High Noon, Bangkok

"High Noon, Bangkok."  This is what Diel and Luzi (my dear Swiss/Thai friends – see blog archives Oct 2009-July 2010...hahaha) and I have been saying to each other for nearly two years.  We began joking about meeting up in Bangkok in January 2012 when I was living in Switzerland.  The stars aligned and what started as a joke, as a “wouldn’t-it-be-fun-if...” became a real plan.

We met up in Bangkok with Diel and Luzi and some other Swiss friends who had been traveling with them as well.  We stayed in what’s got to be one of the most touristed (and tourist-y) districts in the world.  The narrow, winding streets were packed with festively light cafes, food stalls, massage houses, street vendors selling everything from fried grub (in both the figurative and literal sense) to knock-off RayBans, and drunken beach-clad tourists who acted like there were on spring break in Cancuun.  In short, very charming aside from the Phalangs (Thai for “white people”).  But, the hotel was nice and the watermelon shakes (blended frozen watermelon...why didn’t I ever do this in the summer before??) at the cafe below were divine. 

While Diel and Luzi spent more time with her family, Lauren and I bopped around Siam Square and visited some of the city’s most stunning temples.  We spent hours wandering around the vast grounds of Wat Po (Wat is Thai for “temple.”  I think it’s pronounced “vot,” but I was with a group of native German speakers, so that might not be entirely accurate.)  By the end of this trip, I will have enough pictures of temples to wallpaper a small house.

Just a Bangkok street view.

Wat Po.

One of hundreds of pictures of the inside area of Wat Po.

Many beautiful Buddhas.

Monks chanting in the evening.  Mesmerizing.

After two and a half hectic days in the city, we flew south to the beach to relax and hang out with Diel and Luzi and Sigal and Daniel. 

Arriving at the airport, trying to figure out how to get where we're going.

It was perfect.  The beach was gorgeous.  You could get watermelon shakes and cold beers at the bar and manicures and Thai massages at the massage hut.  I spent hours reading and lounging punctuated by dips in the water to jump in the waves.  Every evening after we would shower and walk into “town” to have dinner together. 

Low tide at the beach.

Book + Beach = Yes Please

Lovely ladies enjoying an "apero" on the beach.

Perfect ending to a wonderful vacation.

I got to spend another fine (that’s for you Luzi) adventure with Diel and Luzi and make two wonderful new friends, Sigal and Daniel.  They made me miss Switzerland and remember with fondness how lovely my year there was.  I got so lucky to meet the people that I did and, in addition to planning a future trip to China, am counting the days until I can visit La Suisse again. 

And, speaking of getting lucky to meet people, as we were waiting for our luggage in the airport in Bangkok on our way back from the beach, I heard someone behind me say my name.  I turned around to see Lisa, one of my best friends from high school, and her husband Ryan!!  Neither of us had any idea that the other was in Thailand, so the shock (and then glee) rendered us nearly incapable of having a real conversation.  What a delightful stroke of chance!  

In the end, it's a small world.

Unexpected

This blog post for one… 

Also, the lovliness of Hong Kong.  I spent my glorious weeks at home over Christmas doing many things.  One of them was to mentally gear myself up for sprawling Asian mega-cities. 

I’m not a big city gal.  Paris, of course, has part of my heart.  And I do have a certain soft spot for Chicago as well.  But other than that... I’d rather be with the bugs and the birds – out aways somewhere. 

And so, I expected to dislike Hong Kong.  So many people, buildings, cars, chaos.  Even though all those things were present to some extent, the city still managed to charm my socks off.  It’s shockingly calm.  I swear I never heard a car honk or a siren sound (the sound-track of D.C., Paris, New York, you-name-it).  The public transportation system is brilliantly engineered and a breeze to navigate.  The city is full of green spaces, water views, quaint cafes, and tiny art galleries.  And it has one of the most beautiful night-time skylines I’ve ever seen.  Just lovely.

