730 days

It's been a while. A long while. An unintentional break from what was intended to be a detailed account of my travels in Asia. I've certainly told my stories to anyone who will listen. If I had a nickel for every time I started a story with, "When I was in Asia...," I'd surely cease my tiring, time-consuming career as a teacher and go back. Tonight, I set aside my papers to grade (that are already long overdue) to reflect upon the two years that have passed since I left for my Far East endeavor.

One year ago today, I strolled the beaches of Haad Yao on the exotic island of Koh Phangan in the Gulf of Thailand, counting the stars and avoiding the jellyfish bloom that washed ashore. I devoured fresh seafood, caught by the locals, while kicking back at a candlelit table in soft sand and chatting with fellow travelers.

Two years ago today, I missed a flight to Seoul, dry-heaved into a trashcan at gate A19 at Lambert International Airport, then proceeded to hyperventilate at the thought of staying in America any longer.

In these past 730 days, I've aged at hyperspeed. Throwing yourself into a land where you don't speak the language, you don't understand the culture, and you don't fit the mold, you have no choice but to grow within yourself. Issues I ran from in America, I carried with me overseas, and for the first 11 months, I kept with me, tightly holding on to my anger and resentment. Perhaps running from problems isn't what every doctor would order, but it did me a deal of good. Escaping America, I was able to view the world from a less narcissistic point. A little girl in Cambodia taught me that no matter how bad I think I have it, there are others that have nothing and still smile. While climbing a volcano (yes, a volcano) on the Korean island of Jeju, which totaled 12 miles and required 8 hours to complete roundtrip, I realized that I can tackle any challenge I put my mind and body to--even if I cry from the excruciating pain along the way. New friends taught me to trust again--that everyone has baggage and that I don't have to carry mine all on my own. I learned what it's like to be a minority and foreigner, sometimes admired for my big, blue eyes and other times scoffed at for my American roots. My Korean devils... I mean, students... showed me that American kids aren't as ill-fated as we worry them to be. Lastly and most importantly, I learned to love--despite flaws and hiccups--to love others and to love myself.

xx
hh

Air Dry

It's not unusual to walk into a friend's studio apartment in Korea to find damp undies and bras strewn across her bedroom, dripping pants from the kitchen table or socks and sweaters hanging from a multi-tiered drying rack. She will, however, excuse her mess with two simple words and a shrug: laundry day. And because you don't have a dryer either, no further explanation is needed to account for the plethora of skivvies dangling in front if your eyes while you toast to the good life with a Soju and sprite cocktail.

It's Laundry day: you have two options: morning wash or night wash. The morning--you wash your clothes before work and hang them around the room to dry, ideally, before nightfall. Nighttime--you wash them whilst at dinner (because you and cooking devices don't mix) and hang to dry overnight. Essentially you better have your clothes picked out and lined up a few days before you intend to wear them because there's no quick wash 'n dry process possible here. Do you really want to wait for those jeans to dry or can you wear them, dirty and wrinkled, one last Friday night before they start to really reek of Soju and BBQ pork?

My challenge to you then is to do a full load--I'm talking stuffed-to-the-brim--of laundry. Set up a line outside or, to avoid judgment by your neighbors, use your counters or kitchen chairs and let evaporation do the work. It's a chore that under normal circumstances (i.e. owning a dryer) is already tedious enough but will transport you across the globe, where others live day in and day out without this luxury.

See you in 12 hours when your clothes are, hopefully, air dry.

xx
hh

Do You Have Bread?

I'll never forget my proudest moment in Korea.

I asked for bread at a grocery store.

I was vacationing on Jeju Island, Korea, over Thanksgiving Break in September '10, and, in need of bread to make a peanut butter sandwich, I scoured the store for a loaf. With no success, I opted to try out what little Korean I picked up in the past 11 months on the cashier. "Bbang iseoyo?" Do you have bread, I asked hesitantly. She answered, in Korean, that they did not have bread.

And. I. Understood!

Living in Korea is sometimes like living in your own little autistic bubble--the buzzing of a foreign language in your ear creates a certain solitude that allows you to drown out the constant commotion surrounding you and simply focus on your own thoughts. While I appreciated that peace, it isn't exactly helpful for asking about the location of bread in a grocery store or explaining to your boss that the reason for your recent doctor's visit is none of her business. But that's a story for another day.

xx
hh

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Nor are we in Korea.

