Let this be a lesson to you. No one at the late-night taqueria is looking for love. They're just looking for food. And there is nothing attractive about a man moaning at random before he's even ordered.
Ya hear?
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Late night at Taqueria Cancun
When you're at Taqueria Cancun at 2 o'clock in the morning, and you've decided to make a last ditch attempt to find a girl for the night, don't moan and groan behind her. Seriously, if you are hungry, keep that business to yourself. No one is at Taqueria Cancun because they like the atmosphere. They are there because they had too much to drink and need a little something to soak up the a-a-a-a-a-alocohol. So the girl in front of you that is most likely 10 years your senior doesn't care to listen to you moan. She doesn't want to hear you groan. She just wants her super quesadilla. The only way that you can be of help is to give her the 53 cents she's short..but you didn't. And you had it. You were just selfish. Luckily the guy behind the counter either believed that she'd make it right the next day or over-charged you for her lack of funds. Nevertheless, your offer to allow her to sit at your booth with the rest of your friends was futile because all she wanted to do was take her food home and sit in front of the tv, shoving it in her mouth just before retiring for the night...'cause that's how she rolls.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
And Bangkok, I'll Never Forget How You Smell
Well, today is my last day in Thailand. When I woke up this morning, it didn't seem like such a big deal, but now that I'm a thte airport trying to spend the last of my baht I misguidedly exchanged hoping to buy one last article of clothing, I'm a little sad. I could stay here. In fact, there was a moment when I thought I might blow off my flight.
The majority of my day was pretty run-of-the-mill last day material--mani/pedi, leg waxing, massage. The usual. Then I made the fatal error of exchanging $10 with the intent to buy a shirt. Unfortunately for me, said shirt didn't fit. Even after six weeks in SE Asia, I am still too big for the one size fits all clothing they sell on the street.
Having failed that mission, I had no choice but to spend my 400 baht at a bar. While at the bar, I made a new British friend (who happened to live in the south of France). We were having such a good time that I could have come close to missing my bus to the airport. Alas, my sense of responsibility came out for a visit, and I left. Too bad for me, the bus, which was actually a shuttle, did not share my sense of responsibility. Not only was it late, but it was overbooked. What could have been a disaster, ended up being a stroke of luck for me a couple Japanese guys.
While eighteen smelly travelers squeezed into the van with all of their luggage, the two Japanese guys and I luxuriated in an air-conditioned taxi. As we drove down the highway, we passed the van and congratulated ourselves on being so lucky, for to say the van looked uncomfortable would have been an understatement. We chatted all the way to the airport having quickly made friends with each other, making me feel, once again, that this past six weeks has been my best travel experience yet.
Once at the airport, we parted ways, I changed clothes, checked in and found a place to spend the rest of my baht. My airport dinner made me cry, just like every other meal I had in Thailand (because of my insistence on eating spicy food, not because I blubber every time I eat), making it a fitting end to a wonderful trip.
Farewell Thailand!
And, Bangkok, I'll always remember how you smell.
The majority of my day was pretty run-of-the-mill last day material--mani/pedi, leg waxing, massage. The usual. Then I made the fatal error of exchanging $10 with the intent to buy a shirt. Unfortunately for me, said shirt didn't fit. Even after six weeks in SE Asia, I am still too big for the one size fits all clothing they sell on the street.
Having failed that mission, I had no choice but to spend my 400 baht at a bar. While at the bar, I made a new British friend (who happened to live in the south of France). We were having such a good time that I could have come close to missing my bus to the airport. Alas, my sense of responsibility came out for a visit, and I left. Too bad for me, the bus, which was actually a shuttle, did not share my sense of responsibility. Not only was it late, but it was overbooked. What could have been a disaster, ended up being a stroke of luck for me a couple Japanese guys.
While eighteen smelly travelers squeezed into the van with all of their luggage, the two Japanese guys and I luxuriated in an air-conditioned taxi. As we drove down the highway, we passed the van and congratulated ourselves on being so lucky, for to say the van looked uncomfortable would have been an understatement. We chatted all the way to the airport having quickly made friends with each other, making me feel, once again, that this past six weeks has been my best travel experience yet.
