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I believe that most of you are aware that Jordan and I are making a mad dash across Europe. I assume this because most of the people who read this blog are related to us, and therefore somewhat privy to our plans. In the cases when we have plans, of course.
When we were face to face with the Europe map we couldn't really help but go everywhere, and so we scheduled about four nights everywhere. Three nights in some of the places we're stopping in towards the end, and five nights in Paris, because well, it's Paris. However, we scheduled a whopping seven nights in Belgium. Because while Paris may be Paris, Belgium invented the french fry.
French fries are probably my favorite food. And when I realized that they are in fact not even French, it became obvious that we should go to their home country and pay some proper respects.
Belgium it turns out is a very nice place for reasons beyond french fries (I continue to call them french fries because even though we were in Belgium eating them and trying hard not to call them French, it's really impossible not to). They have:
- the world's greatest town square, where you can drink the best hot chocolate
- our favorite cathedral so far
- a medieval town, much of which was built 150 years ago to encourage tourism (which was a great success)
- a room in their royal palace that is covered with millions of beetle wings.
Also they have waffles. I had always thought that a Belgian Waffle was just a waffle made in a waffle-maker with deeper grooves. It turns out a Belgian Waffle is, in fact, the most delicious waffle you have ever eaten.
Also, they created the Smurfs.
What more could you want?
If you are interested in eating yourself to death, I would suggest going to Belgium. Lots of places have delicious foods, but few have so many delicious foods that when eaten in large amounts will weigh you down to the point of complete immobilization. Between the waffles, chocolate, french fries and beer I'm pretty sure you could be dead in 2 weeks, less if you threw caution out the window. We were there for a little over 1 week and I know my stomach heaved a sigh of relief when we left. In fact, we didn't go to a single restaurant in Amsterdam (our next destination) and instead ate apples and salads from the grocery store. A bit of penance for our behavior in Belgium.
4 years ago today (in MN):
3 years ago (in Egypt):
2 years ago (in Busan):
1 year ago (in Gunsan):
Today in Berlin:
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Do you recognize this place?
It looks a little idyllic.
Perhaps a little too idyllic.
Sometimes people blame Disney, or Hollywood, for making things appear too perfect. I've often found this a little suspicious, and now I have proof that it's not their fault. These are pictures of the hamlet Marie Antionette built in 1784. They look exactly like they were built from the Disney Snow White cartoon, but they were built about 200 years earlier.
Apparently modern life didn't invent wishing for a perfect world. Or trying to make one.
The Eiffel Tower is one of those mythic tourist destinations. You don't travel to Paris and skip it. However, I have to admit that the famous monument wasn't quite how I imagined it. My first glimpse was from the highway, at a distance, a glowing tower with a giant spot light roaming the sky. For some reason the giant, roving light made me think it was something from Disneyland Paris, and so discussion ensued and no conclusion was reached.
I was a bit doubtful because if it was the Eiffel Tower, shouldn't I know? Isn't something magical supposed to happen?
The next day did nothing to help put an end to the mystery. We walked around Paris for a whole day, in the rain, and I didn't catch sight of it. I mean, I don't think I had any unrealistic ideas about the Eiffel Tower, I'm no disillusioned Japaense tourist, but I did think that any entrance to the city would have led past it. How can they let you wander around for a day with no sighting? And shouldn't you be able to see it from anywhere? Shouldn't it be peaking out from the tops of the buildings wherever I look?
"Where am I?" I started to wonder, "Am I even in Paris?" It wouldn't be the first time I was confused about my location. "Maybe we're somewhere like Vienna," I thought. "Have I been to Vienna?"
My mental state was at this point confused enougth that I began to doubt the famed tower's existence. Perhaps it was just a giant conspiracy. There's the giant, glass pyramid (and how do they keep so many paintings in such an empty space?), why can't I see the Eiffel Tower?
If wasn't until our second day in Paris that someone finally pointed out the top peeking above some buildings. I felt a little thrill of something begin and I said, "We must go to it." Jordan tried looking at his map, but I delcared, "It's right there! Let's go."
For a while this method worked, however eventually it was obscured again and my doubts began to resurface. It's not really that tall, is it?
Falling back onto Jordan's method, the map eventually got us there and the tower's reappearance started that little thrill of excitement again.
I really am in Paris.
