Camping Out in the Outback

Published on February 1, 2014 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

I prepared for our long weekend in Australia with a thorough Googling: first-aid for snake bites, how to recognize which spiders were poisonous and which were just enormous, and what to do if I came face to face with a crocodile (apparently, sprint away). If that seems like a bit much, it was because we weren’t visiting one of Australia’s metropolises but rather, we were going camping in Litchfield National Park.

The flight to Darwin, the capital city of the Northern Territory, was a manageable four hours from Singapore. As October is just the beginning of Australia’s roasting summer, the petite port city was bathed in dry heat and sunshine hot enough to make you squint. It’s a sleepy town that caters to adventurous tourists and features a cheerful, easygoing nightlife. We spent the entirety of our first day there, soaking in the laidback atmosphere and obtaining supplies for our weekend in the wilderness. Dinner that night was along the wharf at a restaurant called il Lido, where we sampled the native fare: kangaroo meat kebabs, freshly caught barramundi and a selection of the local bottled ales. We picked our plates clean.

Darwin is surrounded by an array of national parks, nature reserves, and conservation areas. We decided to spend our two days and two nights of camping in Litchfield National Park as it was only 100 kilometers southwest of Darwin. Including myself and my husband, we were a group of six. The two couples we were traveling with had decided to rent campervans equipped with small gas stoves, squat fridges, and narrow beds. We took a different route, opting instead to rent old-fashioned camping equipment from a local business as well as a small car. Driving along the narrow highway, I wondered what the pros and cons of each camping style would be. Outside my window was a vast tricolor landscape: red earth, spring green trees, and blistering blue skies.

Florence Falls

Our first stop upon reaching the outskirts of the park was at the magnetic termite mounds. Built by thousands of termites, these monoliths stand several meters tall and, amazingly, are oriented north-south for optimal climate control. We then took the shady, creek-side path to Florence Falls, a picturesque waterfall that spills into a plunge pool. After trekking through the high heat of the afternoon, leaping into that crystal clear swimming hole was unspeakably refreshing. Bottles of local beer in hand, we whiled away the day here as well as a short distance away at the Buley Rock Pools, a lazy cascade that links a series of natural shallow pools. Every year Litchfield National Park attracts over 260,000 visitors and though a number of other tourists (both Australian and foreign) were present, these lush sites never felt too crowded.

Campsites could be found throughout the park, each with their own set of rules and amenities. Some allow motor homes while some only allowed campervans or old-fashioned tents. Almost all sites have public bathrooms that offer clean toilets (with toilet paper!), sinks with potable water, and several showers. There is a minimal fee for camping overnight and guests are trusted to deposit their dues in locked boxes posted around the area. The grounds near Wangi Falls provided us with a three-pronged campsite perfect for our group and just as we were pulling in, we met a good omen: a wallaroo. Smaller than a kangaroo but larger than a wallaby, these gregarious creatures could be spied hopping through the brush throughout the whole park.

While the others set up a table and chairs between the campervans, we pitched our two-man tent and unrolled our swags. A nearby picnic area provided a grill for our burgers, sausages, and ears of corn, and dinner was lively. There was a call for s’mores and so we built a small fire on the sandy ground. Lacking graham crackers, Hershey’s chocolate bars, and jumbo American marshmallows, we improvised with what we had been able to find at the Woolworths in Darwin: digestive biscuits, bars of Lindt milk chocolate, and a packet of squat pink and white marshmallows sporting a thin coat of sugar. Not quite the s’mores I had growing up, but not bad.

Chopper's Den

The night was broiling and sleep was an erratic, sweaty affair. While our tent had netted windows that allowed a breeze in, the campervans were stifling. However, they were mighty helpful at breakfast. Their fridges and kitchenware were invaluable; a cooler couldn’t have kept our meat and milk from spoiling in the outback’s brutal heat and I don’t know where we would have rented pans and spatulas during our short stay.

We set off for the majestic Wangi Falls at midmorning but were prevented from our much-desired swim due to a recent crocodile sighting and so trekked to the Tolmer Falls lookout instead. It was a hot, dry hike through the bush. Sandstone and quartzite had formed blocky, colorful shapes and sharp cliff faces. Far below the viewing platform were pools as bright and clear as green glass. After a quick lunch of sandwiches, we embarked on the trail to the Cascades waterfalls, a hike with more challenging and varied terrain: dense rainforest, leech-populated streams, layers of red rock, and desert plains.