Once at the airport, we parted ways, I changed clothes, checked in and found a place to spend the rest of my baht. My airport dinner made me cry, just like every other meal I had in Thailand (because of my insistence on eating spicy food, not because I blubber every time I eat), making it a fitting end to a wonderful trip.
Farewell Thailand!
And, Bangkok, I'll always remember how you smell.
Lao Airlines: You Are Safe With Us
Dear Lao Airlines,
I am writing to say that I am impressed. Yes, I was somewhat afraid to get on your plane, seeing as you are known to have a bad safety record (although that can all be chocked up to speculation since you don't publish it in the first place). And well, your fleet mostly consists of the Old Chinese planes that have a penchant for engine failure...but you seem okay. Sure the first flight was bumpy, and I'm not sure if it was the air, the plane, or the pilot who was responsible. The take-offs were rough, and the landings were, by far, the worst, most jerky, and hardest landings I've ever experienced. That aside, your service was excellent. You do all the things US carriers stopped doing. You serve food and drinks (without charge). The flight attendants were friendly. You pass out handi-wipes. And, when you cancel a flight, you don't stop at putting the stranded passengers up in a decent hotel, you also provide them with dinner and entertainment for the night. Also, my second flight was far less eventful and on a new plane, so it really made me question all the fear-mongering I had drilled into my own mind.
I appreciate what you are trying to accomplish with the "You're Safe With Us" slogan, but you have a ways to go to reverse the negative public image. It's a nice start regardless. Safety aside, your customer service is excellent, so kudos to you.
Bravo, Lao Airlines! I made it to my destination, twice in a row.
Yay for small victories.
Sincerely,
Cardelia Boardeaux
I am writing to say that I am impressed. Yes, I was somewhat afraid to get on your plane, seeing as you are known to have a bad safety record (although that can all be chocked up to speculation since you don't publish it in the first place). And well, your fleet mostly consists of the Old Chinese planes that have a penchant for engine failure...but you seem okay. Sure the first flight was bumpy, and I'm not sure if it was the air, the plane, or the pilot who was responsible. The take-offs were rough, and the landings were, by far, the worst, most jerky, and hardest landings I've ever experienced. That aside, your service was excellent. You do all the things US carriers stopped doing. You serve food and drinks (without charge). The flight attendants were friendly. You pass out handi-wipes. And, when you cancel a flight, you don't stop at putting the stranded passengers up in a decent hotel, you also provide them with dinner and entertainment for the night. Also, my second flight was far less eventful and on a new plane, so it really made me question all the fear-mongering I had drilled into my own mind.
I appreciate what you are trying to accomplish with the "You're Safe With Us" slogan, but you have a ways to go to reverse the negative public image. It's a nice start regardless. Safety aside, your customer service is excellent, so kudos to you.
Bravo, Lao Airlines! I made it to my destination, twice in a row.
Yay for small victories.
Sincerely,
Cardelia Boardeaux
Monday, February 15, 2010
Luang Prabang, You Make Everything Better
I probably could have rolled in Sarajevo during the Bosnian war and would have been just as relieved to get off that bus. Yowza! That may have been the most uncomfortable seven hours I've ever spent, and that's saying something. I've had plenty of uncomfortable moments that stretched on for far too long.
We shared a tuk-tuk into town with some of our other harried travelers and started the process of finding a place in which to rest our weary heads. The beginning of our quest felt annoyingly similar to our first couple of hours in Vientiane, though in a much nicer and more quaint town (there's a reason it's a UNESCO World Heritage Site). As usual, the prices in Lonely Planet were WAY out of date (and my Scottish friend was not adept at putting a damper on his disappointment. After a quick survey, we found a nice enough spot for a reasonable price (which, quite frankly, almost anything was a step up in class and comfort from the treehouse we called home in Vang Vieng). It was close to the center of town, and just as we finished getting our keys, the English guys who sat in front of us on the bus grabbed the last two rooms as their original plan completely fell through.
Our night consisted of wandering around town, visiting the night market, and eating in an alley. It was lovely. What was even better was that I was finally starting to appreciate Laos in the way I had hoped I would. Success. As we discussed our plans for the next day, we both agreed that renting bicycles was the way to go. We thought we would ride them to the waterfall that was 35 kilometers out of town. And we would have...had the bike rental place been equipped with mountain bikes. Rather, they only offered up beach cruisers, and, being that I AM a skilled triathlete (and have ridden on the wrong kind of bike far too many times), I knew that no mountain would be climbed in single-gear beach cruiser. Instead we decided to sign up with a tour that would drive us to the waterfall. We ended our night with a little HBO (see, this guesthouse was fancy) and a can of Pringles.