First stop: Bangkok, Thailand

Imagine arriving in the country you've dreamed about since you were young, anticipating an exotic scene to unfold before you: lush trees, crystal blue waters, drums beating as you walk through temple doors, and spicy noodle dishes that make your eyes water and nose run.

Two words: Let. Down.

Perhaps the locals of Bangkok took the name of their hometown a bit too literally. Ladyboys, ping pong shows? I have now stepped onto another planet.

Let me explain. We arrived at the Bangkok airport at about 1AM on a Monday night/Tuesday morning. Only having found where to stay that night on the flight out of Seoul (this procrastination became a pattern and, eventually, a problem), we wandered the airport until we found the taxi stand, where the attendants were all too familiar with the area we wished to sleep: Khao San Road. The ride was short and cheap, and with wide-eyes, my excitement grew as we approached our destination. I hesitated as I stepped out the backseat. A raunchy mix of exhaust, booze-laced vomit, and dead fish heads crept up my nostrils. A teenage boy--dressed in a skin-tight black miniskirt, hot pink push-up bra barely covered by a see-through white tank top, and the reddest set of lips I've ever seen--smirked as he strutted by. And then, with an overstuffed backpack securely strapped to my little back, I trudged down Khao San.

Khao San Road. It's loud. It's wild. It's legendary. You can't miss it. Flashing lights. Techno beats. Special cigarettes. Buckets of liquor. Cheap Chang beer. Bars crawling, spilling over with hipsters, hippies, and hoes. A man throws a green lit ball into the air, and it slowly flutters to the ground. And then there's me. Dressed appropriately for the 38th parallel in jeans and a sweatshirt, jaw half open, watching intently as I closely clung onto my purse, I thought, "This is Thailand?"

After consulting with some friendly foreigners, we opted to stay on a side street nearby: Soi Rambutri. The cheap places were booked, so we stayed at a $25/night joint with a rooftop pool, which we never swam in.

I'm quite proud to say that my bravery over the years has far surpassed my natural inclination to nervousness. The last time I felt this afraid to leave my room was Day 1 in Korea when I suddenly realized that I didn't speak or read Korean. Having a travel companion is highly recommended, someone to force you out the door and face the chaos outside.

Tuk-tuk drivers waved us down for a cheap ride around town. Women pushing carts of roasted bugs offered samples of grasshoppers and beetles. The streets of Khao San and surrounding are lined with vendors selling cotton dresses, bracelets, headbands, T-shirts, watches, lighters, wooden carvings, pad thai, cold beer, coconut milk, iced coffee, scarves--any and everything you could ever want. They are all there just for us--the tourists, the backpackers, the avoiders of growing up.

Bangkok is madness but not to be missed. Are you a fan of body sweat, perpetual dirt under your fingernails, haggling for daily needs, eating your meals with rats, constant harrassment about a good deal? How about riding in a rainbow-colored tuk-tuk on the freeway driven by a wrinkly old man with no shoes or teeth? Surely you enjoy the scent of vomit and the excitement of nearly having your toes taken off by a passing truck? Yes? Perfect. Bangkok is the place for you. No? Fine, stick to Florida.

xx
hh

So You're Going to Southeast Asia...

And you wanna know what to bring, right? And where to go. And where to not go. Etc. Etc. Etc. I'm here to help.

Here is my list of must-have's for backpacking Southeast Asia:

1. Backpack! - This might seem like an obvious answer, but you wouldn't believe the number of suitcases I saw dragging through the dirt-laced lanes of Khao San Road. Don't be that loser. Get a backpack that measures from just above your hips to somewhere between your neck and the top of your head. I've seen backpacks that have rollers and a handle, which is actually convenient if you find yourself on a flat road. Side pockets are helpful for everyday items, like toiletries and sunscreen. However, NEVER put money, credit cards, or your passport in your big backpack. ALWAYS keep those items on you (or in a safe if you have to).

2. Your Passport - Like I said, keep this puppy on you as much as possible. In Vietnam, many guesthouses actually have policies where they keep your passport until you check out (so that you pay for your room & don't trash it). So when they ask for it, that's totally normal. Also, make a few copies and keep them in your backpack and purse/manbag. It's a good idea to bring a second form of I.D. too.

