What da What in Da Lat
Where was Rumpelstiltskin? Where were Hansel and Gretel? All I could find were Ha and Hang and Hung, all Nguyens. Something didn’t match.
In Da Lat everything you think you know about Vietnam is wrong. There are pine trees instead of palm. There are hills instead of beaches. People grow flowers instead of rice. And it’s cold. Actually cold. Ok, more like cool but definitely not brow-dripping hot like the rest of the country. Da Lat makes you stop and wonder, “What da what is going on?”
Mr. & Mrs.
…and we’re married!
Being married is like before but better. JD is now fully, legally what he has already been in my heart. I fail to properly describe the awesome (in the true sense) moments we’ve had moving from Engaged to Married. So I won’t try. Instead, just thank you to all the friends, family and special randoms who’ve made it the beyond great that it is. And mostly thank you to JD, my travel partner, life partner, my partner in crime and now my husband.
Mui Ne: Dunes, Kites and a Kremlin of Russians
Red meets white at the strangely diverse Vietnamese town of Mui Ne. This small fishing town was introduced to backpacker hostels and kitschy souvenir shops after two notable discoveries were made: surfers found the wind conditions perfect for kite surfing and Russians just plain found it. Suddenly this lazy, lapping village, with its notorious backdrop of red and white sand dunes became front and center in Vietnamese tourism.
Happy Hippos (Togetho)
I am spoiled by summer. It is as miracle-embraced for me now as it was for most of us when we were six and had our first long, uninterrupted break from school; a break we’d previously been living but never fully appreciated until Kindergarten sounded the alarm and gave us a Monday-to-Friday routine. As a teacher, I still get that luxurious stretch of time. But now, instead of spending hours climbing trees, I’m climbing planes and getting the absolute thrill of seeing a different part of the world each year.
Which Came First, the Chicken or the Expat?
Who owes who in an expat/nation relationship? Does the expat owe their newfound residence eternal gratitude? Does their new country owe them for bringing over their mad dog skills? Or does the balance lie somewhere in between? (Hint: the PC answer is always in the noncommittal negotiated answer).
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Butterflies, Dense Jungle…and Caving
The caves were a-callin’. For years JD and I had heard about, and been interested in, the Phong Nha caves. The world’s biggest network of nearly untouched caves surrounded by dense jungle and Ha Long Bay-esq dramatic mountains, with a sprinkling of indigenous tribes sounded too exotic to resist. So we didn’t.
When Our Path Impedes on Others’
In the noble quest to find oneself through traveling is it possible to overlap, even infringe, on the paths of others? I read an article today about the detrimental effects photojournalism has had on indigenous tribes in Ethiopia’s Omo Valley. The locals there now limit their own development and cheapen their culture for the forgettable benefit of any journalist or tourist with a buck to throw their way once the headdresses are off. Their lives now revolve around sustaining an image of a tribe that has essentially ceased to exist.
Now, I’m not one for sob stories. I have little patience for those who are portrayed as the alleged victim when they, themselves, benefit and enter by their own free will. I pledge with the un-alleged. But it upset me when this article called the happenings of photojournalism in the valley a “human zoo”. This is the stuff of creepy movies and human centipedes.
My travel has always revolved around me; I want to go so I do. I want to better myself, so I take pictures, write in my diary and get to act pretentious at my next cocktail party. I travel for myself. But if travel is truly for the benefit of only one then how can it justify any sort of harm to another? Surely if good (for 1 person) = bad (for 1 person) we’re right back at point zero. Might as well have stayed home and watched TV.
Fantastic Filipino Festival
Belinda Carlisle was right; heaven is a place on Earth. It’s in the Philippines. Among no less than 7,000 islands that make up this skinny, snakey country is paradise. Here are the white sand beaches of postcards and the perfectly clear blue water of movie sets. This is the Ultimate in beach holidays. Sorry folks, there is no way to avoid clichés here. The people are friendly and lively. The islands are never-ending and offer everything from tranquil isolation to rummed-up good times. Snorkeling lays out the most stunning coral I’ve seen and scuba diving takes you into WWII sunken ships. Our recent Filipino Festival might well be the best trip of my life. And, since there’s no way words can do justice to a place such as this, here are a few pictures to make my point for me. Go!
Better than Blogging
Once upon a time there was a mosquito and a flying cockroach (yes, they do fly) who were best friends. Poor little Mozzie and Roach-o-Cock were despised by all so unfairly. “It’s not my fault that I eat blood!” cried Mozzie Moz one day. Cockie nodded, “I understand. It’s not my fault I’m so big and loathed. I just want someone to love me.” And so, kids, the moral of the story is…
Get lost, stupid bugs.
JD and I are engaged! Holy hells, internet! She-who-would-not-wed has fallen flip-flop over heel for the best guy in the world! And somehow he seems to like her, too! Woohoo!
Dagnabbit, Christmas!
No matter how far away from home or tradition I go, Christmas stalks me. As I tanned on an exotic Costa Rican beach, staring at palm trees instead of pine, it was suddenly there. Santa was wearing a flower print shirt, but was hohoho-ing nonetheless. In Africa, despite my best efforts to replace reindeer with springbok, jingle bells were a-ringin’. Even here in Vietnam, a country where less than 10 per cent of the population even recognizes Christmas – where neon karaoke signs outshine twinkly tree lights, where stockings hung by the chimney with care are quickly taken away by the local laundry women, where sleighs are replaced by maniac scooters – Christmas has snuck its way through passport control. Holiday cheer greets me with chopsticks.
Dagnabbit, Christmas, you win again! Once more I am swayed by your corny songs, wooed by your high caloric treats and, mostly, excited as a pigtailed brat that you are only a few days away!
Hooray! Hooray! Christmas is (almost) here!
beyonddisneytraveltips 