The next morning, we took a pleasant stroll around town, visiting the monasteries and enjoying some tea at a local coffee shop. In the afternoon, we joined our group and rode to the waterfall. Fifteen minutes into the ride, the Scot gave me a knowing look. We never would have made it to the waterfall. I can only imagine that he too had found the spot where I (and possibly he) would start lashing out at the world because the ride was far too difficult. The waterfalls were beautiful, and we swam at every level. It was a great day.
Upon returning to town, we showered and got dressed for our last night out on the town. Once again, alley food was on the menu, and we enjoyed a little last-minute night market shopping. Since I had to meet my English friend across the hall at 5:00am to catch our tuk-tuk ride to the airport (as he was the only member of his group brave enough to fly on Lao Airlines. His other friends were planning to take the bus all the way down to Vientiane...and then take a boat, and then a train...all in the name of fear and caution), I ended up falling asleep at the late hour of 8:30pm.
The next morning, my English friend and I commended ourselves on our bravery and enjoyed a perfectly average flight (in a new plane, leading me to believe that Lao Airlines was making some positive changes). We both arrived in Bangkok without incident, and we wished each other happy travels.
And that, my friends, is how you turn lemons into lemonade.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Bumpin'
Alas, the day arrived when it was time to bid adieu to Vang Vieng. I have to admit that I was a little sad to go. I would have enjoyed a day of tubing, and despite the fact I kept running into obnoxious Americans who make it hard for me to travel because they give others such a bad impression, there were plenty of fun, tame people as well.
We booked the VIP bus to Luang Prabang the night before after toying with the idea of taking the night bus. The guy from the tour office seemed to think the day bus was better, and the Scot was keen to see the countryside. So, just before 10am, the van came to pick us up. Twenty people crammed in and two Israeli girls held up the whole van because they wanted to get baguettes (and apparently one wanted extra time with the love of her life that she had just met at the river).
We finally got to the bus and were the last load of people, leaving some terrible seating options. The Scot and I ended up having to sit in the very back of the bus, squashed next to two of the Israeli girls. As we pulled out, it became immediately apparent that the air-con wasn’t much more than a weak fan, lightly blowing hot air. Then after two minutes of serious driving, the bus stopped. One of the Israeli girls ran back, frantically shouting at her friends. She ran off the bus. No one knew what was happening. All five girls were on and off the bus. Then the girl sitting next to us told us that her friend left her passport at the guesthouse. The English guys in front of us asked, “Is that the same girl that held us up before?”
The answer? YES.
Ugh.
A tuk-tuk came and took them away. Their friend said that they were going to get on the bus tomorrow, but our bus never moved. It just stayed there…for forty-five minutes until they came back. The bus ride was already too long, and we had only driven two kilometers.
Over the next seven hours, the bus bumped, rattled, and swayed through the mountains. I clung to the handle on the seat in front of me the entire ride because we were bumped out of our seats so much. I even had to close my eyes numerous times to avoid seeing how close we came to the edge of the narrow road as we passed large trucks on the curves.
The Scot questioned our choice to take the day bus because it was so terribly uncomfortable and unbelievably hot. I, on the other hand, believe that daylight made it the better choice. I’m not sure I’d want to be on that bus at night with the narrow road and the sharp turns…and the lack of light.
After what felt like an eternity, we made it to Luang Prabang. Everyone was relieved. We piled out of the bus faster than any bus load of kids I’ve ever witnessed (and I make them race off of my bus). It was such a relief to be somewhere NOT on that bus…and that’s when our housing adventure began.
We booked the VIP bus to Luang Prabang the night before after toying with the idea of taking the night bus. The guy from the tour office seemed to think the day bus was better, and the Scot was keen to see the countryside. So, just before 10am, the van came to pick us up. Twenty people crammed in and two Israeli girls held up the whole van because they wanted to get baguettes (and apparently one wanted extra time with the love of her life that she had just met at the river).