On a sunny day in July, Jordan, Karith and I found ourselves out for a punt. And no punt is complete without a picnic:
That it will give a particular relish to success, if you be successful, and wonderfully dull the edge of disappointment, if the contrary be your fate, (which all good spirits avert,) if you never take punt (for we recommend that as the easiest mode of exercise) without stowing therein a sufficient basket of ham, tongue, veal pie, stilton-cheese, bottled ale and porter, port, sherry, moselle, claret, brandy, and cigars. - London Magazine, 1828
While we went for a slight variation on what we stowed in our basket, the food definitely added a relish to our success. For it was only success that we encountered (no one fell in the water, and we didn't get lost).
I misled you a bit at the beginning when I said it was a day in July, because it wasn't just any day in July, but July Fourth. We celebrated our country's independance from the country we were punting in by remembering all the words to the "Star Spangled Banner" and singing them aloud. We sang so well, that this bird came aboard:
Jordan punts like a jungle explorer:
Karith punts like a contemplative, insightful student:
And I punt like I wish I wasn't:
However, when resting comfortably in the boat, I can pose like I mean it:
Six months ago I made a post reminiscing about my life in relation to Harry Potter. And while with the release of the last movie I would like to revisit those memories, I expressed them pretty well last time, so in honor this last and final movie I will show you picture of me in HP places.
I was lucky enough to be surrounded by Harry Potter places in the weeks leading up to the release since we spent most of our time in Oxford, where various scenes for the movies were shot, including the famous Great Hall.
Also these steps. Who knows what two HP characters met here in film HP1?
The next stop is from HP4 where the characters from the previous photo meet again and this time one of them is turned into a ferret.
This next photo doesn't particularily show the room well, but was used for different scenes including in HP4 when Professor McGonagall teaches everyone how to dance.
This last photo wasn't taken in Oxford, or even in England. But when we were visiting Versailles, the tall hedges immediately made us feel like we were in HP and Karith and I couldn't help but act it out.
That's it for the tour of my days leading up to the HP finale. And while I was suffering from some post-Potter meloncholy, and the rain in Paris didn't really help cheer me up, I find that these days I'm able to go on as if the most exciting movie event of my life isn't behind me.
This is mostly a poem for Vietnam, although some things go beyond its borders.
Goodbye money that has more zeroes than I can count. You are worse than Monopoly.
Goodbye sidewalks that are used for everything except walking.
Goodbye motorists who think honking at pedestrians for walking is a nice thing to do.
Goodbye neighbor drill, I will not miss you one bit.
Goodbye dogs who ride motorbikes. Special goodbyes to cute cocker spaniel on the pink scooter and happy looking golden retriever.
Goodbye weather that is so hot that if I stick my pinky finger out I become covered in sweat.
Goodbye evening aerobics ladies. You are braver than me to go outside in the heat.
Goodbye late night propaganda music. Perhaps if you were quieter and more subliminal your message would go across easier.
Goodbye Septimus, my pet spider, who has kept me company and eaten all the bugs on the window.
Goodbye green tea, you are delicious. I hope to see you again soon.
Goodbye bread that molds in a day. I think I may have accidentally eaten you. But I feel okay.
Goodbye spicy spicy, will I find you in Europe?
Goodbye wild and crazy hair. Probably you will not be so fun when it's not 110% humid. Also, the birds may not like it quite so much.
Goodbye Vietnam. You may not be my favorite place, but you are in ♥ Asia ♥, so that's something. Also, you sell nice scarves.
First of all, I would like a prize for my ability to spell 'reminiscences'. It's a skill I didn't know I had until now.
As our days in Asia have become more and more numbered, I've felt more and more suspended in a strange limbo. First watching my parents sell off all their things, pack, and then leave us in the now empty apartment. Looking out the large window at the once busy park you can tell that everyone has "flown the coop," as they say, for cooler, more pleasant destinations. Only a few locals come out and brave the oppressive heat in what was once a neighborhood hot spot.
Our plans for the next stage in our life have become somewhat firm, a firmer plan than we've had since leaving Korea, and as they are filled mostly with excitement and very little dread, I am anxious to begin. However the plane leaves on Thursday, so I must wait. And as I am waiting I am struck by the thought that I have called Asia home for about 7 years, which in my life is a very long time. I practically look upon our coming trip to England as a homecoming since I've been there a whole two times before. So 7 years is an achievement, and the most recent of those years have been freshest in my mind. All this trekking around has prolonged our goodbye to our Sweet Home in Korea. It's been easy to see Korea wherever we've been traveling, and so the final cutting of the string has been put off by our remaining. But soon the reminders will be fewer and farther between. And our once home will be placed firmly back in our memories with all the rest.