I’ll fess-up here to the fact that I may have had a different experience of Hong Kong than the average Joe.  Lauren and I arrived without a guide book, any plans, and really no idea what there was to see or do.  Our only committment was a lunch rendez-vous with one of Lauren’s aunt’s former colleagues who’s from Hong Kong.  During the scrumptious lunch of sauteed pea shoots and other dishes I can’t name, Martin asked us what our plans in Hong Kong were.  We said we were hoping he’d have some advice.  He said he wasn’t using his personal driver the next day, so how about we just make an itenerary with his assistant.  We said ok that sounds fine.  Just kidding.  We said REALLY?!! That would be amazing!!  And began giggling like schoolgirls.

It was amazing.  Thanks to Martin’s unreserved generosity, we got to see places on Hong Kong island that we would have never gotten the chance to see otherwise.  We visited several breathtaking beaches whose horizons were dotted with misty islands.

We went to a rambling market that was filled with trinkets, art, knock-offs, books, watches, dragons, jade, and scarves.

We ate lunch at a small cafe and walked along this beautiful pier.

We visited an old, cozy temple by the sea (thereby starting an “oops-I-just-took-270-photos-of-this-temple” trend).

We finished the day at a vegetarian cafe in Hong Kong’s dazzelingly charming SoHo after wandering around the too-cute boutiques and even a night-time produce market.

And, if the day weren’t spectacular enough, we accidently ended up at the harbor for the nightly Lights Show.  On a scale of 1-10 it was cheesy (family joke), but fun.  Lauren took a short video that really does it way more justice than this photo.

Hong Kong was the perfect christening for the second half of this trip.  After a difficult goodbye to Adam and my family and friends, it reminded me of why I love to travel.  Hong Kong was so different from what I expected.  It surprised me.  It captivated me.  It changed the way I imagine Beijing, Shanghai, even China in general.  And, it made me excited for all the adventures and imagination-altering experiences to come.

Nice photo.  Unfortunate framing.

Fin.

I have never had the experience, at home or abroad, of walking along picturing the root structure of every weed that lines the sidewalk.  After spending the last week and a half weeding an entire organic operation, I have developed a fondness for dandilions (very satisfying main root to remove) and a deep-rooted (haha) hatred for clover.  Clover is sneaky.  With all of those connected, hair-thin roots, I have a hard time believing it's ever brought anyone luck.

That said, there is something quite fulfilling about ending a day with grimy fingernails.  Compared to applying to graduate school (which seems like a never-ending process), it's soothing to look at plot of well-turned soil and think that you have single-handedly made possible the lives of a thousand quinoa seedlings.

Incredibly beautiful quinoa plant.

Steamy, well-weeded greenhouse.

The setting made the days satisfying as well.  Mawenko (the name of the farm we were at) perches on the coast of Chiloe, an island off the coast of southern Chile.  Our hosts, Nelson and Venecia and their two too-cute children, had a beautiful house for volunteers.  

The living room of the volunteer house.

View from the table pictured above.  

On several mornings, we even got to see dolphins jumping around in the bay.  The only downside of the house was the teeeeeeny wood stove that was meant to heat the entire building.  It's the beginning of spring here.  Mornings and evenings are downright cold.  Lauren spend an un-godly amount of time coaxing our capricious stove into flame.

Looks friendly but isn't.

We got to spend a good bit of time with the family during meal times, but we also got to spend most of the evenings on our own in this cottage.  It was a relaxing balance.  After busing around from place to place for a while, it's nice to be in a place long enough to unpack and put some things on a shelf.  On a particulary rainy day, we even got to make a mosaic for the volunteers' cottage as our "work" for the day.  

 Aine and Caur in fine-form.  The hammoc in the volunteers' cottage was an endless source of entertainment.  

And I just realized that I don't actually have the mosaic pictures as they're on Lauren's camera.  You can check our her blog for a peak:  www.wanderyear.blogspot.com.