We finally got to the bus and were the last load of people, leaving some terrible seating options. The Scot and I ended up having to sit in the very back of the bus, squashed next to two of the Israeli girls. As we pulled out, it became immediately apparent that the air-con wasn’t much more than a weak fan, lightly blowing hot air. Then after two minutes of serious driving, the bus stopped. One of the Israeli girls ran back, frantically shouting at her friends. She ran off the bus. No one knew what was happening. All five girls were on and off the bus. Then the girl sitting next to us told us that her friend left her passport at the guesthouse. The English guys in front of us asked, “Is that the same girl that held us up before?”
The answer? YES.
Ugh.
A tuk-tuk came and took them away. Their friend said that they were going to get on the bus tomorrow, but our bus never moved. It just stayed there…for forty-five minutes until they came back. The bus ride was already too long, and we had only driven two kilometers.
Over the next seven hours, the bus bumped, rattled, and swayed through the mountains. I clung to the handle on the seat in front of me the entire ride because we were bumped out of our seats so much. I even had to close my eyes numerous times to avoid seeing how close we came to the edge of the narrow road as we passed large trucks on the curves.
The Scot questioned our choice to take the day bus because it was so terribly uncomfortable and unbelievably hot. I, on the other hand, believe that daylight made it the better choice. I’m not sure I’d want to be on that bus at night with the narrow road and the sharp turns…and the lack of light.
After what felt like an eternity, we made it to Luang Prabang. Everyone was relieved. We piled out of the bus faster than any bus load of kids I’ve ever witnessed (and I make them race off of my bus). It was such a relief to be somewhere NOT on that bus…and that’s when our housing adventure began.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Tubing in the Vang Vieng
Oh Vang Vieng, I had you all wrong! My first impression was such a bad one (but can you really blame me?). Today was fantastic! Tubing in a cave? Driving through the beautiful countryside! Kayaking down the river with limestone mountains surrounding us. It was magic.
And the tubing bars? So much fun. Sure I kayaked over, but I see the appeal. Hanging out on the river at the make-shift bar of your choice? Hard to beat. Add to the zip-line swings operated by 8-year-old boys, and you’ve got a blast on your hands. Yes, I was fully aware that two 8-year-olds were in charge of my safety, and yes, I did feel a little leery of it. But it all worked out. I’m alive. Besides, it not like I went on the death slide. You have to draw the line somewhere.
Anyway, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. I had you all wrong. Well, not completely. You have to admit that there are a bunch of douchebags here, and they all seem to be Americans—specifically the a-holes that annoyed everyone in the Friends bar tonight as they loudly questioned where they could find some weed, discussed the assets of all the girls they planned to poke tonight, and complained about all the food they ordered, as well as the quality of the waitstaff…but that’s not your fault.
I guess I'm just trying to say...Vang Vieng, you're alright with me.
And the tubing bars? So much fun. Sure I kayaked over, but I see the appeal. Hanging out on the river at the make-shift bar of your choice? Hard to beat. Add to the zip-line swings operated by 8-year-old boys, and you’ve got a blast on your hands. Yes, I was fully aware that two 8-year-olds were in charge of my safety, and yes, I did feel a little leery of it. But it all worked out. I’m alive. Besides, it not like I went on the death slide. You have to draw the line somewhere.
Anyway, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. I had you all wrong. Well, not completely. You have to admit that there are a bunch of douchebags here, and they all seem to be Americans—specifically the a-holes that annoyed everyone in the Friends bar tonight as they loudly questioned where they could find some weed, discussed the assets of all the girls they planned to poke tonight, and complained about all the food they ordered, as well as the quality of the waitstaff…but that’s not your fault.
I guess I'm just trying to say...Vang Vieng, you're alright with me.
Friday, February 12, 2010
MTV Spring Break Laos: Vang Vieng Edition
A few weeks before my trip to Laos, we were in the Golden Triangle, which is the area where Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar (Burma) meet. It also was the place where opium was grown and smuggled for decades. While there, I read an article about the budding tourist market that was Laos about ten years ago. What did I learn? That people went to Laos (Vang Vieng in particular) for cheap drugs—specifically for opium. Visions of seedy opium dens danced in my head and made this goody-two-shoes slightly uncomfortable with the prospect of coming to this place alone (or at all for that matter).