So to indulge my feelings of reminiscence (spelled it right again!) I've found a few photos of my favorite memories of Asia.
Making friends after hiking the mountain; Korea.
Lake Eunpa and the beautiful cherry blossoms; Korea.
Enjoying the view and the tea in Taipei, Taiwan.
Magical poses in Angkor Wat, Cambodia.
Somewhat scary parrot attack in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
Yes, Asia, you have touched my heart.*
*Tomorrow I will have a special goodbye just for Vietnam.
Our days in Asia our numbered, 4 to be exact. And the next stop is Europe. The following plan is what happens when you are confronted with a map of many places you have imagined, yet never been to and have to decide which ones to visit.
It still looks manageable when you look at it like this. Everything in Europe seems trickily close together and so you make the above plan. Then you put in on the calendar and realize that we were in Southeast Asia for 7 months and saw 3.5 countries. And now we are planning to see 12 countries in about 1.5 months. Hopefully we will not die from exhaustion. Likely at the end we will sleep for 1 week.
A few more notes on the trip. We are actually flying to England on Thursday where we will spend a week traveling aimlessly, seeing a few people, possibly Jordan's sister if she sees fit to respond to our emails. Then we are spending two weeks at a Christan community in southern England. After a few days visiting some game developers in Cambdridge for a Game Jam we will be starting our trip to continental Europe on what looks to be July 18th. We were really hoping to continue overland from Istanbul to Amman, Jordan, our final destination, but it looks like traveling through Syria is an unlikely possibility. Upon arriving in Amman in the middle of September we plan to stay put there, perhaps until summer time.
And amazingly that is our life plan beyond just tomorrow, which should make my mother rest a bit easier.
The last installment of our Asia journey. Next stop: Europe.
I have finished my much anticipated Cambodia scrapbook. Much anticipated mostly by me, and then by the people who read about my failed Vietnam book. This is my favorite book I've made so far mostly because we had such nice photos and I figured out how to make realistic glitter. And it's glitter even Mom approves of because it leaves no mess.
Waking up in the village of Sungai Batu, at the Southern tip of Pulau Pinang, Malaysia, is the same every morning: you wake up with the sound waves that call the faithful to prayer. The prayer, if you are not Muslim, is optional, but the waking up is not: Sungai Batu is small, and every bedroom in every residence inside the village lies within easy striking distance of the loudspeakers mounted on the central mosque's minaret.
Sungai Batu at sundown.
And so it was for us, every day for a week. Then something odd happened, on the last day of our stay. That morning, as the final verses of the Adhan faded and I rolled over to renew my slumber, another sound caught my ear... a strange sound... a sound that seemed to clash with the first. I sat up, and turned my head to listen. It seemed as if this new sound were also coming from the mosque, just as the call to prayer had done... except... except...
Except the sound was the sound of Justin Bieber's voice, singing "baby, baby, baby, oh!"
I am the kind of person who easily waxes nostalgic for times gone by... I romanticize bygone eras of exploration and discovery, and allot most of my daydreaming time to imagining myself as a daring globe-trotting archeologist born about two hundred years ago.
I also indulge my nostalgia with literature. As I traveled through Malaysia, for instance, I spent some time reading a bland contemporary account of the overarching history, but spent a good deal more time lost in the pages of a nineteenth century travel diary penned by a woman named Isabella Lucy Bird. Not content with the expectations for her gender in Victorian England, Isabella set out with her "Gladstone bag and canvas roll" to visit America when she was twenty-five, and spent the rest of her life crisscrossing the globe, from Morocco to India, Turkey to Japan. She ended up funding her adventures by publishing her detailed letters and diaries, which remain some of the most insightful travel writings available from the period.
Isabella Bird photographed in Tibet, a few years after she traveled Malaysia.
When Ms. Bird came to Malaya by steamer in 1878, British colonies had been established on the islands of Penang and Singapore, and the peninsula's outline had been roughly mapped; the interior space however, was nothing more than a black hole as far as most Europeans were concerned, and the peninsula itself was still referred to by the name Ptolemy had given it sometime in the second century C.E.: "The Golden Chersonese."
Ms. Bird set out for Malaysia from Hong Kong, then steamered her way to Saigon and Singapore before approaching the mysterious peninsula itself. This is where I was in my reading the night before I woke up in Penang to Justin Bieber's voice.
No horse for me, but a 'moto' proves the next-best way to traverse Penang.