3. Cash/Credit Card/Debit Card - You're gonna need back-up! TRUST ME! I lost my ONLY debit card in Thailand but didn't realize it until I'd crossed the border and arrived 16 hours later in Laos. This disaterous situation was only resolved because my travel companion found a random debit card (which we overdrafted 7 million times) in his wallet. Don't be that loser. Bring an ass ton of cash. I brought US$800. Should've brought more. The problem with cash is that if you lose it, it's gone. The problem with a debit card is that you get charged every time you withdraw money. The problem with a credit card is that I don't even think they are accepted. At ZERO guesthouses and restaurants was anything other than CASH accepted. Unless you're planning to stay at some 4-star hotels, bring the green!

So here's my suggestion:
-CASH: Bring somewhere between US$500-$1,000. Not only will you need US cash for visa at the Laos and Cambodian borders, it's the most accepted currency in the world. In fact, I never even saw Cambodian currency--primarily US. Also, bring 50's and 100's to exchange because you get a better exchange rate. 20's are okay but I'd use those at the border. You'll probably end up with smaller bills if you pass through the markets in Cambodia, but never fear, you can use them in LAX on your way back home (or if you're Canadian, nevermind).
-DEBIT CARD: Bring two. If you don't have one, get one. And get overdraft protection on it.
-CREDIT CARD: I guess you can use one at an ATM, but I can't completely confirm that. There's no handing your card over to the waiter or bartender--only your hard-earned cash-o-lah!
***Note: Call your bank/credit card company and tell them the countries you'll be in. Keep that number on you in case it's stolen.

4. Meds - Get your vaccinations. You'll need Hepatitis A and B, Typhoid, and Japanese Emcephalitis. Also, grab some malaria pills. I got mine in Korea, and they only cost about US$10. It's also going to be important to get antibiotics and antidiarrheal meds. Just ask while you're getting your shots for a prescription. Also extremely important is ibuprofen/tylenol for those brain-pulsing, mind-numbing hangovers that you'll have in Bangkok. Sure, there's more 7-11's and mini-marts just about every time you turn around, but you won't want to journey into the heat. Of course, if you have any medical conditions, bring enough for the whole trip and then some.

5. A smaller Backpack - I can bet you'll be dropping that back-breaking backpack off in your guesthouse and hitting the town. Bring a smaller packpack with you for day trips, shopping, sight-seeing. A small purse is good too for going out to dinner or bars. The more zippers the better! If you dont mind belly sweat, then grab a money belt for essentials and toss it on under your britches.

6. All-weather clothing - It's gonna rain, it's gonna shine. Bring the following: tank tops, short-sleeved t-shirts, shorts (short and knee length), leggings (for entering temples and other religious buildings), cotton dresses, comfortable sandals that aren't flip-flops (for long, hot walks), flip flops (for the beach), pair of tennis shoes, thin plastic poncho, pair of jeans, swimsuit, small hand towel, syrong, and a hat (if you're into hats). Don't dress like a hobo unless you are really cool because it's hard to pull off. It's okay to look cute while you're traveling--you'll thank yourself later for putting in the extra effort.

7. Toiletries - Ummmm, ladies? Bring your lady products as they are very hard to find when you're in a jam. A fat bottle of hand sanitizer will be your life saver, so don't forget it like I did. Pack a few rolls of toilet paper--you WILL need it. Plus, when you finish using it, replace the space with souveniers or a new cotton dress from Khao San Rd. And if you're smart (read: cheap), snatch the toilet paper from your room before you check out. Everyone does it.

8. Southeast Asia Guidebook - I recommend "Lonely Planet - Southeast Asia on a Shoestring." Although it's pricey (about $35-40) compared to other brands and a 3 inches thick, they are the experts in travel, in my opinion. Unfortunately, this gigantic edition is not as thorough as the individual country editions, but it hits all the hot spots and gives the cheapest hotels, restaurants, and best deals in the areas, which, to someone like me who was on a tight budget, worked perfectly. I'm not proud of this next statement, but I'm going to say it anyway: if you can't afford this book (or any of their individual country editions), you can get a bootleg copy in Cambodia and/or Vietnam. In fact, you can get just about any bootlegged book. We "accidentally forever borrowed" a Vietnam edition from a guesthouse in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). Oops. That book was much more detailed and included some cool info that the Bible (Shoestring edition) did not. SO, if you start your trip in Cambodia (Siem Reap) or Vietnam (anywhere), you can get a copy of LP travel books for about $1 or two. But you didn't hear it from me.

Questions? Email me at hollyannehutchens@gmail.com

Safe Travels~

xx
hh