On our day off, we rode with Nelson to a nearby town and artisan market.  He told us a lot about the history of the island as we bounced along nodding and saying "Si, claro."  I think we might have been the least linguistically prepared volunteers they have ever had.  But they were both incredibly patient with our nods and ridiculous comments.  Venecia spent a good while one afternoon talking about the state of agriculture and the food industry in Chile.  She asked (mostly to be polite as she already knew how limited our Spanish is) what it was like in the U.S.  I was dying to enter into a conversation with her, but somehow ended up pantomiming "Happy Meal" in an effort to explain the marketing that's directed toward children.  "We have happy food, to the children, with small cowboy or doll!" (how I know those two words and not the general word for "toy" is beyond me).  Anyhow, back to the market.  Thank goodness we only had about 45 minutes.  Any knitter would have gone crazy.  I think I officially have an entire sheep in my pack.  U.S. Customs loves when you try to bring farm animals back in the the states.  

Me gazing longingly at wool rugs.  

One our way back to Puerto Montt from the farm, we spent a day in Castro, the capitol of Chiloe.  We had some lovely coffees and treats out and enjoyed a sunny amble around town.  It was a nice day of transition between farm life and the next adventure.  

In front (and slightly blocking) the picturesque, waterfront houses in Castro.

That's better.

I'm currently writing this from a quaint hostel in Puerto Natales, the gateway city to Torres del Paine National Park.  Lauren and I leave tomorrow morning for a week-long backpacking trip through some of the world's most stunning scenery.  It's time to pack up the netbook, set grad school work aside, and revel in mountains and glaciers (and day-dream about the shockingly easy boat ride to Antartica).

So, what should you do when things don’t happen as expected with your travel plans? Go to Argentina!

It worked so well the first time, and this time (aside from another ridiculous border crossing) it turned out fabulously as well. We took yet another epic bus ride up and over the Andes during which I took entirely too many photos.

Our first destination was Bariloche, the chocolate capitol of Argentina. Yes, that’s right. From vineyards to chocolate fountains. We indulged in some incredible truffles (and bars and gelatto...)while enjoying the Switzerland-esque mountain lake view.

We then took a bus an hour or so south to a little hippie town called El Bolson. We stayed with an adorable family and actually ended up running their hostel for a day so they could run errands. Definitely adding that one to the CV: ran a hostel in Argentina.
 

 
On our last day in El Bolson, we went to the craft market and made a series of bad budget decisions that ended with Lauren and I each having GIANT woolen ponchos and pretty sterling rings.  We also had some of the most delicious empanadas and french fries ever.

Right now, back in the grandmother’s house in Puerto Montt, Chile, I’m happy with my purchases. This poncho is snuggly and warm, and I hope the ring – whose center stone is the national stone of Argentina – will always remind me to be flexible and breezy (or at least flexible and breezy enough to remember to run to Argentina when things get bad!).
After all of these spontaneous travel changes and snafoos, it seems that we’ve finally gotten a good turn. We heard back from an organic farm/commune on the island of Chiloe here in Chile. It was my first choice farm from the beginning. I had emailed them back in June, but they’d told me that they were booked during our time here. I re-emailed them when our other farm failed. We heard back that they could have us beginning October 1. Lauren and I had to fill out a rather extensive form in Spanish about our world views, how we contribute to a healthy community, and what kind of meditation and art we practice. Somehow, despite our clunky, ridiculous Spanish, they accepted us.
I’m so pleased to get to have a farm experience. From all of our communication with this family, it sounds like we’re in for a very calm, whole, stimulating, artistic time. There may even be yoga involved. And greenhouse strawberrries. There might even be (enter fulfillment of childhood dream)...... PENGUINS!

How (not) to apply to grad school from South America, and other misadventures

I wrote a poem some time ago about how much I distrust and dislike our culture’s dependence on technology. Big Brother must have been watching me scribble away from the built-in camera on my Mac. He is now determined to make me pay the karmic price for saying, “What’s ‘tweet’??” and “I hate Facebook.”


So, hear me Microsoft Melusina, Facebook Fiend, P.C. Posidon, “The Cloud.” Mea culpa! Lo siento! Je suis desolee! Entschuldigung! I’m sorry! Please just let my computer survive and connect to the internet long enough to apply to grad school.