Also while on that little jaunt to the Golden Triangle, we took a quick boat trip over to the Laos border where Diane and I enjoyed a beer and checked out a poster given to the bar by the Laos Ministry of Tourism to help educate foreigners on appropriate behavior in Laos. It was covered with somewhat satirical, yet alarming, cartoons depicting inappropriate behavior while in Laos. The poster covered such topics as conservative dress, no touching monks, feet belong on the ground (which is something I might want to include on my tours, and the always necessary cartoon depicting a guy overdosing on heroin while his girlfriend stumbled around with a huge bong in her hand. Just say no, kids.
I couldn’t help but ask myself what I was getting myself into. I did my best to shrug it off and convince myself that things had changed and laws had strengthened in the country over the last decade, but I was still concerned. One saving grace so far in my journey was that the three people I had encountered on my way to Laos shared my feelings, giving me reason to believe that I wasn’t going to walk into Marki Post’s Lifetime Movie, “Chasing The Dragon”.
The day came (not quickly enough, I might add) for us to hop on the bus to Vang Vieng. We waited dutifully at our guesthouse, waiting to be picked up, but no one came. We asked the owner, and he assured us that the van would be there to pick us up very soon. Finally, at thirty minutes past the bus departure time, the van came to pick us up. The Scot and I loaded our stuff and settled in for what we thought would be a long journey. Suffice it to say that we were a mixture of surprise and shock (and a tiny bit embarrassed) when the van drove half a block away to the bus that was waiting right around the corner.
Seriously? The bust was fifty feet away from us the entire time, and no one bothered to fill us in on that little fact? We held up the entire bus because the bus company needed to ensure that the van driver had a job?
We boarded the bus and found a seat. As we settled in for our five-hour ride, I looked around the bus and immediately felt out of place. Not only was I probably the oldest person on board, I was probably the most square (next to my teetotaling Scottish friend, of course). At our first break, the Scot struck up a conversation with an Australian girl who was returning to Vang Vieng after a quick visa run. Apparently she loved the place so much, she had been there for two months. You may be asking yourself, what did this lovely girl do with her time? Enjoy the stunning scenery? Hike the limestone mountains? No, don’t be silly. She got trashed every day at the river, and she was on a mission to make sure she had time to do it again today.
Upon discovering that I was an American, she quickly started quizzing me on schools. She was planning on a semester abroad and couldn’t decide between University of Florida in Miami or Gainesville. When I asked her course of study, she informed me that all she was really looking for was a good party scene and some beach time. She purposely chose spring semester because it was essential that she be there for spring break. For a brief second, she expressed interest in Boston, but I crushed that dream when I explained that Boston is cold and the beach isn’t a welcoming place until July.
And she is just an example of the many people with whom I was sharing this ride. I have to admit that while I never enjoyed a spring break experience at the beach, I’m not sure that I would have wanted to be there in the first place. And, in that moment, I was pretty sure that I was on my way to my own personal version of hell.
The bus pulled into town around 3pm, and we ended up sharing a tuk-tuk with our Aussie friend and a group of very spoiled American youths (and I know this makes me sound old, but I am…what is up with the entitlement?). The Scot and I quickly escaped our companions and searched for a place to stay, preferably on the quiet side of the river. We ended up choosing a very basic bungalow for a very cheap price.
Once in our new home, we quickly changed clothes, as our plan was to go tubing. On our way to rent tubes, we got sidetracked by the possibility of taking a tubing/hiking/kayaking trip the next day. Since we only had an hour and a half for tubing that afternoon, we decided to can the idea altogether and wander around town. While out and about, I was the victim of a scornful look from a local woman. Although I was wearing a swimsuit under a sarong, my shoulders were bare, and this was apparently unacceptable to her. I have to admit I was a little surprised by her horror, considering there were girls where string bikinis, out of which their assets were hanging. Compared to them, I was a nun.
That night, we found ourselves in one of the many bars that plays endless reruns of Friends. I camped out there until I was tired and made my way back to the bungalow. As I was walking down the street, I saw a local family enjoying a night of karaoke. It took all I had to not ask if I might join in (and continue with my quest to sing karaoke in every Asian country I visit), but I got shy…and that turned out to be my only opportunity.