Romantics like myself, comparing our experiences to those of people like Isabella Bird, sometimes complain that contemporary travel is stale. That the world has grown too small, too quickly, and that "alien experiences" are few and far between. That there is nothing new to witness, or discover on this planet. That we are living at the wrong time for "interesting" journeys.
Justin Bieber--of all people--reminds me that such claims are wrong.
Such claims are wrong because never, at any other point in history, has Isabella Bird or any other traveler been able to experience what I did in Sungai Batu. Never before, in Malaysia or anywhere else, has Bieber followed the call to prayer. We are living at a time of fantastic temporo-cultural juxtaposition, and while one can experience this juxtaposition anywhere, it is only by traveling that one starts to grasp the extent of the "mashup" that is occurring around the world, and perhaps gain some new perspective for what it all means.
An American like me, for instance, might see mosques being built in New York as a kind of "invasion." In Malaysia, though, we find a new normal: one in which mosques are everywhere and Muslims make the law. We may be put at ease to hear familiar pop music playing outside our hotel window after the Adhan, but being in Malaysia, it's impossible to ignore the notion that the Malay woman in a hijab eating breakfast next to us probably views the whole situation—from New York to Bieber—completely reversed.
A mosque in NYC.
Bieber aside, there is a deeper level at which listening to the Adhan in Malaysia is fascinating. It is fascinating because five times a day, in the heart of Southeast Asia, one can stop and listen to to the ebb and flow of Arabic verse conceived hundreds of years ago in an alien culture located half way around the world. And that is just the beginning of this country's astounding multicultural heritage. Pick a street in Georgetown or Malacca, and you've got a pretty good chance of being able to walk by a mosque (built by Malays, Arabs, or Indians), Buddhist temple (built by Chinese), Hindu temple (built by Indians), church (built by Chinese, Indians, or European settlers), and colonial fortress within the space of one or two city blocks... all of them but the fortress alive and active with worshipers.
Fort Cornwallis was present in Georgetown long before Ms. Bird. visited... the clock tower behind was built soon after she left to commemorate Queen Victoria's 1897 Jubilee.
Only fifty percent of Malaysia's population is in fact comprised of ethnic Malays... and the Malays themselves are not indigenous to the peninsula or Borneo. Ten percent of the population is indigenous, with the rest being of Chinese or Indian descent... the offspring of generations of immigrants who came to work the tin mines, plant the fields, and set up business--many of whom were "shipped in" by the British.
The citizens of Malaysia are governed by two courts: one which handles all secular cases, and everything related to the ethnic Chinese and Indian populations, and another--the Islamic Sharia court, imported from Arabia--which governs the Malays, who are Muslim by ethno-religious state definition. The majority of political power is held by Malays, while the majority of the country's wealth is held by ethnic Chinese, and the majority of laborers are ethnic Indians.
In short, Malaysia is one of the most heterogeneously multicultural countries in the world. Cultures have been colliding here for a very long time. In fact, the more I saw of Malaysia, the more I realized that--Bieber notwithstanding--I was encountering many of the same things that Isabella Bird had encountered over a hundred years ago, from the cultural juxtaposition, to the friendly people, to the lush open jungle, to the equatorial heat, to the amazing variety of delicious foods.
Having dinner with Kian--a Malaysian of Chinese descent who hosted us for two nights in Ipoh.
Most importantly, my journey was similar to Isabella's in the way that all journeys will always be similar: we both encountered something of what a particular place is like right now (which of course includes something of what it was like in the past).
As far as I can tell, the world is always changing. We gain some things, and we lose some things, but I think it's important not to be too nostalgic about the past, not to privilege getting to see an "uncorrupted" culture over getting to hear Justin Bieber play in a small town in Asia. Because those uncorrupted cultures never really existed; culture is a discussion, and we've all been having it for a very long time. I tend to agree with what Ovid said some two-thousand years ago: Omnia mutantur, nihil interit ("everything changes, but nothing is truly lost"). People like myself complain about the world getting smaller, but I think that we're humbugs and liars, because the world, if anything, is getting bigger. Go back a hundred years, and ask yourself how likely it is that you would have had the resources (or inclination) to travel out of your home country. Now ask yourself how likely it is that those villagers in Sungai Batu would have had the resources to travel out of theirs. All of us get to experience more cultural diversity now, in the twenty-first century, than we ever could have hoped to do at any point the past.