Our choice of campsite for that night, the Florence Falls area, didn’t have any barbecues but the campervans’ stovetop cookers worked in a pinch for dinner and also for the following morning’s breakfast. Not long after washing up, my husband and I bundled our gear and bid our friends goodbye. We would meet them at the airport later; there was one more thing I wanted to do in Darwin before we left.

Nestled in the center of the city, Crocosaurus Cove is home to a number of prehistorically large crocodiles, including Burt, the star of Crocodile Dundee, and I intended to swim with one. Clad in my bikini and a pair of goggles, I climbed into a mesh and plexiglass cylinder (comfortingly named the Cage of Death) and was lowered into the den of Chopper, who was over 80 years old and missing his two front claws thanks to battles with other crocodiles in the wild. Despite the thick barrier, it was impossible not to feel awed, small and extremely edible next to Chopper’s monstrous, lithe form. My pre-Australia Internet research had instructed me to fight back should I find myself caught in a crocodile’s jaws, but as I swam alongside several tons of muscled reptile, the very thought of struggling seemed ludicrous. It just goes to show that there is only so much the Internet can teach you about the world; at some point you’ve got to get out there and tackle it yourself.

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The Nature of Sri Lanka

Published on November 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

How would you describe your ideal travel destination? Tropical beaches or crisp mountains? Adventurous hikes or luxe spas? Exquisite food or cultural wonders? Even if you chose all of the above, Sri Lanka fits the bill. As it were, my friends and I decided to make nature and wildlife the primary focus of our ten-day trip around the island nation. We were not disappointed.

Sri Lanka has excellent roads and for a multi-city tour like ours, a driver was by far the best option for getting around. Our trip began at dawn in Negombo, a coastal city seven kilometers north of Colombo, where we observed the bustling outdoor fish market in action. Brightly painted fishing boats filled the green waters of the Laccadive Sea and the docks were busy with butchers expertly lopping the heads off fish larger than me. Along the 100 km long canal, groups of men and women could be spotted shaking nets to loosen tiny fish, which danced and glittered under the watchful eyes of cats and crows. When I smiled at people, they smiled back.

We drove from Kalpitiya (on the west coast and perfect for dolphin watching) inland to Sigiriya, and it was impossible to resist pulling over to sample the myriad of freshly picked local fruit. Bright hanging bunches of apples. Small, fragrant bananas. Piles of fresh pineapples, durians, and jackfruit. If you’ve never tasted a rambutan, mangosteen, or king coconut, this is the place to do it. Painted Buddhas, white stupas, and pastel-colored churches flew by our windows, but our attention was seized by the mammoth Lion Rock in the distance. 200 meters high and shot through with red and white layers of stone, the boulder can be seen for miles. Visitors climb to the summit via narrow staircases, passing by acrobatic families of monkeys, colorful frescoes, and the Mirror Wall, which once upon a time was so well polished that the king could see himself as he walked alongside it. A sudden squall hit when we were two-thirds into our ascent, but we pressed on and up through the whipping winds and pouring rain, and we were rewarded shortly after reaching the grassy top. The storm dissipated and the fog rolled back to reveal an endless, deep green landscape stretching out around us in all directions.

We spared a few hours for Kandy, a lively little city that encapsulated Sri Lanka’s easy blend of modernity and heritage. Men and women wore both western and traditional clothing. Post offices, police stations, medical centers, banks, and the public bus system all appeared readily available across the country. Yet there was a refreshing lack of a dominant fast food presence. For the next leg of our journey, our van climbed out of the tropical jungles up to the misty tea plantations nestled near the cool summits of Nuwara Eliya’s mountain ranges. Tamil women moved through the winding rows of Assam bushes with practiced ease, plucking the young leaves and shoving handfuls into the sacks on their backs. Though there are a number of smaller inns and lodges balanced on the mountainsides, I suggest splurging on a stay at the Heritance Tea Factory, which has been refurbished into an elegant hotel that retains almost all of the factory’s original 1930s infrastructure.

The next morning was crisp and sunny. Though I didn’t think it was possible, our little van climbed even higher, up into and above the clouds, where we tackled the nine km World’s End hike across the Horton Plains. We marveled at the herds of elk in the vast grasslands and the proximity of the clouds to the dense forests. The trail led to a vantage point perched on a sheer cliff drop overlooking a rolling basin ringed by mountains that lurched into the sky.