The journey home continued, and as soon as we got into our bungalow, we discovered the reason for the cheap accommodations. We had unwittingly found ourselves on the noisy side of the river. Dance music blasted from several different bars all night long. The party didn’t stop until 5am, and I was never so happy for that hour of sleep. Thank you Vang Vieng.
Also while on that little jaunt to the Golden Triangle, we took a quick boat trip over to the Laos border where Diane and I enjoyed a beer and checked out a poster given to the bar by the Laos Ministry of Tourism to help educate foreigners on appropriate behavior in Laos. It was covered with somewhat satirical, yet alarming, cartoons depicting inappropriate behavior while in Laos. The poster covered such topics as conservative dress, no touching monks, feet belong on the ground (which is something I might want to include on my tours, and the always necessary cartoon depicting a guy overdosing on heroin while his girlfriend stumbled around with a huge bong in her hand. Just say no, kids.
I couldn’t help but ask myself what I was getting myself into. I did my best to shrug it off and convince myself that things had changed and laws had strengthened in the country over the last decade, but I was still concerned. One saving grace so far in my journey was that the three people I had encountered on my way to Laos shared my feelings, giving me reason to believe that I wasn’t going to walk into Marki Post’s Lifetime Movie, “Chasing The Dragon”.
The day came (not quickly enough, I might add) for us to hop on the bus to Vang Vieng. We waited dutifully at our guesthouse, waiting to be picked up, but no one came. We asked the owner, and he assured us that the van would be there to pick us up very soon. Finally, at thirty minutes past the bus departure time, the van came to pick us up. The Scot and I loaded our stuff and settled in for what we thought would be a long journey. Suffice it to say that we were a mixture of surprise and shock (and a tiny bit embarrassed) when the van drove half a block away to the bus that was waiting right around the corner.
Seriously? The bust was fifty feet away from us the entire time, and no one bothered to fill us in on that little fact? We held up the entire bus because the bus company needed to ensure that the van driver had a job?
We boarded the bus and found a seat. As we settled in for our five-hour ride, I looked around the bus and immediately felt out of place. Not only was I probably the oldest person on board, I was probably the most square (next to my teetotaling Scottish friend, of course). At our first break, the Scot struck up a conversation with an Australian girl who was returning to Vang Vieng after a quick visa run. Apparently she loved the place so much, she had been there for two months. You may be asking yourself, what did this lovely girl do with her time? Enjoy the stunning scenery? Hike the limestone mountains? No, don’t be silly. She got trashed every day at the river, and she was on a mission to make sure she had time to do it again today.
Upon discovering that I was an American, she quickly started quizzing me on schools. She was planning on a semester abroad and couldn’t decide between University of Florida in Miami or Gainesville. When I asked her course of study, she informed me that all she was really looking for was a good party scene and some beach time. She purposely chose spring semester because it was essential that she be there for spring break. For a brief second, she expressed interest in Boston, but I crushed that dream when I explained that Boston is cold and the beach isn’t a welcoming place until July.
And she is just an example of the many people with whom I was sharing this ride. I have to admit that while I never enjoyed a spring break experience at the beach, I’m not sure that I would have wanted to be there in the first place. And, in that moment, I was pretty sure that I was on my way to my own personal version of hell.
The bus pulled into town around 3pm, and we ended up sharing a tuk-tuk with our Aussie friend and a group of very spoiled American youths (and I know this makes me sound old, but I am…what is up with the entitlement?). The Scot and I quickly escaped our companions and searched for a place to stay, preferably on the quiet side of the river. We ended up choosing a very basic bungalow for a very cheap price.
That night, we found ourselves in one of the many bars that plays endless reruns of Friends. I camped out there until I was tired and made my way back to the bungalow. As I was walking down the street, I saw a local family enjoying a night of karaoke. It took all I had to not ask if I might join in (and continue with my quest to sing karaoke in every Asian country I visit), but I got shy…and that turned out to be my only opportunity.
The journey home continued, and as soon as we got into our bungalow, we discovered the reason for the cheap accommodations. We had unwittingly found ourselves on the noisy side of the river. Dance music blasted from several different bars all night long. The party didn’t stop until 5am, and I was never so happy for that hour of sleep. Thank you Vang Vieng.
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