isn’t the hottest destination right now. This part was straightforward: we presented passports and printed visa documentation, and within minutes got our boarding passes.

These tickets are still so old, I got seated in the smoking section.

From there, headed to passport control for exit stamps, which was another line that looked like 20 minutes long. However, you can pay $15 USD by credit card for the “Fast Lane” on the right to skip this line and face a dedicated officer locked into his phone at his lonely desk to stamp you through. Make sure they stamp both your passport and boarding pass, or you’ll get sent back.

Once through passports, we headed upstairs to the Priority Pass lounge, which got a glow-up since last time.

6 years ago before the glow-up:

After a quick 15 minute breakfast (I recommend the Egyptian dates and hummus), we headed back downstairs to Gate 4, which required another 20 minute wait for security screening. Female passengers go first, as they all need pat-downs by a female officer.

Once all women are through, the female officer switches places with the male officer who’d been screening luggage on the x-ray conveyor belt. The male officer then pats down all male passengers.

Even less than before, there’s literally zero semblance of lines for gate-specific security screening. Feel free to muscle forward if that’s your dream. He might not like it though:

So many x-ray screenings, my luggage now has cancer. But I’m thankful given the circumstances.

The flight was about 40-50% full: mostly Yemeni nationals returning home and a handful of adventure travelers like myself. I noticed 3 Chinese tourists and 1 western-looking female tourist with us.

After 15 minutes in the departures lounge, we boarded our bus. Only one bus needed for everyone on the flight.

Confirming this plane is an Airbus… hope they updated their software just in time.

Notice these news articles are just 1 day old!!!

Once on the bus and driving to our plane, we waited another 10 minutes before they opened a single door to let us off one by one. Then once we seated on our flight, we waited another half hour to watch seat negotiations happen around us (though assigned, it’s still a first-come-first-I-get-to-negotiate culture) and wheelchair passengers to board.

Eventually took off nearly an hour late at 10:27am.

Flight details:

Airline: Yemen Airways (Yemenia)
Flight: IY605
Route: Cairo (CAI) → Seiyun (GXF)
Scheduled: 9:30am – 2:00pm (3h 30m); actual departure 10:27am
Aircraft: Airbus A320 (pre or post software update? We flew fine, so I guess they updated!)
Distance: 1,480 miles

Yemenia Airways, where they won’t check if your seat belts are buckled before takeoff, where staff fidget with broken clasps throughout the flight…

…and where a little Arabic gets you great chai, Yemeni coffee (the OG kind) and complimentary medjool dates. The food wasn’t bad either.

Our flight path took us southeast over the Red Sea, across the narrow strait between Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, then deep into the Arabian Desert.

As we descended for my second landing at Seiyun, I returned to Yemen’s largest governorate, the Hadramawt Valley.

Touchdown in Seiyun: Southern Yemen

When I landed here in 2019, even a glimpse of Seiyun’s airport felt like a locked door to a forbidden world, paradise lost:

Landing at Seiyun Airport again today and seeing new signage constructed on top of the arrivals gate, actually leaving the airport felt surreal.

This small international airport serves as the gateway to the Hadhramaut region, the largest and historically most significant area of southern Yemen.

The terminal is compact but beautiful, and refreshingly uncomplicated compared to Cairo’s Terminal 1.

Immigration moved quickly: Officers at a first desk examined our visa documents and led us to another desk farther down for photos and fingerprints.

We waited 10 minutes and an officer came out asking for “the Americans.” We were led inside an office on the left to take out a page of stickers to put in our passports as visas.

Then with two stamps — one on the visa sticker, another on a slip of paper we were told not to lose until departure (a small entry ticket you receive with your passport when arriving in Yemen, required when exiting) — we cleared immigration within 20 minutes.

Once in the arrivals area, our armed escorts Mohammed and Hossain, with guide Abdul Kareem, walked up to greet us (not many other tourists to mix us up with). Armed escorts are mandatory for tourists in Hadhramaut.

After a series of welcomes and sighs of relief, we drove straight from the airport into Seiyun proper to exchange money. $50 USD gets you 80,000 rials at time of posting:

Within minutes we walked to a local shop to purchase Yemeni outfits in central Seiyun.

The largest city in southern Yemen, Seiyun serves as the administrative capital of the Hadhramaut region and home to approximately 2 million people, 135,000 of whom live in multi-story mud-brick buildings with distinctive white-trimmed windows unique to this region of the Gulf.

We started at the city gate of the old town, predominantly the mud-brick buildings this region is famous for:

Walking through it literally feels like stepping back through centuries:

We made a full loop around the town, keeping our bearings in relation to the centrally dominant Sultan’s Palace, officially known as the Kathiri Palace or Sultan Palace Museum, which appears on the back of every 1000 Yemeni rial bill.

This moonrise’s good timing gives this palace its due:

The Al-Handal Souk provided our first real immersion into daily Yemeni life at the obligatory city market. Unlike tourist-oriented bazaars in other Middle Eastern cities, this market serves only locals. We wandered past stalls selling textiles, fruit, and honey. The atmosphere was calm and friendly, with vendors greeting us with frequent hellos and welcomes without asking us to buy anything. That said, I did buy some keffiyehs as mementos to start my trip.

Hawta: Our Base

During sunset, Mohammed and Abdul Kareem drove us to a viewpoint as kids played soccer in the desert. The sun descends quickly in the desert. As golden hour transitioned to dusk, the valley’s character transformed. Lights flickered on, the call to prayer echoed across the valley, and the temperature dropped from comfortable to cool in minutes.

We then drove approximately 20 minutes into Hawta, a smaller, quieter town that would serve as our base for most of our nights this week. The accommodation was gorgeous. Couldn’t ask for anything more.

..and we started off with some shisha from the rooftops.

For dinner: curry chicken, grilled fish, local hummus, fruit, and in Bruce’s words, “the best lentil soup I ever had.”

Sitting back on the rooftop with the leftovers of our shisha after that first meal, I reflected on the 6 year journey since reaching this point. The first visit before heading to Socotra, reading news of Yemen’s complex developments and setbacks, the visa complications, the limited flight options, the State Department warnings, the logistical complexity…all of it faded into the background against the reality of actually being here (although I think I spoke too soon here considering what we woke up to the next morning…).

Welcome to southern Yemen: a place where civilization has thrived for millennia despite (or because of) its unique environment. A region that produced frankincense for ancient trade routes, architectural innovations that predate skyscrapers by centuries, and Islamic scholarship that has influenced the entire Muslim world.

It’s great to be back.

- At time of posting in Seiyun, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 29% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: this is perfect weather. seriously.

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Grenada Más

Calvin Sun — Tue, 04 Nov 2025 17:05:15 +0000

🇬🇩 190 down. 3 to go.

After our 3 day stay in Dominica, we took a long hour-and-a-half drive back to the airport from our Portsmouth lodgings, stopping for a quick photo opportunity along the way.

Dominica’s airport is tiny. You wait outside before entering the two-person sized security screening room. If you don’t have a plastic bag for liquids, you’ll need to purchase a small ziplock at the Oasis Café in the check-in lounge for 2 Eastern Caribbean Dollars.

The largest room in the airport is the check-in lounge itself, while the departures area feels even smaller. That said, you’ll likely run across the construction for a larger international airport just down the road 10 minutes away if you’re driving west towards Portsmouth.

After boarding InterCaribbean Airways JY 713 at 12:10pm for a 50-minute hop to Barbados, we connected onto JY 748 at 2:00pm, landing back in Grenada at 2:55pm.

This time we splurged: 2 nights at Six Senses La Sagesse, entirely on IHG points. This brand-new property, which opened recently in April 2024 and was constructed using only natural, renewable and repurposed materials, sits along Grenada’s southern coast and represents Six Senses’ first Caribbean resort and first resort in the Americas.

In addition to its open-air architecture and private pools in each lodging, Six Senses is known for its focus on a theme of local sustainability; staff led us to a spice stand where we could mix Grenada’s legendary local spices. Instead of being discarded, leftover tumeric, butterfly pea, soursop, bay leaf, ginger, and cinnamon were ground up for us new guests to take home as tea and souvenirs.

Then came our room: even the most basic category features its own private plunge pool!

The property itself feels like its own ecosystem. Secluded lawns transition into dedicated areas: a kids’ zone, a teens’ lounge, a watersports center, and even a nature path lined with fitness calisthenics options.

Their spa complex features a large jacuzzi, communal Finnish sauna, cold plunge, foot baths, and even a “body hack ritual” with compression stockings and heated back band vibrators.

Dining options include Callaloo, the all-day restaurant by the communal main pool; complimentary ice cream at Scoops; and fine dining at SeaFire by the sea.

Every morning at Callaloo, breakfast began with shots of apple cider vinegar affectionately nicknamed “Rocket Fuel.” At SeaFire, we indulged in exceptional duck dishes for dinner. The pool bar served popcorn salted with various local spices, and we ended our evenings back at Callaloo with lemongrass basil-infused crème brûlée—a perfect finale to each day.

On our second morning, we booked a full-day tour, driving west along the coast through fishing villages before winding up through Belvidere Estate, where most of Grenada’s famous spices actually grow. This is the “Spice Island” after all.

Our first stop was Laura’s Herb & Spice Garden, where Laura herself gave us a private tour showing how Grenada earned its aromatic reputation.

Trees and bushes growing nutmeg, cinnamon, butterfly pea, moringa, tumeric, cacao, coffee, soursop, aloe, tamarind, peppermint, basil, bay leaves; you name it, we smelled it, tasted it, and would have bought it all if our luggage allowed.

From the gardens, we drove to Fort Frederick above St. George’s for panoramic harbor views.

Recently restored, we had the entire fort to ourselves as we gazed down on the capital.

Looking into the distance, we could spot Grand Anse Beach stretching along the coast.

We then headed into Saint George to explore the town . . .

. . . stopping for awhile at the House of Chocolate to trace the journey from Grenada’s local raw cocoa to finished chocolate, with plenty of complimentary samples along the way.

The town’s colonial architecture and colorful hillside buildings create one of the Caribbean’s most photogenic capitals.

Next came Annandale Falls & Forest Park, featuring a short five-minute nature trail before reaching the cascades.

You can dive from a small platform or venture behind the waterfalls for a different perspective.

Instead of visiting a rum distillery (since we don’t drink), we stopped at Gouyave Nutmeg Processing Station. This is where you actually see and feel why they call it Spice Island. Nutmeg in every form imaginable, with samples included, and processing still done largely by hand using traditional methods.

Our final island stop brought us to Grand Etang National Park, a volcanic crater lake surrounded by rainforest. We first checked in at the small introductory museum.

At the trailhead just behind the museum, we took a 15-minute hike to the Morne Labaye watch tower for sweeping views over the rainforest canopy.

On our return, we caught glimpses of Grand Etang Lake through the trees.

After 6 hours touring the island, we returned at 3:45pm and just in time for the hotel’s complimentary candle-making class, also sustainably using only the materials that were supposed to be tossed but instead would be reused for candle-making. We were the only guests who showed up!

The next day, we took it slow. With no alarms set and nowhere to be, we simply absorbed the serenity of Six Senses before catching our 4:22pm direct flight back to NYC, arriving 37 minutes early at 7:53pm.

At World’s End

Grenada now completes it for me in the entirety of the Western Hemisphere! With 190 of 193 UN member states now under my belt, only 3 remain for me: Sudan, Niger (which requires more than an airport layover), and a technical return to the holy lands to visit territories beyond what I accessed from Syria’s side of the Golan Heights.

Nothing special other than the reminder that the final few destinations of any journey now carries a different kind of meaning.

- At time of posting in Grenada, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 82% | Wind Speed: 19km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny

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Dominica-n’t Miss This

Calvin Sun — Sat, 01 Nov 2025 17:36:00 +0000

From St. Vincent, we boarded InterCaribbean Airways JY 717 at 12:20pm. Their new airport, however, was built just 8 years ago and still has some operational quirks. The staff double-printed my first leg itinerary from St. Vincent to Barbados without including my onward ticket to Dominica. Fortunately, Mel caught the error as we were about to walk onto the tarmac to board. Staff made a frantic dash to bring ticket paper to the gate and print my Barbados-to-Dominica boarding pass. That’s a first for me!

There’s a testament to Prime Minister Ralph Gonsalves’s political alignment here. Note that he has served for 24 years and has been the longest-serving democratically elected state leader globally, so it wasn’t a surprise to see a “Coalition of the Willing” portrait gallery by the VIP lounge stairwell, featuring Fidel Castro, Ralph Gonsalves, and Nicolás Maduro displayed side by side (off to the left in the photo below):

We landed in Barbados (BGI) an hour later with enough time to rest in their only lounge before boarding our 2:35pm connection on JY 740 to Dominica.

Another hour’s flight later, we touched down on the Nature Island of the Caribbean: Dominica.

Checking In: Intercontinental Dominica Cabrits Resort & Spa

To book a taxi outside of arrivals, you can either pay in $80 USD cash to wherever you’re going, or save about $10 USD if you go to the airport’s ATM outside arrivals and pay 200XCD in local Eastern Caribbean Dollars. For us, we did the XCD route where after taking an hour’s drive to Portsmouth, we checked into the InterContinental Dominica Cabrits Resort & Spa, entirely booked on IHG points.

This glorious property sits on the northwestern coast, nestled between rainforest and the Caribbean Sea.

Enjoy its open-air architecture, infinity pools that blend seamlessly into the horizon, and the dramatic backdrop of Cabrits National Park.

The property also sits next to a horse ranch where you can book horse-riding tours along their private beach.

Also a random, grazing cow:

You can also hike directly from the property into the attached Cabrits National Park. First time seeing a noni fruit in the wild!

The resort’s design is intentional, sustainable, and sumptuous. Each room features a balcony or terrace inviting the ocean breeze inside, while spa treatments incorporate local herbs and volcanic minerals.

Thanks to complimentary Platinum Elite status from IHG Credit Card ownership and the relative scarcity of guests (we counted at most ten other visitors during our stay) we received a triple upgrade from the most basic room to the Kwéyòl Suite. This suite features a separate living room and bathroom, plus a balcony with private lounge seating and bathtub.

Within half an hour of checking in, we headed to the spa for their weekly restorative yoga at 6pm. Tony, the on-site Ukrainian yoga teacher/singer/sound bath practitioner/multi-hyphenate (who had recently worked in Kurdistan Iraq), decided to take us to the edge of the hotel’s pier dock for an hour of restorative yoga under the stars.

What to Do in Dominica

Nicknamed the “Nature Island” for good reason, Dominica is an island of waterfalls, hot springs, volcanic terrain, and rainforests untouched by mega-tourism. We began our tour the next morning with a hotel breakfast with this view:

Today was “Creole/Kwéyòl Day,” when locals dress in traditional, colorfully patterned Creole clothing.

Our half-day city tour doubled as an immersive history and nature experience, beginning at our request with Titou Gorge.

Life jackets are mandatory for swimming through Titou Gorge. Since it’s easy to become submerged, don’t bring your phone unless it’s waterproof and floatable. You swim approximately ten minutes through a narrow river-cut canyon ending at two private waterfalls; an unforgettable experience.

Sulphur Spa: We then drove to a village famous for its hot springs. One of their many sulphur spas features a series of tiered geothermal pools, each at a different temperature, framed by tropical flora. Soaking in these mineral-rich waters as the sun set through the steam felt utterly magical.

Roseau Valley (Drive-through): As we ascended through the valley, we glimpsed colorful villages, fruit trees laden with mangoes, and caught the distinctive scent of sulfur wafting from hidden geothermal vents. We stopped at Freshwater Lake, one of Dominica’s pristine mountain reservoirs.

Trafalgar Falls: Possibly Dominica’s most iconic natural site, these twin waterfalls (known affectionately as “Mama” and “Papa”) plunge down fern-draped cliffs into clear, swimmable pools below. A short, well-marked trail brings you up close to their thunder of mist.

Morne Bruce: Just a short drive uphill from the gardens, this panoramic viewpoint of Rouseau offers spectacular views.

Dominica Botanic Gardens: Conceived in 1889 and established in 1890-1891, this lush sanctuary in Roseau once served as an agricultural research station. We strolled among towering palms and vibrant heliconias, and saw the haunting remains of a school bus crushed by a fallen baobab tree during Hurricane David in 1979.

Dominica Museum: Housed in a former colonial post office directly facing the cruise dock, this compact museum tells the island’s story through indigenous artifacts, colonial relics, and memories of resilience through natural disasters. We didn’t go inside this time, but it’s worth noting for history buffs. We instead celebrated Creole Day by grabbing authentic Dominican food at The Banana Tree Bar & Grill in town.

After lunch, we walked along Roseau’s waterfront, where mega cruise ships typically dock.

A Day of Rest

On our third day, we did exactly what you’re supposed to do in a place like Dominica: absolutely nothing.

The next morning we took a long hour-and-a-half drive back to the airport from our Portsmouth lodgings, pausing for a quick photo stop along the way.

After boarding InterCaribbean Airways JY 713 at 12:10pm for a 50-minute hop to Barbados, we connected onto JY 748 at 2:00pm, landing back in Grenada at 2:55pm.

- At time of posting in Dominica, it was 32 °C - Humidity: 63% | Wind Speed: 29km/hr | Cloud Cover: occasional rainstorms, and then hot, sunny, and humid

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Dead Men Tell No Layovers: St. Vincent & The Grenadines in 12 Hours

Calvin Sun — Thu, 30 Oct 2025 03:22:17 +0000

Fresh off a quick overnight in Grenada (courtesy of a free JetBlue voucher from last October’s Welcome to Chinatown gala), we touched down at Maurice Bishop International Airport at 1:53pm.

This marked the beginning of a 3-country Caribbean island-hopping adventure to complete 3 of my final 5 UN member states.

The Royalton Grenada was a 4-minute taxi ride from the airport; so short I felt we could have saved the $10-$12 and walked it.

But as an all-inclusive resort with beachfront cabanas and all the amenities, I’d scored a discount with the Amex Platinum, so we did what any reasonable person would do: ate our weight in buffet food and relaxed by the pool.

The next morning we woke early to board the 8:00am InterCaribbean Airways flight JY 703, landing in St. Vincent (SVD) by 8:45am.

Our tour guide Devon arrived precisely at 8:45am to pick us up. With exactly one day to see as much of the island as physically possible before moving on, we set out on our whirlwind exploration.

We started at Arnos Vale with a view of Young Island and Fort Duvernette rising behind it.

Continuing along the main road, we stopped at the site of the old airport, now converted into a shopping center.

Its former runway serves as a new road, while the control tower has been transformed into a rooftop bar.

We then reached the capital, Kingstown, touring through the predominantly commercial town.

Very few people live in Kingstown itself; the culture here is that the entire island commutes into Kingstown for work, then returns home to other parts of the island in the evening, leaving Kingstown as a ghost town by nightfall.

The city center features its fair share of historic churches, each adding to the colonial architectural of this waterfront capital.

From Kingstown, we drove up along the northwestern part of the main road, which curves like a smile along the island’s coast; no complete ring road exists yet.

We stopped for sweeping views of Kingstown from the town of Layou.

From Layou, you can also spot the Sandals resort nestled along the coastline.

Continuing to Peter’s Hope, we glimpsed Little Bay and the abandoned attempt to build another resort there; a reminder of development dreams that never materialized.

We passed the Belle Isle Correctional Facility in Barrouallie after a series of switchbacks:

. . . and admired the town’s reinforced sea wall, built to protect against the Atlantic’s persistent waves.

Then came Wallilabou Bay, where they filmed the original Pirates of the Caribbean.

Some of the sets and props remain, slowly succumbing to the tropical humidity; a reminder of Hollywood’s temporary presence in this Caribbean paradise.

We continued through a view of Rose Bank . . .

. . . before reaching Dark View Falls near the end of the accessible road.

This twin waterfall setup lies tucked behind a bamboo grove, a bamboo suspension bridge, and a $5 entrance fee.

We weaved past the lower falls and climbed about 3-4 stories of concrete stairs, skipped across a stream, and were rewarded with views of the higher falls:

From Dark View Falls, we drove to the extreme northwest at Richmond, where remnants of La Soufrière’s volcanic eruption from April 2021 still leave their mark. The ash and traces remain visible throughout the landscape,

The river has nearly dried up, leaving behind an empty, barren, yet surprisingly fertile bank now used as cannabis farms; a testament to volcanic soil’s paradoxical nature.

We then turned back into Richmond town for a pilaf and chicken & mutton roti lunch at Beach Front Restaurant & Bar.

Instead of visiting St. Vincent Botanical Gardens (the oldest in the Western Hemisphere, established in 1765) or Montreal Gardens up in the Mesopotamia Valley, Devon took us to his childhood favorite: Wallilabou Heritage Park (also a $5 entrance fee).

Here you can find the island’s oldest petroglyph.

A stunning place to have a family gathering for a picnic:

Heading back toward Kingstown, Devon drove us down to view Questelles Beach . . .

. . . . then up the upper crust neighborhood of Dorsetshire Hill for a grand panoramic view of the island.

Turning around past a staircase behind a radar tower, we saw Kingstown in all its glory from above: pastel buildings, humid air, harbor lights glinting in the distance. The capital doesn’t attract much tourist attention, which probably works in its favor.

By late afternoon, Devon dropped us off to check into the newly built Holiday Inn Express, after which we grabbed dinner next door at Diamond Terrace.

One day in St. Vincent; not enough time, but also exactly the right amount for what we needed to see.

- At time of posting in Saint Vincent's, it was 30 °C - Humidity: 75% | Wind Speed: 19km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and humid

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Getting Away With Robbinsville: The Akshardham Redemption

Calvin Sun — Mon, 06 Oct 2025 16:08:40 +0000

One of my more unique camping trips to have monsooned; this is what happens when you plan a camping trip months in advance just to visit a temple arguably worth seeing as a world-class destination.

I was stuck at work all day Friday as Eddie took the initiative to picked up Yuhan at 2pm from their local LIC neighborhood in his SUV. They then drove down to NoHo to collect Mel and Jenny by 3pm, and then headed to the campsite an hour south of Manhattan to get the tents up. Then, after my shift ended at 8pm, I made my way to 34th and 8th near Madison Square Garden where Evie was waiting to pick me up in her car. We then drove down to our campsite by Crystal Lake near Bordentown, NJ.

By10:40pm as we pulled into the campsite, the group was already halfway through dinner. The skewers Eddie had picked up ahead from Flushing were sizzling over the campfire, filling an October air with that unmistakable aroma of meat marinated by the camaraderie of those of us who grew up on them.

What struck me most about camping south of the city instead of our usual upstate haunts was the relative warmth. While our typical Catskills adventures involve layers upon layers, here we were enjoying just a blanket over a t-shirt.

After a late meal punctuated by our exceptional skewer game, we finally crashed around midnight.

A Lazy Morning and Local Honey

What a luxury to get in a full 8 hours of sleep while camping! We woke naturally with the sun, no alarms, no urgency, no plans…you name it.

As we got up one by one, I watched my camp flames dance as we waited for our coffee to percolate the old-fashioned way in my Bialetti Moka Pot. We then moved on to cook bacons and eggs over the campfire. Jenny finally got to try some specially cured bacon she found at the grocery store (along with her Toffee Crunch Oreo).

Around mid-morning, we packed into our cars and headed to Birds & Bees Farm only 3 minutes away. This wasn’t your typical roadside honey stand. The family-owned apiary has bee hives scattered around their property each one buzzing with activity even this late in the season.

We got to learn about varietal honey and how the flavor changes based on what flowers the bees pollinate. For example the New Jersey Wildflower variety was different from their Butterfly Pea, which was entirely different from their Lavender Infused option. Each jar was raw and unpasteurized, containing all the natural pollens, wax, propolis, minerals, and enzymes that get stripped out in commercial honey processing.

Inducing a little bit of prediabetes by sampling nearly all of them, we each grabbed a few jars of different varieties to take home.

Pick Your Own Farm

From the bees it was a 10 minute drive to Specca’s Pick Your Own Farm, a 125-acre operation that’s been family-run since 1958. What makes Specca’s unique is their focus on ethnic crops: over 100 different varieties catering to customers from Africa, the Americas, Asia, the Mediterranean, Eastern Europe, and the Caribbean. Due to the local Turkish communities in the area, many of the signage was in both English and Turkish.

When we arrived, the fields were packed with dozens of international families, all armed with baskets, scissors, and knives, combing through endless rows of vegetables. The farm operates on a simple premise: you pick as much as you want, they weigh it at the scale house when you leave, and you pay by the pound.

There’s something deeply satisfying about harvesting your own dinner. Watching families with young children see where their food comes from, and seeing first-generation immigrants get excited they find vegetables from their home countries reminded me why these kinds of places have value beyond just the transaction of buying produce at a supermarket.

Unlike the more traditional apple or blueberry u-pick operations, Specca’s focuses on a vegetable-oriented adventure. We trekked under the sun through sections growing everything familiar and exotic; crops we recognized and many we’d never heard of. They even grew Bak Choy!

We spent close to 2 hours there, filling bags with vegetables we’d cook that evening as Raubern came in at the end to join us. No time limits, no pressure, just the simple pleasure of being on a working farm on a beautiful autumn afternoon.

BAPS Swaminarayan Akshardham

By 4pm, we loaded our produce back into the cars and drove 20 minutes northeast. This was the entire reason we’d chosen to camp in this direction rather than our usual upstate spots: the BAPS Swaminarayan Akshardham temple in Robbinsville.

I’d read about it when it opened in 2023, but nothing prepares you for the scale of this place in person.

The complex dominates the landscape. At 183 acres, it’s the largest Hindu temple in the Western Hemisphere and the third-largest in the world.

But size alone doesn’t capture it. What makes Akshardham remarkable is that it was built entirely by tens of thousands volunteers as part of seva (selfless service), a practice central to Hindu spirituality. Construction began in 2015 and took eight years to complete.

Although entry is free, you need to reserve a time slot online for weekends and holidays. There’s a strict dress code as well: no sleeveless tops, nothing revealing shoulders, chest, back, or knees, no offensive imagery. They let Evie keep her service dog on the grounds, however, although she had to leave Charly outside when we explored the mandirs.

Haven’t eaten since breakfast, we first headed to the temple cafeteria to satisfy our hunger. And that’s where I ran into Ben from our Haiti & Dominican Republic 2012 monsoon!

He spotted me first by calling my name across the seating area. It’s been 13 years, and here we were, at a Hindu temple in suburban New Jersey, both equally surprised. We caught up quickly; his life, my life, the other monsooners we’d kept in touch with. It was one of those perfect coincidences at a place like BAPS like none other. Monsooners are now everywhere!

After he left with his group and we finished our late lunch, we started at the Welcome Center, a stunning example of Indian Haveli-style architecture built entirely from hand-carved Burmese Teak wood that reminded me of the arrivals hall in Thimphu.

Next came the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, a smaller temple on the campus built between 2010 and 2014. Constructed in the traditional Nagaradi style using 68,000 cubic feet of Italian Carrara marble, it stands 87 feet wide, 133 feet long, and 42 feet high. We removed our shoes before entering.

Inside were 13 shrines dedicated to various Hindu deities. The central shrine houses images of Swaminarayan and Gunatitanand Swami, worshipped together as Akshar Purushottam Maharaj. The sacred image of Swaminarayan is 15.5 feet tall, crafted from panchdhatu (an alloy of five metals: gold, silver, copper, zinc, and iron). The throne beneath is adorned with swans and elephants, each detail meticulously carved.

Then we approached the main structure: the Mahamandir.

It’s difficult to describe without getting hyperbolic. The temple uses traditional Indian architectural styles but on a scale that feels almost impossible to achieve here in the States. Every surface is covered in intricate stone carvings with over 10,000 statues and carved images depicting Hindu deities, historical figures, and spiritual teachings. Along the walls are carvings of Martin Luther King Jr., Abraham Lincoln, and other figures who embodied the values of service and spiritual leadership.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the temple’s spires, creating patterns that shifted as we walked. There was something deeply peaceful about being there, even surrounded by hundreds of other visitors. Perhaps it’s the absence of commercialization that you’d expect in India outside each temple: no hawkers, no gift shop pressure, just space to reflect. Literally and figuratively, it’s simply India with nice weather.

Eventually we finished at the temple shop, where we grabbed some snacks and incense for the road.

Farm to Table

We returned to our tents as darkness settled in, the temperature dropping just enough to make the campfire our first priority of the night.

This is where Ronak cracked out her cases of marinated Korean BBQ galbi that she had been keeping cool all weekend. Now, with our picked vegetables from Specca’s, we had the makings of a genuinely farm-to-table meal. And unsurprisingly, the vegetables we’d picked that afternoon simply taste better (aka FRESH) when you’d harvested them yourself just hours earlier. And so we spent the next few hours cooking and eating everything over the fire and portable grills.

By 1am, thoroughly stuffed and slightly smoked out, we packed our leftovers in the coolers and retreated to our tents.

The Cranberry Festival

Another lazy morning. We woke around 9am and took our time with coffee and eating last night’s leftovers, reluctant to pack up and leave. But by the early afternoon, we’d broken camp, dumped out our trash, and headed into Bordentown proper.

The 35th Annual Cranberry Festival was in full swing along Farnsworth Avenue, the main commercial strip transformed into a sprawling street fair. Over 40,000 people were expected across the weekend, drawn by more than 150 vendors selling everything from handcrafted goods to local food.

We wandered through vendor tents, sampling chocolates, nuts, and tea,. Live music spilled from a beer garden. The whole affair had that pleasant vibe of a well-established community event where everyone seems to know everyone, and even if you’re a stranger, you’re welcomed into the chaos.

We grabbed coffee and random snacks and by 4pm, with traffic likely to build, we decided to call it.

The drive back took us through the familiar progression from suburban New Jersey back to the density of the city, arriving home around 6pm. And as I stood in my first shower in days, letting hours of campfire smoke wash off, I reflected on seeing the massive Hindu temple in New Jersey. A family honey farm breeding super queen bees. A pick-your-own operation growing over 100 varieties of ethnic crops. A small-town festival celebrating cranberries and community. Running into Ben after thirteen years.

All in less than 48 hours.

- At time of posting in Robbinsville, it was 24 °C - Humidity: 61% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and beautiful

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A Quick Halifax Check

Calvin Sun — Fri, 12 Sep 2025 21:49:03 +0000

After two days in Saint-Pierre (and a turbulent ferry ride to Miquelon and back), we boarded an hour-and-a-half direct Air Saint-Pierre 9am flight to Halifax, landing around 9:30am local time (Halifax runs an hour behind Saint-Pierre),

Our onward flight to NYC wasn’t until 2:50pm, and since there are no lounges in Halifax airport’s US-bound terminal, we seized the opportunity to squeeze in a few hours exploring Halifax.

After clearing customs, we grabbed an Uber to the harbor-side Marriott to see if they’d hold our bags. Fortunately, they agreed…though we wouldn’t count on this every time, so don’t bank on it if you’re planning the same route. With time ticking, we mapped out an ambitious walking loop of the city.

We started along the harbor, passing the ferry terminal and a charming small lighthouse.

Nearby, we discovered the Tidal Beacon, a beautiful kinetic sculpture that dances with wind and tide, and a perfect introduction to Halifax’s blend of maritime heritage and contemporary art.

From there, we headed west to Province House, home to Nova Scotia’s legislative assembly. A small press conference was underway to the left of security, regarding a young woman who had lost her life to sepsis amid Nova Scotia’s overburdened hospital system. As someone in the medical field, the topic hit close to home and momentarily captivated my attention. My trance broke when a friendly staffer, after a security check, offered us a complimentary 15-minute tour.

We got to take photos inside the upper chamber . . .

. . . the old library where the Supreme Court once convened . . .

. . . and the Red Room, a formal venue for receiving dignitaries.

Continuing our circuit, we walked through Grand Parade, the central square where Halifax City Hall and St. Paul’s Church face each other across a green dotted with war memorials.

St. Paul’s Church, just steps from the memorial, holds the distinction of being Halifax’s oldest building.

From there, we climbed to Citadel Hill and paid the CAD $13 admission to explore the historic fort.

The Army Museum inside proved surprisingly comprehensive, and we were delighted to accidentally catch the daily noon cannon blast, a moment of redemption after waiting futilely for the same ceremony atop Signal Hill in St. John’s earlier in our trip. Sometimes wishes come true only after you’ve stopped expecting them.

After descending the hill, we made a quick stop at Halifax Central Library to admire its striking modern architecture, a bold contemporary statement in this historic city.

With our two-hour window rapidly closing, we made a final dash to St. Mary’s Basilica Cathedral, where a quiet service was in progress.

We concluded our whirlwind city tour at The Old Burying Ground across the street, one of Halifax’s oldest cemeteries dating back to 1749.

From there, we hailed an Uber back to the Marriott to collect our luggage and return to the airport for our journey home. All told, we faxed in a full Halifax morning!

- At time of posting in Halifax, it was 17 °C - Humidity: 59% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and clear

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Miquelon Impossible

Calvin Sun — Fri, 12 Sep 2025 00:27:25 +0000

Sometimes the most spontaneous detours leave the strongest impressions.

That morning in Saint Pierre, we hadn’t planned on leaving the island. But after completing two walking tours around St. Pierre and checking the ferry schedule, we realized we could still catch the 3:00pm boat to Miquelon. We looked at each other, shrugged, and said, “Why not?”

After paying €24 per person for round-trip tickets, we boarded our 90-minute ferry ride to Miquelon. Pro tip: stay on the left side for the best views as you depart and arrive.

By 4:30pm, we were stepping off the ferry onto the quieter, more remote sister island of Miquelon.

The Quieter Sister Island

While Saint-Pierre serves as the better-known, bustling hub of this French overseas territory, Miquelon is the larger but quieter sibling. Geographically fascinating, Miquelon and neighboring Langlade are actually two separate islands connected by a narrow sandy isthmus called the Dune de Langlade, stretching over 13 miles as one of the world’s longest natural sandbars.

Sparsely populated and rugged, the island shelters fewer than 600 residents, many descended from Basque and Acadian settlers.

It carries the atmosphere of a remote Atlantic outpost, where the wind does most of the talking.

Village Life at the Edge of the New World

From the ferry, we walked into the heart of the main village toward Église de Miquelon, its modest steeple rising above rooftops like a compass needle for locals to know where the town center is.

Simple wooden houses line gravel streets, their shutters painted in soft, weather-worn pastels that speak to decades of Atlantic storms.

We encountered perhaps half a dozen people during our exploration, each offering a friendly wave or nod, where there’s a genuine acknowledgment you’d find in places where everyone knows everyone.

After two leisurely rounds walking through sleepy, windswept Miquelon, we returned to catch our ferry back to Saint Pierre.

A Rough Return

The return journey proved far from pleasant.

What had been a smooth crossing to Miquelon transformed into a stomach-churning ordeal on the way back. The wind intensified and seas turned rough, with waves slamming against the hull as the boat pitched violently side to side while lurching up and down. I couldn’t fathom how the ship maintained forward progress through such chaos.

About halfway through the crossing, passengers around us began reaching for barf bags or lying motionless with eyes squeezed shut. Staff members circulated offering additional barf bags, plastic bags to contain those, and water-dampened paper towels for queasy foreheads. The scene felt straight out of the scene out of Triangle of Sadness. Sometimes that’s exactly the kind of authentic experience that makes a journey truly memorable.

When we docked back in Saint-Pierre remarkably on schedule an hour and a half later, the stable gravel walk to our hotel felt like pure luxury. We grabbed some hotel food, recentered ourselves, and turned in early, knowing our morning flight to Halifax on Air Saint-Pierre awaited just hours away.

Farewell to French Territory

On our final morning, we boarded the 9am PJ1121 flight back to Halifax, allowing plenty of time to catch our 2:30pm direct flight to NYC.

This quick but immersive side trip to Saint-Pierre & Miquelon felt like stepping into a tiny time capsule of France: the perfect conclusion to this stretch of Atlantic Canada exploration.

- At time of posting in Miquelon, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 100% | Wind Speed: 26km/hr | Cloud Cover: rainy and windy

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48 Hours in a Little Saint-Pierre-ce of France

Calvin Sun — Thu, 11 Sep 2025 23:10:28 +0000

After three days soaking in St. John’s charm, we dropped off our rental car at YYT Saint John’s airport to catch the rare 5pm direct flight (PH1127) via Air Saint-Pierre to Saint-Pierre & Miquelon: one of the few weekly connections between Newfoundland and this unique French overseas territory.

Check-in opens 90 minutes before departure (3:30pm for our flight) and literally takes under 3 minutes. Within an hour, we were boarding.

Though geographically closer to Newfoundland than France, Saint-Pierre & Miquelon is a full-fledged overseas territory (like Réunion or Mayotte off the eastern coast of Africa) making it a remnant of France’s former empire tucked away in the North Atlantic behind Canadian Newfoundland. This piece of France’s once-sprawling North American ambitions remained French long after Canada became British.

Today, these islands represent the last French territory in North America and one of the few places where you can buy a croissant with euros just 25 kilometers from Canadian shores.

Having previously been to Mayotte and Réunion, I couldn’t help but search for that familiar sensation during our quick 42-minute flight: the distinctive blend of mainland France woven into landscapes worlds away from the motherland. Different oceans, different latitudes, but the same surreal beauty of being in France while being nowhere near it.

Since Canada doesn’t stamp US passports upon exit, Saint-Pierre & Miquelon provides your EU entry stamp.

A Transported World

An airport pickup from our hotel delivered us into this transported world: gravel roads and cobblestone streets, colorful houses, and tricolor flags fluttering over the harbor. The scattered arrangement of brightly colored wooden house facades in this capital city particularly reminded me of Longyearbyen or ittoqqortoormiit.

As if France had colonized Scandinavia and transplanted it to northern North America.

Our Self-Guided Exploration

With two nights and a full day to explore, we began with our first official meal: a splendid sunset dinner at our hotel, Les Terrasses du Port.

We then set off on foot through this compact, walkable town after dark, reaching the ferry offices on the harbor’s opposite end within 20 minutes.

The predominantly French-speaking locals descend mainly from Norman, Breton, and Basque settlers, with additional English and Irish ancestry from historical migrations and intermarriage with nearby Canadian Newfoundlanders.

The architecture channels Basque influences while cafés serve Bordeaux wines. The pace remains unhurried and nostalgic…like a time capsule of provincial France with an island twist, perpetually prepared for annual “snowpocalypses.” Notice how remarkably high some doorways are built!

From the ferry terminal we continued our tour:

La Poste de Saint-Pierre, an Alsatian-style postal office with a tower shaped like a monk.

The central Place du Général de Gaulle, facing just across La Poste de Saint-Pierre:

Musée Héritage – A private collection focused on religion, medicine, and Prohibition-era smuggling.

We returned the next day when it reopened at 2pm to explore recreated hospital operating rooms, cinemas, churches, a bootlegger’s backroom, and a nun’s bedroom from Saint-Pierre’s early modern era.

The Zazpiak Bat fronton, one of the few remaining clues to Saint-Pierre’s Basque heritage.

The rebuilt Cathédrale de Saint-Pierre, blending Basque, Alsatian, and local stonework into a singular architectural style.

Parks like Square Joffre:

Le Monument aux Morts commemorating their losses during World War I

Musée de l’Arche: Once home to archival exhibits and the infamous guillotine used in the 1889 Néel Affair, it’s been closed since 2024.

The serene, sloping Saint-Pierre Cemetery, filled with above-ground tombs in a layout unique in North America.

The next day, returning to Saint-Pierre in daylight, we discovered Pointe aux Canons Lighthouse and nearby cannons standing sentinel at the harbor’s edge.

This area clearly served as a defensive outpost during British raids throughout the 17th and 18th centuries . . .

. . . complete with a submarine torpedo on display.

We also spotted Les Salines: vibrant former fishing stations now used by local artisans, though they’re much more visible from the ferry perspective.

By 3pm, we’d returned to the ferry office and decided on a whim to board the hour-and-a-half ferry ride onward to Miquelon, extending our French territorial exploration even further.

- At time of posting in Saint Pierre and Miquelon, it was 12 °C - Humidity: 70% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: rainy, wet, and cold. I feel like a wet dog

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Don’t Be Dildo-Dallying

Calvin Sun — Wed, 10 Sep 2025 03:52:51 +0000

While based in St. John’s, we took a spontaneous day trip by rental car to the now-famous town of Dildo.

You’ll know when you arrive; they’re incredibly proud of their distinctive name. Though a vocal minority has repeatedly raised referendums to change it, the majority of townsfolk have struck down every attempt.

After just over an hour and a half drive along Newfoundland’s scenic Trans-Canada Highway, we pulled into the Dildo Brewery’s parking lot.

The Dildo Brewery & Museum seems to serve as the town’s main tourist attraction and focal point.

After admiring the scenery and the Hollywood-style “Dildo” sign that Jimmy Kimmel helped erect six years ago, we took a short walk uphill to the newly opened Coffee House.

There, we played a leisurely game of checkers over coffee while taking in panoramic harbor views.

Properly caffeinated, we continued around the harbor to explore the local playground and children’s ice skating pond.

Just a few minutes further down the main road, we stopped at Nan and Pop’s Souvenir Shop for appropriately quirky mementos.

At the Dildo Dory Grill (closed for the season during our visit), we discovered the legendary Captain Dildo statue; the must-see photo opportunity for visitors.

The remainder of the town revealed itself as a peaceful harbor dotted with parked yachts and fishing boats, embodying the quiet charm of coastal Newfoundland.

As the sun began to set, we wrapped up our visit with dinner and drinks back at the Dildo Brewery & Museum, savoring the last rays of sunshine on their outdoor patio before hitting the road back to St. John’s around 7pm.

Sometimes the best adventures are the unexpected ones—especially those with names you’ll never forget.

- At time of posting in Dildo, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 87% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny

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St. John’s: The Eastern Edge of Everything Everywhere All At Once

Calvin Sun — Tue, 09 Sep 2025 12:45:06 +0000

Months ago I decided to gift myself a week off after Labor Day…simply because I could. After a year as wild as this past one, I craved actual and intentional self-prioritization to restore some balance.

Finding fares under $200, I booked a morning departure: a 1.5-hour United flight (UA 8207) from Newark to Halifax (10:25am to 12:00pm), followed by a quick layover and a raid of the Maple Leaf Lounge’s to-go offerings in Montreal before catching the 2-hour UA 8407 flight from Halifax to St. John’s (1:05–5:09pm).

Within 6 hours door-to-door (or arrivals), we touched down in one of North America’s easternmost cities and Canada’s oldest settlement.

After landing, we rented a car from Avis and drove 20 minutes south to our Airbnb on Water Street, right in the middle of the oldest street in Canada’s first city.

St. John’s immediately felt like the kind of place that invited us to slow down and linger. So we did.

Over the next three days, we cobbled together a self-guided exploration, including a day for Mel to catch up on remote work and a spontaneous road trip west with a stop at the curiously named town of Dildo. Together, these experiences became our crash course in Newfoundland history, coastal geography, and fierce local pride…

. . . especially when it came to their beloved Newfoundland dogs and Labrador retrievers.

A Walking Tour Through History

After parking at the Alt Hotel for $15 CAD per night, we crossed the street and discovered our unconventional check-in process: walking through the buzzing restaurant Portage (which became one of our favorites the following evening) and casually taking the elevator in the back of their dining room…no front desk required.

The entire building had once been “The Luxury Suites” hotel, but after business declined, private investors converted it into separate Airbnb units, transforming the downstairs reception into the restaurant. With a laundry machine and kitchenette right outside our room, it was the perfect setup.

We settled in and began our stroll at Terry Fox Mile 0, the small park where a young Canadian fighting cancer dipped his foot into the Atlantic before beginning his 1980 Marathon of Hope.

We continued along the waterfront, passing the World War I memorial honoring St. John’s role in the war effort.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we watched the rising Blood Moon cast its ethereal glow over the harbor.

Just as the sky deepened into night, we settled into a 90-minute Yin-style restorative yoga session at the nearby Modo Yoga studio.

By 9:30pm, we emerged both energized and serene, then wandered down George Street to hear live music spilling from every doorway; a place where locals and travelers mingle freely, and every block promises a new story.

At local favorite Christian’s, you can get “screeched in”: a ritual performed on non-Newfoundlanders (known to locals as “come from aways” or “mainlanders”) involving a shot of screech, a short recitation, and kissing a cod. You’ll even receive your own certificate!

Savoring the Slower Pace

The next morning, after a leisurely start, we had breakfast at Bagel Café, which proudly claims to serve the best breakfast in Canada’s oldest town.

We then walked past the Supreme Court, admiring its unique granite-and-sandstone facade facing both Duckworth and Water Streets.

After a detour to Dildo on the second day, we began our third day at Signal Hill: the site where Marconi received the first transatlantic wireless signal in 1901.

Despite signs boasting that the cannon fires every noon and has missed only a handful of days in over a century, it remained silent during our visit. We waited, too!

The climb to the top rewards you with breathtaking panoramic views.

From here, we traced the cliffs to The Battery, a former sleepy fishing village now transformed into a colorful hillside neighborhood that houses a geology museum.

We briefly stopped at the downtown Sheraton, which looked like it contained its own ecosystem.

Having just received an Instagram message from a friend I’d made in NYC a few weeks ago — who works as a consultant in St. John’s and regularly stays at this very hotel — I left her a note at the front desk for her next visit.

– Edit on Sunday November 2, 2025 –

7 weeks later, she received it!

Architectural Treasures and Cultural Gems

After parking near Bannerman Park . . .

. . . we sauntered over to The Colonial Building. Constructed from white limestone imported from Cork, Ireland, it served as the seat of government until 1959.

From there, we reached Government House, the official residence of Newfoundland’s Lieutenant Governor.

We admired the manicured flowerbeds, and if you’re lucky you can go inside to sign the guestbook inside and snag free postcards.

Just up the road, the Commissariat House offers a glimpse into 1830s life through well-preserved rooms.

Next, we drove uphill to The Rooms, a striking modern structure housing the Provincial Archives, art galleries, and the Newfoundland Museum.

Built on the site of Fort Townsend, it now serves as the cultural heart of the city, offering panoramic harbor views from its upper floors.

A short drive south brought us to the Railway Coastal Museum, housed in the 1903 Riverhead Railway Station. Through dioramas, locomotives, and vintage carriages, Newfoundland’s rail and shipping heritage came alive.

We continued past the Fort Amherst overlook — directly across the harbor from Signal Hill — and after a 20-minute drive, reached our destination: Cape Spear Lighthouse, home to the easternmost point of Canada’s mainland.

After purchasing tickets, we descended the ramp to the commemorative rock marking Canada’s continental easternmost point.

From there, we explored the remarkably well-preserved World War II bunkers, designed to protect stationed military personnel from bombing runs.

These bunkers also function as tunnels leading up to the two lighthouses crowning the hill.

Climbing the steps from the bunkers, we reached the modern lighthouse, still active but closed to the public.

Just beyond stands the original lighthouse, the site’s oldest structure.

Admission includes entry inside, where you can experience how lighthouse keepers once lived and worked when this beacon first guided ships to safety.

Sprinkled throughout our sightseeing, we photographed St. John’s impressive collection of churches, all closed to the public during our visit:

The Churches of St. John’s

St. Thomas’ Anglican Church: The town’s oldest church, built in 1836 of black timber, modest yet atmospheric.

Anglican Cathedral of St. John the Baptist: Rebuilt after the Great Fire of 1892, its gothic arches anchor Church Hill with impressive grandeur.

Basilica Cathedral of St. John the Baptist: This Roman Catholic minor basilica towers above Military Road with twin 43-meter-high spires.

St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church: A Gothic Revival beauty with an iconic spire, standing proudly since 1894.

Gower Street United Church: Completed in 1896 with red brick and a distinctive tower, serving as both landmark and community gathering place.

After three days in St. John’s and our westward road trip adventure that included Dildo, we boarded a direct flight to Saint-Pierre, ready to trade one charmingly quirky world for another.

- At time of posting in St. John's, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 71% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and sunny

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Singapore Airlines Business Class FRA-JFK

Calvin Sun — Tue, 05 Aug 2025 12:21:39 +0000

After a slow morning walk and talking about our villain (antihero?) origin stories in Berlin, I hugged Daniela and Gabe goodbye, hopped on the tram for a few stops, went underground for the metro, and made it back to the hostel in time for a 1:30pm check out. Nisha, Kenny, and I then scrambled: our 3pm train to Frankfurt was selling out fast, with prices climbing by the minute. With barely enough time to pack, we bought our tickets, threw our things together, rushed down the stairs, and said our goodbyes in the lobby.

After taking an Uber over to the central train station and boarding the ICE 933 direct train to Frankfurt, we walked the length of it more times than I’d like to admit: For over half an hour we scanned end to end of the train for unreserved seats, getting politely kicked out of others, and even considering splitting up just to sit. Just as we were actually about to give up and settle for scattered single spots, I passed by a family car that had just emptied out at the last stop and only one guy remained inside. I asked if we could join him.

That guy turned out to be Simon: a fellow Tomorrowlander!

What are the odds? Within minutes, we swapped festival stories like old friends and as if we’d planned this all along. Our conversations felt so fresh discussing it, we might as well still had our wristbands on.

And just like that, our 4 hour ride to Frankfurt flew by.

Later that evening after settling into our respective hotels, we headed back into the Hauptwache area for dinner, stumbling across the Main Festival that was taking place in Frankfurt!

As we had took down some street food, we reunited with Simon and met his partner, Ilka, who had both just gotten out of watching the new Fantastic Four movie. She joined without hesitation and we stayed out for a few drinks and chatter until 1:30am, as if we’d all known each other for years.

To wrap up a month-long trip by stumbling into a new friendship like that? That’s how you end a trip like this.

The next morning and my first time all alone in 23 days, I took it slow: Woke up to a solo gym session, a post-trip massage around the corner, and bubble tea from The Alley at Nisha’s recommendation the night before when we said goodbye (I unknowingly picked the same Brown Sugar Ube that Nisha also had back in Berlin; go figure). My plan was to close out the trip with something I’d been waiting for: cashing in 60,000 Air Canada miles for my first-ever flight in Singapore Airlines Business Class.

I’m now writing this mid-flight, connected to surprisingly fast onboard WiFi, on par with what I experienced on Air Canada between Brussels and Montreal last year.

If you’re flying Singapore Airlines out of Frankfurt, your lounge access also runs through their partnership with Air Canada. That means you’ll be hanging out in the Maple Leaf Lounge:

Boarding started at 8:00am for our 8:35am flight, and somehow we were fully boarded by 8:04am.

First impression? The seat was so big I had to use my wide-angle lens just to prove such a seat can exist. The seat felt so wide, it was like sitting between a La-Z-Boy at the back of a studio apartment.

Pro tip if you’re ever on this route: snag a bulkhead seat in Row 11 or 15. You can stretch out, pile your snacks, and even curl up sideways without setting off the seat controls like you’re playing whack-a-mole.

So big, I had to use my wide-angle camera just to fit it all in:

Honestly, I think I might like this seat more than Qatar Airways’ Business Class.

Shortly after takeoff, lunch began.

First up was their signature Singapore chicken satay with onion, cucumber, and spicy peanut sauce.

Then came heirloom tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella, Iberico ham, and pesto Genovese.

For the main, I couldn’t decide… so they brought me both: braised beef cheeks and pan-fried sea bream.

Dessert? They didn’t make me choose there either: Engadine nut cake, lemon-lime sorbet, artisanal cheeses, and fresh fruit.

They followed it with a petit four set; so good I forgot to take a photo before I ate it.

And even handed out a full snack bag for the road:

A few hours later, they came around with an extra refreshment course: flat noodles in vinegar sauce with minced pork . . .

. . . followed by another filled crepe course that hadn’t been claimed by another passenger.

When I started feeling sleepy, I flipped the seat into a bed, not by pressing a button like other business class seats, but by folding it over manually via a latch behind the seat where there were pre-fitted sheets and a sleeping pillow waiting for me!

I slept for about an hour before waking up just as we landed a few minutes earlier than scheduled.

The only minor issue had on the flight were that the power outlets weren’t consistently reliable so other than for an hour after takeoff, my phone and laptops were never charged during the flight (even though the outlet’s green light was on). But everything else more than made up for it: the crew went above and beyond, offering extra snacks, additional mains, and even a personal apology from the purser when I (jokingly) mentioned I hadn’t tried all four main course options.

Would I go out of my way to fly this route again? Without hesitation.

- At time of posting in Frankfurt, it was 19 °C - Humidity: 78% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: cloudy and then sunny

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When You’ve Never Been to Berlin

Calvin Sun — Mon, 04 Aug 2025 19:58:44 +0000

If it’s not already playing, press play. And then start reading.

After 3 days in Amsterdam, Nisha, Sujay, Priscilla, Kenny, and myself boarded a 2pm direct train bound for Berlin. It was a 7.5-hour journey that gave us just enough time to reflect on our weekend in Tomorrowland, sorta reset our circadian rhythms, and brace ourselves for the next chapter: none of us have ever been to Berlin before.

We pulled into Berlin Hauptbahnhof/Central Train Station around 9:30pm and Ubered to Generator Hostel Mitte (“mitte” meaning “center” in German), where we checked in and kept it low-key with a few drinks at the bar before turning in for the night.

The next morning we joined a 10am walking tour of East Berlin, starting in front of drab, Brutalist-era buildings left over from the GDR days, like this old laundry building turned historical relic:

2 metro stops later, we emerged at a quiet park that once straddled the Berlin Wall. It now doubles as a dog run, with memorials and plaques marking the human stories behind this once fraught and very controversially painful border.

In Berlin, a double line of bricks on the sidewalk marks where the wall once stood:

We continued on to the Conrad Schumann memorial, commemorating the East German border guard who famously leapt from communism into freedom.

We then continued onto the Berlin Wall Memorial Park:

We stood over concrete slabs marking where tunnels had once been dug by desperate East Berliners hoping to escape, and where East German soldiers had tried to intercept them with their very long, obnoxious diagonal hypotenuse (when was the last time you heard that word?) wall.

Preserved sections of the wall and a watchtower still stand beside the serene St. Elisabeth Cemetery.

From atop the watchtower above the document center museum, we got a panoramic look at the entire site:

After a sobering morning, we returned to our hostel with a coffee stop at The Barn and rainy lunch along the way; Sujay and I peeled off for vegan, while the rest got Taiwanese beef noodles.

That evening we met up for dinner at No Bananas with longtime monsooner Daniela and Gabe; local friends I’d promised I’d visit in Berlin: I always keep my promises!

While the rest of the crew checked out Berlin nightlife at Berghain and Sisyphos, Sujay and I bowed out and crashed early, still catching up on sleep.

Next morning, I woke up first and treated myself to a solo brunch at Factory Girl before Sujay joined a few hours later. He had booked us a 2pm walking tour covering West Berlin, starting at Brandenburg Gate.

Then came the Reichstag, the seat of German parliament…

…and then a few paces over, the Tiergarten memorial, which was constructed as the first Red Army memorial on the orders of the Soviet Union shortly after the end of World War II.

We then passed by a view of the Victory Column…

…and walked through the haunting Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe:

It was designed so that you can walk the undulating hills within the memorial, taking symbolic note of the people around you appearing and disappearing amidst the the concrete slabs.

Nearby, we sat by the nondescript spot of the Führerbunker, where Hitler made his last stand and killed himself as the Soviet army approached.

Today, it’s marked only by a set of apartment complexes … and a bubble tea shop.

From there we walked to another preserved stretch of the Berlin Wall that runs along the Topography of Terror exhibit:

We then finished our walking tour at Checkpoint Charlie, featuring staged portraits of anonymous soldiers: one American facing East Berlin standing guard, one Soviet soldier facing West Berlin standing guard, and neither of whom at the time knew they’d become part of this symbolic photo-op:

After wrapping up our walk through Berlin’s turbulent 20th century, Sujay and I grabbed some thrift store finds to level up our outfits for another shot at Berlin nightlife, detoured for the exhibits at the free Topography of Terror museum (which documents the brutality, and both rise and fall of the Nazi regime), ordered some caffeine for Sujay at Five Elephants, before finally meeting Kenny for a low-key Vietnamese vegan dinner.

We all then returned to the hostel to take it easy until 4:30am in the morning . . . yes, 4:30am . . . where we regrouped to test our luck at Berghain.

Once we got there by Uber, each of us headed one by one where I watched friend after friend get turned away by the bouncers; as I walked up last to head in, I then decided last minute where I wouldn’t party alone wherever I ended up.

So I walked off the line and grabbed an Uber to Sisyphos, the backup plan we had all agreed on in case Berghain didn’t work out. Daniela and Gabe texted me that they already there, and I figured I’d be the first to link up. I paid the 25 euro cover, wandered a bit, and just as I was about to settle in, I got a message that the group had headed to another club, Renate, instead.

I rerouted: Hopped in another Uber, pulled up to Renate, only to learn Sujay and Kenny were just denied at the door and were now heading to, where else: Sisyphos.

At that point the sun was rising on my Uber driver and I was exhausted after taking my first all nighter in over 10 months when I was denied boarding in Toronto (oh yeah, I still remember that!). And to be clear, not with them, just with the whole night where it had been one reroute too many. I felt it was more a sign than a test, called it early, and returned back to the hostel for some much-needed rest.

The next morning, on sadly only five and a half hours of sleep, I woke up and headed to Mauerpark to meet Daniela and Gabe for a morning debrief and stroll. This park is etched in my memory as the final scene in Berlin, I Love You, and walking it in real life felt like tracing the edge of a film reel in reverse.

Screengrab from the movie:

The scene itself:

Real Life:

After a slow morning walk and some much-needed nostalgia, I jumped in a bus and said goodbye to Daniela and Gabe as I returned to the hostel. By now, Nisha, Kenny, and I were scrambling for last-minute tickets for a 3pm train to Frankfurt were jumping in price by the hour. With barely enough time to pack, we said our goodbyes in the hostel lobby.

And then, one last twist of fate!

After boarding the train and going up and down end to end of the train looking for open seating, and then getting kicked out seat after seat by people who had booked earlier and reserved their spots — even almost settling for getting separated in single open seats instead — I then walked by a family car that had just emptied out at the next stop (yeah we took that long moving around looking for seats). There was only one guy inside. I asked for permission if we could join and within minutes that guy, Simon, whose family train car we inadvertently took over, turned out to be a fellow Tomorrowlander!

What are the odds? We traded stories and laughs, and suddenly the four-hour train ride to Frankfurt passed in a wink of an eye.

- At time of posting in Berlin, it was 18 °C - Humidity: 68% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: drizzling, and then sunny, and then drizzling again

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I Amsterdand We’re Back in Amsterdam!

Calvin Sun — Thu, 31 Jul 2025 19:49:08 +0000

From Tomorrowland, because apparently we still weren’t done, 7 of us rerouted north for one last hurrah in Amsterdam, linking up with Anthony Lui and his Dutch crew.

While most of the group boarded planes home to brave the dreaded post-festival blues, we decided to keep the vibes alive for just a little longer.

How I feel now? Like Jean-Claude Van Damme holding it all together in the middle of the street. Yes, that’s a real sculpture. Yes, that’s art. And yes, of course, this is Amsterdam.

The next afternoon, I reunited with Rik, my longtime co-planner for Syria, Central Africa, and Baghdad, over brunch in Amsterdam, with Sujay joining the mischief. We schemed future Monsoon routes: Niger (properly this time)? Mainland Yemen?

Afterward, Sujay and I wandered down Albert Cuyp Market (Albert Cuypmarkt); my first time!

Later that afternoon, once we reunited with the rest of the group, we took our time strolling to our annual De Kas pilgrimage. The tradition lives on.

Day 3 in Amsterdam: Sujay snagged us timed-entry tickets for the Rijksmuseum…

…home to a few Van Goghs…

…a healthy dose of Rembrandt…

…and, of course, one of the oldest condoms in existence. So Dutch.

After an hour of art and preserved latex, we hopped in Ubers to head back. But then came a classic monsoon pivot.

We were running tight on time before our 2pm train to Berlin, and Nisha had booked us a canal tour we’d been trying to squeeze in for 3 days. With only 90 minutes left and all of our bags still at the lodgings, I made the executive decision: I’d take a quick group photo on the boat, skip the tour, and personally head back to the lodgings to grab 5 people’s luggage.

I then Uber’ed solo with all their luggage to the train station so the rest could finish the canal tour and rendezvous just in time for our ride to Berlin.

Never a dull moment . . . but always, somehow, right on time.

- At time of posting in Amsterdam, it was 18 °C - Humidity: 93% | Wind Speed: 16km/hr | Cloud Cover: absolutely gorgeously perfect

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Tomorrowland After The Fire

Calvin Sun — Wed, 30 Jul 2025 03:05:17 +0000

How’s my ankle holding up before Tomorrowland….

This is Day 0 — right after a 1500-lb bull stepped on it:

Day 8:

Day 4:

Day 17:

Not bad, right? Turns out I can be pretty decent at wound care when stakes are high: Last year was cancer, this year would be a trampled ankle. But can I enjoy Tomorrowland just once without being injured or burnt out?

Yeah, so this also just happened.

Tomorrowland had the impossible happen with a fire breaking out and consuming the Main Stage a day before hundreds of thousands of people, including 10 of my monsooners, were supposed to arrive for Weekend 1. Meanwhile, I have been kinda nearby leading a trip across northern Spain.

But somehow, Tomorrowland pulled off the unthinkable. The show went on. And my monsooners? They had the time of their lives.

As far as I’ve heard, they’ll be coming back for more!

A couple days later almost still recovering from my finish in Melilla, I reunited with 28 other monsooners in Brussels to kick off Weekend 2, starting back again at the Invited Brussels pre-party.

If you want a rundown and full scoop of Tomorrowland, I already wrote about it 2 years in a row: 2023, 2024.

This year, we upped the ante: Instead of staying in Brussels at our hotel through Global Journey, 9 of us booked an additional Airbnb in the town of Boom (where Tomorrowland takes place), and only a 9-minute walk from the festival entrance. This was a game changer, especially for my ankle; that extra few hours of rest and less walking was worth every cent.

(The rest of the crew, 16 strong, stayed with the original Global Journey Hotel package in Brussels, while 4 others: Samantha, Amanda — and Tien and Josh for a night before joining us in the Airbnb — gave the party train from Amsterdam and camping in Dreamville a try).

But from the Airbnb perspective, instead of waking up and rushing to fit in the free hotel breakfast and catching the noon bus to the festival, every morning at the Airbnb started slow and sweet before our daily serotonin storm.

Tomorrowland also introduced a new “Belgian Classics” restaurant near the Freedom Stage this year. Naturally, I booked both that and the annual fine dining experience overlooking Main Stage; 19 of us at the latter, 29 of us for the former.

Thank goodness for that because we got all 29 of us in one place because of their new restaurant, and how much easier it was to book it on their website for the exact same entry time. That alone deserves applause.

And in what’s now becoming tradition, Priyanka and I met up at The Library stage for Lost Frequencies: same time on day 2, same place as last year.

Then in classic Monsoon fashion, Ashley Koide from my 2021 Yacht Week Sardinia trip 4 years ago would walk right into me while I was sitting on the field nursing my ankle. Of all the parts of this massive crowd to choose to sift through, she would happen to go through me while I was sitting down low enough to see her and all 5 feet of her.

And who’s next to me? Nishant, also from that same Yacht Week trip. Cosmic reunion unlocked.

On day 3, we started off at the Papillon food court (formerly Mesa Garden) as a group challenge to order every fancy dish available. We loved Michelin-starred Chef Pam’s Thai stall, strawberry salad, and chicken thigh wings.

Our hot dog fingers then became our inadvertent totem again, but now enhanced with literal finger lights on a 5-foot telescoping pole. Yeah, I’m that guy.

And those fingers made it to Martin Garrix’s Aftermovie:

For our final night, we landed a table at the almost-impossible-to-book Tomorrowland Restaurant overlooking Main Stage, to end right before the final set.

We closed it out with reuniting at the front of the main stage for Martin Garrix’s final track, and then sitting together on the sloped field, taking it all in.

The next afternoon, Tomorrowland hosted their wellness recovery day in Ossengem Park by the Atomium, complete with their usual unlimited food, smoothies, massages, and facials.

And then, because we weren’t ready to stop, 7 of us headed off to Amsterdam to keep the party going with Anthony Lui and his Dutch friends, while the rest flew home and braved the post-festival blues.

This is how I feel now: like Jean-Claude Van Damme holding it all together in the middle of the street. Yes, that’s real. Yes, it’s art. Yes, it’s Amsterdam (to be continued…)

- At time of posting in Boom, Belgium, it was 19 °C - Humidity: 89% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: perfectly chilly and warm at the same time, with a dash of rain

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Melilla-ll Your Dreams Come True

Calvin Sun — Wed, 23 Jul 2025 17:36:56 +0000

After a long road trip across nearly the entire circumference of Northern Morocco, we reached our hotel by 2:00am local time earlier this morning at Hotel Melilla Puerto, trying our best to ignore all the kids trying to get in behind us due to a recent concert nearby by a Puerto Rican singer that was staying at the same hotel.

We then woke up later this morning to the quiet stirrings of a fascinating tiny city-state shaped by both Spanish and Moroccan influences. With only a few hours before Nishant’s evening flight, we packed in as much as we could.

Walking Tour of Melilla

Beginning at around 11am, we kicked things off with a short walk just 7 minutes from our hotel to Melilla la Vieja, the fortified old town.

The lower level leads you to a surprisingly calm beach, nestled beneath centuries-old walls.

Climbing the steps on the other side of the fort’s entrance brings you into the heart of the fort itself: cobbled paths, breezy overlooks, and views that make you wonder why more people don’t make it here.

We chased after Nishant’s group (who had headed out a few minutes earlier) to Cuevas del Conventico, a church leading to network of caves carved into the cliffside.

At designated times, you can enter a tunnel that leads you straight down to the sea. We missed the morning window, but Sandy was able to get us evening slots later in the day where peering down from the cliff was worth the detour.

From Cuevas del Conventico, we wandered around through Melilla la Vieja, a maze of fortress walls, narrow lanes, and sea views that would rival any coastal village.

Just around the bend, a modest lighthouse quietly offers panoramic views from its free-access summit.

A quick free climb, and you’re rewarded with free sweeping vistas of the Mediterranean and the Spanish/Moroccan borders

Climbing back down from the fort into the city center, we passed through Plaza de las Cuatro Culturas, a square dedicated to the harmonious coexistence of Christian, Muslim, Jewish, and Hindu communities.

From there we walked around the Plaza de España roundabout, the civic heart of Melilla framed by grand buildings including the old Banco de España:

In the center of the square lies Palacio de la Asamblea: Melilla’s city hall, its neoclassical design reflecting the city’s Spanish heritage.

Walking up towards the mouth of Juan Carlos I, Rey street, we gazed at Casa David J. Melul. one of the city’s most striking modernist buildings, a testament to Melilla’s eclectic architectural style.

Monumento a Enrique Nieto directly faces Casa David J. Melul:

Don’t miss Monumental Cinema Sport down the street: A charming relic of the past, blending classic Art Deco style with North African influences.

We then walked up the street passing by Edificio Tortosa, another example of Melilla’s modernist architecture:

Stopping for breakfast at Arábica café along Plaza Héroes de España, we parked by a pedestrian plaza dotted with shops, shaded benches, and people-watching opportunities.

The café faces Edificio de la Reconquista: continuous reminders that Melilla has one of the largest collections of modernist Spanish buildings outside of Barcelona.

Right by this area are a grid of small streets lined with shops and cafes (if they’re open before siesta).

After breakfast, we walked up by Sinagoga de Or Zaruah o Yamín Benarroch, a testament to Melilla’s once-thriving Jewish community, offering a glimpse into its religious and cultural life.

Then we stopped for a photo at Teatro Kursaal – Fernando Arrabal, an Art Deco gem named after the famous Spanish playwright Fernando Arrabal:

Finally we rounded out our walking tour at the end of Juan Carlos Reyes I street at Edificio de los Cristales, a unique glass-covered building that stands out among Melilla’s architectural variety and lies close by to Auditorium Carvajal.

We decided to stretch out our walk further up to Central Mosque of Melilla, which showcases the city’s shared Islamic heritage.

Turning back to our hotel, we then took a detour through Parque Hernández, a beautiful, leafy park that offers a peaceful escape from the bustling city.

After an afternoon taking a break from the heat, we said our goodbyes to Nishant leaving a day earlier to catch his onward flights for Tomorrowland (we’re seeing him tomorrow anyway), and had an early dinner back at the fort with my first time having shisa since the cancer at La Roca.

Melilla, with its layered identity and quiet charm, felt like a secret. And we were lucky enough to walk through it.

Departure from Melilla

The next morning, all 8 of us boarded our onward flights to mainland Spain, 4 of us taking the 8:45am flight to Madrid, and the other 4 taking the 10:15am flight to Malaga. Don’t rush getting here; they don’t open security checks before any flight to board until at most one hour before departure.

From there, Kenny and I continued on to Brussels to join Nishant and 25 other fellow monsooners for Tomorrowland!

- At time of posting in Melilla, it was 26 °C - Humidity: 62% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and hot

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Ceu-ta Later in Melilla: Ceuta to Melilla by Land

Calvin Sun — Wed, 23 Jul 2025 03:59:41 +0000

Crossing into Morocco – From Ceuta to Melilla

Leaving behind the fortified walls and Spanish signage of Ceuta, we set off on one of the more unusual overland journeys in the world: a drive through Morocco to get from one Spanish exclave and city-state to another: Melilla.

Mind you there exists NO helicopter, plane, bus, train, or ferry that takes you directly from Ceuta to Melilla. Usually from Ceuta to Melilla, people would take the ferry from Ceuta back to mainland Spain, take a bus from Algeciras on the Spanish mainland to Málaga, and then take a ferry, short flight, or a helicopter from Málaga for Melilla (as Melilla has an airport and Ceuta does not). Or, in the other way around, you’d ferry or fly from Melilla to mainland Spain, land in Málaga, take a bus from Málaga to Algeciras, and then take a ferry from Algeciras to Ceuta.

Our plan was to avoid all of that shenanigans: just drive from Ceuta to Melilla direct via Morocco without leaving the continent or crossing a body of water. It sounds simple enough. So I found Reda, a highly reputable local Moroccan fixer, who arranged for his driver Mostafa to meet us directly at our hotel in Ceuta. But as anyone who’s traveled in this part of the world might guess: there’s always going to be surprises; you’re just not sure what it would look like.

We were supposed to be picked up by 9am outside our hotel, but by 10:30am it became clear that Mostafa was getting stuck in a bureaucratic tangle of border paperwork, and our pickup would ultimately be delayed by about 4 hours.

So we made the most of it: A snack stop turned into lunch, and we squeezed in a quick 3-taxi round trip smash and grab mission to check out the Murallas Meriníes, a historic wall on the edge of town.

Eventually, Reda himself drove up an hour and a half from Tangiers on his day off to speed things along.

Once Mostafa finally got through into Ceuta and arrived at our hotel 10 minutes from the border, we loaded into the minibus just past 1pm. Given how familiar they were with the border formalities, we were still optimistic the rest of the journey would go smoothly.

Crossing the Border

Exiting Ceuta was easy enough: we waited a bit in traffic, eventually got stamped out of Spain in one building, drove a minute down the road, and queued up to get into Morocco at the next.

Getting our passports processed into Morocco took a bit longer; other than asking about our jobs before stamping us in, they berated the driver and Mostafa over not having “paperwork” for a group this large, but I’m sure this was an arbitrary way to slow things down because of the nature of bureaucracy at these kind of stops.

The Drive Across Morocco

The whole crossing was eventually wrapped up in about an hour, including bag checks and paperwork. We then thanked and said goodbye to Reda and hit the road, now driving east along Morocco’s northern coast, and an hour behind on the clock.

This stretch of Morocco is stunning in its contrasts. Fishing villages, bustling towns, hillside roads, and the Mediterranean seat outside our windows.

First stop: Tetouan, a whitewashed city known for its UNESCO-listed medina and strong Andalusian influence. We didn’t stay long, but even a quick drive-through gave off a sense of old-world calm.

Further down the road: Al Hoceima, where the Rif Mountains slope dramatically into the sea.

After 6 long hours of this on the road, we reached Nador, our final Moroccan stop. Dinner was quick and quiet; a small local place overlooking the mountains, plates of grilled meats, and sweet mint Moroccan tea.

The sun dipped behind the hills as families gathered in the nearby park; kids running around, adults sipping tea, and a few of them eyeing us with curious glances. What were we doing here?

Arrival at Melilla

After another 2 hours of driving later, we arrived at Melilla’s outer border as night descended. Leaving Morocco meant another round of bag scans and exit stamps.

After checking our passports for the entry stamps into Morocco earlier today, they made us scan our bags one by one at customs before returning to our vehicles.

We then drove across and officially stamp back into Spain where the time zones also changed to one hour ahead.

Then, just like that, we were back in Spain (though technically, we never really left the continent).

And yet, everything looked different from Morocco; Our 12 hour ordeal and 8 hour drive across Morocco felt like crossing dimensions; less a point A to B, and more a full-circle loop through history, culture, and the blurring borders of Europe and Africa.

- At time of posting in Melilla, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 58% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and dry

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Oh Ceu-ta Can You See?

Calvin Sun — Mon, 21 Jul 2025 16:25:07 +0000

Our road trip takes on a new tempo as we head south from Ávila toward the port city of Algeciras, marking the final leg of our journey across mainland Spain.

We began the morning in Ávila, saying goodbye to Kane, David, and Raubern as they continued on to Madrid. As we set off on our long drive south, I called FRS Ferry Services to move our original 5pm tickets to 8pm. We didn’t want to rush, especially since Donna’s flight had also been delayed five hours due to having to turn around, land, and go through repairs after a galley fire (everyone’s okay).

3 hours in, we stopped for breakfast and coffee at Zeri’s Café in Cáceres and grabbed a table outside to stretch our legs.

Roughly 2 hours later, about 5 hours into the drive, we rolled into Seville. Our group split up: one car visited the Seville Cathedral to see Christopher Columbus’ remains, another checked out the Setas de Sevilla, and the rest of us wandered the city center.

2 more hours south, we finally reached Algeciras, repeating the exact route I took 14 years ago. We returned our rentals at Enterprise’s office near the port, which had a secure key drop.

There wasn’t space in their designated lot, so we parked beside some Enterprise vans, took photos of the cars and plates, and emailed them just in case—so they wouldn’t think we’d run off with their vehicles.

Inside the terminal’s second floor waiting area, we met up with longtime monsooners Donna and Mihaela, who had just landed nearby; Donna at Malaga and Mihaela at Gilbraltar. Thanks to prior monsooning experience, Donna had already scanned our QR codes and picked up everyone’s ferry tickets from the FRS office, saving us time and keeping the group on track.

Algeciras to Ceuta

At 7:45pm, we boarded the FRS ferry to Ceuta, a short but symbolic crossing from continental Europe to the Spanish enclave perched on the edge of North Africa. I did this same trip 14 years ago, and now I was doing it again, this time with a full and bigger crew.

The ferry had a small café and a smoker-friendly viewing deck.

It’s a Yacht Week Sardinia reunion, this time headed for Africa.

Evening Walk Through Ceuta

We docked in Ceuta right at 9pm.

The port felt immediately different from where we boarded. Gone were the steely blue and white; now we were walking amidst sun-faded walls and palm trees at a slower pace.

About half the group decided to enjoy the African sea breeze with the 21 minute walk to our hotel, Oh Nice Ulises, while others sent luggage ahead by cab.

Since we had most of the hotel booked, I opted for the offer of the Presidential Suite for the same price:

Here’s the view from the balcony:

Ceuta was already starting to feel like exactly what we needed.

For dinner, we walked around the corner to a casual BBQ spot and, once again, accidentally over-ordered… times two.

Over dinner, we sat beneath Ceuta’s famous House of Dragons—rooftop sculptures guarding the city from above.

We turned in late, setting alarms for 9am and getting ready for a full day of exploring tomorrow.

Exploring Ceuta’s Rich History

With only a day to explore, we set out at 10am to cover as much ground as possible. Ceuta’s unique blend of cultures and fortifications makes it feel like a city pulled from multiple worlds.

We started close by at Casa de los Dragones: A grand building featuring dragon sculptures that seem to guard the façade—a striking example of early 20th-century architecture.

Next door was Iglesia De San Francisco: A small but charming church nestled within the bustling city streets.

I have questions here:

Then after breakfast, we hid from the sun at the Military Museum of the Legion, tucked inside a former fortress. Entry is free, and photography is allowed—just be respectful of the guards on duty.

The museum honors Spain’s famed Foreign Legion with exhibits ranging from uniforms and medals to battle maps and war relics, as well as a Nishant giving us a bonus primer of the history of Ceuta.

From the museum, we walked along the path that overlooks Ceuta’s gorgeous Spanish tourist-filled Ribera:

We then weaved into the Santuario de Santa María de África: A beautiful sanctuary dedicated to the patron saint of Ceuta, known for its rich history and serene atmosphere.

Nearby is the Cathedral of the Assumption of Ceuta: Built on the site of a former mosque, the cathedral’s architectural blend reflects the city’s multicultural history.

The Monumento a los caídos en la ocupación de África (aka a monument to those who participated in colonizing and occupying Africa) in the center of Plaza Africa:

We then walked straight up to the Murallas Reales, impressive 16th-century defensive walls that once protected the city from invasions. They look as formidable as ever.

They don’t make it obvious but you can freely walk inside the fort:

Climb up to the ramparts for the views of Ceuta:

We then climbed back down for an unexpectedly long 2-3 hour lunch at Restaurante Goichu, where once again, we ordered too much:

By then it was already almost 5pm, so the group decided to hike up the 2km, 40 minute walk up Monte Hacho, one of Ceuta’s highest points, offering panoramic views of both the city and the Strait of Gibraltar. It’s believed by some to be one of the Pillars of Hercules. You can only access it with pre-authorization by the Spain Department of Defense.

If you’re taking the hike like everyone else in my group did, see if you can add in: Faro Punta Almina and the easternmost point of Ceuta where the lighthouse there offer dramatic views of the Mediterranean Sea.

Fuerte Desnarigado: Unfortunately, access is also restricted without special permission, but its imposing presence is still worth admiring from afar.

Back at sea level, there’s Baños Árabes de Ceuta: These Arab Baths that open every evening at 6pm date back to the 12th century, offering a glimpse into the region’s Moorish past.

Well, it says it opens every 6pm, but when you get there they tell folks like Sandy to go to the tourist office by Murallas Reales to get the key, only for the tourist office there to tell her it’s still under renovations and not ready to be opened.

But you can still see it clearly from the street:

If time permits, you can take a ‘recorrido turistico’ taxi tour around Ceuta that includes a visit to Fuerte de Aranguren, lasting between 1 and 2 hours for a fixed fee of €38.40. This tour promises to cover the highlights of Ceuta with the convenience of a knowledgeable guide.

Monolith Llano Amarillo – Nishant hiked here himself after everyone else turned back. This was built to commemorate the July 17th, 1936 uprising across Spanish Morocco.

Calling it a day, all of us reconvened at the Ribera to enjoy the sunset and make friends with the folks around us.

Murallas Meriníes: The next morning visited the remants of the ancient Merinid walls that once protected Ceuta, an impressive feat of medieval engineering, on our way out towards the border to begin our long drive to Melilla.

As our time in Ceuta comes to a close, we reflect on the blend of cultures, history, and architectural beauty this small but fascinating city offers. Onward to the next leg of our journey: Melilla!

- At time of posting in Ceuta, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 78% | Wind Speed: 24km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and hot

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Gijón and Carry On to Ávila-ista Baby!

Calvin Sun — Sun, 20 Jul 2025 04:07:10 +0000

What I woke up to this morning 🥰

Leaving Gijón behind, we continued our journey south, weaving through the lush green hills of Asturias and the wide plains of León, before arriving in the storied, walled city of Ávila.

The Journey South

Our route today carried us past ancient churches, mountain towns, and sun-soaked plazas—each stop unfolding a different layer of Spain’s history and charm.

Iglesia de Santa María del Naranco (near Oviedo): A 1.5-hour drive from Gijón brought us to this 9th-century pre-Romanesque gem perched on Mount Naranco. Originally built as a royal palace for King Ramiro I, the church’s arches and stone carvings still hint at its regal origins.

Church of San Miguel de Lillo: Just a 1-minute drive farther uphill from Naranco, this 9th-century church shares similar stonework and atmosphere—a quiet sibling to the more prominent Santa María.

Oviedo: And only 15 minutes from Mount Naranco, we made a quick stop in Asturias’ capital. Wandering through the Old Town, we admired the Gothic Cathedral of San Salvador and its UNESCO-designated Holy Chamber (Cámara Santa). Entry was €8.

The narrow pedestrian streets were filled with cider bars and cafés, but one spot stood out: a small café next to the cathedral served a truffle potato tortilla so good we ordered the last slices before they sold out.

León: After a 1 hour and 40 minute drive south, we arrived in León. Its imposing Cathedral of León is among the finest Gothic examples in the country, with towering spires and stained glass that flood the interior with light. Entry is €6, or €5 if you’re part of a group of five or more.

Salamanca: At the suggestion of Sofía (who went to school here), we made a brief 2-hour detour to this university town. The University of Salamanca is the fourth-oldest in the world still in operation, and its presence gives the city a youthful, intellectual energy.