I think there is room for a mitigated skepticism in all areas of life, and I think that, in the coming decades and centuries, it is imperative that people take strong stands to safeguard the precious parts of their cultures, because there is a danger that some precious parts may be washed away. But that doesn't make the wave inherently bad, nor does it make travel in the contemporary world "boring." On the contrary: every day, all over the world, more people than ever before are coming into contact with new modes of thinking, new forms of living, new ways to be who they are, and new ways to be who they aren't... are coming into contact with people and styles and ideas that their parents never could have imagined. People are trying to figure out what to keep and what to throw out, trying to decide what's valuable and what's trash, trying to change and trying to stay the same. Sometimes it's ugly, sometimes it's violent, sometimes it sounds like a prepubescent pop singer I really wish would go away... but as I sit here in Kuala Lumpur listening to the Korean pop megahit "Nobody" play in the background, with an amazing sampling of Indian food in front of me, at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that sports a large "like us on Facebook" sticker on the wall... I am reminded that most of the time it's just messy, and crazy, and a whole lot of fun watch--and be a part of.
Social networking advertised on a city bus we took from Sungai Batu to Georgetown.
Related slideshows:
I have "finished" the somewhat pathetic second half of my Vietnam scrapbook. It's rather short, you can check it out below. A bunch of things conspired to make it less than exciting. However, I'm working on my Cambodia book right now and it is much more impressive. So you have that to look forward to :).
It turns out fried chicken is really delicious. That's why people eat it all the time.
Also, a side note, it's really hard to do consistent food photography because sometimes (mostly) you eat the food and then realize you should have taken a picture.
Moral of the story (#48): Sometimes you have to go to new places to learn something you already knew (or should have).
Yesterday we visited the Aviary in Kuala Lumpur. It was a very nice place. Also it is the world's largest aviary. We saw a lot of birds.
At one point we walked past a photo booth where you could get your picture taken with a variety of birds. There were some very cool owls that I was interested in getting my photo with, but it was unclear if the price included the owls or just the big parrots.
So we walked on and the next stop was the "Parrot Experience." Sounds promising. When we entered there was a guy at the door selling parrot food if you were interested. I am always interested in feeding the birds, and since the price was considerably lower than getting your picture taken with owls, it promised to be my excitement for the day. And I sure got some excitement; a bit more than I paid for I think.
After getting my cup of what looked coconut water, I unsuspectingly walked a bit into the Parrot Experience room, thinking I would get to pick out the bird I liked the best to feed. However, instead I was suddenly covered in parrots that flew in from nowhere, having been watching my cup of food a lot more closely than I was watching them.
Animals are rarely as nice as we think they are and here you can see the birds fighting over who gets a spot at the cup.
This one is keeping an eye on things from a nice perch.
Some more flew in to keep an eye on the action.
This one is not actually trying to eat my shirt, but using it so that he can climb closer to the action.
See how he is making some progress.
Mysterious white liquid sure is delicious.
This guy sat on my shoulder and was perhaps trying to keep the rest in line because he kept making loud bird noises right in my ear.
This one really thinks I'm a tree for climbing.
When all the excitement died down, we got a more composed picture together. During the frenzy the birds also thought Jordan was a tree and perched on his head as well. However, since I was covered in parrots and couldn't reach in my pocket for the camera, you'll just have to imagine that.
Today we ate Durian. Durian is touted as being very stinky. I have heard that hotels ban the fruit because it is too stinky. Perhaps containing it inside a room would make it extra stinky. We ate it outside and I have to say, if you think that's stinky, you really haven't smelled very much.
Most stinky thing ever: That time when we thought an animal died in the air conditioner. Dad was inspecting it and about to pull it apart when we realized it was just the neighbors cooking dinner.
Stinky rule #1: If it doesn't smell like something died, it's not really that stinky.
Korea is full of stinky food. They like to let things sit around, rot and then eat them. They liken this to cheese.
Stinky rule #2: If cheese smells like that, don't eat it. Or anything else.
A great day in Korea was the day I had revenge on everyone who fed me weird stuff. It was honest enough because I didn't realize at the time that dill pickles tasted funny. However, I guess if you've only ever eaten sweet pickles, a dill pickle would taste funny. We fed the dill pickles to Jordan's students. The students made shocked faces. I felt strangely satisfied. That was for all the fermented bits, the mysterious sea animals and giant mushrooms that I ate.
People love their stinky food. You can be sure that whatever country you visit, whatever is stinkiest will be a national treasure and someone will be very pleased to make you eat it.
Stinky rule #3: When someone says, "this is a special food," run the other way.
It should be noted that I too ate the Durian, just not as much as Jordan. It should also be noted that while the Durian is not the stinkiest, it is still quite slimy and tastes more like something I would rather not eat than something I would.