You may remember that the last time I took a computer abroad, a two-year-old projectile vomited on it. (For the full account – which I’m sure you want after such a lovely brief description – click here: http://troisbisous.blogspot.com/2009/09/small-preface-au-cas-ou.html). This time wasn’t quite as dramatic. Lauren and I were simply moving to the last shaded corner in the courtyard of our hotel in Mendoza when a loop of my power cord caught on the arm of a lawn chair and jerked my netbook right out of my arms. It thunked the slate patio and continued to work juuuuust long enough for Lauren and I to laugh about what a disaster it would have been if it had broken. Ha. Ha.

Fortunately – the luck in the unluck – not only was the manager of our hostel a computer technician, but his entire family was as well. I sent my Acer off with a random Tio who brought it back to me the next morning with a new 500 GB hard-drive (hello thousands of trip photos, hello). Everything’s dandy except that the entire thing is in Spanish. Windows, spell check, Skype, EVERYTHING. It’s also taken to making mystical Peruvian-esque noises whenever I do something it doesn’t like. But, it works. It’s still a capricious bugger when it comes to Wi-Fi, but it works. I just need to remember to pass everything through Lauren’s computer for spellcheck before submitting grad school applications. Helo, my nme is Briann Carpeter and I am a perfec candidat fore your vary selectiv programm. I’m smrt and I writ pomes.

Other than that rather significant blotch on the radar, Mendoza was ideal. Plenty of sunshine and wine, some of the world’s friendliest people, and an odd cat to distract us when personal statements got too boring.

The courtyard at the hostel in Mendoza.

On our second-to-last day in Mendoza, we went on a vineyard tour. Neither Lauren nor I claim to be a wine connaisseur in any way, so it was amusing when the first guide asked us if we had ever been on a vineyard tour/wine tasting. We smiled, said, “Oh, some.” He said, “Where?” “Hmmm, well, Bordeaux, Southern Germany, Napa, Sonoma, Virginia, New Zealand, Tuscany....” At this point we realized how ridiculous we sounded, so we finished with a sound “Queremos vino...mucho.” Well, said. Well, said.

We got to visit some really lovely vineyards and try some wonderful wines. At the second vineyard – an organic one that does nearly all of the work, including labling, by hand – we also got to try olives and this quince gelee that was unbelievably good. It tasted fruity and floral-sweet and had the texture of something half-way between preserves and fruit leather. You’re supposed to eat it with cheese, but I think I could have chomped down the entire brick allll by itself.

Lauren and I enjoy our first taste of Bonarda.

The charming organic winery.

Vineyards with the hazy Andes in the background.

We (sadly) left Mendoza for Santiago, where we stayed for a day (our one destination was a famous gelatto cafe) before heading south to Puerto Montt. Upon arrival in Puerto Montt we began following some very vague directions to the organic vegetable and goat farm. We got on a packed bus full of Chileans who clearly thought we were getting on the wrong bus. It was the kind of bus that doesn’t stop unless you ask it to. Lauren had to repeat “Kilometre 30, por favor!” about a million times before the bus got it. He dropped us off at Kilometre 30 in front of a small sign that said “Pte. Metri.” We took some happy-giddy pictures of our new home and began to imagine all the exciting scrambles we could have along the coastline.

Our directions told us to “go over the bridge and head up a hill toward some houses.” Which we did. In both directions. Several times. With all of our luggage. Finally we decided to head back down the hillside to La Universidad de los Lagos (I read online that they study fish migration) to ask for directions. A very kind man came out to greet us. He only spoke Spanish. “Somos perditas. Claro.” I said. (We’re lost. Obviously.) “Buscamos una granja.” (We look for a farm.) “La granja de Matias Doggenweiler, un Allemange.” (The farm of Matias Doggenweiler, a Gireman – which is what my made-up word for “German” probably sounded like.) “Sabez?” (You know?)

Miracle upon miracle, he did know. And where was the farm?? Only straight back up the hill we’d just hiked down. So, we made our way back up, found the sign, and traipsed around the property for a good 30 minutes look for...well... a farm, a farmhouse, farmers. Instead we made some nice animal friends and found several run-down greenhouses and storage sheds. The absence of any sort of welcome gave us a weird vibe. We decided to can it. Even if there were nice farmers around the corner, it didn’t seem like a place we’d want to be, especially for three weeks. We spent a couple minutes contemplating stealing the farm cat, decided against it, and hit the road.