If you stop by the university façade or cathedral, try spotting the frog carved into the stone—a local tradition and symbol of Salamanca.

Found it!

We closed the day with dinner at Sofía’s old college haunt, Mesón de Cervantes, overlooking the crowds of Plaza Mayor—a perfect mix of nostalgia and food coma.

Arrival in Ávila

Another 1.5 hours on the road brought us to Ávila, our stop for the night. Known for its intact medieval walls, Ávila feels like a city suspended in time.

We checked into our stay within the old town walls — cobblestone streets underfoot, history in every corner.

That night, some of us wandered along the illuminated ramparts, marveling at the 82 semicircular towers and 9 gates glowing under golden floodlights. It’s hard not to be moved by how well-preserved this city is, and how quiet the streets feel after dark.

With Ávila as our new base, the day wasn’t quite over yet. We arrived ready to settle in, only to find ourselves locked out. Our Airbnb host hadn’t preemptively sent any check-in instructions, and there were no keys in sight. Thankfully, they responded quickly through Booking.com when I messaged and directed us to download the HoomVip app, which required us to register our passports before the door would unlock remotely.

We climbed three flights of stairs to find our apartments. One key box opened. The other? Still no response on what the code was. Luckily, the first apartment was large enough to squeeze in all ten of us with some strategic rearranging and a few extra mattresses we found tucked away in a closet.

Just when we thought we were in the clear even with one apartment down, the host suddenly provided us with the code for the other apartment’s key box. Completely empty. They then asked us remotely via chat to check the cabinets downstairs for a spare key. Nothing. Finally, they sent someone over with a backup key, who arrived about ten minutes late, but just in time for things to fall back into place.

As the group stayed up to drink and unwind, my body asked for something else entirely: sleep. I turned in early to rest and recover, knowing there’s more road ahead. Already wondering what tomorrow will bring.

- At time of posting in Ávila, it was 16 °C - Humidity: 67% | Wind Speed: 10km/hr | Cloud Cover: pleasant and chilly

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Gijón With the Wind

Calvin Sun — Sat, 19 Jul 2025 07:10:51 +0000

How’s my ankle holding up? I can be pretty decent at wound care if I say so myself.

This is Day 0 — right after a 1500-lb bull stepped on it:

Day 4:

We arrived in Gijón after a full day of driving and checked into our spots in the Las Arenas area, one Airbnb, one hotel, just across from Playa de San Lorenzo.

This is the kind of calm, relaxed place that lets you exhale a bit deeper. Especially knowing someone here, and not knowing, hearing or seeing nearly any English speaking tourists nearby:

Local Asturian Sofía Lanza and I first met when she volunteered as an interpreter at the finish line of the 2023 NYC Marathon.

Somehow, she now lives just a few doors down from where we ended up staying.

Things like that still surprise me—even when they shouldn’t.

After sleeping in a bit, we wandered out for coffee at Whatever Coffee & Bocados.

Eventually, the group trickled in. Yuhan made fast friends with the barista Stephanie possibly thanks to her One Piece shirt and seahorse cappuccino above. From there, we began exploring Gijón’s old soul stitched through its buildings and coastlines.

We began with Palacio de Revillagigedo, a 15th-century baroque palace, that watches over the harbor:

We then climbed up Parque Santa Catalina, a hillside with views that widen as you rise.

At the top: the kind of stillness that makes you forget time for a moment.

Parroquia San Pedro: a 15th-century church built atop Roman bath ruins.

Snuck in just before closing:

The Termas Romanas de Campo Valdés are small, free, and compelling. Not much signage in English, but the ruins speaks for itself.

We then wandered by the Culture Center Old Institute Jovellanos . . .

. . . and into the Ciudadela de Celestino Solar, where 19th-century workers’ housing still echoes stories. Free entry, no translations needed.

Passed the Basílica-Santuario del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús on the way to…

…an art deco break at the century-old Café Dindurra.

Back in Plaza Mayor, a few of us tried local cider for the first time while waiting for Sofía to join us.

After a few warm plesantries, she showed us a few areas of Gijón and then Escaleras del Rock: A quiet little tribute to rock music, painted on a public staircase.

She then had us relax near the harbor where we sipped cider facing the sea, just locals do this without ceremony:

Over cider we sketched out the rest of our route, from here to Ávila, then down to Algeciras, before splitting off for solo time.

Sofía and I caught up since our time at the marathon re-walking back up the Santa Catalina park talking about the time that had passed between us, the loss of our parents, our prior failed relationships, and the idea of future and destiny . . .

. . . before regrouping again for dinner at Restaurante Sidreria Tropical for their local Asturian cheese croquettes, vela fillets, and codfish pâté.

As we wrap up our time in Gijón, something about the quiet sincerity of this city sticks. It’s not just the history or the views, but how it made room for us, just as we were.

- At time of posting in Gijón, it was 18 °C - Humidity: 82% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: a slight drizzle and melancholy

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Bilba-oh No! Brake-ing Bad in Basque Country

Calvin Sun — Fri, 18 Jul 2025 03:46:26 +0000

With San Sebastián behind us, this morning Nishant, Kenny, David and myself booked a cab to pick up two rental cars from Enterprise, tucked beneath a mall complex just south of the old town. Moments after signing the paperwork, it seemed Nishant’s choice of wide-bodied vehicles paid off: our accident insurance kicked in almost immediately.

Even the rental agent shrugged with a half-smile: “Yeah, that happens all the time when people drive out. Your friend just got the full insurance though, so don’t worry about it!”

Meanwhile, David had already returned to our hotel in San Sebastián to gather the rest of our gear. Once packed, we hit the road heading west toward Zumaia, pausing for a quick coffee and to iron out our caravan rhythm.

Zumaia is home to a stunning beach featured in Season 7 of Game of Thrones, its dramatic cliffs a fitting backdrop for dragons and dynasties.

But a hiccup: due to a miscommunication and different assumptions, David, Sandy, Yuhan, Kane, and Varun in one car pulled away without notifying the rest of us, leaving the group unintentionally split by about 30 minutes. While their car stopped for lunch at a pinxto spot, ours headed directly to Bilbao and straight to our first official stop: the iconic Guggenheim Museum.

Frank Gehry’s architectural marvel remains every bit as jaw-dropping as it was when it first opened—its fluid, metallic curves mirroring the nearby river and the city’s industrial past.

This modernist masterpiece has been described as a “signal moment in the architectural culture,” and a rare point of agreement between critics, academics, and the public alike.

Even though we arrived well past our scheduled entry time on our prepaid tickets, our honest excuse “we got into a car accident” was apparently compelling enough to get our tickets re-scanned for new entry. We spent the next hour soaking in the rotating exhibits of contemporary and modern art.

While David’s car toured the museum as we were leaving, the rest of us — Nishant, Raubern, Ainsley, Kenny, and myself — grabbed a quick Asian fusion lunch just across the street before continuing two more hours west toward the majestic Picos de Europa.

Nestled among limestone cliffs, deep gorges, and misty valleys, we braved the drizzle and fog to stretch our legs and take in the views from Mirador del Pozo de la Oración.

What we expected:

What we got instead:

Understandably, the other car missed a turn while following us and ultimately decided to skip the fogged-in lookout and head straight to Gijón instead of making a U-turn. But eventually, we all reconvened just in time for dinner at Sancho La Merced, a cozy recommendation from my friend Sofia, who, as fate would have it, lives here and plans to show us around after work tomorrow.

- At time of posting in Bilbao, it was 20 °C - Humidity: 86% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: so hot it melted my chocolate from last night

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San Sebastincredible

Calvin Sun — Wed, 16 Jul 2025 13:43:18 +0000

Leaving behind the festivities of Pamplona, we boarded the 11am Alta direct bus bound for San Sebastián. Our journey was quick, and within 2 hours from Pamplona, we found ourselves walking through the coastal paradise of the Basque Country.

Checking in at Legazpi Doce Rooms & Suites, we dropped off our bags and hit the streets to make the most of our time here in this city of natural beauty and architectural grandeur, all walkable from our lodging . . .

Victoria Eugenia Antzokia – Our closest stop, this elegant theater by the river stands as one of the city’s most iconic cultural landmarks. Its ornate façade hints at the performances it has hosted over the years.

Donostia-San Sebastián City Hall – Located by the sea, this former casino is a testament to the city’s aristocratic past. Its position near Alderdi Eder Gardens makes for a picturesque stroll.

Kursaal – A modern architectural marvel by Rafael Moneo, this glass cube structure serves as both a convention center and concert hall. Its striking contrast to the city’s classical architecture is hard to miss.

Constitución Plaza — The center of old town and where both bullfighting and public executions took place. The numbers above each one of the balcony windows facing the square mark the bullring boxes from which anyone could watch the bullfight.

San Vicente Church – The oldest church in San Sebastián, with its Gothic architecture and serene, dark interior, offers a quiet respite from the bustling city.

San Telmo Museum – A must-see if you’re into Basque cultural artifacts and art.

Koruko Andre Mariaren Basilika (Basilica of Saint Mary of the Chorus) – This ornate Baroque church with its elaborate façade stands proudly in the heart of the old town.

The basilica faces down Calle Mayor towards the cathedral:

Motako Gaztelua – The fortress atop Monte Urgull remains a sight that might be worth the 20 minute hike uphill.

Even without entering, the walk around Monte Urgull beginning from the Aquarium offers panoramic views of the city and sea.

Hiking back down behind the city is also photogenic:

Cathedral of the Good Shepherd of San Sebastián – This neo-Gothic structure stands as the largest church in San Sebastián. Its towering spires and intricate details are awe-inspiring.

Beach of La Concha – Possibly San Sebastián’s most famous beach, its crescent shape and golden sands are framed by the blue of the Cantabrian Sea. A walk along the Paseo de La Concha is essential.

Ondarreta Beach – Just west of La Concha, this quieter beach (9 o’clock position in the photo below) offers a more laid-back experience with stunning views of Santa Clara Island.

After our 2 hour walking tour, we kicked back for a few drinks outdoors . . .

. . . before our . . .

Culinary Pilgrimage

No visit to San Sebastián would be complete without indulging in its legendary food scene. Over the next few days, we’ll be dining at some of the city’s most renowned establishments:

Sirimiri Gastroleku, known for its duck:

Ganbara, known for its mushroom and egg yolk pinxto:

Borda Berri

Gandarias, known for its T-bone pinxto, which was so small we didn’t even get a photo of it

La Cuchara de San Telmo, known for its style of foie gras pinxto:

Txuleta, known for its steak pintxo:

La Viña, known for having invented the original Basque Cheesecake in 1988 and regarded still as the best OG Basque Cheesecake in the world.

Bar Nestor, known for its chop and Spanish tortilla:

Amelia by Paulo Airaudo, known for its seafood and plenty of Michelin stars:

And yet, although they’re known for their seafood, the Wagyu steak with Australian truffle takes the cake:

And this is exactly how I’d like to end a meal:

After a whirlwind exploration of San Sebastián’s culinary treasures, we watch Yuhan quickly recovering from her role as the enabler in their first night out and we prepare for the next leg of our journey to Bilbao.

I know exactly what would cure Yuhan’s hangover:

- At time of posting in San Sebastián, it was 19 °C - Humidity: 92% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: a bit of rain, a bit of sun, and lots of food

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How to Be Pamp-Blown-Away in One Day — and Survive a Bull Run

Calvin Sun — Mon, 14 Jul 2025 10:47:10 +0000

We arrived just in time for the final stretch of the San Fermin Festival aka the Running of the Bulls, and we’re therefore diving headfirst into the vibrant chaos of Pamplona during this festival —

To get here, I redeemed 90k miles for Business Class on LOT Airlines beginning at JFK airport to board its nightly flight out to Warsaw on their wet-leased Euroatlantic Airways 777-200ER planes. This ticket also gets you access in the last remaining days of the T7 lounge before JFK’s major renovation.

The wet least allows a LOT business class passenger to enjoy the 1-2-1 configuration on Euroatlantic’s fleet (aka the old Alitalia planes) instead of LOT’s typical 2-2-2 configuration.

I was able to quickly sleep after take off for about 4-5 hours before asking for a later start to their meal service. They obliged!

After 5 hours at Warsaw’s Chopin airport, I boarded a 2 hour Brussels Airlines flight to Brussels with nobody sitting with me.

The next day I continued onwards on a flight to Barcelona, meeting up with Raubern there where we coffee’d and ate our way through the town. David, Yuhan, Sandy, and Varun all congregated with me as I finally learned from my mistakes and figured out how to eat at La Xampanyet without a local helping me this time:

14 years ago on my first official group monsoon, someone said here “why is this good SO GOOD?” and “this was the best meal of my life” (left).

And 14 years later (right), those statements still reverberate across the very same walls:

Later that night, I got to catch up with Gabriela again on her new terrace in the Sagrada Familia district. She’s a blast from the past from 11 years ago; we last saw each other in Barcelona 9 years ago pre-pandemic!.

Have we aged?

The next morning, taking a bus up from Barcelona to Pamplona, Raubern and I rendezvous’ed with Kane, Ainsley, Nishant, and Kenny at our apartment rental ANAMAR (which we booked 5 months in advance) just in time to catch the festival’s closing ceremony and the last run of the bulls.

We arrive in Pamplona to find the city still buzzing with festivities. The streets are stained with the remnants of sangria and packed with revelers decked out in white and red. With only two days to explore, we waste no time donning our white and red, buying handkerchiefs and sashes at the corner and hustlers all over the town before joining the celebration.

Our afternoon begins with a walk through the city’s bustling plazas before heading towards the Plaza del Castillo and having a lunch at famed Café Iruña, known for being one of Hemingway’s favorite haunts, and it’s easy to see why; its charming decor and rich history make it a must-visit.

If you didn’t know by now, Pamplona is is where Hemingway came up with the premise for The Sun Also Rises; by the corner you can find a statue of him!

Fun fact, Café Iruña is also where electric light was first used in Pamplona.

Outside the café, Plaza del Castillo is known as Pamplona’s “living room.” During the festival, the square becomes alive with music and performances.

After lunch we began our walking tour, beginning at where the running of the bulls start along the Calle de Santo Domingo.

Bulls are kept here:

And the runners start here:

Two rockets are fired; one for the first bull out, and the second for the last bull to leave the pen. If you start here, then your goal is to run up the hill along Calle de Santo Domingo, past City Hall on your left . . .

. . . to arrive into Plaza Consistorial, where you turn around Dead Man’s Curve or Hamburger Wall (this is the switchback style 90º angle where the bulls sometimes collide into the wall as they turn. This is where Raubern, Nishant, Kenny, and I started.

After the turn, you run down the longest street along Calle de la Estafeta:

. . . finally arriving after a 4-5 minute dash into the 1920s-built bullfighting ring Plaza de Toros:

From the bull ring and sticking along the east side and walking towards the Arga River, we stopped at the old City Walls and Fortín de San Bartolomé. Its museum offers a glimpse into the evolution of Pamplona’s fortifications over the centuries.

Hugging the river and walking north in Viejo de la Calle Vergel Park, we passed by the Catedral de Santa María la Real y Museo Diocesano.

Note its Neoclassical façade designed by Ventura Rodríguez:

We then turned once reaching the outdoor festivities amongst the gardens at Rincón del Caballo Blanco: a medieval bar perched on the city’s walls near the cathedral. Its terrace offers sweeping views of the river and the city below.

We then sauntered by the San Saturnino church from the 13th-century featuring 2 towers, one with an iconic rooster-shaped weather vane.

Museo de Navarra is just north of San Santurino: Located within a 16th-century hospital, this museum boasts a collection of Roman artifacts, Gothic and Renaissance art and a Goya portrait. It’s a deep dive into the artistic evolution of the region.

On the southwest part of Pamplona and a 20 minute walk away, we came upon Ciudadela (Citadel). Built in a pentagonal shape under King Philip II’s rule, this Renaissance fortification is well-preserved. Surrounded by a sprawling park, the citadel is closed during the festival for the nightly fireworks display.

It then began to thunderstorm as we walked the perimeter of the citadel (which wearing white may not be the most comfortable choice in that scenario) towards Parque de la Taconera, the city’s oldest park that offers a tranquil respite from the city’s clamor.

Its French-style gardens, mini-zoo, and cozy café would have provided the perfect setting for an afternoon break if it weren’t for a rainstorm.

We then returned back into old town passing by Saint Nicholas Church and its gothic facade and bell tower:

Running of the Bulls

…or, as I now compare it, Running for Office. I woke up this morning at 6:40am in Pamplona thinking I’d watch a 700-year-old tradition from the safety of a balcony. I’d been telling everyone I wasn’t planning to run. Definitely not with a missing kidney, or exactly one year post-cancer. Not when I feel like I have nothing else to prove.

But even Mel was surprised: “You’re not? What? Isn’t that the whole point?” Having Nishant also say the same thing: “I signed up for this trip just to do it!” and Raubern and Kenny not pushing back… well…the pressure was on.

Side note: this is Nishant’s, Raubern’s and my first time wearing all white together since Sardinia!

An hour later, there I was, sprinting down Calle Estafeta like something possessed had nudged me off the edge of reason and straight into the chaos.

There are actual rules for first-timers:

Don’t start near Dead Man’s Corner.
Don’t veer left down Calle Estafeta; that’s where the bulls naturally lean after the turn.
If you fall, stay down. Fetal position. Don’t get up.

And I broke every one of them.

Not out of defiance, but adrenaline; that old trickster that hijacks your body and rewrites your story. I hadn’t realized I was already on Dead Man’s Corner when I started running. As I sprinted through the narrowing cobblestone path, I leaned on the backs of those in front of me who seemed to slow, not fully aware they also saw the bulls behind us. The moment they tripped and fell in front of me, momentum also took me down. Elbow, knees, ankle, knuckles, and toes (one by one as if they were a song lyric). One foot away from seeing horns tearing through flesh. But somehow, I got back up. And speed walk-limped my way to the ring.

It’s funny—I didn’t expect there to be footage. I didn’t want it. That felt like tempting fate. But Sandy and Yuhan caught the whole thing from their balconies. I watch the clip and still can’t quite believe it happened.

Once in the ring, you can stay behind on the sand for them to let out one bull at a time while you try to still dodge them, if your adrenaline hasn’t given up on you yet. This is me telling Kenny mid-pose (notice the facial expressions of everyone behind me as I’m saying this):

I stuck around for a few more minutes enjoying the festivities, but when they let out a second bull I felt that with my sprained ankle I was already pushing my luck. I quickly hopped over a barricade where staff then immediately make you exit the arena entirely.

I then limped to the nearby Coffing Coffee House to check how badly I was wounded: 4th and 5th digit right knuckles, ulnar-lateral left hand, bilateral knee abrasions, and 2 left ankle contusion/abrasions from being trampled on by a 700kg / 1543 lbs. bull they always save as the heaviest for the last day of the festival every year. A fair karmic balancing for a lesson this old.

The rest of the monsooners joined me afterwards to decompress the thrill from our bodies as we felt the comedown. Sandy and Yuhan even picked up a fellow American, Brandon, from their balcony to join us!

Maybe I’m more surprised by how everyone else expected me to do it. How even my wife assumed I would. How sometimes the expectations of others reveal parts of yourself you didn’t know you were still negotiating with. I’m not sure if it was courage, foolishness, or something in between, but I kinda get it why people do this every year. There’s something ancient, irrational, and deeply human about choosing to run into something you could just as easily watch.

Final day of San Fermín. First monsoon since the campaign. Still down one kidney. Still standing.

Last Night of the Festival

By 2:15pm, Mimi made a quick detour from her own private trip through San Sebastián to Pamplona to join us for the closing ceremonies of the festival. We gave her another quick tour of the town after she settled in on our couch, and introduced her to both new and old monsooner friends.

As night fell, we went for dinner at La Huerta de Chicha — an accidental find that luckily is the only really good place that had enough seating for a large group during the festival — and then joined the crowds for the closing ceremony beginning at 11:00pm at La Vuelta del Castillo. There, an annual fireworks competition light up the sky in a dazzling 15 minute display at 11:00pm every night.

There’s a bittersweetness to the air as revelers both celebrate and mourn the end of another San Fermin.

After the fireworks, we walked over another 15 minutes to the official closing ceremony in Plaza Consistorial right in front of our lodgings. At 11:50pm the mayor steps out to thank everyone for attending, tells all of us to come back next year, and then everyone else takes off their red bandanas while singing to “Pobre de Mi” as fireworks goes off in the background.

One final group photo in our apartment!

The following morning, we said “see you soon” to Mimi (she’s joining us next week again for Tomorrowland), packed our bags and made our way out of Pamplona, leaving behind its echoes of music, celebration, and centuries of history.

- At time of posting in Pamplona, it was 31 °C - Humidity: 80% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and hot

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Meet the Monsooners of Tomorrowland 2025!

Calvin Sun — Fri, 02 May 2025 13:13:30 +0000

This July 38 of us are heading back to Spain and Tomorrowland, both for the 3rd time with at least 51 others and about half of them returning for another monsoon:

Mihaela “Compass”: 19 time monsooner (across 30+ countries!) to Libya, Syria, Trans-Mongolian (Mongolia to China), Tibet, Scotland, the Balkans, the Persian Gulf, Luxembourg, Slovenia, Armenia, Egypt, USA, Cyprus, Sardinia, Saudi Arabia, Iraq & Jordan, Vancouver, the Horn of Africa, and The French Polynesia
Donna “Spyglass” Vo: 9 time monsooner and having visited 14+ countries with me, returning from South Korea, Svalbard, Sardinia, Isle of Man & Northern Ireland, Australia & New Zealand, Prague & Budapest, Japan, Cyprus, and The French Polynesia
Sujay “Chief Siesta Officer” Sheth: 7 time monsooner returning from Tomorrowland 2024, The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse, The Greek Epic, South Korea, Svalbard, Vancouver and Sardinia
Raubern “Director of the Moving Image” Totanes: Our videographer and 5 time monsooner returning from South Korea, Sardinia, Egypt, USA, and Budapest
Nishant “Wolf Of Wall Street” Anandan: 5 time monsooner to Syria, Wales, Afghanistan, Armenia, and Sardinia
Yuhan “Chief Barista Officer” Lee: 4 time monsooner returning from Easter Island, Tomorrowland, The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse and The Greek Epic
Leslie “The Lamb Whisperer” Limo: 4 time monsooner returning from Le Tren Bleu, The Greek Epic and Wales
Ainsley “Jasmine Flower” Martin, a 4 time monsooner returning from The Dolomites, The Canary Islands, South Korea and The Faroe Islands
Amelia “Of Love of Kayaks”, a 3 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic, Svalbard and French Polynesia
Taejin “Omakase” Kim: 3 time monsooner returning from Okemo, Hokkaido, The Greek Epic
Daniela “You Had Me At Hello” Zarzer: 3 time monsooner returning from Pakistan, Prague, and Central Europe!
Rashidah “Got The Sauce” Namutebi: 2 time monsooner returning from Le Tren Bleu and Mali
Victor “Chief Rally Officer” Tran: 2 time monsooner returning from Stratton, VT and The Greek Epic
Samantha “3D Glasses” Ali: returning from Le Tren Bleu
Nisha “I Got Some Snacks” Jani: returning from Tomorrowland 2024
Melissa “Employee Discount” Rios: returning from Isle-land of Man
Joe “Steady As He Goes” Duvall: returning from Isle-land of Man
Mimi “Chief Macarena Officer” Chen: returning from The Greek Epic
Bill “Rave Cave Bandit” Zhang: returning from Iceland
Kenny “Straight Outta Arkansas” Phu: returning from The Dolomites
Sandy “Don’t Forget To Smell the Fried Chickens” Rie: returning from the Gulf of Guinea
David Yi: returning from Okemo

Introducing our newest generation of monsooners:

Calvin "Castles in the Sky" Sun - Expedition Leader | Emergency Physician | NYC

Nishant "The Wolf of Wall Street" Anandan - Returning Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), May '22 (Wales), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica), Jun. '19 (Afghanistan), Nov. '18 (Armenia) | London, UK | Associate | RBC Capital Markets

Donna "Spyglass" V. – Senior Monsooner: Mar. '23 (South Korea), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia), Sept. '21 (The Tyrrhenian Sea), June '21 (Cyprus), May '19 (Isle of Man & Northern Ireland), Jan '19 (Prague & Budapest), Aug. '18 (Japan), Winter ’18 (Australia & NZ) | Boston, MA | Real Estate & Construction | Wentworth Institute of Technology

Rashidah "Got the Sauce" Namutebi - Return Monsooner: July '24 (Le Tren Bleu), Feb. '22 (Mali) | Austin

Mimi "Macarena" Chen - Return Monsooner: July '23 (Greek Island Hopping) | Pharmacist | NYC

Joe “Steady As He Goes” D. - Return Monsooner: May '19 (Isle-land of Man) | iOS Developer, Adobe | Santa Clara, CA

Kenny “Straight Outta Arkansas” Phu - Return Monsooner: July '24 (The Dolomites) | Software Engineer, Walmart | Arkansas

Sosmita "Diabolical" Islam - Medical Scribe | NYC

Tien & Josh - Chicago

Priscilla L. - NYC

Victor “Chief Rally Officer” Tran - Return Monsooner: July '23 (Greek Island Hopping) | Google | Chicago, IL

Kashif "Wandering Physician" Ramzan - Physician | NYC

Cassidy F. - NJ

Jonathan - Chicago, IL

Amanda "T as in Tea" Thai - Product Specialist | NYC

Kevin Z. - Emergency Physician | NYC

Kane C. - NYC

Mihaela "Compass" K. - Lieutenant, Senior Monsooner: Apr. '24 (Libya), Sept. '23 (Syria), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Oct. '21 (Saudi Arabia), Sept.'21 (Sardinia/Corsica), Jun '21 (Cyprus), Aug. '20 (USA), Dec. '19 (Egypt), Nov. '18 (Armenia), June '18 (The Persian Gulf), Oct. '17 (Slovenia), Aug. '17 (The Balkans), May '17 (Luxembourg), Mar. '17 (Scotland), Jan. '17 (Mongolia & Tibet), May '23 (Horn of Africa) | NYC | Cytologist, Mt. Sinai

Ingrid M. - Seattle, WA

Richard Y.

Yelena P. - NYC

William T.

Varun M. - Texas

Daniela “You Had Me At Hello” Zarzer - Returning Monsooner: Mar. '19 (Pakistan), Jan. '19 (Prague), Mar. '18 (Central Europe) | Vienna, Austria

David Yi - Returning Monsooner: Dec. '24 (Okemo)

Nisha "I Brought Some Snacks" Jani - Lieutenant Monsooner: Tomorrowland 2024 | Anesthesist | Florida

Leslie “Call HR” Limo - Return Monsooner: Jul. '24 (Le Tren Bleu), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), May '22 (Wales) | HR | Queens, NY

Raubern “Director of the Moving Image" Totanes - Videographer, Returning Monsooner: Mar. '23 (South Korea), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica), Aug. '20 (USA), Dec. '19 (Egypt), Mar. '18 (Sweden & Budapest) | NYC

Amelia "Shut Up and Dance" Shillingford - Returning Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia) | Neuropsychiatrist | VT

Taejin “Spicy Ramen” Kim - Return Monsooner: Dec. '24 (Vermont), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | ATL

Samantha "3D Glasses" Ali - Return Monsooner: July '24 (Le Tren Bleu) | Nurse Assistant | Florida

Melissa “Employee Discount” Rios - Return Monsooner: May '19 (Isle-land of Man) | Associate Product Manager, Adobe | Santa Clara, CA

Bill "Marine One" Zhang - Return Monsooner: Oct. '13 (Iceland) | Physician | NYC

Denise | Philadephia, PA

William M. - NYC

Patricia - Chicago, IL

Amelia "Straight Outta Arkansas" Ramzan - Physician | NYC

Michelle Y. - Pre-MDPhD | NYC

Cassandra - Chicago, IL

Eunice Y. - Lawyer | Texas

Yesi I.

Ainsley "Jasmine Flower" Martin - Return Monsooner (Spain only): Jul. '24 (The Dolomites), Nov. '23 (Canary Islands), Mar. '23 (South Korea), Aug. '22 (Faroe Islands) | Speech-Language Pathologist | Syracuse, NY

Sandy Rie - Returning Monsooner: The Gulf of Guinea (Jan '24) | Singapore

Kristina K.

Brenda W.

Neil S. - NYC

Matt A.

Sujay "Chief Siesta Officer" Sheth - Return Monsooner: Jul. 24 (Tomorrowland), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '23 (South Korea & Jeju), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Feb. '22 (Whistler), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica) | Radiologist | Chicago

Sofia "The Interpreter" Lanza - Gijón, Spain

YuHan "BesFren" Lee - Return Monsooner: Nov. '24 (Easter Island), Jul. '24 (Tomorrowland), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | SF

And where we’re actually monsooning through this coming July 2025:

Pamplona/Running of the Bulls, Spain

Bilbao, Spain

Oveido, Spain

Ávila, Spain

Ceuta, Spain (within Morocco)

Donostia-San Sebastian, Spain

Picos de Europa, Spain

Gijón, Spain

Melilla, Spain (within Morocco)

Tomorrowland

Want to join us? More details about the trip can be found here: JULY 2025

The post Meet the Monsooners of Tomorrowland 2025! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

The Tagline I’d Be Proud Of

Calvin Sun — Mon, 13 Jan 2025 19:41:28 +0000

Six years ago, during our entire week without a signal, data, or internet and wandering through the otherworldly landscapes of Socotra Island, Yemen, my friend and co-guide at the time, Pier Doyon, asked me a question that caught me off guard: “What would your title be if you visited every country in the world?”

I initially laughed this off, not ever having thought about it. After all, traveling to every country wasn’t ever a goal I had consciously set—just a curious byproduct of an insatiable desire to explore. But then Pier couldn’t resist teasing. He tossed out a list of tongue-in-cheek ideas:

“First Person to Visit Every Country in the World While in Medical School”
“First Person to Visit Every Country in the World with Over $300,000 in Student Loan Debt”
“First Person to Visit Every Country in the World Without a Driver’s License”

My favorite, though, was his last one: “First Person to Visit Every Country in the World and Not Give a Crap.”

That one stayed with me for years. By the time I got down to the single digits of new countries left for me to visit, it became my default response whenever someone asked how I wanted this journey defined. “First Person to Visit Every Country in the World and Not Give a Crap” — cheeky, irreverent, and fitting.

But this trip reminded me how, sometimes, the most profound ideas come out of nowhere.

“Calvin,” someone said on this particular trip, “how about the ‘first person to take groups of strangers to every country in the world’?”

There it was. That’s the one.

If I were foolhardy enough to care about Guinness Book of World Records headlines or lofty titles, this would be it. Because I never traveled for the sake of ticking off a list, proving a point, or surviving medical school (though, let’s face it, travel did help me survive med school). I traveled for the people — the strangers who became friends, and the friends who became family.

It wasn’t about the countries; it was about the connections.

The tagline I’d be proud of?

“The First Person to Take Groups of Strangers to Every Country in the World.”

That feels right. That feels like me.

The post The Tagline I’d Be Proud Of appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Bujum-bura My Head in the Sand

Calvin Sun — Sun, 12 Jan 2025 15:41:51 +0000

It’s nice to wake up in front of our airport gate, again.

For the 3rd time and second to last time back in Addis Ababa as our home base for our Central Africa trip, it was another 2 hour and 45 minute flight from Addis Ababa and this time to Burundi, our Central African odyssey that ends here at the capital of Bujumbura.

Where USA passport holders had lost the ability for a visa on arrival back in Bangui in the Central African Republic, we gained one recently in Burundi at Bujumbura airport. You can apply ahead online to receive a QR code voucher to speed things along, or simply apply on the spot at one of the visa counters to your left when you arrive.

Once they take about 15-20 minutes at the first counter to fill out an application for you, they move your passport to their left along an assembly line of counters.

Your passport keeps going down the line 3 stations, where the first is to apply, the second is to pay in cash ($40 for a transit visit for stays fewer than 3 days, $90 for a 1 month visa), and the third is for an officer in uniform to stick the visa in your passport.

You then bring all of that to the counter to stamp in and have them take a photo of you.

And then you’re in baggage claims!

Waiting for the others to finish their visas, we walked around the corner to exit customs.

There we met our guide Dativa, in charge of her own tour company Ikaze Venture, who took us to our 2 cars to begin our tour.

Burundi is a land-locked nation and one of the ten least developed countries in the world with the lowest per capita GDP of any nation in the world. Its experience with colonialism began with Germany and Belgium in the early 20th century when Burundi and Rwanda was a single European colony known as Ruanda-Urundi.

Burundi then gained independence from Belgium in 1962, after which civil wars between the Hutu and Tutsi populations (as more notably exemplified by what happened in Rwanda), and a series of political assassinations followed. It was not until 2005 when a cease-fire was finally enacted and successive (and some controversial) elected presidents have since tried to rebuild the country.

After 10 minutes of driving from the airport, we were stopped briefly for the President as his militarized motorcade to pass by on their way to the airport. Lots of parallels to our foray with the president on our way to the airport exactly one year ago in the Equatorial Guinea!

We began our city tour driving by the city’s Triangle of Love, a gated park inaccessible to locals featuring 2 of Burundi’s leaders: their first democratically elected president Melchiior Ndadaye who was assassinated after 3 months in power, and their beloved Prince Louis Rwagasore who was Prime Minister for only 2 weeks before he too, was assassinated at the age of 28.

We then took a road trip south along the Lake Tanganyika, the world’s longest freshwater lake and the second deepest and largest by volume after Lake Baikal.

You can see that climate change is already causing water levels to take over the banks of the city.

As we drove further out from the city, we witnessed local life that live and die along the lake.

The largest structure happens to be a church, naturally.

Our little road trip finished at the southern town of Mugere, home to the Livingstone–Stanley Monument, built at the site where “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” presumedly took place.

In reality, their meeting where those words were uttered took place 15 days earlier in Ujiji in Tanzania. It was then 2 weeks later where the two of them ventured here to this very location in current-day Burundi where they spent 3 days here resting at a hut provided by Chief Mukamba. Both of them went on to describe this spot as being one of their most hospitable experiences in all of Africa.

There’s also a rock that ascribes the significance of their 3 days here from November 25-27, 1871.

Colonialism just got served.

After spending half an hour here learning about its significance in history from a local French-speaking curator (with our guides translating), we returned to our cars and drove back north towards Bujumbura for our next stop at the Mausolée du Prince Louis Rwagasore (Prince Louis Rwagasore Mausoleum), a mausoleum built in memory of Burundi’s universally revered national hero and where Burundian Independence Day is celebrated annually every July 1st.

The 3 things that matter to Burundian: Imana Umwami Uburundi (God, The King, Burundi)

Our next stop, the nearby Unity Monument, built to symbolize the peace, reconciliation and solidarity among Burundi’s diverse communities after years of conflict.

From here we returned to the city center where we checked into our hotels (highly recommend the spacious, artsy studio rooms at Burundi Palace Hotel) . . .

. . . and reunited for a 6:30pm dinner at Belvedere with its elevated views overlooking Bujumbura.

Eat some brochettes that’s affectionately referred to as “je m’en fout” (means “I don’t care”), or have the local Mukeke and Sangala fish from Lake Tanganyika as you watch the rain set upon the city behind you.

Dodging a rainy downpour, I with the two sisters, Janet and Sandra, enjoyed our last dinner together of the trip with these views.

The next morning I woke up for a rooftop breakfast with Letti at 8am at the hotel, who had skipped dinner last night as she was recovering from her upper respiratory illness she had experienced during the trip.

Gooooood morning Bujumbura!

Letti and I then loaded our bags for an 8:30am pickup for the divine treat of local Burundi coffee at Bujacafe, located right next to the German consulate:

We then had a scheduled ferry adventure in Rusizi National Park, featuring hippos and crocodiles sunning themselves on the banks of the Rusizi River. The area is also where Gustave, the world’s largest Nile crocodile, has been spotted.

To get there, you first have to take a small ferry to a larger one.

And then from the smaller ferry, you board a larger ferry.

However, due to the heavy downpour of rain from last night, the whole park was getting too flooded and our later morning ferry was cancelled.

We therefore instead continued an extended city tour, visiting first the Cathédrale Regina Mundi de Bujumbura on its Sunday mass:

And although glimpsing animals within a protected national park would have been better, we were offered instead to visit the city’s downtown Musée Vivant, a small natural history museum and “zoo.” Entrance is BIF 5,000 for non-residents, which includes a guide to show you around.

Exhibits include chimpanzees, a leopard, crocodiles, birds and snakes.

For an additional BIF 10,000-40,000 per feeding, the guide will feed live rabbits and Guinea pigs to the crocodiles, leopard and snakes so you may see them in action.

After half an hour at the zoo, we briefly shopped for souvenirs at the local craft market.

And then we took a short walking tour around the larger, central market.

With plenty of time before my 4:55pm flight back to Addis Ababa, we lounged for a lunch by the beach of the lake at Eden Resort:

The local avocados here are as large as melons!

And with that, we headed off to the airport with a brief pitstop at the Primus Beer Brewery.

Quite weird to have this part come full circle. Last year when Letti and I were in Equatorial Guinea on January 12, 2024, I had received this e-mail about a sudden unexpected “wildcat” strike that was happening in all of Belgium, which had cancelled my flight out of West Africa to finish my trip. I had to go into a frenzy trying to find alternatives, ending up with a flight to Douala to Addis Ababa to Rome.

Well, exactly a year later today also on January 12, 2025, Letti just received this e-mail about a nationwide strike in Belgium, threatening to cancel her flight from this African country into Brussels from Burundi. Is this wildcat strike actually becoming an annual holiday affecting only monsooners going to Africa on January 12th?

So in the heat of rebooking (and much similar to the feverish attempts I tried to rebook my flights last year in Equatorial Guinea with nearly zero internet and data access), Letti rebooked her flight to be with me as we returned back from Burundi to Addis Ababa on the 4:55pm flight, after which she gets on THAT SAME Addis Ababa to Rome flight that I had rebooked onto exactly one year ago!

Signs of full circle on a trip like this? Signs that these “detours” are actually signs we’re heading in the right direction.

As I’m typing this in BJM airport, I must note how security into Bujumbura’s international airport is tight. This is the line to enter the airport 3 hours before departure:

After they check your passport, visa, and ticket outside, they mark down the number of each nationality entering the airport via tally marks on a piece of paper and let you in.

You might have to remind the staff here that you don’t need a visa for Addis Ababa transfers or into Europe with a USA passport, but after a little back and forth, they let us onto the check-in lines.

There’s a lounge for diplomats, and a lounge for business class ($25 to enter if flying economy):

The door to the bathroom in this lounge accidentally also leads you to become the person doing the visas.

After an hour in the lounge, we lined up last to board as business class.

While back at Addis Ababa and after a light dinner, Letti and I bid farewell at the Cloud Nine Lounge, while I finally got to experience their new showers.

Thanks to a redemption via Air Canada on a discounted mileage offer and avoiding the strike in Belgium (deep down I learned not to repeat past mistakes), I’m flying back from Addis Ababa to Paris, getting 8 hours of sleep on this flight . . .

. . . and then taking the RER B from CDG airport to Gare du Nord station for the Eurostar 9315 train to Brussels. Luckily the national strike won’t affect international trains coming in as the 9315 train continues onwards to The Nethelands. With a business class ticket for €20 more, you can access this hidden Grand Voyageur lounge at the Gare du Nord station.

Then in Brussels, I plan to take a flight to LHR once the strike ends in the evening, and then LHR back home. I’ve already written my last thoughts to the group chat, as well as a post to myself.

Just saw ⁨Letti off to her gate. I guess this is goodbye!

Now that we’ve come to the end of this journey, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for being a part of something that’s much more than just another trip. This was the last of its kind for me — the final Monsoon Diaries adventure of hopping between countries we’ve never been to before in a whirlwind, the same spirit in which my whole story began 15 years ago, before the thousands of people that found our blog.

Sharing this with you made it all the more special. You brought such great energy, trust, flexibility, patience, kinship, and camaraderie to something that could have easily felt overwhelming or frustrating without the right group of people. And of course, thank you @⁨Brinks Rik⁩ for being there with us in spirit, introducing us to all your wonderful, relaxed, trusted, thoroughly vetted guides and ensuring our safety and security behind the scenes even when the group split up; nothing was missed.

And as for all of you, I couldn’t have asked for better companions as we ventured into the unknown together. You’ve reminded me why I started doing this in the first place—the thrill of exploration, the strength of a self-assured community, the patience when things detour inherent in what makes an adventure, and the memories we create when we take that leap of faith.

Even though this marks the end of a chapter in how I travel, it’s not goodbye forever. It’s not the end of my adventures—probably just a shift into something new. Whatever that’ll look like, hope to cross paths with you all again, wherever in the world we might land next.

Thank you, truly, for everything. 🌍💛

- At time of posting in Bujumbura, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 62% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: downpours and baking sun

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Let’s Not Fight If We’re Brazza-s-ville

Calvin Sun — Fri, 10 Jan 2025 18:47:12 +0000

To get in, you first need a VISA:

The Republic of Congo website: https://www.ambacongo-us.org/en/embassy-services/consular/visa

1. Download and fill out 2 copies of the visa form
  - ROC Visa Application
2. Attach required documents
  - 2 passport photos with the 2 visa forms
  - The Letter of Invitation
  - Copy of the hotel reservation
  - Copy of your flight itinerary
3. Prepare payment: Obtain a check or money order for
  - $160 and leave it blank
  - Why leave it blank? The Embassy had called me back telling me to resend the $160 money order but this time leaving the payee box blank, and that they would return my original cashier’s check back to me along with my passport and visa in my return envelope
4. Return envelope
  - Provide a prepaid return label and envelope with a tracking number.
  - Use FedEx, UPS, or USPS with a valid return address.
5. Submit your application
  - Include your passport (must have 2 blank pages)
  - Mail or hand-deliver to:

Embassy of the Republic of Congo

Consulate Section

1720 16th street, NW

Washington D.C 20009

Processing Time: 7-10 business days with complications (see above)

In case you missed it, continuing and reposting from yesterday

(since it’s important to know what can happen to you when you arrive at Brazzaville airport):

Probably to balance the impending bureaucracy and inconveniences we were about to face in The Congo, I thoroughly basked in the easy 3 minute walk from the in-Terminal Skylight Hotel where I had stayed overnight, to our 8:45am flight from Addis to Brazzaville at gate B7, literally right in front of my in-terminal hotel room window.

Even though I had woken up a mere 20 minutes before departure, I had so much extra time that I inspected and grabbed some coffee at the Silver Lounge by our gates.

We then boarded at 8:00am for the flight from Addis Ababa, landing about 3 and a half hours later into Brazzaville and disembarked onto a skybridge; our first so far on the trip. Things seemed to be going too smoothly.

As we came down the escalators, they inspected our yellow fever vaccine cards. And then it all went downhill: Letti had to be pulled in a room as she forgot hers in her checked luggage. They then made her pay $30 for not having a physical copy and reissued a new one based on a copy she had on her phone.

Then, as we all got stamped through, Letti once again got pulled to the side after they looked at her LOI (and for some reason skipping ours) and claimed that the LOI was “expired” even though we already all had our visas and stamps. Letti then made the argument that if we as a group were able to stamp in, so should she. As a result, they got to us at baggage claims (even through she was right, we all already had our stamps in), where were all then rounded up and had our passports taken to a backroom by immigrations.

We now know: show them less not more!

After nearly an hour of arguing between us, our local guide Carole, and 3 of the officers in French, the conclusion was they wanted a “fee” for having LOIs issued more than 3 months before the trip. This obviously did not make any sense, but what was more infuriating was that I got the tour company owner, Francel, on speaker phone where he told them he was not even in the country (he was in France) and that we should bear the responsibility of this “fee.” Without any attempt to take our side or make an effort to even split or cover the fee themselves (as we did not have any local cash), we felt like we were left on our own.

Not wanting to lose any more time for my group, I began the haggle. The “fee” began at a whopping $100 USD per person ($500 total!) in XFAs but eventually we tired them out one by one where it was now down to one officer, who relented to the equivalent of $22 USD per person ($110 total), or 75k XAFs.

I then headed to an ATM outside arrivals to grab the XAFs and once the exchange was made…

…we got our passports back.

All of that for this stamp.

So there you have it: it’s already been nuts and we still hadn’t even stepped foot in The Congo!

For info on crossing from Brazzaville to Kinshasa, go here.

Continuing on from yesterday:

From Kinshasa in the early morning, we were planning to head out first thing across the river back to Brazzaville once the border opened at 8am. And our guide and fixer, Terence, had one of his associates, also named Calvin, get to the terminal as early as 6:30am with printed copies of our passports’ front pages to obtain tickets but this proved to be unnecessary — once the border opened at 8am, we were told to still wait as they did not have enough people to fill a boat and leave the port.

So we waited as instructed and by 8:15am I was getting a little nervous (our onward flight out of Brazzaville at 2:00pm in the afternoon got bumped up 2 hours earlier to 12:10pm, leaving us very little room for error). We decided to head over at 8:20am and once arriving at the docks 5 minutes later, we were informed the boat had 9 people so far and they just needed 3 more passengers. By 8:45am our guides on the other side in Brazzaville were texting us asking for updates, indicating their nervousness whether we’d still make our flight.

Once 9am hit, Letti and I made the call to purchase the last 3 seats for $30 per seat to make it the 12 needed so we could head out. Then things began to get moving.

The associate came out, took our passports to get them stamped out of the DRC, took our $90 to confirm the boat could finally leave, and we were shuttled through the health desk showing our yellow fever cards. They then took our temperature and one of them remarked how they remembered me from yesterday about informing them how you only need one dose of the yellow fever vaccine.

After the health desk without a hassle, we moved on to a counter where we left Calvin (the fixer) our passports behind to help stamp us out.

As Calvin and the people behind the counter worked on our passports, we moved on to another desk to have our bags opened and searched.

Then they’ll ask: “do you have any cash” and if you say “no” they’ll press further in order to get you to give them your local cash as a “fee.” Whatever. Don’t play this game: we shrugged our shoulders and said variations of “I have nothing” or “You can ask the guide outside for it” or “do you want Ethiopian Birr?” and move on. Knowing we were not going to give them anything, they then let us round a corner where a guard let us through into the waiting room once our passports were done and ferried back from our fixer.

From that point they wouldn’t let Terence pass so we bid farewell, shaking hands through and above the guard’s shoulder separating us, and moved on to wait another 10 minutes in the waiting room as they handed us life jackets and took down our names from our passports. Then one of the guards in the blue shirts checked our passports and visas again and asked if we had any money on us.

When my guard wasn’t satisfied with my “no” answer he proceeded to ask in English if I spoke French. When I said I didn’t, he grilled me over why I didn’t speak French. So I replied in English that I spoke more Spanish and Mandarin instead, and that the French I learned had spilled out from my brain when that happened. He in turn asked why Spanish, and I replied that people in NYC speak Spanish more than French. He then replied, in Spanish, why not relearn French still, and I remarked how one of my former college-era partners is French, and that’s as much French I could learn during the whirlwind romance that we had.

Stunned at my answer, he laughed, shook my hand, and let me on my way.

There our fixer, Calvin, exchanged the ferry tickets for us and unlike from Brazzaville to Kinshasa, that was the only time I saw evidence of our tickets.

After an hour and half from the originally scheduled time of departure at 8am, we finally boarded our boat and set off at 9:28am for the 4km/2mi crossing.

Reaching Brazzaville across the river at 9:38am, we disembarked and gave our passports to our Brazzaville’ guides’ associates to stamp through, while an officer — also likely paid by our Brazzaville guides — escorted us through the health inspection where they took another look at our Yellow Fever cards and inspected our bags.

There we reunited with our Brazzaville guides again, and we waited another 5 minutes for our passports to get processed. With a multiple-entry visa into the ROC, we got stamped through again, this time without any of the drama we experienced yesterday at Brazzaville airport.

We then set off for a micro-tour of Brazzaville with only an hour and a half before check-in closed at the airport. Understandably, Janet, Sandra and Matt didn’t want to risk missing our flight out so they already had each taken a taxi from their respective accommodations to the airport to save time. However, when I informed this update to our guide, he looked shocked and said we still had plenty of time. After I conveyed this on the group chat, Janet and Sandra decided to have their taxi stop at the Radisson Blu for a pickup, trusting that we’d make it on time while Matt, having decided to rebook his itinerary last night to leave from Addis Ababa to Sierra Leone (instead of continuing on to Bujumbura with us), continued on to the airport just to be extra sure his last minute rebooking got though.

All of that…represents what traveling in the Congo can be like.

But beyond the drama, there’s also so much more: this country is also known as Congo-Brazzaville to distinguish it from its eastern neighbor, Congo-Kinshasa or more officially the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Its population is concentrated where we are now in the southwestern part of the country, leaving an untouched northern tropical jungle. Therefore with more than 85% of its population concentrated in a few urban areas such as Brazzaville and Pointe-Noire, and those along 330 mile/550km railway connecting Brazzaville and Pointe-Noire, this setup makes Congo-Brazzaville one of the most urbanized countries in Africa. Therefore, industrial and commercial activity has declined rapidly, impoverishing rural economies to become dependent on the government for their existence.

About 15,000 Europeans (mostly French) and other non-Africans lived in Congo before the 1997 War; now only about 9,500 remain.

Once we crossed the river and reunited with Matt, Janet, and Sandra, we heard about their quick tour of Brazzaville beginning at the Basilique Sainte-Anne of the Congo, built by Roger Erell in 1949 and one of the most beautiful modern churches in the world.

Next they drove to the Palais du Peuple, a colonial palace built in 1901 and is now the presidential palace.

The Cathédrale Sacré-Coeur, a Catholic church with views of downtown areas such as Poto Poto and Centreville, and Kinshasa across the river.

They then drove by Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza Memorial, a new marble construction in memory of Pierre Savorgnan and his family.

The tallest building in the ROC is the Nabemba Tower at 106m tall and built with a distinct Pan-African design in 1983.

And finally before we finished at the airport, we made time to experience La Sape subculture, a local movement embodying the elegance in style and manners of their colonial predecessors.

For a fee, the sapeurs will come out and put on their proud fashion show and dance-off for you. Mine was on the house.

Having done as much as we could that morning, we headed back to the airport for our return flight to Addis Ababa. Once we got to the airport, Matt was still standing in line, having been forced to wait 40 minutes at a standstill — even when on the Premier Access check-in lane — as he watched multiple groups allowed to pass ahead of him after they paid extra “fees” to avoid waiting.

Then as we finally were allowed to move and check-in, multiple security officers asked us if we had any local currency, ostensibly to then tell us (if we had said yes) that it is “illegal” to take foreign currency out of the country and must be given to them. You can either choose to be righteous, stand your ground, and inform them that it’s a weak argument how the currency is the XAF/Central African Francs/CFA and used in other countries …or just say “no, I don’t.”

And to add to a type of flair unique to The Congo, this was the only time I saw “Free” on the flight ticket, indicating, yes, this had become a Southwest flight and seats were a free for all much to the confusion of all the passengers.

We landed an hour later in Pointe-Noire for a refueling stop:

Within an hour we were back in the air, landing in Addis Ababa about 4 hours later where we said goodbye to Matt as he goes off to West Africa while the 4 of us remaining continue onwards to Burundi!

- At time of posting in Brazzaville, it was 31 °C - Humidity: 60% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: humid, hot, and then some rain

The post Let’s Not Fight If We’re Brazza-s-ville appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Kinshasa My Worries Goodbye!

Calvin Sun — Thu, 09 Jan 2025 05:57:32 +0000

To get in, you first need a VISA:

1. Download and fill out the visa form:
  - DRC Visa Application
2. Attach required documents
  - One passport-style photograph (2″x2″) taken within last 6 months.
  - Invitation letter from your host OR hotel reservation
  - A printed copy of yellow fever vaccination card.
  - Copy of flight itinerary
  - A copy of the front page of your Passport (bio page only)
  - A valid, signed passport with at least two blank pages marked “Visas” side by side and at least six months of validity remaining.
3. Prepare payment – Obtain a check or money order for:
  - $100 for single entry for 1 month
  - $120 for multiple entry for 1 month
  - Make either payable to: Embassy of the Democratic Republic of Congo.
4. Return envelope
  1. Provide a prepaid return label and envelope with a tracking number.
  2. Use FedEx or UPS with a valid return address.
5. Submit your application
  - Include your passport (must have 2 blank pages)
  - Mail or hand-deliver to:

Embassy of the Democratic Republic of the Congo

1100 Connecticut Avenue N.W. Suite 725

Washington, D.C. 20036

Processing Time: 11 days, with complications (read further)

Curiously for me, however, I received my return envelope as scheduled within 11 days but it contained NOT my passport, but rather the passports of 2 other people who lived in Alabama! I immediately emailed and called the Embassy, and an embarrassed agent on the other line stated she must have accidentally swapped our return envelopes. She then hung up to contact the other parties involved who lived in Alabama, and returned our calls to provide both of us with each other’s contact information.

After another quick phone call to each other, we agreed to eschew sending our passports back to the Embassy, and decided to direct mail our respective passports to each other’s addresses. Carefully taking photos of each other’s passports and sending them over to prove we had them, and then again to show we were mailing it out to each other, we were able to retrieve our respective passports within a few days. Whew! What a shitshow.

…And guess what I just read on the entry on the DRC on Wikivoyage/Wikitravel while on my flight to the Congo?

American citizens seeking a visa via the DRC embassy in Washington, D.C. are advised to mail their passport package at least a month before intended travel, as this embassy tends not to answer any phone calls or emails and can misplace passports, possibly until local bribe requirements are met on the Congolese end. On at least one occasion in 2017, a US passport was lost at this embassy for almost 2 months, resulting in loss of the trip and its cost. Note that even with travel insurance, most companies do not reimburse trips missed because of visa issues. Visiting the embassy personally might be the better bet, if at all practical.

Even though I had woken up a mere 20 minutes before departure, I had so much extra time that I inspected and grabbed some coffee at the Silver Lounge by our gates.

We now know: show them less not more!

I then headed to an ATM outside arrivals to grab the XAFs and once the exchange was made…

…we got our passports back.

All of that for this stamp.

So there you have it: it’s already been nuts and we still haven’t even stepped foot in The Congo!

Once we were all outside arrivals, we were picked up by our other local guides helping Carole. As Matt, Janet, and Sandra stayed behind for their 3 hour tour of Brazzaville, Letti and I took a taxi with our guides to the Brazzaville ferry terminal where our goal was to take one of the ferries across the infamous Congo River to visit Kinshasa:

First the guards at the port entrance checked our passports:

And then we gave them to a fixer to process our passports and get stamped out of the ROC. We waited both for formalities to go through and for the boats to fill up with passengers.

Everything takes place in this office:

After an hour waiting for our passports to be stamped out and a boat to fill up, we finally were asked to walk over to the terminal for boarding.

It was only then I finally got to see what our ferry tickets look like:

Our guides then walked us through all the way to the dock.

You don’t get to choose which boat, but it seems the options are the open ferry to the left of this photo, and the enclosed ones to the right. They both take similar numbers of passengers and the same time to get across the river.

We got the open one!

This 10 minute, 2 mile/4km river crossing is both famous and infamous for separating two of the closest capital cities in the world.

And with an uneventful sprint across the might Congo, we reached Beach Ngobila of Kinshasa.

As it arrives at the “beach” or ferry terminal, getting into DRC can be another another ordeal. Thankfully because we arranged for a tour guide, Terence, to help us with the formalities, it got rid of all the potential drama we already had enough of earlier this morning at the airport.

Terence’s associate greeting us at the port (in the orange shirt) is also named Calvin! So you can imagine the confusion I felt when everyone at the dock was shouting our names.

We then first went through health checks, as they measured our temperature with the video camera to the left, and checked our yellow fever vaccine cards. When Letti gave them the replacement yellow fever card that she was issued at the Brazzaville airport earlier this morning (the one that cost $30), they confiscated it, arguing that to be “fair” they too, should be allowed to ask her for a $30 “fee” to give her a replacement card on the DRC side.

Obviously, this was getting ridiculous and with our tour guides arguing with them too, they switched their argument for a “fee” to explain Letti needed 2 doses of the yellow fever vaccine where she only had one. Then they asked for another “fee” in order to give her card back. Frustrated, we walked on and left her card behind.

We then proceeded to the passports desk to our left where the officers there were much friendlier and smiling. That took no drama at all; we got our stamps into the DRC within seconds:

Once we reached outside the ferry terminal, the self-righteous doctor in me realized that if you’re going to hustle me for a bribe, I’m not going to sit there and take it when someone claims in front of my face that we need 2 doses of the Yellow Fever vaccine and then get away with it.

So in the name of justice and with nothing to lose (now that we had our guide, stamps, and bags in the car), I took Letti and the guides back to the health inspections desk, and for the first time in my life pulled rank in the doctor card, and quite literally: I pulled out one of my hospital ID cards (an old one from residency; I guess any would’ve done) and the CDC website showing that one dose is “lifetime,” explaining in both English and French (via Terence) that as a doctor I have every right to question their judgment and the incorrect statement that one needs two doses of the yellow fever vaccine.

They looked shocked, likely never having experienced this kind of response before, and such a poker “tell” with that hesitation in finding an alternative response was enough to break their resolve. They gave back the card to Letti, muttering back and forth in French how they didn’t know the CDC website updated their site confirming it was only supposed to be one dose.

With no other potential fights left to do and feeling like we had achieved karmic balance, we hailed the girl with the umbrella in the above photo to exchange 20,000 XAF to 90,000 CDF (the local currency).

This would be my first “official” visit to the DRC, the last being an unofficial walk into the DRC across the border from Cabinda.

And since we’re talking official, let’s get official for those of you who don’t know the DRC: At 2.3 million square km or 905,000 square miles in size, this country is almost 4 times the size of Texas or if you were to combine France, Germany, Spain, Sweden, and Norway into a single country. Kinshasa on its own is Africa’s most populous city with over 11 million inhabitants and boasts the continent’s 3rd largest metropolitan area, the latter of which also happens to surpass Paris as the largest French-speaking city in the world.

DRC has had many names through its violently checkered history have been: the Congo Free State, Belgian Congo, Congo-Leopoldville, Zaire, and yup, even the Republic of the Congo. It’s currently either the Democratic Republic of Congo (or Congo-Kinshasa to distinguish it from its neighbor, Congo-Brazzaville / Republic of Congo)

Speaking of its checkered history, even when compared to its neighbors, the DRC has survived and endured one of the most gruesome experiences with colonialism under Belgium’s King Leopold II, who first arrived to ransack the country for its rubber and palm oil. Generations of oppression by Belgian control left an unprepared local government to collapse within mere weeks after achieving independence in 1960. Humanity’s bloodiest conflict since World War II took place in the 2 consecutive civil wars here (so consecutive they’re sometimes regarded as one big war), and since then, successive leaders in the DRC have spent most of the economy suppressing multiple rebellions at the expense of infrastructure, education, healthcare, reducing poverty, and improving overall quality of life for its civilians. The largest UN peacekeeping mission (MONUC) in the world remains stationed here, protecting the millions of refugees in various parts of the country, especially in its eastern region.

The DRC still remains one of the least developed countries in the world, and although it’s no longer regarded to be as dangerous as it used to be (as of 2010, The U.S. State Department informed travelers that Kinshasa and other major Congolese cities are generally safe for daytime travel), the everyday backpacker, tourist, or those looking for a fancy tour will have to manage expectations or wait a little longer for the tourism industry to develop further despite the potential: Only the Amazon rivals the DRC as the only other larger rainforest on the planet, and the mighty Congo River (the inspiration for Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness”) forms the backbone of the country’s infrastructure and domestic trade.

Once we crossed into Kinshasa, we were driven over to the Mémorial du Soldat Congolais or the “Congolese Soldier Memorial,” a 3m tall memorial located at the FORESCOM Roundabout in the Gombe commune and in front of the first apartment complex built in Kinshasa. One of the soldiers is walking, another is gazing up at the sky in khaki shorts, and the third is poised for attack

Inaugurated on July 28th, 2017 by President Joseph Kabila, this monument was constructed as a national tribute to all the Congolese soldiers who have fought and died in all of DRC’s conflicts since 1885. Unlike other projected around the city constructed by foreign nations and contractors, this monument was built by a local Congolese monumental sculptor named Christophe Meko Disengomoka.

There is an annual commemoration on May 17 every year, the day when the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire’s liberated Kinshasa from the autocratic ruler Mobutu Sese Seko.

From Gombe we drove south by the river to the Mausoleum of Laurent-Desire Kabila, the country’s president from 1997 to 2001. Kabila was a Ché-inspired Marxist revolutionary in his early 20s as the protege of Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first president. Despite initial years of ignobility, he then met Musevere and Kagame on a trip to Uganda, both of whom were fellow antigovernment rebels at the time. Both of them then became engaged in civil wars of their native countries, won them both, and have remained essentially lifelong presidents of Uganda and Rwanda, respectively, ever since. As the two attained power over time, they agreed to prop up Kabila as their third comrade and Congolese leader.

With Kabila in place, Rwanda and Uganda invaded Congo (then Zaire) in 1997 after which, as promised, Laurent Kabila soon became the president. However, instead of playing nice, Kabila turned totalitarian and against Musevere and Kagame. Uganda, therefore, invaded again and Kabila was eventually assassinated. His son, Joseph Kabila, quickly assumed power afterwards and has remained president since.

When at the mausoleum, you’ll see a giant statue of Kabila with his hand in the air and a book in the other. If it looks familiar, you’re not wrong: this statue was built by the Mansudae Overseas Project from North Korea (having built many brutalist monuments in North Korea and Africa), where allegedly the North Koreans just used a base of a Kim Jong-il body similar to the one in Pyongyang, and attached Kabila’s head to it.

You’ll notice how the monument’s body proportions are incorrect and more closely resembles that of Kim Jong-il, who was a little over 5 feet tall, while Laurent Kabila was over 6 and a half feet tall.

The tomb of Laurent Kabila is behind the statue, underneath a concrete star-shaped canopy with each hand representing a province of the DRC and some with broken chains symbolizing their freedom from Belgian and Western colonialism.

For a “fee” you can get closer to the tomb and take photos (but no videos).

Behind his casket is an inscription of his final words in the hospital before he died: “Never Betray the Congo.”

We then endured Kinshasa rush hour traffic to eventually stop at the Monument of National Unity, located in the Royal Garden where prior to independence, westerners used to gather here for leisure when they held onto Kinshasa. Locals were left to congregate outside the city.

Our guide Terence walked us through Royal Gardens to a hidden arts and crafts market.

After haggling for a few items, we got back in our car and Terence drove us to Parliament:

The parliament faces the Chinese-built Central African Cultural and Arts Center of Kinshasa, the largest of its kind on the continent:

As the sun began to set, we endured Kinshasa rush hour traffic again to get to the Statue De Kasa-Vubu, built in memory of another (but relatively more discreet) president of the DRC who ruled between 1960-1965. President Kabila at the time ordered it to be built so Kasa-Vubu wouldn’t be forgotten.

The statue stands in an evocative neighborhood of Kinshasa:

Nearby, we drove to the Pentacost Martyrs Stadium or Stade des Martyrs, DRC’s national stadium with a seating capacity of 80,000 and the 4th largest in Africa.

We weaved around to the neighborhood by the statue of Papa Wemba, know to have cultivated Le Sape, a subculture founded here at the port of Bacongo where it grew and continues to this day in Kinshasa and Brazzaville. Members are called le sapeurs (men) and sapeuses (women), known for its link to dandyism where practictioners wear extravagant luxury brands as representative of their personal creativity and pacifist philosophy. We’ll meet some of them tomorrow when we’re back in Brazzaville!

It’s as if Wemba was overlooking the culture he heralded, as his statue is positioned by a Kinshasa neighborhood known for its nightlife.

The 20th of May Stadium (or Stade Tata Raphaël) is located behind Papa Wemba’s statue, known for where the legendary heavyweight championship boxing match (and probably the most watched sporting event in the world) between George Foreman and Muhammad Ali, The Rumble in the Jungle, took place on October 30, 1974.

And if there’s not enough stadiums, another one is being built by a Turkish contractor right now:

We then drove by another popular neighborhood where families gather in the evening.

For our final stop, we finished at the Kinshasa “Twin Towers” aka the Congo Trade Center, an 18-story skyscraper complex and shopping center located in Gombe of downtown Kinshasa. The complex is home to a 5-Star hotel, offices, shopping mall, 6 restaurants, a Casino, a gym, and a banquet hall.

You can get views of Brazzaville’s August 15th Bridge across the river from here:

We then were dropped off at the Hilton Kinshasa for dinner and an overnight’s stay saving Limete Tower (Tour de l’Échangeur de Limete) and Tower of the National Heroes of Congo, one of the tallest buildings in Africa, for tomorrow. Began as a monument to Patrice Lumumba in 1966, the tower was finally completed in 2011.

As Matt, Janet and Sandra relaxed in Brazzaville, we waved hi to them from across the river in our lodgings at Hilton Kinshasa!

It’s one of the nicest Hiltons I’ve visited.

And best of all, my room has a mighty view of the mighty Congo:

I picked to stay here primarily for its proximity for our river crossing tomorrow back to Brazzaville before our 12:10pm flight back to Addis Ababa!

- At time of posting in Kinshasa, it was 26 °C - Humidity: 84% | Wind Speed: 3km/hr | Cloud Cover: partly cloudy, humid and hot

The post Kinshasa My Worries Goodbye! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Don’t Get Bangui, Get Even

Calvin Sun — Tue, 07 Jan 2025 16:21:20 +0000

To get in, you first need a VISA

1. Download and fill out the visa form:
  - CAR visa application
2. Attach required documents
  - Physical copy of your passport
  - A 2×2 passport photo of you in front of a white background
  - A letter of invitation
  - A copy of proof of your yellow fever vaccine
  - A letter from employer confirming that you will return back to your home country in order to resume your duties after the trip
3. Prepare payment: Obtain a check or money order for
  - $150 made payable to Freddy Arsene Kore Administrative and financial Counselor to the Embassy
4. Return envelope
  - Provide a prepaid return label and envelope with a tracking number.
  - Use FedEx, UPS, or USPS with a valid return address.
5. Submit your application
  - Include your passport (must have 2 blank pages)
  - Mail or hand-deliver to:
    The Embassy of the Central African Republic
    2704 Ontario Rd NW
    Washington, DC 20009

Processing Time: Quick, just like Chad! 48 hours. Sent it out on a Monday, got it back on a Thursday of the same week!

If you want to risk getting your visa on arrival with a pre-arranged message porté, the document sent to you that you’d print out and bring with you for a visa would look like this:

After 2 days in N’Djamena, we returned to Addis Ababa. Due to Niger not working out for us at the last minute, we ended up with 2 and a half days all to ourselves to figure out what to do from January 4-6 (which was supposed to be spent in Niger). Ultimately Matt decided to go on his own for 2 days in Madagascar, and I got Young Pioneer Tours to arrange a last minute guide and letter of invitation for Letti to spend 2 days in Djibouti.

As for me? I took this time to recuperate to myself in Addis Ababa at the Hyatt Regency which I chose for 2 anniversary free nights I had to use before they expired for the year.

While in Addis Ababa, I enjoyed coffee by myself and with the locals at the OG Ethiopian coffee shop, Tomoca Coffee.

Last time I walked around Addis Ababa to get around, so this time I tried hailing a cab on my own with the RIDE app… but that became an ordeal without a working phone number. Once they accepted your fare, the driver then has to call you to confirm pickup, so you can’t just walk up to it. And I realized every cab I hired was calling me to get me to walk to them, but to no avail.

After an hour of this I eventually caved to sheepishly let the Hyatt Regency concierge get me their driver waiting within the property, who then tried to upsell me in the middle of the trip more than 4x the cost it would have been on the RIDE app. We met in the middle as I did not have enough cash to pay for his originally requested amount.

And wow, for the quality of coffee here, it was worth the fight.

They’re famous for their macchiatos, so I had both that and the original black coffee. And then grabbed a bag of beans to go.

On the way back, I was finally successful using the RIDE app without a working phone number by waiting at a nearby outdoor hotel café and watching for the car to drive by. Once I caught one, I ran up to it before the driver stopped to call me. Success!

This morning I got up at 6:30am for the hotel’s shuttle service to the international terminal in Addis Ababa. I had just been upgraded to Star Alliance Gold on United (thank you Pacific Island Hopper for getting me there!), so I took advantage of skipping all the airport lines starting from the entrance through entrance security, through check-in, through passports, and finally through secondary security screening:

Once through security I realized I had another 2 hours left, so I walked over to book ahead a night’s stay at the in-terminal Skylight Hotel for the next evening (which would on my way back from Bangui before my morning flight to Brazzaville), and then settled in at the Gold Lounge.

I walked over to gate B1 approximately 45 minutes before out 10:00am departure to meet the rest of the group — Matt having just returned from Madagascar and Letti having returned from Djibouti, as well as the 2 sisters on their first monsoon: Janet and Sandra!

After an uneventful 3 hour and 45 minutes in the air, we landed on time at 11:40am local time in Bangui International Airport to a runway filled with United Nations planes:

Once we disembarked, we boarded shuttle buses that first took us to this health depot:

We walked in and had to step up one by one in front of a camcorder device on a tripod that scanned us for a fever, and then showed this guy at the desk our proof of Yellow Fever vaccine pamphlets:

After that, we walked back out and over to the arrivals lounge:

Once stepping inside, we were handed an arrivals form to fill out:

This is where your guide should be able to meet you instead of outside baggage claims. Our guide Norbert was able to quickly find me as I was filling out the form and got us through the the first line quickly to get our passports immediately stamped first (they do everything in reverse):

Then after the stamp, you don’t cross through just yet. Instead you turn around and walk over to a corner of the room to then have your passports scanned, registered etc.

Yup, it’s all reverse here — my guess is that they don’t have the power cords yet to run all the way to the kiosks where they usually scan and register passports before stamping.

After our passports are registered by this guy in the corner wall, we got our visas checked again and headed to baggage claims.

Hello Central African Republic! I had thought you would be my last country considering how “dangerous” it is to be here. But alas, not quite!

For those of you not familiar with this part of the world, the Central African Republic is a landlocked and remote country, and a lack of both water and air access has made it an expensive destination. Costs in Central African Republic can be unexpectedly expensive for foreigners as most commerce and goods must be imported, flown and shipped into the country. The more “local” goods (such as rice, beans, water, etc.) are only slightly cheaper when imported from regional nations such as Democratic Republic of Congo and Cameroon.

It was on December 1, 1958 when the colony of Ubangi-Shari declared itself an autonomous territory and took the name Central African Republic. Their founding father, Barthélémy Boganda, died in a mysterious plane accident a year later in 1959, only eight days before the last elections of the colonial era. The Central African Republic gained its independence in August 1960, after which David Dacko won after a power struggle and by 1962 had established CAR as a one-party state.

Since then it’s been a series of coups, a notorious period of tyranny under a self-declared emperor, Jean-Bedel Bokassa, and occasional violence from both rebel groups and outside mercenary contractors, during, from and because of which the people of Central African Republic have suffered the most.

After getting to the airport parking lot, we loaded our luggage and drove past a long line of colorful and diverse markets along the road from and to the airport: Already more bustling and way denser than the more spread out N’Djamena of 3 days prior.

We then arrived 15 minutes later at Kitika Hotel, the alternative upmarket choice from the more chosen Oubangui Hotel.

My room was quite solid. Fast WiFi, great AC, and comfortable bed. The bathroom, however, needed some practice: out came brown water from the faucets when I first turned them on, and they then gestated more spurts of mist than running water; this hotel is either really really new, or not booked as often.

My favorite part was the great view of central Bangui from my room:

After we freshened up while Sandra and Janet managed to find their Airbnb 6 minutes away, we then reconvened at 2pm for a tour of Bangui. Norbert tried to have us begin our tour at a crafts market to buy souvenirs but without any local currency, that plan was scrapped quickly.

So we instead shuffled over across the street to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-de-l’Immaculée-Conception of Bangui, the largest cathedral in Bangui.

We made it just in time for their Coptic Christmas!

From the cathedral we then drove past their parliament:

…and stopped for a quick photo at the 50th Anniversary Garden (assuming it’s to commemorate their 50 years of independence) aka the Jardin Du Cinquantenaire, which has been left abandoned to its fate and disrepair.

To obtain more local XAF currency, we stopped at Norbert’s friend’s café to exchange US Dollars at a competitive rate:

Now with cash in hand, we were guided by Norbert through and around their frenetic central market 5 km (3 mi) further north in the heart of the residential area.

What I found unique is that their raw meat butchery and fish market is in the same giant, main room as their vegetables and farmer’s market. It’s all there in one big room.

And just to compare, after the central market we visited Prima Supermarket inside Bangui Mall that was flowing with UN personnel. Most of these supermarkets in Bangui are owned by Lebanese families, so you may find the presence of Middle Eastern goods and food here (expect them to be pricey as they all have to be imported).

We stumbled upon a dental clinic next to the supermarket where our very own dentist-in-residence, Letti, checked out for herself and found a state-of-the-art dental suite — She was impressed!

After that, Norbert starter to feel a little fever and sore throat and had us return back to our hotels to freshen up for a few hours while he went to the hospital. We then got back together at 6pm without Norbert to have dinner all to ourselves by the river at the Oubangui Hotel’s 2nd floor restaurant.

When we were about to eat our grilled river capitán fish dishes, we found out we were essentially served seared tuna as it was completely uncooked past the surface. I had a few bites in when I then noticed our local driver from Kitika Hotel asked to send his fish back to cook it a little more. Taking that a sign, the rest of us did as well much to the chef’s chagrin.

The next morning after breakfast Norbert returned, looking fresh and healthier as ever, and we set off towards the city center and central shopping district that lies near the river and features a large triumphal arch dedicated to Bokassa.

Continuing on, we encountered a checkpoint where the AK-47 wielding female police officers inspected each of our passports and visas while our driver (sent from Oubangui Hotel) argued with the male officer why he was being stopped.

After 10 minutes of yelling back and forth, we were let on our way and passed a ton of UN military presence (imagine tanks and APCs marked “UN” on the side with soldiers carrying assault rifles and manning turrets) to stop at the St. John Catholic Church.

A new cathedral is currently being built here.

We then drove back, stopping again at the Oubangui Hotel to walk towards the peninsula of Roche de Bangui.

Across an elevated walkway from the hotel pool, the rock allowed us nearly a third of the way into the river to take a little closer look at the Democratic Republic of the Congo on the other side.

It’s so close that a ferry ride across would take not even 5 minutes cost only 25,000 XAF.

From the rock you can get views of the coast of Bangui . . .

We then returned to our van and passed by the Renaissance or Presidential Palace from the outside:

Equally pretty is the modern architecture of the University of Bangui. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a student here.

And some roadside modern art:

We tried to enter and visit the Boganda National Museum, but as always, it’s closed.

Nonetheless, you can still see its murals depicting the life of Barthélémy Boganda; they’re painted on the perimeter wall outside the museum beginning from his revolution to his mysterious death in a plane crash.

From the museum we drove around the corner passing by the Kitika Hotel again, and did our last minute shopping at the crafts market now that everyone there knew we had cash in our pockets.

Finally, to round out our tour, we took a photo of Bangui’s unique memorial built in honor of the Wagner Group.

There’s another one to Prigozhin and Utkin a few blocks away:

Then Norbert dropped us off at 11:15am at the airport where we took a group photo in the parking lot, having forgotten to do so the entire time in Bangui. Oops!

We then proceeded through the security outside of the airport first, beginning with a little house where they manually open and look through all your bags.

Then we went through a second house where they inspect your yellow fever vaccine.cards.

And then a passport check before you walk inside:

There we said our goodbyes to Norbert, wished him good health, and proceeded to check-in. Once at the check-in desk I was then guided to a back room past immigrations (never walked so blatantly past a passports area without getting stamped in and out) where I met a South Asian Ethiopian Airlines manager in the back to undo a system error they were finding with our reservations.

While Matt headed back after a single click of a button, I stayed behind to help a stranded traveler named Adam rebook his itinerary from Port Sudan (since he didn’t obtain a visa in time) to Cairo.

I’d then found out Adam was the same guy who I noticed on my way into Bangui yesterday having hired Norbert’s competitor as his fixer, William, and felt that we were meant to strike up a chat eventually. But the ‘when’ of it all, well, I usually try not to answer and leave that up to the universe.

I guess it would respond quickly as we’d find out in this room, we were both flying in and out of Bangui at the same time, on the same flight, to meet in this room, to find out he also just published a book about what I do for a living: Extreme Entrepreneurship!

This led me to help him find many different ways to get on our flight, after which he was able to get on with us.

We ended up chatting more on the flight, and finding out we’d had mutual travel buddies, that then led to him later interviewing me for his interview series at the Addis Ababa Gold Lounge in the airport before he had to run to board his onward flight to Cairo as one of its last passengers!

Where Janet and Sandra have now ventured outside the airport to meet a friend in Addis Ababa, Letti, Matt and I are now staying overnight in the terminal before continuing onwards to both sides of the Congo River.

- At time of posting in Bangui, it was 20 °C - Humidity: 94% | Wind Speed: 3km/hr | Cloud Cover: frying pan, so little to none

The post Don’t Get Bangui, Get Even appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Is This The End of an Era?

Calvin Sun — Mon, 06 Jan 2025 18:45:12 +0000

This trip feels different.

I’m on what will likely be my very last Monsoon trip that embodies the spirit of how this all began: a whirlwind journey through multiple countries no one in our group has been to before. This time, it’s Chad, Niger, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Republic of Congo, and Burundi—all in a single itinerary with 5 other monsooners. It reminds me of that first trip back in May 2010, when The Monsoon Diaries was nothing but an idea and a leap of faith.

Back then, it was about the unknown, about throwing ourselves into the deep end, trusting each other, and coming out the other side with stories we could never have predicted. It was “group travel for people who hate group travel” and pushing boundaries together, even when we had no guarantees that things would work out.

But after this trip, the nature of these adventures will change. No more new slew of countries to visit. My future adventures will likely be more focused, single-destination trips, with no new multi-country whirlwind itineraries like this. The kind of experience The Monsoon Diaries is known for—the bold, messy, transformative chaos of visiting 3+ new countries in a week or two—will come to an end.

I’ve spent the first few days of this trip thinking about that. Mourning, even. Because while this isn’t the end of travel for me, it’s the end of a certain kind of travel—a style that defined not just these journeys but also who I’ve become and the connections I’ve made with others along the way.

How do you say goodbye to something that’s shaped you so deeply? It feels self-indulgent to grieve when this kind of privilege—to travel, to explore, to connect—isn’t accessible to most. But I believe it’s also important to honor what this era has meant, both to me and the countless others who’ve joined me over the years.

This is more than a trip; it’s a reminder of how far we’ve come, of the connections we’ve made, and the idea that no matter what comes next, those lessons will carry forward. It’s an ending, but it’s also a new beginning.

For now, we’re only four days into this journey. The horizon is still wide, and the story isn’t finished yet.

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N’Djamena It? I’m Gonna Go To Chad?

Calvin Sun — Fri, 03 Jan 2025 20:29:36 +0000

First you need…

Getting the Visa

Here’s the process:

1. Download and fill out the visa form:
  - Chad Visa Form
2. Attach required documents:
  - Filled out visa form
  - A physical 2×2 passport photo.
  - Your onward flight ticket out from Chad.
  - An invitation letter.
3. Prepare payment; obtain a money order or certified check for:
  - - $150 for single entry.
    - $200 for 3-month multiple entry.
    - $250 for 6-month multiple entry.
      Make it payable to: Embassy of Chad.
4. Prepare mailings:
  - Provide a separate prepaid return label and envelope with a tracking number.
  - Use FedEx, UPS, or USPS with a valid return address.
5. Submit your application:
  - Include your passport (must have 2 blank pages).
  - Mail or hand-deliver to:
    Chad Embassy in the U.S.A.
    2401 Massachusetts Ave NW
    Washington, DC 20008

Processing Time: Quick just like the Central African Republic! Sent out on a Monday morning, received it back by Thursday morning of the same week.

New Year, New Journey

This year we bucked tradition and skipped celebrating the New Year’s countdown, opting instead to sleep early for a full night’s early rest; after all, we had a 48 hour ordeal to reach the country of Chad from the States..

Starting from EWR Airport in Newark, I could tell things were already busy from the holidays when the CLEAR TSA PreCheck line was as long as the regular lines without CLEAR or PreCheck:

After security I used my remaining time to enjoy formal dining at the United Polaris Lounge.

This was my view:

With minutes between dining and boarding, I went ahead with sneaking in a pre-booked shower appointment at the United Polaris for a quick rinse before boarding clean and fresh for my 7 hour flight to London.

After I arrived into London Heathrow after skipping the onboard meals and getting in perhaps 4-5 hours of solid sleep, our pilot was proud to announce we were the first plane of the day to land in London Heathrow at 5am. I took advantage of this by being the first to zoom through passports and navigated an underground jaunt to reach the airport’s Central Bus Station. The next stop: I needed to take LHR’s frequent National Express buses direct to London Gatwick Airport for my transfer flight to Istanbul.

Conveniently I found a Black Sheep Coffee café at the station for a pick-me-up so I skipped a 6:20am bus just for a long black and some matcha before boarding the 6:30am bus from LHR to LGW.