Horton Plains (1)

Although we had retained our driver, Upali, for the entirety of the trip, we couldn’t resist taking a train back down from tea country. Though not the fastest form of transportation in the country, it is without a doubt the most scenic. Our blue locomotive raced through corridors of lush foliage that would suddenly give way to views of immense valleys dotted with terraced farms and varicolored villages, surrounded by infinite waves of highlands. Sri Lanka is a rainbow of greens: emerald Assam tea bushes, pale new sprouts in vegetable patches, dark and gargantuan forests that run rampant up steep mountainsides.

In the southeastern town of Tissamaharama that night, we went to sleep early so as to rise before dawn the following morning for an all-day safari in Yala National Park. It was a long, dusty, adrenaline-fueled day spent in an open-air jeep hunting for a glimpse of a wild leopard. We were lucky enough to find one napping in the crook of a tree while locked in a hilariously quiet traffic jam of jeeps all trying to get close without disturbing the creature. For me however, the real treat was witnessing a family of elephants (including two infants) splash in the mud of a reservoir in the hot afternoon. There were a number of other animal sightings and we didn’t leave the park until after sunset.

Our next destination was the southern city of Galle, a historic colonial town cradled inside the barricades of a Dutch fort. Engulfed in such picturesque scenery, it’s easy to be lulled by the waving palms and clean beaches, but the memory of the devastating 2004 tsunami lingers. Just off the coast, portions of the old road could be seen in the sparkling surf. Memorials could be found in every town and park we’d visited. Cemeteries were full of tombstones constructed from debris. Chunks of wrecked houses stood along the shore, now veiled by creeping vines. These somber markers were a reminder that behind this natural paradise was a grim and difficult past.

For our final day we again awoke at sunrise, this time to travel by tuk tuk to the harbor in Mirissa to set sail with Raja and the Whales, a tour company I found professional, knowledgeable, and friendly. They located a trio of blue whales and brought us in close without disrespecting the giant creatures’ space. Before heading to the airport we popped by the Kosgoda Turtle Hatchery, which was obliterated in 2004 and rebuilt thanks to donations. After sunset, we brought precious three-day-old turtles to the seashore and watched them scamper from our hands towards the pounding surf that called them home.

Alongside its layered history and colorful culture, Sri Lanka nurtures a rich and varied natural world: feisty fruit and serene landscapes, safaris in prairies and at sea, cool peaks and steamy beaches. We easily could have spent a week in every place we visited. I’m already planning my second trip.

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Alternative Expat Hotspots

Published on October 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

For a Friday or Saturday night out, the lure of Singapore’s expat hubs is hard to deny. The glitter of the clubs and the ambience of the pubs, the platters of bar food and the heavy steins of beer, the loud music and the reflection of the lights on the river’s surface… Unfortunately, it is equally hard to deny the dent these hubs can make in your wallet. Luckily this city has a seemingly endless amount of hidden gastronomic gems just waiting for you to explore. Whether you are looking to impress your visitors with your local know-how or are just in the mood for a less-touristy but still centrally located spot for dinner, the following suggestions are sure to make for a great night out.

Instead of Boat Quay…

When my in-laws visited a year ago, my husband took them along the glitzy strip of Boat Quay and then through the back to an open-air hawker center called BK Eating House, which sits behind the bars at 21 South Bridge Road. Though the plastic tables and fluorescent lighting didn’t impress my in-laws much, the specialty dry mee sua from the Yan Kee stall sure did. Not only do they claim to this day that it was the best meal they had during their time in Singapore, at $3.50 a bowl it was also the cheapest. And since the cost of one beer at a bar on the river will get you three beers at BK Eating House, it’s easy to forgive its artless appearance.

BK Eating House

Instead of Chijmes…

Instead of paying for expensive cocktails within the walls of Chijmes, stroll two blocks over to Standing Sushi Bar at 8 Queen Street. There are a plethora of good Japanese restaurants but I have yet to find one that rivals this lively restaurant. A stone’s throw from the Singapore Art Museum, Standing Sushi offers exceptionally fresh sashimi as well as an enormous selection of sake. Every weeknight features a different promotion (50% off sushi, sashimi, and alcohol, anyone?) but the prices are reasonable even without them. However, you will want to get there either before or after the peak dinner time as the restaurant doesn’t take reservations and the line outside can get pretty long.