We hiked a couple miles back to this little kiosk where we bought a Coke and some potato chips, pulled out our guide book, and re-stratagized. We took what was possibly a school bus back to Puerto Montt where we decided to stay for a day or two to regroup and figure out our next step (and shower.)

So here we sit, in a gorgeous room on the tenth floor overlooking the bay (thank you Mr. Eriks for those Holiday Inn points!!!). The sea gulls swoop incredibly close to our window. We’ve seen not one, not two, but three rainbows since noon. Our ‘clean’ clothes are drying on every available surface. The sun is setting and we’re about to open a bottle of cab. Maybe it’s just one of those times where you have to take an overnight bus, hike up a couple hills, and wander around in the rain before you get to someplace you didn’t expect to go, but can’t imagine having missed.

Ta-ta Bogota

Preparing for the expected before a trip like this is hard work enough. My clothes will start stinking, my socks will get fusty, I will often have to have wet hair. I will sleep in a cold tent, eat dehydrated food, and probably get some dizzying gastro-intestinal illness even if I take all the right precautions.

I think I spent so much time before leaving repeating things like that to myself, that I rather forgot prepare for the unexpected. (As if you ever really can...) (Also, mom, this is not the set up for anything epic, dangerous, or terrible).

In all of my preparation for this trip, I have been thinking SOUTH America. In theory, I knew I was heading to spring, but that was difficult to imagine in the 100+ degree heat in DC. When I think South America, I think sunshine, Latin beats, the Amazon. Probably true in coastal places, probably true in Bogota in the summer. Not true right now. When Lauren and I arrived at the hostel, it was barely 60 degrees and none of the buildings have central heat (or heaters of any sort). There was a fire place in one of the main rooms, but the wood was in short supply. I pretty sure we burnt an old set of bunk beds one night...

As most of you know from my near-constant harping, I am trying to finish graduate school applications during the first part of this trip. Lauren and I were very intentional about booking only hostels and hotels with wireless internet. So, when my computer refused to recognize the signal in our hostel in Bogota, I was devastated. (Though, if I had slept more on the plane, I may have been slightly less dramatic about it.) Much of what I have to do doesn't require the internet, but a lot of it does. Blogging, for one thing :)

The deal-sealer though, was the lack of heat. 62 is pleasant when you're walking around the city, hiking, or doing jumping jacks. It is less pleasant when you are sitting still five feet away from a socket for hours. I'm sure it sounds silly, dramatic, wimpy to be saying this, but apparently being warm is an important component to productivity.

Lauren and I - trying on our ultra-flexible, boho travel spirits - had emotional breakdowns. And then regrouped and decided we needed a more relaxing, warmer, less rainy environment to work in. We re-booked our flight to Santiago and left mountainous Bogota for the "semi-desert" climate of Mendoza, Argentina. In addition to being warm and sunny, Mendoza is also the wine-growing capitol of Argentina. If you have ever had a glass of Malbec, you know the delight. If you haven't, wire the cash and I'll ship you some :)

Miracle upon miracle, the internet works on my computer here. We have a lovely room with a desk and our own bathroom. The door opens onto the back terrace that has tables and chairs and a awning of blooming wisteria. If you plucked me up and plopped me here, I'd probably think I was somewhere in northern Italy.

The sun is glorious, the good wine cheap, and the rocking personal statements forthcoming.

I hope this update finds you all well. I'll leave you with some pictures of Bogota from the one nice day we had. It is really quite lovely in the sun. On the sunny day, Lauren and I took a cable car up to a beautiful church on one of the mountains overlooking Bogota. The view was stunning. She brought here pocket-sized camera and has some pictures up on her blog:

wanderyear.blogspot.com



The view from the front door of our hostel.



View from the courtyard of the upper balcony of the hostel.




The really pretty, tiled bathroom.


Courtyard.




Hostel puppy!