The bus ride took an hour, and the extra 10 minutes to enjoy a coffee at the station allowed me to have the whole bus to myself and had us catch up to the 6:20am and 6:00am buses anyway!

Having used miles to redeem for a business class redemption itinerary from NYC to Chad, I sailed through Turkish Airlines check-in; I showed them my passport, my visa for Chad (it was the check-in agent’s first time seeing a handwritten visa), picked my seats, and obtained my tickets and lounge passes to them speed through Fast Track to the “No. 1 Lounge” inside departures:

From Istanbul to N’Djamena

After a hour’s breakfast at the lounge, I boarded my onward 4 hour Turkish Airlines flight from LGW to IST, where after landing I immediately met up with Letti at the Turkish Airlines Business Class lounge inside IST airport. No transfer security necessary; I deboarded right into the gates area!

After a quick reunion (we last saw each other 3 months ago in Bhutan!) and leaving my bags with her, I walked over to check out the lounge’s new VR flight simulator; fitting on a pair of Oculus Rift goggles, I got buckled belly down on this hydraulic glider and spent 5 minutes “flying” around Istanbul with a fan blowing in front of my face to mimic the wind. It’s a good start but I think kids would love this the most.

I then returned just in time to have Matt (his first monsoon!) meet Letti to begin our trip.

The 3 of us then walked over to gate A4B, getting on our TK635 hopper flight that would take us to both Niamey and N’Djamena.

Other than accidentally letting economy passengers get on before premium cabin passengers for a few minutes, everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly until I realized our bus made a full circle before stopping back at our departures gate to let us off back to where we started. Apparently we were being shuttled over 10 minutes too early for boarding as they were still 1) looking for their pilot and 2) “technical maintenance.”

After 20 minutes we thankfully were ask to re-board, this time in the usual cabin order, but it didn’t matter anyway (whether to them or to me), because the entire plane crammed into a single bus anyway. Let’s try this again!

The flight took off an hour late, landing 6 hours later in Niamey airport for refueling.

After letting out nearly 3/4 of the plane, we waited an hour to refuel, re-claimed our cabin luggage for security, and then took off for another 2 hour flight to N’Djamena, Chad.

Landing at around 4am totally bleary-eyed and jet lagged, we were placed in separate buses based on cabin class which I haven’t seen done outside of Bangkok and Doha. This led us to be the first to get to passports and immigrations.

Once arrived, they took our temperature but curiously did not ask for copies of our yellow fever vaccine card. We then filled out these arrival forms that were scattered on a desk in the back.

With completed forms we headed to the front to have our photos taken and fingerprints scanned. After a quick look at our visa above and asking where we were staying, we got stamped into Chad:

There’s another officer who checks your visa, thanks you for visiting his country, and lets you on your way downstairs at baggage claims after which another set of security staff takes the “claims” part seriously, matching checked luggage with a tag you’re supposed to still have on you. Matt was very narrowly able to sweet talk his way through not being able to find his tag.

After I withdrew some XAF cash from the only working ATM in baggage claims and screening our bags through customs, we walked out into official Chad!

For more than 2 millennia, the Basin of Chad became a crossroads of civilizations: The Sao was first, which then fell to the Kanem Empire which based their control of the trans-Saharan trade routes that passed through the basin.

Then the French arrived; their colonial expeditions formed the Territoire Militaire des Pays et Protectorats du Tchad in 1900, and by 1920, they had secured Chad as part of French Equatorial Africa. Then during World War II when France was occupied by Nazi Germany, over 15,000 Chadian soldiers fought for Free France and in return, France granted Chad the status of an overseas territory and its inhabitants the right to elect representatives to both the French National Assembly and to a Chadian assembly. Chad then achieved independence on August 11, 1960 with François Tombalbaye, as its first president. After banning opposition parties and establishing a one-party system, Tombalbaye’s actions sparked a civil war in 1965 where he was then deposed and assassinated by Muslim rebels in 1975. However, the insurgency continued for another 4 years where rebel factions remained in control of N’Djamena and all central authority in the country further deterioated. This led to another civil war in which even neighboring Libya got involved, and then was repelled (which Chadians are very proud of).

Relative peace finally arrived in Chad in 1990 with a drafted democratic constitution, and (internationally questioned) presidential elections in 1996 and 2001. Another rebellion fomented in northern Chad in 1998 and continues today despite successive ceasefire agreements between the government and the rebels. New rebel groups have emerged in Sudan (made worse by the new civil war), threatening eastern Chad. Constitutional term limits was removed in 2005 after a referendum and a failed coup in N’Djamena took place in 2008. The situation remains in stagnation so any tourism outside of N’Djamena requires a special permit and therefore difficult. Otherwise, N’Djamena in of itself has remained relatively safe, with petty street crime and corrupt police/officials on par for the course (as in most of the world).

Once we exited past a security gate outside arrivals, our arranged guide Josué (pronounced Joshua) and driver Abdoulaye of Zenith tours were waiting for us. We made our greetings and took a 20 minute quiet pre-dawn drive through the darkness of N’Djamena (the only people up were military folks doing their morning exercises) to the local Radisson Blu, where we caught up just in time with the TK635 flight crew who had just finished their check in.

Although we had booked only one night for the 3rd to the 4th and therefore had arrived a generous 10 hours before check-in, the concierge was gracious enough to allow us the way way way early check-in. As this was happening, one of the Turkish Airlines pilots came back downstairs interrupting us to complain that his room was full of “dead insects,” “sex and shit,” and a whole lot of “I can’t sleep like this” just so he could get another room.

We feared the worst.

But once we got inside our rooms, it looked pretty swell to me! Agreeing with Josué that we should start our day at 9am, we knocked out for an unexpected 3 hour power nap from 5am to 8am.

Exploring N’Djamena

Central Square

Waking back up for breakfast at the hotel, the 3 of us then set out at 9am with Josué and Abdoulaye for our city tour, beginning at Place de la Nation and the center of the capital city.

This plaza and square was built for the 50th anniversary of the independence of the Republic of Chad.

As we were taking photos, this guy approached Letti and asked her if she had any food. So she took out a fresh cookie (still in its original, clear packaging) from her fanny pack and gave it to him, where then a few seconds later after walking away, we heard a thunk and saw that he threw it right back at her feet. Rude.

Moving on, we walked to the other side of the plaza:

Scattered around are various aspects of Chadian culture including sculptures and various forms of musical instruments.

Our Lady of Peace Cathedral faces the plaza.

This cathedral is the seat of the Archdiocese of N’Djamena and was restored 12 years ago in 2023:

The church is closed to visitors during prayer and mass, but we were able to visit again later in the afternoon when it was completely vacated. They’ll even turn all the lights back on for you!

Don’t miss the un-photographable (so use a zoom lens if you really want to take a photo) Presidential Palace:

Equally unphotographable? The nearby US Embassy:

Markets and Mosques

We then drove over to the N’Djamena Grand Mosque, which is closed off to non-Muslims:

The central market is right in the neighborhood, however, so we got out for the obligatory African market stroll and an authentic look at local life.

Stalls brimmed with vibrant goods, from produce to handcrafted items.

After nearly an hour of walking around, we got back into our van to drive through another market in the outskirts:

…and then through a livestock market:

I recall that when we were in Somaliland back in May 2023, our guides were eagerly boasting how they’re the only place in the world with the OG black-headed sheep, namely the Blackhead Persian. Well, Chad ups the ante with their half-black-bodied sheep!

We then returned back to the center and stopped at the National Museum and Library:

We first visited the national museum on our left:

The immediate first exhibit tries to depict Chad as the one of the few who successfully repelled an Arabic invasion of their lands with examples of what Chadian soldiers had looked like back then. One can’t help wonder if these examples were supposed to resemble that of child soldiers. I hope not.

The rest of the first floor explains the different regions, cultures, tribes, and people that make up Chad as well as many artifacts from its history, although many have been lost due to looting during the last civil war. All captions are in French.

The second floor dives into Chad being the “origin” of humanity with the world’s oldest fossils of our humanoid ancestors found here in Chad dating as far back as 7 million years ago:

After a quick look at the museum’s basement temporary exhibit featuring current excavations going on around the country, we then walked over to the National Library:

As we were perusing, our guide Josué received an offer to work at the National Library as its first English-speaking curator — a twist that might alter his path forever as he accepted!

We then drove out again, observing noon prayers.

Before lunch, we got out once more for an artisan and crafts markets for quick souvenir shopping. Pieces that start out at 25,000 XAF can be bought for 5,000 XAF if you dig your heels in here:

Then at 1:30, Josué took us to his favorite place for lunch:

Afternoon Adventures

As Matt started to fade from both the lunch-itis and jet lag, we set back out at 3pm after lunch for a quick visit inside the cathedral, and dropped him back off afterwards at the Radisson Blu to rest. Josué and Abdoulaye then drove us over to where he studied at the National University of N’Djamena:

They’re still on winter break when we visited, so we had the whole campus to ourselves:

A chemistry lab:

An apocalyptic looking building that’s supposed to be an amphitheater:

From his university, we next drove to Josué’s elementary school. This tour is starting to feel like a reverse autobiography:

From there, we drove through the UNICEF refugee camp for those fleeing from war.

Most of the families are fleeing from the current Sudan civil war that sadly erupted just last year across the border:

Although most of the tents are UNICEF, some families built theirs in their own traditional style:

Taking it all in, we continued on to mediate upon the views of neighboring Cameroon across the Logone River:

We noticed various groups of locals bathing, fishing, laundering clothes, and socializing with friends after a hard day’s work:

Or, the river is their work:

Cameroon is so close across the river, you can pay $1 just for a quick ferry ride and enter a new country!

To finish off our day, we then returned to the city center for a stroll through N’Djamena’s annual month long Le Festival Dary:

Created in 2018, Le Festival Dary is the city’s annual cultural event that promotes Chad’s cultural diversity through various representations of its 23 regions through dances and food.

Enjoying the festival for almost an hour, Letti and I felt our batteries begin to drain with the sunset, and so Josué returned us back to our lodgings for an early night’s rest (and our first full night in a bed) by 7pm.

We left promptly the next morning after breakfast for our onward flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.

Although Ethiopian Airlines had emailed Matt and Letti last week informing them to come to the airport 4 hours prior to departure for expected delays with check-in, we were turned away by security for arriving too early…3 hours and 30 minutes before departure.

So we waited inside our van for about 45 minutes before they finally let us inside for what felt like a smooth check-in. This led us to have almost 3 hours to bum around the departures hall with a very basic lounge you can pay to get in for 30,000 XAF:

- At time of posting in N'Djamena, it was 21 °C - Humidity: 35% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: dry heat, not too bad!

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Niger-ly There!

Calvin Sun — Fri, 03 Jan 2025 07:00:49 +0000

To get in, you first need a VISA:

1. 1. Download and fill out 2 COPIES of the visa form:
    - Niger online Visa Form.
  2. Attach the following documents
    - 2 copies of the filled out visa form
    - 2 passport photos to accompany the 2 visa forms
    - A Letter of Invitation
  3. Prepare payment; obtain a money order or certified check for:
    - $155 made payable to Embassy of Niger
  4. Prepare mailings:
    - Provide a separate prepaid return label and envelope with a tracking number.
    - Use FedEx, UPS, or USPS with a valid return address to where you want your visa delivered
  5. Submit your application:
    - Include your passport (must have 2 blank pages).
    - Mail or hand-deliver to:
      Niger Embassy in the USA
      2204 R Street, NW
      Washington DC 20008 USA

Processing Time: It’s been 4 months and still waiting on it! Luckily you only need to send in a paper copy of your passport with the mailing as they’re fine with processing your visa without the actual physical copy of the passport.

They’ve been otherwise responding to all our inquiries and e-mails within hours, and then offering to generate this letter for us as our travel dates ominously approached:

So therefore, this is as far as we could get in Niger:

From Istanbul, we landed in Niamey and spent about 2 hours here to wait for our aircraft to refuel before embarking on our onward trip to N’Djamena, Chad.

Next time!

–EDIT–

One year later: SUCCESS!!!!

- At time of posting in Niamey, Niger, it was 33 °C - Humidity: 10% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: the cool night of rejection and despair

The post Niger-ly There! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Easter Island: It’s A Rap-a Nui!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 04 Dec 2024 17:58:10 +0000

Been on all our list, it has its own emoji 🗿, it’s been in the collective consciousness of all those who travel, and like Faroe Islands, it deserves to be visited before you grow too old. The 8 of us jumped on making this trip happen after Thanksgiving and here we are.

LATAM Airlines of Chile has a monopoly on all the flights in and out of Easter Island so it’s likely you will begin your journey from the domestic terminal of Santiago, capital of Chile. That monopoly is so bad that if you miss your first flight to Easter Island and every other flight would be fully booked (like for our week), you likely can never go to Easter Island at all…which is what happened to Melissa:

11:09pm Got to the gate literally at time of departure

11:10pm And they let other ppl on right in front of me bc they had a connection? It was so baffling, like why can’t I also step on this plane

11:11am: Still haven’t spoken to an agent after the gate to sort a “hotel” but my flight is at 6am and it’s gonna be midnight before I clear immigration so what’s the point? I’m just hoping I can get on the Sunday Easter island flight and that it’s not fully booked

12:23am: It’s fully booked from what I can tell

4:12am: I’m not making it at all. Boarding a flight back to Chicago in two hours

1:42pm: No I spoke with the Latam agent at 3am today and every flight on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday was full. There was zero possibility . . . i didn’t ask for a standby list…i didn’t wanna go to Santiago and risk not getting to easter island, i really didn’t wanna spend a whole week in santiago

11:53am: when i told the Avianca agent that this missed connection basically fucked my whole itinerary, she asked me if there was an option for me to get from Santiago to easter island another way, like over land. in my incredible frustration and lack of eating for 12 hours i was hissing through my teeth “it’s an island. in the middle of the ocean”

Don’t let what happen to Melissa happen to you!

When you enter Terminal 1 of Santiago’s airport, turn left and make sure you find the dedicated security line for Easter Island travelers only on your right.

…because the general domestic terminal line for all other flights in Chile is bonkers crazy. Notice the difference between left (domestic flights) and right (flights to Easter Island):

Once at the “passports” kiosk, you need to show your passport, an invitation letter, and have already filled out the entry form online to enter the island before you board your flight.

The flight is about 5-6 hours each way between Santiago and Rapa Nui. Thank goodness for the in-flight entertainment onboard because otherwise it’s pretty bare bones in terms of bells and whistles.

Once arrived, we were picked up by our Airbnb hosts and locals outside arrivals, adorning each of us with a fresh lei. This is more Polynesia than South America!

We then drove on to settle in our house located on the outskirts of Hanga Roa.

A primer: Before the arrival of Western civilization, the inhabitants of Rapa Nui who had occupied all the island were of different family clans as suggested by the numerous archaeological remains found here. However, as expected from any colonial power, successive foreign occupations that took place on Easter Island dramatically changed the spatial organization of the island since the middle of the 19th century.

During the early 1800s, the Chilean government leased the island to the Compañía Explotadora de Isla de Pascua (Easter Island Operative Company) and the island natives were held in the space occupied by Hanga Roa. The rest of the island now uninhabited was then dedicated exclusively to livestock and farming. A wall with access gates surrounded Hanga Roa, transforming it into a ghetto for the natives, who were banned from roaming their own home, as well as their other fundamental rights.

This situation continued until Alfonso Rapu led an uprising in 1964, which resulted in the enactment of Law 16,441 or Ley Pascua, after which the Rapa Nui natives acquired Chilean citizenship with all their rights. Now free from their isolation, the Polynesian heritage of Rapa Nui people has mixed into the Chilean race and has taken on consumerism and tourism head on.

Hanga Roa remains the only “city” on Easter Island, where more than 90% of the population lives. Less than half are of native origin, and the rest are mainly Chilean and expats. Outside of traditional fishing and small-scale farming, the majority of the population is engaged in tourism as their main source of income.

Hanga Roa, which means “wide bay or long bay” in native language, is located geographically southwest of the island, between the volcanoes Rano Kau and Maunga Terevaka.

The city is organized around two major main streets that function like axes; first of which is the Atamu Tekena Street, named after the last ariki or king of Easter Island. This street begins on Hotu Matu’a Avenue and leads to the airport. The Rapa Nui Parliament, the LAN office, Chilean navy, the pharmacy and the Municipality, as well as a large number of restaurants, hotels, shops, supermarkets and tourism agencies are all located along this street.

The other major street is the Te Pito or Te Henua street (“the navel of the world” in local language), which begins at the sear and rises to the end of the church of Santa Cruz. You can find the post office, the fire station, a school, and another series of shops, hotels and restaurants are all along here.

Both streets converge upon the Plaza Tekena Toro, where statues and busts of Rapa Nui’s annexation into Chile line a central garden plaza. It brags on Google Maps that it’s a free Wi-Fi plaza.

If you have time, check out the coastal edge of town that that begins on the lower slope of the Rano Kau volcano, passes through the Hanga Piko port, continuing along Apina Avenue, until reaching Pea beach and the Hanga Roa Otai cove. This road continues along Policarpo Toro Street until ending at Hanga Vare Vare, a place that hosts all kinds of events, especially the Tapati Rapa Nui, which is located near the cemetery and the impressive Tahai ceremonial center, where you can find one of the best sunsets on the island.

Once settling into our lodgings, we took a walk to explore more of Hanga Roa, beginning at Holy Cross Church: The only Catholic church on Easter Island and located at the end of Te Pito Street.

Rapa Nui’s Craft Market is located in front of the Holy Cross Church:

Walking down, we reached the new Municipal Stadium located on the coastal edge of Hanga Roa; the pitch was inaugurated by Pelé.

If facing the sea from here at Plaza Hotumatua . . .

. . . turn left for Hanga Vare Vare, a large and relaxing green space where the horses tend to graze . . .

. . . as well as an event venue space for island activities.

Pea is a small beach here that is located on the coast here, ideal for surfing and bodyboarding.

Continuing up the coast this way, we reached Tahai cemetery:

From there we sat down for a long lunch at one of the seaside restaurants near the cemetery:

We bear witness to Melinda’s and KJ’s first pisco sours!

After lunch we walked back down the coast south towards the stadium, where it sits next to a tourist information office that can stamp your passports with a moai:

Afterwards we bought provisions at nearly every open market and grocery store we could find, freshening up for an hour, and then heading out back to Hanga Roa for a splendid 9pm dinner at Hotel Taha Tai for sunset.

The next morning the gang got up for our first day touring the rest of Easter Island!

At around 10 am we were picked up by Rapa Nui Dream for a two part tour around the island, starting in reverse (to avoid the crowds) at the well preserved Ahu Nau Nau: A beautiful platform with 7 Moai (4 of them wearing hats!) about 150m inland from Anakena/Hanga Rau o Te Ariki beach.

Easter Island just got served.

Nearby is a lonely moai named Ature Huki, a much larger moai statue and registered to be one of the island’s oldest completed moai:

This is all by Anakena Beach where locals head to for picnics and swimming:

This is where the national park stations begin to check our passports and a copies of our individual national park tickets before letting us enter.

We then walked down to Ahu Te Pito Kura, aka “navel of light” after the type of rock used to construct the lone toppled over moai here.

This moai used to be the guardian of a series of very rounded out magnetic stones with legendary properties, and once the location of the longest line of moai:

Next up: the crown jewel of Easter Island at Ahu Tongariki: The largest platform (ahu) in Polynesia on which 15 moai are erected with their backs to the ocean. We planned to return here for sunrise!

The moai at the entrance of Tongariki is the only one to ever have been willingly lent to and returned from a foreign country (Japan, for its world fair in Osaka):

There’s a platform at the back of Tongariki where you can look down at old rock art of times past, or ahead for a fuller view of the moai:

From here we got a little closer:

There’s another fallen moai as well:

After Tongariki, we drove onwards for a leisurely 80 minute hike to and around Rano Raraku: a crater and essentially a ‘moai factory’ with approximately 400 unfinished moai now taken over by one thousand years of nature.

You can tell they were unfinished as they are in varying stages of construction with tools buried underneath the mounds. Also interesting to note is that they are all facing the ocean, instead of those that are facing the people inland once they have been finished.

If you take your time to look hard enough at the cliff inside this crater, it becomes a “how many moai do you see” game?

90 mesmerizing minutes walking through the surreal:

We then walked up and weaved around the hill for a superb birds-eye view of Tongariki:

…and stumbled upon a baby moai, and the only one to feature a bottom.

On our return hike back we continued to notice more moai hidden within the cliffside:

We then had a quick lunch outside the trailhead and drove onwards to Ahu Vaihu: A platform of 8 moais fallen over their faces along an ancestral fishermen’s bay.

We then wrapped up our first day at Ahu Akahanga, where you can see what was an old village and representative sample “Poko Manu Mea” of Rapa Nui villages and customs.

By 6pm we were dropped off at our request at Henua Market, where we loaded up on cooking supplies for a backyard BBQ back at our AirBnB.

On Day 2 we were picked up again at our lodgings at around 10:15am for our first stop at Ahu Vinapu – 2 ancestral platforms with buried and toppled moai.

There’s 2 buried moai heads, one being more recent:

And one much older given the scraggly features compared to the other:

We then braved the winds up on top of Orongo, an archaeological site and ceremonial village located on the top of the extinct volcano of Rano Kau.

This is where royalty had lived and initiated the “Birdman” games that would determine which chief and tribe got to rule Rapa Nui for a year.

For the Birdman games, a chief selected representing each tribe would be a contestant where they’d run down to the bottom of the volcanic crater, climb down the cliffs, swim to this island, find a specific type of bird egg, and swim back carrying one of them. Whoever brought back the first bird egg back here in Orono would become king and live in this area of the island for a year.

Trying our best not to be swept away by the high winds, we ran back to our bus and headed into town to buy some lunch. Our next stop: Ahu Akivi – a platform of 7 moais facing the sea in representation of the 7 explorers.

These moai were the first to be restored with modern technology.

Then for our final part of the day, we hiked an hour and a half through Ana Te Pahu Caverns, where entire tribes used to sleep, live, garden, and hide from other tribes during times of warfare:

Don’t forget to bring your headlamp! The spelunking here features both wide and expansive hollowed out lava tube halls, as well as long hanging rock that can bump you in the head:

If you look up you can see pyrite or “fool’s gold” up on the roof!

The end of the walkable parts of the lava tunnel leads to a hidden entrance and exit for tribes to sneak away in.

We then climbed out a more normal entrance for normal-sized humans.

After 2 days of exploring Rapa Nui, we woke up early at 5am this morning to be driven for a sunrise at Ahu Tongariki on the south coast.

We were picked up at around 5:45am to arrive there by 6:15am for a 7am sunrise.

As the sun rose, we surprised Melinda for her birthday!

Even doggo came to celebrate her:

This makes it a birthday celebration on every monsoon since Syria!

We lingered here for another hour. It’s not hard to see why.

By 8am after everyone had their fill, we were driven back to our accommodations. We then dropped off our stuff and continued Melinda’s birthday celebrations at Polynesian Coffee and Tea by the coast in Hanga Roa while getting to know our new friend Sean!

They make a mean breakfast and coffee here:

Happy Birthday, Melinda! Thanks for making this your 4th monsoon in a year!

After a free day we got together for one final dinner outside by sunset:

The next morning we enjoyed a free morning and then headed out at 12:30pm for our 2:00pm flight out. Look at this line to go through migrations!

I took this photo from inside the men’s bathroom:

Having put down a $450 bid to upgrade from my $200 flight from IPC to SCL, I got a last minute approval to be bumped up to Premium Business Class!

LATAM’s Business Class is on a 2-2-2 configuration on the Dreamliner. Look at all this bedding!

My view:

The amenities bag won’t provide much other than a pair of airplane socks, eye mask, toothbrush, and ear plugs:

But the food was great:

BTW, did you notice in the photo above that I was re-watching Interstellar as I was waiting to take off?

First time I’ve put it in in 10 years when it first came out in 2014. Well, this was what was waiting for me when I returned home:

Think on this.

On my flight home from Rapa Nui — a place already steeped in its own mysteries, with the moai standing as timeless sentinels of the unknown — I decided to rewatch Interstellar for the first time in 10 years. Why? Because something about its story of time, love, and the inexplicable synchronicities across space-time resonated deeply with how my own life has always been, let alone has been unfolding more lately.

In the movie, Cooper finds himself inside a tesseract—a multidimensional space where time becomes a physical dimension. Through it, he communicates with his past self and his daughter, Murph, by manipulating gravity and time, guiding them to make choices that ultimately save humanity. At the heart of it all is Murph’s watch, a simple object transformed into a profound bridge across time and space.

As I watched this unfold at 36,000 feet up in the air, I found myself wondering: could this be what explains the serendipities in my life? Is it possible that the future versions of ourselves—or perhaps loved ones we’ve lost, like my father, or those yet to come, like a future child—are reaching back across time to nudge us, to guide us, to say, I’m here with you?

When I landed, still lost in thought about the mechanics of magic and love transcending dimensions, I arrived home to a surprise. Waiting for me was a gift from 33 of my friends and monsooners: the very same Hamilton “Murph” watch designed for Nolan’s film, the watch Cooper gives Murph, the watch that becomes the literal key to connecting across time.

The uncanny precision of this moment left my head spinning. What are the odds? That I’d watch this movie — this story about serendipity and messages from beyond — for the first time in a decade right before receiving this watch? That my friends, unbeknownst to me, had spent weeks orchestrating this exact gift — a watch that encapsulates everything I was just trying to understand?

It wasn’t just a coincidence. It felt like a conversation. A conversation with something or someone greater than myself. Maybe it was my future self, leaving breadcrumbs. Maybe it was my late father, reminding me that I’m never alone. Maybe it was someone or something I’ve yet to meet, reaching across time to let me know: You’re on the right path. Maybe it’s a future me in the tesseract?

The tesseract in Interstellar is a construct of the future, built to connect versions of ourselves across time. Maybe, in a way, we’re all living in our own tesseracts, guided by echoes of those we love, those we’ve lost, and those we’ve yet to know.

This watch, this moment, this story — they’re all part of a mystery I’ll never fully solve. But like Murph in the movie, I’m learning to trust it. To listen. To let it guide me.

To the 33 of you who made this possible: thank you for being part of this incredible story. You’ve given me more than a watch. You’ve given me a bridge, a reminder that love, friendship, and the mysteries of life truly do transcend time and space.

And to everyone else reading this: pay attention to the synchronicities in your life. Maybe they’re just coincidences. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re messages from the tesseract — reminding you that you’re never alone and that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

- At time of posting in Rapa Nui, it was 24 °C - Humidity: 70% | Wind Speed: 29km/hr | Cloud Cover: bipolar; pleasant one minute, then hurricane winds the other minute

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Santia-way We Go!

Calvin Sun — Sun, 01 Dec 2024 23:46:40 +0000

I’ve been to Santiago before 10 years ago, but when looking through my short term memory loss of posts, I realized we never really explored the city! We had skipped over it for Valpariso, so it’s now time to return and do it justice monsoon style.

Arriving at Santiago Airport from an overnight 9 hour flight from Houston, I took an Uber directly to my lodgings at AC Hotel Santiago and settled in.

After changing and a quick shower, I recharged with a legit pourover at Colombian-owned Johnny’s Coffee where I met up with Chris to begin our tour.

Our first official stop was next door at Sky Costanera, a 300m tall glass-walled observation deck at the top of a skyscraper.

Come for a primer of Santiago where this observation deck offers 360º panoramas.

While at the observation deck we met up with Svalbard monsoon alums Alicia and Karthik!

After 20 minutes here, we hailed an UberXL to take us to the other side of the city to visit the Museum of Memory & Human Rights, documenting the human rights violations committed by the military dictatorship here from 1973 to 1990.

The museum is located in the multicultural neighborhood of Yungay.

Plaza Yungay is a popular meeting point, among other evocative residential refuges marked by special architecture in this area like Barrio Concha y Toro:

Deciding against a 40 minute walk from Yungay, we had Chris (who has been in Santiago for 3 days now) show us how to take the metro 3 stops east to La Moneda Palace, home of the President.

It sits right above La Moneda Cultural Center underground, a modern cultural center below street level with rotating art exhibitions, film screenings, dining, and shopping.

From there we took a detour to Chile’s Stock Exchange, known as La Bolsa:

The stock exchange is located in an area named after New York, a la New York Street, home to Latin America’s first skyscraper:

We then rested our weary legs watching a wedding take place in a nearby church.

We then walked 15 minutes east to the Municipal Theatre of Santiago, a legendary long-running neoclassical arts complex built in 1857. This is where you go for high art opera, choir, ballet performances.

If you have it in you, continue walking for a hike up Santa Lucía Hill which is a block away east, which is an urbanized hill and well manicured park featuring terraces, fountains, and a summit viewpoint.

From there you can continue east to Gabriela Mistral Cultural Centre:

This city loves its green; we then weaved up 10 minutes to Parque Forestal, built in 1905.

… and then passed by the National Museum of Fine Arts, located within the park.

After picking up some water and eschewing Saint Lucia Hill, we headed back to the city center where no visit is complete to Santiago (hah, tell that to me 10 years ago) without visiting the central urban square of Plaza de Armas:

It’s marked by the seat of the archbishop of Chile, the Metropolitan Cathedral of Santiago.

It’s then a 6 minute walk up north to the seafood-rich Santiago Central Market:

For local fresh fruits and vegetables, cross both grand avenues to visit Mercado Tirso de Molina:

From the market we then hailed another cab over to the area where La Chascona is located; it’s home to Pablo Neruda from 1955 to 1973, which was built to resemble a ship.

A few blocks over from La Cascona, we then bought the tickets to take us up a funicular at Parque Metropolitano de Santiago.

From the funicular we walked up the hill to the Virgin Mary statue at the park’s peak for city views:

If you peek inside the Virgin Mary Statue:

Afterwards we weaved around for the cable car ride instead of funicular, which was included in our tickets and took us to the eastern entrance of the park (the funicular entrance is located on the southern end).

Once we disembarked at the eastern entrance of the park and facing the Sky Centenario and back to where we started our day, we took one final group photo with Karthik and Alicia before they headed to their hotel to check in. Chris and I headed onwards for more sightseeing.

Chris and I then took a quick Uber ride to the newly built Parque Bicentenario north of Sky Centenario. A serene walk here and dinner nearby could be the best way to finish your tour of Santiago, which is exactly what we did al fresco at Osaka Restaurant.

If we had more time, I would have fit in Cementerio General, a vast cemetery from 1822 where Chile’s historical figures are buried.

… as well as a tour inside at Palacio Cousiño, a fancy residential estate.

Tomorrow we reunite with Jill, KJ, Melinda, YuHan, and Melissa for our 5 days on Easter Island!

- At time of posting in Santiago, Chile, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 37% | Wind Speed: 3km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Meet the Monsooners to Rapa Nui / Easter Island!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 14 Oct 2024 18:07:49 +0000

Enigmatic Rapa Nui and Easter Island awaits us. Welcome back those returning with me for their 2nd, 3rd, or even 4th monsoon:

Melinda “Sunrise Hiker” Kwok, 4 time monsooner returning from Bhutan, Syria, Meteora and South Sudan
Melissa “Look! Pizza!” Weinnman, 3 time monsooner returning from Syria, the Least Visited Countries and the Trans-Mongolian Railway
Yuhan “Chief Barista Officer” Lee: 3 time monsooner returning from Tomorrowland, The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse and The Greek Epic
Jillian “Rebirth” Evalle, 2 time monsooner returning from Syria and Côte d’Ivoire
Samantha Ali: returning from Tomorrowland

Introducing our monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain My Captain" Sun - Expedition Leader | NYC

Melissa "Candy Floss" Weinmann - Return Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Winter '19 (Least Visited Countries), Jan. '17 (The Transmonglian & Tibet), Winter '16 (The Silk Road) | Chicago, Vanuatu | Peace Corps. | Loyola University Chicago

Jillian "Rebirth" K. - Return Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Jan. 23 (Côte d'Ivoire) | Pre-med | NYC

Samantha Ali - Return Monsooner: July '24 (Tomorrowland & Le Tren Bleu) | Nurse Assistant | Florida

Melinda "Mundari Warrior” Kwok - Return Monsooner: Sept. 24 (Bhutan), Sept. '23 (Syria), Jul' 23 (Meteora), Mar '23 (South Sudan) | Engineer | KC Engineering | NYC

YuHan "BesFren" Lee - Return Monsooner: Jul. '24 (Tomorrowland), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | SF

KJ Park - Digital & Data Analytics | NYC

Chris Kumaradjaja - Architect | NYC

Still interested in joining us? More details about the trip can be found here.

And space is still available! Inquire within: calvin[at]monsoondiaries[dot]com.

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Let’s Maldive Into Malé

Calvin Sun — Fri, 27 Sep 2024 14:03:07 +0000

After our 4 days in Bhutan, our respective groups bid farewell at the Paro airport. While most of them would return on a morning 7:10am flight to Kathmandu, only 4 of us — Melinda, Sampson, Sujay and I — paid about $250 extra for an onward flight from Paro to Delhi at 9:40am.

This separation has significance, so take note…

We picked up our tickets at check-in and proceeded through security, which was a breeze. I then headed upstairs to check out the lounges.

Aside from the main business class lounge which inspects your ticket, there are multiple unguarded lounge rooms you can just take for yourself without anyone saying no:

We then proceeded to board, bumping in Letti on the way as she was about to board for her flight to Kolkata.

After an uneventful 2 hour flight and landing at 11:30am, I went through immigrations with my e-visa, scanned my biometrics, and was surprised at how easy everything was getting into India (we’d find out later how the opposite was true). We were then picked up by monsooner and loyal good friend Bhavana outside arrivals, where we got a tour of Delhi through her own eyes as a local.

Melinda having been picked up by another e-cab service she had arranged earlier, the Sardinia 2021 crew of me, Sampson, and Sujay joined Bhavana as we drove directly from Delhi Airport to the ITC Hotel for lunch at Bukhara.

While on the way there this happened:

This keeps happening over and over. I already wasn’t surprised that I’d run into someone here in India; after all it’s pretty expected every time I visit. But what blew my mind was how I last saw Patricia on my Sardinia monsoon trip. And Sampson and Sujay were ALSO on that same Sardinia trip (and that was Sujay’s first monsoon as well!)!

Think about it: of the 24 people from Bhutan who could have joined me onwards to Delhi for this lunch at Bukhara — not even my wife Mel who returned to Kathmandu, or Melinda who did come with us to Delhi but then had to take different pickup at the airport only a few minutes earlier — ALL 3 of us that would finally end up at Bukhara all were on the same trip as Patricia.

And Melinda was supposed to eventually join us at Bukhara after settling into her hotel, but her car broke down on the highway (she’s okay, don’t worry) only 3 minutes away from her accommodations. She was then asked to wait for an hour by her driver as they waited for good Samaritans to come and fix the car, causing her to miss the lunch entirely (Melinda would then join us at Bhavana’s later in the evening). She said she knew she could have hailed an Uber to take her to her lodgings and then Bukhara, but something compelled her to listen to her driver as they waited for the car to be fixed.

I know serendipities can be messy sometimes, but this is a perfectly intricate design at work: a true unexpected Sardinia reunion. An anatomy of a monsoon.

Keep in mind that this Bhutan trip had BEGAN 4 days ago with another run-in with someone from that Sardinia 2021 trip: Raghav, who also happened to be in Kathmandu when we were all there ONLY for one day for a layover.

Like our local Delhi friend Bhavana wanting to take us to Bukhara, Patricia’s local Delhi friend (and also a doctor like me and Sujay!) Tanay Sinha was the one who wanted her to join him for lunch at Bukhara. It’s like parallel universes! Tanay and Patricia had met on a trip to Mongolia a few years back where I had helped refer Patricia to my guide there…it just all keeps coming together.

To be fair, Bukhara is not a random place; many people want to go to Bukhara for their famous bread and lamb cooked in a tandoor oven.

But it’s uncanny that Patricia + Tanay would both had the SAME lunch reservations at the SAME time as Bhavana + Sujay + Sampson + me without knowing we’d be there at the same time. That Tanay, Sujay and I are all doctors.

And when Bhavana found this out, then calling Bukhara to change the number of people on the reservation from 4 to 6 so we could combine, she said Bukhara replied with: “I see you already had requested a table for 6?” WHAT.

After a filling lunch, Bhavana sent me off with her driver to meet a mutual friend named Puja to make sense of all these serendipities where the rest freshened up at Bhavana’s place. After my divinity session with Puja who confirmed something bigger was at play, Bhavana’s driver returned me to her place where we reconvened for dinner…and where I saw a drawing she had bought back in November 2019 reminded me of my hand when I travel.

The camera model, the bracelets, the lens type…all the same! The resemblance and uncanny signs are endless.

i.e. look in the center and my hand from a photo taken …also in November 2019:

I remind you that Bhavana was one of tens of thousands of people around the world — outside of NYC — who followed me during COVID-19. something compelled her to reach out to me to not only meet in person 2 years afterwards, but also come on a monsoon, and then even becoming good friends within the community!

But the analysis had to wait, the sun was setting and both Melinda and Sampson had to leave soon; so we left for a quick city tour around Delhi by car ending with rooftop drinks on top of the Oberoi:

The next morning, instead of heeding Bhavana’s advice to arrive 3 hours early for any flight leaving from DEL, Delhi International Airport, Sujay and I took a chance anyway by arriving an hour and half before our 10:45am Vistara flight to Malé. Usually an hour and half is more than enough at most airports for well-trodden travelers, but for Delhi’s international airport, it’s a dance with the devil.

I already knew well you have to first go through security outside South Asian airports, showing an itinerary and passport before being allowed inside. However, it appears that showing a booked itinerary on your phone with your name on it is no longer enough like the good old days 12 years ago; after waiting our turn in line we were then refused entry outside departures and was told to go down to 10 minutes to the end of Entry Door 1 where I had to ask the Vistara sales kiosk outside to print out my boarding pass.

Once printed, we had to apologize to everyone in line and cut back to the officer where we were first denied to be allowed in, which caused him to fret despite people behind us insisting it was okay. Thanks to Sujay and I working together (which was more Sujay being his charming cool self and I was one step away from considering the waterworks), we were allowed in through the first round of security instead of being told to go to the back again.

Then, as I headed directly to international departures to save Sujay’s spot in line as he went to check in his bag right before check-in closed, Sujay tried to call me 3 times to no avail (I hate it when my notifications are off), so he had to physically find me in line to tell me that my boarding pass (the one that the Vistara sales desk had just printed out for me outside departures) wasn’t enough and I had to go back to the check-in desk inside departures to obtain my actual boarding ticket. So I dropped my bags with Sujay at passports, ran out back to the check-in desk (where check-in was already closed) and luckily got my ticket. Then they told me to “run run!”

So I followed their advice and ran back to passports. Then apologizing to everyone in line again and going through immigrations and into the security screening area, Sujay and I frantically and immediately chose the security spot with the shortest line. We’d unluckily find out later that it would be the elderly and wheelchair access line and that staff had initially tried to turn us away for the longer regular lines if not head to the other side of the security room for the premium economy line. But we had already committed to this one; after being informed that at Delhi Airport security, all wires, chargers, and electronics had to be unpacked (as if they were all laptops or they had no x-ray machine) we already had unloaded our bags before finding out we were on the wrong line. So instead of repacking our stuff and heading to another security line, Sujay and I stuck to this one as our fellow passengers had already allowed us to the front.

However, security was not motivated to speed things along and we ended up waiting for another 10 minutes for our already screened bins and bags on the conveyor belt. Finally we begged staff to move our bins up towards where Sujay and I were waiting so we could repack everything and head to our gates.

Then while walking away I thought I had lost my phone, but quickly found it thanks to my Apple Watch pinging it; it was just thrown to the back of my big bag. Retrieving that and making sure nothing else was missing, Sujay and I saw that our flight showed “Final Call” on the board, so we ran. And we ran. And then as we ran, we found out that our gate, 14B, was located at the extreme end of the other side of the airport, so we ran even harder that our veins pumped battery acid.

After another 15 minutes of running a half marathon with all our luggage, I got to the gate only to find out we didn’t need to panic in the end; the captain and his co-officer was casually walking behind us and directly told Sujay, who was also a few steps behind me, that we both didn’t need to rush at all; “Final Call” happens all the time to motivate passengers to get there earlier than needed just to be safe. There were even a dozen passengers behind us who didn’t seem to mind that the gate was about to close in a few minutes.

Was it a close call? It certainly felt like it. And after 4 hours recuperating in the air, we landed at 2:15pm in the Maldives.

Outside an uneventful arrival, showing our QR code on the IMUGA site 72 hours beforehand, we got stamped in and was picked up by a representative from our lodgings at Sala Boutique Hotel. But surprisingly instead of taking us in a car, he instead helped us hail a cab to Malé. All 4 of us within minutes crossed the Sinamalé Bridge into Malé.

After a generation of taking a ferry to the airport like how they still do in Sierra Leone, this bridge was built only 6 years ago in 2018:

Reaching Sala Boutique Hotel in central Malé, Sujay and I were greeted by the owners and led to our rooms. We then unpacked, settled in and was about to take a walk around Malé when I suddenly craved coffee at a place I had looked up called Meraki Coffee Roasters.

However, it was already 4pm and I felt bad making Sujay wait for my caffeine craving. But as we walked 50 feet away past the coffee shop, Sujay blurted out: “do you wanna get some coffee? I kinda need it.” Music to my ears and more proof we were meant to be here in Malé. So we made our first stop recharging with gourmet versions of caffeine at now one of my favorite coffee shops I’ve ever been to:

After 45 minutes there, we began our walking tour of Malé from the café at Medhu Ziyaaraiy, the tomb of the famous Morocco scholar Abdul Barakat Abu al-Barakat Yusuf al-Barbari, who is said to have introduced Islam to the Maldives in 1153.

It shares the same complex as the President’s Residence. Like, their “White House” is just right there in the middle of a city block.

The President’s House and tomb sits across from the Friday Mosque (Hukuru Miskiy).

Built-in 1656 during the reign of Sultan Ibrahim Iskandar I, the mosque is intricately carved with Arabic writings and ornamental patterns. Non-Muslims are not allowed inside without prior permission but this was not enforced when we visited.

Right to its northwest is the Bandaara Koshi, the headquarters of the Maldives national defense force.

It faces Republic Square, a little park marked by a flagpole with a giant Maldivian flag. This was where the events of February 7, 2012 led to the resignation of the president.

It’s also the gathering point for every political demonstration in Malé, and hence there is a heavy security presence as evidenced by the police headquarters at the Shaheed Hussain Adam Building next door.

If you’re feeling lost, there is an extremely helpful tourist map here, marked with most of the major locations in Malé. My foot points to the next direction.

The Islamic Center – aka the Masjid Al-Sultan Muhammad Thakurufaanu Al-Arzam – sits right by the park. This is Malé’s best-known architectural landmark. This house of worship is the largest mosque in the Maldives, topped with a golden dome and can hold up to 5000 people.

Visitors are welcome if it’s outside prayer hours, but no photographs are allowed inside.

The mosque sits next to the Victory Monument as we entered south into Sultan Park:

Another historic mosque is only a block south within the park, the Kalhuvakaru Miskiy.

It’s immediately north of the National Museum, a cultural museum that was once the Sultan’s palace. It has old photographs, antiquities from Maldives’ Buddhist era during the reign of its Islamic monarchs, three moon rocks, and a faded Maldivian flag that went to the moon.

We then ambled down the northern main road Majeedhee Magu Road west and turned south to the Rasfannu Beach.

Taking in the daily life here on Friday, we walked 2 blocks east to the Ali Rasgefaanu Ziyaaraiy shrine, a mausoleum of a sultan and King Ali who died in resisting the Portuguese naval invasion here.

It also is a place for whomever would like to know how big the island of Malé was before its lagoon was filled up and reclaimed for the current cityscape above sea level.

We then took another 7 minute walk to the most southwest tip of Malé to the Tsunami Monument:

From the monument we then walked a whole mile west to east the entirety of the Malé island on Ameenee Road at the mouth of the Sinamale bridge to reach the Tetrapod Stone (yes it’s a monument to the tetrapod animals that protect Malé island) and Sea Wall Monument.

The monument was also built as a symbol of friendship between Japan and the Maldives.

From there we weaved back at our hotel for dinner, taking a full loop around the entire city of Malé.

Turning in at 10:30pm and getting my first full night of sleep in 3 days (not even the call to prayer from a mosque next door at 4:45am and a sudden monsoon washout cloudburst could keep me awake for long), Sujay and I had a quick breakfast at our extremely hospitable hotel before they sent us off for our flights back home.

Since the car ride from Malé to the airport is now so short thanks to the Sinamale Bridge, Sujay and I had enough time to quickly check out the farther off Priority Pass lounge before check-in.

I then proceeded to my Qatar Airways flight to Doha, staying at the Park Hyatt Doha for less than $140/night.

It’s the little things they do, like leaving these little welcome gifts in your room after you freshen up and while you head out for a meal, for example:

And speaking of meals, their rooftop restaurant views has views on views:

After dinner, you have dessert.

And after dessert, you get a massage deal for <$100 for an hour, and a quick swim + sauna + “the experience” shower before the facilities all close.

The next morning I headed out at 5am with pre-packaged breakfast for my 8am flight to Helsinki. I had earlier redeemed 40,000 American Airlines miles after finding a very random route that got me from Malé to Doha to Helsinki to Brussels to NYC on a combined economy and business class itinerary. I’d say on 4 flights, half on business class for 40,000 miles? Not bad!

Getting to the airport early, I decided to check out not only the Al Mourjan Business Class Lounge again, but also the restaurant facility upstairs (which I didn’t get to see 5 years ago) that were taking a waitlist by the time I arrived.

After 15 minutes of getting coffee and waiting my turn, I finally got to check out upstairs!

It was by then I realized I had left my necklace behind in the pocket of a bathrobe back in the bathroom of where I was staying. I felt crushed to leave something sentimental behind, so I considered leaving my bag at the lounge, heading back out of immigrations, passports, security and doing a roundtrip and trying to make it back in time to pick up my bags and board my flight all within the hour.

But then the universe spoke: get some food first. So I obliged. Like something possessed me. And then boom, I hear “Calvin?” A run-in from the other group we were with in Bhutan! They had headed back to Kathmandu while I went on to Delhi and Maldives. And now we’re reunited here within 72 hours, in Doha! in the restaurant, of this lounge (there are like 12+ in the airport), of the airport, at the same time!

And if that wasn’t enough, my belly suddenly took me to the bathroom, so I dropped off my food quickly to head to a bathroom. However, somehow I didn’t choose to go to the main one…something possessed me to go an off side peanut gallery one where once I arrived, the toilet was occupied.

So I walked back out to wait and then I hear: “Calvin?” It was Martin passing by with food; he’s the co-leader of the other group and whose birthday we celebrated back in Bhutan on the first day of this trip last week!

I’ve therefore decided that these two back to back coincidences within 2 minutes of each other in distinctly separate parts of a very particularly specific area of a 110,000 square foot lounge, the only one out of 12 other lounges in the airport, at the same time, days after we had parted ways to 2 separate countries…was a sign not to retrieve my necklace back at my lodgings in Doha.

So I enjoyed my food and boarded my fight from Doha to Helsinki on Finnair’s new business class product, unique for having a seat so wide there’s no need for any mechanical recline.

The seat is supposed to be so long that instead of pressing a button to recline your seat in a flat position, you just slide down like a bed. But there is a button that you still have to press to lift up a leg rest to make it truly lie flat still:

And et voila: you have a bed!

They provided extra bedding, sheets, impeccable close attentive service with refilling water and drinks, and the food was pretty decent (although not overflowing):

After getting in 2 hours of sleep and lots of work done on the flight, we landed in Helsinki where I passed through security, immigrations into the EU, and barely had a few minutes to peek inside the Finnair Lounge:

It was then my wife Mel, who had gone onto Kathmandu after Bhutan while I went on to Delhi and Malé, texted me saying that her flight from Kathmandu to Doha got delayed, causing her onward flight back to NYC to leave without her. Therefore, she was once again delayed (like she had been when first trying to get to Kathmandu from Doha the week prior) and had to stay in Doha overnight.

That’s when it struck me. Quickly calling my lodgings in Doha to check, they picked up immediately and I asked them to e-mail me if they found a necklace. Within 5 minutes they emailed me saying they found it and asked if anyone could pick it up for me. Within a few hours, she picked it up!

The universe has spoken! Trust the process! Had I rushed out the airport leaving my bags behind just to retrieve the necklace (something I’ve done before, i.e. Mel’s wedding ring while I was at Brussels airport 10 months ago), bad things may have happened.

I then boarded my flight to Brussels a little more relaxed. The food onboard Finnair’s flight from Helsinki to Brussels wasn’t so bad either!

And the flight from Brussels home was pretty eventful other than trying out an Airbnb for the first time!

- At time of posting in Male, it was 26 °C - Humidity: 90% | Wind Speed: 47km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Where Heaven Meets Earth: Scaling the Sacred to Tiger’s Nest

Calvin Sun — Thu, 26 Sep 2024 03:11:24 +0000

We wake up this morning at the Eco Lodge by Paro to a stupendous view from our room. Today is the day we’ve all been waiting for.

Today we achieve a bucket list item for everyone who knows where Bhutan is on the map, and fans of Nolan’s Batman as it was the inspiration for Ra’s Al Ghul’s lair in Batman Begins.

The legend of Tiger’s Nest comes from the monk Padmasmabhava when he transformed one of his concubines into a tigress who flew up to the top of the cliff. After they had each meditated for 3 months they started building the first temple. And then another, until we get the Tiger’s Nest we have today.

To get there today, however, can feel equally legendary for the individual. Although the hike from the parking lot is measured to be only 6km in total distance, it’s also 6km of steep inclines that usually takes 5 hours there and back or even a whole day for some people. As to settle the debate on what footwear is appropriate, I’d say I did just fine with hiking socks and my Doc Marten’s Chelsea slip-on ankle-high boots, but I feel you may fare a tiny bit better with proper trail shoes or hiking boots. I also recommend renting walking sticks as soon as you get there (100 BTN each for one day rentals); they make a huge difference.

If you didn’t get a walking stick from the families renting them at the trailhead and later regret your decision, you can hope to maybe find one along the way. Sameer not only had rented a walking stick, he then found an even better one that he etched “MONSOON” into once we reached Tiger’s Nest.

The trailhead begins immediately at the parking lot. Once you get your bearings, stretch your legs, and pick your walking sticks to be your best friend for the day, take a breath and start climbing 400m to the midpoint.

The trail can get crowded at times due to the shifting expectations and abilities of all the climbers and pilgrims who come here. You also have an option of riding a donkey up instead for the first part, but that’ll take you on a different path to drop you off at the midpoint (where from there it’s still all walking).

It can take even the most agile hiker 45 total minutes of nonstop climbing before you get to the 400m high midpoint (I’d say for most people, give yourself at least an hour of climbing).

Either choose to continue onwards to Tiger’s Nest, or stop at the Taktshang Café here for a cup of coffee by epic mountain views:

We obviously chose to recharge at the café for half an hour.

The café also happens to be where you might get your first glimpse of Tiger’s Nest behind the clouds:

After 30-40 minutes at the café we then continued climbing another 500m upwards to reach the highest viewpoint of Tiger’s Nest:

This sign and a cave monastery next to it bodes that the end of your climb is near:

I was drawn to a closer look to the one here after noticing that the individual born in this cave was born in the Year of the Tiger, like me!

And then, once the clouds part and you reach the viewpoint…

It’s truly majestic. Jaw-dropping. Eye opening. Life affirming. Shot to the top of the charts. I already could feel how my entire life would bring me here for this moment.

The money shot. Click on it to really make out the details.

After the obligatory photos to last us a lifetime, we then climbed 200m back down these steps (that have been carved into the cliffside!). There are about 750 steps total downwards.

Then you cross over a bridge underneath a raging waterfall, literally as if it were from a movie, or… an amusement park based on a movie.

From the other side of the bridge you can either immediately continue onwards to Tiger’s Nest ahead, or take a detour to climb up a separate set of steps again where you’ll be underneath a mini-monastery that represents everything you’ll see inside the main Tiger’s Nest monastery.

Mel and I were immediately drawn to climb up the detour monastery.

And. we. .. are… so glad we did. We felt everything here. My past, my future, and most importantly, the eternity present.

I also surprised myself here. For all my life raised as a Christian, I always had struggled with a gnawing shame or anxiety holding me back whenever I prayed or asked for help from above. I still did it, but there was always this… thing that made me feel awkward and uncomfortable — That same anxiety did not appear here. I immediately prayed and got on my knees here in a way felt effortless, warm, and intuitive. Mel said she felt the same way from me.

I remember when I was standing inside the middle of the Golden Temple in Amritsar where everyone got on their knees around me to pray, paying me — the standing, awkward foreigner — no mind as they carried on with their pilgrimage, I had wanted to feel whatever everyone around me was feeling. I was bearing witness at the time 14 years ago and I knew one day I could maybe, hopefully, understand not just by knowing, but also by feeling. What I may not have known at the time was that I was planting a spiritual seed.

All seeds take their necessary time to water, nurture, grow, and eventually bloom. Today, that very seed has begun to stir from its hibernation.

The monk there blessed me with sacred water after my prayer. I prayed again. And then this powerful, natural, inner force guided me back out to Tiger’s Nest.

The hard part was over. The rest is easy. I looked up at the final set of stairs to take me up to Tiger’s Nest.

Once I arrived, logistics and formalities kicked in: our official Bhutanese tour guides Mohan and Kuenza accompanying us first registered our group as we arrived, after which we were directed to a single large locker to store all our bags, cameras and phones inside. In other words: No bags or cameras are allowed inside the Tiger’s Nest monastery complex, and you’ll be patted down by a Bhutanese government security personnel before being allowed in just for good measure. They even make you leave your walking sticks outside.

Restrooms are around the corner as you ponder this not so difficult decision.

We spent about another 45 minutes inside Tiger’s Nest exploring all the temples within. There are about 7 total, including a butter lamp room, and the true hardcore “Tiger’s Nest” which requires each individual to climb down 3 sets of wooden ladders down into an abyss, aka within a crawlspace cave under the monastery, where there is a site at the end marked by 2 butter lamps (where you can then stop to pray) can fit only one person at a time.

The climb down and back up the tiny cavern can be pretty intense, and feels like it lives on a level beyond simple spelunking. Most people in our group skipped this, whereas Mel, Sujay, Melinda, Sampson and I dived in for this surreal, intense, spiritual experience. Energy carried the day, and after numerous offerings, blessings, drinking sacred water, and just feeling …it… knowing I am exactly where I need to be and to not only trust, live, but also become the process…I let go and I am let go.

Once we began to leave, there was no sorrow or desire to stay longer. You just could feel it knowing your time is spent here and it’s time to live on to the purpose you’re meant to have on this space rock called Earth. We then took one final photo together in an off ramp on the return home down and up again:

A tradition now that Sampson and I have become travel buddies:

Returning is easier but not by much; there’s another 200m ascent before you reach the high point for the last time. And then it’s downhill all the way back to the café where we recharged with their buffet lunch.

After half an hour of eating, Corinna made an announcement she was excited to try archery in Bhutan, which is their national sport. We just had to get down quickly within an hour back to the trailhead by 3pm so the buses could take us there.

Mission accomplished! Returning our walking sticks, we took one final photo of the final group to have returned from Tiger’s Nest.

Driving over to a family-owned farmhouse home to a hot stone bath facility. We waited our turns with a game of archery in their backyard. Nobody hit their targets and after 3 rounds, the group slowly lost interested and peeled off one by one to check if any of the hot stone bath springs were available.

Once they were ready, we saw how they prepared the waters with boiling hot stones placed in a trough outside:

Then you enter by couple, get undressed, and dip in!

There are cold water spigots to adjust the water temperature in case the hot stones have made the water too hot to handle:

After 17,000 steps up and down 6km of mountains, we finally rested our weary legs in the water, each taking about 20-30 minutes before we had enough. After waiting for Ainsley who formidably outlasted us all, we drove into Paro to explore the town and for last minute shopping.

All Sampson and I had interest for was the Bubble Tea shop that served cordyceps (yes, the fungus from Last of Us) melon bubble tea:

After about 40 minutes having our fill of Paro, we hopped back on our bus and returned to our hotel for a cultural dance around the hotel’s backyard bonfire:

And with our 3 days in Bhutan we celebrate not only one but two birthdays, both named Martins’ who never met each other before on this trip!

After cutting a cake and having dessert for dinner, our group began to peel off one by one to begin packing for our early flights home the next morning. We had a big group returning on a 7:10am flight back to Kathmandu, 4 of us (Melinda, Sampson, Sujay, and myself) on a 9:40am flight, and then Letti and her friend on a 10:10am flight to Kolkota.

The adventure continues for some of us on those layovers…

4 days in Bhutan behind us, our respective groups bid farewell at the hotel. While most of them returned on a morning 7:10am flight to Kathmandu, Melinda, Sampson, Sujay and I paid about $250 extra for an onward flight from Paro to Delhi at 9:40am.

We picked up our tickets at check-in and proceeded through security, which was a breeze. I then headed upstairs to check out the lounges.

Aside from the main business class lounge which inspects your ticket, there are multiple unguarded lounge rooms you can just take for yourself without anyone saying no:

We then proceeded to board, bumping in Letti on the way as she was about to board for her flight to Kolkata.

- At time of posting in Paro Taktsang, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 90% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: drizzly morning, clear afternoon

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Let’s get Punakha-d up for an Adventure!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 25 Sep 2024 03:09:05 +0000

Today the 24 of us woke up to a glorious morning in Thimphu:

For our second day in Bhutan we plan to drive from Thimphu, Bhutan’s current capital, to Punakha, the former capital.

After getting in some breakfast and coffee, we repacked our luggage, loaded our buses, and drove 2 hours up to the Dochula/Dochu La Pass:

The Dochu La Pass is a mountain pass marked by 108 memorial chortens/stupas known as “Druk Wangyal Chortens” that have been built by Ashi Dorji Wangmo Wangchuk, the eldest Queen Mother.

The pass is located at an elevation of 3100m or 10,200 ft above sea level. The snowy peaks of the Himalayas can be seen to the east, including Mt. Masanggang at 7194m or 23,602 ft high and Mt. Gangkar Puensum which is the highest peak in Bhutan at an elevation of 7570m or 24,836 ft high.

The weather at the pass generally is always foggy and chilly, where the best views of the Himalayas would be visiting here between October and February.

Nevertheless, we still enjoyed these stunning views of Bhutan Himalayas, especially from their café here:

While on the way to Punakha, our bus stopped at a hill so we could hang up our prayer flags.

It became a fun team-bonding exercise to see how we could connect all 11 of our prayer flags while ensuring no color is repeated in succession, and hang the result somewhere on a hill to get our prayers the highest wind exposure. We got very creative; felt like we were building an electrical grid:

About an hour later in our approach to Punakha, we finally reached the majestic Punakha Dzong “the palace of great happiness or bliss.”

This palace is the administrative centre of the Punakha District and was constructed in 1637-1638 by Ngawang Namgyal, 1st Zhabdrung Rinpoche. It also is the second oldest and second-largest palace (dzong) in Bhutan and one of its most majestic, housing sacred relics of the southern Drukpa Lineage of the Kagyu school of Tibetan Buddhism, including the Rangjung Kharsapani as well as the remains of both Ngawang Namgyal and the tertön Pema Lingpa.

Punakha Dzong was the administrative center and the seat of the Bhutanese executive government until 1955 when the capital was moved to Thimphu.

It is listed as a tentative site in Bhutan’s Tentative List for UNESCO inclusion. To do its entrance justice, you first must cross a photogenic suspension bridge:

After the bridge, we reached a courtyard and stepway up to the temple that reminded me of those in Tibet.

Legend has it that the architect, Zowe Palep envision in a dream where he was ordered by the Zhabdrung to sleep under a small structure that contained a statue of the Buddha, known as Dzong Chug “small dzong.” While still in his dream and encouraged by the psychic powers of the Zhabdrung, he attained a clear vision of a palace for Guru Rinpoche.

This dream and vision now etched into the architect’s mind, he then went ahead to build this palace without any traditional paper planning; it was completed within 2 years in 1638. During this period, Ngawang Namgyal had also become the first leader of a unified Bhutan.

In the first courtyard you’ll find the administrative offices, a large white stupa, a bodhi tree, a mound of stones and a chapel dedicated to the queen of the nāgas.

Don’t know where to stand? Choose wisely.

Reaching to the back of the palace grounds, we entered where the residential quarters of monks are located in the second courtyard. This is also where two historic halls in this courtyard are located — one of Ugyen Wangchuck, who subsequently became the King of Bhutan, and another hall where John Claude White decorated the King in 1905 with the Order of the Knight Commander of the Indian Empire.

At the southernmost end of the dzong and in the third courtyard, the remains of Pema Lingpa, Zhabdrung, and Ngawang Namgyal are preserved. The King of Bhutan and the Je Khenpo mainly to seek blessings here before taking office.

When inside, take note of the life history of Buddha depicted in the back walls, as well as more opportunities to obtain sacred bracelets blessed by the monks here for 100 BTN each.

After an hour on the fortress grounds, we then headed out and walked behind the fortress to walk Bhutan’s longest suspension bridge.

It takes 2 and a half minutes without stopping to walk it in its entirety:

Then walking back across the bridge, we boarded our buses to head to lunch. In case you had a hard time finding it:

After enjoying lunch we noticed that our café sat atop a famous painting shop to buy more souvenirs and a cordyceps fungus (the same one that inspired The Last of Us franchise) edibles shop that I feel only Bhutan is known for.

Our final official stop of the day would be a little 5 inute hike to reach the Chimi Lhakhang (The Temple of Divine Madman), a monastery built in honour of an eccentric lama, Drukpa Kunley.

The monastery was founded and built in 1499 by the Drukpa Kagyu lama Ngawang Chogyal, the 14th abbot of Ralung Monastery, and blessed by Ngawang Chogyal’s cousin, Drukpa Kunley who also built a stupa here.

During his blessings of this site, the Lama Kunley is said to have subdued a demon of Dochu La with his “magic thunderbolt of wisdom” (aka an erect penis) and trapped it in a rock at the location close to where the stupa now exists. Reminescent of The Joker from the Batman series, this “Mad Saint” or “Divine Madman” demon eventually became worshipped here for teaching Buddism through chaos (or what represented chaos at the time). From rejecting social norms, ridiculing establishment principles, questioning authority, crude humor, and engaging in lots and lots of sex, he also advocated the use of phallic symbols as paintings on walls and as flying carved wooden phalluses on houses. Since then symbols of an erect penis in Bhutan have been used to drive away the evil eye and malicious gossip.

The monastery is therefore also home to the original wooden phallus that Kunley brought from Tibet, which is decorated with a silver handle and is used to bless people who visit, particularly women seeking to have children. After we made an offering, we graciously participated in the ancient tradition at the monastery …where visitors are struck on the head with a 10-inch long wooden phallus/erect penis. I dare say, more nontraditional things have happened in my life.

The views outside from this monastery are also equally fertile:

Then we turned back around to drive west to Paro, stopping once midway our 4 hour long and sleepy ride back at the Dochula Pass, which is also hauntingly beautiful at night:

- At time of posting in Punakha, it was 22 °C - Humidity: 100% | Wind Speed: 2km/hr | Cloud Cover: when it's dark, it rains

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Almost Got the Bhut-an!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 23 Sep 2024 20:39:39 +0000

Upon an invitation by Letti’s friends after our West Africa trip together, I happily accepted and asked for permission if I could also invite a few monsooners if they’d be interested. As I learned about the process, it came at no surprise that the government of Bhutan highly regulates the tourism industry to make it sustainable as to not overwhelm the tiny hermit kingdom.

Regulation meant that we had to follow along a government approved tour agency to handle everything as a package including the visas, the international flights to and from their airport in Paro, the lodgings, sights, and everything in between. Although it’s not like North Korea where crossing the street would be considered a big deal, it’s enough to feel like big brother might be watching over you. At least a kinder big brother than the one you’d expect from North Korea.

The only thing we needed to do was to arrive into Kathmandu to begin our trip, with an optional flight from Paro to end it in another city like Delhi.

Transferring 90,000 miles from Chase to AirCanda’s Aeroplan program, I was able to find a first class redemption from Toronto to Delhi. It was a close call as a few weeks later, I was invited to give the keynote at the White Coat Ceremony back at my alma mater only hours before my 8:30pm flight from LGA to YYZ in Toronto.

And I made it, with even time to spare at both the Amex Centurion and Chase Sapphire Lounge.

While in Toronto, I then spent time at both Maple Leaf until it closed at 11pm, and then the Premium Plaza Lounge until 12:30am, after which I headed over to board my flight at around 12:35am for a 01:15am flight, approximately 40 minutes before departure and 20 minutes before the gate would be closed. But then at the gate, I learned I was downgraded to economy from first class, and then was denied boarding anyway with my new seat, when gate agents soon found out to their surprise that the doors had already closed and the plane finalized with the take off pushed earlier than scheduled.

The Air India staff agents at the gate then tried to reverse the finalization for me to board, and then using me an excuse to change their minds only after the fact as they yelled on the phone “tell them the customer is standing here waiting to board and we don’t have a reason to deny him boarding!” …but they were unsuccessful in getting me on the flight even though finalization was not yet confirmed. One of the older agents, Radha, then had stayed with me to find alternative flights, after which there was none available due to the late time of night when we tried to contact the Air Canada office.

While she offered to book me a hotel and call me at 9am when the Air Canada reservations office opened, I opted to not risk missing my onward flights to Bhutan. Therefore at her suggestion, I booked an alternative Emirates itinerary on Economy that took me from Toronto to Montreal to Dubai to Kathmandu and transferred 70,000 miles from my Amex Membership Rewards account to upgrade to business class on the crucially long 11 hour flight from Montreal to Dubai. Once that was settled, Radha walked me out of customs at 4:30am to stamp into Canada and went to her office to offer me a $20 food voucher, which unfortunately, was not accepted by any food kiosks as they could only accept Air Canada vouchers.

But at this point I was so resigned I had no more bandwidth to complain; I was just happy to board another flight to get me closer to my destination.

As 5am was far too early for anything to be open other than a lonely Subways’ kiosk, I waited at the gate trying not to fall asleep. I eventually boarded the 6:30am flight from Toronto to Montreal, passing out after my unexpected all-nighter.

Once I landed and woke up in Montreal at 7:30am, I retraced my steps from the time I was last here only 2 months prior when I was returning from Tomorrowland and was able to see Montreal’s airport from the international side. This meant I could access its name brand lounges with my business class upgrade on Emirates; while AirFrance’s lounge provided sunlight and yogurt (but denied any showers for non-Air France passengers), the Air Canada Maple Leaf lounge was able to offer a shower room for me to recuperate and speak to the Air Canada Customer Service what had happened the night before.

Afterwards, this time not wanting to risk missing another flight, I headed to the gate early to board my first time flying Emirates Business Class since a free upgrade I got in 2016:

The cabin feels so wide and large, I felt like I walked into a conference room.

Their complimentary Bulgari amenities bag has improved, including even way more stuff than what I had last remembered.

They even now offer super silky smooth pajamas AND comforter blanket to keep!

And their legendary on-board lamb biriyani has not yet failed to impress:

Once arriving into Dubai, I boarded the super long F gate shuttle to Dubai’s forgotten peanut gallery Terminal 2, where I barely almost missed my flight while eating at their Priority Pass business lounge. But NOT TODAY! I then boarded the FlyDubai’s direct Dubai to Kathmandu flight which I then realized was the exact same one I had flown 13 years ago with Stephanie in my first visit to Kathmandu. Did I just go through all that drama last night with Air India for the universe to remind me “Yo. Stick to the script: it’s always going to be full circle with you buddy.”

Once landing at Kathmandu, I took out money from the ATM next to the visas on arrival counter, paid for the $30 VOA that I had pre-reserved online, got stamped in, waded through customs, and used the InDrive app to find a ride-share taxi to my lodgings where Mel and Sujay had been waiting for me. They had arrived a few hours earlier also with a little drama; although Mel arrived to Doha from NYC on time, her onward midnight flight to Kathmandu had similarly and inexplicably departed without her and a few others (one of named Maria whom she made friends with!), so they were rebooked to a nice hotel to nap and a morning flight to Kathmandu.

After 3 attempts trying to find a taxi on InDrive, all of which seemed to be unable to drive into the airport property, I decided to walk out of the Kathmandu airport and hail one instead at a bus stop outside the terminal, which finally worked. My ride then took me to the Hilton Kathmandu, which had opened only last month. Wildly I was able to book it on Hilton.com for less than $100 a night!

At check-in, they hand out bracelets according to the day and accompanying elemental sign. So when at check out I told them I was a water sign and would like a water sign bracelet, everyone chimed in on how they too somehow knew that we were all Scorpios. Scorpios unite!

After settling in and falling asleep accidentally during my massage at the rooftop of the hotel, Mel and I scrambled to meet everyone for dinner that I had planned for 6:30pm at Bagaan Thakali Kitchen right outside the popular Thamel district.

And while I was waiting to depart to Kathmandu back in Dubai a few hours earlier, I was scrolling on my instagram and discovered Raghav (whom we met back in Sardinia) also happened in Kathmandu on the very same night that we were! Mel also had made that friend named Maria (who lives in NYC!) while their Qatar Airways flight to Kathmandu was getting rebooked. Inviting them both to dinner, Raghav and Maria found out they were both heading to Everest Base Camp at the same time! Who knows where the nexus of these random souls will lead to in the future…

After dinner where all the monsooners + friends got to know one another, we walked around Thamel for dessert and said our goodbyes to Raghav and Maria.

The rest of the group turned in and reunited the next morning at 7:30am back at the airport at Kathmandu. Even though some of us checked in, we had to still head to the counter to show them our e-visas for our flight tickets. Once going through passports, we were immediately yelled at by representatives outside to choose between the two lounges that were right next to each other after passports. I thought someone had dropped something.

After splitting my time between both lounges with Corinna + Ainsley + Sameer at Horizon downstairs, and Melinda + Sampson + Sujay + Mel at Executive upstairs, we reconvened at 8:20am when our group was called overhead to go through security. We then crossed security and boarded our 9:10am flight from KTM to Paro on the national carrier, Drukair.

While on the bus from the gate to the plane, my group of 10 met with Nolan & Martin’s group of 14 to make it a final group count of 24!

When flying from Nepal to Bhutan, make sure you sit on the left side for direct views of the Himalayas and Everest —

We arrived into Paro International Airport an hour and 5 minutes later at 10:30am local time.

I gotta call it early — the award for the most beautiful passports checkpoint goes to Bhutan:

Have your printed e-visas out for them to physically take and stamp you in return:

After stamping into Bhutan, we did our various means of money collection at baggage claims. The local currency, the Bhutanese Ngultrum or BTN, is pegged 1:1 to the value of the Indian rupee.

They also have the most beautiful arrivals kiss & fly!

Our local guides of Raven Tours and Treks, Mohan and Kuenza, picked us up outside with 2 buses for our group with welcome sashes:

After loading our buses and en route from the airport, Mel already expressed her love for Bhutan as we learned about the history and culture from our guide Kuenza. We then first stopped at Tamchog Lhakhang, a temple and suspension bridge dedicated to 14th century saint and engineer Thangtong Gyalpo.

You can cross the bridge, but at the moment, cannot enter the temple as it remains privately owned.

After crossing the bridge we had our first of many encounters with prayer wheels, flags, stupas, etc where we got a crash course into Bhutanese Buddhism worship and culture.

Across the Paro River here you can see 3 types of stupas: Tibetan, Nepalese, and Bhutanese:

Then continuing on our way to Thumphu and to the delight of the group, we stopped at the Gagyel Lhundrup Weaving Center to begin the souvenir shopping early.

I came for the views as my souvenir “window shopping” (quite literally):

Others were drawn to different kinds of souvenirs of memory:

Next stop: big group buffet lunch with suja (butter tea), pumpkin soup, fried eggplant (my favorite), momos, and boiled vegetables.

After lunch and approaching the capital city of Thimphu, we made a stop at Memorial Chorten, a stupa built to in the memory of the 3rd king. This stupa is unlike others in Bhutan in that it does not have human remains.

Not even a rainstorm could stop us, nor the gorgeous views:

You can take off your shoes and enter inside the stupa to explore the 3 floors here.

As the rain cleared and we climbed back down navigating countless rivers of rain puddles. we drove up to the immense Great Buddha Dordenma, an enormous statue of Shakyamuni Buddha located on a hilltop near Thimphu.

With views like this, Buddha can meditate from here for eternity without a problem:

We then headed inside to conduct prayers and receive bracelets based on our lunar horoscope birth year (for 100 BTN each):

Returning outside, we wandered among the prayer ceremonies that were taking place here. I then found out we had arrived on a national holiday — Blessed Rainy Day — where families gather for picnics to celebrate the end of monsoon season, clearer weather and a bountiful harvest season ahead.

With time escaping us, we then stopped at the Motithang Takin Preserve, a wildlife reserve for Takin and the national animal of Bhutan.

We then ended our day with a overlook of the majestic Tashichhoedzong Palace, a Buddhist monastery and fortress north of Thimphu.

We’re now spending the night here at Tower Thimphu Hotel, centrally located in the capital city of Thimphu, where we’d find out it takes only 10 minutes to walk it in its entirety.

During our half an hour walk, we found their knockoff version of 7-Eleven and stopped a domestic violence dispute simply with our random presence as foreigners alone. The assailant got intimidated and stopped what he was planning to do midway, the girl got away safely, and I wonder whether our “random” visit to Bhutan here of all days would be so random at all. At this point, and in a place like Bhutan, nothing is truly random..

To confirm this belief, we’d found out once returning to our hotel for dinner, that we’d be celebrating not only one but TWO birthdays on this short 72 hour trip…and BOTH of them are named Martins, each one from a different group (Martin Christian from the other group and Ainsley Martin from my group) who prior did not know each other until we combined them for this trip!

Tomorrow; Punakha!

- At time of posting in Thimphu, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 98% | Wind Speed: 3km/hr | Cloud Cover: rainy mornings, clear and hot afternoons

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This Is My Med School White Coat Ceremony Speech

Calvin Sun — Sat, 21 Sep 2024 03:48:50 +0000

Just today I gave the keynote speech at the White Coat Ceremony of the very same medical school that had let me graduate 10 years ago. 10 years ago when I also gave a similar (but far shorter) keynote speech that could only at best guess what would happen in 10 years.

So today I return to the scene of the crime where I began the concept of monsooning and proof that as long as you trust, live, and become the process, privileges like these reveal you are exactly where you need to be.

Thank you Mel Jeng, Paul Woo, Justin Ng, Natalie Hearty, Lauren Zhao, and Bianca Fulgencio for helping me perfect a speech of a career and a lifetime.

PRESS RELEASES

Press Release Sept 25, 2024: SUNY Downstate College of Medicine Hosts Its 30th Annual White Coat Ceremony

Press Release Oct 1, 2024: White Coat Ceremony Celebrates 30 Years at Downstate

VIDEO TRANSCRIPT

Session I
2024 White Coat Ceremony Presenting the Class of 2028 – 1:00pm Ceremony
Intro at 14:21, Speech at 18:43

Session II

2024 White Coat Ceremony Presenting the Class of 2028 – 3:00pm Ceremony
Intro at 14:43, Speech at 19:10

SUNY Downstate Health Sciences University, Alumni Auditorium

Friday, September 20, 2024

1:00 PM and 3:00PM EST

SUNY Downstate College of Medicine White Coat Ceremony, September 20, 2024.

Dr. Riley, Dr. Brunicardi, Dr. Putman, esteemed faculty, professors, loved ones, and Downstate for taking a chance on me, and most importantly, future doctors — thank you for allowing me to share this deeply personal moment with all you. Standing here feels surreal. Reflecting briefly on my own unexpected journey into medicine — a path I almost didn’t take — it’s hard to believe I’m here. Especially the professors here who still remember me. Are you surprised I made it this far? (Because I am!)

Some of you who have followed my blog over the past 14 years may know the story, but for those who don’t: I didn’t initially want to become a doctor. My father did. But in the summer of 2006, between my sophomore and junior year of college, he died from a sudden heart attack. In my grief, I took this loss very personally as a sign that medicine wasn’t for me. I was free to choose another path. But curiosity into serendipity and intuition eventually pulled me back.

3 years later, I took a different look and a leap of faith. And it was thanks to Downstate for believing in more than I could believe in myself – where it was only after my father’s death did I truly understand what it meant to follow this calling—and more importantly, to do so on my own terms.

My journey, much like the art of medicine itself, has been unpredictable, challenging, and transformative. As the saying goes: “It’s less about the destination, it’s the journey.” But there’s a difference between knowing those words. And living them.

(continued below)

As the graduating class president 10 years ago, I shared with my class, from a podium just like this at Carnegie Hall, that medicine should be approached as an art, not just a science. I return today with the experience to reaffirm that. The experience that your best decisions won’t come just from textbooks – but from a deep understanding between you and your patient, rooted in continuous learning to trust yourself and your own unique gifts of practice.

I remember – in my third year of medical school, at the bottom of the clinical totem pole, a patient was rushed in for a stroke code. He appeared confused, incoherent. The team suspected a bleed or clot in his brain had impaired his speech. Amid the chaos, with my limited clinical experience – but maybe some lived intuition – I asked him in a different language if he spoke English. He immediately responded in full, clear sentences. (He simply didn’t speak English.)

Carry this with you as you don your white coat today. Medicine is about science — yes, A LOT of science — but it’s also about complexities of a human condition that you will decipher from a combination of your compassion, curiosity, and lived experience… Using all the avenues at your disposal to interpret the stories behind the symptoms, the fears beneath a diagnosis, and the hope that every patient carries when they see you.

And how do you recognize those hopes and fears? By being attuned to your own.

Some of these hopes and fears you will have experienced by the virtue of your next few years here. I remember mid-exam up in Carrell 5G, where, fearfully, I counted question-by-question how many I needed to get right to pass that unit by the skin of my teeth. By the nature of my standing here now, hope saved the day. I’m still here.

So when you feel overwhelmed in the next 4 or 7 or 8 years, remind yourself that you’re training, not performing. Setbacks are inevitable but they do not define your worth. In those moments, take that break and remind yourself not just what you’re studying, but also what for.

The art is in the why. Your why.

Living this art will take a lifetime of practice, but none of us signed up for this because it was easy. We have, and will, over our lifetimes, rise to the occasion and you will surprise yourself.

And it’s perfectly okay to ask. for. help. Even if help is just a reminder of the obvious. A week before taking my Step 1, I asked Dean Terracina what would happen if things didn’t go my way. She replied:

“Why worry about something that hasn’t happened yet, or ever?”

You will experience dark times. You may question whether you belong to the profession. But take it from me — you are more than a number on an exam or a note in a chart. Our patients aren’t defined by their numbers, and neither are you. Give yourself that same grace and compassion. When you begin to doubt yourself, reconnect with your purpose – step back to see that. This practice of reminding yourself, over and over, why you’re here will become habit — a way of seeing the world that goes beyond merely symptoms and into the whys with which someone has become your patient. The societal injustices. The structural failures that brought them to your care.

Let’s together, from today onwards, carry them from sick care into health care. From reactive to preventive care. And if you can do that for them, you can do that for yourself. And sometimes that step away to reconnect with your purpose can be unexpected, maybe even wild.

I’ll let you in on a little secret (…ok not really a secret, it’s on my blog):

During my first year at Downstate, I hit a breaking point. Only 4 months into my first year mid-December 2010, I was cramming for my first unit exam. The exam was about a week away but I was burnt out, stressed, I needed a breather. I remember it was a Wednesday and during one of my ‘study freakout’ breaks, I happened upon $300 roundtrip last minute flights including stopovers in both Vancouver and Hong Kong and back. Now, with my exam only 4 days after I’d get back, common sense told me to close that tab and keep studying. Instead, I followed my gut to book that trip.

After a Med Council meeting here the next day, which was a Thursday night, I took a cab right after it ended at 8pm, boarded the 11pm flight, studied as much as I could on the flight, spent 20 hours in a city I didn’t expect to be in, returned Sunday and continued study on the flight, and took my Genes 2 Cells exam just 4 days later, which thankfully, I passed.

Looking back, I realized I had retained the material better because I was in an entirely different headspace, a different environment. There’s actually science to recalling information better if you vary up the environments where you study, or taking “productive breaks” instead of scrolling on a phone or watching TV. That trip still reminds me of what’s possible, even in medical school. It taught me how important it is to honor your own ways of coping, of balancing intense demands, with these moments of pure adventure.

Now, I’m not recommending everyone here to fly across the world right before an exam. But I share this story to let you know that it is possible. You can still have lived, valuable experiences that make you feel alive while balancing your medical career. That trip was just the beginning, and it’s a principle I’ve honored ever since, about once a month for the past 14 years, or the fact that just 3 hours after this speech, I’ll be on flights to Nepal, India and Bhutan for my next Monsoon Diaries trip.

Gosh now realizing how naughty I was as a medical student and what I got away with, and if I could have the time and space to say this to each and every one of you, face to face: You’ve worked so hard to get here. You’ve earned this. Every single one of you belongs here, more than I ever did.

I wish someone had told me that. As someone who was ranked in the bottom 50% of my class for all 4 years, I have struggled with imposter syndrome throughout medical school, even as class president. Even right now, giving this speech, I still question myself.