Instead of Clarke Quay…

Across the river from the theme park-esque Clarke Quay, the Central Mall houses a barely marked bistro you won’t want to miss. You may have heard of No Signboard, dubbed as such because when it was a single stand in a hawker center in the 1970s, the founders simply couldn’t afford a signboard. Back then seafood wasn’t commonly sold in hawker centers but their unique crab recipes attracted much attention and today No Signboard has six branches, one of which is hidden in a corner on the fourth floor of the Central. A far cry from the original stall, this particular outlet is elegantly decorated and sports large windows that look out at Clarke Quay over the river. While you’ll have to try the famous chili crab or white pepper crab (which you buy by the kilogram), I also highly recommend the sliced mushrooms with abalone sauce over rice.

Instead of Robertson Quay…

For inexpensive wine and tasty food, it is hard to beat Wine Connection at Robertson Quay but if you’re looking for a real contender, check out the triple threat of The Foundry, Baan Khun Nai, and The Burger Office. All can be found sharing the same space at 18 Mohamed Sultan Road, the atmosphere of which can only be described as beach-like, eclectic, and relaxed. The Foundry prides itself on its choice selection of Belgian craft beers (I suggest a pint of the Kronenbourg 1664 Blanc). Baan Khun Nai serves up classic and succulent Thai food. And The Burger Office, as expected, specializes in straightforwardly delicious beef burgers. Mix and match as you please!

It’s easy for smaller restaurants to get overshadowed by the bright lights of the Quays but these homegrown alternatives make for a more authentic (and generally less costly) meal than what the tourist hubs tend to offer. However, they are also close enough to the parties that you can wander over after you’ve eaten, if you’re still in the mood.

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Division and Illusions in North Korea, the World’s Most Inexplicable Nation

Published on September 3, 2013 in Young & Global Magazine:

Arch of Reunification

On an overcast afternoon in August, I stood on the upper balcony of Panmungak, the main North Korean building in the Joint Security Area (JSA) of the Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), gazing over narrow, blue buildings. Dead center between Panmungak and the South Korean building called the Freedom House Pagoda, I could see the thick line of concrete that splits the two Koreas. Though we were a mere 70 kilometers from Seoul, it felt like we were on another planet.

Miss Choi, our tour guide, appeared at my elbow. She was a curvy North Korean woman in her thirties, but beyond that I won’t describe her or provide her real name lest I unwittingly get her into trouble. With a placid smile on her face, she led our group down the stairs, out of Panmungak, and across the quiet compound to the squat cyan buildings.

The JSA is used by the two Koreas for diplomatic engagements, but on that day it was devoid of life, save for stiff soldiers and nonchalant sparrows. Since visitors are forbidden from interacting with tourists from the other side, the area operates on something of a timeshare. As we explored the sparse negotiation space that sat squarely on the demarcation line, Miss Choi recited historic moments and explained that the main obstacle to the reunification of the Korean peninsula was the posting of American troops at the DMZ.

“Our country is divided. But maybe one day soon you can have breakfast in Pyongyang, lunch in Kaesong, and dinner in Seoul,” she finished wistfully.

The members of our tour group glanced at each other, but no one moved to put forth a conflicting opinion. Two days earlier, in the Beijing airport, a representative from Koryo Tours had warned us to expect such discrepancies. North Koreans have a genuine pride in their country, he had explained, and though they know Westerners have different versions of their country’s history, they simply believe we’re lying. Or ignorant. After all, why would our version of history be truer than what they’ve been told their whole lives? Would you believe a North Korean who told you Abraham Lincoln was a Nazi?

It was in Beijing—one of only four airports in the world that can fly you to North Korea—where I had first met the small group of adventurous travelers who would be my companions on this trip. I knew nothing about these people except that they were expats working in Singapore, and their curiosity about North Korea matched my own. It must, because we would be among only 3,000 or 4,000 non-Chinese tourists to visit the reclusive nation that year. For me, although I had moved to Singapore a mere five days earlier to reunite with my fiancé after a six-month separation, I was curious enough to take this trip he had planned, even if wasn’t quite the romantic reunion vacation I was expecting.