But it’s not just about getting through it. It’s about growing through it. It took me 2 years into residency before I even began to feel like I could belong, and 2 years after residency to finally feel like I did belong. Ironically that’s when the COVID-19 pandemic hit, which became a defining moment in my career. Working on the frontlines was both terrifying and humbling, yet it confirmed for me why I chose this path. Why I stayed on this path.

The resilience, the courage, the leadership, the compassion you will develop here will matter. Especially when the world seems to be falling apart around you.

At the height of the pandemic, before there was a cure, vaccine, or let alone a plan and everything seemed hopeless, we all still showed up to work. We rose to the occasion. We surprised ourselves. Not because we knew how to cure any illness, but because we were called to be with patients when they needed us the most. Those moments matter. Regardless of how correct you may be in your diagnosis or treatment plans, your patients will always remember – will always value – how you supported and stayed with them in their most vulnerable of moments.

Your patient will appreciate better when your kindness is authentic. Where a doctor not only knows how to practice medicine, but also kindness unto themselves and to those around them. We all must do well, but more importantly – we all must do good.

So, prioritize not just your studies but also – your friends outside of medical school. Your future friends in this room. Help each other. Support one another. Look around, these are your colleagues for life. Never postpone your opportunities for friendship and joy. You cannot pour from an empty cup. Do something non-medicine every day. Schedule the fun things first. Prioritize your joy. And I guarantee the studying in between will work out, feel more efficient, and dare I say, even enjoyable.

Make sure you won’t look back regretting not having lived.

Take that from me where, just a few months ago, the doctor became the patient. Without barely any symptoms, risk factors, family history, I redirected gestalt onto myself and advocated for a screening that led to the random discovery of a mass in my right kidney. Within a week, I made the hard decision to have part of my kidney removed. I remember walking into the operating room not knowing what to expect, but oddly feeling no sadness or fear; simply, pure gratitude I had already lived a full life ten times over even if things were to go wrong.

Why worry about something that hasn’t happened, yet, or ever?

And when I woke up 3 hours later, my surgeon explained that mid-surgery he had, on his own gestalt, against the intended plan, removed the entire kidney rather than just the mass. That was not the plan. But a week later, we learned that the mass was indeed cancer and had features suggesting extremely malignant potential. Thankfully, the tumor was caught at its earliest stage. 1A. Negative surgical margins. It was the right move.

And he in turn, said over the phone — and this is only 2 months ago: ”I don’t know what possessed you to get that screening, but you just saved your own life.” Cancer free. I can’t explain it. Not anxiety, but rather a gestalt/an intuition built from the clinical knowledge and foundations of what I’ve learned here at Downstate combined with the experience of living a life beyond the textbook. So when my gestalt/gut/intuition also tells me to say, whether to a patient or to myself or to you right here in this room, “Live now,” I really mean it. Never take for granted this short time we have on this planet. Live now.

Life, much like medicine, will always be full of surprises. I never anticipated that during medical school, my journey would also take me to over 150 countries during that same time as a travel blogger. Or that I’d become an unexpected advocate during a global pandemic. I certainly didn’t imagine beating cancer before I even knew I had it. And just four months ago, politics chose me where I was approached to run for citywide office. Specifically, as New York’s next Public Advocate, a role second only to the mayor, to hold city government accountable.

But it’s not about politics, it’s about health: To tackle the injustices and structural failures that bring the vast majority of our patients to our emergency rooms, even before a pandemic. To resolve the food insecurity, housing shortages, unaffordability, public safety, all the mental and physical crises so many New Yorkers are experiencing. These social determinants of health are all that we as doctors are obligated to tackle with the same urgency in an emergency room, just this time on a city-wide scale. As Public Advocate, instead of treating emergencies, I want to prevent them from happening in the first place.

This life I’ve lived, these stories I’ve told, may seem like a life of pure luck – but isn’t luck just preparation plus opportunity? Work hard, prepare yourselves, be present, and when you get invited to something, show up. The mantra that got me through from clinicals to during the pandemic was “Showing up is half the battle.” – Put yourselves in your best positions to make your choice when your opportunities present themselves.

A choice manifested when I no longer felt my father’s pressure to become a doctor, when I realized the freedom to choose and confirm a life of medicine. A decade long choice where it’s been less about what you become (whether it’s a doctor or not), and more how you become it.

My question to you, to return to again and again, what story do you want to tell?

In just a few minutes, you will put on your white coats. These coats… are not just symbols of a profession, but a promise — to your patients, to your community, and to yourself. They are a promise to remain compassionate and ethical. A promise that in difficult times, you will choose curiosity over judgment.

What you will embark on is not just a profession — but a lifelong commitment to heal, to comfort, to accompany, to recognize, and to make a difference in the lives of others. Your journey, like mine, will be filled with surprises. But if you stay present, curious and true to the art inherent in life and medicine, your every twist and turn will lead you to where you’re meant to be.

Thank you. Congratulations on arriving at your destination. So now, welcome to the most special of journeys. Thank you.

Just like old times here at Downstate.

- At time of posting in SUNY Downstate Medical Center, it was 19 °C - Humidity: 85% | Wind Speed: 18km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and nostalgic

The post This Is My Med School White Coat Ceremony Speech appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet The Happiest People Going to Bhutan!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 02 Sep 2024 23:00:08 +0000

Let’s go to the Land of Happiness and the onetime hermit kingdom of Bhutan! Welcome back those returning with me for their 2nd, 5th, or even 7th monsoon:

Sujay “Chief Siesta Officer” Sheth: 7 time monsooner returning from Tomorrowland, The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse, The Greek Epic, South Korea, Svalbard, Vancouver and Sardinia
Sampson “Puffin Sniper” Lau, 6 time monsooner to Syria, Svalbard, Australia, The Pacific Coast Highway, Vancouver, and Sardinia!
Ainsley “Jasmine Flower” Martin, 4 time monsooner returning from The Dolomites, The Canary Islands, South Korea and The Faroe Islands
Melinda “Sunrise Hiker” Kwok, 3 time monsooner returning from Syria, Meteora and South Sudan
Mel “Monsooner” Jeng, 2 time monsooner returning from Crete and Le Tren Bleu
Letti Hale: 2 time monsooner returning from almost Libya and The Gulf of Guinea
Corinna Algranti: returning from Libya

Once again, I introduce our monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain My Captain" Sun - Expedition Leader | NYC

Sampson "Apalca" Lau - Return Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica), Winter '17 (Australia) | Mountain View, CA | Engineer

Melinda "Mundari Warrior” Kwok - Return Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Jul' 23 (Meteora), Mar '23 (South Sudan) | Engineer | KC Engineering | NYC

Letti Hale - Return Monsooner: Apr. '24 (Tunisia), Winter '23 (The Gulf of Guinea) | Dentist | Las Vegas

Jennifer S. - RN | Chicago

Sabrina F. - Return Monsooner: Nov. '23 (Canary Islands) | Toronto

Sujay "Dispensary" Sheth - Return Monsooner: Jul. '24 (Tomorrowland), Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '23 (South Korea & Jeju), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Feb. '22 (Whistler), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica) | Radiologist | Chicago

Mel "The Wifey" Jeng - Return Monsooner: Jul. '24 (Le Tren Bleu), Jul. '23 (Crete) | NYC

Corinna A. - Return Monsooner: Apr. '24 (Libya) | Alexa Capital | London, UK

Ainsley Martin - Return Monsooner: Jul. '24 (The Dolomites), Nov. '23 (Canary Islands), Mar. '23 (South Korea), Aug. '22 (Faroe Islands) | Speech-Language Pathologist | Syracuse, NY

Sameer Kazi - Return Monsooner: Dec. '22 (Senegal, The Gambia, and Guinea-Bissau) | London, UK

Still interested in joining us? More details about the trip can be found here.

And space is still available! Inquire within: calvin[at]monsoondiaries[dot]com.

The post Meet The Happiest People Going to Bhutan! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

American Samoa: You Have To Pago Pago To See Where They Day Ends

Calvin Sun — Fri, 30 Aug 2024 05:43:29 +0000

From an exhausting full day in proper Samoa, we had breakfast at our hotel, a quick morning tour of Apia afterwards, and drove over to the local sorta-international (but definitely not the main one) Fagalii Airport outside of Apia for our 10:30 Samoa Airways flight-aka-time machine.

When you check into this airport, they also weigh you with your carry-on to make sure you can meet weight restrictions for the smaller planes here:

Once you make weight they write you your boarding pass up like this:

Then you walk through a small security room that consists of the type of metal detector and bag x-ray you’d see at the front of nice hotels and government buildings. Then you open a door to a basic departures lounge:

We boarded promptly at 10:20am:

I had said time machine earlier because although the flight is only 35 minutes, it takes you across the international date line. Notice the dates of the departures (left) card and the arrivals (right) card:

That means although we departed at August 30th in Samoa, those 35 minutes in the air arrives us on August 29th in the American Samoa. Therefore we’re repeating August 29th TWICE!

Instead of telling, I’ll just show you — This is what my phone showed on takeoff:

This is during the 30 minute flight:

This is upon landing:

Get it now? A double Thursday! Groundhog Day is real! And once landing, we took advantage of being USA passport holders to enjoy the free access we had to these islands, being that they were property of the US government.

We were stamped back into the USA pretty quickly.

After customs and at arrivals we were picked up by Lu of Tour American Samoa.

Too early for checking in at our lodgings at Tradewinds Hotel, we drove to south of the village of Vaitogi for a geographic feature off the southern coast known as the Turtle and Shark.

A U-shaped cove set between Vaitogi Beach to the north and a basalt cliff to the south, the topography here is frequently assaulted by high-energy waves, with spray thrown high into the air through some of its blowholes:

The cove is believed by the Samoan populace to be the location of the climactic scene of the Turtle and Shark legend, one of the island’s best-known and popular tales.

A story is told of a woman and her child, who in a time of great scarcity were neglected by the family. One day they cooked some wild yams, but never offered her a share. She was vexed, asked the child to follow her, and when they reached a precipice on the rocky coast, seized the child and jumped over. It is said they were changed into turtles, and afterwards came in that form at the call of the people of the village.

We then drove up high to the Aoloau Overlook, the highest village settlement and where you can see all of American Samoa:

Afterwards we swerved around these beautiful rock formations, the first of which is Fatu Rock, a natural landmark and offshore islet of American Samoa. Notice the shameless political campaign advertisement they built on top of the islet on the right:

This rock is said to resemble that of a swimming 2-humped camel:

We then reached the main town and capital, Pago Pago, which means ‘harbour.’

We parked up on a hill for a sandwich lunch with a view:

Craving something to drink after, Lu took us for a private seating at Tisa’s Barefoot Bar for locally made and fresh piña coladas. This site is also famous for an international Samoan tattoo gathering.

After 45 minutes enjoying our time looking at the sharks and fish underneath, we then drove up into the National Park of the American Samoa and for a view of the island’s highest peak, the “Rainmaker.”

We stopped for an easy half-mile hike down to an opening and freshwater natural swimming pool below.

The tides can get up high here if you’re not careful; don’t get swept away!

After returning from our hike with a little bit of sweat we earned along the way, we stopped for some snacks at a Chinese-owned shop nearby in the national park and drove back to check into our lodgings at Tradewinds. Don’t miss the industrial mascot on the way:

The gym at Tradewinds needs a bench:

After checking in, we walked 7 minutes over for one final formal dinner together at Cecilia’s, at the edge of the world and time itself. Watch out for stray biting dogs on the way!

Go to Cecilia’s for the most massive poké nachos and combo platter I will never ever forget:

The next morning we woke up for breakfast at our hotel, which was briefly interrupted when I had to get on customer service with Expedia’s virtual chat agent Jessa when I found out that Tradewinds double charged me for Stephanie’s room. Surprisingly Expedia managed to resolve it within 10 minutes by giving the manager a call herself and agreeing to refund me.

Apparently when you book through Expedia, they pay the hotel through a “virtual card” on my behalf. There was no “virtual card” sent for Stephanie’s room, and hence the confusion.

After resolving this, Lu then picked us up just in time at 8:30am for a drive into the Western District of Tutuila Island. We first stopped at the locally loved Pritchard’s Bakery for the best baked goods and doughnuts on the island.

Along our drive west we passed the Leone Healing Garden which pays tribute to those who lost their lives in the village of Leone during the 2099 tsunami:

…a felled banyan tree that has recently retaken its roots and now is regrowing today:

The tree is near John Williams’ Church, which is the oldest church in American Samoa.

Don’t confuse it for the other church across the street which in our opinion, looks much older:

There’s also a fun little rock perch you can climb up if you dare. The winds were blowing very hard here so it was a little dicey getting up without falling over, but “I ain’t neva scurrred.”

Proof I climbed it, if one ever really needed any:

We then weaved around Cape Taputapu, an important site in Samoan legends and marking the westernmost point of American Samoa:

This region and “the end of the road” is the last place on earth to see the day end.

You are literally facing the invisible international date line from here.

Take a little longer here to stare at the edge of time and earth.

Once we had our fill of the extreme end of the world, we turned back and passed by a few bunkers left over from WW2 on the side of the road:

Lu then stopped back at our hotel so Stephanie Liu could run for a pee break, and then made our second to last stop at the Turtle and Shark café so they could do last minute souvenir shopping:

Lu then finally dropped us off for our 11:20am Samoan Airways flight, aka time machine, back across the international date line.

After getting weighed and checked in at the departures lounge above, you then perform immigrations before entering departures.

Even more surprising since we’re on U.S. territory, this probably is the only airport and flight I ever took that skipped security. Even the very same flight to American Samoa from Samoa proper performed x-rays and security on us yesterday.

For this direction and 35 minute flight, leaving on August 30th Pago Pago time would send us flying forward back to August 31st Apia time within 35 minutes.

Be careful when booking flights and hotels considering the date line as you could really screw yourself over getting the wrong dates (which happened to me and I had to pay a $30/ticket change fee to sort it all out).

So if you’re leaving at 11:20am on August 30th, the 35 minute flight will still have you land at 11:55am but crossing the date line will jump you to the next day on August 31st.

Once arriving at Fagaliʻi Airport, Chris picked us up for curtailed mini tour of Samoa before dropping us off at Faleolo International (APW) Airport for our 4:55pm onward flight to Nadi.

Since we still had 5 hours in between our arrival from American Samoa and our onward flight out to Fiji for our international flights back home, he ensured us a necessary visit to Fugalei Market, the biggest in Samoa where locals sell locally made products for souvenirs as well as their fresh produce.

Next door is a “food court” where we enjoyed a local Samoan lunch with fresh oka, eggplant, and pork/lamb mixed in:

Stephanie Liu got us authentic breadfruit to try!

After lunch, Chris tried to take us for bubble tea at Stephanie Liu’s request. But then we were told they rain out of tapioca after the fact. Fail. Then it was another 45 minute’s drive from Apia to the main Faleolo International Airport before saying goodbye to Chris and boarding our final flights home.

For $30 USD or $WST 80 you can access their VIP lounge:

After an hour nap on the 2 hour flight into Fiji, I said my final goodbyes to both the Stephanies as I hurried to catch my onward flight to Sydney with less than an hour to spare before the gate closed. Had enough time to catch this sunset at my gate:

…as well as barely a minute in the new Premier Lounge for Priority Pass holders:

Sleeping another 3 hours on the flight to Sydney, I checked into my Airbnb and banged out another 5 hours before having a whole relaxing day to myself on a quiet Sunday walking through Potts Point and Darling Harbour.

And guess who I was able to catch up with on a last minute message that I was in the area? Terri whom I met 7 years ago at the top of Kotor!

- At time of posting in Pago Pago, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 70% | Wind Speed: 18km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

The post American Samoa: You Have To Pago Pago To See Where They Day Ends appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Samoa Apia-ness You Win, Samoa You Lose

Calvin Sun — Thu, 29 Aug 2024 08:16:57 +0000

After 2 days in Tonga, we were dropped off at the airport by our driver Charles and boarded a 1:50pm afternoon Air New Zealand flight to Auckland. Landing uneventfully at 5pm I had almost forgotten how difficult customs can be at this airport, as well as the 10 minute walk to the carpark where the rideshare taxis will pick you up. Furthermore, the drive from AKL airport to the city center of Auckland takes about 45 minutes even on a good day, reminding me of the traffic back home when traveling from the city to JFK Airport. Suffice to say, it’s not Sydney airport.

And through it all, all was worth it when we checked in at the Park Hyatt in Auckland.

After I rushed a good workout in, the 3 of us reconvened at the hotel restaurant Onemata for a very nice and healthy dinner before I tried to cram as much of the hotel amenities I could including their infinity pool:

…and the hydrotherapy room attached to their spa on the second floor.

We needed all of that before I turned in by 9:45pm; I had slept on the couch last night in Tonga and this morning we had to get up way early at 3:30am to catch our 6am flight to Apia, Samoa.

At 4am we hailed an Uber who oddly after picking us up, he asked if he could go to the bathroom during the trip. Then he dropped us way way farther than where we were supposed to be at the airport. But instead of arguing, we loaded our backpacks onto some carts and ran over as fast as we could to departures. Then at the check-in area, the kiosks informed us that they needed proof of onward travel as well as asking if Stephanie Baron would be willing to be switched to the afternoon flight to Samoa (due to incoming weather that needed the plane to take on more fuel and therefore offload some weight and hence, some passengers).

Too tired to fight the machine, we asked for help from an Air New Zealand agent named Helen who went above and beyond back and forth among different people and offices to ensure we would all stay together. Thank you Helen! And luckily our flight would also be delayed an extra half an hour due to the weather, which gave us ample time to slog through the nearly overwhelmingly long (almost an hour!) passport, e-gate, and security lines to get to our gates. It always works out.

I even made a dash to the Strata Lounge and compared a before and after the last time I was here 5 years ago.

2019:

2024:

After catching up on sleep during our 3.5 hour flight to Samoa, we landed at 11am local time:

Once we arrived, we sailed through passports and customs with our visa on arrival.

Baggage claims and customs was fast, helped by a very friend welcome music:

Once through arrivals, we were picked up our guide, Chris, to take us on a full day tour of the island. We began with a drive for lunch at the south of the island at Sinalei Reef Resort & Spa.

We were informed that King Charles is planning to stay here himself in a few months:

After lunch Chris then drove us to Togitogiga Falls, a picturesque hideaway that you can access by a short trail.

Clean enough to take a dip in if you’d like!

We then drove on for 40 minutes to Sopoaga Falls:

Here we sat down for a presentation where Chris showed us himself how Samoans make coconut cream and conduct traditional cooking.

Next up: The To Sua Ocean Trench, the most iconic landmark in Samoa known for its beautiful gardens and majestic ocean views.

There’s a 30m deep sinkhole here which was formed naturally out of volcanic activity. The pool of ocean water at the bottom has become synonymous with Samoan tourism.

A long ladder down leads to the pool for swimming:

Once you’re down here, you might as well jump in.

After half an hour here, we then returned towards Apia around the Northeastern Coastal Road, passing by the damage caused by the tsunami back in 2019:

We then stopped at Le Mafa Pass Road, an elevated point of about 600 meters above sea level

From here we gazed down upon the Lalomauga village below as we made our drive back to Apia.

As the sun began to set and as we were getting hungry, we skipped passed The Piula Cave Pool, which would’ve otherwise been a great way to cool down in a natural fresh water pool which flows out from inside a cave.

We then continued on back to Apia for the next 35 minutes, passing by the gorgeous Immaculate Conception Cathedral, which is currently being renovated.

Chris then dropped us off at our lodgings at Tanoa Tusitala Hotel on the Mulinuu Peninsula where we checked in and had a perfectly satisfactory dinner at the nearby Amanaki. But on our way back we were lucky enough to catch a local fire dance show at the resort next to ours:

The next morning after another quick morning workout and breakfast, Chris sent a colleague, Tifu, to pick us up at 8:30am for a morning tour of whatever in Apia that we had missed the day before. Leaving our big bags behind at the hotel, we packed what we needed into a single backpack for an overnight at American Samoa, hopped in Tifu’s taxi and drove on to the Samoan Parliament House and Court House

We then took a 3 minute stroll through the Samoan Cultural Village where things are gearing up here for the upcoming Miss Samoa Pageant.

Next up we stopped at the Samoan National Museum, which is free of charge to visit. Don’t mind the ticket office; it’s probably for the shows that take place in the large auditorium here.

Finally before our 10:30am flight onward to the American Samoa, we made our last morning stop at the Robert Louis Stevenson Museum, the former residence of the eponymous author of Treasure Island and the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. It has now become a famous landmark in Samoa.`

There’s a large botanical garden behind his house, which probably served as an inspiration to his masterpieces and leads to an uphill hike to his gravesite.

After half an hour at the RLS house, Tifu drove to the more local and closer Fagaliʻi Airport where we caught a 10:30am Samoan Airways flight for 2 days in the American Samoa.

When we returned the next day, we reunited with Chris back at Fagaliʻi Airport where we found as tiny as this airport is, they still take customs very seriously:

Chris luckily agreed to take us on a curtailed mini-tour while also transferring us between Fagaliʻi Airport and the farther Faleolo International (APW) Airport. Since we had 5 hours in between our arrival from American Samoa and our onward flight out to Fiji for our international flights back home, he ensured us a necessary visit to Fugalei Market, the biggest in Samoa where locals sell locally made products for souvenirs as well as their fresh produce.

Next door is a “food court” where we enjoyed a local Samoan lunch with fresh oka, eggplant, and pork/lamb mixed in:

Stephanie Liu got us authentic breadfruit to try!

For $30 USD or $WST 80 you can access their VIP lounge:

To be continued at the end of the American Samoa post…

- At time of posting in Samoa, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 70% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and sunny

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Would You Like To Tonga?

Calvin Sun — Wed, 28 Aug 2024 21:07:20 +0000

After 2 days in Port Moresby, my local guide and driver Peter dropped me off for a 1:45pm flight out to Sydney where I arrived at 6pm local time. Quickly getting stamped in and sailing through customs this time, I took a 16 minute Uber ride to check into my free Chase night anniversary at the IHG Hotel Indigo at Potts Point. Then thanks to jetlag I crashed early at 8pm, waking up 6 hours later at 4am.

With nothing else to do, I had a quick breakfast at the hotel and returned back to the airport to meet with newcomer monsooner Stephanie Baron (who had found me on instagram only a month prior from my kidney cancer posts). She got a quick taste of my traveling style when with all our free time before boarding I took her on a rapid monsoon tour of all the lounges at SYD airport, including the Amex Centurion Lounge. Then we walked to our gate where I successfully dodged an attempt to gate check my bag, added my American Airlines membership number to my ticket, and boarded our 9:05am Qantas flight to TBU airport in Nuku’alofa, the capital of Tonga.

We landed 4 hours later at 4:10pm local time:

It’s a free visa on arrival for all USA passports.

Not even within 5 minutes of disembarking, we were outside at arrivals where we were picked up by Charles, the taxi driver neighbor of our Airbnb host, for a tour of Tonga.

Stephanie Liu, who had accompanied on my prior Pacific Island Hopper 6 months ago and arrived earlier in the morning (despite a mechanical failure causing her to be delayed and stay overnight on the floor of Nadi Airport), was waiting for us outside with Charles as well. Reunited! And they’re both named Stephanies!

Owing to intuition and inadvertent impeccable timing when I book my trips (and just like when I didn’t know I was visiting Yap on Yap Day about 6 months ago), I scheduled this trip to be exactly at the same time as the 53rd Pacific Islands Forum Leaders’ Meeting. To give you an idea of how big of a deal this is, the UN Secretary General just gave a speech today, here in Tonga, about rising ocean levels .

But because of this worldwide conference, everywhere on the island was fully booked except for this Airbnb I thankfully found at the last minute. We overheard that some foreign dignitaries and delegates were far unluckier and had to stay in makeshift container “hotels,” much like where we had stayed in Nauru 4 years ago back in 2019.

Charles agreed to drive us around the entire island of Tongatapu for the next 2 days, beginning with the western side and at ‘Anahulu Cave; a stalactite cave north of Fatumu village.

Admission fee is T$20 for a self-guided tour deeper into the cave with freshwater swimming pools which are clean enough to swim in and drink! Because the ATM at the airport wasn’t working, Charles covered for us as I’d pay him back later.

Opposite the cave is a jungle path to the coast.

We then drove to Ha’amonga ‘a Maui near the village of Niutōua in the northeast corner of the island and also known as the “Stonehenge of the Pacific”: a trilithon made out of coral and limestone and resembles that of Stonehenge itself.

Ha’amonga ‘a Maui means ‘Maui’s burden’, referring to the Polynesian God Maui who formed the Kingdom of Tonga by fishing the islands from the bottom of the sea. The trilithon, aka his burden, is believed to have been built around 1200 AD with several theories to its purpose: One is that the King at the time built it as a symbol of brotherhood for his two sons whom he feared would fight each other after he died. Each son was therefore represented by a stone pillar, and united by the lintel. Another explanation was that it was built as a “sundial” and guide for establishing the new year. A third and more likely explanation is that it was the gateway to the King’s palace at his new capital.

But because his capital did not last long, the trilithon stands alone.

Next stop: Mu’a on the eastern edge of the lagoon, the former capital of the island for centuries, and the home of the Tu’i Tonga lineage of kings. For visitors it is notable for being home to numerous tombs of prior kings.

A Tuʻi Tonga king would be buried here at Paepae o Tele’a in a langi: a large, artificial hill surrounded by slabs of 3+ layers of coral rock quarried from along the coast of Tongatapu and nearby islands. This was considered an engineering marvel considering how the rocks were cut so accurately that they could fit with so little space between each slab.

As the sun began to set, we drove back towards the center and passed by Captain Cook’s landing site.

Then we returned to the capital itself of Nuku’alofa, naturally the largest city of Tongatapu. After a quick look at the Royal Palace in the evening, the 3 of us asked to have local Tongan food for dinner. Charles therefore drove us for takeout at Mum’s Café. After ordering, I made a quick ATM run at the nearby ANZ bank to cover our takeout and pay Charles back.

Stephanie Liu and I opted for the Tonga Feast for T$35 each, which tasted incredibly good: super fresh coconut cerviche salmon, taro leaf-wrapped salted beef, fried fish, cassava…it quickly became one of my favorite meals in this part of the world.

As Charles returned home with the dinner we bought for him and his son, the 3 of us had dinner back at our Airbnb and stayed up afterwards chatting and having one of those rare, special, magical conversations that you can only get with strangers finding themselves on this side of the world for only one night.

We then all turned in at 9pm, where I took the couch and surprisingly had one of the best sleeps I could recall on a trip, waking up on my own at 6am. Taking my time to enjoy my morning and waiting for others to wake, Charles then returned at 8:30am right on time to take us back to Nuku’alofa for coffee and breakfast.

After a light breakfast and coffee at Coffee Post, we walked back to the wooden Royal Palace, built in 1867. It is the official residence of the King, although according to Charles, he lives somewhere else on the island now.

Until its death in 1966, the palace grounds here housed a tortoise given to the then King by Captain Cook.

The parliament is adjacent to the Palace, facing the sea along the waterfront.

From the palace we walked back around to Talamahu Market next to the Central Police Station, where local farmers bring their fresh produce for sale including seasonal fruits, yams, kumara, taro, and manioke.

Upstairs you can find local handicrafts, second hand clothing, shoes, jewelry and carvings.

We then stopped by the tiny National Museum on a second floor.

On the ground floor is a conventional hall where a trade show was taking place.

We then drove south to the Royal Tombs by Nuku’alofa. Historically visitors were unable to visit, but a project to improve the perimeter was launched 6 months ago by China allowing an informal peek inside:

From there Charles drove us all the way to the westernmost point and “tip of the spear” of Tongatapu at Abel Tasman’s Landing Site. Here mainly consists of a plaque which commemorates Abel Tasman’s landing on the western tip of Tongtapu island.

We then turned back south to drive the circumference of Tongatapu towards Tsunami Rock, also known as Maka Sio’ata. Located in the village of Kala’ua, near the site of a former village that was destroyed by a tsunami in 1917 and 9km from Liku’alofa Beach Resort, the rock is believed to have been formed from the force of that tsunami in 1917. It remains a marker of past tsunamis that have affected Tonga

Finally Charles made our last stop at Tongatapu’s famous blowholes, near the village of Houma southwest of the island.

When waves crash into the reef here natural channels in the volcanic rock and holes above allow seawater to be pushed through and forced up into the air. The highest of geysers come at high tide.

Then on our way back to the airport to catch out 1:50pm flight to Auckland, Charles pointed out a rare example of the “3-headed coconut tree.”

And with that, we head on to Samoa via Auckland!

After saying goodbye to Charles, we headed into the airport for our flight to Auckland. There Stephanie Baron and I were able to dodge the luggage agents while Stephanie Liu was forced to check in her rolling suitcase before boarding. Hopefully that won’t be an issue for Samoa!

- At time of posting in Tonga, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 74% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Sending By Port Moresby Code

Calvin Sun — Mon, 26 Aug 2024 06:16:18 +0000

Time provides a lens, and seemingly random incidents focus them.

I had a surgery 2 months ago to remove an undiagnosed (and now beaten) cancer that originally was offered to be this week. At the time I was faced at the moment to choose whether to have the surgery either a week before arriving in Papua New Guinea or Western Europe, and I chose the latter on instinct.

I’m glad I did; Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea, has a longtime reputation of being rough around the edges and I didn’t want to have any post-surgical complications in any part of the developing world. But to be honest after 2 days here, I think I could’ve managed it; it’s not as rought as I was led to expect.

2 days ago I redeemed 70k miles from Chase for 2 United premium economy flights from NYC to SFO with a 3 hour layover and then a 14 hour flight to BNE airport in Brisbane, Australia.

Remarkably I was able to total 9 hours of sleep on the 14 hour flight to Brisbane, minimizing my jet lag. Then when approaching the transfers area for my third and onward flight to Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, I gave myself the runaround whether to eschew immigrations for the international transfers area where I could (possibly) obtain my onward ticket from Brisbane to Port Moresby at the gate (Qantas needed to see a copy of my approved e-visa on arrival before issuing my ticket), or to enter Australia officially and check-in normally at departures. I had 3 hours to decide.

Hedging my risk tolerance, I ended up choosing the former. But after 10 minutes waiting in the international transfers area, I changed my mind after deciding it wasn’t worth the risk with having so much time on my hands. I exited back through security, went through immigrations to enter Australia, checked in normally at departures to obtain my ticket, and then was informed that I could’ve gotten the ticket anyway by staying in the transfers area and checking in at the gate. Finding out so much about myself and my penchant for risk and anxiety….

With 2 hours left to kill, I checked into the Plaza Premium Lounge for some coffee before taking the 9:05am Qantas flight from Brisbane to Port Moresby, arriving at 12:20pm.

Immigrations was straightforward: I filled out a customs form, showed them my e-visa approval letter on my phone, and got stamped in!

Walking past luggage and into arrivals, I texted my local contact Peter Morgan who was running late from Sunday church.

10 minutes in, Peter arrived with his enthusiasm and curiosity what would bring me to Papua New Guinea for only 24 hours.

Heading out from arrivals up to the second floor departures level, we got into his car in the parking lot and drove out for a tour of Port Moresby.

Peter drove me out 9-10 miles outside of Port Moresby for our first stop at the Bomana War Cemetery, commemorating the 700+ officers and men of the Australian Army, Papuan and New Guinea local forces, the Australian Merchant Navy and the Royal Australian Air Force, who lost their lives during the operations in Papua against the Japanese and who have no known grave.

There’s a commemoration to the Kokoda Trail, now a famously grueling single-file trekking path and the location of the 1942 World War II battle between Japanese and Allied Australian forces when Papua had belonged to Austrlia.

I found remarkable there were numerous if not most of the tombstones had no names; either “A SOLDIER OF THE 1939-1945 WAR” or “AN AUSTRALIAN SOLDIER” seemed to make up a good portion of the cemetery.

The veterans’ cemetery is right next to the 80 Hectare (and running out of room!) 9 Mile Cemetery:

Then stopping by to get waters at a local grocery store and not bothering with a broken ATM there (although there was a long line in front of it still), we next stopped at impressive Port Moresby Nature Park. No cash? They take credit cards for admission.

Located next to the University of Papua New Guinea, the nature park reserve is very well taken care of and features unbelievably rare PNG wildlife such as their birds of paradise . . .

Multiple wallaby species including tree kangaroos:

Cassowaries:

Other native bird species:

…and humongous snakes. It’s not everyday you come to a world-class nature preserve (and dare some say, zoo) and read poster boards that are less about the species and more about how to guard yourself against getting killed by them, since so many would be living in your own Papua New Guinean backyards:

If you are lucky you might catch a local wedding or two in the lush gardens here:

As jetlag was creeping up on me and after spending an hour at the park, we headed out for one last stop of the day at the breezy seaside Koki Fish Market.

Leave it to the Chinese to bargain for the best catch of the day. I know my people:

Peter then took me through central Port Moresby…

…passing by Mosque Hohola

…to the Hilton Port Moresby where I checked in, enjoyed a quick workout on the 15th floor, dinner on the first floor, and slept in early at 8pm.

Waking up after 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep + getting in another morning workout as the sun rose + a long black with complimentary breakfast on the rooftop Executive Lounge: perfection.

At 9am Peter returned to pick me up and made our first stop of our second day in Port Moresby at Parliament:

The National Museum is next door but unfortunately it was closed due to a local holiday. Nobody opened the gates for us and therefore Google Photos had to do:

Peter then took me down to the floating houses by the US embassy:

And stopped along the coast for a view of Port Moresby from the bay:

Still with so much time to kill before my departing flight out, we then drove up Touaguba Hill for the best views of Port Moresby.

The hill is where all the ambassadors, wealthy expats and well-off locals live. So they got served. And I took a potty break here.

Driving back down to sea level, Peter pointed out the handful of WW2-era Japanese bunkers that remain and still look out into the sea.

We then finished with a stroll along Ela Beach, where numerous locals and families played rugby and other beach sports.

Sitting on the coast, Peter nodded off and took a cat nap while I took in the fact I was in Papua New Guinea.

Then still with plenty of time, Peter drove me back to the airport 2 hours before my return flight out to Sydney.

Now back at the parking lot where we had only just met the day prior, Peter and I bid each other farewell and promised to see each other again when I’d return for a longer trip in Papua New Guinea.

Having already obtained my flight ticket online, I skipped the check-in desks and walked up to security.

Stamped out and at the departures lounge, I’m typing away from the only place to charge your phones by Gate 2. Trying to still grasp how I was able to visit Papua New Guinea only 2 months after removing a major organ and beating cancer before knowing I even had it…

- At time of posting in Port Moresby, it was 25 °C - Humidity: 80% | Wind Speed: 27km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and clear, hot hot hot

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Almost Lon-done!

Calvin Sun — Sat, 27 Jul 2024 03:12:58 +0000

With 3 days of Paris behind us, Paul and I met up with Sujay right before our 3:12pm Eurostar train to London. But seeing as Paul and I got there at 3pm, it was still too late to make it in time for passport processing and check-in. Dammit Brexit!

So we rebooked for the next train at 4:12pm for a €50 penalty.

It blows my mind how after political machinations such as Brexit would lead to these arbitrary structural changes in a train station to make the whole process feel as if we were in an airport.

I recall when traveling internationally on a train from Lithuania to Belarus, we boarded normally and had our passports stamped in while on the train, or when we traveled internationally from Spain to Morocco, we went through the whole process while already on the ferry as it was crossing.

From the departures lounge they announced our train formally just as if it were a flight.

And once settling in, we passed out on the 2 our train ride across the English Channel to London.

At least the arrivals lounge before customs comes off as pretty epic:

From St Pancreas station, we then took the tube on the Paddington line to Russell Square where we’d find out after the fact that the station here probably was once a fallout shelter (it literally is 176 winding steps without any escalators).

Paul and I swore never again after that rude discovery. Take the elevators at Russell Square Station when you arrive!

Knowing all too well how expensive London is with accommodations, I took advantage of my free anniversary night with IHG through my Chase credit card at the Kimpton Fitzroy:

After settling in for an hour, Paul and I rendezvous’ed with my huge group of monsooners and friends in London at Julian’s splendid choice of Indonensian fare at Toba – Corinna from Libya, Michael from Angola, Julian from high school, Nishant and Evan from Afghanistan among many many other monsoons, Evan’s partner Tammy, Morgan from NYC and her partner Kris…y’all so swell for coming out for me without knowing one another.

I hope y’all become good friends in London after I leave!

As I lazily stayed in the next morning enjoying my time at the Kimpton, Paul invited me to have coffee with his own friend based in London, Zorine, (whereas I invited Corinna and Nishant to return as well).

After a few hours of chatting, Zorine stayed behind with me and Nishant while Paul left with Corinna to get ready for a party.

By 3pm and after a Greek lunch with Zorine and Nishant in the area, I said my farewells and hopped on the one hour long Picadilly tube line for London Heathrow Airport. From there I boarded my flights home, beginning with a 5:50pm flight from Brussels to London.

Then with another overnight in Brussels, I checked out the new “The View” lounge at Terminal B of BRU airport:

Then I boarded my first ever business class flight with Air Canada.

I must say, I am impressed with AirCanada: Their onboard WiFi is the fastest I ever experienced, their dining (and even the coffee) sublime, and the service impeccably flexible and gracious. I am a new fan.

From Brussels, I landed nearly an hour early in Montreat, from where I worked a little bit at the airport and made a few phone calls for my Zermatt monsoon before finally boarding my last flight home from Montreal to NYC.

- At time of posting in London, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 77% | Wind Speed: 3km/hr | Cloud Cover: drizzles and sun

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Olympic Paris

Calvin Sun — Thu, 25 Jul 2024 11:15:33 +0000

On the Tuesday after Tomorrowland, we enjoyed coffee and breakfast outside our hotel at Natural Caffé before checking out:

Taking the 1:21pm Eurostar train from Brussels to Paris, we arrived at around 3:30pm, getting us to our beautiful and centrally located Airbnb just in time for check in at 4pm. As everyone settled in, Samantha helped me carry my stuff (cause you know, surgery) to check into a backup overflow studio Airbnb I had booked just in case.

We then headed out for grocery shopping for a quintessential Parisian picnic overlooking the Eiffel Tower at Belevédere de Belleville Park:

Before getting kicked out as the parks began to close up, Jay’s friend Sofia — hailing from Mexico City and Queens and currently living in Paris with an upcoming permanent residency status (congratulations!) — insisted on keeping the night going after our picnic. So instead of staying in and drinking at our Airbnb, we ended up a walk away at Le Compass for outdoor dining and drinks until 2am.

The next morning after a thoughtfully prepared breakfast provided by Maria and Ken at the Airbnb, I took Maria, Ken, Juliet, Edgar, Mel, Yuhan, Samantha, Rashidah on a walking tour beginning at the Louvre to the banks of the Seine, and then on the metro to Champs-Élysées. We then walked up to the Arc de Triomphe and down south again to the Trocadero Plaza for views of the Eiffel Tower up close.

However, considering the preparations for the Olympics going on at the same time, we could only really appreciate Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe to be the most immune from federal security blocking all the sights. Without a residency QR code to move around as freely or a ticket to see any of the events, we ended up licking our wounds with crepes in the area (and congratulating Samantha on her newfound freedom!), and running into Raubern and Natalie again after having just saw them at Tomorrowland.

Later in the evening for a 7:30pm reservation we re-congregated at La Renommée at Jenny’s recommendation for one of the most memorable meals I’ve had in Paris. As La Renommée belongs to the same restaurant group that sponsors 4 Charles Prime Rib back in NYC, we had high expectations…

…which with photos like these, met them before we even put anything in our mouths.

Thoroughly enjoying our meals, we overstayed our reservation time where we were then moved downstairs to their beautiful basement lounge cellar to finish off our experience with desserts and drinks.

After a whirlwind, consequential 2 weeks together, we then began our goodbyes after Le Rennomée. As some headed back to begin their packing, the few of us left joined with Sujay, his cousin Nisha, and their friend for later night outdoor drinks at Café du Central a few minutes’ walk away.

The next morning I woke up at 9:30am just in time for check out, where I packed my stuff, headed over to the main Airbnb around the corner, and helped everyone else who were still around for their check out. Hailing an Uber for Juliet and Edgar to the airport, I then joined Paul, Mel, Jenny, Yuhan, and Samantha for a croissant challenge.

La Maison d’Isabelle (team Jenny) vs. Boulangerie Terroir d’Avenir (team Paul):

The blind taste test winner on a vote by acclamation? Team Paul. Sorry Jenny!

After the croissant challenge and a ridiculously rich duck brunch at L’Épicerie Tour d’Argent, Paul and I headed out on a Eurostar train onwards to London, while the rest stayed behind for the Olympic games:

- At time of posting in Paris, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 86% | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: clear

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Tomorrowland 2024: Life

Calvin Sun — Tue, 23 Jul 2024 10:38:44 +0000

From Bruges the 14 of us boarded one of the frequent half an hourly trains to Brussels.

Once back at Brussels train station and parting ways with Maria, Kenneth, Juliet, and Edgar who would eschew Tomorrowland for 5 days in Antwerp and Ghent, the rest of us took the metro and tram to our lodgings at B&B HOTEL Brussels Centre Louise to begin our Tomorrowland Global Journey experience.

After freshening up for an hour, Mel, myself, Erika, Yuhan, Rashidah, and Samantha later on took a cab to the Gare Maritime for Tomorrowland’s preparty Invited Brussels, which was exactly the same as our experience had been last year:

Returning later at midnight, we got ready for a very eventful 3 days ahead of us:

Day 1: Free For All

Day 2: Dora the Explorer

Day 3: The colors of the rainbow

But at the Library stage on Day 2, while watching Lost Frequencies, I had far one of my favorite run-ins (of which there can be many at Tomorrowland) —

14 years ago in Mumbai:

Today at Tomorrowland:

And thank you to Mel, my wife, for carrying me through this entire trip so soon after my surgery. I meant every word during Adriatique at Main Stage.

Outside of main stage, us 90s kids had a blast seeing Shaq again:

And my post-college days music of listening to Sam Feldt:

For our second time around, we spent more time at stages we didn’t get to see as much last year, including watching Rezzmau5 close the second night at Freedom:

As well as CORE stage which has been modified to feature a split head this year and is much prettier at night:

The speaker company JBL sponsored a new stage this year called House of Fortune, built to be an elevated, more intimate dance floor right behind the main stage facing the opposite direction and overlooking east:

This year I also had the chance to link up with Anna’s group where they had an extra spot for us at Brasa’s Deluxe Dining experience featuring a better cut of steaks and appetizers:

The only veggies Brasa had this year in their otherwise meat-heavy theme was a side of radish and corn:

One of these platters of meat sweats is meant for a group of 4:

And instead of cake pops for dessert on your way out, Brasa went with an elevated enlarged macaroon:

One of my biggest regrets last year at Tomorrowland was not eating more at Mesa Garden, regarded to have the best concentration of good food at the festival:

And sadly for me, Roger Van Damme’s sweet dreams waffle dessert lost its novelty when I had it a second time around:

On the Monday recovering after Tomorrowland, we stuck around for an extra day to take advantage of the complimentary Garden of Elements experience at the park by the Atomium.

Little has been written about Garden of Elements online, but let me be the first to expose to the world how it’s a free for all (no tickets or proof of entry is needed when you come in) unlimited lunch dining and wellness activities.

Sadly this year we missed out on the massages; so in addition to all the smoothies and food, they instead offered trampolines, sand art, bubble art, relaxation areas, nature walks, an acupressure like glass-walk, and a sound bath.

When Erika, Mel and I realized just how much free food and smoothies were being handed out, I called in the calvary to help us eat everything right before closing at 7pm:

From there Mel and I parted ways with the group to attend the 9pm showing of the Symphony of Unity set. Tickets can be bought as an add on for €25 in the weeks leading up to Tomorrowland but they usually sell out, so get them fast.

And that said, get there more than a half hour early before doors open so you can get a seat in the balcony; otherwise it’s standing room only on the floor for a whole hour before they begin performing (that’s 2 full hours on your feet without any place to move or taking a break to sit!).

Tomorrowland should close a night with them. There was not a single dry eye in the room.

After the Symphony of Unity set ended at 11pm, we walked a few minutes over to rejoin the rest of the group waiting for us with drinks at Delirium Bar.

You’re probably the only group of friends that can convince me to go to a McDonald’s at 2am in the morning afterwards.

I was inspired to write how the theme of this year’s Tomorrowland was “Life;” therefore, irony and timing were not lost on me. Just over 3 weeks ago, I faced a life-changing surgery to remove my kidney due to what we now know would be cancer. Yet, the same intuition that had earlier saved my life pushed me to make this trip — with full blessings from my surgeon 7 days post-op. I’ve never bailed on a commitment, and I wasn’t about to start.

Across 5 countries the past 2 weeks, various loved ones offered their impressions on the rapidity of events: 20 days from discovering a mass, to immediate major surgery, to finding out later it was a tumor with malignant potential taken out at its earliest stage, to recovering quickly enough to lead this trip for 30+ people. It reinforced a truth I’ve always believed in: decisive action based on intuition, united with an unwavering commitment to my commitments and communities, can overcome even the toughest curveballs life throws at you.

This trip also reminded me of the balance of life: yin and yang, sweet and sour, hope and despair. The gratitude in this experience was made sweeter against the backdrop of recent hardships. I’ve learned more about my limits and the power of support from loved ones. Travel, as always since medical school, has been my healing path — what works for one might not work for another, but it’s crucial to know and honor our own ways.

Returning from this life-altering 20 days of facing major surgery, cancer, and a long-awaited journey reuniting with so many loved ones, I’m reminded that life is to be lived fully and with purpose. It’s time to embrace all its opportunities and give back even more. Let’s live. Let’s give.

- At time of posting in Tomorrowland, it was 14 °C - Humidity: 91% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: muggy, partly cloudy

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All In Bruges

Calvin Sun — Thu, 18 Jul 2024 10:38:45 +0000

Quite nice to watch the movie In Bruges again on the plane while typing this,

After 3 days in Amsterdam, our group of 10 headed out at 9am to catch a direct 10:08am train to Brussels, with a quick connection onwards to Bruges.

Arriving at the train station, we considered the free Bruges centrum shuttle but found out it was too small to even handle luggage. So we hailed 2 Uber vans instead, where one of our Uber drivers somehow for life of him could no longer find his phone before beginning our drive. Despite spending a few minutes trying to find it for him around the car, under our seats, or in the trunk, he insisted to drive us to our hotel and find it later. I hope he finds it!

Checking into our fancy hotel at Hotel Navarra Bruges, we linked up with the rest of the squad as Jay, Jason, and Christina arrived to check in around the same time.

One of my favorite cities in Europe, now with friends and loved ones to share the love with:

Our subsequent afternoon walking tour resembled that of the one I took 8 years ago, where you can see everything as a tourist within 3-4 hours. After our stroll, we reconvened for a reservation I made at a lovely rooftop restaurant at Oda Rooftop Bruges:

There Gina got a last minute ticket to Tomorrowland and took a day trip from Brussels just to have dinner with us:

After dinner, we jammed for a bit at an outdoor street party outside the bar and headed back to to the hotel for its complimentary sauna and pool on the first floor:

From what I heard before I went to bed, the hotel bar here makes the best gin and tonics.

The next morning we all lazily got up at different times of the day to link up with an Ambassadors free walking tour before heading onwards on an afternoon train to Brussels.

- At time of posting in Bruges, it was 13 °C - Humidity: 93% | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: clear

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When Amsterdam Meets the Monsoon II: A More Perfect Union

Calvin Sun — Wed, 17 Jul 2024 10:38:47 +0000

From the Dolomites our wonderful little group of 6 began our drive back to Venice Airport at 7am to drop off both our rental cars. We first said our goodbyes to Kenny and Ainsley (who had come only for the 3-4 days with us in the Dolomites), at first in the rental lot and then running into them to say goodbye again at departures. Then Anna split off to spend a few more days in Venice while Mel, Samantha, Rashidah, and I flew onwards from VCE to AMS in a muggy, packed cabin on KLM’s afternoon direct flight to link up with the rest of the group.

Getting into Amsterdam and having to contend (for my first time) the largest baggage claims area I’ve ever seen, we then waited a few more minutes for Yuhan to get out at arrivals. From there I introduced to them Amsterdam’s wonderful airport-train station hybrid concept where you can get from arrivals to Amsterdam Centraal within 20-25 minutes.

Despite the threat of a signal malfunction taking out one of the direct trains into the city, we took an alternative local option that only added 5-6 extra minutes. From there we took the metro to our accommodations at ClinkMama hostel, formerly known as EcoMama, a wonderful place where I had stayed 8 years ago when I last monsooned Amsterdam.

At the hostel we made introductions and reunited with Leslie and Maria (also from a 2016 monsoon) and her husband Kenny, while bemoaning how their friends Juliet and Edgar had been delayed and were rerouted to arrive a day later than expected. Leaving a few hours for everyone to freshen up, we set out at 6:30pm for dinner with my friend Anthony as well as his friends Alina and Theo, at the very convenient outdoor dockyard restaurant Hannekes Boom.

After ordering and feasting upon rallies of dishes, drinks, and desserts to our covered picnic tables at Hannekes Boom, we then took a stroll to walk off our food by giving Leslie, Maria, and the others their first tour of the Red Light District.

Maria was yelled at for taking photos but luckily did not get fined.

We finished off our walking tour at the cocktail bar Hiding in Plain Sight in close proximity to our hostel. They had a strict 5 person max per party rule but relented to allow us 2 more. But that was their ceiling; once Mel arrived from the hostel after her meetings, we were asked to have someone else leave. Exhausted from a long day from The Dolomites, I happily swapped our places to return home for an early sleep.

The next morning Paul joined us to take us on a late morning tour of Amsterdam, beginning with the famous Dutch medallion-like pancakes (pannenkoeken) at De Carrousel Pannenkoeken.

Pancakes, omelettes, and good vibes galore, we walked off our food to the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum area.

Then we took the trolley up to the Westerkerk where we took shelter from the rain for a few minutes.

Once the rain lightened up, we walked up by the Anne Frank Museum where from there Maria and Kenny headed back while the rest of walked towards central Amsterdam.

Paul then took us Van Stapele Koekmakerij, a recently famous and buzzy cookie shop that is known and only sells one type of its ooey gooey filled chocolate cookie. It was incredible.

Not as incredible but with an established staying power: Traditional Dutch herring.

Then splitting up after another rainstorm, a few of us returned back to the lodgings while Mel, Yuhan, Rashidah, and I met up with Anthony and Alina at Alina’s lovely successful crafts store called Pansy:

As Juliet and her husband Edgar finally arrived into Amsterdam a day later than they had scheduled and after trying to get as much as they could in 2 hours, we then returned to our lodging to change for our long-awaited dinner reservations at De Kas, a Green Michelin star winner for its sustainable direct farm/garden-to-table cooking.

And by direct farm/garden-to-table cooking, it really means it. This is the reception area where you walk into and check in.

The menu changes daily, and no paper menus are provided. You either choose a 4 or 5 course option, and conveniently, you don’t have to decide until the 3rd course.

They began with tomato soups and shishito peppers:

…complemented by a garlic parsley butter spread and sourdough bread:

Course 1:

Course 2:

Course 3; pork cheeks being the only meat dish of the evening:

Course 4: a sweet dessert

Course 5: a savory dessert (with cheese!)

And finally, the most perfectly rounded scoop of sorbet

As much as I love Amsterdam the first time I went, being able to share this city with others has been even more fulfilling.

- At time of posting in Amsterdam, it was 17 °C - Humidity: 82% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: occasional rain

The post When Amsterdam Meets the Monsoon II: A More Perfect Union appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Dolomites Be Back!

Calvin Sun — Sun, 14 Jul 2024 08:01:38 +0000

Born here, but not destined to die here.

Mount Sinai Hospital: My birthplace, my first job at 16, a doctor at 33, and most recently, a patient. Only this time I was discharged without one of my kidneys. That wasn’t the plan.

Months ago an MRI was offered for 5 years of back pain. I sat on the referral; my training suggested such testing was overkill. But something inside me spoke louder. So 2 weeks ago, I got it done: My spine was fine, but it found an incidental mass on my right kidney.

Within days and after my insurance approved more advanced full-body imaging, I was scheduled for a robot-assisted partial nephrectomy with renowned urologist and surgeon Dr. Michael Palese. Walking into the operating room with my friend Sabrina sending me off, I felt grateful for having lived a full life ten times over and having built a worldwide community of friends. Yet, I reminded myself “don’t worry, it’s just part of your kidney.”

It was not just part of my kidney.

Due to the mass’s unexpected size Dr. Palese and his team (as well as a second urologist he pulled in for a second opinion) decided mid-surgery to call my wife Mel and inform her they were going to take out the entire organ. When waking and receiving the news, I felt an inexplicable loss, as if I had a breakup when I thought we’d just had a fight. Still waiting on the report, we don’t know what this was, what caused it, or if it’ll be chalked up to the randomness of the universe. There’s still so much we won’t know about own bodies.

I was discharged within 15 hours of this minimally invasive and yet major surgery to mourn and reflect. As much as I feel a physical pain, a harder part of my recovery is shifting towards gratitude that we caught this early. Although I’m unlucky that these masses are rare at my age, the hardest part has been the perpetual awareness of the inequities where so many others aren’t as fortunate. From insurance approvals to specialist availability and surgical decisions, every step underscored a potential fragility and unpredictability. Yet through it all, I’ve witnessed moments of profound resilience.

8 Days Later:

“I don’t know what possessed you to get that MRI 3 weeks ago, but you just saved your own life.” — Dr. Michael Palese, my surgeon

Saved. Saved myself from the report indicating a Stage pT1a 3.5cm TFE3-rearranged renal cell carcinoma, aka kidney cancer that was caught and taken out at its earliest stage.

Although TFE3 suggests a rare type linked to aggressive potential, the immediate action of taking out my whole kidney (which is like burning the forest around a potentially devastating fire to contain it once and for all before it spreads) within days of the MRIs and in the mass’s earliest stages (pT1a), means we got all of it out in time to maximize an excellent prognosis and an otherwise normal and healthy life. Some could argue I can live on as if I never had a kidney removed at all (here’s to hoping and not jinxing anything). The report also confirmed zero spread into any surrounding blood vessels, fat, lymph nodes, or tissue.

But given its rarity, we still won’t know what caused it, what lifestyle habits it’s linked to (no kidney cancer in my family), and whether it’ll return. Still so much we still don’t know about our own bodies. All this within a whirlwind 3 weeks.

This means continued surveillance with regular MRIs, and more reason to commit to regular full nights of sleep and healthier habits. I can also now more fully trust my intuition and how something(s) are always watching over me. And live now while you can; I’m grateful I already did so many times over and already was slowing down before even this. Now it’s time to recover fully, let my cup fill, and then get back to work on making this world a better place with more intention. I’ve been saved from the brink for a reason, so let’s invest in that purpose, whatever it may be. Something, or someone out there wants me around for a little longer. I now have to find out why.

And my 5 years of back pain is gone.

Gratitude extends to Dr. Michael A. Palese of Mount Sinai Urology, Lenox Hill Radiology, Prenuvo, Liz Eswein, Dr. Dan Cavallo of CityMD, Sabrina Poon, Mel Jeng, Sharon Li, Amelia Shillingford, Linus Sun, Mihaela Kracun, Paul Woo and so many others for being the village that saved my life within a span of 3 weeks

A renewed lease on life carries purpose. As a doctor at the doorstep of life and death, I see the challenges patients face. And now as a patient at the very same doorstep of my own mortality, may I use my privilege and training to commit further and advocate for a difference in any way I can, right now.

I also don’t flake. This is me 7 days after surgery:

A few hours after receiving my pathology report for the mass, I was then determined to follow through on my longtime planned trip to The Dolomites. I never flake.

Now how does one prepare for a trip to a place as talked about and expansive as The Dolomites? It can feel overwhelming to even begin preparing as you’ve seen so many photos of it and yet so little written about a straightforward approach; the area is so vast you can go hiking, walk around Cortina d’Ampezzo, eat your way through towns and forests on a rental car, camp out on the peaks, or all of the above and still feel you didn’t quite appreciate the majesty of the place. It’s such a large region and is unique as well for being the site of numerous fronts of World War I between Italian and Austro-Hungarian armies. Therefore one may notice confluence of German and Italian influences that remain embedded within the local culture here today.

Because of my surgery 8 days earlier, Mel insisted on joining me the entire time on my flight out (I’m not allowed to carry anything more than 15lbs for 6 weeks after surgery). So I moved things around to use miles for the same JFK-VIE flight I began with on my last trip to Libya, where we could catch up with Daniela again as if it were my biannual Vienna tradition, and head onwards from Vienna to Venice.

Departure day was hectic: I woke up at 8am, recorded a session with my travel reels editor Oliwer at 8:30am, and then took a 9:30am train up to Harlem to follow through on an originally scheduled coffee date with Fatima and Doreen. At 11am I briefly excused myself to update Dr. Palese over a telehealth zoom call while both of us wondering when the pathology report would come back. At noon Fatima and Doreen said our goodbyes and I came back down to my place just in time to pick up free luggage at the local La Colombe café from someone Mel found on BuyNothing named Alexander (who happens to know my brother Linus and sister-in-law Sofia from tango). I then caught up with old friends like Eric Pan (on his own birthday!) at my apartment, then get to know a new friend named Jessica (who also happened to know Eric but had just missed him) who had wanted to meet before I left, and then even older friends like Paul Woo came by to say hi just in time to be there when I received the pathology report by 5pm.

As Mel returned home at 6pm to help me finish packing, I was still speaking again with my surgeon over the phone, had called Linus, Amelia, Sharon (my oncologist friend) about the results, and spoke with Paul again for his impeccable timing of arriving for these kinds of news, before Mel and I took a cab to the airport at 7pm to make it to our 9:45pm flight to Vienna. Not even having time to still fully digest the news, Mel and I boarded our flight luckily still with plenty of time to spare thanks to VIPOne Lounge access at JFK Terminal 1 and Austrian Airlines being delayed as we waited at the Lufthansa Lounge past security.

Between 2 months ago (the last time I flew Austrian Airlines on business class) and tonight, it looks like I have been rewarded with an upgraded herringbone version of Austrian Airlines’ business class seat:

After we took off an hour late, I initially turned down the dinner service since the surgery had made my stomach feel really tiny. Thankfully this allowed me to sleep immediately after takeoff.

But when I woke up 4 hours later on my own, I was able to still get their dinner on request:

After landing an hour late at 1pm local time in Vienna, Mel and I dropped off our luggage at left luggage services at the 1st floor of Terminal 3 (they keep that service real hidden for some reason), and took the local train S7 to meet up with Daniela. After a sobering 2 hours having lunch at HiddenKitchen by the Vienna Mall discussing how I’d feel just having found out I had — and hopefully dodged — cancer, Mel and I returned back to Vienna airport for our nearly 2 hour flight from Vienna to Venice.

I was the only one in Air Dolomiti’s business class area where the only difference is nobody sitting next to me and this complimentary meal:

Landing at 6pm at Venice Airport at VCE, Mel and I took an Uber to a cute hotel and farm 4 minutes away from the airport where we had dinner at the attached trattoria and readjusted to the jet lag one day earlier; the rest of my group of monsooners (new monsooners Samantha, Anna and Ainsley’s friend Kenny, as well as returning monsooners Rashidah and Ainsley) would arrive the next day.

The next morning after breakfast, we checked out and our hotel’s happy-go-lucky hotel and restaurant owner drove us himself the car rentals area at Venice Airport, where we reunited with the rest of the group on the 3rd floor. After a quick change in a plans when the local Italian car rental agency asked for an international driver’s permit, we quickly switched over for 2 smaller vehicles from Hertz across the hall who did not require an IDP. Thankfully Kenny on his first monsoon stepped up to be our second driver.

We then drove 2 hours over to the valley town of Cortina d’Ampezzo where the weather changed from the muggy flatlands of sea level to downpours and snap thunderstorms of the valley, to the cool, crisp spring air of the mountains.

About an hour into the drive, we stopped at Lago di Santa Croce for a small lunch and getting to know one another.

We then continued into the Dolomites. I called back my surgeon again to discuss more about the next steps with the pathology finding and discovered that we both were born at Mount Sinai and I had worked in his father’s lab (Dr. Peter Palese) back as my first job when I was 16 years old!

Something, or someone is out there wants me to stick around for a little longer.

By 2pm we reached Cortina d’Ampezzo, where we’d make our base camp for the rest of our Dolomites excursions.

As Mel had to start her remote work to sync with the mornings back home, the rest of us walked around Cortina d’Ampezzo, purchased some snacks and groceries at the co-operative mall, and went for a drive in the vicinity to get the lay of the land and going as far as Seggoiovia Cinque Torri.

We then stumbled upon Baita Resch, a family owned restaurant with this view:

Not a bad place to have your first group dinner on the first day of an adventure:

The next morning, the early risers (Ainsley, Kenny, and me) had some coffee in town before returning to wait for Rashidah’s early morning arrival on the Cortina Express bus from Venice Airport.

Once everyone was up, we began our long road trip around the Dolomites.

We first drive the 30 minutes west to board the €24 and 5 minutes Seggiovia Cinque Torri chairlift up to Rifugio Scoiattoli with its views of Cinque Torri.

Spending half an hour wandering, we walked back to Rifugio Scoiattoli just in time for opening and lunch before the crowds took over.

By 1:30pm we took the chairlift back down to the parking lot.

Another hour and half’s drive led us through the beautiful Gardena Pass . . .

. . . to the town of Ortisei, where we boarded the €45, 2 part and almost 20 minutes long Seceda Gondola and Cable Car.

The lfit is 2 parts as in, you get off the ski-like gondola first to board the official group cable car to the very top.

Once you disembark to the top up Seceda, you can see why this is a UNESCO World Heritage Site just for these views:

The peaceful, grazing cows here were a big hit with us:

Grateful to be alive, all things considering:

We really wanted to make the most of our time here so we decided to have a few drinks and a small meal at Baite Sofie Hütte overlooking the valley before they closed at 5:30pm:

With the last cable car running at 6:00pm in the evening, we boarded the last one down.

Back in our cars and figuring out how to escape the parking lots underneath the gondola station, we drove 37 minutes west and then north to the classic shot of Vai de Funes that is representative of everything you know when you search for The Dolomites on Google Images.

While Google Images is reliable for this viewpoint, Google Maps is not; so instead of plugging in Vai de Funes, we recommend that you plug in “Santa Magdalena Viewpoint” instead. Then drive as far as you can there (they only allow cars of Santa Magdalena-n residents past a certain point, although my guardian angel somehow allowed my car to go through back and forth the gate), park wherever you’re allowed, and hike from the town for no more than 15-20 minutes up to the classic viewpoint of the church underneath the peaks.

Can’t get enough of this view. Sadly, however, the other car with Kenny, Ainsley, Rashidah, and Samantha did not have a guardian angel whisking them past that pesky, mysterious, residents-only gate. But instead of parking and taking the 15-20 minute walk as we waited for them, they decided to turn back early to get dinner back in Cortina d’Ampezzo.

Mel, Anna, and I lingered a little longer here until sunset before we drove back ourselves.

However, karma would have it balance out where our car may have missed a turn and ended up taking a much longer, 2.5 hour drive back to Cortina d’Ampezzo instead of the originally planned 2 hours. We got to dinner just in time as dishes were being served and before the restaurant closed up at 11pm.

Sleeping in the next morning, our Dolomites crew then drove up an hour to Lago di Braies for the water activities of Pragser Wildsee.

They have a weird parking and entry system where to enter the area, there’s a €40 per car “tax” that includes parking at either P1 (2.2km from the lake with a shuttle taking you to the lake every 30 minutes) or P2 (an 800m walk to the lake). Not trusting either option as making any sense, I decided to press further and drive as far up to the lake as we could.

Once we reached the lake itself without nobody stopping us, we happened upon the adjacent P4 parking lot where we could pay €7.50/hour/car without needing to bother with a shuttle bus or walking. See? Trust your gut

Once parked, we wanted to take part in the idyllic rowing activities in the lake; for 45 minutes it costs €15 per person or €50 for a private boat that fits 5 people max.

After 45 minutes of taking turns learning and teaching each other how to row, we then crossed over and stopped at the hotel by the lake for a quick al fresco lunch while going around playing an icebreaker of what our toxic traits are (thank Jenny! it’s a crowdpleaser).

By 3pm we headed northeast another hour up northeast to Tre Cime di Lavaredo, the famous three distinctive battlement-like peaks. Learning from this morning, we drove up as far up as we could again after paying the €30/car toll to enter the area.

Deciding to go for a little hike, we traversed down the slopes to the church about a few km away.

You can keep going for another 3-5 hours (or even more!) if you’d like to tour the entire circuit around the whole park.

There’s a cafeteria style rifiugio back at the trailhead if you need a place to recharge, sleep, or eat.

After our hike, we drove back to Cortina d’Ampezzo and stopping at the picturesque Lake Misurina on the way.

Considering the whole story behind our time here and in the weeks preceding this trip, our 3 days in the Dolomites will be hard to beat.

The only downside of The Dolomites was figuring out laundry with a washing machine and without a dryer the night before our drive home. A little DIY, a small bathroom, and a heater underneath…

- At time of posting in Cortina d'Ampezzo, it was 17 °C - Humidity: 83% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: heaven on earth

The post Dolomites Be Back! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet The Monsooners of Tomorrow!

Calvin Sun — Fri, 07 Jun 2024 13:08:48 +0000

This July we’re heading back to Tomorrowland with at least 10 others who had to watch from afar last year. It’ll be a bunch of reunions:

Greece Yacht Week is ahead, seeing 8 returners in Mel, Paul, Sujay, Leslie, Jay, Yuhan, Christina, and Michelle
The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse is up next with Sujay, Yuhan, and Jenny

Our top returners:

Sujay “Chief Siesta Officer” Sheth: 6 time monsooner returning from The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse, The Greek Epic, South Korea, Svalbard, Vancouver and Sardinia
Paul “The Shaman” Woo: 5 time monsooner returning from Libya, The Canary Islands, The Greek Epic, South Korea and St. Lucia & Martinique
Ainsley “Jasmine Flower” Martin, a 3 time monsooner returning from The Canary Islands, South Korea and The Faroe Islands
Leslie “The Lamb Whisperer” Limo: 2 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic and Wales
Jay “Vermut” Shih: 2 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic and French Polynesia
Yuhan “Chief Barista Officer” Lee: 2 time monsooner returning from The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse and The Greek Epic
Mel: returning from The Greek Epic
Christina Lam: returning from The Greek Epic
Michelle Liu: returning from The Greek Epic
Rashidah Namutebi: returning from Mali
Maria Laidlaw: returning from Central Europe
Jenny: returning from The Hokkaido Snowpocalypse

That said, we introduce our next generation of monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain! My Captain!" Sun - Expedition Leader | Emergency Physician | NYC

Paul "Shaman" Woo – Return Monsooner: Return Monsooner: Apr. '24 (Libya), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Jan. '22 (St. Lucia & Martinique) | Photographer | OH

Christina "Dental to ICU" Lam - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | Dentist | NYC

Michelle "H2O" Liu - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | Real Estate | NYC

YuHan "BesFren" Lee - Return Monsooner: Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | SF

Rashidah "Out of Austin" Namutebi - Return Monsooner: Feb. '22 (Mali) | Austin

Zelyn K - NYC

Maria "Snowbird" Laidlaw - Florida

Erika "Pancake Princess" Kwee - Content Creator | NYC

Samantha Ali - Florida

Sujay "Dispensary" Sheth - Return Monsooner: Feb. '24 (Hokkaido), Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '23 (South Korea & Jeju), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Feb. '22 (Whistler), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica) | Radiologist | Chicago

Mel "The Wifey" Jeng - Return Monsooner: Jul. '24 (Crete) | NYC

Leslie “The Lamb Whisperer” Limo - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), May '22 (Wales) | HR | Queens, NY

Jay "Vermut" Shih - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia) | NYC

Ainsley Martin - Return Monsooner: Nov. '23 (Canary Islands), Mar. '23 (South Korea), Aug. '22 (Faroe Islands) | Speech-Language Pathologist | Syracuse, NY

Jenny "Birkin" Ngo - Return Monsooner: Feb. '24 (Hokkaido) | NYC

Jason Y - NYC

Arne Landwehr - Doctor | NYC

Anna M. - NYC

Kenny Phu - Arkansas

And where we’re actually monsooning through this coming July 2023:

Dolomites

Bruges

Tomorrowland

Brussels

Paris

Want to join us? More details about the trip can be found here: JULY 2024.

The post Meet The Monsooners of Tomorrow! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Nevis Say Never Again

Calvin Sun — Fri, 10 May 2024 13:14:15 +0000

On our second day on the islands and from where we were staying (for free!) at the Park Hyatt, we enjoyed a breakfast at the Great House while facing the island of Nevis:

After breakfast, I walked to concierge (also located within the Great House) to arrange a reservation for their own water taxi that leaves roundtrip for Nevis island approximately once every 90 minutes from 6am to 6pm.

You can board directly at the private like pier in front of Fisherman’s Village:

10 minutes later, we reached Nevis island!

Outside we were picked up by a wonderful local cab driver and tour guide named Curvis. He took us on a brief tour of his island, beginning with its history and a stop at St. Thomas Anglican Church:

He’d play fun games with us, such as asking if this was a cemetery or a graveyard (hint: it’s a graveyard if it’s in front of a church):

Continuing south, Curvis reminded us that Alexander Hamilton’s birthplace is right here in Nevis!

From the museum located on his birthgrounds, we reached the “capital” of Charlestown. He pointed out that there is even a small “Chinatown” within, where many Chinese families and even a single Taiwanese owns property here in the center:

Nevis, being a dormant volcano, also has made use of the natural hot springs here with water warmed by the volcanic rock below:

The springs are open to the public 24/7:

The hot springs also used to be the home to the Historic Nevis Bath House Hotel, where famed British naval commander Lord Horatio Nelson held his marriage celebrations here with his wife Frances “Fanny” Nelson who is also from this island.

Views from the former hotel:

Afterwards Curvis dropped us off at the famous Sunshines Restaurant facing the water. It’s home to the delicious but deadly Killer Bee cocktail:

After half an hour here, we walked up the beach to the Four Seasons Hotel:

Although we’re biased to the Park Hyatt, the Four Seasons could be our next spot … if it only took Chase Ultimate Rewards transfers.

Then as the sun began to set, Curvis picked us up at the Four Seasons and took us back to our ferry ride home.

There’s a $4 USD port fee you have to pay to leave Nevis, but nobody ended up asking us for it.

- At time of posting in Nevis, it was 26 °C - Humidity: 77% | Wind Speed: 24km/hr | Cloud Cover: mostly sunny

The post Nevis Say Never Again appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Saint Kitts Your Worries Goodbye!

Calvin Sun — Thu, 09 May 2024 13:15:33 +0000

It was never likely I’d let more than 3 months go by between monsoons (unless there’s a pandemic). But as always, I’ll let the universe decide whether I should travel or stay put.

So when I got a notification 3 days ago that my Hyatt points was about to expire unless I do something with them, my curiosity led me to poke around. Within minutes I discovered how 25,000 Chase Ultimate Reward points could transfer 1:1 to a single night at a Category 7 Park Hyatt property in Saint Kitts & Nevis; it usually goes for 30,000 points a night!

And without any hidden strings attached, I transferred 50,000 Chase Ultimate Reward points to my Hyatt account which also reactivated my status and resetting the clock on my already existing miles in that count. Then, booking the rooms directly on Hyatt.com, and then using my $300 Capital One travel credit towards a $272 roundtrip JetBlue flight from NYC to Saint Kitts, and voila, we had our next monsoon!

Thanks to the automated e-mail bots of Hyatt.com:

And those budget basic Blue economy $272 roundtrip JetBlue flights weren’t so bad either; this one flew direct from NYC JFK Terminal 5 at 9:30am, landing about 4 hours later at 1:24pm.

The great thing about Caribbean airports is that if you’re sitting in the back, you can also quickly exit from the back.

Once we arrived at passports, we were told to fill out an entry and customs declaration form online. They take this very seriously and they won’t hand out these forms on the plane.

I first tried to fill them out on my 4G LTE data T-Mobile offered, but many of the dropdown answers weren’t available so staff told me to go on their WiFi to finally see and complete the answers. It sounds like connecting to the airport WiFi is probably the only way you can do them!

After showing the passport office our form confirmations, we were stamped in and then interrogated thoroughly at baggage claims about whether we were bringing in any meats, plants, animals products or foreign vegetables into the country.

Outside arrivals we were picked up by our pre-arranged cab services by our lodgings at the Park Hyatt. . . .

However, I’m going to structure this blogpost in reverse beginning with our 1 hour walking tour of the capital city of Basseterre after we had checked out of Park Hyatt.

From our third and final night’s lodgings at the centrally located and pleasant Seaview Inn we began our tour of the capital walking west along Bay Rd:

Depending on the tide, you can see a few remnants of wreckages in the Bay Front of Basseterre:

The Basseterre Market sits right across from the Basseterre Ferry Terminal and will be on your right if walking west along Bay Rd:

After about 10 minutes of walking along the Bay under the sun, we reached the Cenotaph, commemorating the 20 or so from these islands who died in both World Wars.

Climbing up to the Cenotaph, you can turn around for this view of Basseterre:

We then continued south another 10 minutes along Bay Rd. past the the War Memorial Stone Pier and towards the remains of Fort Thomas. You can tell you’re on the right path if you notice the decorative cannons (probably from the Fort) on top of these condos:

We walked past a few unguarded barriers to reach what appeared to a paintball field:

Note that they call this area “Fort Thomas Grounds” and not “Fort Thomas.” That’s because there’s not much left here to see from Fort Thomas itself:

We then curved our walk back up north and hopped this unguarded, low-lying stone wall:

Walking back along the wall after a quick bug check on our legs, we noticed the remains of a hotel.

Fittingly now that the “Fort Thomas Hotel” seems to also be no more, it looks like they got rid of “Hotel” from the sign to rename the whole abandoned building back to just “Fort Thomas.” Irony.

We then returned back the 20 minute walk to Basseterre, beginning at The National Museum of St. Kitts which entrance is located within the cruise ship area of Port Zante. It was also once the Old Treasury building, built in 1894 and originally the gateway to Basseterre.

It’s currently closed for renovations:

The Amina Craft Market lies a few steps ahead from the museum:

We walked through the market and into Port Zante (currently empty since right now is out of season for cruise ships to stop by). I can imagine the potential.

The parking lot here looks like a cemetery with their cross-like signs:

We soon left the port and walked up 5 minutes north to Independence Square, once formerly the site of a slave market:

The Immaculate Conception Catholic Co-Cathedral is right in front of the square:

We then stopped at the Round-A-Bout:

Take a closer look to see Queen Victoria’s face on it:

Then, walking west along Cayon Rd., we reached the beautiful St. George’s Anglican Church:

After exploring the church, we walked south towards Basseterre’s Berkeley Memorial and Circus, modeled after London’s Piccadilly Circus:

And after an hour’s walk underneath the heat of a Caribbean sun, we were back at the National Museum.

Since all the restaurants here seemed to be shuttered due to it being both a Sunday and Mother’s Day, we picked up snacks at a local grocery store, walked back to Seaview Inn where we checked out early and headed back to the airport for our return flight home.

Now going back in time to our first 2 nights at Park Hyatt St. Kitts Christophe Harbour, we took the 25 minute’s drive southeast from the airport in the peninsula of Saint Kitts, facing directly across from Nevis island.

The entryway alone is enough to convince you that you’ve stumbled upon luxury:

We enjoyed the open concierge concept, where staff comes to wherever you are with a fresh, scented cool towel and a choice of complimentary fruit punch, rum punch, or water.

After checking in and being ferried by golf-cart to our rooms, we walked around the property. It’s pretty big:

They have 2 pools. The lower, main one is for families and has a pool bar serving both food and drinks:

The second, more elevated pool area overlooks the main one. Leave the kids behind at the property’s kids playground area; this area is only for adults:

During the day we enjoyed their free water sports cabin by their private beach, such as my FIRST TIME finally STANDING UP on STAND UP PADDLEBOARDING!

Other sports on land include a pickleball court open on Saturdays for $75 USD:

And a reconverted Sugar Mill that now serves as a soundbath and yoga studio inside:

This and the 24/7 gym is connected to the Sugar Mill Spa Sanctuary in between, open until 6pm:

The relaxation areas are separated by gender; each has a fully equipped bathroom and lockers with your own robe and towels inside, complimentary unlimited tea, outdoor showers, amenity area, both a wet and dry sauna, and outdoor waterfall pools:

As for dining, you can choose from the seafood-focused Fisherman’s Village.

They have a $75 USD per person buffet every Saturday evening:

You can sit as far out as you like, so we chose to eat as far out as possible in front of Nevis island. The only catch here over sitting inside: the bugs come out in full force in this area, feasting on both you and food!

We also happened to come on the World Cocktail Day, where Fisherman’s Village hosts an annual bartending and cocktail competition:

The Great House is the other main restaurant at Park Hyatt outside the Pool Bars (which serves from the same kitchen anyway). This is where breakfast, lunch, and dinner is served everyday on the property:

Finally, we couldn’t pass up the only night Stone Barn would be open during our weekend here.

The Stone Barn at Park Hyatt St. Kitts recently had won “Best Caribbean Fine-Dining” at the 2022 World Culinary Awards. Their menu is designed in an “elemental” theme, beginning with…

wood. Brioche with Citrus | Jerk Spices | Sea Salt butter

stone. Amuse with Crab Johnny Cake – Red Onion | Mango (NF) Beef Tartare – Horseradish | Caviar (NF) (DF) Quinoa – Red Pepper | Almond | Leek

earth. Green Gazpacho with Beetroot | Goat Cheese | Walnut | Avocado | Apple

water. Yellowfin Tuna with Aji Panca | Passion Fruit | Local Herbs | Radish | Jalapeño

smoke. Cedar-Infused Scallop with Celeriac smoke | Celery | Hazelnut | Largo

air. Corn-Fed Chicken Breast with Truffle Air foam | Corn Textures | Breadfruit

fire. Angus Prime Striploin, Short Rib | Pumpkin | Onion | Wild Spinach

The Vegetarian Option: Cauliflower Steak.

ice. Bush Tea, flavored like a Mojito ‘Gin-jito’

force. Piña Colada with Coconut | Pineapple | Rum

For our second day, we headed off to the nearby island of Nevis!

- At time of posting in Saint Kitts, it was 31 °C - Humidity: 72% | Wind Speed: 21km/hr | Cloud Cover: mostly sunny

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And We Manarola-long to Cinque Terre!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 22 Apr 2024 18:36:37 +0000

What a great morning to wake up in Roma!

It’s good to be back in Rome, even if it’s for a little bit. Craving for some good cheap local food this time, Paul, Mihaela and I headed to the food court within the Termini train station for brunch.

Then picking up our bags back at the lodging and checking out, we returned back to Termini for a 1:57pm train to La Spezia Centrale.

We arrived at La Spezia about 4 hours later and slightly delayed. Luckily for us, the 5:55pm train from La Speiza to Manarola was similarly delayed as well, allowing us to run and board it right in time before it departed.

3 stops later through multiple tunnels, we arrived at the heart of Cinque Terre at 6:05pm and where a long pedestrian tunnel from the train station to the town greeted us. During World War 2, the residents would spend the nights here for protection.

Just in time for golden hour.

Finding our Airbnb among the hills and windy streets of Manarola was like playing an Escape Room, but after a cute video sent to us by our host on WhatsApp, we quickly settled in and headed back out for a 4 minute walk for the classic iconic viewpoint that Cinque Terre has been famous for.

With the well-positioned bar Nessun Dorma closing early, we instead chose to have dinner at highly rated Trattoria de Billy. Specials today was a Lobster Tagliatelle and Truffle Tagliatelle pasta.

During our dinner it began to thunder and pour heavily with intense lightning storms in the distance. If I weren’t feeling so cold at this point and slightly feverish I would’ve thoroughly enjoyed the surreal nature of our experience: Cinque Terre at night, dining by the coast, lightning storms, great food, great company, unlimited hot tea….so we made the best of the wind chill with the conversations while also watching a woman at the table next to us pass out drunk a few times.

We stayed at the Trattoria until closing, but it was still pouring to the point of near flooding. So we made a run for it down the long steps back to our Airbnb and cozy’ed up with a very chill night enjoying listening to music and the raindrops pitter patter outside our windows. Although the lightning storm had taken out some of the power in our lodgings (thankfully our lights remained on), it finally settled down by 11pm and our host contacted us at 11:30pm to reset the breakers to bring the power back. Nevertheless, we were in bed by midnight.

We woke up the next morning at 7am and finally enjoyed doing nothing for once; no bus to catch, no train to catch, no place to see…that was nice. But by 1pm we were getting hungry. But after waiting too long to get inside Nessun Dorma on a second attempt, we instead had a great carb-heavy lunch at Bar Enrica:

We then wandered around town, climbing up the hills of Manarola:

There’s a church by the center before you hit the hiking trails:

Then after a good walk around, we made a third and last attempt to dine at Nessun Dorma; third time’s the charm!

Be wary of the portions here. The 3 of us could barely finish this:

After dinner we walked Mihaela back to the 6pm train to Florence for her morning flight home. Paul and I stayed behind, ordering gelato back at Casa Enrica and then headed back to our lodgings, turning in at 10pm. We would then wake up at 5am for a 6:32am train from Manarola to La Spezia, before boarding a one hour train to Pisa Centrale so I could catch my own flight back home via Brussels.

But before my flight and within an hour’s window, we tried to take a quick visit to the Tower of Pisa despite a morning full of rain. But even with storing our bags at left luggage at the train station, taking a quick train stop back and forth and looking for a way to reach the tower without getting soaked (and too proud to buy umbrellas), we figured it wasn’t worth missing my flight to Brussels. So we returned to Pisa Centrale station where I said goodbye to Paul — who’s crashing at my place anyway back in NYC in 2 days — and boarded my long voyage home where I saw the Tower of Pisa anyway from my airport window on takeoff. It always works out!

The return home: A whole United Polaris row to myself!

- At time of posting in Manarola, it was 22 °C - Humidity: 51% | Wind Speed: 13km/hr | Cloud Cover: stormy, rainy, wet, and gray

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Leptis Magna-facent!

Calvin Sun — Sat, 20 Apr 2024 03:48:50 +0000

If a photo looks professionally taken, then that credit goes to Paul Woo or Francois DeAsis (check the @FJD in the bottom right corner)

For our last full day in Tripoli, our drive 2 hours east of Tripoli took us to Libya’s crown jewel of Leptis Magna. Our roadside coffee today involved a little bit of cake among intense discussions about allergies and geopolitics:

If you don’t know already, Leptis Magna was a prominent city from both the Carthaginian Empire and Roman Libya, second only to Rome at the time.

First founded as a Punic settlement before 500 BC, Leptis Manga became a Phoenician trading port that prospered for over 1000 years. It then expanded when one of its very own, Septimius Severus, reigned as the Emperor of the Roman Empire.

This impressive structure that welcomes you to Leptis Magna is the very Arch of Septimius Severus, which the Emperor had commissioned upon his visit to Leptis Magna as Emperor in 203 AD.

Words can’t express the majesty of the arch’s size relative to the ruins around it.

Then after the decline of the Roman Empire, the city became weakened by Berber raids, eventually falling to the Muslims in 647 AD and subsequently abandoned.

The city remained buried for over 1300 years until it was unearthed, rediscovered, and excavated by the Italians in 1920 during Italy’s occupation of Libya.

We began our walk through the Hadrianus baths.

The public toilets remain intact and sturdy as ever.

Past the baths we continued down the central Via Trionfale with the Chalcidicum and entry to the former basilica to our left.

We then passed the colonnade . . .

. . . and arrived at the marketplace.

Curious local Libyan onlookers asked us to take a photo with us here. Being that this was a marketplace, we debated whether to charge and haggle them for one, but I guess the first one’s on the house.

Fish were sorted and sold on these table inserts:

We found some little indentations in the floor meant to be used to play games. So we played our game.

Turn the corner west and the theater will be on your left:

Continuing onwards towards the sea, we reached the street where sex workers had made their trade.

Once we reached the coast, we took it all in. The waves crash particularly hard here, contributing to the understanding of how barren history always leaves human civilizations behind. The feelings here also reminded me of how the limbo dream stage was portrayed in the movie Inception.

We then turned towards the old forum:

Climbing up to the very top of the ruins, we were awestruck by the vastness of the complex.

An old basilica borders this complex and on the other are smaller temples dedicated to Hercules, Augustus, and Roma:

Find the creepy arch bearing the 6 heads of Medusa in the middle of the ruins.

We spent almost 2 hours wandering Leptis Magna and then boarded back onto our bus to have a traditional lamb lunch at a local Libyan restaurant.

Afterwards, we regrouped for one final stop at the Amphitheater Circus outside of Leptis Magna.

You can walk inside one of the walls from the bottom to reach the other side and the coastline:

As you exit the amphitheater and look behind you, your brain may do loops trying to figure out how truly big this structure is and has been built into the Earth. Or is it the other way around?

Returning back to Tripoli, we skipped a sunset shisha session by the coast and had an early final meal at a local restaurant where we chose various freshly caught fish on the ground floor for them to cook as dinner:

To be honest, as varied as we tried to make our choices, they did a decent job in grilling everything to look and taste the same to the point we couldn’t discern which was which:

We also took this time to celebrate Francois with a surprise birthday cake! For some reason just like Sampson back in Syria, Francois would celebrate his very birthday on and in the middle of our monsoon.

Seeing that we had booked an 8:10am flight out to Tunis the next morning ahead of time, we chose to turn in early at 10pm to get in our sleep for a 5am wake up call and ride to the airport at 5:30am.

Once Badran assisted us past the initial security all the way to check-in and then to the second security screening, we said goodbye to him, our driver, and our 2 minders.

Just as when we entered Libya, they make us as foreigners wait for all the Libyans stamp through first before finally stamping us out. Be mindful of this if you’re running late to your flight.

There’s a smoking room and decent sized public snack bar at the departures lounge with a very long line in front of it. Not having any local dinars to use we headed straight to our gate to board our flight.

After an uneventful hour departing Libya and landing back in Tunis, we stamped back into Tunisia, reorganized our money to take out Tunisian dinars, and agreed collectively to hail 2 cabs on the Bolt app for brunch at the Four Seasons in Tunis’ upscale Gammarth neighborhood.

20 minutes later, we were reconnected back to the Western world of opulence and excess after 5 sobering and authentic days in Libya:

Saying our sad goodbyes one by one to Corinna, Francois, and Leshawn one by one after breakfast, Paul, Mihaela and I hung back to cram in a tight fitting and last minute one hour hamamm treatment at the Four Seasons.

I negotiated what was originally supposed to be a single opening to accommodate all 3 of us within 2 hours before we’d have to run to catch a 6:30pm flight from Tunis to Rome!

We then landed in Rome at 9pm local time, stamping back into the EU and hailed an Uber. I first dropped them both off so they could make it to a 9:45pm reservation that Paul had booked a week ago (without asking, lol) at Salumeria Con Cucina Roscioli. I then asked my cab driver to continue onwards on a new fare to take all our bags up to an Airbnb I had reserved next to Roma Termini train station.

Surprised that both the Airbnb host Agapi and the cab driver would help me up with the bags up to our lodgings, I checked in and charmed the host to then drive me back to the restaurant where Paul and Mihaela had already ordered ahead for me.

Wow, this is why I wait to have Italian food until I’m back in Italy.

Paul then took us for a walk in the cold city streets for a 1:00am reservation at the Jerry Lewis Project speakeasy:

I was back in bed and totally out by 2am. It’s been a very very long day.

- At time of posting in Leptis Magna, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 64% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and breezy

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Sabratha-ised to Be Here?

Calvin Sun — Thu, 18 Apr 2024 19:40:36 +0000

If a photo looks professionally taken, then that credit goes to Paul Woo or Francois DeAsis (check the @FJD in the bottom right corner)

On our third day in Libya and from Tripoli we had breakfast and took another tour around the old town for Corinna (who had missed it as she arrived late on the first day) and then the Red Castle. Afterwards we then began our way towards 2 hours northwest to Sabratha – one of the most important historical sites in Libya.

The city dates back to 500BC and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Among the numerous scattered houses of worship, forums, bathhouses, and saunas . . .

. . . Sabratha’s best maintained areas outside the colosseum, would be the Mausoleum off to the side when you first enter . . .

. . . and the centrally located Temple of Bacchus.

Trying to set up for our first official group photo can be difficult here. After all, when else are you ever going to have the chance at gallivanting among 2500+ year old ruins?

It’s easy to get distracted at a place like this.

Especially by the sturdiness of their public toilets:

The Phoenicians and Romans previously had settled in and used Sabratha as a seaport, which scenery reminded me of the seaside Roman-era ruins we had stumbled upon in Sardinia:

The incredible mosaics here are all original with some of the original colors still intact.

We ended our 2 hour visit at the majestic Sabratha Theatre.

The best way to enter is via the stage first:

The Sabratha Theater

Dating back to 175 CE, it could hold up to 10,000 spectators.

sabratha

The reliefs here are all original and unrestored.

And unlike Bosra, which is majestic in its own right, the backstage here leads to the sea and the columns are intact all the way to the third floor. That made all the difference for us.

The theater is the show in of itself

After 2 hours exploring and having a fried chicken lunch by Sabratha, we returned back to Tripoli where we stopped for a quick peek of an example of a pipeline segment of the Great Man-Made River: the world’s largest network of underground rivers, pipelines and aqueducts.

They take high-quality fresh water from ancient underground aquifers deep in the Sahara to the coast of Libya for domestic use, agriculture, and industry.

We then kicked back at my favorite terrace café so far in Tripoli:

… and the best hummus and Lebanese dining I’ve had outside of Lebanon at Fattoush Lebanese Restaurant:

17 total views
, 3 views today

- At time of posting in Sabratha, it was 20 °C - Humidity: 69% | Wind Speed: 24km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and perfect

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Keep Calm and Gharyan!

Calvin Sun — Thu, 18 Apr 2024 02:45:17 +0000

If a photo looks professionally taken, then that credit goes to Paul Woo or Francois DeAsis (check the @FJD in the bottom right corner)

From Jebel Nafusa we drove an hour to Gharyan, considered the centre of Libyan resistance against the Italian invasion in the early 20th century.

The locals here had protested strongly against Gaddafi where they then suffered heavy bombardment by the Gaddafi forces. On May 2011, the Gaddafi’s forces had shut down the water system and blocked food supply to the town. Rebels stood their ground and continued fighting against any resistance which finally led them to victory against countless tanks, artillery guns and snipers.

Today Gharyan has a population of over 85,000 and produces olive oil, flour, carpet weaving, and pottery. It is also unique for being home to over 3,000 cave homes dug vertically underground, each housing up to 8-10 families at the time.

They are known as Troglodyte caves. A grandson of the last surviving family to have lived in one of them invited us to show us around.

The platform in the middle is a communal courtyard covering an even deeper pit of rocks where the all the food scraps (aka bones of consumed animals by the troglodytes) are tossed in. Ants are then attracted to the bones and food scraps, digging their own holes and their own little cave dwellings in the bones and rocks in the pit. As time goes by after every rainfall, the rainwater drains into the pit and tiny little ant holes and before you know it, the pit is dry again!

Thus a sustainable cycle repeats.

The one we visited was home to 8 other families and now is being converted to a museum and hotel.

The family now lives in a fancy above-ground mansion that overlooks all the land that they own. They have it pretty good here!

After an hour here, we returned back to Tripoli for dinner at our hotel.

- At time of posting in Gharyan, it was 25 °C - Humidity: 20% | Wind Speed: 30km/hr | Cloud Cover: desert

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The Jebel Alliance Take the Nafusa Mountains

Calvin Sun — Wed, 17 Apr 2024 19:43:14 +0000

If a photo looks professionally taken, then that credit goes to Paul Woo or Francois DeAsis (check the @FJD in the bottom right corner)

For our second day in Libya, we woke up at 8am for free (and surprisingly hearty) breakfast on the rooftop of our hotel.

We then began our 2.5 hour drive southwest of Tripoli to Jebel Nafusa / Nafusa Mountains.

On the way there, we stopped for an espresso shot as a rest stop.

There’s a tank memorial between Tripoli and the Nafusa mountains, remnants of a battle here during the Libyan civil wars between rebel groups and Gaddafi’s forces.

I appreciate this form of recycling.

Across the street from the memorial, our guide was proud to show off the low gas prices here. This is oil country!

Our destination mountain (aka the meaning of “Jebel”) in Libya rises abruptly from the desert of Jefara/Sahel Jefara to a height of over 968 meters, leading us to the heartland of the Berber people of Libya and best represented by the 12th century fortified granary of Qasr al-Haj.

It’s tinier than the photos online make it seem.

Walking in past the foyer and mini-museum that shows all the tools used for the granary . . .

. . . you can say we felt like we walked into a small colosseum of trade. The intersections of multiple trade routes and caravans met here to exchange grain and food:

Serving as the granary for families from the surrounding area in return for quarter of their crops, this structure would be endowed as a waqf for teaching the Qur’an and Islamic related subjects to the local Berbers of the area.

There are 114 chambers in all, suggesting that there were either 114 families that subscribed to the usage of this granary when it was built, or used symbolically to reflect the number of Sura in the Qur’an. The latter theory has been generally accepted by villagers in the region nowadays.

There are currently 119 chambers after 5 were split into 10 due to inheritance disputes. Other changes since its initial construction include the addition of 29 cellars.

Even without handrails to keep you steady, you can climb to the top and hug the walls to walk the entire circumference of the granary:

Do(n’t) look down!

We then walked a few paces over from the granary to Tarmeisa/Etermessn.

Termeisa is an ancient stone Berber village that reminded me a lot of the one we’d find in Mauritania:

Don’t miss the Arabic and the universal Berber sign inscribed into the walls:

The edge of the village ruins clings off a narrow rocky outcrop overlooking a spectacular view of the Sahel/Desert Al Jefara:

As far as the eye can see:

Reminds me of the Edge of the World in Saudi Arabia:

We then stopped at a local villager’s house for a splendid carb-heavy Berber stew for lunch.

This meal is about to make us one big happy family.

Wait, let me get that tea for you…

After lunch we continued on to Gharyan.

- At time of posting in Jebel Nafusa, it was 25 °C - Humidity: 50% | Wind Speed: 19km/hr | Cloud Cover: desert clarity

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Call The Tripoli-ce!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 17 Apr 2024 03:38:18 +0000

If a photo looks professionally taken, then that credit goes to Paul Woo or Francois DeAsis (check the @FJD in the bottom right corner)

It started normally just like any other monsoon: Get to JFK Terminal 1 early to check out all the lounges I can have access to, beginning with 10 minutes at the VIP One lounge on Priority Pass to skip the security line and have a quick lentil soup and salad there.

After security, I walked over to Lufthansa Business which access I had again after redeeming 80,000 miles from Chase Ultimate Rewards to United Airlines to acquire an Austrian Airlines Business Class flight (from JFK-VIE-FRA). Another salad and assorted veggies for dinner..

20 minutes later I ended at the Primeclass Lounge on my Priority Pass, which also happens to be located right by our departure gate. Enjoyed an assortment of dessert baclava before boarding.

Then after a half an hour delay we boarded for my first time on Austrian Airlines’ slightly renovated business class seat. My last transatlantic business class flight with them was probably 6 years ago.

AND THEN 8 hours later while catching up with Daniela in the 2 hours I had at Vienna airport (leaving my bags at the lounge across from the airport café we met up at) . . .

. . . this one deserves to be clicked on and zoomed in:

Did you read it all in the big photo above? A random lounge photo (the Primeclass one back in JFK) I had posted on Instagram leads to someone I’ve never met IN THAT PHOTO to message me about seeing himself on my social media …and this is crazy part if it isn’t already … LITERALLY MINUTES AFTER I had joked with Daniela in Vienna ABOUT HOW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN IN MINUTES.

Sure people can accidentally end up in my photos, and sure these things happen all the time, but to chat with a serendipitously made friend about serendipities and how they’ve been occurring at a consistently more frequent rate, even half-joking how “like minutes after we say goodbye I might as well get a text about someone else running into me” …AND LIKE A SNAP OF MY FINGERS THAT VERY THING HAPPENS WITHIN MINUTES AFTER SAYING GOODBYE? WTF.

It gets wilder: Before all of this even happened, Daniela had pointed out in a study that had first been mentioned to me on my last monsoon 2 months ago in Hokkaido (I was bringing it up first and she interrupted me stating she already knew about it!) that there is already a science behind people who identify as “lucky”: they tend to be extroverted, make eye contact with strangers better, be optimistic, not identify as neurotic or anxious, try new things more, trust the unknown more, are open to “noticing” things in the periphery more, etc. etc.

…and I get that. But here’s some of the rub with this one: I’m from NYC; I don’t do eye contact with strangers. I also do identify as slightly anxious and neurotic as it’s part of my job as an ER doctor. I’ve been equal introverted with extroverted these days (so why is it happening more frequently the less extroverted I get?). I definitely didn’t engage with the guy in the photo (his back was to me the whole time!). We also never made eye contact, and there was no basis between our “interaction” (or lack thereof) that would compel me to mention to Daniela how someone I never knew was going to text me in minutes. But yes, I do lean on optimistic, try new things all the time, and I do trust the unknown.

But still, Daniela texts me afterwards there’s a method to my madness that makes what I have been doing, how I have been living, and let alone monsooning…special. She’s an intrinsic part of that (which I guess also makes her biased). But if serendipity can be a choice and if it’s already happening over and over and over and over, why not choose to accept magic?

After Vienna, I landed in Frankfurt where I had 24 hours to myself and ponder all of this.

A whole long 24 hour layover because my noon onward flight to Tunisia would be delayed by another 4 hours where I’d depart literally the same time I had landed the day before. So taking off at 4:30pm, I landed at Tunis airport (good to back; exactly 7 years has passed since I was last here!) where I then hailed a cab with the Bolt app to a hotel Mihaela had booked.

There with a spirited walk from Tunis’ more modern city center into the deserted evening alleyways of the old medina, I finally met up with the monsooners who who have been here for a few days and hanging out without me. Leshawn got there first, then Mihaela and Letti, and then Francis. It’s a reunion!

Then as we were enjoying our evening in the Tunis medina, we got word from Paul that Corinna was about to miss her onward flight from Frankfurt to Tunis because of an initial delay with her London to Frankfurt flight. Using Francois’ Flightradar app to track her position and Paul already at the gate in Frankfurt ready to hold things up for her, we sadly were provided a real-time account of her missing the flight anyway by mere minutes. She would have to be rebooked the next afternoon on a 2:30pm flight to Tunis from Frankfurt, and then rebooked on a later 6:10pm evening LibyanWings flight into Tripoli.

With our local guide’s assurances that this was still okay and our group did not necessarily have to fly in together anymore (we had been told earlier that flying in and out separately wasn’t possible for prior tour groups visiting Libya), Corinna went ahead with the rebooking. She was about to change her plans to party in Berlin if the whole trip was going to be a sunk cost for her.

Letti, on the other hand, sadly still had not received her final approval for her e-visa into Libya, and therefore had to reroute to Malta instead for her 100th country. She was supposed to then reunite with us in Italy after we’d return from Libya, but then also changed her mind to add on Andorra after Malta before returning home. Never had a trip casualty like this before. 🙁 Libya tourism has its risks.

The rest of us with our fresh visas for Libya, headed back to the TUN airport at 7am to check into our LibyanWings flight at the counter. Paul, having taken the hotel Corinna had booked for them the night before, joined us shortly afterwards. As he was checking in for his flight, I sprinted to the LibyanWings sales counter on the opposite side of check-in and successfully moved Corinna’s LibyanWings flight from our 9:10am flight to a later 6:10pm flight for only 32 dinars!

After stamping out of Tunisia and entering international airside, we loaded up on coffee at the only open Priority Pass lounge at departures (where Leshawn also ran into a few mutual friends there!) before boarding the 9:20am Libyan Wings flight from TUN airport in Tunis.

As the capital city of Libya, Tripoli also has regular connections mostly from Tunis, Istanbul, and occasionally in Africa, Europe and the Middle East.

We began boarding on time at 8:50pm:

Embarking was relatively straightforward with nobody at the gate checking if we had the appropriate passports or visas.

LibyanWings quickly serves a banging egg-cheese burrito during its sub-hour flight.

Views of Tripoli if you sit on the right side:

Views of Tripoli if you sit on the left side:

We landed nearly less than an hour later at 11:30am local time in Tripoli (which is an hour ahead of Tunisia):

After disembarking we were corralled into a single bus to take us to the terminal.

Once we arrived at the terminal, we took a quick leak at the bathroom before committing ourselves to the long wait on the left side. There is no WiFi at this terminal so we had to enjoy each other’s actual, physical company.

And let the wait begin! As we had been warned by prior groups who had recent visited, foreign non-Libyan tourists would likely be left to the end and parted off to the side as they get all the local Libyans through (even those disembarking from other flights landing around the same time). Stick together as a group so it’ll be easier for them to process your passports.

Once you reach the desk where they then take your passports one by one, you wait some more as your tour guide will likely pop his head out to say you’re with them. Ours, named Badran, certainly did and right on cue once we reached the counters.

We then waited some more, as Badran headed into the office on our side of immigrations to process our tour permits.

After about 45 minutes we then were allowed through with our stamped visas, screening our carry-on luggage through an x-ray machine before reaching baggage claims.

As our prior payment to Badran’s company also included all food and meals, we eschewed changing our money and even getting e-SIM cards at arrivals in favor of Badran’s WiFi hotspot he’d provide us for the rest of our trip (to be fair, he didn’t leave much of a choice when asking).

As we left arrivals, we got onto our bus where we met our driver and 2 other minders for the week. One of them cheerily arranged a police convoy to clear traffic ahead for us.

With lights and sirens ahead and behind us to block off traffic for us, we took the brisk 15 minute drive to drop off our luggage and check in at Victoria Hotel, centrally located in the city with a splendid 8th floor rooftop restaurant and view:

After settling into our rooms, we returned to the lobby at 2pm for lunch at a nearby local fast-food restaurant. It seems only men dine here.

Once we picked out our dishes, we headed upstairs and hung out with the locals while waiting for our food to be prepared.

North African cuisine consists of mostly spicy sauces over couscous, vegetables, fish, lamb, and the occasional chicken.

After lunch we began our city tour and walk towards Algeria Square.

Every alleyway and intersection beckoned an invitation.

The square’s centerpiece is Algeria Square Mosque aka Jamal Abdul Nasser Mosque, formerly converted from what used to be the Tripoli Cathedral.

It has been open to the public since 2020.

This structure was originally constructed as a cathedral in the 1920s during the Italian Libya colonial era, and then converted into a mosque during Gaddafi’s rise to power in 1970s.

The local imam came out to greet us, welcoming us to Tripoli.

Right at the entrance, preparations for a wedding were beginning where we were each given boxes with a delicious array of chocolates, sweets, and an almond pistachio drink by the hosts!

There’s also an atmospheric café by the mosque you can enjoy a tea and shisha in.

Everywhere we walked locals took a passing curiosity to us as tourists in a country that haven’t had them in over a decade!

We then walked down the Italian quarter of Tripoli past ruins of places that could have belonged as a Galleria of Milan . . .

. . . to Martyr’s Square.

That white building with green windowpanes on the left is where Mussolini stood and and addressed the crowds.

Need some cash? They have a mobile banking van here. We don’t even have those!

Previously known as Independence or Green Square under Gaddafi, this square was built by the Italians during the colonial rule. But on the evening of August 21st, 2011, Libyan rebel groups took control of the area as part of the Battle of Tripoli.

Since then it has been renamed to Martyrs’ Square to dissociate the square from the Gaddafi government. Don’t miss the legendary fountain designed by an Italian architect at the centre of the square.

Martyr’s square lies outside not only the Italian quarter on one end but also the old city and medina . . .

. . . where the old city’s Ottoman style labyrinthine streets are filled with treasures and alleyways that recall the days of Roman, Italian and Turkish influences (or attempts at domination).

These streets run alive with history.

We came to the old city many times over the course of the next 4 days, even stopping by for coffee at a former hotel that has been converted into a café.

Also a great place to people watch.

The streets eventually come together at the “4 Columns” intersection, named after the unpreserved but still entirely intact (like you can touch them) Roman-era columns that remain here today, warts and all.

Turkey also has lent its influence in the many Ottoman-era mansions within the medina:

Namely one of those influences being the Karamanli house – built in the second half of the 18th century, during the reign of Ali Pasha Karamanli, and was used by Yousuf Pasha until his death. The house was restored during the early 1990s and became known as the Tripoli Historical Exhibition.

Can’t expect the UK to not also make a visit here? We then visited the Old British Consulate – originally built in 1744 as a residence for Ahmad al Karamanli. He donated it to the British Consulate, and it continued to serve that function until 1940. Since the 1990s it has housed a scientific library.

We then stopped at the Ottoman Clock Tower from the 19th century, which shares a resemblance of to the Dolmabahce Clock Tower in Istanbul.

It’s right next to the Libyan Central Bank where ironically all the black market money exchangers are situated. I was able to convert €60 to 480 LYD on the black market from a list price of 300 LYD — that’s a $30 USD bargain I just made from a single exchange!

With our new dinars we had 2 runs at shopping for local silver and gold at many of the souqs that are hidden in the old town of Tripoli. The trans-Sahara trading routes connected here within the Tripoli Vilayet and southern European Merchants ships.

It was also here when the jetlag began to set in.

There’s a converted hotel pool nearby that has now become a frat-style shisha café (imagine the possibility of jumping off its 2nd floor balcony into the pool):

We then stopped for another espresso at the Santa Maria church square, home to the Banco di Roma building:

The Roman Empire’s arch, namely the Arch of Marcus Aurelius, marked the end of our walking tour of Tripoli.

Built in 163 AD, the triumphal arch of Marcus Aurelius is Tripoli’s most impressive ancient monument. Best time to visit is sunset.

It is located at the intersection of the Cardo and Decumanus and marks the exact centre of the Roman city.

Even more remarkable is how there are no gates or admission fees; you can even climb on all the Roman ruins scattered around the arch if you wanted to. Or dance.

And to finish off our first night, we dined at the Turkish Sultan Ahmed for dinner while we waited for Corinna to fly in on her later flight to complete our group!

On our third day of the trip we were allowed inside the Red Castle, or the Red Fort of Tripoli, located on the waterfront of Tripoli and bordering Martyrs’ Square.

The castle is shaped as an imperfect square with sides of unequal length: 115 meters (north-east), 90 meters (north-west), 130 meters (south-west), and 140 meters (south-east) covering about 13,000 square meters. It housed a small village inside with buildings and courtyards within its walls.

Likely founded in the era of the Phoenicians in the 7th century BCE; excavations have discovered remains that hail all the way back to the Roman Empire.

Probably the only place outside of Babylon where you can find mosaics thousands and thousands of years old just lying there against the wall.

We then went upstairs to the top of the castle that overlooks Martyr’s Square and where Gaddafi and his sons made addresses to their people.

No better spot to discuss the current political situation in Libya.

It is also home to Libya’s Department of Archaeology and world-class National Museum which has been closed since 2011 and is about to reopen in 2 months from the date of this posting!

On our fourth and second to last day of our trip, we stopped by Tripoli’s fish market in the morning.

Like in Mogadishu, it had no shame in catching and serving up sharks.

But unlike Mogadishu it was extremely orderly and clean.

My favorite parts of Tripoli, however, were the evenings where we’d wander off without Badran and our minders, looking for desserts and tea in the vicinity of our hotel.

We’d enjoy the chagrin of countless bystanders seeing tourists for the first time in years.

- At time of posting in Tripoli, it was 20 °C - Humidity: 30% | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: clear

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The Tourist Visa & E-Visa For Libya for USA Passports

Calvin Sun — Mon, 01 Apr 2024 14:43:23 +0000

One month we’re going somewhere straightforward, the other…emerging tourism in more off-the-beaten-path destinations like Libya. So what does it take to be one of the first Westerners to be issued visas as visitors and tourists?

We first submitted copies of our passport front page to our local tour agency at least 3 months ahead of the trip, whereupon after an extended nail-biting wait for over 2 months since, we finally received the following documents from our sponsor approximately 3 weeks before the beginning of the trip:

Visa code
Hotel voucher
Confirmation document of your tour

We printed all 3 documents and included them along with the following other printed documents we had already prepared ahead of time:

Our USA passports valid for 6 months
Filled out and signed (in black ink) visa application form on the https://www.embassyoflibyadc.org visa site
$160 Money Order (can obtain from bank or US Post Office) to “Embassy of Libya”
Prepaid envelope from FedEx, UPS, or USPS with tracking number and your return address label filled out
A recent passport-size (2×2 inch) color photograph with a white background
- (photographs must be full-face shots in which the applicant is facing the camera directly. Side or angle views are NOT accepted).

We then placed all the aforementioned in an Express same-day envelope via Fedex, USPS, or UPS and mailed it all to the Libyan Embassy on 1460 Dahlia NW Washington, DC 20012. At the same time I also e-mailed our 2×2 passport photos to our agency to finalize permits within the country.

Within 72 hours aka a single day turnaround I got my visa back! The timing was

Day 1 Tuesday 6am – Visa code, hotel voucher, and confirmation document of my tour emailed over
Day 1 Tuesday 8am – Email received when I woke up, printed, and placed in envelope
Day 1 Tuesday 10:30am – Shipped via FedEx Priority Overnight
Day 2 Wednesday 10:30am – Documents delivered to the Libyan Embassy
Day 3 Thursday 2:21pm – Documents shipped out from the Libyan Embassy with my passport inside self-addressed envelope
Day 4 Friday 11:57am – My passport returned to my address with my new visa inside!

After having received our visas, we then booked our flights arriving and leaving the country. As per their regulations, we all had to be on the same flight coming in and out so we chose the following LibyanWings flights:

Arrival: Tunis TUN to Tripoli TIP 16th of April 09:20 – 11:30 YL0801
Departure: Tripoli TIP to Tunis TUN 20th of April 08:10 – 08:20 YL0800

Letti, however, due to a mixup with passports where the info for her primary passport was sent where she had meant for it to apply to her newer second passport, opted instead to try the new e-visa program that Libya just rolled out as of this week as a backup option:

Head to their new E-visa website: https://evisa.gov.ly/
Create a new account and login using an OTP code that will be emailed to your email address
Complete application form
Upload a .jpg visa photo of yourself with a white background. File must be under 1MB
Upload your .jpg passport photo, File must be under 2MB
Pay with credit card where the e-visa fee is $68USD
Your visa is valid from 90 days upon the issuing date.
Once your visa is ready you will be notified by email and can download the visa PDF document.

Some tips to note while filling the e-visa website application:

When entering your answers into the text box including addresses do not enter commas, apostrophes or numbers in addresses. Only letters and spaces.
If you have entered in a field incorrectly it will give you a ‘system busy’ error message. Review what you have entered and ensure Tip #1 has been followed.
Your middle name may include your parents name on the visa – this is due to Libyan naming convention with how locals are named. This will not be an issue.

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Meet the Monsooners to Libya!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 11 Mar 2024 17:32:47 +0000

Like Syria, it’s a great life where even if I’m heading to a place like Libya, a wonderful group of great people will always come along. It has happened before, it has happened again, and again, and it is happening again. People who follow through. People who prove themselves by following through.

So once more, 6 exceptional, self-actualized, forward thinking, culturally competent, and socially conscious individuals — 5 of whom have traveled with me before — are joining me for an experience where 99% of the world would’ve otherwise looked the other way.

. . . And I’m especially grateful to those returning with me for their 2nd, 5th, or even 19th monsoon:

Mihaela “Compass”: 18 time monsooner (across at least 30 countries!) to Syria, Trans-Mongolian (Mongolia to China), Tibet, Scotland, the Balkans, the Persian Gulf, Luxembourg, Slovenia, Armenia, Egypt, USA, Cyprus, Sardinia, Saudi Arabia, Iraq & Jordan, Vancouver, the Horn of Africa, and The French Polynesia
Paul “The Shaman” Woo: a 4 time monsooner returning from The Canary Islands, The Greek Epic, South Korea and St. Lucia & Martinique
Letti Hale: returning from The Gulf of Guinea
Francis Deasis: returning from Syria
Leshawn Anderson: returning from Syria

Once again, I introduce our monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain My Captain" Sun - Expedition Leader | NYC

Paul "Shaman" Woo – Returning Monsooner: Nov. '23 (Canary Islands), Jul. '23 (Greece YW & Tomorrowland), Jan. '22 (St. Lucia & Martinique) | Photographer | OH

Francis "Francois" DeAsis - Returning Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria) | Miami | Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation Physician

Mihaela "Compass" K. - Lieutenant, Senior Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Oct. '21 (Saudi Arabia), Sept.'21 (Sardinia/Corsica), Jun '21 (Cyprus), Aug. '20 (USA), Dec. '19 (Egypt), Nov. '18 (Armenia), June '18 (The Persian Gulf), Oct. '17 (Slovenia), Aug. '17 (The Balkans), May '17 (Luxembourg), Mar. '17 (Scotland), Jan. '17 (Mongolia & Tibet), May '23 (Horn of Africa) | NYC | Cytologist, Mt. Sinai

Leshawn "Electric Slide" Anderson - Returning Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria) | NJ

Letti Hale - Returning Monsooner: Winter '23 (The Gulf of Guinea) | Dentist | Las Vegas

Corinna A. - Alexa Capital | London, UK

And where we’re actually monsooning to next month:

Tripoli, Libya

Jebel Nafusa, Libya

Sabratha, Libya

Leptis Magna, Libya

Still interested in joining us? More details about the trip can be found here.

And space is still available! Accepting non-USA passport holders only; USA passport deadline has passed, although exceptions may apply. Inquire within: calvin[at]monsoondiaries[dot]com.

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Conjuring Some Majuro-ic

Calvin Sun — Sun, 03 Mar 2024 17:06:38 +0000

After we took off from Pohnpei, we continued on United Airlines’ island hopper Flight 133, which flies on Sundays and Wednesdays.

Pro-tip: if you fly on the Wednesday schedule, you’ll be lucky to add on a stop in Kosrae, another island of the Micronesia island hopping airport chain (photos by Francis DeAsis, who was with us in Syria last September, will be joining us on our upcoming trip to Libya, and who had taken this island hopper in reverse only a week prior!):

After that it’s Micronesia’s last stop at Kwajalein, home to Bucholz Army Airfield.

Unlike on the other islands on the island hopper you are not allowed to take photos outside as the airport is US military through and through. That said, unless you have special permission to disembark here as military personnel or an invited guest of the US military, you are also not allowed to leave the aircraft while the plane stops to refuel here.

Ah Majuro, it’s good to be back after 4 years!

Like in Pohnpei, you can get off in Majuro as well for a quick transit on the group and an exit/entry stamp.

Not sure how much has changed since I last visited here.

Since I had already have stayed in Majuro before, getting off the plane was not as necessary for me, but I wanted to check it out because…nostalgia. But I eschewed the stamp this time and headed straight to the transit area.

The departures gate staff here are so relaxed you can step outside for fresh air and enjoy a banging sunset before boarding.

At this point due to all the standby for upgrades on all my segments, I suddenly received multiple e-mails (upon immediately connecting to the airport WiFi) that United Airlines had both reconfirmed AND cancelled my itineraries at the same time, as well as saying my checked luggage would be rerouted as far back as Pohnpei (even though my AirTags said they were with us on the tarmac in Majuro).

Confused at receiving all these e-mails, I went up to the gate agent to clarify what was happening. She also appeared confused. Then when she looked up my name, she saw two double booked itineraries: one was as is in all economy as it was, and the others were all on standby for upgrades to United First.

As she sorted out some technical wizardry to make sure I’d stay on this flight AND also be upgraded (woohoo!), I could hear her muttering how she wished I had come up to her sooner at the gate. When I sheepishly admitted that I had just gotten off the island hopper flight from Guam and had not been coming through security from Majuro, she made an even more confused look why I would do such a thing. I then just smiled at her.

We then boarded half an hour later than scheduled.

Then enduring an another half an hour delay where the plane was deemed too heavy, they offloaded some cargo and we were then able to depart. Thank goodness for the upgrade because this United First meal of salmon was excellent.

Once landing at 3am local Honolulu time (technically normal for us as it would be 11pm where we were coming from in Micronesia time), we retrieved our bags and headed out to hail an airport cab for a 4 minute drive to the nearby Airport Honolulu Hotel. They allowed late checkout at noon so the plan was to sleep in 4am-12pm noon (8 hours! 12am-8am Micronesia time!) but for some reason I felt wide wide wide awake despite getting only 2-3 hours of sleep on the flight to Honolulu.

So I caught up on blogposts, including this very one, before I finally got a little sleepy and napped from 8:30am-10:30am local Honolulu time. And this was with 3 cups of coffee in me already!

Eschewing the late checkout offer, Stephanie also happened to be up and we both agreed to check out at 11am and leave for our respective accommodations closer to the city center. I got a room at the Ala Moana Hotel via an Airbnb booking and she was staying at the Alohilani Resort Hotel via an AMEX Hotel Collections booking (which I need to learn more about).

I think the lightning booking at the Ala Moana Hotel was one of the best accidental bookings I’ve ever done.

This complex has everything I needed including a nearly full service gym, wet sauna, dry sauna, a big outdoor pool, open cabanas to relax in, and a combined spa/hair salon/massage studio/café all on the 3rd floor. It also is right next door to the Ala Moana Mall, which has even more stuff in its uniquely outdoor environment that got me hooked on window shopping while walking around.

Even better its central location allowed me to catch up with Isaiah from our Wales roadtrip monsoon last year!

He took me and Stephanie (who came back just to hang) to Magic Island which is a 5 minute walk away from Ala Moana.

Afterwards with a random callout on Instagram to see who was also around, Mary from my Australia and New Zealand roadtrip quickly reached out, saying she also had just landed in Honolulu at the same time I did! She was coming from New York for a 10 day remote work trip and furthermore, she was staying right next door to me at her friend’s Stefanie’s apartment. What are the odds for both timing AND place?

So for us to catch up it was a quick 5 minute walk for the both of us to catch up at Debu:

It was great to see you again after all these years!

- At time of posting in Majuro, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 80% | Wind Speed: 35km/hr | Cloud Cover: slightly windy, clear

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The Pohnpei That Survived The Volcano

Calvin Sun — Sun, 03 Mar 2024 16:54:36 +0000

After new passengers from Chuuk boarded, I finally got my chance to pee as they close the bathrooms during landing for cleaning. Delayed gratification.

We then forged ahead to Pohnpei, taking off at 12:10pm. I recommend sitting on the right side when landing if heading east from TKK to PNI.

Not to be confused with Pompeii of Italy, Pohnpei is Micronesia’s largest island and home to Palikir, its capital. After an eventful flight from Guam to Chuuk on United Airlines #133 island hopper, this leg was far more chill.

Enjoying business class with my glass of whiskey as long as I could on this 1 hour and 10 minute flight, I unbuckled at the last minute to head to the last row for unobstructed views of Pohnpei islands.

We then landed at 2:30pm local time after an hour and 10 minutes in the air.

Unlike Chuuk and Kwajalein, even if your final destination isn’t Pohnpei, you can disembark in their airport for a quick turnaround stamp in and out, and to enjoy the (relatively) elaborate gift shop in the transit area. As long as you take all your cabin luggage with you when you do that, they’re all fine with it.

So I did just that, taking advantage of heading out to get a quick exit and entry stamp just for the story.

But instead of continuing on in immigrations into baggage claims, the immigrations officer said I could turn back into the transit area at the gate without having to go through security.

This gave me extra time to enjoy the gift shop. Pohnpei is known for their local pepper.

I also purchased two boxed sets of cookies for the flight attendants Dee and Kristy, who were really wonderful to work with during another passenger’s medical emergency earlier on the trip.

We only had about 20 minutes in the transit/departures gate at Pohnpei before we reboarding our flight:

Once reboarded, I found I was only upgraded only for the prior leg of the trip and I had to return to my originally assigned seat in row 32. I didn’t mind since that meant I didn’t have to move for photos when we’d land in Kosrae, Kwajalein, or Majuro 2 hours later.

The ground staff waves you goodbye at Pohnpei, which I felt was a nice touch.

- At time of posting in Pohnpei, it was 24 °C - Humidity: 76% | Wind Speed: 32km/hr | Cloud Cover: partly cloudy

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Onboard the Choo-Chuuk Plane

Calvin Sun — Sun, 03 Mar 2024 16:53:47 +0000

Here we go! I finally get to experience the United Airlines famed Pacific island hopper in the other direction after taking a part of it 4 years ago.

Probably the most burning question is where to sit:

If you’re flying from GUM to HNL (eastwards), sit on the right side for all the legs and then switch to the left side when departing and landing in MAJ.

If you’re flying HNL to GUM (westwards), begin on the right side from HNL to MAJ, and then switch to the left side for all the rest of the legs until GUM.

Departing from Guam at 9:20am, we enjoyed 2 hours in the air with a quick snack in between.

Just as I was finishing up reading the last paragraph of the book I had packed along with me on this trip (Hua Hsu’s “Stay True”) Stephanie summoned me to the front of the plane saying they needed me. It took me a few seconds to realize she meant my doctor hat, the side I had long forgotten about the past 2 weeks while on the road. Shuddering to think I would repeat the last time I had to force land the plane in Halifax because of someone going through hemorrhagic shock from a spontaneous abortion, I unbuckled and walked up as fast as I could towards the cockpit.

A girl in her 20s, whom I had just saw a few minutes ago trying to go to the bathroom in the back of the plane (only to be directed to the front instead because of the galley cart that was still serving drinks), was seen to have passed out. While being held upright in the attendant’s jumper seat next to the cockpit, she appeared pale and lurching side to side like a ragdoll. Reflexes immediately kicked in when I tried to wake her up with a sternal rub. She responded to that, immediately coming to and made the universal gesticulation that she wanted to vomit. I then asked for alcohol swabs, an emesis bag, a pair of latex gloves, BP cuff, and a fingerstick with blood glucose monitor (if they had that). I was given everything but the latter.

While keeping her awake by peppering her with questions, I put on the gloves and placed the alcohol wipe underneath her nose. With a huff of the alcohol wipe the color returned to her face. She was able to say her name, where she was, what destination she was going (Majuro), what she was going for (work), what month it was, the date, and that she was from China. She was able to speak to me in both English and Mandarin. I responded back in kind. Then I took her blood pressure: 73/52. Her heart rate was in the 70s. Her respiratory rate was in the 20s. She said she felt like she also wanted to go number 2 and that she suspected it was a couple of take out Burger King patties she had eaten 6 hours prior while on the way to Guam Airport. She denied any medical history, surgical history, or fever. I was suspecting a vasovagal or orthostatic hypotensive event due to gastroenteritis and third spacing from volume loss.

Because of her initially low blood pressure and that she was repeatedly passing out on me, I laid her flat on the jumper seat and asked one of the flight attendants, Dee, to first elevate her legs to bring blood back to her vital organs and then hold her her legs flat so I could perform an abdominal exam: she elicited tenderness on the right side. I then became worried about appendicitis, let alone undifferentiated hypotension in the context of syncope, so I told the captain she may need medical attention when we landed in half an hour in Chuuk. And since we only had an hour on the ground before we would have to take off again (island hoppers have to stick to a strict schedule), it would be better to call it early so we wouldn’t be grounded into overtime and therefore permanently.

During this time, she vomited once in the bag, and then asked to use the bathroom. I asked her to keep the door unlocked just in case. When she came out a few minutes later after having number 2’d, she huffed on the alcohol swab, after which I PO challenged her with a glass of water. She said with that, she began to feel much better. She continued to drink more water at my encouragement and more color began to come back to her face. She said she was now “100%.” Suspicious that she simply didn’t want to be taken off the flight against our better judgement, I negotiated a compromise: she could be moved from the jumper to a regular seat, but next to the staff mechanic that always sits on the island hopper’s seat 7F.

I’d give him (thanks Vergil!) instructions what to look out for, when to call me, and to always keep her awake, make sure she kept sipping on water, and to huff on an alcohol wipe anytime she felt nauseous. Then she could be reassessed when a medical team came onboard after landing to determine whether she should stay on the flight.

After Vergil gave me the OK that my instructions were easy enough for him, I returned back to my seat to finish my book in its last sentences, after which my seatmate soon began chatting with me and identified herself as the Emily, the wife of the plane’s first officer who happened to want to join along this flight. Wow! What luck. I told her if I went up again to reassess the patient after landing, she and her husband could vouch for me in case they won’t let me and wrestle me to the ground instead.

We then landed at 11:10am local time in Chuuk International Airport (fun fact: originally built by Japan!) where we were told wait until medical personnel came onboard to reassess the patient. But none of the passengers listened and hurried to disembark anyway. We’d find out a few minutes later that there was traffic blocking medical transport from the nearby hospital so they’d be coming a few minutes late.

Glad we called them early!

FYI, if you’re curious: Chuuk, formerly known as Truk, is Micronesia’s most populous state with 50,000 people living within 120 sq km or 46 sq miles, and therefore a popular stopover on the island hopper.

But back to the story: I took this time to move to my next assigned seat 4 rows back (I was assigned a different seat for each leg of the island hopper) and identified my bag to the ground staff who wanted to inspect the plane for any unclaimed carry-on luggage left behind in the cabin.

After all the passengers with Chuuk as their final destination disembarked, I returned to the front and reassessed my patient who looked much much better. She was now smiling and thanking me in both English and Mandarin. I was reconsidering whether I really wanted her off the flight and momentarily regretted the huge inconvenience of calling for a medical evacuation, but both my seatmate and flight attendants reassured me this was part of protocol anyway and they were glad with having me onboard.

Five minutes passed and then a local ER nurse from a nearby hospital on the ground came onboard to assess the patient. I stepped away so I wouldn’t bias their assessment. After another 15 minutes, during which I was trying to find an open bathroom to use, I returned at the behest of the flight attendants to give the ER nurse my take. We both agreed she looked stable at the moment and may not need to be removed from the flight. I then asked the passenger to lie down in an open row for another abdominal exam, which she happily agreed to, eager to show me she wanted to be “formally discharged” from our figurative Emergency Room. I pushed on her belly again et voila! she was nontender. Let’s call it food-borne gastroenteritis for now. But I told her I’d keep an eye on her, which she cheekily said she was looking forward to in Mandarin. The ER nurse shook my hand many times in appreciation and left the aircraft, while the passenger returned to her original seat by the exit row. I could now focus on finding an open bathroom so I could finally pee.

Then, as I was waiting in line for the lavatory, one of the Chuuk airport’s ground staff members pointed at me and asked me for my name. I gave it, and he then replied I had been upgraded to first class in seat 3B. I was taken aback, and promptly got off the bathroom line to move my stuff to the front. What is going on this flight?

I don’t know but I’m loving the way it’s trending.

Sitting in my new seat in first class, the other Chuuk ground staff member looked at me and held his stance. I then awkwardly asked him why I was being upgraded; was it for attending to the medical emergency or my Premier Silver status on United? He looked at me for a few seconds without replying, and then said “your membership status.” And then he asked: “you look familiar…are you a YouTuber?” I paused, and then asked: “…maybe? what kind of content do you think I do?” He then said: “I just got into travel content…you’re a travel blogger yeah?”

A few minutes later he’d show me he was already following me on Instagram. You’re the best Christopher! It was so nice to meet you!

After new passengers from Chuuk boarded, I finally had my chance to pee. Delayed gratification. We then forged ahead to Pohnpei, taking off at 12:10pm.

EDIT: March 16, 2024 at 12:22pm

Love having received this comment and follow up e-mail from a fellow passenger that found my blog!

I was on this flight with you, and you certainly were helpful to the crew and distressed young woman. I was headed to Majuro for work meetings, and glad you had been on-board. Being a Ski Patroller, and psychologist, with outdoor emergency care skills, I was sort of next up! I’m happy to say I saw the young woman multiple times in Majuro, usually happily enjoying another meal!

I enjoy your blogs, and happy to have crossed paths over the Pacific.

—

Hi Calvin – I doubt I will ever cross that girl’s path again. I can report she seemed totally back to normal.

Probably, like you, I’m back at work and waiting for my next escape. … I must say I enjoyed the Island Hopper outbound to Majuro, but the return trip seemed endless, since the novelty was in the rearview mirror. I found myself thinking the childlike “are we there yet”… Man, over 8 hours back to Guam, it was painful.

I have enjoyed your blogs, and once I saw you on the flight to Chuuk, I also remembered seeing you a time or two on the news during the COVID outbreak. I will stay tuned, and who knows…maybe our paths will cross again. Dennis

Be Well – Stay Connected

- At time of posting in Chuuk, it was 26 °C - Humidity: 84% | Wind Speed: 40km/hr | Cloud Cover: partly cloudy

The post Onboard the Choo-Chuuk Plane appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

The Pacific Island Hopper: UA 133/155

Calvin Sun — Sun, 03 Mar 2024 16:52:19 +0000

Here we go! I finally get to experience the United Airlines famed Pacific island hopper in the other direction after taking a part of it 4 years ago.

Probably the most burning question is where to sit:

If you’re flying from GUM to HNL (eastwards), sit on the right side for all the legs and then switch to the left side when departing and landing in MAJ.

If you’re flying HNL to GUM (westwards), begin on the right side from HNL to MAJ, and then switch to the left side for all the rest of the legs until GUM.

Departing from Guam at 9:20am, we enjoyed 2 hours in the air with a quick snack in between.

Glad we called them early!

I don’t know but I’m loving the way it’s trending.

A few minutes later he’d show me he was already following me on Instagram. You’re the best Christopher! It was so nice to meet you!

After new passengers from Chuuk boarded, I finally had my chance to pee. Delayed gratification. We then forged ahead to Pohnpei, taking off at 12:10pm.

Not to be confused with Pompeii of Italiy, Pohnpei is Micronesia’s largest island and home to Palikir, its capital.

We then landed at 2:30pm local time after an hour and 10 minutes in the air.

As long as you take all your cabin luggage with you when you disembark and reboard, they’re fine with it.

So I did just that, taking advantage of heading out to get a quick exit and entry stamp just for the story.

But instead of continuing on in immigrations into baggage claims, the immigrations officer said I could turn back into the transit area at the gate without having to go through security.

This gave me extra time to enjoy the gift shop. Pohnpei is known for their local pepper.

I also purchased two boxed sets of cookies for the flight attendants Dee and Kristy, who had been very helpful and kind during the medical emergency.

We only had about 20 minutes before we having to reboard our flight from the transit area:

Once reboarded, I found I was only upgraded for the prior leg of the trip and I had to head back to my originally assigned seat in row 32. I didn’t mind since that meant I didn’t have to move for photos when we’d land in Kosrae, Kwajalein, or Majuro 2 hours later.

The ground staff waves you goodbye at Pohnpei, which I felt was a nice touch.

After we took off from Pohnpei, we continued on United Airlines’ island hopper Flight 133, which flies on Sundays and Wednesdays.

Pro-tip: if you fly on the Wednesday schedule, you’ll be lucky to add on a stop in Kosrae, another island of the Micronesia island hopping airport chain:

After that it’s Micronesia’s last stop at Kwajalein, home to Bucholz Army Airfield.

Ah Majuro, it’s good to be back after 4 years!

Like in Pohnpei, you can get off in Majuro as well for a quick transit on the group and an exit/entry stamp.

Not sure how much has changed since I last visited here.

The departures gate staff here are so relaxed you can step outside for fresh air and enjoy a banging sunset before boarding.

We then boarded half an hour later than scheduled.

EDIT: March 16, 2024 at 12:22pm

Love having received this comment on one of my related blogposts, as well as the following e-mail from a fellow passenger who found my blog!

I was on this flight with you, and you certainly were helpful to the crew and distressed young woman. I was headed to Majuro for work meetings, and glad you had been on-board. Being a Ski Patroller, and psychologist, with outdoor emergency care skills, I was sort of next up! I’m happy to say I saw the young woman multiple times in Majuro, usually happily enjoying another meal!

I enjoy your blogs, and happy to have crossed paths over the Pacific.

—

Hi Calvin – I doubt I will ever cross that girl’s path again. I can report she seemed totally back to normal.

Probably, like you, I’m back at work and waiting for my next escape. … I must say I enjoyed the Island Hopper outbound to Majuro, but the return trip seemed endless, since the novelty was in the rearview mirror. I found myself thinking the childlike “are we there yet”… Man, over 8 hours back to Guam, it was painful.

I have enjoyed your blogs, and once I saw you on the flight to Chuuk, I also remembered seeing you a time or two on the news during the COVID outbreak. I will stay tuned, and who knows…maybe our paths will cross again. Dennis

Be Well – Stay Connected

The post The Pacific Island Hopper: UA 133/155 appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Can’t Stop Yappin’ About Yap Day

Calvin Sun — Sat, 02 Mar 2024 07:10:58 +0000

With Guam behind us, we flew on our midnight United Airlines flight 185 out to Yap of the Federated States of Micronesia, landing at around 1:30am in the morning.

Yap is one of the 4 states of Micronesia and the land of stone money (more on that later), the original cryptocurrency.

At the airport there’s only two immigration officer booths for all of arrivals; one for FSM citizens and the other for everyone else. Get to the front fast, or be prepared to wait totally outside, even if it might be under the rain.

As tradition for all their welcomes in Yap, a local topless and garland adorned girl and boy will very likely greet you at arrivals with a lei.

We were then directed to our transportation waiting outside.

Since I had unknowingly planned this trip to be in the middle of their Yap Day festivities, everything was fully booked out on the island except for 2 rooms (at the last minute too!) at the nicest resort on the island: the centrally located Manta Bay Resort & Yap Divers in the middle of Yap’s main town of Colonia.

Taking 20 minutes to drive to the resort in Colonia, we were given an orientation of the small town and resort before I crashed at 3am.

Back to the lands where everything is painted, not printed…

…unless it’s a memorial to U.S. troops who flew and crashed-landed their Hellcats or B-52s here during World War 2. Apparently Yap was a centrally fought over island during the war where the U.S. tried to isolate it from the rest of Japan’s supply chain.

From there we walked a minute over to the center of Colonia

Its Supreme Court is the first to obviously remind us we’re in Yap:

The YCA Business Center is probably the largest structure in Colonia comprised mostly of a very large supermarket and a few businesses, ID services, and the reliable Ganir restaurant.

Across the street, there is a 24/7 free open-air Living History Museum where you can lay your first sight on the Yapese’s traditional meeting houses and stone money if you haven’t already yet (like WW2 memorials, they’re everywhere here).

If I haven’t already mentioned it yet, I should now: Yap is most famous for being the home to its stone money, known as Rai or Fei. Large doughnut-shaped disks are carved out of calcite stone, measuring up to 12 feet in diameter down to inches. Most had originated from Palau with many more arriving later from other islands such as New Guinea and their value is based on both the stone’s size (smaller may actually be worth more since they’re more mobile and therefore more practical) and its history.

The Yapese chiefs then valued Rai/Fei because the material looked like quartz when presented to them by other islands, and being that these were the shiniest objects available and not local to their island, the chiefs deemed them legal tender. Some have now even become mandatory in payments of tradition.

Since there was and is a finite number of them, the value of the stones was kept high due to the difficulty with both creating (imagine carving these stones with nothing but a seashell), quarrying, and transporting them back to Yap; Yapese sailors had to venture to other distant islands and confront hostile local natives there, quarry the stones, and then tow these behemoths by sail-driven canoes. Like the idea of an otherwise arbitrary concept of bitcoin, the finite number of Rai on its island as well as the effort behind them created value to the Yapese.

And like the idea of what makes a bitcoin “valuable,” Rai are no longer being made or transported; therefore the money supply is fixed. When ownership changes, much of the stone money remains in place due to their size and weight (the largest ones require 20 adult men to carry). They therefore rely on memory and institutionalized ledgers (think blockchain) to know who owns each stone money on the island.

And even though the United States Dollar is now the official currency for everyday transactions in Yap, Rai are still used for traditional or ceremonial exchanges between individuals or tribes such as marriages, transfers of land, or as compensation for damages or shame suffered by another, aggrieved party.

So let’s say if I were to buy land, only wanted to use Rai and found a seller willing to accept Rai instead of USD, I could tell my buyer that the Rai located next to Hotel XYZ, second from the left, is mine. The seller would confirm ownership of that Rai with a ledger/local chief/blockchain (lol) and once accepted, that Rai is now theirs and their land is mine. Like the idea of bitcoin, the Rai never has to physically “move” and can remain in place by Hotel XYZ; it’s just now under a different owner.

We continued on our tour of Colonia by walking further by Pine Bar & Grill:

We then passed by the local post office:

Peeked in a cute small store:

And ended our walk at ACES MART 1, another larger store selling all these wonderful little treasures, such as saran-wrapped burgers and Spam Musubis:

Signs of heavy import fees with overinflated brand-name kitchenware:

And have you ever seen AriZona Green Tea Fruit Gummies?! Only in Yap.

We then took a detour up north up a flight of stairs to St Mary’s Catholic Church, currently undergoing renovations:

Afterwards we headed back to Manta Bay Resort/Hotel for happy hour at 4:30 with $1 off their $7-$10 drinks (hmm, not much of “happy hour” but I’ll take what I can get). I then scheduled myself a massage at the resort’s Taro Leaf Spa at 6pm, followed by dinner at 7pm, and then turning in by 9:30pm for 10 hours of glorious catch up sleep. And that’s day 1.

On our second day after breakfast, all of us boarded Manta Ray’s free 8:30am shuttle bus 25 minutes to the town Makiy on Gagil, the sub-island northeast from Colonia, to witness the festivities involved in Yap Day.

Back in 1968 the Yap Islands Congress consecrated Yap District Day to preserve Yapese culture, choosing March 1 as the date representing its “most pleasant” season because of the relative dry period. The name was then officially changed to “Yap Day” on March 1979.

After arriving early at 9am on an 8:30am shuttle, we waited for things to start, and boy does island time really make a difference here; bring a book to pass the time as everything moves here refreshingly casually.

In between each event, you can also wander around the 10-15 tents and booths set up behind the seating area; one tent offered free health checks for the community such as measuring BMIs, blood pressure, blood glucose, or offering pamphlets, etc., another tent appealed towards small businesses on the islands:

. . . and the rest were local vendors from convenience stores around Yap, functioning also as food stalls selling platters of food such as raw and cooked turtles, sashimi, roast pork, and pickled vegetables:

Or what we were all looking for: free food. For that, look for the very popular “Taste of Yap” booth where you try to cram as much as you can on this single banana leaf they give you as a handheld plate. And you can come back for seconds. Their coconut crab was THE BEST.

And pro-tip for those of you worrying about disrespecting the locals when you have to go, instead of peeing on the many trees here the very well-kept and often-cleaned bathrooms are hidden away to the east of the vendors among the remnants of a Japanese school from World War 2.

The festival begins with a local blowing on a conch shell and with opening remarks by an MC. Then a presentation of colors by Officers of Public Safety:

Afterwards, we sat through more opening remarks by the local chief of Gagil, the governor of Yap, the president of Palau that came just for the weekend, a Benediction by a priest from Guam, and then a procession where a local tribe demonstrates a presentation of stone money.

Afterwards, the dances begin. Most of them are Womens’ Sitting Dances:

During an extended lunch break, a series of talent show like competitions are waged by a range of first to eighth graders from various schools in Yap with their schoolteachers looking on in the background. Activities are judged by both speed and quality of the items being made.

First to eighth grader girls compete in various weaving contests to make baskets, balls, rice bags, fans, hats, and fruit baskets. Boys compete with rope and raft-making.

There are also conventionally physical races: Girls compete in juggling while running, dodgeball, and relay races, while boys compete in stick balancing, dodgeball, pole climbing, and relay races.

Many of us then headed back at 3pm for an early dinner, and after a 30 minute head and shoulder massage back at the hotel, I turned in early at 8:30pm for bed. I might as well start getting readjusted back to my time zone back home early!

Waking up at 5:30am the next morning and catching up on blogposts, I enjoyed our later start with a 9:30am departure for the second day of Yap Day. Arriving early before the program, Stephanie and a few other friends we made at the hotel, a Spanish researcher in CHamorou culture Alba and her friend, famed Guam artist Julie Flores, signed up for a free tour to the Gagil tribe’s nearby stone money bank.

Luckily for us, our guides had gotten the Gagil chief’s permission to let women inside this stone money bank (previously women were only allowed to view the bank from a platform). We also were asked by our guides to break off a piece of a branch and hold it in our right hand during our tour; this act of respect was meant to show the local tribe we were coming in peace.

Even the guides carry them just to be safe; they all take this pretty seriously here.

The walk to the bank took about 7 minutes from the Yap Day site in Makiy.

The bank is constructed around a communal meeting house where the tribes can gather inside. The house is surrounded by Rai, and faces a ceremonial path that also functions as a dancing platform for visiting and hosting tribes.

After half an hour on this tour, we returned to the festivities of Day 2, beginning with a Copra Husking Race where both tourists and locals were invited to partake:

Then we saw a very abrupt betelnut climbing race, which involved only local Yapese men (because liability) who know how to climb:

Afterwards the high schoolers presented their program, with a very impressive and intricately choreographed bamboo stick dance:

We then were given a Tattoo Display; the MC, however, suggested the practice was becoming more obsolete as it appeared they were struggling to find even one local volunteer with the necessary tattoos this year.

Finally, after few more women sitting and standing dances, the Yap Day program closed out with the Men’s Standing Dance by the Gagil tribe:

We then returned on the 4:30pm bus back to the hotel, where once again after an early dinner brought back from Yap Day I slept in early at 8:30pm to get closer to my NYC time zone back home.

The next morning I woke up at 4:30am and enjoyed the free time in the dark doing push ups and fixing up the blog. I then signed up for the optional 3 hour land tour Manta Bay was offering to all of Colonia every 9:30am Saturday for $79.

We first drove by the Mormon Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints:

Our first stop was at the Joseph Cox Memorial dedicated to Ensign Joseph Cox who on a routine mission from the USS Enterprise, collided his F6F-5 Hellcat with another plane and landing in Yap. His remains were found nearby and returned to his hometown in Idaho while his F6F-5 Hellcat fighter plane remained here on Yap:

We then took a detour southeast to the largest stone money bank on Yap at Baleabaat, branch and leaf in our right hand as always:

Next stop: the old airport from World War 2 when Japan had occupied Yap where we came upon the remnants of a Japanese Zero:

Another part of a Japanese Zero was hidden a few steps away in the bushes:

An old Japanese artillery cannon was left intact nearby:

We drove further south to another site featuring another tribe’s impressive and more open display of stone money.

Offered to take a short 4 minute hike by our guides, we then quickly came upon the remains of a Japanese tunnel that was dug out as a shelter from daily American bombardment during the war:

Some of us, including yours truly, totally missed it on the first pass:

For our final stop, we relaxed with fresh coconut and more stone money displays at Ngariy:

The local meeting house here has the most established interior out of all the ones we’ve been in:

One of our Manta Ray Resort guides, Stella, then showed how to make a traditional Yapese leaf basket with her bare hands in less than 3 minutes:

After half an hour with Stella and munching on coconuts, we then returned back to Manta Bay Resort. After a failed attempt to walk to and eat at Pine Bar & Grill which was closed on weekends (and then turning down the owner’s attempt to drive us to Esa Bay Resort for lunch), we had a great meal instead at nearby Ganir’s, seemingly the only other open restaurant on Saturday in Colonia. We then settled our bills back at the hotel front desk and packed for an ungodly itinerary home.

Knowing I would not get any sleep with all my 1-2 hour flights coming up on the UA 133 island hopper from Yap to Guam to Chuuk to Pohnpei to Kosrae to Kwajalein to Majuro to Honolulu (yep you read that correctly) and despite having gotten over 9 hours of sleep every night the past 3 nights, I remarkably was able to harness the power of low-light and blue blocking sunglasses to convince my body to sleep at 4pm. Thank goodness, because we were then summoned by the hotel front desk at 11:30pm for a midnight departure to the airport.

Yap airport is probably one of the few left in the world where the obligatory departure tax is not included in your ticket; after check-in and bag drop off, we had to line up to pay $20 in cash at a counter, before lining up again to stamp out of Yap.

Then we headed through security into a very crowded waiting room that became standing room only. At least with all the farewell garlands that every traveler was bestowed upon by a fellow local before departing, the room was pleasantly infused with the smell of fresh flowers.

And after an hour in the waiting room where I even met a few more travelers and hopefully will keep in touch with them (hi Jasmine and Ryan!), it’s time to island hop on our way home.

- At time of posting in Colonia, Yap, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 71% | Wind Speed: 29km/hr | Cloud Cover: occasionally sunny, partly cloudy

The post Can’t Stop Yappin’ About Yap Day appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Can I Have a Piece of Guam?

Calvin Sun — Tue, 27 Feb 2024 23:03:39 +0000

Good morning from Saipan:

After a full day exploring Saipan, the next morning felt like it was moving pretty straightforward: I had gotten 9 full hours of sleep, was promptly picked up by our taxi driver and guide Sumon at 7:45am, and even got upgraded to business class for my return flight to Guam while checking in at the airport.

Then, while relaxing in Saipan airport’s only Priority Pass lounge, I got a text and call from Sumon who said he found my Bose headphones still in his car. We were boarding in 20 minutes and he was about 15 minutes away by car, so I didn’t want to panic; this morning had already been going too smoothly.

So within 20 minutes I went through a passport check at Gate 6 (there’s nothing to go “through” but rather “check in at” with Saipan to Guam), left my bags behind at the gate 3 with Stephanie, ran out of security, picked up my headphones from Sumon and his friend as they drove back to departures, ran through security again, ran back to the gate 3, retrieved my bags, and boarded the flight just in time before takeoff.

Whew! Thank you Sumon!

After only 45 minutes in the air and sneaking enough time to write a blogpost and have a cup of joe, we landed early at 10am, once again passing through customs easily thanks to a QR code we obtained online beforehand.

Guam, an organized, unincorporated territory of the United States, sits in the southern part of the chain of Mariana Islands in the Micronesia.

Predominantly and natively Guam is inhabited by the CHamarou people, similar to those who live in Saipan (but preferring to spell it Chamarro due to an inherited generational distrust between both groups of people after Japanese occupation).

Although it looks like an island (I mean, it IS an island), Guam functions more like that of a US Navy Battleship or Aircraft Carrier floating in the Pacific Ocean: Call it U.S.S. Guam and you won’t be far off in imagining what it’s like; just like how an aircraft carrier functions like a floating city, Guam is a floating city-island that functions primarily and geopolitically as the “tip of the spear” for the U.S. military in the Pacific Ocean.

With over $4 billion dollars invested in it by the U.S. military, the construction of the Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) into the island (THAAD is the only weapons system capable of intercepting targets both inside and outside out atmosphere), the U.S. military currently owning over 1/3 (and at one point over 2/3 of the island), and the rhetoric intensifying surrounding China’s own interests in the Pacific, Guam has been more relevant these days and perhaps at the expense of its native inhabitants.

And just as how the NY Times article writes it, like on an aircraft carrier or battleship it feels as if the U.S. military presence here on Guam carry themselves as the battleship’s staff, while the indigenous CHamarou people are treated like the mess attendants; Guam feels like a borderline if not outright colony of the modern day in the same way you can argue how Saipan, Puerto Rico, USVI, and to a more indirect sense, the independent countries still beholden to U.S. interests such as The Marshall Islands, Palau, and the Federated States of Micronesia. Furthermore, if China, North Korea, Russia, or any other belligerent nation wanted to strike against the United States in the Pacific, it would always always start with Guam.

It feels like everyone wants a piece of it.

The problem is now both CHamorou and the U.S. military have been entrenched and embedded with each other for too long to have any kind of clean separation. With so much American military money having been invested in it, Guam is both too important to abandon and yet too small to rally for statehood or declare independence; both CHamorou and the U.S. military have become symbiotic/parasitic/mutually dependent/inseparable. Guam is what is protecting us on the West.

We debated all of this during our day in Guam. And thanks to Lyla’s childhood here, she was able to connect me with her childhood friend and neighbor Sean Rodriguez, who picked us up from Arrivals and took us on a tour of his ancestral home.

Passing through the capital of Hagåtña, Sean first stopped at a random bush close to the hospital where we walked through on a 2 minute hike.

Remains of an abandoned property was at the end, with a balcony extending out over a dramatic drop to the ocean below, affording visitors wide views of the coastline. This area is also deeply rooted in the history of the indigenous CHamoru people and known as Oka Point.

We then drove back to Hagåtña and put our names down for lunch at Meskla Chamoru Fusion Bistro. While waiting, we quickly got morning coffee/matcha at the local Chatime embedded within the Ross Dress for Less mall while speaking to Lyla over FaceTime.

Then lunch…wow…so much food and so good food.

After lunch we drove to Plaza de España, originally the home of the Governor’s Palace during Spain’s occupation of Guam before the Americans. It still holds the look of its Spanish origins.

Dulce Nombre de Maria Cathedral-Basilica is a massive cathedral facing the plaza and now houses a high school where Sean and Lyla used to attend and had first met.

The Santa Marian Kamalen statue at the altar and under the cross is that of the Virgin Mary, and said to have been miraculously found on the seabed floor by a fisherman on the south coast of Guam with human hair still growing from it.

Needing the bathroom but seeing that none was available in the cathedral, we went across the street to the Guam Congress Building which is open to the public as a government taxpayer funded property, hence free bathrooms! Thanks America.

After freshening up we drove south and up to the US Navy World War II Memorial Park, which overlooks the bay where the Americans retook Guam from the Japanese.

Plenty of ‘murica patriotism here, with reliefs and the names of all those who were injured or had died in retaking Guam (including both the names of U.S. military and local CHamorous).

There’s a sign here that indicates the sites of all the battles that took place in the Pacific theater of World War 2.

Driving back down to sea level, we regrouped at a local church and boys’ school where Corey, Sean’s friend and a doctorate student in CHamorou language, joined us for the rest of our road trip around the island.

Our next stop: Mount Lamlam, the “tallest mountain on Earth.”

The majority of Mount Lamlam stretches continuously from its peak all the way down underwater to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, the lowest known point in the entire ocean at over 36,000 feet deep. Therefore, Mt. Lamlam is technically the world’s tallest mountain at almost 38,000 ft tall …if it weren’t for this pesky thing known as rising sea levels (Everest is only 29,000 ft from bottom to top!).

The views from here:

We then drove by random leftovers from the Japanese military when they had occupied Guam, including large cannons and guns, as well as CHamorou structures comprised of stone pillars with a cup-shaped stone on top called “lattes.”

…and a statue of the Virgin Mary carrying baby Jesus like a football about to score a touchdown.

We then passed by Sella Bay Overlook…

…reaching Fort Nuestra Senora de la Soledad aka Our Lady of Solitude Fort, which was built by the Spanish to protect their ships and cargo coming into the bay of Guam.

The views from the fort:

And on the bay below where we got some fresh coconuts, is where Magellan is said to have first landed.

There’s even a memorial marking the spot where Magellan had first set foot on Guam.

Then we reached the southernmost point of Guam by the Merizo Bell Tower, and the location of the oldest building on the island now inhabited by a priest of the local church in the town of Merizo.

This little humble spot faces their Cocos islet that is home to a resort via a ferry crossing (temporarily closed).

And with that and as the sun began to set, we drove back up around the island, passing a statue that CHamorous say resembles that of a bear.

We then finished off with a wonderful and filling ramen dinner at local staple and favorite, Fuji’s/FujiIchiban.

Afterwards with time to kill before our onward flight to Yap of Micronesia, we headed to Sean’s house with Corey and enjoyed drinks and Potu rice ball desserts while under the stars and facing Lyla’s childhood home.

Thank you Lyla for introducing us to Sean and Corey, and in turn Sean and Corey for showing us Guam hospitality and taking us around your island!

- At time of posting in Guam, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 74% | Wind Speed: 32km/hr | Cloud Cover: tropical

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Please Notice Me, Saipan!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 26 Feb 2024 09:11:36 +0000

From Palau, and having snuck in 4 hours of sleep from 8pm-midnight, we boarded the 2:05am United Airlines Flight #158 to Guam, landing at 5:10am underslept and miserable.

Since Guam is a U.S. territory, transiting in Guam work as if you were entering the U.S. Therefore, you have to endure the through the whole visa/global entry/customs/etc. process. And if you’ve checked in luggage, make sure you have enough transit time to retrieve them from baggage claims, go through customs (which now accepts a QR code you can obtain if you pre-fill the customs form online on cqa.guam.gov), re-check them in again, and go through security again.

After all that runaround I checked into the only Priority Pass lounge in Guam by Gate 8, where at the encouragement of sympathetic staff members inside, I creatively tried to catch up on as much sleep as I could.

After a 2 hour layover, we groggily boarded again at 8:00am on United Airlines Flight #174 for Saipan of the Northern Mariana Islands.

We landed 45 minutes later at 8:45am.

Luckily since Guam to Saipan works like a domestic flight within the USA, no immigration procedures needed; you already went through all of it in Guam!

As a U.S. Commonwealth but not a state, the Northern Mariana Islands are the second to the American Samoa in being the least populated sub-state jurisdiction in the United States. And because only a single branch of the US Military (the Coast Guard) has a home in Saipan, many Chamorros here consider their culture more authentically intact than on Guam.

It has been so bad of a divide that many of Guam’s CHamarou people still consider Saipan’s Chamorros “traitors” for working as interpreters with (or for?) the Japanese during WW2 when Japan had occupied both Saipan and then Guam.

To make it a point, Saipan spells it ‘Chamorro’ whereas Guam spells it ‘CHamoru.’

We were picked up at arrivals by a friendly Bengali taxi driver named Sumon, who was sent by our lodging at Saipan Skyline Designers Hotel. After taking our bags, we agreed to start with a tour of Saipan while slowly making on our way north to the accommodations before 3pm check-in. The first offer was $60 for the first hour and $50/hour after that.

However, after remarkably very little back and forth, we bargained it down to $200 USD for an unlimited, no time-limit tour of all of Saipan. Setting off at 9am, we began at the nearby Ladder Beach, right next to the airport:

Take some time to explore some of the caves that open into the beach here; a great place for lunch.

Then we drove a few minutes over to equally empty Oksay Beach.

There’s a nearby WW2 Bunker.

In fact, there are bunkers from World War 2 scattered everywhere around the island:

From the airport and on the southwestern coast we drove by Chalan Kanoa, the initial southwestern landing site where the USA invaded Saipan when they fought the Japanese during World War 2.

Fittingly, it feels like a vestige of what happened here would be Saipan’s main branch of the US Postal Service.

Continuing further north, we drove through Garapan, the capital and the most developed region in the Mariana Islands; everything is within walking distance from each other.

Garapan is also home to the American Memorial Park, a United States National Park and the only in the Northern Mariana Islands.

Free to visit, the museum inside impressed me with its numerous immersive displays of Saipan’s unfortunate role in WW2 that could even make the WW2 museum in New Orleans break a sweat:

The memorial and park outside is dedicated to the US soldiers whom fought and died in the Pacific War against Japan in the battles that took place in Saipan, Tinian, and the Philippine Sea in 1944.

There’s also another dedicated but smaller Marianas Memorial honoring the local civilians and Chamorros that died in the crossfire during the American invasion.

A nearby theater faces the back of another building, which is going through renovations to become a small museum about the Mariana Trench (which we’re situated right next to!):

After an hour exploring the memorial park and museum, we drove a minute over to Micro Beach:

Maybe if it wasn’t for its “micro” size, this beach would have been our favorite of them all. I mean, look at the colors:

It’s a pastel paradise.

Taking a break from the sightseeing, Sumon then dropped us off in the center of Garapan downtown where we then chose Korean for lunch against the backdrop of Garapan’s abandoned and unfinished casino complex.

After 2 hours of eating and ordering a delicious taro slushie nearby at Cha Café, Sumon picked us up from the café to take us further north. He cut across to the eastern part of Saipan, first stopping at San Juan Beach.

We then drove up a few minutes to Kalabera Cave with its 60 feet tall mouth that drops off to a seemingly bottomless abyss.

Don’t miss the replica of a Chamorro building within the complex of walkways that lead to the cave.

We then made an obligatory photo stop nearby.

From the sign we continued north to Bird Island Beach and Observatory, a photogenic scenic point overlooking a small inlet where many birds live.

Along the northeastern ridge of Bird Island scenic point, you can SCUBA dive as deep as 70 feet in The Grotto, a karst cave that connects to the ocean.

Then at the very north we reached Suicide Cliff, where over 1,000 Japanese soldiers and citizens in Saipan jumped from here to their deaths to avoid being captured as prisoners of war by the Americans.

A memorial marks and grieves the spot where they jumped.

Many other memorials have been placed here since.

We walked by numerous more memorials constructed at the bottom of Suicide Cliff since the war. One for the Japanese:

And another to the Koreans, many of whom who were sent here as forced labor by the Japanese and therefore had also died during the battle for Saipan:

In between the two, we found a bunker that acted as the Last Japanese Command Post where the Japanese Army had made their last stand against the Americans pushing up north.

You can climb up and explore to your spelunking delight:

At the bottom is a similar Banzai Cliff, where instead of jumping off a cliff and landing into the bare earth at Suicide Cliff, Japanese soldiers and civilians threw themselves into the ocean and rocks below just to avoid being captured by the Americans.

You can find plenty of memorials here as well to commemorate the sacrifices the Japanese and local citizens made in order to avoid capture.

After that we returned to check in at 4pm and take it easy at our lodgings until our 9:50am return flight the next day back to Guam.

The next morning felt straightforward: I had gotten 9 full hours of sleep, was picked up by Sumon at 7:45am, and even got upgraded at the airport to business class for my return flight to Guam. Then, while relaxing in Saipan airport’s only Priority Pass lounge, I got a text and call from Sumon who said he found my Bose headphones still in his car. With boarding in 20 minutes and that he was 15 minutes away by driving, I didn’t want to panic.

But within 20 minutes I left my bags behind at the gate with Stephanie, ran out of security to pick up my headphones from Sumon and his friend when they drove back, pass through security again, ran back to the gate, retrieved my bags, and boarded the flight just in time before takeoff.

Whew! Thank you Sumon!

- At time of posting in Saipan, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 75% | Wind Speed: 32km/hr | Cloud Cover: partly cloudy, almost perfect

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Palau Deck!

Calvin Sun — Sun, 25 Feb 2024 23:17:57 +0000

After 10 days in snowpowderalypse paradise, I returned from Niseko to CTS airport on an early morning shuttle bus to make my 2:10pm flight to Taiwan. Arriving in the evening, I met up with Stephanie Liu, a derm-pathologist doctor who found me on the internet, to begin our island hopping adventure back home.

Staying at Chill Roof Hotel with their friendly cats, we turned in early to get ready for warmer weather.

The next morning we took an Uber for our 12:35pm flight from Taipei to Palau’s former capital of Koror, landing 4 hours later at 5:10pm local time.

Immigrations requires an online form on palautravel.pw to be filled out beforehand to obtain a QR Code so you can pass through customs more easily.

The visa is very unique, taking the form of a pledge requiring your signature for validity.

Customs may take awhile here, as they will ask everyone to open up random pieces of luggage for inspections so you’re not carrying any food, vegetables, or fruits that could damage the islands’ natural agriculture.

Picked up by Uddin from our accommodations of Garden Palace Koror in downtown, we were informed of a bimonthly night market that took place underneath the bridge near downtown Koror. And luckily for us tonight was going to be one of those nights!

Taking just half an hour to settle in, we then called ahead for a $10 taxi to the night market.

With local bands and singers in the background rotating every half hour, both tourists and locals alike crowd the cash-only stalls in the foreground. Food ranges from Taiwanese fare (bubble tea and fried chicken) to American casual (pizza and BBQ skewers) to local Palauan (suckling pig).

There’s also specialty stalls for those that who’d want grab-and-go fried fish, are health conscious, donate to charity and environmental preservation organizations, or would like a free bible course.

After about an hour here, we spoke to a friendly Chinese tourist from Melbourne sitting at our table who recommended that we make all efforts to go to Jellyfish Lake the next day (which we had just given up on after our hotel manager told us there weren’t many this time of year). So after an initial attempt to return back to the hotel earlier at 8pm by waiting for the $2 half an hourly shuttle bus that never came, a friendly security officer named Clem took pity on us by 8:40pm and offered to drive us instead for $10 back.

Once back at the hotel, our manager thankfully was able to quickly change our tour the next day to include Jellyfish Lake.

The next morning we were picked up at 8:45am by IMPAC Tours to take us to the docks where we registered, paid, obtained our permits, and picked up our fins and life jackets.

We then boarded our boat for the The Rock Islands: the famed emerald isles of Palau’s Southern Lagoon and home to some of Koror’s best beaches and snorkeling.

We first stopped at a lagoon called Milky Way, gaining its name from narrow passage through Rock islands that gives the water a milky hue.

Here we took advantage a skin treatment with a special clay our guides free dove and gathered on the sea floor. The clay is believed to rejuvenate human skin and has been a much sought after ingredient for spas and cosmetic applications around the world.

Next we had the unique opportunity to swim in the famed jellyfish lake where in the absence of predators, the local jellyfish (both moon and golden) have evolved over generations to lose most of their stingers and nematocytes. Therefore it’s safe to swim and snorkel amongst them!

Remember those permits? You also have to purchase a $100 USD per person permit beforehand from your tour operator to visit Jellyfish Lake that includes access to the Rock Islands (it’s otherwise $50 USD for the Rock Islands in general without Jellyfish Lake).

To reach the lake physically, we first climbed up a hill and hiked across to climb back down into the lake; it’s this kind of isolation that would explain for the jellyfish’s speciation.

Once we reached the lake, we put on our flippers and swam across to the other side where the lake was cooler, and hence where all the jellyfish lived.

It takes about 20 minutes to swim across, and then you’ll see them all on the other side of the lake where it’s cooler for the jellyfish to thrive.

The translucent moon jellyfish predominates here, but every now and there you’ll catch the cute tiny golden jellyfish.

After an hour swimming we returned back to our boat where I tended to my blistered toes (don’t get flippers too tight!) and had lunch on the beaches of Ngermeaus Island as it began to rain heavily.

After an hour’s lunch, we headed out for more reef snorkeling including a spot called Rose Garden and another called Paradise. I couldn’t really tell the difference between the two, but both were very pretty coral reefs.

Finally before turning back in the afternoon, we stopped for photos in front of an arched rock island.

After returning back to our hotel and taking an hour to freshen up, we then walked around Koror to pick up a to-go dinner from Tori Tori.

Had the Jellyfish Lake tour not worked out our backup plan was going to be a walking tour of the museums in our area; Belau National Museum is a 9 minute walk south, open since 1955.

Palau International Coral Reef Center is a 20 minute walk west.

For more of a community feel, Etpison Museum has a collection of history exhibits and cultural gems.

Sacred Heart Church is just across the street.

With plenty of time to make it out for our 2:30am night flight to Guam, and exhausted from our full day of snorkeling and sun, I surprised myself by turning in early at 8pm for a 4 hour nap.

I then woke myself up at midnight so that our hotel manager could drive us to the airport.

Arriving at 12:30am, we were the very last to check into our flight before waiting another hour in a crowded waiting room (FYI, there are no VIP or Priority Pass lounges yet at Palau airport) for our 2:30am flight to Guam.

- At time of posting in Palau, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 78% | Wind Speed: 32km/hr | Cloud Cover: warm

The post Palau Deck! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Bee’s Nise-ko

Calvin Sun — Fri, 23 Feb 2024 21:50:10 +0000

Thank you David Park for some of these photos

It all started with saying yes. Isn’t that how it always starts?

“Yes” to an invitation on Clubhouse during the pandemic led to a “yes” to Yacht Week Sardinia, which led to a “yes” to Yacht Week French Polynesia, which led to a “yes” to Yacht Week Greece, which led to a “yes” to this. After years of domestic ski trips, it is finally time to take it across the oceans to our first international ski/snowboard/snowpocalypse monsoon at the invitation and behest of our favorite bagel and TYW chef Megan, who works as an official ski/snowboard instructor whenever she’s not on a yacht.

Niseko has been long known as a mecca for pow pow powder snow sports that you probably don’t need another blogpost about Niseko, but if you’re reading to confirm a few things on your planning we’re happy to help.

Day 1: NYC to Tokyo

From NYC I redeemed 100k Chase Miles for a Polaris-class United flight from LGA to ORD to HND in Tokyo. I immediately therefore took advantage of leaving from LGA by visiting the Chase Sapphire Reserve lounge that had just opened up (2 weeks ago!) next to the reliable AMEX Centurion Lounge.

My friend and longtime monsooner Paul, having missed his flight from a freak snowstorm yesterday, joined me both for the Chase Reserve lounge and our departing flight to ORD.

5 years ago I recalled haviing visited this Polaris Lounge at ORD for the first time, vowing to return for their dining room.

After finally having a formal meal in said dining room and taking a shower afterwards, I headed over to the regular United Club lounge to say goodbye to Paul and then boarded my direct ORD to Tokyo-Haneda flight. Views weren’t so bad.

Having gotten very little sleep the night before with Paul, I asked the flight attendants to delay my meal service so I could start the flight with a full block of sleep and adjust as soon as possible to local Japan time. You can do that you know!

Since I already explored a lot of Tokyo the last time I was here, I chose to save the money and stay by the airport for a much better value. Haneda airport is only 20 minutes away from Tokyo by car anyway.

Of note, Mecure Airport Hotel by Haneda serves fine-dining level of food. It was that good.

Day 2: Tokyo to Sapporo

With an extra day in Tokyo to readjust and because Paul Woo insisted I should visit again, I booked a 10:30am entry for the return of teamLab: Borderless — the world’s most visited single exhibit art museum — having reopened just 6 days ago after a 2 year hiatus.

The last time I visited teamLab was almost 8 years ago! And instead of spamming this post with photos, I won’t spoil it for you; photos won’t do it justice. This art exhibit involves all 5 senses, does not have a map, and must be experienced in the flesh. If you still want photos, head to my blogpost from 8 years ago and imagine them a little more upgraded.

After 2 hours wandering the exhibit on my own, I returned back to my hotel to pick up my luggage and headed back to HND airport for my evening 6:35pm flight to Sapporo, meeting up with Jeffrey and Brett in front of our gates where all of our flights were getting delayed. I’d find out this is both their first time in Japan!

Once we boarded, all our planes took 45 minutes taxi’ing on the runway where it felt like we were being driven instead of flown to Sapporo instead. After we landed, Jeff stayed behind at the airport for the hotel there while Brett and I headed into Sapporo to enjoy the nightlife.

Day 3: Sapporo to Niseko

After an overnight in Sapporo and having taken advantage of the rooftop onsen at the top of Tenza Hotel, I returned back to CTS airport with Brett in the morning and met up with Bruce for a quick bite at Ebisoba Ichegen at the airport for their renowned seafood ramen.

Thanks to Bruce who stood in line for us!

It’s so popular many leave their luggage outside the restaurant just to eat here.

After lunch we met up with Natalie who had stayed overnight by the airport. Lydia, who crashed on Natalie’s bed after flying in with Bruce, joined us as well a few minutes later.

Once Taejin, David, and Sujay arrived around noon, Jeff came from his airport hotel and the 9 of us boarded the Resort Liner Bus 107 at 1:35pm for our 3 hour drive to Niseko.

We arrived at around 4:35pm at the Hirafu Welcome Center where the concierge staff of Holiday Niseko and Ori House Niseko drove us directly to our accommodations.

This is Ori House Niseko: the only family-size, single property, luxury chalet located inside Hirafu Village.

After settling in our rooms, I called Rhythm Niseko for their complimentary shuttle pick-up so we could grab our rentals the day before. What service!

After nearly 2 hours of waiting in line for our rentals, Rhythm Niseko dropped us off back off at our lodging where we then got ready for dinner at The Barn. With about a few minutes to kill before dinner, Jenny — our newest and most freshman monsooner — proposed to play an icebreaker, which isn’t a very monsoon thing to do. However, Jenny read the room correctly; when her icebreaker asked for name, where we were coming from, and our toxic trait, it was perfect: All that group of authentic friends needs are brave, authentic answers to the right questions and we’d all bond pretty quickly after that.

At 8:30pm we walked over for our dinner reservations for 12 (sneaking our last minute signup, Kunal — who had signed up as recently as the day before! — as our 13th person outside our reservation) where Megan joined us as well to welcome us to her other home of Niseko.

Day 4

Today we begin the main course of the trip. We boarded the free but tiny shuttle bus around Hirafu (which runs every 15-20 minutes) at 8:30am for the 4 slope tour of the behemoth that is Niseko.

We immediately headed up the gondola, joined by Brett’s 2 friends who happened to be in the area.

After an initial run feeling out everyone’s skill level and waiting for Natalie to jump in the deep end on her first snowboarding experience, I was asked to take a photo for a passer-by who then asked for my social media. After she introduced herself as Nisha, we found out that we had more than plenty mutual friends in Florida!

I then headed up to the peak on my own.

It takes 7 minutes to ski from the very top of Hirafu to the very bottom, where I then met everyone else at AYA Kitchen for lunch thanks to Jenny’s taste in finding good places to eat.

After lunch, I decided to end my day early to buy more groceries and pick up my one day of snowboard rentals. The rest enjoyed a whole day of skiing that extended into complimentary access to night skiing that goes from 4-7pm (at least for Sujay, who started his run super late) . . .

Having time to kill in the later afternoon instead of skiing, Jenny, Natalie and I got in line for a drink at Bar Gyu+:

There we played musical chairs so that other people in our group including Bruce, Sujay and Lyla could also partake with us without having to wait in the 1-2 hour line to enter. And after 3 hours of drinking at Gyu+, we changed back at our house and then experienced a brief 15 minute scare where no cabs made themselves available to take us to the Annupuri section of Niseko United for dinner (the nearest cab on the Go Taxi app was over “2 hours away”). However, we were miraculously saved by constantly refreshing Google Maps: One minute it was recommending a 1.5 hour bus itinerary or a 1.5 hour walk, and the next after a random refresh, a 30 minute Niseko United Shuttle route appeared out of thin air.

Seeing this, we scrambled out for a 13 minute walk north uphill to catch that bus at the Hirafu Intersection stop. After another 20 minute ride across to the base of Annupuri, we made it to our booked out spot at Upashi Seta only 20 minutes late.

With 16 of us + 2 of Brett’s friends Ben and Emma, we filled out the entire place that could only fit 20 people max!

Luckily after our dinner, it was late enough where 3 cabs (and Megan bringing her car) were able to be hailed within 10 minutes to take us back to our house.

Day 5

First stop: Mountain Kiosk Coffee Stand by the Welcome Center has the best coffee in the region!

Seeing that we were here for much longer than the typical 2 night, 2 day ski trips, I wanted to give snowboarding another try for the first time in 16 years. But I wasn’t going to wing it like last time; the 6 of us joined Megan’s 4 hour snowboarding class in the morning for a formal lesson.

After our lesson in extreme humility and where I eventually got the hang of snowboarding again, the group reconvened across the street at Vale Bar & Grill, right across from from AYA.

In the afternoon we put our skills to what we had learned on the regular slopes, of which I only managed a run and a half before realizing I had dropped my phone in the snow somewhere in between my wipe outs. I even had told Sujay after lunch that “something really bad was going to happen” and I no longer wanted to push my luck. But instead of an injury, which I had predicted, it would be a lost phone.

Letting out a communal groooaaaannnn, my heroic group of snowboarders nevertheless immediately banded together to help me out.

As I left my snowboard behind at the Welcome Center to retrace my steps up the hill (yup, the ultimate walk of shame) and then across a ridge and down the first lift I boarded before I last used my phone, I kept trying to tell my friends trying to help not to worry and enjoy their day without me, but Yuhan, Bruce, David, Eric, Taejin, Kunal, Natalie, Sujay, and Jeffrey all insisted on staying behind to look for my phone.

So signing into my iCloud account on Yuhan’s phone, I was able to track my phone somewhere in the woodsy area of the slopes, only to see it begin moving 3-4 minutes later down a trail. We then spent the next 30 minutes trying to call it with Eric’s phone, Natalie trying to call it, Kunal, Eric and Bruce going up and down looking and calling, David going up and down the lift looking (even letting me borrow his phone temporarily in case we got split up), but then after trying to compare digital maps (Find My iPhone on iCloud somehow doesn’t give your own location to track relative to where the phone is) on Yuhan’s phone we realized the phone had eventually made its way back to where we were standing at the bottom of the ACE Family Quad Ski Lift.

Taejin began yelling for it and Jeffrey snowboarded back with my snowboard in hand so I didn’t have to walk all the way back. Soon, my Apple Watch caught a signal when it detected my phone nearby, and from the watch I was able to play a sound to my phone. Hearing the ping, I ran to my happy reunion when a helpful ski instructor Iti of Hokkaido Ski Club school (who had found it somewhere uphill) had brought it back down to us.

I offered to buy her a drink at our dinner at Temporada tonight so hopefully I’ll see her there!

Later in the evening, we reconvened for dinner at the much more open and public Temporada for their tapas.

Who eats dessert before dinner at every. single. meal?

By far our biggest surprise meal of the trip:

During dinner I was able to walk across past the famed Green Farm Deli Café . . .

. . . to add 2 more (our last minute sign ups Eric and Kunal) to our maximum 12-person reservation at Kamimura in 2 nights. Success!

Day 6

There is not much than having breakfast with new friends in a new place.

Another full day of skiing the powder paradise of Niseko.

Today we spent most of our day exploring Niseko-Annupuri where I celebrated breaking my top speed record of 46.5mph before also having my biggest wipeout of my skiing career; it was such a bad side somersault on a hairpin turn that I almost lost my GoPro when it flew off my helmet and tumbled down the valley.

But thanks to the repeated heroic efforts of David and Eric who without hesitating went down to get it (and me tagging behind for moral support) we retrieved it and continued along an ungroomed trail. Other than a detached GoPro, my only injury I felt was a tight right biceps tendon. Whew!

We then met up for lunch at the swanky Mandala Club where we celebrated Jenny’s successful but harrowing experience descending from the top after taking the wrong chairlift!

By this point we were getting tired of being at the mercy of overcrowded public transportation, or nonexistent and anemic number of cabs in the area. So thanks to Megan’s contact on TYW, a local rental car company in Hirafu named Peak Rentals contacted us to lend their only and last minute Delica minivan that a prior customer had to give up early due to issues with their international driver’s permit. Meant to be! Otherwise everything had been fully booked.

Paying a little extra to have the rental car be dropped off for Lydia, Natalie, and Jenny at Mandala Club, they drove off to grab groceries at Kutchan while the rest of us continuing to ski the Annupuri side of Niseko.

As the lifts began to close one by one around 4pm and having been unable to make it across to Hirafu from Annupuri because of the high winds that shut down the main gondolas, we got creative with getting our feet wet at tree skiing. But after Jeff hit his head on a branch, we called it early and set up a base camp inside the Hilton Niseko nearby.

A Niseko United Shuttle Bus then pulled up to the front within minutes where it could take us to the nearby dairy farm 8 minutes away shortly before it closed. After rushing to catch it (and where I slipped on some black ice and landed on my left hip), we couldn’t board anyway because it was too crowded. Resigned to wait another hour for the next Niseko United Shuttle Bus or for Natalie to come with out rental car to take us home after they’d be done with groceries, I hailed a cab for Jeff, Eric, and Bruce to make more room in the rental car. Then miraculously, just like what had happened the night before, I refreshed Google Maps to see another Niseko United Shuttle bus appear out of nowhere right in front of us.

We headed back out to a much emptier bus (and not slipping and falling this time!) for 2 stops south, running into the nearby dairy farm just in time before it closed.

As Sapporo happens to provide dairy to the entirety of the country of Japan, we put the quality to the test with the assortment of ice cream and cheesecakes at Niseko Takahashi Dairy Farm.

Because we had arrived at the dairy farm literally minutes before closing, we kept the door open so Natalie, Lydia and Jenny could make it in as well with our new rental car. And after satisfying ourselves with enough ice cream to last the rest of the night, the 10 of us with 3 pairs of skis and 4 snowboards got creative with seating + ski gear + snowboards + groceries arrangements inside the 8 person car.

Arriving back at our house safe and sound, we moved up our plans to have a home-cooked dinner for tonight instead as Jenny wanted to experience one before leaving us a day earlier for her best friend’s wedding in Vietnam.

Some guest appearances from TYW Greece:

As our chats got more and more cerebral after dinner, we even FaceTimed Paul at 2:30am so he wouldn’t miss out on the snow.

Day 7

Today is a rest day! For our second to last day I slept into a lazy morning while Natalie, Lydia, Sujay, Taejin, Lyla, and Andre took the rental car to Hanazono for their early 9:30am snowmobiling activity we had pre-booked. However, after waking up, I had a change of heart and wanted to try another day of skiing. However, the attempt was feeble at best as no cabs were available all morning.

With the whole morning to ourselves we had intended to visit Daibutsuji, a local Buddhist Temple, but gave into a sushi lunch nearby instead.

After the snowmobilers returned, we took the rental car and the only available cab in the region for all of us to meet at the Niseko Grand Hotel for their onsen. It’s the only one in the area that has a co-ed area for our group to intermingle.

After about an hour an half there planning the rest of our trip and making plans for our next one (can you believe it’s winding down ALREADY?!), we then returned back to our house to dress up for our fine dining experience at Michelin-starred French/Japanese restaurant Kamimura.

Kamimura Chef’s Degustation

Strawberry & Elderflower Tart
beetroot, pinot meunier, mascarpone

Niseko Tomato Salad
burdock, ginger, mozzarella, cucumber, eggplant

The best truffle butter accompanied by Hokkaido milk bread and sourdough

Hokkaido Trout Salmon
horseradish, tofu cream, quail’s egg, potato chips

Oumu Hairy Crab Sandwich
garlic, chive

Kutchan Egg Custard Soup
black maitake mushroom, duck & chicken broth

Monbetsu Puffer Fish Tempura
sour plum, brown rice risotto, dried seaweed

Braised Endive
duck prosciutto, mimolette

Char-grilled Hokkaido Wagyu Tenderloin
kutchan aged potato, veal jus

Gateau Marjolaine
apple, almond, vanilla ice cream

Petit fours with a phenomenon truffle oil truffle:

With the snow falling like feathers outside our windows, Kamimura’s dining area looks like it came out of a lo-fi YouTube background video.

Day 8: Rusutsu

Saying a goodbye to Yuhan and Jenny who would leave a day earlier today, the rest of us (Taejin, David, Eric, Natalie, Jeffrey, Sujay, Brett, Kunal, and myself) headed on an optional day trip to the nearby slopes of Rusutsu, famous for its tree skiing. Packages may or may not include a lift ticket, so we purchased ours ahead of time online.

Megan picked us up at 8:15am and drove us the 45min distance from Hirafu to Rusutsu.

Once you arrive at the resort, the lobby looks like a weird winter wonderland from hell.

Thankfully, Megan was also our personal guide on the slopes; I had been otherwise furiously distracted, simultaneously trying to make sure Jenny actually had a bus transfer back to the airport since it was made as a separate booking a few weeks ago. I even got Megan to find her colleague as a backup private taxis for Jenny to drive her to the airport for $200 USD.

But with obstinate determination to look up all the names and bookings in all the bus companies we were able to confirm Jenny did indeed have a bus back home. Whew! And in the name of good karma, I even was able to come across a lost phone that was left behind at one of Rusutsu’s cafeterias, babysitting it for a few minutes before its owner came back to retrieve it. It all comes around after what had happened to my phone in Niseko 3 days ago!

All this while, Megan helpfully showed around the groomed trails…

…and for those of us brave enough to try, we then took tree skiing for a spin in the afternoon.

And spun around and around we did as by the time we returned to the house in the evening we were beat up and EXHAUSTED, and barely had enough energy for a quick grab and go dinner from a nearby food truck.

But as much as we wanted to sleep in early, we all rallied one more time for a pregame and karaoke nearby organized by Megan with other Yacht Week crew members who also happened to be in the same are at the same time!

And therefore for one final hurrah, we joined Megan on a private shuttle bus out from their nearby lodging for karaoke with our TYW extended family Orlagh and Jake, our skippers back from Yacht Week Greece!

Karaoke and its all-you-can-drink-beer…lasted only an hour before we were wiped out clean from total exhaustion.

Day 9: Return to Normal Life

Not getting much sleep after karaoke the night before, we began our check out early at 6:30am and left our rentals at the accommodations for Rhythm Niseko to pick up.

A private shuttle was then supposed to come by to take us back to the airport but there was a small scare when it was Holiday Niseko vans that mistakenly took us to the Hirafu Welcome Center instead. By then it was 7:30am, and according to the reservation if we were not on our private bus some way or another, it would leave without us.

It was only when I pulled up the reservation myself on my phone, looked past the email (which said our private bus would pick us up from our house) to access the booking portal online, and found out that the private shuttle company had designated our pickup location to a nearby Lawson Station, that Holiday Niseko staff saw it themselves and then scrambled to get us there in time. Despite the mixup and being a few minutes late, our driver thankfully deviated from the script of leaving at 7:30am and waited a little longer for us.

After a sleepy 2 hour drive to the airport, we disembarked, retrieved our luggage, thanked our driver, checked in at our respective flights, wandered the airport a bit, loaded up on coffee, and had famous shrimp ramen one more time together before we all started to peel off one by one…

… or two by two…

…and then it was me when I boarded my 2:40pm flight to Taipei.

Firstly, thank you Megan⁩ for everything. For choosing Niseko as your second home and making it a home for us when we invited ourselves to join you on this secret life of yours. Thank you for sharing this life with us.

Thank you also for making yourself available in coordinating all the lessons, finding us a rental car at the last minute, taking us to Rusutsu, joining us for dinner & drinks as busy as you were, organizing a last night party for us where we would’ve otherwise stayed in, and always making an effort to be a core member of our group. Looking forward to seeing you again whether on a snowboard or a yacht. ❤️

And everyone else, you too. You’re the trip. You made it the trip for everyone else. Thank you for looking out for one another and being a true team where I had the special privilege of witnessing that beautiful process when strangers become friends. Everyone belonged in their own way and had a part and isn’t that what everyone in this world is looking for? 🥹

Enjoy the rest of your travels and remember, there are no goodbyes with us. “See you sooner.”

- At time of posting in Niseko, it was -5 °C - Humidity: 90% | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: a magical winter wonderland

The post Bee’s Nise-ko appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet the Shredding Ski Bums!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 24 Jan 2024 13:58:46 +0000

From a Yacht Week collaboration to a reunion to a new trip with the opposite climate, one borne out of Yacht Week to make our very own Ski Week in Hokkaido!

Our returners:

Megan “Our Favorite Bagel” Whyte: returning from our chef from our last Yacht Week trip with The Greek Epic, and the French Polynesia to become one of our official ski and snowboard instructors who also happens to be officially employed at Niseko United (and also the inspiration for this trip in the first place!)
Sujay “Chief Siesta Officer” Sheth: 5 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic, South Korea, Svalbard, Vancouver and Sardinia
Bruce “Forgot to Put a Sock on the Handle” Zhang: a 3 time monsooner returning from Svalbard, The Faroe Islands and the French Polynesia
Lyla “Queen of the Limbo” Kamigaki: a 2 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic and the French Polynesia
Lydia “Run Ajumma Run” Chan: a 2 time monsooner returning from The Faroe Islands and Wales
Andre “Zaddy Zinger” Thomas: returning from The Greek Epic
YuHan “Chief Barista Officer” Lee: returning from The Greek Epic
Jeffrey “Field of Dreams” Wing: returning from The Greek Epic
Taejin “Spicy Ramen” Kim: returning from The Greek Epic
Kunal “Chief Dance Officer” Desai: returning from The Greek Epic

That said, we introduce our next generation of monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain! My Captain!" Sun - Expedition Leader | Emergency Physician | NYC

Megan "Our Favorite Bagel" Whyte - Returning Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia)

Lyla "Queen of the Limbo" Kamigaki – Returning Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia) | Real Estate | NYC

Jeffrey "Field of Dreams" Wing - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | Advertising

Kunal "Tomorrowland" Desai - Bay Area, CA

YuHan "YuPhotography" Lee - SF

Natalie "Snow Goggles" T. - Singapore

Jenny "Whistle & Fizz" N. - NYC

Sujay "Chief Siesta Officer" Sheth - Senior Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Apr. '23 (South Korea & Jeju), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Feb. '22 (Whistler), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica) | Radiologist | Chicago

Bruce “Forgot to Put a Sock on the Handle” Zhang - Return Monsooner: Apr. '22 (French Polynesia) | NYC | Medical Scribe

Lydia "Run Ajumma Run" C. - Return Monsooner: Aug. '22 (Faroe Islands), May '22 (Wales) | Newburgh, NY

Andre "Zaddy Zinger" Thomas - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | Germany, NYC

Taejin “Spicy Ramen” Kim - Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic) | ATL

David P.

Brett "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" Margolias - Emergency Physician | NYC

Eric K. - Seoul, South Korea

And where we’re actually monsooning through this coming February 2024:

Niseko

Rusutsu

We still have spots available, but not for long!

Want to join us? More details about the trip can be found here: Hokkaido 2024.

The post Meet the Shredding Ski Bums! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Feelin’ Like A “Malabo”ratory Experiment

Calvin Sun — Sat, 13 Jan 2024 20:19:59 +0000

Our marathon tour and last foray across West Africa ends in Malabo on the island of Bioko, the capital city of Equatorial Guinea.

From Douala, we boarded a ET913 flight at 12:35pm, landing in Malabo at SSG airport after only 20 minutes in the air at 1:20pm in the afternoon.

We were able to obtain our e-visas online beforehand on their new VFS Global platform. Make sure you’re applying on a desktop PC, and NOT on a mobile phone or any Mac/Apple product. I learned this the hard way by brute forcing all the possible reasons why it wasn’t initially working for me.

Once showing our e-visa papers and QR code, they made us fill out a quick declarations form, asked to write any Equatorial-based phone number at the top (we put down our hotel’s), and then stamped us in.

We were then picked up at arrivals by our ride sent from Magno Suites.

Thinking we wouldn’t see Mike again as he was supposed to stay somewhere else with better WiFi, we took a group photo and said our goodbyes:

Once at check in, we asked if we could hire a driver to take us around the city for a quick tour, but as Magno Hotel was trying to find someone, Mike appeared again with his own tour guide and driver that he had booked a few weeks back saying that the hotel he wanted had no air conditioning. It was meant to be! So as he had to get on a call for work, he lent us his driver and local guide Begoña for the day.

Malabo was originally founded as Port Clarence in 1827 by the British, who leased the island from Spain during the colonial period to suppress the slave trade. Therefore newly freed slaves settled there, prior to the establishment of Sierra Leone as a formal colony for freed slaves. While many later relocated to Sierra Leone, some of their descendants called Fernandinos remained and passed down their generations in Malabo. They now constitute a distinct ethnic group, speaking their own Afro-Portuguese pidgin dialect. Including that, it is also the only official Spanish speaking country in Africa.

After the island reverted to Portuguese and then back to Spanish control, Malabo was renamed Santa Isabel and replaced Bata, located in the mainland, as the capital in 1827. It was later renamed to Malabo, after a tribal king, as part of President Nguema’s campaign to replace European names with “authentic” African ones. And it was also Macías Nguema who led a near-genocide of the country’s Bubi minority in order to replace them with his people, the Fang, in Malabo. Equatorial Guinea was then referred to the “Auschwitz of Africa,” as up to 1/3 of the population fled the country during the final years of his rule. It has since been recovering.

Malabo can be hard to navigate as a tourist because its palace grounds on the eastern side of Malabo are supposed to be off-limits. Therefore, the heart of the city for a tourist to explore would be the old town and historic quarter of Malabo, beginning with the palace like grounds of city hall, where the mayor works.

Thanks to Begoña, we were able to go inside and see some of its local artwork.

If you have time, we were recommended to visit the Universidad Nacional de Guinea Ecuatorial (UNGE), which grassy campus surrounds a statue of Teodoro Obiang, the current president of Equatorial Guinea.

The original buildings on campus were built by the Spanish colonizers, reflecting Spanish colonial architectural style with low sprawling building and generous use of arches.

Spanish style St. Elizabeth’s Cathedral built in the early 20th century.

Begoña walked around the cathedral to ask someone to let us inside:

The patron saint of the island:

If you’re okay with a little dirt and dust, you can climb up to the top of both towers, which experience reminded me when I climbed up all the minarets in Guinea-Conakry:

It’s probably here in the other, farther tower from the first ladders where you can get an actual idea of what Malabo looks like:

The cathedral is surrounded by Spanish colonial-style buildings, a rebuilt Sofitel under construction at the time of posting, and the President’s House . . .

. . . as well as a gorgeous view of the harbor.

Afterwards we retired at the famous and well regarded Café Malabo.

A few blocks away was an e-commerce shopping district that has now been completely shut down after a recent police sting.

After 3 hours there relaxing, eating, and smoking shisha at Café Malabo while waiting for Begoña to finish her call, we then took a stroll with her and our driver along the newly developed waterfront of numerous sparsely attended but still open restaurants and shisha bars.

We stopped at a new beach bar that Begoña seemed to be very proud of:

And just as I thought how everything seemed to be working out just swell for a region such as West Africa for the past 17 days, that’s when everything started falling apart. While relaxing at Café Malabo, I received a text from Tripit.com informing me that one of the legs of my return itinerary home (DLA to BRU of an SSG-DLA-ADD-BRU-JFK itinerary) — all at least business class which I had redeemed miles for (whew) — was cancelled due to a wildcat surprise Brussels Airlines pilot strike beginning tomorrow. That meant after flying SSG to DLA, I would be stuck in DLA with no onward flight.

Not worried at first, I waited until dinner back at Magno Hotel to sort everything out. But then while on the line with both Brussels and United Airlines customer support, on an important zoom call, and our having sat down for what we thought would be a quick dinner, the internet completely cut out for the entire hotel: Rooms, the restaurant, reception, etc. all gone. I scrambled to find alternatives but without cellular data, my T-Mobile and GoogleFi not working, no SIM or e-SIM backup, and the hotel reception looking totally clueless (they too said they couldn’t go online and claimed it was island-wide), I ran out of options.

But thanks to a helpful Good Samaritan standing next to me, he let me borrow his hotspot for 20 minutes as he and his partner waited for me to finish at least one round of customer service checks. I then thanked him, said he could charge whatever drinks at the bar to my room, and tried to find other sources for WiFi so I could find a return flight home.

The hotel staff then asked an employee friend to let me borrow her hotspot, after which another 40 minutes went by with United Customer Support on both Skype and online chat with no progress. Brussels Airlines’ offered an alternative option would had me stay another day here in Malabo for an SSG-CMA-EWR flight. However, being on a 1 day transit visa here, I didn’t want to risk another unnecessary night. Brussels Airlines then gave up on me saying that for other options, I had to work with who I originally booked with, which was United. But the United online chat was going nowhere, so it was now down to my United customer representative over Skype.

I also looked up other flights myself, where the ideal replacement would have been to continue an extra leg with Sandy and Letti tomorrow from SSG to DLA to ADD to then board a direct ADD to NYC flight the next day. However, United’s website wouldn’t let me proceed without speaking to a representative, who in turn and already on the phone with me, said this alternative itinerary seemed to be completely booked and they too, could not do it. Back to square one.

After another hour (it was around 10:30pm by this point and I had completely skipped dinner with Letti, Sandy, and Mike; they sadly ate my portions after I had excused myself), a supervisor from United named Enn was able to take over and seemed way more competent than all my previous representatives. However, the generous person who had lent me her hotspot now wanted her phone back and return home (also asking me for money in the process), so I told Enn I might lose connection and I had no call-back number for her. Enn reassured me she’d stay on and that I could always call back and resume with her.

I held my breath and switched the WiFi back to the hotel’s WiFi router, which at this point (about 2 hours after it went down) was finally back up again. Luckily Skype was able to hold enough of a connection to allow a router switch and the call quality with Enn even improved. Little steps.

Enn then continued, saying she was able to keep my SSG to DLA, continue me onto IST on Turkish Airlines 12 hours later (eek, DLA is not an easy airport to spend a 12 hour layover in, by the way), and then IST back to NYC. I agreed to this, but then Enn got back to me saying it was also fully booked. Back to square one.

Another 10 minutes went by and Enn suggested that I still continue onto ADD on Ethiopian Airlines from DLA, and then have me fly to FCO/Rome, and then FCO to NYC. Little steps. However, there was the next snag: because I had already checked into my prior itinerary before it had been cancelled, Enn could not rebook me unless I “un-check-in” from the Ethiopian Airlines portion of SSG-DLA-ADD. Back to square one.

Since there was no option to do that on Ethiopian Airlines’ website, Enn told me to call Ethiopian Airlines’ customer support instead. I replied that I did not have access to a second phone nor could I do a conference call with my signal strength, so Enn helpfully did it herself. After I waited another 20 minutes on hold, Enn came back and said she was able to connect with an Ethiopian Airlines’ representative who in turn informed us I could e-mail reservation[at]ethiopianairlines[dot]com with a copy of my confirmation number, passport, and request to un-check in.

After another 20 minutes, Enn came back and said I had been successfully un-checked in and she was able to rebook me from SSG-DLA-ADD-FCO-EWR. Wow wow wow. Finish line.

I thanked Enn, not caring that she had to downgrade me from business to economy (middle seat middle row, oof, what a jump down) on the SSG-DLA-ADD portion. I then texted Letti, Sandy and Mike to leave without me for a 7:30am morning tour they had scheduled with Begoña, and that I would meet them on the way to the airport instead at 10:30am. After nearly 5 hours on the phone, I was in bed by 2am.

But instead of sleeping in as I would have expected, I woke up at 6:30am on my own and couldn’t go back to sleep. Using the extra time, I packed my things and decided to still join them on their morning tour because what would be my other options? I even called United again asking if it was possible to get me back on business class from SSG-DLA-ADD (since that what was what I had originally booked), but this new representative said it was impossible as the DLA-ADD part was sold out for business class and that I should request compensation from United on their website instead. So I did just that and then joined Letti, Sandy and Mike for breakfast downstairs where it was storytime until Begoña came to pick us up.

If you stayed with me this far, then I hope I made it more interesting for you to read than what I had experienced last night.

Although our original morning plan was to return back to the hotel to use the airport shuttle (which I had booked only a few minutes before Begoña had arrived), Begoña agreed to take us directly from the morning tour to the airport herself. So I unbooked the hotel shuttle and went back upstairs to pack the rest of my things and bring it downstairs. Mike then started feeling a little GI upset and debated whether to back out, but after hugging us goodbye and seeing us get into our cars, he relented and rejoined us anyway. Yeah, nothing feels direct here.

Our first step was to drive east towards Sipopo Beach where we passed by the President of Equatorial Guinea taking a morning walk with his military garrison on the other side of the highway. Because of the presidential stroll, we could go only as far as the Sofitel Le Golf where they wanted to charge us 5,000 CFAs per person to enjoy their portion of Sipopo Beach. We asked to take a quick peek first before agreeing.

After a quick stroll to the beach and meeting a Lufthansa flight attendant there (they were all staying there), we headed back into our cars and drove to the main market.

Compared to other markets we’ve strolled on this trip, Malabo’s seemed very well organized.

Then it was goodbye to our 17 days for real; we bid Mike farewell one last and 3rd time and headed to SSG airport for our return flights home.

Think I encountered any issues there too? You bet I did!

While checking-in, the agent said she saw I had a double booking for SSG-DLA: one was my original business class seat and the other was my newer rebooking on economy. And although she could see both reservations, she could not see a ticket for my latter booking. Therefore I was then escorted into a back office where a very American English-speaking Ethiopian Airlines staff member worked everything out. I then got my ticket and proceeded past passports and security to get in some lounge time.

However, despite the lounge being listed on Priority Pass, the staff SSG’s only lounge said they would not take Priority Pass and there were no other lounges. And although they still took in business class passengers (which half of my itinerary was for and I had an old SSG-ADD business class e-ticket), they would not take my e-ticket. It was only until we befriended a UN employee from China inside the lounge where they relented for us to stay for 20 minutes before finally wanting to kick us out.

Unceremoniously we headed out to our gate and I’m now trying to get this all out before I forget any details. What a shit way to end the trip but at least we’re all safe and well on our way with our return flights home!.

My middle seat? Luckily I’m now sitting in a row that I have all to myself! OK, it all works out. Even if yeah, nothing feels direct here.

(20 minutes later)

Wait, never mind, someone wants to share the row with me. At least we have an open middle seat between us to spread out.

(4 hours later)

…and then with about an hour before landing, someone asked to take our middle seat to watch a movie. OK. Interesting.

Landing 6 hours later in Addis Ababa airport, I was able to sneak Sandy into its Cloud 9 Business Class Lounge for legit Ethiopian coffee.

Then after walking her to her gate and onward flight to Hong Kong, I packed up my stuff back in the lounge and boarded my business class rebooking to Rome. The new Ethiopian Airlines Business Class cabin has so much storage!

Then after another 6 hours in the air I arrived at 4:30am to a very empty Rome airport:

I had to go through security twiceover to look for a lounge that was open and I could spend my next 4 hours in. It looks like the only one would be the Primeclass Lounge I had spent time in 2 years ago.

Then at 9am I boarded my United Polaris Class flight back home.

I approve of its new partnership with Therabody:

On the way back I almost got into a Lyft as my typical ride home from the airport, but something in me spoke in my head to take the AirTrain and NJ Transit train back from Newark Airport. Half an hour later, the gut feeling revealed itself: While boarding the train, I ran into Valerie from our COVID-19 testing days:

- At time of posting in Malabo, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 80% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear, humid again

The post Feelin’ Like A “Malabo”ratory Experiment appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Lights, Cameroon, Action!

Calvin Sun — Thu, 11 Jan 2024 18:32:33 +0000

Last night in Libreville, our power had went out in our Airbnb in the middle of the night so with the AC not working I woke up at 3:15am to humidity and sweat. How I was able to still fall back asleep remains a mystery to me.

After 2 days in Gabon, the 3 of us set out at 7am and took our same driver back to LBV airport for a 9:50am Air Senegal HC342 flight to Douala, the economic capital of Cameroon.

After paying an offering staff member 10,000 CFAs to skip the ridiculously long line outside the airport just to check in, we’d find that our flight would be delayed anyway, so we made the most of the Priority Pass Samba lounge at LBV.

We landed at 11am local time.

For the past 8 months since last April, Cameroon has been piloting an e-visa program for international visitors. So new that 3 months ago I got my visa within a week but for the wrong dates, whereas Sandy in Singapore got hers for the correct ones. Luckily Ruthy Amenge monitors the Every Passport Stamp boards and reached out about this, identifying herself as someone who works within the Cameroonian embassy on the e-visa program and got me expedited for the proper dates when I reapplied.

If you have an e-visa approval QR code from its website and once you arrive at the airport, head to the e-visa room prior to passports control to get your real visa. If there’s any issues with your QR code as Sandy did, there’s also E-Visa kiosks just outside the room (around the Health Inspection Kiosk) to redo it.

Then get stamped in at regular passports:

Showing our visas upon our arrival and avoiding shouting customs officers, we were picked up by our van sent from our swanky hotel accommodations at K Hotel Douala.

Douala, being more of a business destination, leaves much to be desired for the typical tourist, so we made the best of it.

A little too early to check in, we stored our bags at the hotel and walked over to the colonial-era Place du Gouvernement:

It faces a park housing a World War I memorial to the Unknown Soldier:

Doual’art, a small museum showcasing street art and artwork by locals for the community is housed across the street in La Pagode, also a sight to see and an abandoned structure and restaurant that was once the Palace of the Kings Bell.

It was at Doual’art when I ran into Mike Z, who had been in contact with me ever since I had posted about my visit to Mecca 2 years ago on the Every Passport Stamp forums. Reorganizing our itinerary around at his recommendation, we went back to K Hotel where one of its drivers took us up north and around Douala for 2 hours.

Because it was little farther out, we hailed a cab for a round trip beginning around La Nouvelle Liberté, located at a roundabout which is home to a recycled metal structure designed by Cameroonian artist Joseph-Francis Sumégnél in the 1990s. It’s supposed to be a symbol expressing freedom.

Heading back downtown elements of Sawa architecture and culture can be found at Palais Dika Akwa, which was the former estate of a noted anthropologist named Dika Akwa.

We then dined at the highly recommend La Fourchette for lunch:

Finally on our round trip back to K Hotel where Mike had to return to his room to make a work meeting, we quickly stopped in the Cathedral of St Peter and Paul Bonadibong:

After checking into our rooms, Letti, Sandy and I headed back out for another walk around town and stopped fist at the Ancienne Residence du Chef de Circonscription, or the former residence of the French District Chief in the Cameroon:

It’s right next to Monument Nachtigal, dedicated to a German military surgeon who explored much of Central and West Africa.

Then we paid a visit to the Maritime Museum at the end of our walk south.

It’s a quick visit, with 2 floors on Cameroon’s colonial past when the Germans were here and its navy capabilities.

The rooftop from the Maritime Museum overlooks the port:

Running out of things to do, we bought some ginger tea from a local tea stand and admired some of the decaying buildings and neighborhoods by the port.

The port itself:

We then slowly meandered back to the city at sunset.

- At time of posting in Douala, it was 30 °C - Humidity: 75% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and humid

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Libreville Me From Another Coup, So Gabon With It!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 10 Jan 2024 18:48:27 +0000

We were worried whether the bloodless peaceful (if there is ever such a thing) coup d’état that took place here in Gabon less than only 4 months ago would affect our chances getting here. The coup had been the conclusion to a 56-year-long rule of the Bongo family in Gabon and happened to be the 8th successful coup to occur in West and Central Africa since 2020.

But believe it or not, other than the e-visa website not working requiring us to apply for a visa in person (which only took us 5 minutes at the consulate!), we got in just fine as if there was no coup at all!

To obtain a visa for Gabon, you’ll need to present at or mail the following to the Consulate of New York:

Filled out and signed application form
- E-mail or call for them to email you a PDF copy of the application; they reply relatively quickly to both
Copy of yellow fever vaccination card
Copy of your flight itinerary
1 passport size photo
Money order of $200 (for same day) payable to the Consulate of Gabon
Original passport
If sending my mail: include a self-stamped envelope that is either express-mail or FedEx for the return of your passport
- Letti had sent hers from Las Vegas, NV to the Consulate in NYC and got her passport back with the Gabonese visa within 72 hours!

If you prefer to show up the consulate in person, schedule an appointment (again, whether by phone or e-mail, they’re pretty good at replying) any Tuesday at 12pm noon for a staff member to receive your visa application and passport.

I originally thought “same day” would mean a visa within hours requiring me to return later in the day, but it was actually minutes. I had first presented $180 to my appointment for the one week turnaround, and she said if I didn’t mind creating another $20 money order that I could get from a Chase Bank downstairs, I could get my visa by the time I returned. 10 minutes later (and running into a fan of The Monsoon Diaries on the street right outside!), she was true to her word and I got my visa! Fastest turnaround visa experience ever at a consulate. The only thing faster would be a visa on arrival.

From São Tomé, we stamped out of the country at a very basic passport office in front of security.

We then boarded an early early 7am ASKY Airlines KP 61 flight from TMS to Libreville.

With only 5 of us on a jumbo airline, we landed at 9am local time and was personally escorted from the skybridge to the terminal.

Showing our Gabon visas, we were let through while Sandy sweetly charmed them to let her get in on a transit visa for €70.

We were then picked up outside arrivals 20 minutes later by a driver named Lionel, who was reserved ahead of time by our Airbnb host Vanessa.

Having arrived so early before check-in, she agreed for us to enjoy a tour of Libreville beforehand, so we drove into the city along the main thoroughfare where demonstrations and military parades are usually held.

We first stopped at the 19th century Notre Dame de Lourdes Church, known for its front façade and hand-painted white and blue tapestry on the retable behind the altar:

We were lucky to run into the head Priest there who hails from Burgundy, France and is part of the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign.

We then drove to the Church of St. Michael Nkembo (L’Eglise St-Michel), unique for its Pan-African mosaic on its pediment.

Head around the front on the right for the side entrance inside. Locals were very kind in showing us it was free to enter.

When here, pay attention to its 31 wooden columns carved by Gabonese artist Zéphyrin Lendogno that depict stories from the Old and New Testament.

Next, we drove for more churches at the area around Cathédrale Sainte Marie.

It was built in 1958 by Bishop Adama on the site of the former Fort d’Aumale, the cathedral hosted Pope John Paul II when he visited in 1981.

Although it looks much newer, a much older Notre Dame church sits behind the Cathedrale Sainte Marie that has been recently renovated:

We then drove by the Presidential Palace (Palais Presidentiel), which shall not be photographed (like every other presidential palace in West Africa).

Those feeling a little daring may also want to get a quick look at Cour Constitutionnelle du Gabon next door, another Gabonese government building you shouldn’t photograph.

Finally we stopped at Memorial Leon Mba, commemorating the first president of Gabon in 1960.

With a little extra time before check-in, we did some shopping for handmade bracelets at the Grand Village Artisans:

At this point Vanessa recommended that we check in first before visiting the museum but our driver, Lionel, insisted it was too early with an hour left. So we heeded his advice and paid the 4000 CFA entry fee for Gabon’s highly rated National Museum of Arts, Rites and Traditions of Gabon:

True to its reputation, the museum is certainly impressively high-tech, and even boasts a VR part at the end that takes you in on a very wordy and French spelunking adventure in a specific cave where they found the earliest recorded human remains and use of tools in central Gabon (they’re very proud of this cave here).

Having been up since 5am without any breakfast in our system, we then stayed even longer at the museum for an equally impressive lunch at the attached restaurant.

With our energy back now having food in our system, we happily drove over to check into our Airbnb where Lionel then asked us for 10,000 more CFA for spending an hour longer of his time (even though I bought him lunch!). I told him he should have let us know it would cost more when we had initially asked to check in before the museum and not put us in a bait-and-switch position. He then seemed to let it go and confirmed he’d take us to the airport the next morning at 7am.

Once inside the Airbnb, we started the laundry and both Lauren and Sandy took a catnap to catch up on sleep. At 5pm they were up again and we resumed our tour of Libreville with a walk along the the seafront (bord de mer) where locals relax facing the Atlantic Ocean as if it were Havana’s malecon.

Gabonese sculptures up to 20 feet tall line the seafront and the beach.

We walked a good 45 minutes along the seaside Independence Boulevard until reaching La Baie Des Rois, a new development property and neighborhood that looks to be the next big thing in Libreville.

As the sun began to set we sat down at La Braisere for an unexpectedly great mixed grill platter dinner.

And before it got too late where the taxis would begin to double their prices, we walked around a little more around before catching a friendly cab driver outside to take us back to our Airbnb for only 3000 Central CFAs.

- At time of posting in Gabon, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 89% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

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São Tomé & Away!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 10 Jan 2024 03:04:35 +0000

São Tomé & Príncipe were a handful of islands first discovered by the Portuguese in the late 15th century but settling proved difficult due to its remote location. Therefore the earliest inhabitants were “undesirables” sent from Portugal, mostly Jews and enslaved Africans, to cultivate coffee beans, cocoa beans, and sugar. Modern day São Tomé inhabitants are now mostly descended from people from different countries who had been taken to the islands by the Portuguese from 1470 onwards.

Then in 1990, São Tomé was one of the first African nations to undertake democratic reforms, and with exception of a single week it has maintained democratic government since. Similar to Cape Verde, São Tomé & Principé fuses European and African influences.

90% of the island is also covered by trees . . .

. . . so although there may not be much to see in terms of man-made sites, plenty of its gorgeous natural scenery more than makes up for that:

On our first full day here, Letti and I took a risk with a once in a lifetime chance to see Príncipe having booked a fully sold out flight as far back as 6 months ago. As for the other 2 in the group who couldn’t get flights there as they had signed up later for this trip, Lauren (who wanted a private tour to herself) and Sandy, in the meantime negotiated over different drivers to explore the northern part of São Tomé.

From the city center you can glimpse and visit Fort São Sebastião. Built in 1575, the fort was refurbished in 2006 and is now the São Tomé National Museum.

One of the more easily accessible plantations, Monte Café, boasts a coffee museum that Lauren briefly visited while Letti and I were in Príncipe:

In the capital itself, you can walk around and take in the old Portuguese colonial style architecture reminiscent of that you may find in other former Portuguese colonies such as Cape Verde or in Guinea-Bissau.

The Roman Catholic Our Lady of Grace Cathedral/Cathedral of São Tomé (Catedral de São Tomé) dates back to the 15th century and then renovated in 1956 in an eclectic revival style with a neo-romanesque main façade.

Like in Bissau’s center, the main cathedral faces an independence square and Presidential Palace that shall not be photographed:

The next morning with all 4 of us back together, Waldimiro offered to take us on a tour south of the city for originally a whopping €300, but we were able to negotiate it down to €150.

By 9:30am we set out on his 4×4.

Our first stop about 45 minutes in: If you were to combine Giant’s Causeway of Ireland and Thor’s Well in the US Pacific Northwest, you’d get São Tomé’s Boca do Inferno (Mouth of Hell).

The basalt columns resembles that of Giant’s Causeway:

. . . while its official name comes from how ocean waves would enter an underwater cave and with nowhere to go at the end, shoot straight up like a geyser.

After enjoying some coconut water there we continued south to visit the nearly empty Praia das Sete Ondas; Beach of 7 Waves.

We then visited Sao Joao dos Angolares, a colonial-era plantation or roça like the one at Cafe Monte.

It boasts an impressive open kitchen concept that chefs around the world that are part of Portuguese diaspora have taken advantage of.

After another hour on the road we entered Obo Natural Park for unobstructed views of the majestic Pico Cão Grande:

Stunning.

Continuing further into the national park, there was a section where even driving at 40 miles per hour we saw an neverending array of these impressive forest tunnels for what felt like a whole 5 minutes:

We finally ended our southern roadtrip at Porto Alegre.

For €10 a person we boarded a motorized speedboat for 10 minutes across the bay to visit the islet of Ilhéu das Rolas:

How can you get more remote than either São Tomé or Príncipe? Well, ladies and gentleman there’s Ilhéu das Rolas:

Once we disembarked, Waldimiro beckoned us to follow him through the village . . .

. . . and then through a forest . . .

. . . then taking a right headed up a hill . . .

. . . reaching where the equator crosses on one of the land masses closest to 0º latitude, 0º longitude (although not THAT close; officially we were 0.0069ºS, 6.5223ºE).

None of us were expecting this (I had thought this statuette was in Príncipe and we had totally missed it).

After taking our photos here, we headed down through the botanical gardens on a different path back to the beach.

This was a thoughtful, awe-inspiring forest path; it wasn’t a surprise that Lauren would linger behind long enough here for Waldimiro and his friend to turn back and try to find her (she still has a flight to catch in 6 hours!).

Seeing that Lauren had an outbound flight back home at 10pm and it was already 3:30pm by the time we finished our walk, we debated whether to skip lunch so she could still fit in a visit to another beach. Then unlike every other meal in São Tomé, lunch then came out quickly in the middle of our conversation anyway and we were charged €50 for it. Sigh…not worth fighting.

At least the fish tasted great.

After the quick lunch we got back into our boat, dropped off a visiting local family on one part of São Tomé by Porto Alegre, disembarked ourselves back where our car was parked, and was immediately requested by another villager in Porto Alegre to see some turtles.

Sensing an unsolicited fee incoming, I started to walk away and yet then was asked for money anyway… yes, just to look at small turtles already swimming around in the bay. With the double header of being solicited for money over a lunch and a handful of sea turtles we didn’t initially ask for, we quickly jumped into our car to get in Lauren’s top sight she wanted to see: Praia Piscina.

After 20 minutes of a bumpy ride past Porto Alegre southwest, we reached a secluded beach known for swimming:

Here lava has formed natural infinity pools lined with white sand. I could see why this could be a honeymoon treat.

After 10 minutes here of photos, and Lauren satisfied with the beauty of this island, Waldimiro rushed back up to the capital city to get Lauren on her flight home. Driving out beginning at 4:30pm we somehow defied Google Maps by 2 hours and arrived back at our place by 6:30pm.

Once at the residences, Lauren had enough time to pack and head to the airport with plenty of time to check in. We said our goodbyes and toasted her farewell with ice cream across the street at an empty bar called “Anger.” I wish I could come up with a different name for the bar, but facts are facts.

It’s now 8:30pm and we shall sleep early tonight: Tomorrow morning we head out at 5am for our 7am onward flight to country #6 of Gabon!

- At time of posting in São Tomé, it was 26 °C - Humidity: 89% | Wind Speed: 10km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Nature’s Last Stand: It’s Only A Matter of Príncipe!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 08 Jan 2024 22:59:40 +0000

After a 10 day long roadtrip across the coast along the Gulf of Guinea and a day to recover in Accra, we flew out on an afternoon 4:10pm TP1527 TAP Portugal flight from Accra to TMS airport in São Tomé, one of the least visited countries in the world.

But not before checking out all 3 premium lounges at Accra airport… There’s the ground level and smaller Sanbra Priority Lounge in front of gate C3:

The more crowded Adinkra Lounge with a buffet serving hot food is above gate C4:

And the larger, more personable, emptier, and less crowded (but also fewer hot foot options, which are made to order) one at Awkwaaba Lounge:

Our flight was slightly delayed to 4:55pm but boarding was quick. We landed at 6:30pm local time.

No visas for most countries to visit so we passed straight through!

One of the smallest and hilariously fastest conveyor belts I ever seen (after the even smaller one we found in Tuvalu):

Once we got our luggage we headed out into arrivals.

Waldimiro from Micaval Residences greeted us at arrivals and drove us straight to the residence for check-in. But because many of my travelers desired their own single supplements, I had booked nearby HN City Center Hotel as overflow, only to find that it was formally closed despite its open listing on booking platforms.

Waldimiro and I yelled from the ground floor and called their number only to be informed they had no idea why I was there.

In spite of Waldimiro not speaking a lick of English this whole time, a combination of my Spanish and using Google Translate on his phone was still able to get me checked into a backup overflow hotel next door at Porcelana, get us SIM cards for Lauren, Letti, and Sandy, our euros exchanged for dobras, and arranging guides for both Lauren and Sandy separately in different parts of São Tomé and a guide in Príncipe for me and Letti tomorrow.

Whew! What an adventure in of itself. The funny side note about Porcelana was that I had initially booked it and then cancelled a few weeks ago when they seemed a little fishy sending me a message to “verify my credit card” with a 500 euro deposit on an independent payment portal outside of the booking platforms; luckily that didn’t happen here in person.

All lost in translation drama settled, we then enjoyed a late dinner and shisha at Zima that took forever to prepare but was worth the wait (they take international credit cards too!).

The next morning after arriving into São Tomé Letti and I made an attempt at a morning 9:00am STP Airways flight to Príncipe, the rarely ever visited (São Tomé is already one of the least visited countries in the world in of itself) “Galapagos of Africa,” due to the level of floral and fauna found nowhere else in the world.

Because we had committed to this trip as early as last August we were able to snag 2 seats on an otherwise fully booked flight on STP Airways.

I admit my initial anxiety in coming:

STP Airways is on the list of carriers banned from operating in the EU for not meeting its safety standards, but seems to be currently the only option for visiting Príncipe at this time.
STP Airways also has a weird booking system where you can book online on their website without a payment needed, but they do not accept USD, thus causing the tickets to look like they have been cancelled. So I e-mailed them directly where I was then sent instructions to find a portal link back in the website to pay by credit card in a foreign currency, and then once I paid it, I had to let them know so they could “uncancel” our tickets.
STP Airways do not fly to Príncipe on Tuesdays. Today was a Monday (see next point why that’s important).
STP Airways has a track record of frequent cancellations due to their tiny sized airplanes and bipolar weather. If the weather caused our same day return flight from Príncipe to be cancelled, this would risk us from being able to make it to our onward flights to Gabon (which was on Wednesday morning), Cameroon, or Equatorial Guinea: Our trip would be royally screwed.

But I guess that didn’t happen. Leaving at 7:30am for the airport from the city center, we arrived 15 minutes later for check in.

This was my flight ticket on STP Airways:

After a quick security screening where they almost confiscated my travel spork (which I haven’t used since the Transsiberian Railway monsoon in 2016) we waited in the departures lounge enjoying the free Wi-Fi.

And right on time at 8:55am we boarded our tiny plane for Príncipe.

With the friendly co-pilot and first office Livio reassuring me that the return flight looked all clear due to great weather, I boarded and didn’t look back.

They were already beginning to turn the propellers before the last of us got onboard, and we took off promptly at 9:00am. It’s a 35 minute flight and I recommend sitting on the left side for these initial views of Príncipe:

We landed at 9:40am at PCP airport, one of the least visited in the world:

Felt so nice to be here, that we had to do it twice:

Their arrivals hall:

Outside one of Waldimiro’s friends Joaquim Andrade picked us up in his 4×4 after a last minute arrangement made last night. And like Waldimiro, Joaquim does not speak of lick of English OR Spanish. It was all body language and some carried over Spanish words into Portuguese from here on out.

But it didn’t matter because Príncipe is GORGEOUS. Both greener and wilder than its bigger brother island, Príncipe does it for me; rarely has a place left such an immediate impression and shooting its way up to many of my top ten lists.

Nature is so lush here that my eyes started to hurt from seeing so much green.

Our first stop was Miradouro oquepipi:

The breathtaking views here are replicated all over in the island even in its street art:

We then drove down to one of its many beaches/praias which are so so so secluded and yet so welcoming at the same time.

We felt like we had every one of these beaches to ourselves:

After a few beaches we stopped at Roça Porto-Real, the largest of Príncipe’s abandoned plantations:

We found plenty of other similarly abandoned buildings around Príncipe scattered like jewels from the past, including this former hospital (at least according to Joaquim who simply said “hospital.”

On our way back to the main settlement of Santo Antonio, we passed by Príncipe’s main market:

Once at Santo Antonio, we got out for a leisurely walk. The settlement was founded in 1502 as a center of sugarcane cultivation and trade.

I don’t say this often, but it literally feels perfect here, and felt perfect being here.

The main cathedral and church (or se catedral) was under renovations at time of posting:

After half an hour of strolling, Joaquim left us for about an hour at Restaurante e Bar Romar for lunch

Even its back alleys for bathrooms is photogenic here:

Filled up with a fried fish fillet lunch, we got back into our car with Joaquim and drove towards Belo Monte Hotel and Museum. Along the way we picked up a few school children to help them on their long hike back home from school:

Dropping the kids off 10 minutes later up and down dirt roads (Letti and I have no idea how these kids can hike miles and miles up and down hills like that everyday…gives me plenty of excuses to play hooky if it were me), we then parked and walked into Belo Monte.

There’s a viewpoint inside the hotel that overlooks a cliff that’s truly unbelievable:

This view overlooks Villa Príncipe and Praia das Bananas. Letti and I spent a little more time here after an unexpected gasp when we saw how beautiful it was.

Belo Monte itself wasn’t too shabby. For anywhere from 400 to 1500 euros per night, you can add this to your list of honeymoon destinations:

Arguably the most atmospheric abandoned plantation would be Roça Paciencia, which is right outside of Belo Monte:

After buying local coffee beans here I briefly ran inside one of the houses for some urban exploration:

After a full and satisfying 5 hours driving around this paradise of an island, Joaquim dropped us off back at the airport at 2:40pm, 20 minutes before check-in for our return 4:20pm flight back to São Tomé.

Feeling bad for us having arrived a little too early, the airport staff unlocked the doors and let us sit inside for awhile before check in (although there’s no air conditioning inside except for the departures room after security):

At 3pm we checked in and got our handwritten paper tickets:

Although Letti’s bag was hand searched (there’s no x-ray machines here), they didn’t even bother with my backpack; for me they simply waved a metal detector wand over me and let me through.

Letti and I enjoyed the air-conditioner here for about half an hour before we began boarding at 4:10pm:

I said hi again (and thanked him for coming back for me, haha) to the first officer and co-pilot Livio before boarding:

By 5pm we were back in São Tomé, where Livio told me he’d reach out to me whenever he’s in New York with his new wife. I gave him my card, shook his hand, and headed back out into arrivals where Waldimiro picked us up to take us back home.

This one’s for the books: one of my favorite days already. Celebratory dinner at Carambola (they take Visa credit cards!):

- At time of posting in Príncipe, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 76% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: hot but clear and pleasant

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That’s Pretty Accra-te!

Calvin Sun — Sat, 06 Jan 2024 03:44:32 +0000

Returning from Cape Coast last night, we recharged at our fancy apartments at Embassy Gardens, complete with a swimming pool, centrally locatded café restaurant, and gym.

It was at this point (and luckily at this point) where we found out the air conditioning in our car had suddenly died and had to rely on open windows. I mention luckily because we only had one day left on this road trip and it was going to be a short city tour of Accra anyway. Whew!

The next morning at 10:30am we began at the nearby W.E.B. DuBois Center, where the burial grounds of famed pan-African historian and civil rights activist W.E.B. DuBois and his second wife Shirley are located, we well as his home where he spent his final years. There is also a simple Bed and Breakfast on site.

This was his bedroom:

Next we drove to Black Star Square, aka Ghana’s Independence Square that sits next to its national stadium and Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park. Completed in 1961 ahead of Queen Elizabeth II’s first state visit to Ghana, this is the site for all of Ghana’s civic and military parades and similarly other national gatherings.

You can climb up to the top of the structure for 5 cedis per person:

The views from the top of the arch:

You can see Osu Castle by the coast if you look to the east:

Feel free to grab a flag up here and show your pride:

From the square we drove west to Jamestown and Usshertown, the oldest districts of Accra, Ghana, that populated and grew out of the two 17th century British owned James Fort and Dutch owned Ussher Fort. For 50 cedis a person you can go on a guided walking tour by one of its residents beginning at the lighthouse:

The two towns grew rapidly at the end of the 19th century into the 20th century.

The meat market here was one of the most intense I’ve ever seen on my travels (like the intensity I felt at Mogadishu’s fish market but with land animals)

The veggies fared better.

We were shown a place where enslaved people were hidden in an underground dungeon and tunnel that led to the James Fort’s own “Door of No Return.” It has now become a reservoir for fresh water after a rain storm. Jamestown’s past juxtaposed with the current hopeful image of teenagers playing in a basketball tournament, and wearing their own bright mint-colored personalized jerseys no less, suggest progress.

We then finished our tour after an entire loop around Jamestown that took about 30-45 minutes under the intense heat.

Finishing up we circled back to the recently renovated Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park & Mausoleum, built in 1992 on the site of former British colonial polo grounds and the spot where Nkrumah made the declaration of Ghana’s independence. It is dedicated to Ghanaian President Kwame Nkrumah.

We snuck in for a quick look without having to pay the admission fee (nobody asked us) and rested up with the fantastic air conditioning here.

Then we returned to our favorite Vine Restaurant for brunch and back to Embassy Gardens for an afternoon break before our final dinner together with Vincent at +233 Jazz Bar & Grill for live music.

The dude in the background cover photo of the festival performed live and found out he knew Lauren’s dad from Seattle!

Goodbye Vincent! We’re going to really really miss you.

- At time of posting in Accra, it was 32 °C - Humidity: 74% | Wind Speed: 13km/hr | Cloud Cover: overcast and dreary, still hot

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Let’s Kakum Up That Ladder

Calvin Sun — Fri, 05 Jan 2024 21:16:42 +0000

From Cape Coast and on our way back to Accra, we took a detour north to Kakum National Park.

This tropical forest park was established in 1931 as a reserve and designated a national park in 1992. It is currently on a waitlist to become designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

What makes this park unique was that it was established at the initiative of locals and not by Ghana’s State Department of Wildlife.

It is also one of only 3 locations in Africa that features a canopy walkway. This makes it a good bookend to the canopy walkway we took at the beginning of our roadtrip with Confidence back in Lagos.

The canopy walkway costs 100 Ghanian cedis to climb and is an impressive 350 meters/1,150 ft long that connects 7 tree tops.

Wear appropriate footwear here (we even saw someone slightly struggle on heels at the one in Lagos!) because along the canopy walkway, one of Sandy’s flip-flop straps broke. She then asked to steal one of my socks so she could walk the rest of the way without getting a splinter.

I gotta say, it feels very uneven when one of your feet has a sock and the other doesn’t.

After an hour at the park and sadly seeing no other wildlife (even its famed crocodiles), we then drove south 40 miles north of Cape Coast to the Assin Manso Ancestral River Site aka “The Last Bath” where one of the largest slave markets took place:

Here captured Africans were corralled and allowed to recuperate after their long journeys by foot from their villages.

This was also where enslaved people would be branded and take their last bath in the waters of their native land.

When it was time to leave for Cape Coast, they were sorted for the strong to continue onwards to the castles on Cape Coast, while the unimaginable happened here: the weaker ones would be left behind, chained to trees, and left to die.

After taking it all this madness in, we then cut across a shortcut dirt path for an hour to have a late lunch at La Femme before continuing onwards to return to Accra.

- At time of posting in Kakum National Park, it was 32 °C - Humidity: 73% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: overcast, rainy, humid, hot

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Cape Coast “of Good Hope”

Calvin Sun — Thu, 04 Jan 2024 22:15:11 +0000

From Lomé we departed for our 4-5 drive to Accra. The Aflao border right outside of Lomé is literally a 5-8 minute drive.

And thanks to Albert, our local Togo guide, he was able to arrange his friend and money exchanger to exchange for me not only Ghanian Cedis for a good rate, but most importantly as much Central African CFAs as he could (luckily it was only 15,000 CFAs short) at the EXACT 1:1 exchange ratio for my Western African CFAs without taking a cut. MVP Albert!

Albert then guided and streamlined our exit out of Togo and into Ghana first at the office to stamp out:

And then he took us into a nearby office on the Ghana side to meet with some military officers. We presented our pre-arranged visas that we had obtained beforehand at our local consulate (although straightforward, you gotta present a lot of documents including letters of invitations, an ID card of the party inviting you, your itinerary, flights, and hotel bookings), where they then asked us a few questions, took our photos and biometrics, and then stamped us.

We then said our farewells to Albert after 3 days with him and headed onto Accra.

Just as when we were leaving Nigeria, there’s a checkpoint literally every 5-10 minutes for about 1-2 hours during the 4 hour drive into Accra.

Starting our border crossing at 1pm, we finally reached Accra by 6pm.

Once we reached Accra, we settled into our lodgings with dinner at nearby Vine.

Saving a more in depth exploration of Accra for when we’d return, we headed out at 9:30am the next morning for a slapstick and roundabout effort to find good coffee in Accra before moving on to seaside town of Cape Coast. It’s about a 2-3 hour drive from Accra, 4 if including traffic.

Once we arrived, we stopped first for a mandatory visit to the Cape Coast Castle, one of several UNESCO World Heritage forts known for their unfortunate roles in the slave trade.

Once having belonged to the Swedes (at first for timber trade), then the Danes, then the Dutch, it was eventually captured by the British to become its new headquarters in the Atlantic slave trade.

Barack and Michelle Obama visited here in 2009:

It costs 80 Ghanian cedis per adult foreigner to enter which includes a guided tour of the castle that takes an hour. Tours begin in the dungeon quarters where they kept enslaved men.

Over 200 people could be kept in each chamber where they relieved themselves in this very spot; so much so that their excrement and urine has become the new layer on top of the original construction’s brick floor.

There’s windows where you can take a look down at the underground tunnels where enslaved people were shuttled from the dungeons to the ships for the New World.

They guide you very thoroughly through the atrocities that occurred here under the British until the abolition of the slave trade, including where enslaved people were kept, that they stayed in the dungeons anywhere from 2 weeks to 3 months, the various forms of executions and punishment, the shameful and contrasting luxuries that their European masters had enjoyed in their living quarters above, and their own “doors of no return.”

In defiance of the concept of “no return,” however, and signs we are living in better times: 2 bodies of former enslaved people from the United States and Jamaica respectively, were repatriated and returned through this very door at a recent ceremony to see the word AKWAABA to welcome them home.

The views from Cape Coast are extraordinary, with sights of fishing boats dotting the harbor.

They all boast different flags due to the simple fact that the Ghanian flag is the most expensive.

Although Cape Coast castle gets all the attention, we drove 20 minutes around the coast west to Elmina Castle, the first, oldest, and largest trading post built along the Gulf of Guinea.

It was also a major filming location for Werner Herzog’s 1987 drama film Cobra Verde:

Like at the Cape Coast castle, it costs 80 Ghanian cedis per adult tourist to enter and they encourage you to join a group tour which lasts about 30-45 minutes. The tour itself is also very similar to the tour at the Cape Coast Castle down to the same phrases used, which speaks to the horrific automation in which European slave masters treated their fellow humans in the slave trade.

You will hear all the facts that happened here like a broken record about where enslaved persons were kept, the similar stories of abuse and hardship, as well as their own “doors of no return.” And keep hearing it we will as to never repeat this shitstain on human history again.

From the top of Elmina Castle you can see Ahomka Fie, a military post built to protect Elmina Castle and its interests before it was converted what now is an events venue.

After the tour we had dinner at a restaurant built by the castle.

And enjoyed the sunset as we drove back to check into our lodgings at Brynx Haven.

The next morning we drove up to Kakum National Park.

- At time of posting in Cape Coast, it was 34 °C - Humidity: 74% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and hot

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I’ll Have That “Lomé”in To-go Please!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 03 Jan 2024 18:58:58 +0000

After 2 days and celebrating the New Year’s in Ouidah, we left for Lomé early in the morning for the border between Togo and Benin. It’s about an hour’s drive from Ouidah.

The first part is stamping out of Benin in this foreroom:

And just like crossing from Nigeria to Benin, to stamp into the next country is just down a few doors within the same building.

Here we pulled up our e-visas that we got beforehand online.

Even though Togo’s website only allows you to select the airport as a point of entry, e-visas can work here at the overland border crossing from Benin or Ghana but you’ll have to refill out the forms (although there’s no need to pay the $40 USD again). I feel after our experience, it actually might be faster and more straightforward to do the visas on arrival route instead of getting an e-visa because of that.

Then with your stamp you can then head past Togo immigrations.

After a few searches and questions whether we were carrying any drugs outside the border, and drive on west towards capital of Lomé, we stopped at Agbodrafo, also known as “Safe Harbour” or to Europeans as Porto Seguro.

Once a port along the slave trade, it has been converted into a popular seaside resort. But if you have time, you can take a 10 minute boat ride across the lake to Togoville:

The Cathedral there was built-in 1910 and includes a shrine to the Virgin Mary that marked where she is said to have appeared on a November 7 in the early 1970s.

Next are the first two wells dug for groundwater that’s still being used today:

A statue commemorating the friendship between the German and Togo people marks the edge of the town’s main road:

Togoville and the surrounding area is a also a site of extensive voodoo practice; therefore voodoo shrines are scattered around in various parts of the city by the former royal palace.

There’s a male voodoo for “masculine” wishes and offerings:

And a female voodoo for women-specific wishes (animal blood offerings and sacrifices are poured on a volcanic rock nearby and not on this voodoo itself):

At this particular voodoo statue in the market area, if you make a wish and then make an sacrifice offering of an animal’s blood (thus what this one is covered with), you’ll get your wish to come true.

Nearby is a sacred voodoo forest where important ceremonies are held:

We then returned to the coast and paid a 20 minute visit to the House of Slaves where enslaved persons were forced to kneel and live underground from weeks to months to acclimate themselves for eventual life onboard the slave ships:

While the enslaved crawled in holes to live under the house, the slave masters would live normally in the house upstairs.

Enslaved people would be given food through a trapdown in the living room floor.

We went down to see for ourselves; up to 400-500 people were forced to live here before they would be led onto the slave ships.

The master’s bedroom feels rightfully eerie and haunted.

We then continued onwards, having a poolside dinner at a hotel residence by Lomé’s fishing harbor:

With another 30 minute’s drive we reached and settled into our lodgings at the very charming Résidence Hôtelière Océane in the city center of Lomé. It boasts a unique and nicely designed interior, even though we had to switch one of the rooms due to a flood caused by a malfunctioning air-conditioning unit.

Then with a quick check in with the group’s emotional state halfway through our road trip, we took a short walk around the area.

Although it’s a slightly dodgy neighborhood at night (both our guides and hotel owner told us not to walk in a certain direction after leaving the hotel), it may have been worth it for this photo:

We then began our city tour of Lomé the next morning after breakfast at 8:30am. Our hotel is conveniently located in Lomé’s Grand Market:

We first stopped at Monument de L’independence/Independence Monument, which commemorates Togo’s independence from France on April 27 1960, unique for a human silhouette carved within the monument.

The National Museum is within the grounds of the Independence Monument behind the conference center.

We then drove by the Artisans Village and Sacred Heart Cathedral, built in 1902 and where Pope John Paul II celebrated mass in 1985:

For a great view of the Gulf of Guinea, the Palais de Lomé or Governor’s House was built during German colonization in 1905 and includes a botanic garden. Sadly it was closed and we did not want to wait for a sketchy phone call to have them let us in.

Lomé is also arguably most known for being home to the Akodessewa Fetish Market (also known as the heart of traditional medicine):

This is the world’s largest fetish market where dead animals & skulls abound for the purpose of traditional medicine and healing practices.

A proper tour here explaining everything and to receive a blessing from a local priest costs 10,000 Western CFAs per person.

And after an hour at the market, we bid farewell to Priyanka to leave her behind in Togo as we crossed the nearby border into Accra.

- At time of posting in Lome, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 81% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: partly cloudy but definitely hot muggy

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“Ouidah”-t a Doubt!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 01 Jan 2024 21:01:25 +0000

After an intimate celebration last night at our villa by the beach, we began our new year with a relaxed city tour of Ouidah.

Driving first for breakfast where we finally had our first coffee of the trip (it’s not a thing in Nigeria) . . .

. . . we first stopped at the Basilique de l’Immaculée Conception, dedicated to the Immaculate Conception and under the circumscription of the Archdiocese of Cotonou:

Reaching Atlas Oscura fame, we also drove to visit the Temple of the Sacred Pythons, where the snakes here are a holy totem for followers of the religion of .

We were guided by the owner’s son, with his cheeks ritually scarred since birth that indicated his Vodun status and his ability to care for the pythons.

According to the religions and handlers here, none of the pythons are capable of biting or strangling anyone.

Then joined by Confidence and his staff, we drove next to the Sacred Forest of Kpassè, a semi-wild woodland area dedicated to King Kpassè, the 16th century ruler of the African kingdom of Whydah (now spelled Ouidah), as well as a major pilgrimage site for Vodun adherents

The forest has relics showing varying legends and gods of protection and fertility:

Legend has it that the king fled for his life after hundreds of warriors from nearby competing villages arrived to capture and kill him. It was here in this forest where the king turned himself into an Iroko tree (Milicia excelsa). Worshippers say that if you make an offering, touch the tree with your left hand and make a wish, it’ll come true.

Ouidah is also sadly famous for having its own past enshrined in the history of the slave trade where enslaved persons would leave their home continent for the very last time here.

This was the former major slave site post where deals were made and enslaved people either died or waited up to 2 years for ships to take them away:

At 6 meters tall ad constructed on the site of a mass grave of enslaved people who died before leaving Africa, the Memorial of Remembrance recalls imagery of the controversial history of slavery in Benin.

Enslaved men would turn around him 9 times and the women 7 times around The Tree of Forgetfulness (which is no longer standing but a memorial has been erected in its place) to reinforce forgetting their ancestral homes.

…before they finally crossed through where the Door and “Gate of No Return” now stands (currently under renovations until next month):

It was also today where as Priyanka and I kicked back with a lazy lunch, Sandy, Lauren and Letti got their hair braided at a local salon. When they finished a few hours later, we returned for dinner at the same spot where we had our breakfast earlier this morning.

As we waited for the bill, an impromptu dance party ensued:

Now we give some farewell drinks to Confidence and Alex (who couriered all my missing backup passports/headphones/business card holder/wallets back from Lagos!) at our villa before turning in early for our onward journey to Lomé, Togo tomorrow!

- At time of posting in Ouidah, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 84% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Do You Wanna Know “Abomey” or The Woman King?

Calvin Sun — Sun, 31 Dec 2023 18:57:40 +0000

This morning we got up at 8am for breakfast and were picked up by our guides Vincent (of Nigeria to Ghana) and Jean (of Benin and Togo) from our side to side lodgings in Cotonou.

We made our introductions to the two new additions to our group: Lauren who flew in the night before at 9pm from CDG and Priyanka who flew in earlier this morning at 2am from ABJ. And what better backdrop as an icebreaker than the massive Amazonian Warrior statue we were finally able to gain access to after a failed attempt the day before (due to an Afrobeats concert that blocked off the streets)?

After quick pitstops at the bizarre Place de Bulgarie and Red Star Square, our guides picked up some breakfast and drove us 3 hours north to the Royal Palace Museum at Abomey, formerly of the Dahomey (of “The Woman King” fame) Kingdom.

A UNESCO World Heritage Site, they palaces are group of earthen structures topped by straw roofs built by the Fon people of the Dahomey Kingdom between the 17th and 19th centuries.

Controversially, the Dahomey were one of the main beneficiaries of the Atlantic Slave Trade; the construction of these palaces were mainly funded by capturing slaves from other neighboring ethnic African tribes to sell to the Europeans.

After the abolition of the slave trade and the Dahomey folded into what is now known as the country of Benin, these palaces were preserved a a museum and are regarded as one of the most historically significant and renowned sites in West Africa:

Each king here had a palace built for himself, the fanciest being the one belonging to King Gbehanzin (pronounced like Queen Beyoncé).

Gbehanzin has been regarded in local folklore as a hero for being the African tribe that chose to wage war against the enslaving Europeans instead of becoming complicit in aiding the slave trade.

We had a museum appointed guide the whole time, showing us around for an hour with a high quality and enthusiastic tour. However, it was noticeable how he largely skipped over the torture and war tactics of the Dahomey Kingdom and surprisingly not mentioning the recent Hollywood film “The Woman King” at all; it is said that Benin was not really happy with the film’s historical alterations in sanitizing the image of Dahomey Kingdom.

Inside we saw various relics of deities such as the God of both protection and fertility:

After signing the guestbook, admiring some local cows that reminded me of the Ankole-Watusi back in South Sudan 8 months ago, and a great fried fish and sesame beefsteak vegetable lunch in the area . . .

. . . we drove back the 3 hours towards Cotonou for Ganvie.

- At time of posting in Abomey, it was 37 °C - Humidity: 35% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear and blazing hot

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That’s “Cotonou” But “Ganvie” Celebrate 2024 Already?

Calvin Sun — Sun, 31 Dec 2023 16:10:13 +0000

From Badagry we crossed into the next country of Benin from Nigeria at the Seme border.

After nearly 20+ checkpoints (which is not an exaggeration) on the Nigerian side while approaching the border, half of which stopped us and failed at any way to leverage something for some money (have your passports and documents ready at the helm and they’ll give you less of a hard time), we arrived earlier than expected.

There Confidence, our tour organizer from Nigeria, met us there and seamlessly guided us through the process.

Stamping out of Nigeria was a long process, with a friendly officer (and what seemed like to be his toddler son next to him) taking his time to ensure we had all our information correct on our departure cards.

After correcting and recorrecting the departure forms, they quickly checked our yellow fever cards and asked us what we did as professions, where we stayed, how we liked Nigeria, and when we were coming back.

After seeming satisfied with our answers, the first officer had us move to the adjacent window to be stamped out. Then a plainclothes agent arrived and asked him to walk around the building to be stamped inside an administrative office, which was very random.

I’d imagine if Confidence weren’t there, there would have been a small irritating attempt at a shakedown. After a few more questions inside the office, we were finally stamped out, returned back to the window, had photos and our fingerprints electronically taken, and then directed around the corner to another window where a Benin immigrations officer was waiting to stamp us in.

Apparently the two countries share the same office and building instead of making us do a walk across a no man’s land between countries.

Unlike the ordeal to obtain a visa into Nigeria, Benin’s robust and easy e-visa process that took only hours (if not at most a day or two) to approve online allowed us to quickly passed through with our barcodes printed from our e-visa approvals.

However, two snags: After stamping us in, the Benin immigrations officer at the desk wanted to keep our hard copies of our e-visas, but Confidence and our guide Vincent insisted that we hold onto them just to be safe when we would exit in a few days for Togo. Luckily Confidence found a bystander at the border to quickly photocopy our visas, and thusly the Benin immigrations officer seemed satisfied and returned our original e-visas back to us. Bring 2 copies next time!

The other snag was that I noticed that the passport number I had registered on my Benin e-visa was different from the passport I had on me: my backup and older passport that I had originally registered the e-visa on was not only expiring in 2 months, thus requiring me to get this new fourth one I currently had on me, but it also was temporarily left behind back in Lagos!

Holding my breath and watching her give back my passport with the Benin stamp in it was just too much good dumb luck I could handle for one day regarding passports. I shall not take another chance like this again. This is how we learn.

We then returned to our cars and headed towards Benin and picking up our French speaking local from Porto-Novo, Jean, to join us.

Once reaching Cotonou, we took advantage of some extra time for a quick city tour first by driving by the largest mosque in all of Benin, the Grande Mosquée de Zongo (with “Zongo” meaning foreigner):

We then stopped at the Cotonou Cathedral, distinct for its burgundy and white striped tile architecture.

The cathedral is the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Cotonou.

We even crashed a wedding that was taking place here!

Any fans of North Korean-style monuments such as the one in Dakar may whet their appetite for it here at the North Korean built Place des Martyrs:

Saving the rest for Lauren and Priyanka when they’d arrive (and because there was a huge concert blocking off traffic around the new Amazonian statue), we checked in at both L’Epicurien and L’Address side by side as something had happened last minute to one of the rooms at L’Epicurean causing us to split up.

After an hour and half to freshen up, Letti, Sandy and I enjoyed our last dinner (at least for the next 12 days) together at L’Address as we waited for the other 2 folks, Priyanka and Lauren, in our group to arrive late into Cotonou. Karthik even came by one more time to say goodbye!

By the time Karthik left Lauren had just arrived to our lodgings at L’Epicurean.

While the rest slept in and before I had retired to bed myself, I asked my hotel’s staff to take me on a joyride around Cotonou and find an ATM; I had to withdraw $1000 in West African CFAs to pay for dinner and our lodgings as we haven’t found anything that could accept our credit cards.

The next morning and after Priyanka’s 2am arrival, we set out for Abomey by 9am, but not without first taking our full group photo at the new Amazonian Statue that pays homage to the the warriors based in The Woman King.

It was built just 3 years ago and wasn’t in any guidebook I found:

Then while leaving Cotonou north for Abomey, we quickly stopped for Atlas Obscura-esque photos of Benin’s prior attempts to become a communist state during the Cold War: Head to the bizarre traffic circle at the Place de Bulgarie where you can find a very random larger-than-life statue of Bulgaria’s first Communist leader, Georgi Dimitrov:

Further evidence of Benin’s Cold War past can be discovered at another roundabout north at red star-shaped (which is better seen from the air if you’re flying in or out) Etoile Rouge:

Returning 6 hours later after an afternoon in Abomey, we took an evening boat ride at Nokoue Lake . . .

. . . across to Ganvie, the biggest stilt village in Africa.

Unlike the floating Makoko village that we saw only 3 days ago back in Lagos, Ganvie is supported by the Benin local government. Therefore it appears much more calm and orderly; civic planning was definitely implemented here.

We had heard rumors that the locals here are so tired of tourists visiting their village they’ll intentionally try to ruin your photos with photobombs and troll-like behavior. I thought it just reminded me of how I would behave towards any gatecrashers at a party.

After an hour’s worth of touring around Ganvie and buying some souvenirs at one of the floating houses, we returned to the shore where the local village treated us to a Zangbeto ceremonial dance and voodoo celebration procession. Consisting of an elaborate ritual dance alongside chanting and drumming to honor the gods and spirits, the religion is practiced by 12% of the population in West Africa.

Although Ouidah is the spiritual capital of the voodoo religion in Benin, they can take place here too in Ganvie. Here you can witness followers and adepts of the various voodoo gods, from the elaborately costumed Zangbetos, to the followers of Kokou.

Zangbeto is therefore probably the most well known example of West African voodoo culture. The Ogu people of Benin, Togo and Nigeria regard the Zangbeto as their own “Batman,” or the guardians of the night of safety and security where they act as an unofficial police force patrolling the streets, scaring enemies away, or taking them in for punishment.

The fascinating part and a topic of contention is whether the hollow straw “puppets” are truly what they are; as the festival begins, it may be common to then be asked for tip money so they can show you there is really nobody inside these Zangbeto; sometimes they’ll turn over the mass coverings (made of tiny strands of hay, raffia or other threadlike materials dyed in various patterns and colors) just to present how there’s nobody inside, or a bunch of moving leaves, a small statue, or bottles of ceremonial alcohol. One was even flattened and run over by happy, dancing children to show how there’s no”body” inside the Zangbeto. Then they’ll put them back up into place where the Zangbeto are then able to fall into a trance which, according to tradition, enables their bodies to be “possessed” by spirits that infuse the Zangbeto with dance and magic.

Then after sprinkled with holy water and ritual chanting, as well as some processional drumming and being offered both money (that they wanted us to share with them) and alcoholic spirits (that was in turn shared with us), they are supposedly then will become possessed by spirits. Soon these hollow and unmanned straw puppets are spinning and dancing.

After a 30 minute presentation, we then drove another hour and half down to Ouidah, where we would settle in for the next 2 nights and celebrate New Year’s Eve at our beachfront villa of San Miguel!

Although it took awhile to find this huge villa at the end of the road, we were able to not only coordinate a check-in without the host there, but also with the power of Google and 3G data (THANKFULLY) find the only restaurant on the beach that could deliver food to us before we popped these champagne bottles.

Happy New Year!

- At time of posting in Cotonou, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 81% | Wind Speed: 13km/hr | Cloud Cover: n/a

The post That’s “Cotonou” But “Ganvie” Celebrate 2024 Already? appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

More Than Blood, “Badagry,” or Your College Degree…

Calvin Sun — Sat, 30 Dec 2023 17:41:56 +0000

With 2 full days in Lagos behind us, the 3 of us began our West Africa roadtrip westwards with a 2 hour and 45 minute’s drive from Lagos to Badagry.

About half an hour into the drive, Sapphire Residences texted me on What’s App saying they just found I had left behind a bunch of important stuff: 3 backup passports, 2 backup wallets containing all my hotel and airline credit cards, headphones, and business card holder in a bedroom drawer! The worst part is that I distinctly recalled looking at and not wanting to open that drawer this morning because I had actually convinced myself that I had not stored anything in there.

Am I getting old? Lesson learned.

Luckily I already had two backup plans set up in case anything like this happened: My friend and monsooner, Karthik, has his family in Lagos and could always bring my stuff home. And Confidence Aguiyi, the Nigeria-based organizer of our roadtrip, already had another guide named Alex leading a tour in Lagos and would be joining us in Benin the next day. I went with the latter as to not bother Karthik any more than I already have, and within a few hours Alex was at Sapphire picking up my stuff and did a FaceTime with the Sapphire Residences staff to prove he was retrieving the items for me. Crisis averted!

Anyway, back to our road trip. It’s all part of a good story and the ability and relief of finding a legit resolution makes up for the booboo.

Founded around 1425, Badagry was borne from a handful of settlements where people lived along the Coast of Gberefu.

Badagry is also sadly known for its Ancient Slave Port, also known as the “Point of No Return.”

The site is symbolized by the Seriki Faremi Williams Abbas Family museum located at the site, which both pays homage and makes apologies for its complicity in the slave trade:

Up to 40 enslaved peoples were crowded into these rooms (now converted to museum exhibits) without any clean water and barely any ventilation from outside air:

Badagry was therefore one fixture of the slave routes that benefited from the ongoing trade conflict between Portnovo and Dahomey at the end of the eighteenth century, the latter of which tribe was profiled in the recent movie starring Viola Davis, “The Woman King.”

Enslaved persons taken during inter-village conflicts in West Africa were therefore auctioned off the coasts of Badagry:

We then walked a hot 5 minutes down the road to also visit the First Church and Storey Building.

Founded in 1845, named for being where the first group of missionaries in Nigeria had settled:

The heat being too unbearable for another 20 minutes’ walk, we drove to the Slave Heritage Museum where we had a quick half an hour tour of the slave trade here from its inception to its abolition.

More sobering than the topic itself was to see the reactions of other tourists in our group of African origins, as if I was recalled back to the time I had visited Auschwitz and witnessing the reactions of the Jewish tourists there.

After an hour here, we drove for another 40 minutes towards to the Seme border between Nigerian and Benin.

- At time of posting in Badagry, it was 31 °C - Humidity: 77% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: partly cloudy, muggy, thick as butter

The post More Than Blood, “Badagry,” or Your College Degree… appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

“La-go”s to Nigeria!

Calvin Sun — Fri, 29 Dec 2023 20:29:45 +0000

We shall not be deterred by obscure visa rules! Despite numerous people having signed up and then become demoralized by the concerns over safety as a tourist in Nigeria, the 3 of us remaining — Letti, Sandy, and myself — decided to forge ahead to make it here anyway. If it weren’t so hard to fly here as well (I had to take 4 international flights and even a train with a ton of international drama that even involved INTERPOL!), maybe we could have gotten more people to join.

I began with the travel hack I had just used when flying 3 months ago to Syria

1) Transfer 29,500 miles from Chase Ultimate Rewards to my free FlyingBlue account

2) Gain a bonus 20% miles to make it 35,000 Flying Blue miles

3) Redeem the 35,000 miles for a Premium Economy Flight on Air France from JFK in NYC to CDG in Paris.

Once arriving at JFK Airport Terminal 1, I then took advantage of Priority Pass members just having gained access to the new VIP One lounge at JFK Terminal 1, saving me the $40 admission to skip the long Christmas lines at security. This was made even better when the staff at VIP ONE remembered me again from the COVID-19 days.

As for premium economy on AirFrance: it wasn’t bad! It’s unique for having a shell format where to “lean back” the bottom of the seat slides forward; add that with a nice plushy pillow, complimentary socks, and the leg/foot rest that comes out (that you can hide under the blankets for take off and landing), I was able to sleep pretty soundly the moment I sat down. The food is the same as what they serve in regular economy.

After almost getting 7 hours of sleep on the flight, I arrived in Paris at 7:45am and marched through passports for another long march to get out of CDG airport. Then I took the RER B train for 5 stops to reach Gare du Nord before my a 10:24am Eurostar train to Brussels Midi Station.

Along the way I had accidentally missed the Gare du Nord stop on the first pass, so I got off and returned back, only to get stuck in trying to get out when my ticket to leave wouldn’t scan (Paris requires the ticket you used to get in in order to leave another station). So I rushed in with someone else leaving and somehow nobody stopped me when the alarm went off.

I even enjoyed an espresso outside Gare du Nord afterwards, waiting for the authorities to catch me.

Returning unfettered back to Gare du Nord and boarding my Eurostar train, I experienced an uncanny parallel universe moment back to the time I stowed away the very same train in the reverse direction 3 years ago.

Arriving around noon, I tucked away my bags at the lockers at Brussels Midi train station and took the metro to a random neighborhood for an Ethiopian pourover at a nice café, an hour’s workout at a Basic-fit gym for €10, and a haircut for €35. I then returned by metro to retrieve my bags from the train station locker and hailed an Uber up to Brussels Airport for a 7:55pm LX797 SWISS Air flight to Geneva. I even had enough time to enjoy the very same lounge in the very same seat I had sat in only a month earlier while on my way to the Canary Islands.

Landing in very chilly Geneva at 9:10pm, I finally caught up with a full night of sleep in a real bed at the nearby Nash Airport Hotel.

The next morning I took the 5 minute airport hotel shuttle back to the GVA airport for an 8:30am QR102 Qatar Airways flight to Doha. Before going through security, however, I had to stop at the check-in desk to show proof of my Nigerian visa where they then also forced me to check in one of my bags. Despite my pleading and worries over the reputation of how baggage is usually handled at Lagos Airport (even the Nigerian agent at the counter said he knew exactly what I was talking about), there was nothing they could do about policy. So I spent another 5 minutes reorganizing all my important stuff into my smaller backpack as if preparing to lose my larger bag for a few more days, asked them to tag on whatever sticker they could to indicate super priority and fragile status, and I then tossed in an AirTag inside for good measure. Then bidding my bigger backpack farewell, I now had less than 20 minutes to bolt through security and passports to reach the very faraway C terminal at GVA before the gate would close on me. And in all this time I’d later find out after all the running from security I had left behind my flight ticket!

Too late to turn back, I forged ahead at passports where my jaw understandably dropped (in the good kind of disbelief) when I was still stamped out of Schengen without being asked for my ticket. Then after a bit more of huffing and puffing while the overhead announcements were making “final boarding” calls, the gate agents scanned my passport and happily printed me a replacement flight ticket before letting me board. I walked towards my seat with less than a minute left before the gate finally would have closed on me. Whew!

Pushing my luck and finding out I had been reassigned to a middle seat, I asked a flight attendant if it was possible to be moved to a better seat, since it was not a full flight and I genuinely had thought I had paid a little extra a few days before for an aisle seat. They quickly obliged! I enjoyed the rest of the 6 hour flight thanking my lucky stars reading the International NY Times, drinking a ton of water, and eating all the food.

I landed at 4:20pm local time in Doha, Qatar to take advantage of another 9 hour layover. I first stopped in at the standing-room-only Al Maha Lounge while waiting to finally meet Letti Hale in person as she would land about an hour later for a similar layover in Doha. As we got to know each other outside the lounge, we took an elevator back upstairs from the transfer area, and left through security and immigrations.

Then it was Letti’s turn to share some travel grief: whereas I was able to stamp into Qatar easily on my brand new and fourth USA passport, Letti’s USA passport got her a time-out with their immigrations captain. While I waited for her in baggage claims, she was released 30 minutes later; during her time out she was informed that when she had applied for a same-day 2nd passport so she could still travel while her original passport was still at the Nigerian consulate for her visa, the latter had mistakenly been tagged as “LOST.” Therefore Letti was flagged by INTERPOL to be traveling on a stolen passport! After seeing that the passport was indeed not stolen at all, the Qatari passport police allowed Letti to pass but informed her to fix this issue as soon as possible at their local US Embassy.

At this point it was already 7pm and everything was closed. Letti, now not wanting to risk her flight out to Nigeria, almost decided to turn back into the airport. But with enough cajoling, we decided to make the most of her Qatari freedom.

At first we tried to hail an Uber to get out but then found out that Uber was no longer allowed to do pickups at the airport since the World Cup. This being a relative minor annoyance at this point considering everything else we just had been through, we hailed a regular Karwa taxi waiting outside arrivals and enjoyed a small dinner and shisha by the Corniche at Desert Rose of Souq Waqif.

After a pleasant dinner getting to know each other, Letti still wanted to return to the airport on the earlier side to minimize any more issues with her “illegal” passport status. To make it up for me if all went well, she’d use American Airlines Executive Platinum Status to access the Gold and Platinum Lounge back at the airport, while I’d tag along as her free guest. Who was I to stop her?

Suffice to say when stamping out of Qatar, Letti was once again pulled to the side where a far more competent senior officer spent time to reassure Letti she was going to be fine in West Africa; Qatar was being much more strict due to their closer ties with INTERPOL.

We then spent about 15 minutes looking for this more premium lounge, which was well worth the trek for their a la carte dining, great food, and first-come-first-served shower rooms (which we totally took advantage of before boarding our 9 hour red-eye flight to Lagos).

This was the seat I paid extra for to maximize the chances of a good night’s sleep in economy: No seat in front of 29K to stretch out my legs!

Finally after one more flight on QR1407 from DOH to LOS, we arrived in Nigeria at 8:50am in the morning.

This is when it USED to get tricky.

There had been numerous tales of how frustrating an arrival into Lagos airport can be to the point where people actually give up and pay the bribes that may be asked of them by airport security and staff there. For example, you may be taken into a room for “visa processing” where they’ll then ask you for “coffee money,” or they might search your bags for something to make up a rule about (unmarked vitamin pills, restricted food or electronics) and ask you for a “fee” to let you go without confiscating them, or find something wrong with your visa and/or passport and ask you to pay some kind of “tax” to let you go.

Whatever the case, I’ve learned the best route in other countries was to pretend to not speak English or to not understand what they’re asking you until they realize they’re losing both time and money with you and will let you go anyway. As long as you have a visa or proof of a visa on arrival, stand your ground and with enough patience, you’d be out the door into arrivals.

But we experienced NONE of that. Karthik, who travels to Lagos to visit his family every year, said it came with the recent renovations to Lagos airport; everyone inside the airport was so friendly and welcoming to us that the only related “hassle” was how the departure card that we had to fill out while waiting in line seemed to be proud how it was issued free of charge.

After filling out the sassy departures card and giving it to the immigrations officer who all wished us a Merry Christmas, we were out within minutes.

Then having remarkably retrieved my checked luggage at baggage claims (no thanks to the AirTag which claimed my bag was still back in Geneva), we almost made it free and clear without being asked to stop to give any money until an officer at customs insisted to us that we had things to declare (when we did not).

So when walking into the “items to declare” area, I then without stopping immediately weaved back out into “nothing to declare.” I did NOT want to ruin my bribe-free streak. Although another officer tried to stop and redirect me, I kept walking until another man in a suit told the officer to let us go since we only had backpacks on. Huzzah!

Then outside arrivals, we were immediately harangued to accept help in finding our friend or a taxi in exchange for some Christmas money. We therefore tired them out by walking nearly a whole kilometer around the parking lot to finally find Vincent, our guide and brother of the owner of UComeAfrik, Confidence Aguiyi.

Vincent then drove us 20 minutes to our accommodations at Sapphire Residences in Ikeja where we met up with Sandy who had arrived 4 hours prior and also said she had experienced nothing but hassle-free kindness at the airport.

This is what Letti and Sandy did for introductions:

After a quick settling in, freshening up and moving into our rooms, I began to confirm the hard way how Nigeria does not truly accept any American credit cards; nothing and no card was working and all the banks said everything on their end looked fine. Therefore in order to pay for the rooms, I asked Karthik to transfer money to the lodging’s local Nigerian bank account and I’d Venmo him back. Thank goodness for having friends in the right places.

While Vincent and Letti needed 2 hours for a nap after our early morning, I took Sandy on a walk around the neighborhood for coffee. The only spot we could find after 20 minutes of walking under the 90ºF/32ºC heat were 2 very similar coffee shops inside the Radisson Blu, which in turn also owns 2 separate hotel properties within the same complex in Ikeja. We then found out the hard way that coffee is not a widespread thing in Nigeria.

Once Vincent was ready to pick us up and after playing duck duck goose in trying to find each other within the massive Radisson Blu complex, we then retrieved Letti from her beauty sleep and set off about an hour’s drive southeast for the Lekki conservation center.

Located on the other side of the city way past Victoria Island and after 5 minutes in trying to restart our van on the side of the freeway (with a little help from a man pushing our vehicle for a few feet to get things rolling again), the conservation centre took us in right before they closed the door at 4pm.

Not short of friends and finding monsooners around the world, I reunited with Karthik in the flesh from Egypt, Svalbard and South Korea! His family lives in Lagos for whom he remarkably finds time to hop back and forth between here and NYC.

Although we had intended to grab tickets and start our tour, the office was temporarily closed for about 10 minutes due to enormous crowds already inside. We therefore sought shelter from the heat inside the lecture hall’s decent A/C:

2 very well behaved peacocks inside kept us company:

After about 15 minutes, the ticket office reception desk reopened. Weaving through the crush of people wanting to get in first, we paid 5000 Nigerian nairas per person to get our 4 wristbands.

We were then told to wait up to another 30 minutes before being let in. So we returned to the lecture hall.

After 20 minutes, the guides came up to talk to us, first asking those who were afraid of heights to excuse themselves from the canopy walk and take another route. The rest of us were then let inside the conservation area to explore.

Look for the tree that can cure Gonorrhea:

Although there are reportedly numerous animals in the conservation center, we only saw monkeys brave enough to approach us:

Despite our best efforts to get to the front of the group to save the time we had lost earlier while waiting for tickets, we were relegated to the back where we waited nearly another hour in blocks of lines to get closer and closer to Lekki’s otherwise stunning canopy walk.

Eventually after seeing numerous clusters nervously make their way up the suspension bridge, it was our turn.

Reaching 73ft above sea level and 401m long, it is the longest canopy walkway in Africa.

The first stop takes you to the “Decision Making Tower” above where you have one more chance to turn back before the next tower…

Then it’s all the way through and to the top:

Then once you reach the highest point, enjoy the panorama view of what used to be the jungles of Lagos Island now becoming a 78 hectare conservation center.

Once you reach the Observation Tower, the canopy turns at a right angle while staying the same height above sea level for another tower.

Make a wish?

After the “Wish Making Tower” the walkway returns back to sea level.

Once you get to the “Hands Free Tower,” it’s back to the exit.

You can climb a manmade treehouse on the walk back:

By the time we got back out it was already 7pm and everything else in Lagos to visit was closed. So we headed back to our hotel, stopping in a popular neighborhood on Lagos island for dinner at the cavern restaurant Kappadocia.

Apparently this is the hot spot to be for the upper crust: In the hour and half we dined there we witnessed a proposal upstairs and a birthday party downstairs back to back.

When it came to paying the bill, we confirmed (and after a formal call with Chase Bank) that most of Nigeria would not accept international credit cards whether American or Sandy’s Asian cards. Therefore the manager summoned a black market currency exchanger to come inside and swap our $100 USDs at a rate of $1 for 1170 nairas. Karthik, being a friend, swapped money with me earlier at a slightly better rate of 1200 nairas for $1 USD.

But because of the lack of hard cash in the country, our black market exchanger offered a discount if he could transfer the nairas instead electronically to Vincent’s Nigerian charge account where he could then pay for the dinner and I can keep track of his tab on my end. After the 3 way exchange where we gave $100 USD to him, and then naira from him to Vincent’s account, and then Vincent back to us for our dinner bill, we were squared away for the night and turned in by 10pm.

The next/this morning we slept in and set out at 10am for the Makoko floating village, where a third of the community is built on stilts along the lagoon. To reach there you have to first walk a few minutes through the part of the village on solid land:

Once reaching the edge of Lagos Lagoon, we got into a canoe for an incredible and evocative tour of Makoko and its display of human ingenuity and tenacity.

We stopped at the local orphanage and school, currently housing up to 400 children and where the Makoko chief’s son showed us around. We gave him 10,000 nairas each to help support the community and for the tour:

The views of Makoko from the bridge connecting the school and orphanage:

We then rowed around Makoko for another half an hour where we got to meet and shake hands with the chief himself and nearby and curious children yelled out the equivalent of “foreigner!” in their local dialect (more accurately translated to “white person!”!)

Once getting back on land, we had lunch at a local Bukka Hut for Nigerian (and very spicy) jollof rice and then drove to the equally incredible Nike art gallery:

Belonging to adire textile designer Nike Okundaye, her gallery features exhibits and a ton of traditional to contemporary Nigerian art for sale:

You can climb up 3 stories all the way to the top where there’s no air conditioning (so you wonder how they keep the artwork intact in the intense humidity):

We even got to meet Nike Okundaye herself on the way out:

Feeling inspired (but not having enough room in our luggage to take any back home), we drove to the nearby Lekki Craft market for souvenirs:

Then driving back to Ikeja we took an intense 20 minute walk through the frenzy of Balogun Market, where nearly everything can be sold and bartered:

The oldest Anglican church, Cathedral Church of Christ, Marina, is nearby:

Our walk through the market ended at Shitta-Bey Mosque and also Lagos’ oldest:

Finally, returning to Ijeka, we took a tour of the Kalakuta Republic Museum for 3000 nairas per person:

The museum is located in the 3-story house where Nigerian political activist and Afrobeat recording artist Fela lived and had declared his Kalakuta Republic as an independent self-governing state in defiance of Nigeria’s military dictatorship.

Fela lived there with his family of 27 wives and 7 children until his death in 1997 and his house was then converted into a museum filled with his personal belongings relating to his colorful life and career.

The tour takes up floor by floor, ending at the chill rooftop bar where we got a few drinks and learned how to play the local Nigerian game Mancala:

To finish off our day, we had an early and very local Nigerian dinner at the outdoor poolside restaurants at Esporta Suites:

Tomorrow we head for Benin at 9am where Priyanka and Lauren joins us in Cotonou!

- At time of posting in Lagos, it was 33 °C - Humidity: 75% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: slightly foggy haze

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Meet the Gulf of Guineans!

Calvin Sun — Sun, 10 Dec 2023 03:58:47 +0000

For the first time since May 2019 we were almost going to finally have a monsoon with all first time monsooners! But thanks to a late game time arrival by Priyanka (from our Syria trip!) and Karthik coming to visit his family in Lagos, both of them are going to inject some veteran soul into the group:

Calvin "O Captain My Captain" Sun - Expedition Leader | NYC

Priyanka "Sweet Tooth" Shetty - Returning Monsooner: Sept. '23 (Syria), Winter '19 (Egypt) | SF | Strategy Consulting, Netflix

Lauren Lee - Pharmacist | NYC

Karthik "Vegas" S. - Return Monsooner: Mar. '23 (South Korea), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Nov. '19 (Egypt) | NYC & Lagos

Letti Hale - Dentist | Las Vegas

Sandy Rie - Singapore

From Nigeria to Ghana and then onwards to 4 other countries in the Gulf of Guinea, buckle up for another trip of a lifetime!

Still interested in joining us? More details about the trip can be found here.

And depending on your passport, space may still be available! Inquire by e-mailing: calvin[at]monsoondiaries[dot]com.

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La Gran Canaria In The Coalmine

Calvin Sun — Wed, 29 Nov 2023 18:58:10 +0000

The plan was to get up at 8:30am, pick up our rental car parked on the street to drive to the airport by 9:15am, and board our 10:45am flight from Tenerife North Airport to La Palmas, Gran Canaria.

However, in true adventure monsoon fashion everything went wrong at the same time…and somehow getting resolved just as quickly:

Once we arrived downstairs we found out that the rental car was gone and had been towed for what looked like for illegal street-side parking
Sabrina informed us that the name on her flight ticket — Sabrina — was not her real name listed in her passport and that she did not have any other ID that had “Sabrina” on it.

We sprinted into a plan without a plan: Paul would return back to the lodgings to get our lodging owner and host Marta (who already had been extraordinarily helpful in even getting us her garage to use last night, and which we foolishly turned down having lucked out so far with street-side parking) to drive him to the impound, where I would take the rest of the group to the airport thanks to a nearby taxi stand and get the office to change Sabrina’s name on her ticket.

We were prepared for Paul not being able to find the car, miss the flight, and having the whole itinerary turn itself upside down. But like all good monsoons, that was not going to happen: by 9:15am we were able to change Sabrina’s name on her ticket for €19 at the AirEuropa ticket office at the airport, Paul had got the car out of the impound thanks to Marta’s help for €130, and I was in the airport lounge by 9:45am. Paul was then able to drop off the rental car and join us at the gate with 30 minutes to spare before boarding.

The best part was that this was probably the adventure Marta had been waiting for all along (she loved taking photos of us and messaging them to me on the booking.com platform lol):

After an uneventful 30 minute flight and landing into Las Palmas (hometown of Javier Bardem!) at 11:30am from Tenerife, we looked for our rental car at the LPA airport. After a broken elevator that wouldn’t go down, being led from office to office to office, we then waited for another 20 minutes for one of the only car operators that offers automatic drive. As instructed, we had to wait for them to pick us up in front of a specific part of arrivals before boarding a shuttle bus.

Although they say on the website that the shuttle service is “every 5-10 minutes” and after I had called to let them know we were (they have this automatic “press 1 to let us know you’re waiting for us” on their number), it took nearly half an hour before I decided to go outside to tell the driver of the car rental’s shuttle bus that we were waiting. He promptly ran over with his clipboard, checked us in, took us on the shuttle to the car rental site, and we picked up our Toyota. We then drove out by 1pm.

In exploring more of the island we first stopped for a local Canarian lunch at the town of Valsequillo de Gran Canaria:

These towns by the mountainside such as Valsequilla and Teror are so tiny it’ll take less than an hour to walk around. Satisfied with our tiny town tour, we then drove to our lodgings located by the central district of Triana.

The check in at Santa Ana’s Suites in the central plaza was so contactless that unlike Marta’s daily and nightly greetings in Tenerife, we never met our hosts. They had us find our keys and check into our rooms like an Escape The Room activity (which I always actually enjoy), and left the entire property to explore. Their terrace, for example, has these views:

After freshening up, we decided to get in our daily sunsets early and drove south 45 minutes to the Dunas de Maspalomas. The wild thing about this 998-acre nature preserve is that they somehow hid it behind a massive hotel complex:

You might feel skeptical that sand dunes covering an area of 998 acres could be totally out of sight as you’re walking through the hotel, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it:

Families and couples of all ages, locals and tourists, all just milling about sand dunes that could make you think you were in the Sahara.

Grab a picnic blanket and watch the sunset.

You’ll have to hike 20 minutes over the dunes to reach the beach below, but we circled back to our car and drove around for dinner by the sea at one of the elevated restaurants northwest of the dunes.

We returned back to Las Palmas at 11pm. While Sabrina went to bed, Paul, Ainsley and I enjoyed a bit of drinks and hookah at Origen until they closed their outdoor part at midnight. Then taking advantage of how late it was by then and that there were barely anyone around, we continued our prior dinner conversations about death, time, and reincarnation as we took a stroll down Calle Triana, a pedestrianized street (and Canary Islands’ oldest) that was once voted the best outdoor shopping area in Spain.

Way better than if we had gone during the day:

The next morning we slept in late and enjoyed a breakfast outside our hotel by the cathedral. Then we set out for a 15 minute drive to northern Las Palmas and parked our car by Poema del Mar (about €27 per person for entry), the city’s aquarium (which Paul took 3 attempts trying to enter) and in my limited experiences of aquariums, plays a little Spanish brother to the one in Okinawa.

There’s a cylindrical tank that artfully shows how deep and packed with life under the sea can be:

There’s a tank shaped like a tunnel similar to the one in Atlanta and the underwater restaurant in Maldives (and probably numerous other aquariums I haven’t been to yet):

And the main tank that the aquarium here argues to be protected by the largest acrylic window in the world:

After not more than an hour at Poema del Mar, we walked around some more in the neighborhood outside Poema del Mar beginning at the Parque de Santa Catalina:

From there we walked west to the famous stretch of sand at Playa de Las Canteras:

It’s a long one, taking almost 45 minutes to walk end to end:

Once at the northern part of the beach, we walked back east passing by a food hall and marketplace at 19th century Marcado del Puerto:

After 3 hours wandering, we returned back to Triana for a tour there beginning at the Catedral Metropolitana de Santa Ana de Canarias (€6 euro per person).

If you’re a little hesitant about climbing the usual winding staircase to reach the top of any cathedral, this one has an elevator that takes you straight to the top:

We then finished at Casa de Colón, a former governor’s house that was once visited by Columbus and is now a museum about his voyages.

We then spent another half an hour wandering our charming little neighborhood of Vegueta.

After that and another round of hookah and drinks by Calle Triana, it was time to say goodbye to Paul who had booked a night flight out tonight from Las Palmas. Hopefully the car hasn’t been towed again (it wasn’t) and that you make it out safely!

It’s free time now and the end of another monsoon.

- At time of posting in Gran Canaria, it was 19 °C - Humidity: 40% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and nearly perfect

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Tender-ife

Calvin Sun — Mon, 27 Nov 2023 18:02:20 +0000

The original plan was supposed to be Libya in November. But due to world events and the difficulty of obtaining visas in time, I didn’t want to try to push my luck that I had enjoyed 16 times over with Syria the month prior. So I moved Libya in April and had to come up with a replacement trip: I never give up.

While playing pickleball with 2 of the potential travelers to Libya, we brainstormed ideas of alternative travel destinations for the same dates. Then one of the travelers and prior 3-time monsooner, either Paul or Kimmy, mentioned something something about a “canary in the coal mine” and there was my a-ha moment: Let’s go to the Canary Islands. Flights were cheap, weather was good, and my two travelers who had intended to join me to Libya were both down to join. Due to how cheap it was at $400-$500 roundtrip, I decided to go economy and begin with Tenerife, aka “the island of eternal spring.”

I was supposed to take the 7pm Binter Canarias inter-island 30 minute hopper flight from Gran Canaria, but after arriving right on time at 5pm from the SN3799 Brussels Airlines flight from Brussels, I asked the information desk if I could bump up my flight an hour earlier to the 6pm flight.

No problem.

Not even seconds went by before they issued me a free ticket change to the flight. However, the flight ended up being delayed to nearly 7pm anyway, where I felt we spent more time on the runway than in the air.

At 7:45pm I was picked up by the rest of the crew that had arrived earlier, then driving into the capital city of Santa Cruz de Tenerife to settle into our AirBnb at Niko’s Rooms.

We then freshened up and headed out for a walk around the city center of Santa Cruz.

We arrived just in time for 9pm dinner reservations at Etéreo by Pedro Nel. Even the host from and owner of our lodgings, Marta, stopped by to say hi and take a photo of us:

And we dove right in for their wine and 7 year dry-aged Galician steak:

After a long dinner, we headed to Plaza España for shisha and drinks afterwards at La Capital, after which we then we retired to bed at 2:30am and I surprised myself with not being able to fall asleep; it one of the least amount of sleep in quite awhile.

The next morning “waking up” on the strugglebus, I somehow managed to have enough in me to start with a walk around the Santa Cruz center. I chugged some espressos at the appropriately named Café y Té next door and began with the Baroque style Parish of St. Francisco de Asís, the second most important church in Santa Cruz (after the Church of the Conception), built in 1680 and notable for the large number of artworks inside.

Our host Marta who owns Niko’s Rooms, is friends with the priest here and claims that he will be the next Pope. You heard it here first, folks.

Parish of St. Francisco de Asís also has a side chapel you might miss:

From the Parish we strolled around Plaza de España, the city’s largest square that was built in 1929 and home to an artificial lake.

Plaza España by night:

Within the plaza you can visit the underground remains of the 1500s era Castilla de San Cristobal. One of its cannons is said to have injured the legendary British officer Horatio Nelson.

We then walked south a few minutes to visit the city’s premier church, the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Concepción.

Then circling back uptown, we stopped in at Plaza de la Candelaria where there is free entry to a 18th century house that has been converted to a tourist information office

We then woke up Paul and got into our car to begin our road trip around Tenerife.

Don’t miss Santa Cruz’s most photographed and futuristic further south on your way out or into the city: the curvy landmark of Auditorio de Tenerife Adán Martín, a seafront arts complex & auditorium.

Getting on the main highway we then drove an hour and a half inland and upwards to reach the Teide cable car. The twisty, curvy mountain roads are easy to navigate in any car, so don’t get intimated and enjoy the views:

. . . especially at Mirador de Chipeque:

Once you reach the cable car you can buy tickets there or beforehand online for €40 for a roundtrip ticket.

Although we arrived exactly on time at 1:48pm for a 1:50pm time slot, the guy at the front still made an effort to point out a part on the ticket where it stated “please arrive 20 minutes before.” He then let us on the 2:10pm car “to be nice” as he would say.

So if you want to avoid the passive-aggressiveness, make sure you arrive 20 minutes before whatever is printed on your ticket.

The cable car ride takes about 8-10 minutes to reach the top where we then were recommended by staff and signs everywhere to not take longer an hour for a short hike to explore before having to return to the cable car.

The rocky hike might seem unsteady at first but it manages to be a doable 20 minute short climb to the other side of the peak.

Spritely Spanish (we, and maybe a handful of other Americans and Russians in the single digits, seemed to be the only tourists here today) families and folks of all ages were participating on the hike despite the 3000m+ elevation above sea level, thinner oxygen, and crowds getting in the way.

Do it for the hike and not for any “views” on the other end:

Returning back to the car park at 3:30pm for a lunch at the cafeteria by the cable car entrance, Paul bravely took on extremely windy mountain roads around the volcano . . .

. . . for a visit to Masca, a photogenic mountain village 650m high in the Macizo de Teno mountains and originally a Guanche settlement before Tenerife was conquered by the Spanish in 1496.

Population: 90.

Sunset: Unbeatable.

After sunset, we drove down to sea level for Los Gigantes, a resort town on the west coast facing 500-800m giant rock formations that come out directly from the sea.

Then we took the long drive back, stopping for dinner midway at Bahía Beach Club in the town of Palm Mar.

The next morning after I thankfully caught up on a full night of sleep, we woke up at 8am and dropped off Kimmy back at the TFS airport for her 10:55am flight to Amsterdam. Paul and I then dropped off Ainsley and Sabrina 20 minutes later at Costa Adeje for optional whale watching on a catamaran while we stayed back to hang out at a café restaurant by the marina.

When Ainsley and Sabrina returned and rejoined us at the café, we set back out north, driving by La Montaña Roja:

After 25 minutes on the highway, we reached the Basilica of Our Lady of Candelaria, a pilgrimage site filled with murals, and was designated a minor basilica by Pope Benedict XVI in 2011. We arrived right on time as it opened at 3:00pm in the afternoon.

The surrounding coastal town is also very picturesque:

With a little extra time before sunset, we then picked up some chocolates at Ainsley’s request at local shop Lava, and headed onwards for a walk by Tenerife’s first and oldest city at San Cristóbal de La Laguna, designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999.

Don’t miss its neoclassical cathedral that was completed in 1915. Unlike the other churches we’ve visited, this one will set you back 6 euros per person to enter.

Then we drove another 30 minutes north for sunset at Mirador Pico del Inglés:

The sunset here might give the one at Masca a run for its money:

Center the volcano in your shot and you might have me believe I was looking at Mount Fuji.

Don’t leave just after sunset; stick around a little longer to see the sky light on fire.

And with that, it was time to head back down and say goodbye to Tenerife.

One last Canarian dinner in Tenerife at Bodeguita Canaria next to where we were staying, where our host Marta once again popped by in person to take a photo of us and offer her garage for us to use for our rental car:

The next morning we plan to drop off our rental and bounce out on our 10:45am flight onwards to Gran Canaria.

- At time of posting in Tenerife, it was 21 °C - Humidity: 66% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: It's called "The Island of Eternal Spring" for a reason

The post Tender-ife appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet the Canaries!

Calvin Sun — Mon, 20 Nov 2023 02:59:00 +0000

Let’s get ready for our next monsoon! Switching Libya to April 2024, we decided on a last minute run for the Canary Islands this weekend and how wonderful I have 5 people sign up all at the last minute including:

Kimmy “Kameel” Wu: 4 time monsooner to Saint Lucia, Martinique, and Guadeloupe, El Salvador, and Iraq, Jordan, and Egypt!
Paul “The Shaman” Woo, a 3 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic, South Korea and St. Lucia & Martinique
Ainsley “Jasmine Flower” Martin, a 2 time monsooner returning from South Korea and The Faroe Islands

Once again, I introduce our monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain My Captain" Sun - Expedition Leader | NYC

Paul "Shaman" Woo – Return Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Mar. '23 (South Korea), Jan. '22 (St. Lucia & Martinique) | Photographer | OH

Sabrina C. - Toronto

Kimmy "Kameel" Wu - Return Monsooner: Aug. '22 (The Faroe Islands), Mar' 22 (Iraq, Jordan, & Egypt), Jan '22 (St. Lucia, Martinique, Guadeloupe), Nov. '21 (El Salvador) | Psychologist | NYC

Ainsley Martin - Return Monsooner: Mar. '23 (South Korea), Aug. '22 (Faroe Islands) | Speech-Language Pathologist | Syracuse, NY

And where we’re actually monsooning to this weekend:

Tenerife

Gran Canaria

Still interested in joining us? More details about the trip can be found here.

And space is still available! Inquire by e-mailing: calvin[at]monsoondiaries[dot]com.

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The Nigerian Tourist Visa for Americans/USA Passports

Calvin Sun — Wed, 18 Oct 2023 21:07:55 +0000

It has never been a secret that a visa to visit Nigeria as a tourist has been one of the most difficult if not impossible to obtain: Traditionally travel companies would instead exploit a loophole and issue a business visas on arrival for exorbitant amounts, which was similar to how tourists had visited Saudi Arabia before their new tourist visa on arrival program.

As of recently, and in a sign of things improving for tourism, Nigeria recently has begun a tourist visa program that refreshingly can be performed online ever since earlier this February the USA had in turn opened up their own visa program for Nigerians. However, given such a new program, we were bound to encounter some kinks.

For our group of 4 going so far, we were presented with the following options:

The OG option: Business visa on arrival for $235-$260 where a Nigerian guide and tour company owner can apply for on our behalf, and then generate a visa authorization letter about 10-14 days before arrival so that a tourist can pick up their visa to enter Nigeria at the airport.

Perks: you can apply remotely from anywhere in the USA without having to show up in person at a consulate, embassy, or visa processing office for biometric scanning. This is great for people who live far away from cities with a Nigerian consulate or embassy.

Downside: you might have to wait a little longer at the airport, and it’s a little more nerve-racking when you don’t yet have a visa before you get there. Make sure you pay nothing at the airport and only the guide once you meet him at the airport

The NEW tourist visa option: Obtain a tourist visa beforehand at a local embassy for $160 (which we’d pay online) and then visit a visa processing facility either in Houston or NYC for biometric scanning. You might have to pay a visa processing facility additional $95 to have them mail the Visa to you.

Perks: you get your visa comfortably before the trip, saving time and drama at the airport when you arrive

Downside: you’d have to travel to Atlanta, Houston or NYC if you live outside those cities, but you’d be able to board your flight with the security of knowing that you already have a visa.

The FANCY concierge option: Find a third-party concierge visa service such as https://www.nigeriapassportandvisas.com/ where they can process your visa for around $500+ without having to visit anyone in person. You simply apply online, mail a third party service your passport, and they send it back to you with a visa by mail.

Perks: you get your visa comfortably before the trip, saving time and drama at the airport when you arrive

Downside: trust issues with a third-party handling your passport and it’s also very very expensive

1. I went with the newer tourist visa option. I first applied on Nigeria’s visa website at https://visa.immigration.gov.ng/

Passport Type: Standard Passport
Visa Type: It appears that Multiple Entry 1 or 2 years costs the same as a single entry 6 months, so might as well do the maximum (they gave me 5 year multiple just now)
Processing country: United States
Visa Class: F5A – Tourism Visa
Mission: Your closest mission of choice
Intended date of arrival: Dec. 28, 2023 (or earlier)
Intended date of return: Dec. 30, 2023
Type of Reference: Self
Full name of Inviting Person: (guide name)
Organization Name / Contact Name: (tour company)
Phone Number: +234 (tour company phone number)
Address: (tour company address)
Applicant’s cost of traveling and living covered by: Self

2. Once finishing the application, the site will prompt you to a innovate1services.com screen to pay the $160.

3. After the payment, you’ll see a successful payment screen with your application number and reference number. You’ll use those 2 numbers to book an appointment as the next step (should be an orange button on the “payment successful” screen).

You can either click on that to take you to the OIS appointment scheduler (where there were no appointments for up to 3 months), or book an appointment at https://visa.vfsglobal.com/ (where I was able to get an appointment the next day) if you live in Houston or NYC.

No matter what VFS offers online, pick an appointment no later than 1:00PM as they usually close up everything by 1:30PM at all their offices (more on that below)

4. Print out your application PDF.

5. Go to https://portal.immigration.gov.ng/visa/OnlineQueryStatus and enter your application type Reference No. and ID and click SEARCH RECORD

6. Print both the Visa Payment Slip and Visa Acknowledgement Slip

7. Print 2 copies of the front page of your passport

8. Print out your tour guide’s letter of invitation and passport copy

9. Print the copy of your hotel reservation

10. Print out your flight itineraries into Nigeria and if applicable, out of Nigeria (if driving from Nigeria into Benin, provide a copy of the E-visa for Benin)

11. Bring the following to your visa appointment at the consulate, embassy, OIS or VFS Global:

Appointment confirmation with barcode that they generate for you after you make an appointment online.
Physical copy of your passport
2 copies of the front-page of your passport
2 passport sized photographs
Application PDF, signed and dated
Visa payment Slip
Visa acknowledgment Slip
Flight itinerary arriving into Lagos, Nigeria
Flight itinerary departing Nigeria or West Africa in general
Copy of Benin E-Visa IF you’re driving out of Nigeria into Benin
Bank statement (showing you have adequate funds of at least $1000)
Copy of the host’s Letter of Invitations
Copy of the host’s Nigerian passport
Copy of Hotel reservation
Copy of the itinerary

12. Conduct fingerprinting scans and take a photo at the biometrics office during the appointment

13. Pay whatever you need to pay to have them mail your passport back to you

14. Wait for your passport and new visa!

At my VFS Global appointment in NYC, however, it was anywhere but straightforward: “Then it’s a dogfight.”

1:20pm – Even though on VFS Global’s website offered a 1:30pm appointment time and I even had come in early for it at 1pm on the 4th floor, nobody showed up to process me at the office; all we saw (another applicant also had a 1:30pm appointment with me) was an empty chair with a jacket draped over it.

1:35pm – So far, nothing. I then went back downstairs to ask the lobby security guard, where he then radio’ed the VFS manager who then replied: “It’s 1:37pm. He’s late. That’s why. Tell him to come back tomorrow.” The security guard then radio’ed back saying “uhh he was here since 1pm. I took him in.” Dead silence.

I also responded that I took a photo of an empty chair with a jacket upstairs at 1:20 pm, proving I had been there earlier than the scheduled appointment time. Dead silence.

1:40pm – After a minute, the manager then radio’ed back telling me to come back another time (2 days from now) as all staff are expected to finish up leave by 1:30pm at VFS Global anyway and they weren’t sure why they even allowed for a 1:30pm appointment on their website. She also kept saying “you should’ve booked a morning appointment” (as if we were supposed to know if their own website allowed for a 1:30pm appointment!)

I replied that somebody living and breathing was still upstairs somewhere due to a jacket still on the chair, and I would prefer to stay as long as that staff member is still here.

1:50pm – The manager then sent another guard downstairs to tell me to come another day and I wouldn’t be let back up, but I replied I had left my backpack upstairs and needed to retrieve it. When he offered to get it for me, I said that there might be some patient’s blood splatter on it from a recent shift so I wouldn’t touch it if I were him.

1:56pm – The guard then escorted me back upstairs. Once I retrieved my backpack, I pointed at the jacket and said “someone working here must be still around.” The guard then kept replying that it wouldn’t change the fact that he felt nobody was in the office and even said: “that jacket could be yours.” I then asked if he would be suggesting that I take “my” jacket back with me as well. He froze.

2:01pm – Our ruckus then caused someone to come out from the office to see what was going on. She then remarked how she had no idea how we were still here since 1:20pm since she also was here since 1pm, and moreover, that she’d get someone to process us as soon as possible. The “head security guard” awkwardly slinked away without a word as the 3 of us glared at him for lying.

2:20pm – Soon another staff member came by to process us claiming she was ready for us but thought it was a 2:00pm appointment (which contradicted everything that the guard and manager had said earlier).

2:30pm – I then obtained my biometric scans (4 sets of fingerprints and a photo), and paid an additional $95 by credit card to have them mail it to me by Fedex within 2 weeks (it was delivered to my address by Fedex with signature exactly 2 weeks since drop-off).

On the bright side they gave me a 5 years multiple entry for my USA passport!

You can tell my mood after the kerfuffle above when they took my photo at the biometric scan part:

And this from a comment on Oct 20, 2023 by @netllama:

I went through this fiasco literally a month ago. My appointment was for 9:30AM, and sorta went much more smoothly. I say sorta, because it was still full of drama and nonsense. They honored my appointment, and it seemed to go very smoothly. Yet, 2 hours later, I got a call because the idiot at VFS forgot to charge me their processing fee, and ordered me to come back or they would not actually submit my application to the consulate. I don’t even live anywhere near NYC (and was there for business that day) so it was almost (bad?) luck that I was still in town to go back later that day.

I returned to find out from the front desk guards that the woman doing the Nigerian visa processing was on their break, and was told I had to wait an hour. I decided that was nonsense, and went to the elevator anyway. As I entered, who did I run into, but the lady who was supposedly on her break. Back upstairs we went, she charged me the stupid processing fee, and I assumed all was fine.

Until the next day, when this idiot called me yet again, claiming that my application was incomplete and I needed to return. But no, she had the wrong number, and meant to call someone else. Thankfully she figured that much out while on the phone with me, so that I didn’t waste yet another trip to that hell

I got my passport back (FedEx) 2 weeks later, with the 5 year, multiple entry visa. What a PITA. I go to Nigeria next month.

Best of luck.

BTW, its also (theoretically) possible to do this in Los Angeles.

- At time of posting in New York City, it was 17 °C - Humidity: 709% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: cloudy

The post The Nigerian Tourist Visa for Americans/USA Passports appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

You’re Going To Miss … Syria

Calvin Sun — Thu, 05 Oct 2023 23:53:42 +0000

Once again the premise is simple: Write about a trip without stopping.

PRESS play and read the post with the music . . . <

You’re going to miss seeing familiar names on a roster and the 17 other monsooners willing to join you to a country that’s been on your mind for the last 12 years. Although not everyone is going to make it with a 6 months’ notice for this trip let alone know their schedule this far ahead, the fact that they’re willing to trust you this far ahead already is something to be grateful about. You therefore remind yourself it’s all gravy even before the trip has started, and so we go in with so many conflicting emotions about a country we’ve only heard negative things about in Western media, and therefore conflicting expectations renders us unsure what to expect or feel at all.

You’re going to miss being surrounded by so many veteran monsooners. These are true companions, friends more than your equal, who have joined, co-led and continue to be a part of your adventures. You’ll miss knowing you won’t have another trip like this again when you see their faces at dinner and subsequent lindy-hopping in Beirut, and despite the tremendous jet lag that renders coherent sentences nearly impossible, you show with a smile. You’ll miss the 9 hours of reset sleep later that night, the butterflies and anxiety whether this is really happening?! Yes it is, and your driver Wael says so to your so-so feeling about this, so you follow Wael. When another driver retrieves your last monsooner flying in that morning despite delayed flights, the group forges ahead across the Lebanese/Syrian border. And right on time when it seemed all too good to be true, you definitely won’t miss the single person snag when one of your compatriots has to wait another 2 hours for her visa to be approved. But this is a team, and we stick together: Leave no one behind. You’ll therefore miss being reminded how the sweet isn’t as sweet without the sour, and the celebratory hugs afterwards couldn’t feel any sweeter as all 15 of us proceeded onwards into the oldest capital city in the world where we took our first walk along the streets of its old city. You’ll miss the squeals of delight of how nice your hotel is, appropriate enough for Brangelina in happier times, and after a quick sandwich break and your first you’ll miss weaving around the narrow alleyways and covered souqs to see the grandeur of Umayyad mosque during the wisdom of dusk. You’ll miss sitting down for a chewy frozen dessert treat unlike anything you’ve had before back home, and then ambling down lightless alleyways to climb up a rooftop bar playing Nicki Minaj and Doja Cat on a wall as you tell yourself that you’re finally and still in Damascus.

You’re going to miss waking up to a dream; a beautiful breakfast spread outdoors by the pool, not knowing who knew you wanted to wake up to this, And then you’ll miss the first roadtrip out of Damascus and up the hills into Maaloula where you seared into your head the legend of Saint Thecla so you won’t let down your guide, and meeting the nun in the convent by a tree that grows from the cliff, buying bracelets from her for less than 20 cents a weave, hiking through a valley between mountains and to the ghosts of ISIS past among the rubble of Hotel Safir. You’ll miss wondering who the last guest in the logbook was, taking before and after comparison photos of the hotel, and then admiring a view of Mother Earth and Maaloula in its entirety while the convents’ own adhan fill the air above the hills. You’ll miss trying to catch up to the rest of the group and while you might not miss being admonished for finally not walking as fast as you would back home, you will miss navigating your way out of criticism with a constructive suggestion and enjoying free shots of house wine, arak, and even shisha with the bus drivers before driving onwards.

You’re going to miss being told to close your eyes until opening them anew to castles of old, farflung symbols of a war you learned from history class, then getting used to more abandoned buildings as if they were adult jungle gyms, taking photos outside glassless windows, dancing off a lunch with the most animated dog, and then tea with grapes overlooking Syrian majesty. You’ll then miss having majesty all to yourself, spending an hour witnessing a long forgotten past, climbing up and down citadel walls, always finding another thing to take a photo of, the warm light against golden stone, yelling at both wind and flag, and then spending the night within the mountains with a first dinner feast that makes you realize how truly good Syrian food can be.

You’ll miss late night snack collecting at dueling convenience stores across the street, and waking up the next morning for a long drive eastwards into the deserts of Palmyra, where you take silly group photos in an abandoned car. You’ll miss watching a shawarma cook into perfection before your very eyes, and then it shall be a whole afternoon gallivanting with eternity: Collapsed marble from buildings that once stood high scatter across the sand like jewels across the desert, enlarged silica that remind us both the fleeting nature of flesh and bone and the tenacity of the human spirit that bears witness to a city that has been tried to be destroyed countless times and yet still refuses to die.

You’re going to miss an hour with the bedouins, exchanging friends as brides and grooms, singing happy birthday in Arabic, putting on a sandswept fashion show, and kicking back for ultimate relaxation with your shisha underneath the sun. You’ll miss professing your undying love for Syrian adobo, and the pleasant surprise he might feel the same way before saying goodbye. You’ll miss showing off your favorite snack afterwards, followed by the surprise of your favorite meal with a home-cooked family dinner that went above and beyond to show you that and how you’re family with a surprise birthday cake, dance, and more dancing. You’ll miss catching Homs-henge on your way out, waving hi to ecstatic and curious children, before driving to the nearest hotel in another city, settling in quickly to have another crack at a Syrian dessert downstairs or your first crack at 10% ABV Syrian beer that gets you staying up all night.

You’re going to miss waking up to military warplanes buzzing above you, the new background soundtrack to your morning stroll along engineering marvels. Although you may not miss the sound of diesel rubber, you’ll miss getting to hop a wall behind a restaurant to get a closer look at history, and being rewarded with freshly squeezed juice afterwards. You’ll then miss the drive up past ruins to end up on a hotel rooftop overlooking a city you only heard of in the news 7 years ago and impressing upon yourself that things are just so different when you see places with your own eyes once instead of hearing about it a thousand times over. You’ll miss feeling as if the markets were only opening up for you, as you are probably their only foreign customers for the day, and then the mouths agape at the immensity of the citadel overlooking the city that has survived so much despite the ruin around it. You’ll miss the feast of a lunch while a flutist plays “Ode to Joy” in the background and a parrot makes cat sounds, asking for more water to quench the Aleppo sun, and then endless almond pudding and ice cream. You’ll miss shopping with abandon at a famous soap factory, the thrill of crossing the street to look at a historic clock tower, and then that thrill over the nape of your neck when you watch the reverberating sunset adhan over the city of Aleppo from your hotel rooftop. You might not miss feeling the traveler’s belly afterwards but you may miss wellness hour in your bathing suits in the hotel basement trying to sweat out all the toxins, sweat, and all that creamy Syrian cuisine, followed by magic hour of a dinner back on the rooftop complete with good company, good food, good shisha, good service, good views, and good music. You’ll miss the moon obliging. Followed by a surprise dessert afterwards, you’ll miss thinking how this possibly can’t get any better.

You’re going to miss the underground breakfast, a late morning start to take the long drive back south to Damascus with your maté companion who’s never made maté on a bus ride before until she met you, picking up pistachios along the highway, the beauty of a rebuilt and renovated mosque, and preparing yourself for whether you would be ready to walk through more ruined neighborhoods when you suddenly realize you’re not here to see destruction, but rather reconstruction inherent within the never-ending cycles of death and rebirth, the everlasting hallmarks of nature and human history.

You’re going to miss returning to a city that already seems like a second home, the confidence of walking through the maze of old city on the second time around, shopping at various storied markets and learning how to haggle, returning to dress up for salsa night, being taken in right at the entrance as if you were already a friend and member of the studio, swallowing your pride and awkward fear in favor of butterflies in your stomach as you say fuck it and dance the best you know how with whatever you know of salsa and bachata. While you may not miss the sudden medical emergency that almost put an end to the festivities, you will miss being called to action with your fellow medical colleagues. And after helping a stranger wake up and taking him to an ambulance, you’ll definitely miss hearing the music suddenly change as if they wanted us to stay longer, hearing hits that would make even a red-blooded westerner blush, and especially when challenged to a dance battle in where else but Damascus, Syria?

You’re going to miss running back for one more dance, this time to bhangra of all routines, before scrambling to find taxis as if you were leaving a nightclub back home. You’ll miss feeling like a local with late night falafel munchies as if you were on the streets of downtown Manhattan on a warm September weekend evening, before turning in late, sleep be damned.

You’re going to miss the road trip south for another opportunity to think about The Roman Empire, retelling history by telephone, learning about princesses and scorpions, strutting your stuff down straight street like a catwalk, not needing another postcard, the first sight at one of if not the best preserved Roman theater that once again invites you to have the stage all to yourself. So onstage or backstage, this the closest you’ll get to having the ancient world be your stage. You’ll then miss the drool coming out of your mouth when watching how Fatayer gets cooked and being invited to sample some before the full meal of unlimited fatayers, as well as freshly squeezed pomegranate juice outside before leaving back to Damascus for one final night together. You’ll miss having more time to go shopping among the markets, as well as yours truly having the opportunity to walk around the souqs totally on your own and continuing to wonder what dreams would be like if they were no longer dreams. You’ll miss the last dinner together as if one of us would be getting married, and then bringing the proverbial karaoke house down with final night drinks, WAP and all its cameos, belting out 90s hits, finding out how long some Arabic pop songs can be, becoming impressed at the vocal talents of local titanium-built Syrians, and even feeling at home when they take you home, country road.

You’re going to miss breakfast now hitting a little different knowing it may be your last here in Damascus. And you’ll miss getting to have your own security detail in the heights, the last bathroom break, the last day trip, exploring a museum that turned into a different kind of museum, and stepping over scattered glass and metal from a recent conflict as if one day our own cities of present-day will become Palmyra for another civilization to sift through. You’re going to miss climbing up the ruins of a minaret that gives you views over borders into another country, meandering through abandoned houses of worships of any religion, and then heading back for one final goodbye underneath the bridge. You’ll miss the unexpected signed photographs, unexpected hugs, unexpected gratitude, the music that knows no shame, the gasp and sigh to show you this one will mean a little more than the rest, and the last lingering look behind at a country and people that have deeply affected you more than you had realized. You’ll miss the quiet drive crossing the border, and the sassy officer that stamps you back in before the final sunset goodbye, waving to the end until the last bus disappears below the event horizon, now knowing that you’ll miss each other most of all, having shared an indelible experience for, in, with and within a country that specifically brought us together to consummate a dream more than a decade old.

You will therefore miss Syria. You will miss each other. And you will miss Syria.

The post You’re Going To Miss … Syria appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Let’s Go-lan, Far, and To New Heights Together

Calvin Sun — Tue, 26 Sep 2023 03:52:16 +0000

After saying our goodbyes yesterday to Francois and this morning to Rajani and Chris this morning, all of whom had to leave much earlier for their scheduled flights, we took a detour drive west to the Golan Heights before we’d make our own flights back home from Beirut later in the evening.

About 20 minutes into the drive from Damascus, we reached a checkpoint we were assigned 2 guards driving a Honda that accompanied us for the rest of our time in the Golan Heights.

Little did I know when I had arbitrarily chosen the dates a few months ago that we would happen to visit the Golan Heights on the anniversary of the war that took place right here on Yom Kippur. So, I guess, Happy Yom Kippur?

(We only ask for and come in peace)

After an hour’s drive from Damascus we reached Al Qunaitera, the largely destroyed and abandoned capital of the Quneitra Governorate in southwestern Syria after the war of 1973.

The city is situated in a high valley in the Golan Heights at 1km above sea level.

The Golan Heights themselves, or simply the Golan, is a region in the Levant captured from Syria by Israel during the Six-Day War of 1967; the territory has been occupied by the latter since then and has been subject to a de facto Israeli annexation in 1981.

This region includes the western two-thirds of the geological Golan Heights and the Israeli-occupied part of Mount Hermon.

Since the war’s end in 1973-1974, the city remains inside a UN-patrolled buffer zone pursuant to Security Council Resolution 350 and the Agreement on Disengagement between Israel and Syria.

As we walked around, an occasional UN-marked APC and tank drove up and down the roads here seeming to ignore our presence.

Our first stop was a former antiquities museum that although abandoned, still ironically serves as a museum to what had happened here only half a century ago.

As if it had been placed for symbolic purposes, a solder’s helmet from the war remains.

We then drove to the local mosque, which remains largely intact.

Inside the mosque we found graffiti that seemed to mock Islam. Ophelia believes the mosque had been defaced by groups such as al Nusra when they passed through here.

The mosque remains so sturdy that Ophelia encouraged us to climb with her up the minaret. So we did, where Ophelia then took a photo of me at the top and asked me to smile more despite the somber nature of where we found ourselves in.

So I do what my local guide tells me to do.

From here you can see into the distance where Israel is. We were so close we were able to receive cellular coverage from across the border.

From the mosque we then drove to an abandoned cathedral where you can climb to its second floor for more views.

Our last stop was a bullet-riddled abandoned hospital. Although we could take photos of it, we were not allowed inside by our security detail as it is currently being used by the Syrian military as a staging area.

Although we were then supposed to ascend a hill to reach a platform boasting a view of the Israel city of Majdal Shams, the unofficial capital of the Israeli controlled region of the Golan Heights, recent missile strikes only a few days ago prevented us from making this detour safely. It is because of the proximity of Israel’s military in this region that Syria has yet to formally rebuild its own cities in the Golan Heights.

From the hospital, we then turned around and drove back to Damascus, picking up a few shawarma and falafel sandwiches along the way to eat on the bus.

Once we reached Damascus an hour later, we stopped underneath a bridge to switch buses and drivers for our onward flights out of Beirut, Lebanon. And right on cue, Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You” somehow began playing on its own from my speakers (my my how could such a thing happen) as Ophelia handed our a surprise signed photograph of our group to each of us.

As “I Will Remember You” transitioned to Chantal Kreviazuk’s “Leaving On a Jet Plane” and then to Jeff Buckely’s “Last Goodbye,” our other bus arrived. We then transferred our bags over and made our final goodbyes to both our bus driver Abu Khaled that we had for the week, and our guide turned new friend Ophelia.

Although I’ve endured countless goodbyes after countless monsoons, this one seemed to have sprung a surprise by rendering a harsher emotional impact on me than the rest; as Arcade Fire’s “Dimensions” and This Will Destroy You’s “The Mighty Rio Grande” played and I stared ahead in quiet reflection, we drove an hour towards the border with Lebanon.

To exit Syria, we first needed to pay a 7000 SYP/Syrian Pound departure fee at a kiosk to our left when entering the departures office.

After handing them 77,000 SYP for the 11 of us, the kiosk then handed us our paper slips where we filled out our names and placed them in our respective passports.

We then brought our passports to the main counter where they then stamped us out.

Keep your passport on you and be ready to turn it to the page that has your Syrian exit stamp before you drive out from Syria into no man’s land.

The whole exit process for the 11 of us (8 Americans, 2 Australians, 1 Indian) at the Syrian border took about 10 minutes.

After another 10 minutes of driving through no man’s land towards Lebanon, we got back out to stamp back into Lebanon. Here the wait seemed to be much more chaotic than Syria, where 2 border officers tried to process scores of people trying to cut in (including ourselves at the behest of our driver Dahab; it seemed he was not getting paid by the hour) and illogically creating more lines.

Here it took nearly 30 minutes of waiting patiently in randomly generated queues before we finally reached a sassy Lebanese border officer who made pop culture references with our names. More amusingly, when he asked some of us where we were headed next (therefore answers like “home to USA” or “airport to make a layover in Istanbul” would have sufficed) and some of us responded with “Lebanon” not knowing he meant something else, he responded with “Oh really, you don’t say?”

After nearly 45 minutes total here, we finally got our stamps back into Lebanon.

And with another hour’s drive to the airport, it was finally “Time To Say Goodbye” Bocelli/Brightman style:

The post Let’s Go-lan, Far, and To New Heights Together appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Who’s the Bosra Now?

Calvin Sun — Sun, 24 Sep 2023 22:28:09 +0000

After recovering from an extremely eventful night in Damascus, we woke up at 10am this morning to drive south 2 hours to Bosra. Along the way we got to check out a very deserted rest stop where a man named Qasim Al-Deri asked if we knew another tour leader named Paris.

I raised my hand. Of course I did.

About an hour later we reached Bosra, most well known for its ties to the Roman era when it was a prosperous provincial capital until its decline during the Ottoman Empire.

Nevertheless it remains a major archaeological site and has been declared by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Getting past its gate, we walked through the old center of Bosra while being followed by the occasional postcard and souvenir touts that seemed to have stationed themselves at equidistant parts of Bosra’s ancient straight street.

The Corinthian-style columns remained remarkably upright, with flourishes still retaining their intricate details.

We then climbed up to look down at the former bathhouse:

From another vantage point you can observe Bosra’s old cathedral and basilica.

Here we learned about the story of The King’s Daughter’s Bed, where the king built a bed on top of a column here (that still stands today) to forestall the prophecy that she would meet an untimely and premature death.

The story goes: Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Bosra, a fortune-teller had told the king that his only daughter would die on her 20th birthday from a scorpion’s sting. In response, the king desperately tried to avoid this by ordering her bed to be built at the maximum height that his most skilled builders could reach at the time.

After the bed was built, the king’s enslaved people would deliver food and water to the king’s daughter with ropes. However, on the predicted day of her demise, a basket of fruit was lifted up to her in which a scorpion was hidden under a cluster of green grapes. You then know the rest.

Like the theme of all Greek tragedies: you can’t avoid the fate that has been predestined for you.

After 45 minutes exploring the ancient city ruins, we finally reached the glorious Roman Amphitheatre.

The entrance past the bridge already suggested something out of this world was waiting for us.

We keep climbing…

And then:

At 45m long and 8.5m deep, Bosra’s theater is jaw-droppingly well preserved.

Again with the perennial theme of this trip, we had the theater all to ourselves save for a single Syrian journalist from the state news agency SANA who lingered here to interview us about tourism reopening in Syria. As the biggest group of Americans to ever have visited Syria since the civil war, we made for a great piece.

His article, right on time, came out the next morning.

After the interview, we slowly made our way down to get a look at the main stage up close; here comparisons were made to Arthur Ashe or Forest Hills stadium back in Queens, New York.

Even the backstage has remained so intact it’s as if this place was abandoned just yesterday:

My mind filled with possible event ideas that could take place here once Syria opens up more:

After an hour here and before returning back to Damascus, we enjoyed a remarkable homemade fatayeh lunch right by the amphitheater’s entrance.

The restaurant’s owner, a Sunni Muslim, related to Nishant his personal views of the state of affairs here in Syria which were noticeably different from the viewpoints we had heard more north in Damascus.

After lunch we drove back to Damascus where we had enough leftover free time to explore the old town of Damascus on our own.

Instead of shopping, I took a half an hour’s walk by myself in the maze-like corridors of the old city. What struck me the most once I got off the beaten path from the constant staring that tourists would be used to in many parts of Damascus, nobody in these back alleyways batted me an eye.

After our last dinner at Naranj, a fancy restaurant and venue usually booked for weddings, we ventured out for karaoke at a bar called St. Paul’s, where Sampson shocked us all by having WAP make another surprise appearance. Although at first we were taken aback as we had been when we heard it last night at the salsa party, we were immediately reassured when the other local Syrian groups of friends joined in earnest and even sung along louder to WAP than he did.

And right on time, our guide Ophelias boss and owner of Golden Team, Fadi, made an appearance himself to sing 2 songs as well as thanking us for visiting Syria. He also brought two co-workers, Carmen and Serena, the latter of whom got in an impressive rendition of “Sway.”

As the night went on with hits such as Titanium and Anaconda (sung and even danced to by a local Syrian that looked like Sam Smith), and even Old Country Road that was requested by a local instead of us Americans, we headed back for bed by 2am. This sadly was our last night here in Syria.

- At time of posting in Bosra, it was n/a - Humidity: n/a | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Humbling Homs

Calvin Sun — Sun, 24 Sep 2023 03:56:40 +0000

This morning after breakfast and another quick workout at Hotel Laurus in Aleppo, we drove back south towards Homs at 9am.

Along the highway towards Homs we stopped for local pistachios back at Hama.

While our family dinner 2 nights ago was in the new city of Homs, today we drove to observe the badly destroyed old city of Homs from the Syrian civil war.

To prepare us, scenes of destructions littered alongside the highway between Hama and Homs.

Once arriving into old Homs, we first spent about half an hour at the renovated Khalid ibn al-Walid Mosque.

This Ottoman-style mosque was built in commemoration of Khalid ibn al-Walid, an Arab military leader who ended Byzantine rule in Syria at the Battle of Yarmouk after which led the Muslim conquest of Syria in the 7th century.

After 20 minutes at the mosque, we then headed outside to finally face the destroyed city of old Homs:

With a tour through this part of Homs, we quickly walked through neighborhoods that were completely damaged by the war.

But like what I had discovered when I was in Mosul 6 years ago right after the fall of Daesh, life always finds a way.

Not wanting to spend too longer as if it would seem we were overstaying our welcome and lingering for the wrong reasons, we drove onwards back to Damascus.

Once freshening up back at our favorite Talisman Hotel, we spent an hour souvenir shopping back in the old souqs by the Umayyad Mosque.

By 9pm we returned to change and headed out for a salsa party on the rooftop of Hotel Cham. Ophelia was able to set this up for us through Mihalea’s local Syrian friend Fadi, whom she had first met on a study abroad trip a few years ago in Nepal.

The atmosphere at the party was nothing short of incredible. This will likely endure as the trip highlight that made Syria special for everyone; the energy that invited us was pure and genuine, with the perfect amount of hospitality and without the overabundance of curiosity we had to gotten used to.

In other words, we were all offered a chance to dance salsa as if we had been part of all their longtime dance studios and without any judgment.

Then a minor scare occurred where not only did Leshawn accidentally bump her head against a revolving door leading to a flap laceration, the doctors in our group were then summoned again to assist one of their friends and dancers in distress, and who appeared to be having his first seizure. It was back to work; we were able to bring him back to consciousness from what appeared to be a post-ictal period and after I lifted up his legs to bring blood back to his brain.

After he got up on his own, we got him a few friends to take him to an ambulance waiting downstairs. The party then resumed with hip hop and a b-boy dance off with 2 of their b-boys and with myself and Sampson.

After our battle, they played hits including Temperature and WAP! We then finished it off when Priyanka, Rajani and I ran back at the last minute to perform bhangra to Beware of the Boys.

Taking cabs back to the old city of Damascus, some of us grabbed some munchies such as chicken shawarma and falafel sandwiches as if we were right back at home before turning in at 2am.

- At time of posting in Homs, it was n/a - Humidity: n/a | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: n/a

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Taking Aleppo-f Faith

Calvin Sun — Sat, 23 Sep 2023 03:51:42 +0000

From Hama this morning we drove north to Aleppo, once the largest city in the country and the focal point of the Syrian civil war that had decimated much of the population.

Once reaching Aleppo 2 hours in, we checked into our hotel at the fancy upmarket Laurus Hotel with its Western rooftop bar that would give even the ones back home a run for its money.

We then took a short walk through the city center of one of the oldest continually-inhabited cities in the world.

We observed the destruction that occurred in the conflict with Daesh . . .

. . . as well as the ruins from the recent earthquake 7 months ago.

Some parts have been fully restored, giving Aleppo hope for renewal:

Look around hard enough and you might even spot a rare Star of David somewhere here:

We then walked back through the old covered souk . . .

. . . which is still being renovated from the war.

We even did some souvenir shopping while here. Tourism is coming back!

We then finished our walk at the well-known Aleppo Citadel, a massive medieval-era fortress in the middle of the city:

Although currently closed for renovations, the citadel has still survived nearly everything time has thrown at it while surrounded by rubble of a more modern city.

Jumping from shade to shade under a fiery sun that reminded us of our week in Crete 2 months ago, we stopped for a late lunch by the citadel and a historic ice cream shop for dessert. The almond pudding and frozen dairy treats were out of this world.

We then drove on to the famous Aleppo soap factory for souvenir shopping.

The owners here insisted on taking a photo with us afterwards:

After an hour at the soap factory, we made a quick stop at the Aleppo clock tower before heading back to the hotel.

We returned just in time for sunset at the rooftop.

As the adhan played, we took it all in. This is Aleppo.

Not many moments like these.

After sunset, the 12 of us checked in for our 7pm reservations at our hotel for communal cleansing. The hotel had a decent gym (with weights going up to 60kg dumbbells!), dry and wet saunas, cold plunge, turkish baths, and scrub all for $17 USD per person, as well as an optional 10 minute massage for $4 USD per person. Taking advantage of these prices!

At 9pm we reconvened for dinner back at the hotel’s rooftop, after which some of us stayed up chatting over shisha and dessert until 12:30am.

- At time of posting in Aleppo, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 49% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear, mostly sunny

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Hama-ch Is It?

Calvin Sun — Fri, 22 Sep 2023 18:20:11 +0000

After a dinner in Homs yesterday with Fadi’s family, we then spent then night in Hama (Homs does not yet have the infrastructure such has hotels to accommodate tourists) with late ice cream, a quick walk around, and last minute 10% ABV beer delivered to our hotel room afterwards.

We found it ironic that we found a statue of Assad in Hama. The Sunni majority here had once made Hama the epicenter of an uprising against the policies of Arab nationalism and the Ba’ath philosophy. The President’s brother, Rifaat al-Assad, later ensured a siege of the city to violently put an end to the revolts; the subsequent executions became known as the Hama massacre, a story that remains highly sensitive here in Syria.

The Hama Massacre also led to the military term “Hama Rules” which means scorched earth tactics against and total destruction of a military target.

Waking up the next morning to the sounds of military jets buzzing above, we had breakfast at the hotel while hearing about everyone’s hangovers on the 10% ABV Syrian “Buzz Beer” that Hotel Nora had served us last night.

At 10am we took a morning stroll along their famous (and distinctly noisy) waterwheels, also known as norias.

Hama had been home to 17 norias that dated back to the Byzantine times. Fed by the Orontes river, they are up to 20 meters/66 feet in diameter with the largest being the al-Mamunye and the al-Muhammediye, built in 1361, the latter of which was designated a Historic Mechanical Engineering Landmark by the American Society of Mechanical Engineers as marking a major international advance forward in engineering technology.

There are only 9 norias remaining. Originally they were used to route water into aqueducts, which led into the town and the neighboring agricultural areas. They now make a sound that sound like an inconsistent diesel engine or struggling rubber tires in friction about to come off.

A restaurant overlooking the river will let you climb over the back wall for a closer shot of the waterwheels.

We also took that morning enjoying a walk along Hama’s old town to look behind the music, I mean, the waterwheels.

Once 11am came around we drove north to Aleppo.

- At time of posting in Hama, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 42% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: mostly clear

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In the Palmyra of My Hand

Calvin Sun — Fri, 22 Sep 2023 03:31:29 +0000

Today is the day most of us have been waiting for: We drive to Palmyra, the crown jewel of archaeological sites in Syria.

Right by the sign that leads to Palmyra, we’d warn you not to pick up any stray hitchhikers along the way.

From Mishtaya we drove 3 hours first into the town of Palmyra where we stopped for quick falafel sandwiches to hold us over while the rest of us salivated over their shawarma in the making.

The ruins of Palmyra’s ancient city is right by the inhabited town, which remnants date back to the Neolithic period and has changed hands among various empires before it became a subject of the Roman Empire.

A word of warning for those with limited space on their cameras or phones: this place is as photogenic in photos as it is in real life.

After the Roman Empire fell, Palmyra became a minor center under the Byzantines and future empires. Over its storied history Palmyra has been destroyed and rebuilt on numerous occasions before it finally became a time capsule and excavation site.

We first stopped and walked down underground into an ancient burial site and tomb for wealthy families from Palmyra. Don’t forget your headlamp.

While underground, turn left to find a narrow passageway and climb in see an excavation still in progress. It can get a little claustrophobic here.

After getting back above ground, we visited a nearby spring that demonstrated Palmyra to be the desert oasis that allowed civilizations to thrive here and even once challenge Rome for influence within its empire.

Although Daesh destroyed large parts of Palmyra 7 years ago, it was recaptured by the Syrian Army on March 2nd 2017. And to their surprise when they liberated Palmyra, much of the old city remained intact. Therefore there’s still a lot to see here.

Palmyra’s wealth as traders along the Silk Road had enabled the construction of monumental projects for a city at the time, such as the the agora:

If you look for it by the entryway, there is an ancient inscription that acts like a Rosetta Stone for 3 different languages on how to conduct yourself in the agora and markets that had once stood here.

We then walked down the Great Colonnade:

…and reached the theater, which acoustics still remarkably work.

More sobering, however. this was also where Daesh conducted public executions when they had occupied Palmyra 7 years ago.

Next we moved on from the theater to take a group photo under the monumental arch:

…before relaxing our legs under the shade for an hour at the local bedouin camp nearby. There they served us tea, shisha, and even let us try on bedouin wear for an impromptu fashion show.

This was also where Chris subtly expressed his love for his Syrian adobo, our assigned security officer at Palmyra, who then later admitted he had known all along before he bid us farewell.

Before leaving Palmyra, we made one final stop at the Temple of Bel. Here Sampson helpfully whipped out a 3-D printed replica of what the Temple of Bel had looked like before its destruction at the hands of Daesh:

After about 2 hours in Palmyra, we headed back west to the city of Homs for dinner.

Show off your favorite snack:

Once arriving in Homs, we were met by the family of Ophelia’s boss Fadi, who had prepared us an indelible home cooked feast.

They even unveiled a surprise birthday cake for Sampson, who almost got away with not letting us know!

We proceeded to then let them teach us a Syrian type of celebratory dance while we in return showed them the Electric Slide, Jerusalema, and Soulja Boy.

As the sun began to set we thanked the family and headed out from Homs.

Because there currently exists no infrastructure to accommodate tourists in Homs, we drove about an hour’s north to Hama to turn in at Nora Hotel.

After half an hour to freshen up at the hotel, we went back downstairs for booza and other desserts next door.

- At time of posting in Palmyra, it was 32 °C - Humidity: 17% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: feels like the Greek heat wave again

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Swinging from Krak des Chevaliers

Calvin Sun — Thu, 21 Sep 2023 03:50:14 +0000

After our morning in Maaloula we drove 2 hours to Krak des Chevaliers, one of the most important preserved medieval castles in the world. Ophelia cheekily made us close our eyes for a few seconds just so we can open them to this:

Ophelia then recommended that we could take photos from an abandoned restaurant building; you can climb up to its second floor for better views.

We then stopped for an hour’s lunch at Hotel Bebars overlooking the citadel. The complimentary tea and grapes afterwards hit the spot. What a feeling.

Calling the site ahead to let us visit a little later, we then wandered in the late afternoon and had the citadel all to ourselves.

The site was first inhabited in the 11th century by Kurdish troops before it was handed off to the Knights Hospitaller in 1142 (best represented by this hallway where they used to convene for summits). . .

. . . it was then reconquered by the Muslims in 1271.

Then during the Crusades, Krak des Chevaliers became an administration center and military base. Their immense horse stable best represents this. And don’t miss the bug-filled secret door on the left!

We then climbed to the very top for a walk along the castle walls.

At its peak, Krak des Chevaliers housed a garrison of around 2,000 soldiers, and today it is regarded as a symbol of the Crusades.

Even T. E. Lawrence (popularly known as Lawrence of Arabia) wrote that Krak des Chevaliers was “perhaps the best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world, [a castle which] forms a fitting commentary on any account of the Crusading buildings of Syria”.

Right before we boarded our bus, the castle’s keeper came out of nowhere and beckoned for us to check out a hidden back church which he unlocked for us.

Catch this light at dusk:

After over an hour at the citadel, we drove back into the mountains at Mishtaya and checked into our lodgings at Villa Rose Hotel. Then we enjoyed our first full Syrian dinner at Le Monde a few blocks away:

- At time of posting in Mishtaya, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 68% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear, sunny

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Hallelujah, Maaloula-h!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 20 Sep 2023 20:55:36 +0000

For our first full day in Syria and driving an hour from Damascus, we arrived at Maaloula at 10am.

Located 56 km to the northeast of Damascus, Maaloula is a beautiful and serene village built into the mountains at an altitude of more than 1.5km above sea level.

The language of Christ, Western Aramaic, is still spoken here. Maaloula is therefore is one of three remaining villages where Aramaic is still used with the other two being the nearby and smaller villages of Jubb’adin and Bakhah.

Fadi, the owner and head of Golden Team, stopped by soon afterwards to say hi.

We then climbed up to visit the Convent of Saint Thecla, which the 2nd century Acts of Paul and Thecla accounts a noble virgin and pupil of Paul the Apostle named Saint Thecla. Most of it has been renovated after Daesh.

According to legends of this church, during the Roman era Saint Thecla was persecuted by her father because of her Christian faith. She then fled here.

Stopping to pray at where Maaloula is today, the mountain split open and let her escape through where she then stayed for the rest of her life. The town Maaloula therefore gets its name from this gap in the mountain which you can hike through for about 10 minutes.

It reminded us of the walk you have to take to reach Petra in Jordan.

We then circled around from the other side of the gap up to Safir Hotel, which sadly symbolizes how Maaloula was a highly contested region between the Al-Nusra Front and the Syrian Army back in September 2013.

If it’s not obvious enough:

As of time of posting, they still have kept the shell of the car bomb that detonated in the parking lot (about a year after the hotel closed its doors to guests).

We had about half an hour here exploring.

They even left the log book here next to unexploded ordinance at what was formerly the hotel reception desk. The last guest to have signed in here paid by cash and stayed for one night on August 8th, 2010.

Hiking onwards from Hotel Safir, we reached the Saint Sarkis Monastic Complex, one of the oldest surviving monasteries in Syria. Built on the site of a pagan temple, this renovated structure dates as far back as the Byzantine period in the 5th-6th century AD.

Saint Sarkis is the Syrian name for Saint Sergius, a Roman soldier who was executed for his Christian beliefs. This monastery still recalls and honors that solemn history.

The monastery also is home two of the oldest icons in the world, with one depicting the Last Supper.

Then with a 5 minute bathroom break at the café shop by the complex (including a free shot of wine at the gift shop, local arak liquor at the café shop outside, and shisha with the bus drivers), we drove onwards to Kraks des Chavealiers.

- At time of posting in Maaloula, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 21% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear, sunny

The post Hallelujah, Maaloula-h! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Damascus Anything About Syria!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 20 Sep 2023 03:08:06 +0000

It has been a trip 12 years in the making and probably the last casualty of COVID-19 that I’m finally making up for. And as should be expected by now I’m a man of my word when it comes to travel promises: I followed through on Wales and Svalbard when both got moved twice because of COVID-19, and now it’s Syria’s turn to be consecrated as a long overdue monsoon.

And what I’m even more grateful for is that each attempt to visit Syria always came accompanied by a consistent group of 14-16 monsooners. It would be no different this time and it’s always easier when I’m surrounded by veterans; all of them had no issue flying into Beirut, Lebanon at least a day before to begin the trip.

From NYC I woke up early at 5am to work the annual Bronx 10 Mile race in the South Bronx by Yankee Stadium.

It was 6 years ago here where I had my first ever race medicine experience as an attending and brought back a cardiac arrest that thus cemented me as the de facto “dark cloud” of NYRR.

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After the race I returned home by 1pm to quickly pack and say goodbye to Rik and his partner Judith who happened to be staying the night before and were flying out across the Atlantic at the same time, although to different airports. Rik, whom I traveled with in Venezuela, Kurdistan, and Angola, is also the one who helped set up this trip for us in the first place! What a great way to bless the trip before it starts.

I then headed out to JFK Airport for my 4:30pm Air France flight to Paris.

For this flight I transferred 30,000 in Chase Ultimate Rewards points to become Air France’s Flying Blue miles where I was then able to book a Premium Economy seat for free. Then that morning during the Bronx 10 Mile race I received an e-mail offering to upgrade to business class for $475 USD. Air France Business class for $475 USD and 30,000 miles? That’s a steal.

Once landing in Paris, I navigated through the illogical labyrinth of CDG Airport with Mihaela and did our best with getting nowhere at the M gate part of Terminal 2E (whatever that means). Although we were coming from the same flight, I found a transfer bus that took me to M gates which obviated the need to go through security for me whereas she found a shuttle train that required her to go through security again at M gates.

Not wanting to feel left out (I’m being sarcastic), I left my bags with her to take that shuttle train to another part of Terminal 2E so I could check out the Yotel Air airport lounge.

The lounge being tiny tiny, I came back with snacks before we boarded our onward flight to Beirut Airport; good to be finally back in Beirut for the first time in 12 years! And thanks to Booking.com’s robust interface we were quickly met after passports and at arrivals by a happy and jocular taxi driver who took us straight to our lodgings at Gemmayzeh Street within 20 minutes of arrival. While Mihalea joined the others at Hotel Meshmosh, I then checked in at Hotel Lost across the street.

With extra time before dinner, I unpacked, changed, and walked over to a nearby gym called Barbell House for a quick workout before returning back to change again before our informal introductory dinner at Loris Restaurant.

Jill would join us later that night at around 11pm after we had moved on for drinks at a Lindy Hop event nearby. After a quick call with Fadi over the phone, I would leave early to get in my glorious 9 hours of sleep that was long overdue.

At around 10am the next morning we convened in the lobby of the appropriately named Hotel Lost on Gemayzeh Street to meet our first driver Wael. As Rajani was flying in at the same time, we also sent another driver named Bilal to find her at arrivals (a tall order since she ran out of free Wi-Fi at the airport the moment he began looking for her…luckily a last minute photo of her that we sent him did the job).

Both our vehicles then drove an hour towards the Lebanon/Syria border at Masnaa.

About 20 minutes from Masnaa, we paused at a rest stop for an extended bathroom and breakfast break as Rajani was reunited with us to complete our group.

Once we reached Masnaa on the Lebanese side, we stamped out pretty quickly.

Afterwards we drove 10 minutes towards the Syrian border across no man’s land.

Once we arrived at the official border crossing into Syria, we were joined by our Golden Team guide Ophelia who introduced herself and quickly inserted herself as part of our group of friends.

As Americans with USA passports, getting a visa at the border was actually the easy part; the actual rate-limiting factor was that we had to give ourselves at least a 3 month window to obtain the security clearances for our group first in order to be authorized to obtain our visas at the border.

And although we had expected 3 months to hear back, we were actually given the all-clear only 2 months in, which allowed another month for last minute USA passport holders to also join along our group for an expedited fee (with Andaleeb joining as recently as last week!)

The fee for security clearances for USA passport holders (if given adequate time) starts at $150 per person, which we paid to our guide for having had already pre-paid for us, and with that we would easily able to obtain our visas at the border to pass through.

You first have to drop off your passport at this counter to begin processing.

Then you get back your passport and walk to the back of the room to a visa counter to pay the fee depending on your nationality (at the time of posting, Americans pay $160, Australians and UK pay $130, and Indian passport holders have to pay $52)

With the payment receipts in hand, you return to the original counter where the officer then stamps you in!

However, as the 14 of us got in without an issue (including our last minute American signup Andaleeb, and our Indian passport holder Priyanka), Lisa was repeatedly being denied on her Australian passport.

From offering her Hungarian passport, turning up the waterworks, or even sending a driver and booking her a hotel room in the Lebanese border town of Aanjar for her to come tomorrow instead, our far-fetched contingency plans were quickly made obsolete by a persistently helpful Syrian border officer who claimed to Ophelia someone in the back office on their end had misspelled her name in the visa processing a month ago.

After 2 more hours of sorting out this bureaucratic oversight, Lisa was approved and hugs were had all around.

We then immediately celebrated, obviously, with trying to get SIM cards at the border data shop next door.

After another 45 minutes here, we then continued on towards Damascus, arguably the oldest capital city in the world since 2500 B.C.

With another 45 minute drive from the border we arrived at Damascus by 5:30pm and settled into our lodgings at the gorgeous Talisman Hotel.

If Brad and Angelina stayed here, why can’t we?

We took 30 minutes to freshen up before grabbing a quick sandwich lunch/dinner/dunch/linner/lupper in the courtyard.

The guy who came by to deliver us food also was an exchanger, giving us the equivalent of $50 USD worth of cash in Syrian Pounds/SYP:

As the sun began to set, we immediately set out from the hotel onto Straight Street.

During the Hellenic/Greek era of Damascus, the city was re-designed by Hippodamus who gave the city its grid structure. The longest of these streets at 1.5km in length was called Straight Street. It also became known as the Street called Straight which then was referenced in the New Testament as the old decumanus maximus/the main Roman road, of Damascus, Syria.

According to the Acts of the Apostles (9:11), Paul the Apostle stayed in a house on Straight Street. And according to the King James Version of the English bible:

“And the Lord said unto him (i.e. Ananias), Arise, and go into the street which is called Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas for one called Saul, of Tarsus: for, behold, he prayeth.”

A 10 minute dash along this famous street led us finally to the one and only Great Mosque.

Also known as the Umayyad/Omajaden Mosque, this was once an Aramaic temple that was converted into a Roman temple to Jupiter, then a Byzantine church, and then a mosque, and has been since regarded as one of the oldest, largest, and most majestic in the world.

Inside the mosque is no less splendid:

And they are very very liberal with letting anyone take photos here, including in very front where people pray towards Mecca.

I took advantage of this:

The interior also houses the burial place of John the Baptist’s head, a tradition originating in the 6th century.

They’ll even let you take a photo of it inside:

…or even a group photo in front of it:

The mosque retains its splendor even at night:

And just up there with the mosque, we then also headed out to walk through the famous Al Hamidieh Grand Bazaar (also known as the Al-Hamidiyah Souk).

In the souk we stopped for a quick “ice cream” break at Bakdash, known in the Arab world for its traditional Middle Eastern booza — a mastic frozen dairy dessert

We then took it all in with a leisurely stroll along the nightlife of Damascus, a perfect time to get acquainted with daily life here.

And while in the old centre of Damascus, we found a nice rooftop bar where we kicked back with some local beer, blue wine, shisha, as they projected uncensored music videos of Doja Cat, Shakira, Taylor Swift, Nicki Minaj…you name it.

By 11:30pm we retired to bed for our first day in Syria. We just made a 12 year dream come true.

Tomorrow we leave for a roadtrip up into the mountains into Maaloula!

- At time of posting in Damascus, it was 25 °C - Humidity: 35% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and clear

The post Damascus Anything About Syria! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

Meet the Monsooners to Syria!

Calvin Sun — Wed, 06 Sep 2023 17:03:11 +0000

No matter what happens, I am grateful to know I live in a world where even if I’m heading to a place like Syria, a wonderful group of great people will always come along. It has happened before, it has happened again, and it is happening again. People who follow through. People who prove themselves by following through.

What is life when 16 exceptional, self-actualized, forward thinking, culturally competent, and socially conscious individuals — 11 of whom have traveled with me before — climb onboard for a type of experience where 99% of the world would otherwise look the other way?

. . . And I’m especially grateful to those returning with me for their 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, or even 17th monsoon:

Mihaela “Compass”: 17 time monsooner (across at least 30 countries!) to Trans-Mongolian (Mongolia to China), Tibet, Scotland, the Balkans, the Persian Gulf, Luxembourg, Slovenia, Armenia, Egypt, USA, Cyprus, Sardinia, Saudi Arabia, Iraq & Jordan, Vancouver, the Horn of Africa, and The French Polynesia
Sampson “Puffin Sniper” Lau, 5 time monsooner to Svalbard, Australia, The Pacific Coast Highway, Vancouver, and Sardinia!
Nishant “Wolf Of Wall Street” Anandan:4 time monsooner to Wales, Afghanistan, Armenia, and Sardinia
Amelia “Chief Rescue Officer”, 3 time monsooner returning from The Greek Epic, Svalbard and French Polynesia
Melissa “Look! Pizza!” Weinnman, 2 time monsooner returning from the Least Visited Countries and the Trans-Mongolian Railway
Melinda “Sunrise Hiker” Kwok, 2 time monsooner returning from Meteora and South Sudan
Bryce “Cowboy” Maynard, previous monsooner to Australia
Jillian “Rebirth” Evalle, previous monsooner to Côte d’Ivoire
Rajani “Wine O’ Clock” Mohan, previous monsooner to El Salvador
Andaleeb “Hood Rat” Raja, previous monsooner to Iraq
Chris Franz & Francis DeAsis: My NYC Marathon volunteers going on their first true international monsoon

And the people I’ve picked up along my journeys:

Priyanka Shetty, whom I met and traveled with in Egypt!
Lisa Vitaris, whom I met and traveled with from the Least Visited Countries!

Once again, I introduce our monsooners:

Calvin "O Captain My Captain" Sun - Expedition Leader | NYC

Amelia "Chief Rescue Officer" Shillingford - Returning Monsooner: Jul. '23 (The Greek Epic), Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Apr. '22 (French Polynesia) | Chief Nursing Officer & NP, Psychiatry | VT

Melinda "Mundari Warrior” Kwok (Meteora only) - Return Monsooner: Jul' 23 (Meteora), Mar '23 (South Sudan) | Engineer | KC Engineering | NYC

Bryce "Cowboy" Maynard - Returning Monsooner: Winter '17 (Australia) | Copyright Law | Alexandria, VA

Melissa "Candy Floss" Weinmann - Return Monsooner: Winter '19 (Least Visited Countries), Jan. '17 (The Transmonglian & Tibet), Winter '16 (The Silk Road) | Chicago, Vanuatu | Peace Corps. | Loyola University Chicago

Annie R. - Returning Monsooner: Mar. '22 (Iraq) | NYC | Toxicologist & Emergency Medicine Physician

Christian Franz - Medical Student, RN | NYC

Francis "Francois" DeAsis - Miami | Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation Physician

Mihaela "Compass" K. - Lieutenant, Senior Monsooner: Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Oct. '21 (Saudi Arabia), Sept.'21 (Sardinia/Corsica), Jun '21 (Cyprus), Aug. '20 (USA), Dec. '19 (Egypt), Nov. '18 (Armenia), June '18 (The Persian Gulf), Oct. '17 (Slovenia), Aug. '17 (The Balkans), May '17 (Luxembourg), Mar. '17 (Scotland), Jan. '17 (Mongolia & Tibet), May '23 (Horn of Africa) | NYC | Cytologist, Mt. Sinai

Nishant "The Wolf of Wall Street" Anandan - Returning Monsooner: May '22 (Wales), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica), Jun. '19 (Afghanistan), Nov. '18 (Armenia) | London, UK | Associate | RBC Capital Markets | The Australian National University

Sampson "Apalca" Lau - Returning Monsooner: Jun. '22 (Svalbard), Sept. '21 (Sardinia & Corsica), Winter '17 (Australia) | Mountain View, CA | Engineer

Jillian "Rebirth" K. - Return Monsooner: Jan. 23 (Côte d'Ivoire) | Pre-med | NYC

Rajani "“Wine O’ Clock" Mohan - Return Monsooner: Nov. '21 (El Salvador) | NYC | Doctor

Lisa "Free Solo" Vitaris - Return Monsooner: Winter '19 (Least Visited Countries) | Australia

Priyanka "Sweet Tooth" Shetty - Returning Monsooner: Winter '19 (Egypt) | SF | Strategy Consulting, Netflix

Leshawn A. - NJ

And where we’re actually monsooning to this Spring:

Damascus

Aleppo

Sednaya/Maaloula

Palmyra

Crac des Chevaliers

Deir Mar Musa

Bosra

Damascus

Still interested in joining us? More details about the trip can be found here.

And space is still available! Accepting non-USA passport holders only; USA passport deadline has passed, although exceptions may apply. Inquire within: calvin[at]monsoondiaries[dot]com.

The post Meet the Monsooners to Syria! appeared first on The Monsoon Diaries.

You’re Going To Miss … The Greek Epic

Calvin Sun — Tue, 01 Aug 2023 13:31:52 +0000

The challenge is simple: Pick a song and write about a memory without stopping.

This is the result.

PRESS play and read the post with the music . . .

You’re going to miss landing upon castle walls of ancient history bearing names from old high school curriculums, wandering amongst antiquity, and the morning sunshine with an espresso along an empty corridor getting to know a new friend. You’ll miss that kind of perfect breakfast with your first Greek yogurt to soothe confused stomachs, and beating the heat of a mighty sun while walking to where the Colossus of Rhodes once stood. You’ll miss the allure of a small enough city to allow for a free afternoon where you work out for the first time while on a trip, and then meeting for dinner al fresco above a fortified wall and almost ordering the entire menu.

You’re going to miss another morning serenade in Rhodes, reminiscing over life and teenage crushes that carry you within the nooks and crannies of the Athens nightlife. While you may not miss having lost your luggage the past few days, you will miss the synchronicity of walking by the very person calling you about having found your bag. You’ll then miss the surprise of being allowed to jump ahead of the queue for drinks at someone’s favorite rooftop bar, then migrating to another rooftop as your stomach churns with the expectation that more are coming, more are arriving.

You’re going to miss reuniting with your Greek best friend who takes you on a roadtrip north, pleasantly surprised to stop where favorite childhood story had taken place, before driving into what looks like the surface of Mars … This otherworldly land. You’ll miss seeing unspeakable natural columns float above your car window as you settle into your guesthouse right at the base of one, staring back up as if they were once giants that had walked these lands before having become frozen in time, watching eternally over us as humanity slept.

You’re going to miss that Greek dinner that will already make you miss all Greek food long after the trip is over, and the relief of being even warned by a local not to attempt any hike the next day due to the heat wave. So you’ll miss when you slept in, and then after introducing another addition to the group, you’ll miss never skipping leg day climbing up one monastery to another. You’ll miss playing a yacht week playlist you’ll never get to use, and wondering how to tell each monastery apart since there are so many rocks, so many monasteries.

You may not miss the ambient heat of the outdoor lunches here, but you will miss the ethereal sunset colors unraveling over the landscapes of Meteora.

You’re going to miss returning back south to Athens to work out the logistics of rental car, airport, left luggage, marina, different lodgings…so many moving parts. And while you definitely won’t miss the screaming man outside his Airbnb in his sad tragedy of something lost in translation, you will miss how friends still rallied to find another solution within minutes. You’ll then miss tanning at the nearby beach club, the last minute toy-store and supplies run, a Walmart-version of “all you can eat” seafood, washing it down with shisha nearby, and then probably the best sleep you’ll get all week before the reckoning.

You’re going to miss waking up on your own to a beautiful morning overlooking the Aegean, feeling as if you booked the whole surf to yourself as the rest of the hive flew in to join you at the beach club, the old and familiar reunions, and the excitement of stepping onboard luxury catamarans that declare themselves to be your new homes for the week.

You’re going to miss ordering supplies and dinner to your yachts and the first night together afterwards, strolling in as the biggest group of the biggest group of the beach club, partying and parting ways with whatever you thought you knew as “fun” back home, dancing on top of whatever surface you could find and realizing your friends can dance too, the hugs all around with the excitement you finally found your tribe on water.

You’re going to miss waking up to your first home-cooked breakfast served to you by the endless water of the Mediterranean, before jumping into limitless abandon of the Saronic Sea. You’ll miss super soaking soju, floating on floaties, and just feeling like a badass listening to Bad Bunny while on your luxury yacht. You’ll then miss reuniting with the rest of the fleet for the tunnel raft where instead of being on your phone you’d rather just stay in the water instead. While you may not miss the frustration in technology and linking up multiple Soundboks while half-sober, you will miss turning those floating dance floors into your very own wrestling mats because you just have to address unmet childhood needs by playing King of the Castle again. You’ll miss knowing the closest thing those dance floors could be were mosh pits when we’d get involved, but luckily dusk always distracts so you’ll miss wading out into the open water to witness a real Greek island sunset before returning for a home-cooked dinner on the water. You’ll miss the introductions to people on the other yachts, the late night conversations under shooting stars, and determining whether certain narratives would begin to align tonight.

You’re going to miss sailing onto a delightful port island, and continuing to sail around it on your ATV rentals, taking impromptu hikes to secluded beaches, partying afterwards on another, winning the limbo contest, spraying up a champagne fountain while downing tequila cocktails, returning to your old beer pong habits by showing off a clutch double crossover to end the game, the sunset sail back, walking the pier at dusk to your group family dinner, and then dancing all night on top of the barrels at Malibu before holding hands and each other on your way back to your yachts.

You’re going to miss waking up the next morning for a late morning sail over deep conversations before putting your spirit animal costumes on for a rockside runway contest, dancing your heart out hoping to keep the crown, knowing that you’ve already won when you look around how every. single. monsooner. brought a black swimsuit for the ultimate group photo impressing even the staff who had thought they had seen it all, and then boarding for our private beach BBQ across the bay. While you may not miss being yelled at by another yacht for participating in a cookout underneath the backdrop of a nearby wildfire, you definitely won’t miss the other wildfire raging in your brain as you suddenly lose the appetite for food, sobriety, reality, and untimely conversations (although you might still miss that pet rock or two you thought you were getting attached to). You’ll miss the reprieve in head and back massages — simultaneously even — and being looked out for no matter how much you feel you could be losing control.

You’re going to miss waking up to another beautiful island port town, lazy vibes for a lazy morning as you kick back with even the DJ finding a place to park, enjoying a free morning to yourselves, and then it’s off for a group yoga session together to flush out the poison while looking over blue and white and then changing into blue and white for the signature party of the week without knowing day parties could be so much fun. While you’ll also miss the endless hugs of gratitude, bringing the house down with Jerusalema or the Macarena, and the marathon conversations and massages outside, you’ll definitely miss the climax of Sun is Shining when we valiantly rose from the floor to the roof while another sun bowed outside to kiss the water. Then as Coldplay’s “Yellow” began, you can’t believe they could let a party like this end so soon. While we won’t miss the afterparty at Millennium as much, we will miss looking around that night knowing we just had shared a special afternoon.

You’re going to miss waking up to a debate whether to still go to Hydra, but you go anyway, playing wake up music that the shuttle boat should have played before stumbling upon a unique Greek island that you didn’t know you had signed up for but glad you did. You’ll miss reorienting yourself by walking up and down narrow hillside alleyways built in a time before cars, jumping into the sea from a beach bar platform, cliff diving from another, alternating freddos and espressos, and fittingly for the island’s namesake you’ll either miss the attempts to untangle the multiple tentacular narratives that has been offered to explain the past week, or simply kicking back eating those very same tentacles for lunch as you look into the infinite knowing that none of this matters in the long run anyway.

You may not miss the confusion of the boat rides back from Hydra and trying to figure out how to pay them off fairly, but business is business, and so is getting down to business of the last night when you change into your most shimmering outfits for Siren’s Call. You’ll miss the final group photos during golden hour, rescuing one another from themselves as the night is still young and can’t afford having anyone calling it too early, the joy of your boat name winning Regatta and Rockside Runway a second time in a row, dancing while wearing every accessory you can put on, and watching as the night unraveled into oblivion. You’ll then miss jumping from yacht to yacht on our line raft as if we were leaping over Olympic hurdles to make it back to Malibu, with leftover bottles in hand without a care in the world to make one more party to end all parties.

You won’t miss the festivities cut short because of an irritable water taxi that couldn’t wait any longer, but you will miss spicy ramen, and staying up to watch the sunrise one last time together from a yacht. Catching feelings is hard, but if you’re not yet an emotional train wreck at this point, you still need to get it together because you’ll gonna miss the sad steady sail back to Alimos back across bumpy shipping lanes as if you were tumbling through wormholes into another reality. You may not miss the cheesy music goodbye, the farewell hugs, the crazy dash to airports and city hotels, but you will miss a real bed under 20 foot ceilings, your first long warm shower without time limits, and getting to have another chance at conversation with the rest of your group over rooftop dinners and drinks while being looked after by the Parthenon. And you’ll miss the figurative last dance, from trying to finish the last of your bottles (unsuccessfully) in your hotel room to trying to finish your brunch (unsuccessfully) before another and last goodbye becomes one final lingering afterthought when alleys of Athens melt into a highway home or to another island that generations have called home.

You’re going to miss the sobering wake up call to suddenly be surrounded by so few people for the first time in a week, the success of navigating through foreign languages to rent a car facing a sunset for a trip now in the rear-view mirror. You’ll miss ending this month with how you began it: the backpacks that saunter down sonder and memory, roses and cobblestones framed by Greek towns older than millennia.

You’re going to miss the morning reunion and lazy sleeping into the afternoon, starting your day late because you deserve the sleep, and whether it’s jet lag or yacht lag, it will be a beautiful late breakfast (do they still call it brunch here?) and running into a monsooner from 7 years ago of all places and times. You’ll then miss the stroll around a tiny old city, using the heat wave that has dogged you all week as an excuse for more gelato or to visit a Starbucks, the off the beaten path detour to visit a war memorial you wouldn’t usually think about visiting, al fresco dinner under fort walls at sunset, getting to walk off the dinner back home, and the joy in innocence of sleeping in early.

You’re going to miss the quick road trip to a destination Greek city that beats to the rhythm of the coast, eating the meatiest freshly steamed fish, running into friends on a monsoon a third time in a row without expecting it (now you’re getting suspicious), and then meeting even more friends at your last stop of the day who changed their plans just to meet again. You’ll miss the sunset city tour by melting into the crowds of a hot summer night, the drinks, hookah and morning after brunch to feel like a local, perplexed to feel how a legendary palace home to numerous Greek myths would feel so normal and relatively unheard of, the subsequent museum that helps to give some backstory to the palace, the dicey walks back and forth to your AirBnB on the hill, the unexpected and heavenly olive oil feast that could shower the whole world in liquid gold, taking a wrong turn to find the right sunset, and the impromptu dessert by having a second dinner in food court cafes before sleeping in for one final day together in a paradise sauna.

You’re going to miss the last road trip around the island, crowding into a passenger ferry that makes it feel like a scene out of Dunkirk, the sweaty hike circumnavigating and then up to the ruins of a leper commit at the summit without caring for the sun that tries to beat you back down, the lunch by the seaside with natural air conditioning, gazing over the Libyan Sea with a gelato in your hand, the detour back through the mountains for a final drive together home and the subsequent sunrise goodbye at the airport, dropping off the car, and moving onto the last detour’dventure.

You’re going to miss seeing a sunrise on the runway, the airport gate goodbyes and flying into one of the biggest music festivals in the world where it’s not just a new country you’re arriving to but a concept, one the dares you to live beyond the realities you’ve been accustomed to at home. You’re going to miss missing the people with whom you had spent the past month across more than 15 cities and 7 islands but that will be tempered where some of those very people will once again change their plans to rejoin you so you won’t miss them as hard anymore. But alas you’re going to miss the month of never-ending friendships new and old. A month of encountering run-ins, serendipities, and small world moments. You’ll miss the month of enjoying both the cardinal and the weird. A month of laughing, dancing, and exploring with eyes and hearts wide open. You’ll miss the month of constant turning corners to find new things to stimulate your childlike wandering hearts of wonder, before the denouement when your inner Kerouac imbues you with the madness built up over a month, encapsulating itself into a single moment with roman candles that burn burn burn in the sky like spiders exploding across the stars.

And therefore you will long for most of all, the memories of youth that you will miss amidst the mist of passing joyous storm and thunder; the type of shared dance you will remember better than entire years…

… a month long dance you will never have again.

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Tomorrowland

Calvin Sun — Mon, 31 Jul 2023 15:02:29 +0000

What can I say that hasn’t already written about one of the world’s largest and certainly premier music festivals? Tomorrowland is no joke and must be seen to be believed. We leave having felt like we visited a true Disney World for all adult electronic music lovers with over 15 stages, 600 artists, and world-class infrastructure that can comfortably accommodate over 600,000 attendees without sacrificing any attention to detail all the way down to the quality of their toilets.

Our weekend with Tomorrowland was experiencing a master class in event planning and we were lucky enough to acquire 2 tickets via their Global Journey packages 6 months ago. Since I had already made plans to be in Greece for Yacht Week, having Tomorrowland arrange flights from ATH to BRU via Global Journey was a convenient money-saving way to get in a festival that otherwise had their regular tickets sell out within 11 minutes of going online.

So from Crete, Mel and I took an early morning flight from HER airport in Heraklion at 8:32am, arriving into Athens an hour later. There I picked up my bag left behind at left luggage in arrivals where I redistributed my belongings and then hung out at a cafe before checking into our Brussels Airlines flight from ATH to BRU at 3pm in the afternoon.

Once arriving at Brussels airport, we immediately saw Tomorrowland’s presence having taken over arrivals:

With multiple booths welcoming us at Baggage Claims, we walked over to the Athens section to pick up our bracelet that designated which hotel you signed up for, a welcome envelope and letter.

After retrieving our checked bags, we headed downstairs where numerous Tomorrowland staff directed us where to go, all while dancing to music and waving flags welcoming us to Belgium.

From airport arrivals we boarded a dedicated Tomorrowland bus right outside that took us 5 minutes away to a midway sorting station, which they continued with background dance music and staff members having a good time getting the crowd pumped up. We then picked up our tote bag (that included a water bottle, newspaper about Tomorrowland, and a jenga set) and followed directions to another bus that dropped us off at our assigned hotel by the airport. This all can get exhausting if you have a lot of bags with you.

After an hour settling in at Pentahotel Brussels Airport, we took an Uber from our hotel into Brussels where Tomorrowland was hosting a pre-party called Invited Brussels at the Gare Maritime Food Market venue. Numerous Tomorrowland-themed food stalls filled the back where no cash is accepted; you first have to buy tokens with cash or a credit card at a dedicated stall and then exchange tokens for food.

A DJ with a crowd semi-dancing (or swaying) played hype music in the front to get the crowd going.

At midnight they wrapped up on the dot and we returned home to sleep in. Even with 8-9 hours of sleep in our system, this still left us plenty of time to enjoy an included breakfast at the hotel before boarding our noon shuttle bus to Boom, Belgium.

Our bus ride from the airport hotel took about 30 minutes into Boom, where we greeted by locals that seemed supportive of the 400,000 people from around the world who descend onto their tiny hamlet every year:

It’s about a 15 minute walk from Boom down to a first tent that check your bags for any drinks (no outside drinks allowed), then another tent with metal detectors, before a final tent where you get another bag check and scan your wristband in to enter the festival. Lockers are immediately ahead where I’d recommend you should book for your time at Tomorrowland.

After settling in with our locker rentals and leaving behind our larger items, we walked another 10 minutes downhill (there’s a separate path down the stairs that’s a little faster) to finally reach Tomorrowland’s base for non-Dreamville attendees:

After getting a lay of the land with their merchandise store (selling t-shirts, caps, tote bags, and sweatshirts), equipment stands (which sells sunglasses, vape pens, bracelets), phone charger rentals, and picking up maps from the information booth, you can get a sense of the size of the festival at the Brussel Airlines’ sponsored Ferris Wheel in the back:

The Ferris Wheel is located right next to the Dreamcatcher food court and toilets . . .

. . . but our favorite spots for food and relaxation would be the Mesa Garden, featuring vegan, oysters, Asian, and even food by one of the world’s top chefs Gaggan Anand.

To purchase food you first have to obtain Tomorrowland’s currency known as pearls. And to get pearls, you have to top up your bracelet (which also doubles as your entry ticket) either online or in person at the festival. We recommend doing it online before the festival because pearls will be automatically refunded back to your credit card after the festival is over, whereas topping up in person at the festival requires a manual form and longer process to get a refund afterwards.

If you want a more of a sit-down restaurant experience, Tomorrowland has that too at Brasa. You scan your bracelet in for about 20 pearls per person (approximately €44) and you enjoy a set menu of fish, meat, or vegetarian with shared plates of a baked potato with cheese, cabbage steeped in butter sauce, a stuffed taco, and an included vodka-based cranberry cocktail. You then can leave anytime to pick up a gold-dusted cake pop as dessert on your way out.

A better dessert option would be celebrity chef Roger Van Damme’s Sweet Dreams stand featuring a candied Belgian waffle with ice cream, chocolate crisp, among other ingredients that made this dish really really sublime:

Then we head to the music: 15 stages featuring over 600 DJs and artists define Tomorrowland, so I won’t list them all out here as there’s no point in trying to visit them all in one day. Instead we recommend just going with the flow and following wherever the right music takes you. The ones that stood out to me the most of the 19 are:

Elixir, featuring mainly remixed pop, hip hop, and Top 40s:

Rose Garden, featuring a mechanized dragon overlooking a diverse curation of dance music. One of my favorites, Third Party, performed here:

Rise which also featured dance and Top 40s:

Freedom, featuring rave music with intense visuals for artists such as Eric Prydz:

Atmosphere, featuring hard techno:

Cage featured modern techno, rave and industrial hardcore DJs:

Rave Cave, which true to its name, is a tiny venue and home for ravers nostalgic for the original vibe of outdoor partying:

Youphoria, home to people who like to stare at whatever they’re on, and DJ Diesel aka Shaq:

One of my favorites, Core, which is off on its own in the forest after an extended walkway, featuring percussive dance and progressive beats:

The Library, which holds its own as a main stage contender and therefore is seen as the “second stage” to the main one featuring future house, big room, and hardstyle artists like Afrojack, Dmitry Vegas & Like Mike, and Paris Hilton.

Crystal Garden feels to me like the “third stage” with eclectic artists such as Andrew Bayer, Meduza, etc.:

And finally the Main Stage, which changes every year and goes all out with the lighting and pyrotechnics:

How did they even get the moon to be a part of their show?!

Photos speak for themselves for the main stage:

And the best part of Tomorrowland were all the people who came, whether the ones you came with or the ones you’d run into:

“Excuse me, do you know which way to the main stage … wait, are you Calvin Sun?”

“Yes I am! What’s your name? And how did you know my name?”

“I’m Susie! We never met; I’m from Vancouver but I follow you on Instagram and I had emailed you back in January about joining for your Yacht Week trip in Greece!”

“That’s so crazy…that trip was just last week! Wish you had joined us. And what a small world. What’s your Instagram handle?” [Gives Instagram handle] “…how do you know Paul Woo? You follow him on Instagram too!”

“I just met Paul yesterday in Paris at a hostel!”

“What?! He was just on our Yacht Week trip in Greece last week as well! Yes, the one you almost signed up for!” [shows photos of Paul with us in Greece] “He left us early to head to Paris to shoot for a wedding, which is how you met him just last night!”

“OMG. That’s crazy!!!”

“And he’s joining us for Tomorrowland tomorrow!”

“What?!”

[I text Paul a photo of me and Susie; his response: “I was going to keep it as a surprise, so that’s crazy you just ran into her on your own anyway at Tomorrowland!”]

[while waiting in line for CORE] “Can we take a photo?”

“OMG Jackie!” (she traveled with us back in 2014 to Haiti & the DR!) —

On our last day, Paul and Sujay joins us! (while Ann and Raubern being already there makes it a South Korean reunion):

Then we run into Kunal, making it also a true Yacht Week Greece reunion:

And how the night ended:

After the show wraps every night at 1am (midnight on the last day so people can make it to their first flights out), Tomorrowland makes the departing non-Dreamville crowd walk up to 40 minutes to the shuttle buses taking everyone to their respective lodgings.

This is done on purpose to stretch out the crowd walking at their own paces so that it never gets bunched up into a crush. They nevertheless make up for the long march with providing entertainment (such as firedancers, interpretive dancers, jugglers, etc.) along the path.

And before you know it, you’re being woken up to remind you that Tomorrowland has booked your shuttles for the flights out and they don’t want you to miss your ride home:

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- At time of posting in Boom, Belgium, it was 17 °C - Humidity: 85% | Wind Speed: 16km/hr | Cloud Cover: cloudy, rain makes everything better anyway

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How Do You Measure A Ier-apetra? How About Love?

Calvin Sun — Thu, 27 Jul 2023 03:59:17 +0000

Continuing on our road trip through Eastern Crete, we drove from Plaka and passed through Elounda for its quaint village.

We then reached the coastal city of Agios Nikola after 45 minutes of driving and enjoyed a very humid but well deserved lunch here.

After another 45 minute’s drive, we reached the southern coastal city of Ierapetra, and “the bride of the Libyan sea.”

After quickly getting some more ice cream and sorbet the group decided to eschew onward driving to Sitia and instead return back to Heraklion for a very heartwarming group dinner with Jay and Henry before our early flight out to end our trip in Greece.

- At time of posting in Ierapetra, it was 23 °C - Humidity: 52% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: my ice cream melted

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Growing a Spin-alonga

Calvin Sun — Thu, 27 Jul 2023 03:29:10 +0000

On our last full day in Crete (and Greece!) we set out early for a one hour drive towards Agios Nikolaos from Heraklion.

Driving past the nightlife town of Malia, we arrived at Plaka’s marina by 11am. Roundtrip ferries from Plaka costs €12 per person.

Once we paid for the tickets, we took a bathroom break and grabbed water at one of the numerous tavernas surrounding the marina before boarding.

Ferries to Spinalonga Island runs approximately every half an hour and takes 10 minutes to get there from Plaka:

Both Plaka and Spinalonga island play the backdrop for numerous works of art in contemporary media including the bestselling fiction novel “The Island,” by Victoria Hislop.

And as the novel would suggest, the much romanticized Spinalonga (or Kalidon) has captivated the dreams and imaginations of countless artists, musicians and authors throughout its long history.

It has remained one of the most visited tourist attractions on Crete, where over 30,000 visitors like us seek to walk along the narrow streets through the village on Spinalonga every year.

Although the official name is Kalidon, the former Veneitian name of Spinalonga has been so well known that all the sign posts and the ferries that take you to the the island will call it only by its Venetian name.

Now uninhabited, the island was once a fortress was built in 1579 by the Eloundians where later many Christians from the surrounding village took refuge from the Saracens that overtook Crete. It had seemed impenetrable until the Turkish captain Kapoudan Pasha captured it in the 1715.

Many Turks then came here as a safe haven during the 1821 Revolution and it became the main trade port for the entire region of Mirabello during the 19th century.

Then Cretan rebels besieged it during the revolutions of 1821, 1866 and 1897 until in 1904, the State of Crete turned Spinalonga into a leper colony. And for the next half a century, society’s outcasts came here to live out the end of their lives in paradise.

Signs of the former leper colony is most apparent in the disinfection kilin they left behind here:

When a cure for leprosy finally came around, the island hospital was dissolved in 1957 and has since remained both a tourist attraction and an archaeological site for what remains of the Venetian art of island fortification and fortress-building in the Eastern Mediterranean.

Despite the 100ºF scorcher and both ferry and island staff announcing an early closure to the public at 1:30pm due to the heat wave, Mel and I climbed up to the top of the fortress anyway, which I don’t recommend unless you’re pretty agile and fit in navigating the unmarked paths up to the top.

We felt like we were the only ones who made it as the heat was so unbearable, most returned back to the port after less than an hour’s walk around the island (it takes only 20-30 minutes to walk the entire circumference):

But the views from here made me forget only for a second how hot it has been all week:

There’s also an opportunity to take a dip in the waters from Spinalonga, by a small pier past the main harbor:

After almost 2 hours walking around and up Spinalonga, we scrambled on the last ferries back to Plaka and continued on our road trip through Eastern Crete.

- At time of posting in Spinalonga, it was 32 °C - Humidity: 57% | Wind Speed: 27km/hr | Cloud Cover: a circle of Hades

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Heraklion Efforts

Calvin Sun — Tue, 25 Jul 2023 20:17:05 +0000

After a lunch and afternoon in Rethymno, we reunited with Sujay and Kelly who had done some of their own exploring of the Greek islands before coming to Heraklion to visit the rest of Crete.

After settling into our lodgings at a second floor apartment called Venezian View, we began our walking tour at the southwest corner of the old city at St. Minas Cathedral:

Inside is a collection of impressive reliefs:

Walking northeast, we approached Morosini Fountain from the 1600s.

St. Mark’s Basilica faces the fountain.

There’s a free art gallery inside:

The Venetian Loggia, an opulent City Hall structure built back in the Venetian period boasting a beautiful atrium and hall for events, is right next door:

Then we walked up to the Church of Agios Titos, a 19th century mosque turned church.

Approaching the port to the north, we walked around the Dominican church of Saint Peter Monastery.

From the monastery we then weaved along the coast of the Venetian Port of Heraklion. The restored 16th century Koules or the Rocca a Mare Fortress is a Venetian castle located on the isthmus/peninsula past the port with splendid views of the Gulf of Heraklion:

We then turned back south where you can take a scenic walk on the elevated Venetian Walls of Heraklion built in the 1400s:

The next day after an earlier breakfast at Frankly’s Café we also reunited with Jay who at the last minute decided to rejoin us from our Yacht Week trip last week for Crete. From breakfast we then took our car south for a visit to Knossos Palace:

Rebuilt on the site of the most important and best known Minoan palace complex in Crete, the palace is located some about 5km south of Heraklion.

According to tradition, this site was the seat of the legendary Cretan king Minos aka where the Labyrinth and the Minotaur was possibly located as well as the story of Icarus.

This site has been continuously inhabited from the Neolithic period (7000-3000 B.C.) until Roman times.

After an hour baking under the sun, we returned back to our car and shelled $7 extra to include a visit to the Archaelogical Museum of Heraklion back in the city and near our lodgings.

Afterwards we headed back for what we thought was a free afternoon, but ended up with a self-imposed mandatory request to visit an olive oil farm about a 20 minutes’ drive south from us at Kleanthi. For €10 they showed us around their grounds including olive trees ranging anywhere from a couple hundred to 3000 years old.

We then were shown inside where they wash, press, and extract the oil from all the olives.

After half an hour of the tour, we were then taken to their olive oil tasting, a kind of grand finale that taught us you can put olive oil on not just bread but anything: fruit, yogurt, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, you name it.

If they grow it, you can eat it.

We were so happy from the unexpected dinner we were wanted to leave a little bit of us behind on their wall:

And just as we were pulling away from the farm, we took a wrong turn that felt like a right one: catching this unbelievable Cretan sunset just in time.

- At time of posting in Heraklion, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 52% | Wind Speed: 8km/hr | Cloud Cover: temperate hot, but that's a relative statement

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Dance to the Rethymno of the Night

Calvin Sun — Mon, 24 Jul 2023 18:51:20 +0000

On our 3rd day in Crete, we packed up our things and drove out east to Rethymno, a charming resort city between Chania and Heraklion.

Like many other cities on Crete, Rethymno was founded by the Minoans and was then occupied by the Romans, the Venetians and the Ottoman Empires. And just as it was back then, Rethymno’s Venetian harbor remains filled with fishing boats and lined with tavernas featuring a lighthouse built in the 1830s.

We decided to dine at Achinos for lunch where I was lucky to experience some of the best cooked fish of my life.

“Best cooked fish of my life?” So many contenders on my travels has rendered such claims questionable. So at this point what I really meant to say it was the “best” fish through the lens of an unplanned lunch where the meat of the fish was unexpectedly cooked and steamed so well I felt like I was eating a rare steak.

It was that good. I’d say it’s up there for sure.

What a surprise.

During lunch and for the third time (and making it our second serendipity in Crete!), Suhrid and Pooja once again crashed unexpectedly in the middle of a monsoon. The last time we saw them do this was when we took a pandemic road trip across the USA and running into them in Montana.

Good to see you and glad you could join us again Suhrid and Pooja!

After lunch we wandered around Rethymno’s old town some more, hunting for ice cream.

Then by 6pm we returned back to our cars and headed onwards east to Heraklion where Sujay and Kelly would be waiting for us.

- At time of posting in Rethymno, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 54% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and humid

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En-Chania-ted

Calvin Sun — Mon, 24 Jul 2023 03:20:54 +0000

This morning I wake up after a week of raging on the sea with The Yacht Week with 40+ other monsooners.

Our biggest monsoon ever now sadly behind us.

I want to cry. And I want to rest.

And with my first every music festival experience at Tomorrowland — the world’s largest — in less than a week away, I need to take a break. After a very emotional brunch with Gina, Jenny, Michelle, Gina, Christina, Jay, Sujay, Kunal, Evan, Amelia, and Sidian and a 5:15pm afternoon flight from Athens to Chania, those of us leftover – Amelia, myself, Henry, and meeting up with Gul at the gate, landed in Greece’s largest island of Crete.

After landing, we got our car rental at Royal outside arrivals and drove first past the Venizelos Graves for a hilltop view over Chania for sunset.

After almost getting stuck in the tiny driveways around a mound outside the old city, Henry’s past life as an LA courier driver stepped in to save the day and re-parked our car about a 5 minute walk away from the old city. The 4 of us then walked to our lodgings in central Chania at 11City Hotel.

After a prolonged check-in process with a sweet old man who loved to talk, we enjoyed a late dinner under the vines at To Naxi.

The next morning Mel landed at an ungodly 4:55am from ATH and luckily I had already been awake to let her in to catch up on her sleep. And by nap I mean a proper sleep in that had all 5 of us waking up by 1pm and having breakfast next door at Phyllos by 2pm.

And just as we were about to chow down, Rucha from my 2017 Balkans trip happened to be standing only 20 feet away with her newly married husband. She recognized me!

After recovering from this serendipity and after paying for breakfast we then set out for an afternoon walking tour of Chania with the Etz Hayyim Synagogue next door. Although desecrated since the destruction of the Jewish community by the Nazis in 1944, this synagogue has remained the only Jewish monument in Crete for over 50 years and sadly represents the success of the Nazis in having ended 2300 years of Jewish life on Crete.

The structure was restored in 1999 after 3 years of work, taking it off of the World Monument Fund’s list of most endangered sites.

Next we strolled north to the Maritime Museum of Crete for its 9am opening and vivid depiction of maritime Crete from the Bronze Age to the present.

We returned the next day when it opened at 9am to see the harbor from its elevated perch:

A grand display of model ships amidst a mostly World War 2 narrative comprises the inside of the museum for €4 per person.

From the museum we walked along the Old Venetian Port of Chania. It’s a leisurely 20 minute walk to the Lighthouse of Chania.

Walking around the inner old city, we passed by old Minoan ruins.

We then headed back south to where our hotel was, stopping at Splantzia Square

St. Nikolas’ church is right behind it; originally built for the Dominican Order the church was then turned into a mosque during the Ottoman occupation before reconverted to its present designation as an Orthodox church.

From the square we walked south to Old Chania Market, currently under renovations. Built in 1913 as fish, meat, and vegetable market for the city, it officially opened to the public 3 days after the island of Crete united with Greece.

During World War II, most of the marketplace grounds were used as a storage space for the occupying Nazi army.

From the market we walked back up north to Chania Cathedral Trimartiti. The Cathedral was built in 1860 during the Ottoman rule of the island where there once was a Byzantine Church-turned-soap factory after Ottoman Turks sacked Chania in1645.

There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it entrance to the Our Lady Catholic church that hides within. It faces the cathedral on Chalidon Street.

The church was built in 1879 on the grounds of a Capuccin monastery and monk-run hospital that had existed since 1566.

If you have extra time like we did, we then drove 25 minutes west to the village of Malame where a German Soldier Cemetery lies on Kaukales Hill:

This also marks site of the first airborne invasion in the history of mankind: The Battle of Crete.

This site is considered to be one of the proudest moments in Greek history as the Nazis took the same amount of time to conquer the Netherlands, Belgium and central and northern France as it took them to conquer Crete.

Therefore Greeks implore not to see this site as a Nazi war memorial but a sign of Cretan valor and an act of reconciliation between the Germans and Greeks after the Second World War.

It is also known to be where Kyria Eleni, an old woman dressed in black, is seen to light candles for the dead soldiers. If you ask her why, she will tell you that she hopes that a German daughter would be doing the same for her father who had been murdered in a concentration camp.

We then drove back to Chania old town for dinner at Chrisostomos, which came at the recommendation of our hotel, and turned in earlier to reset our clocks.

- At time of posting in Chania, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 52% | Wind Speed: n/a | Cloud Cover: steamy and wet heat

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The Yacht Week Greece Day 6 – Staying Hydra-ted Until the End

Calvin Sun — Fri, 21 Jul 2023 03:24:31 +0000

Once again and for the very last time this weekend, most of us skipped the morning workout (today was a sunrise run) before being woken up to board a water taxi at the last minute.

With all the partying the past week we had forgotten that we signed up for an optional day trip to the photogenic island of Hydra.

A picturesque port with no cars allowed, this is the cobblestone “Venice” of Greece. You can spend hours here roaming the portside for shopping and people-watching, hosting a summit with lovers and friends, wandering the back alleys, petting donkeys, and climbing up for views of the sea from cliffside:

After a bit of shopping and helping out Umbi with getting 2 dresses for his partner, I jumped into the cold waters with Amelia for a swim by the rockside beach bar of Spilia:

Our lunch afterwards at the Greek fusion restaurant Techne was some of the best food of the trip:

After about 6 hours wandering Hydra, we jumped back into our pre-arranged water taxis at around a whopping unexpected €35 per person. We’d find out along the way that the up-charge was for them to ferry us specifically back to our makeshift raft of yachts that had already set sail back to Poros ahead of time.

Once back on our rafted fleet, we were given about 2 hours to swim before getting dressed for our final party theme: Sirens Call!

As the sun began to set and our last golden hour together flooded the air, we boarded water taxis to take us to the venue at SEEN Beach Club.

This was the night to let it all out and shoot your shot…and to find out you’re a 2x TYW Regatta Winner!

After dinner and a first round of partying at SEEN, we hopped on a private water taxi just after midnight. What followed was a chaotic couple of minutes, as we scrambled to jump from raft to raft and yacht to yacht, all while half-laughing and half-panicking. The goal? Drop off some clothes, grab our leftover booze, and make it back onto the water taxi before it circled back around. Somehow, no one fell between the yachts or into the water—a small miracle given our sleep-deprived, not-so-athletic state after a full week of partying.

With bottles in hand and adrenaline kicking in, we made it back to Malibu for one final after-after party. The night was already becoming the stuff of legend, adding to Cavo Bianco’s reputation as an unforgettable experience. We wandered shirtless along the marina, holding unopened bottles, before ditching them to rejoin the dance floor. By 3 a.m., the TYW staff insisted the water taxi couldn’t wait any longer, forcing us to call it a night. But by 4 a.m., a handful of us still awake found ourselves huddled over bowls of spicy ramen, cooked up by Taejin and Victor. It felt like a perfect ending—messy, warm, and tinged with the realization that goodbyes were looming.

The next morning was a slower, quieter affair. We squeezed in a last swim and breakfast, though only Jay and one other brave soul seemed motivated enough to join. By 2 p.m., we were back at Alimos port, exchanging tearful goodbyes and reflecting on the whirlwind week behind us. There was an unshakable feeling that this trip had left its mark on all of us in ways we wouldn’t fully understand for a while.

For those of us staying an extra day, the adventure carried on. We headed to Athens together and checked into a fancy penthouse near the Parthenon, already talking about what might come next. The story wasn’t quite over yet.

Thanks to Sidian’s suggestion, we then enjoyed one last dinner at Savvas rooftop for the 25 of us remaining.

Afterwards for sunset, we reconvened for drinks at Gina’s favorite rooftop bar at 360:

Weighed down by both the entire past week and the heat, however, we eschewed the rooftop penthouse jacuzzi for an air-conditioned wholesome winding down back at our apartments.

An attempt to watch our videos from the past week felt so emotionally taxing we called it a night soon afterwards.

- At time of posting in Hydra, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 47% | Wind Speed: 11km/hr | Cloud Cover: heat waves after waves

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The Yacht Week Greece Day 5 – M-“Ermioni” Mo’ Problems

Calvin Sun — Thu, 20 Jul 2023 03:55:36 +0000

This morning as most again once slept through the morning’s activities including a swim and guided meditation, Megan finally prepared for us her legendary bagels.

At 8am we then raised our anchors and set sail for Ermioni. While along the way we tried to find a calm enough spot to build The Yacht Week’s circle raft, we were let down once again; just like what happened for us in the French Polynesia, the winds proved too strong and we instead chose to dock earlier on land.

Nature wins again. Our sorrows were therefore drowned out by Megan’s handmade bagels.

Lazying around the docks of Ermioni with far more extra time than expected, we then agreed to an opportunity for a free yoga session at a studio overlooking the port of Ermioni at 2:30pm.

After an hour of yoga that felt more like a workout class (there were reps!), we returned to change for our day party for the Café del Poseidon theme at Cavo Bianco.

Our party was so large we ended up saving money by ordering their largest bottle: a 6 liter tank of Belvedere vodka for €1200 split among 47 of us.

This is also arguably TYW’s best party by general consensus among both guests and staff, and many of us made the most of it with more than just the 6L of Belvedere.. let’s just say at one point something compelled everyone to come by for a hug (and I had thought everyone just loved how we led Jerusalema on the dance floor…).

After 5 hours of rolling into sunset with nonstop music and dancing, we then reconvened back at our boats on the marina to feast over gyros and kebabs our skipper Orlagh and Megan had picked up for us.

There we debated back and forth how many times we wanted to drop by Millennium Bar across the street for a party that wouldn’t seem as much fun as Cavo Bianco. The result was that most of us gave into popping by Millennium an average of 2 times before saying our first goodbyes to Paul and Jeff (who had onward travel they couldn’t postpone) and retiring to bed.

- At time of posting in Ermioni, it was 28 °C - Humidity: 60% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: still hot. hasn't changed

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The Yacht Week Greece Day 4 – Dokos Chasin’ Waterfalls

Calvin Sun — Wed, 19 Jul 2023 03:55:22 +0000

Is that an iceberg right ahead? No, it’s a monsoon.

After partying far too late last night at Malibu, many of us had struggled to get up this morning in time for Regatta. However, rumor has it that a select few were still brave enough to make it for a 9am HIIT class.

Luckily for us this time, however, The Yacht Week tradition of a sailing regatta now has changed into a stationary “Rockside Runway.” This meant more time to prepare for our outfits after our sail instead of during. Therefore we enjoyed the 1 hour wind-powered sail to Dokos, population: 18 (although now arguably 1 since a recent informal census suggests there’s only an old lady and her goats there).

As a person who never could figure out Halloween, I was surprised to find myself so motivated to go all out for the theme of our boat Jobu Tupaki’s Everything Bagel from Everything Everywhere All at Once.

I’m also thankful that my boat, also appropriately named Megan’s Bagels, didn’t question my judgment and followed along:

Not to leave the others out, Jin Ramen’s yacht attempted the Baywatch Babes theme, The White Lotus’ yacht attempted the toga theme, And Physical: 100’s yacht attempted the 7 Deadly Sins. They did their best as the event staff on their dinghy went up and down each yacht to judge our vibe.

After 20 minutes of dancing, we then were given the go-ahead to finally change out of our outfits, which we used as an opportunity to take a quick swim and change into our black swimsuits for our traditional badass monsoon photo:

This is a squad. This is an iceberg right ahead.

But not always so serious:

Just as this moment, the crew staff returned just in time to make this video possible:

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We then rested up for another hour before jumping onto our dinghies for a private beach BBQ.

A sunset beach BBQ away from the rest of the fleet: I was told this was the first time TYW has ever done this for a group!

Some of us who were on the less intoxicated side of the spectrum climbed up for these views of our private party

After 2 hours enjoying our own private cookout where I took Paul’s advice for the first time on certain vegetables, we returned back to the raft for card games and staring up at the stars.

- At time of posting in Dokos, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 58% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: hot hot hot

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The Yacht Week Greece Day 3 – Our Poros Thirst

Calvin Sun — Tue, 18 Jul 2023 03:55:04 +0000

After more than 24 hours on sea, we returned to land and docked on the island of Poros at 9am in the morning.

We then enjoyed a free morning including walks along Poros’ scenic waterfront eating pita gyros and spanakopita, refreshing ourselves with an ice cold frappés and freddos, and riding on our choice of ATVs, scooters, or electric bikes.

With an ATV costing €45 per ATV fitting up to 2 folks each, we were given two and a half hours to explore the island of Poros (it only takes an hour to see the whole island).

We saw a monastery from the outside that wouldn’t let us in because of what we were (not) wearing…

… and the archaeological remains of the Poseidon Sanctuary:

We took our time at the top:

…and recalled that 4 of us also had rode ATVs and buggies together 15 months ago in Bora Bora!

With plenty of time left after a full roundtrip around the island, we drove back to fit in a small hike down to a secret cove for a swim:

At 11:30am we returned to our yachts and relaxed for the afternoon before a water taxi ride to Love Bay.

There we got a few bottles and played beer pong for an afternoon beach party, where our very own Lyla won the Yacht Week’s limbo contest!

I dare say I held my own and didn’t sit out limbo this time.

We then continued the day party for a few more hours.

…before returning to change for our night activities, which included this sunset as our backdrop

Instead of joining the others at Oasis, we instead got our own family home cooked meal at Apagio:

Partying late into the night while still on land, the group then moved on to Malibu for late night dancing on top of their infamous dance barrels. This is us looking a little more presentable beforehand.

- At time of posting in Poros, it was 34 °C - Humidity: 36% | Wind Speed: 21km/hr | Cloud Cover: still hot. it's called a heat wave

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The Yacht Week Greece Day 2 – Tunneling the Saronic Gulf

Calvin Sun — Mon, 17 Jul 2023 03:11:08 +0000

Setting sail for 3 hours the morning after our first party, we woke up to these breakfast spreads at 10am:

Admiring my 4 yacht tandem; we have enough for a tunnel raft of our own at this point!

After breakfast, we anchored for our first dip in Mediterranean blue.

After a few hours to ourselves, we then rejoined the rest of the yacht fleet to create two rows for “the tunnel raft,” where we could swim in the middle and meet other yachts next to us.

Thankfully our chefs reminded to eat lunch during the party:

In the middle of the tunnel raft were floating “dance floors” that we sometimes used instead as a floating beach…or a wrestling mat.

Gina and I took it very seriously:

Our friend DJ Alex EBS then made an appearance on The Kraken boat, taking over with his music and preventing any bad blood between our 4 Soundboks’ and the Colombian boat’s Soundboks.

As the sun began to set, we cooked dinner with our floating neighbors.

Boat hopping continued where gossip and conversations led to stargazing and looking for shooting stars.

- At time of posting in Saronic Gulf, it was 27 °C - Humidity: 73% | Wind Speed: 14km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny

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The Yacht Week Greece Day 1 – The Hostess with the Alimos-tess

Calvin Sun — Sat, 15 Jul 2023 23:46:50 +0000

2 days in Rhodes and then 2 days in Meteora, I think it’s time to say that we’re ready for the main reason why 40 of us are here. A trip 22 months in the making: The Yacht Week Greece.

Since Sidian had to leave early to catch an afternoon flight out to a wedding in Mykonos, we left Meteora insanely early at 5am back to Athens.

After Sidian dropped us off at the airport, I retrieved my bag at the Care4Bag storage facility at Arrivals and then took 2 Ubers to Alimos Marina where I re-stored my big bag at their facility for €5/item/day.

Then I walked everyone to the 3 separate AirBnB’s I booked for everyone who went with my advice to always stay the night before as close as you can to the marina before your first day of yacht week.

Melinda, Maggie, Roxanne, Vivian were supposed to stay at the “Sunny Apartment” but the owner saw our big group and immediately threw out Victor (who had arrived early) and locked the door on us, leaving us out to dry under 101ºF without even wanting to hear our explanation that not all of us were staying at his property and that we were only dropping off 4 people to stay at his place. What a weirdo. Within 10 minutes I immediately booked the last AirBnb remaining thanks to Victor and Jeff and got an even better apartment nearby anyway. I didn’t know that when I wrote in my orientation e-mail earlier that morning that “that trip frustration could be a detour” could get so real so quickly.

As Victor and Jeff moved over to the AirBnb, Randall and Phil got an entire 4 person apartment to themselves when they arrived later at midnight after missing their earlier flight (Thank goodness for Randall and Phil there was a later flight leaving at 8:55pm on Aegean from Bucharest).

Taejin and I shelled a little extra for the penthouse Sea View apartment right next to the marina which Roxanne got to take advantage of well when I had to move her from the Sunny Apartment from hell.

Settling in the afternoon and waiting for people to arrive in, I texted people where to meet as we unwinded at Cape Sol. I then got as many people as we could for dinner at To Nisi Fish Tavern. All-you-can-eat seafood for €15 per person!

After dinner, Taejin, Paul, Christina and I went out for drinks and hookah at Jafar Cafe before turning in at midnight.

The next morning after check out, we parked ourselves at the Bolivar Beach Club next to the marina for approximately €20 per person, which included sunchairs, umbrella shade, and attentive food and drink service all day.

Christina even brought me French macaroons from Paris!

As we waited for the rest of the group to fly in, we also helped some of the chefs with ordering provisions for the week. The great thing about Greece’s marinas was that we could order ahead on the Balaskas app and have the groceries delivered directly to our yachts later in the afternoon!

By 4pm came around, it was time to get ready for check in. Paying our tab at Bolivar, we walked the 10 minutes up to the marina where Andy helped me retrieve the bag I left in storage, gave my credit cards as a security deposit for all 4 yachts (trusting Christina with the other one at their separate marina), and waited for us to be let onboard.

With flags for each yacht to hoist up, I figured it was worth getting them up as soon as possible; it’s not easy to get 4 massive flags of your travel blog at the last minute.

TYW staff even came by and handed me this orange flag that they said was rare to earn: ROUND FOUR HERE WE GO for my 4th trip with TYW.

As we freshened up, changed, and waited for groceries to be delivered and stored, we ordered dinner as well to our yachts to minimize any organizing stress.

About a 5 minute walk south from the main marina, we headed to our first party of the week at Cape Sol.

Cheers to our first day of the next best week of our lives!

While we partied with all the space to ourselves inside, this was waiting outside:

By midnight the official YW party ended and we tried to get out before the crush of locals were let in. Grabbing some cash from the ATM for Christina, Gina, and Michelle, I then headed back to my yacht to get in as close of a full night’s sleep before the rest of the week.

- At time of posting in Alimos, it was 38 °C - Humidity: 30% | Wind Speed: 31km/hr | Cloud Cover: hot as balls

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Meteora Sightings

Calvin Sun — Thu, 13 Jul 2023 23:04:57 +0000

After 2 days in Rhodes, Amelia, Yuhan, and I enjoyed a free morning before taking a €30 cab to RHO airport for our 4pm afternoon flight back to Athens. I even snuck in a second gym session at Oxygen gym outside of Old Rhodes!

Once arriving back at ATH and stopping in front of Carousel 7 to wait for my checked bag (most domestic flights are run by low cost budget carriers), I soon got a phone call from Athens airport –

“Hello? Is this Calvin? This is Athens airport. You made a report about a lost bag 2 days ago and we now have it. Where in Greece are you? We can deliver it to you.”

“I just arrived from Rhodes! Crazy! Where in Athens airport are you located?”

“In baggage claims at the Skyserv office in front of carousel 8.”

“Wow! I’m now at airport baggage claims, standing waiting for my bag in front of carousel 7…right next to your office.”

“Oh…wow…In all my years working here this has never happened before!”

I bet she didn’t expect that within minutes of going down her long list and giving me that call, she’d have a freebie in returning my luggage. I therefore told the staff member, Martella, that this kind of travel magic happens often, and that she should now make a wish!

Then swapping packing cubes around and storing my bag in the safety of Care4Bag outside of Arrivals Hall A for the next 3 days, we waited for Amelia’s flight to land and then took a taxi via Uber for our fancy lodgings at AP Acropolis View Apartments. Amelia continued onwards to stay at her hotel nearby.

As Roxanne had already arrived a few hours earlier, Yuhan, Roxanne and I then headed out together for dinner and drinks at 360 Cocktails Rooftop and Misafir Rooftop.

Taejin then landed a few hours later and joined us soon afterwards at Misafir where he got to meet everyone for the first time (including me) as well as Amelia who freshened up and joined us later.

The next morning after breakfast at 10am my old friend from Athens, Sidian, dropped by to pick us up in a 9 person rental van and take us on the 4 hour drive to Meteora, namely the adjacent villages of Kastraki and Kalabaki.

Along the way we stopped for a pee break near the Memorial of Leonidas and 300 Spartans where the famous Battle of Thermopylae took place.

If you’re keen on dipping in 100ºF waters under 100ºF sun, there are also some sulfur natural hot springs about a 2 minute drive further down the freeway from the 300 memorial.

Once we reached Meteora in the mid afternoon we passed through Kalambaki, the more happening and developed village of the two options.

However, I preferred to be closer to the rock wonders and get a head start on potential morning hikes, and therefore I picked to stay in Kastraki at Guesthouse Papastathis.

After checking in and settling into our rooms with a view, we went out for lunch underneath a few monasteries.

We then took detour to the closest “city” in the area called Trikala for a city hike in 100ºF heat, heading as far as to the The Mill of the Elves, a redeveloped factory turned theme park for families especially during Christmas.

It was also formerly known as Mylos Matsopoulou, built in 1884 and was one of the most important modern cultural monuments in Trikala. Its industrial construction was ahead of its time for the Balkans, and remained centerpiece of Trikala’s redevelopment until it closed in the 1980s.

We then drove up to Byzantine Castle of Trikala and its views over Trikala. It had already long closed 2 hours early at 1pm due to the heat wave:

Afterwards we returned to Meteora and chugged back up to the main observation desk of Meteora to catch the sunset views:

I’d advise to camp out there at least an hour early to beat the last minute tourist hordes.

The magic starts about 30 minutes before the sun dips below the horizon:

Afterwards we celebrated our long day at the formidable Fortounis Tsipouradiko for dinner. Get all their stuffed meats for the entreés.

The next morning we greeted Jeff who had arrived in the middle of the night after taking the train from Athens. Luckily for him our original plan for an early breakfast and to start our hike right at sunrise to visit every single monastery was veto’ed by locals the day before; they described how this was a horrible and risky idea especially since each and every single monastery could now be easily driven to.

Furthermore, we were in the middle of a heat wave during Greece’s hottest week on record. And therefore since it has been consistently over 40ºC (100+ºF!) where we would also wearily hike on the same winding paved roads that cars drive back and forth on, the risk of hiking everything outweighed the potential rewards. We decided instead to relax for breakfast and wait for Melinda to return from her 5am sunrise hike (at least when the weather was cooler for her) and for Roxanne to wake from her deep slumber.

Once the 9 of us were ready we drove out at 11am and reached the Holy Monastery of Saint Nicholas Anapafsas. It opens at 9:00am and can be reached in 10-20 minutes by foot, and another 15 minutes up the stairs from the parking lot. It is also one of the only monasteries open everyday.

Staff throughout Meteora are pretty strict about keeping knees and shoulders covered when visiting each monastery and all of the monasteries except Varlaam provide free coverings. They are also pretty vigilant in enforcing no video or photography inside the monasteries despite the €3 admission fee that they charge at every site (there is no “single access” ticket deal) and the ubiquitous tacky gift shops.

However, if you did take any photos it would look like many similar looking versions as this:

Outside is free reign for photography (you can’t put a price on nature); Saint Nicholas’ Anapafas probably has the most panoramically unobstructed views at the top compared to the other monasteries.

After 15 minutes at Saint Nicholas Anapafsas we drove out to reach the Holy Monastery of Rousanos. It opens at 9am and closed on Wednesdays. It is also one of the two monasteries (the other being Saint Stephan) to have nuns living here.

Weaving around west for another 5 minutes (or what would have been a 30 minute walk), we reached the end of the road at much larger and sprawling Great Meteoron Holy Monastery. This one is closed on Tuesdays.

From the parking lot, access to this monastery requires a little longer hike down a few flights of stairs and back up.

We then returned for a quick water break and drove 4 minutes around to the Monastery of Varlaam, which is also about a 20 minute walk away.

They’re the only monastery we visited today that did not provide skirts to cover knees and shoulders for free; you have to pay €3.50 for a shawl on top of the €3 admission fee to enter.

The Monastery of Varlaam is known for its outdoor gardens and a gigantic 12,000L wooden barrel for wine storage:

Continuing east, we then drove by the famous Viewpoint and the Main Observation Deck where we hung out last night for sunset.

…and another, less magical viewpoint 5 minutes west of the main observation deck.

Then driving back southeast, we passed the Monastery of St. Stephan. This monastery is closed on Mondays and is the only one with a “lunch break” between 1:30pm and 3:30pm.

You also may notice the many nuns walking around; St Stephen Monastery is one of two nunneries here, with the other one being the Monastery of Rousanou.

Finally, the very last monastery we drove by was Monastery of the Holy Trinity. Closed on Thursdays, we could only peek inside.

From there we drove down back to sea level at Kalambaka for a well-deserved outdoor lunch at 3:00pm under 100ºF heat. Then driving back to Kastraki, we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon to ourselves before returning again for another bitchin’ sunset at the same viewpoint and watching Everything Everywhere All At Once again for the sake of Amelia, who’s never seen it before!

BTW this is what Meteora looks like in the middle of the night at 4:30am:

We’re gonna miss you Sidian! Thanks for driving us and dropping us off at the airport the next morning. Hope you also made your flight to Crete!

- At time of posting in Meteora, it was 38 °C - Humidity: 23% | Wind Speed: 5km/hr | Cloud Cover: tooooo hot

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All Rhodes Lead To…

Calvin Sun — Mon, 10 Jul 2023 22:00:59 +0000

We’ve been preparing for awhile. Hot off the heels of my last trip from Mogadishu, I decided to not travel in June so that I could adequately do right by this major upcoming and nearly one month long trip to Greece in July.

Skipping a month to monsoon is a big deal. So big I might even decide to skip traveling in August to recover from a trip like this.

And this all started when last September — nearly 10 months ago! — during my launch party’s afterparty more than half folks from our French Polynesian YW trip last April collectively twisted my arm to organize another yacht week experience in Greece this July.

So it started with friendly trustworthy peer pressure, as it always does. Then I decided if I were to return to Greece I should add places I missed the last time I was there, namely Meteora and Crete. And then I thought if I’m already near the area and I can get sold out Tomorrowland tickets via a Global Journey package where they could book my Greece to Belgium flights. And then, finally with extra time on my hands in July, I also decided to add in the island of Rhodes as an off-the-books visit for myself.

And it just keeps adding up. The little things. Little things to big things. To Rhodes, the place where the Colossus of Rhodes once stood and also was my 7th grade history project where my classmate David Pasternak and I tried to build a model of the former world wonder.

To get here I stumbled upon a ridiculously underpriced $1100 business class flight from New York City to Athens via Air Serbia — My first time paying for business class in cash!

Taking off at 7:30pm on flight JU 501 from JFK to BEG, I enjoyed the quality of AirSerbia’s renovated hard product seats, which were comfortable enough.

Their amenity kit included a hard shell case and in-flight EVVIVA hand cream that I appreciated, although the cotton swab and q-tips I could have also done without.

Their best offer was new in-flight pajamas and slippers to keep!

Landing an hour and a half later at 12pm the next day local time in Belgrade, we had our 2 hour layover cut short to 25 minutes. So once the door opened, me and a couple heading for Mykonos sprinted through the airport within a *20 minute window* to make it to the next gate before our 12:25pm JU512 flight from Belgrade to Athens, also on business class.

Luckily once we arrived at our gate exactly at 12:20pm, they were still checking names and swapping tickets at the counter, giving us an extra 30 minutes to catch our breath. I took advantage of this borrowed time by walking over to the A gates and checking out their Premium Lounge for a few minutes:

This counts as a “throne seat” on a intra-European airline “business class,” right?

Landing in Athens at around 4:00pm in the afternoon less than 2 hours later, I had an original plan of checking one of my bags at Care4Bag so I didn’t have to bring too much for my 3 days trip to Rhodes.

However, it appeared that only an hour’s layover at Belgrade was definitely not enough for a bag to be transferred from my JFK-BEG flight to BEG-ATH: aka my bag never arrived and was stuck in Belgrade. Therefore, I spent another hour at the lost luggage counter in ATH baggage claims with the couple and a few others to generate Property Irregularity Forms (PIRs), with which we could makes claims with insurance, airlines, and to track our bags. At least I made a few friends out of it and got to save money on left luggage.

If it’s to be a first time for everything it’s worth it to commemorate it as a potential opportunity and detour down the line!

I then licked my wounds and boarded Sky Express flight GQ 282 from Athens to Rhodes at 7:15pm which got me into Rhodes less than an hour later at 8:10pm local time.

Getting out of the airport I waited for the €3.50 airport bus #50/51/56 into Rhodes at the café behind the bus stop while figuring out how to contact AirSerbia in different ways (the fastest response was tagging their IG account on an Instagram story; half an hour later that account responded providing me a phone number that has yet to pick up, an e-mail address that has yet to respond, and a website tracking my bag with the PIR that has yet to be updated).

I then boarded bus 51 (50 and 56 are also fine) at 10pm to take me into Old Town, arriving about 45 minutes later.

I walked another 11 minutes from the bus stop and took in everything I was seeing.

Checking into my lodgings at SOFI’s House in old town by 11pm, I reunited with Amelia whom I last saw in Svalbard, and waited another hour for YuHan to arrive by bus. Yuhan met and last saw me when I spoke at an event in DC for Ascend more than 6 years ago in 2017! We then turned in immediately afterwards.

The next morning we woke up with coffee outside our homestay.

Breakfast was no less perfect for a first morning of a trip.

We then began our tour of Rhodes Old City.

One of the oldest settlements in the world and inhabited since Neolithic times, the island was already famous for its cities of Lindos, Ialysos, and Kameiros from the epics of Homer. In 408 BCE those 3 cities joined to become the capital city of the island, also called Rhodes.

Byzantine Empire, the Venetians, the Genoese, the Crusading Knights of Saint John, and then the Ottoman Empire, Rhodes has almost seen it all.

Rhodes’ Old Town is therefore a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the largest and best preserved medieval towns in Europe. Once you cross from bus station over the outer wall and moat, you’ve entered a time machine where you can fancy yourself as a crusading knight stumbling upon castles from far off lands.

Or you can fancy yourself as a tourist wandering around a big giant modern outdoor shopping mall (although one could argue that for centuries Rhodes Old City has always been different iterations of a contemporary shopping mall):

It seems the town centers around Hippocrates Square as a place to start your walk:

Another big part of the old city would be Palace of the Grand Master of the Knights of Rhodes:

Next we just channeled our inner flâneur and continued to wander.

By noon we left the old city temporarily to venture up each pier.

The main show and very northwestern tip marks the spot where the Colossus of Rhodes once stood. Although you’d want to believe the legend how an immense statue straddled the harbor entry, pure engineering physics and historical research suggests both of his legs stayed on one side of the entry and on a pedestal.

Colossus just got served.

The Church of the Annunciation of the Theotokos marks the western border of all of Rhodes’ piers.

The central pier is marked by windmills and former bastion-turned-lighthouse Saint Nicholas Fortress at the very end . . .

The French Tower marks the easternmost pier.

Venturing more northwest, we then walked around the northern part of Rhodes city for lunch, which appears to be a more developed and modern neighborhood compared to Old Rhodes. Definitely nothing uniquely Rhodes here compared to living inside a castle.

Afterwards we retired back in the afternoon for a nap before dinner at at Thomas: Despite an amusing mixup with thinking both keys was accidentally thrown in the laundry that almost led me to miss half the dinner, it was worth it for the views and conversations.

- At time of posting in Rhodes, it was 33 °C - Humidity: 24% | Wind Speed: 24km/hr | Cloud Cover: clear, sunny, hot

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Mogadishu, Somalia: Witness to Reconstruction & Renaissance

Calvin Sun — Sat, 27 May 2023 16:04:01 +0000

The Battle of Mogadishu took place nearly more than 30 years ago in 1993 and its subsequent depiction in the film Black Hawk Down has remained a fixture of my childhood since high school. I still remember the night when we went to watch the film with my fellow high school freshmen and some of its scenes, as inaccurate as many of them may be when it comes to Hollywood depictions, have still stuck with me ever since.

Since then the American military has long pulled out from Somalia (more than 2 decades ago!), and even in August 2011 the militant group al-Shabaab entirely withdrew from Mogadishu. Mayor Mohamed Nur then capitalized on that opportunity to stabilize and rebuild the city with the close help of the UN, USAID, and DRC. In the 12 years since, the city and government administration have harnessed a data-driven approach to post-war reconstruction and enacted subsequent large-scale rehabilitation of roads and general infrastructure, with cooperating residents cooperating and improving upon civil, municipal, and police security.

Therefore when we received an exclusive invitation by a local organization there to conclude our Horn of Africa trip in Mogadishu, Somalia, I immediately replied with a meme of Liam Neeson giving his affirmation. Although I had not been intending to go out my way to visit, I also wouldn’t turn down an invitation if I would already be in the area. My unconventional reply then encouraged our Western representative — Rowan — to turn that invitation into a real trip, and now we’re here with the unique privilege of witnessing Mogadishu’s early renaissance.

After a gloriously convenient in-terminal stay in Addis Ababa’s Skylight Hotel last night (10 minutes from bed to gate C11 all the way on the opposite end of the terminal!), I joined Rowan, Vincent, Anthony, Prashant, and Gerry (whom I last traveled with last month in South Sudan) at the gate and arrived on an early Ethiopian Airlines flight from Addis Ababa that got us in at 12:15pm in the afternoon.

Our seatmates, local Somalis, next to us struck up a conversation with pointed curiosity why we were visiting as tourists and expressed gratitude that we were one of the few Westerners to give Somalia a chance.

Although their conversations also came with a few warnings not to wander off on our own unless we ditched the backpacks and cameras (so we can better blend in and look less like tourists), I never felt any nervous energy or concern. They got even more excited at pointing out that the Mayor of Mogadishu, Yusuf Hussein Jimale, was sitting only a few rows ahead of us in business class. Jimale then came out to say hi to some of us in economy.

We landed at MGQ and what felt like a very very busy airport.

Believe it or not, the Somalia visa is on arrival for Americans!

But to make it on arrival, it is very likely that if you’re coming to Somalia you’d also already have a local guide or fixer to assist you with all immigration formalities:

After approaching the immigrations desk and providing my invitation letter above, my passport and $60 USD in cash, they called our fixer to confirm, took a quick photo of me with a camera, quickly gave me back my documents, and sent someone to take my passport to the back while I waited off to the side.

Within 5 minutes they returned with this beautiful new visa on arrival in my passport already stamped and approved.

Probably the fastest and most efficient visas on arrival I’ve had since Kurdistan, Iraq!

Once everyone got their luggage and we met the others in our group, including a guy named Chris whom I had run into last year in Baghdad, we walked out to our jeeps to take us to Shamo Hotel where we then checked in.

You got your gun next to my “gun.”

Our hotel may ring a bell for some keeping up with Somali current events; its conference hall was attacked in 2009 targeting dignitaries attending a graduation ceremony for local Somali students. When graduating local students were also inadvertently killed, public opinion turned against the terrorist group al-Shabaab, ironically leading to Hotel Shamo becoming probably a safer place to stay now that any group wanting public support for legitimacy would not want to repeat the same mistake at the same place again.

Now it’s where we had our lunch on our second day in Mogadishu.

After freshening up, we drove out and met our armed police escort to accompany us. What made it even more surreal was that our guide and driver was playing clips from “Black Hawk Down” on his car dashboard monitor.

As we drove out from Shamo hotel, I noticed the Arco Di Tronfo Poplare seemed very familiar…

… the arch was reproduced almost accurately in a scene from Black Hawk Down:

Arguably the top must-see site in Mogadishu is the beautiful long beach at Lido for a swim and boat ride with the locals.

Starting from a restaurant overlooking the beach, we walked down a flight of steps and took off our shoes for a stroll.

There a few boats were waiting for us to take us for a 15 minute sail up and down the coast:

As we sailed by, the hundreds that were swimming turned around and either yelled the equivalent of “screw you” with laughter, or cheered “Peace and Love!” to our boats. Very surreal. It honestly felt like the “screw you” part felt more as a playful use of what they knew in English than a intentionally malicious tell-off.

We then returned to sit by on the beach and let the locals there chat with us:

After an hour at Lido, we then drove to The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier:

Then we stopped at a café for some sweets and Somali tea.

One of my favorite parts in Mogadishu happens to be our simply walking down the street afterwards …our armed police escort in front, and an armed jeep flanking us to our left added to the atmosphere.

We then returned for dinner back at the hotel, but only after taking in a sunset from our rooftop overlooking Mogadishu and hearing the occasional gunfire every hour or so in the background (it felt like I was back in my medical school rotations and looking out my hospital windows in Brooklyn).

Can’t complain over dinner with a view, after which we then congregated in Rowan’s room until midnight, hanging out with drinks and chatting.

The next morning after breakfast at our hotel we started our day at the beachfront where smaller boats would return from the deep sea fishing trawlers carrying their catch of the day.

Walking down the wet, muddy steps from street level as local Somalis carried up juggernaut swordfishes and sharks up the stairs next to us carried such a frenetic energy that I have a hard time comparing the experience with anything else that could come close.

This was a special kind of beach we won’t forget.

From this beach you can spot the capital’s most iconic landmark in the middle among the skyline – the lighthouse. Built in the early 1900s by Italians, the lighthouse represents the colonial past, the disastrous years of civil war, and the struggling present.

We then returned back up the stairs onto street level and walked across for Mogadishu’s bustling fish market – one of the city’s most vibrant scenes and not for the faint of heart or those who get queasy at the sight, let alone the idea of slaughterhouse gore.

Fishermen drag their fresh catch from their smaller boats on the shores up to this market.

The most common catch we saw here was the swordfish. This is where the haggling and auctioning begins.

And then when you go inside the market, you’ll see master craftsmen cutting up the fish with such dexterity that it reminded me of the fish markets in Japan although a lot more crowded in a smaller space.

From the market we returned to another part of the shoreline to see many dried out fish skin for sale.

…and an occasional well preserved shark jaw:

After 45 minutes here, we regained our senses over some coffee afterwards at a speakeasy rooftop café called Carsh:

Returning back to our hotel for a mid-day break, we then had lunch at the conference center as the second part of the group who had stayed a day longer in Asmara joined us at Shamo Hotel.

Now a group of 13, we then headed back out to visit the ruins of Mogadishu Cathedral.

Built in 1928 during Italian colonialism, the cathedral served as the seat of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Mogadiscio between 1928 and 1991 before al-Shabaab destroyed it in 2008.

Take notice of the bullet holes in Jesus.

Continuing to see the influences of Italian colonialism on Mogadishu, we next stopped at the Arch of Umberto I, built in the mid 1930s in preparation for a visit by the King of Italy.

This arch stands in front of the ruins of what used to be the central bank of Somalia.

As the second group then peeled off for their turn to visit Lido, ours strolled through the bazaars and stalls at Hamarwein old town.

This is where the old Mogadishu originated from as it is still referred to as “old town.”

After an hour here unsuccessfully trying to find good quality souvenirs, we made our last stop at Peace Park, an amusement center for families and kids.

The sight of our 7 armed guards and all their assault rifles was a stark juxtaposition to the overall theme of what this park is supposed to promote. But then the park soon lived up to its name as the guy who owned the big swings approached us to express his appreciation that we were visiting Somalia as tourists and encouraged us to return home to let them know how much it has and will continue to change for the better.

We then returned back to the hotel before it got dark where we had a group dinner at the rooftop once more and for the last time. The next morning I was escorted back to the airport to make my afternoon flight out of Somalia and back to Addis Ababa.

The steps to flying out of Mogadishu’s Aden Adde International Airport.

Your car is likely about to be parked in a very long line outside the first airport checkpoint.

2. Don’t like waiting? Get out of the car and get through by foot. Show first guard your passport and flight ticket.

3. Walk down a hallway and turn a corner.

4. Walk down another hallway.

5. Show another guard your passport and flight ticket. Walk down another hall.

6. There might be another guard checking documents.

7. Walk through a courtyard past the sniper’s watchtower.

8. Once past the sniper’s watchtower, open the door to what looks like a shipping container.

9. Go through your first round of bag checks and metal detectors.

10. Exit the security in the shipping container and cross the street.

11. Keep walking down until you finally see the entrance to the actual airport.

12. Allow yourself to be redirected to a room on your right and line up your bags for your second round of bag checks with a bomb sniffing dog.

13. Exit the kennel inspection area with your bags and head to either domestic or international departures.

14. Go through your third round of bag checks and metal detectors.

15. Approach the desk to check-in

16. The desk then directs you to the actual check-in counters. Check in, get your boarding passes, and get your boarding pass stamped by another desk to the left of the next round of security. If you’re flying business class, a very eager semi-famous whistling airport employee with big eyes may help you along and get you to skip the lines for a small tip.

17. Once your boarding pass has been stamped, go through your fourth round of bag checks and x-rays.

18. Take a breather at any of the shops, cafés, restaurants, or lounges past this point. Then take a deep breath one more time and go to your gate.

19. Once past the gate for your actual gate, go through your fifth round of bag checks (no x-rays this time) with a staff member going through all your belongings inside your bag.

20. Then line up all your bags one more time for a sixth and final round of bag checks with another bomb-sniffing dog.

21. Now you’re ready to board your flight. Everyone boards at once regardless of cabin, and walks to their plane.

22. Say goodbye to Mogadishu. Until we see you again.

- At time of posting in Mogadishu, it was 29 °C - Humidity: 77% | Wind Speed: 23km/hr | Cloud Cover: the pleasant kind of hot

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