The representative from Koryo Tours had also given us guidelines for our visit. We were not allowed to photograph construction sites or people, and we were forbidden from wandering away from our guide. While it wasn’t impossible to sneak photos or creep off to out-of-bounds areas, Miss Choi had the power to restrict the planned activities for our trip if she judged our group to be unruly. Most importantly, later she would be the one to pay for any and all of our misbehavior. So we mindfully asked whether pictures were permitted and followed her like quiet schoolchildren.

View of Freedom House Pagoda and Joint Security Area from North Korean side

Freedom House Pagoda and Joint Security Area viewed from the DPRK side of the DMZ

A short drive from the DMZ, a military lookout point stood at the peak of a hill, which our secondhand tour bus struggled to climb. Inside the little building, a North Korean colonel in full uniform gave us a history lesson in front of a large painted map. He then gestured for us to follow him outside, where a row of telescopes allowed us to peer out at the peaceful, grassy landscape, riddled with silent landmines. Beyond a tiny wall marking the border, military bases flew South Korea’s flag. I only half-listened to the colonel’s stilted English; I was skeptical of the veracity of his facts and more interested in studying his appearance. With his large cap and swamp green military garb, he resembled a Chinese officer from the 1960s. I noticed that his bars of honor were actually a multicolored square of plastic, and I wondered if he had seen a picture of a decorated official and endeavored to appear equally important. Affixed directly above this facsimile was a red, flag-shaped pin that featured Kim Il Sung’s smiling face.

Every adult I had seen in North Korea sported this red pin on his or her left breast, sometimes accompanied by a second red pin featuring the image of Kim Jong-il. Miss Choi said the pins were worn simply out of a desire to show respect; there was no mention of compulsion. However, I later learned that the law used to be: forget to wear your pin once, receive a warning; forget it a second time and face punishment.

Much like the colonel’s illusion of military honor, I discovered that the nearby city of Kaesong was also designed to appear more than it was. Houses of solid concrete had brick patterns painted on their exteriors, and concrete walls sported motifs to mimic stone ones. Kaesong was the only city to change control from South to North Korea because of the Korean War. As such, it is the southernmost city in North Korea. Its name translates to “Triumph”, but it is a town of worn buildings and of families fractured by the 38th Parallel.

Atop a hill, a towering bronze figure of Kim Il Sung gazed down a steep road into the little city. Despite the fact that we arrived into Kaesong at 5:30pm and rush hour was in full swing, the streets were scantily populated. As we would for all dinners on the trip, we ate in a nice restaurant filled with only Western tourists, and it soon became apparent that the locals didn’t make a habit of eating out. We slept in a traditional inn, sleeping under mosquito nets in the heavy darkness of North Korea’s nightly nationwide blackout.

The following day, the drive from Kaesong to the capital of Pyongyang took two hours on Reunification Highway, which had no lane lines, but was peppered with guarded checkpoints. Except for the occasional truck or other tour bus, the highway was empty. Tunnels were devoid of lighting. Cornfields lined the road, as well as flat plains in all shades of green and brown merging into distant mountains. We passed tanned men and women on bicycles, brown cows tied up to graze, children bathing in shallow rivers. It’s easy to forget in such a strange country –especially one so ideologically at odds with the Western world – that people are just people everywhere.

A plush pink charm of the whole Korean peninsula swung from the bus’s rearview mirror as Miss Choi gave us lessons on her country’s history and culture. Once again I was struck not only by the bizarre interpretations of historical events but how much weight they still carried in the present. It seemed to me that the people of North Korea obsessively clung to past slights and lorded over past triumphs, while the rest of the world had long since moved on.

The history North Koreans tell is an idealistic, childlike version of the world. Their heroes are brave, their leaders compassionate and wise, their enemies evil and uncomplicated. The big questions have been answered unambiguously. But looking out over the serene landscape I wondered about the people starving somewhere hidden from view. Did they still love their country, their Eternal President, their Great General? Or was the illusion shattered? Were they heartbroken?

Before arriving in Pyongyang, we pulled over to admire the Arch of Reunification, which straddled the highway itself. The concrete monument consisted of two women in traditional Korean dress—one representing the North and the other the South—leaning forward to jointly uphold a sphere emblazoned with the complete land of Korea.

Looking at the Arch, I didn’t know where the future would take this inexplicable nation, but I knew it wouldn’t be to the joyous and peaceful reunification the North Koreans were convinced was imminent. I also knew that anything I said to the contrary would at best fall on deaf ears, and at worst endanger the safety of our sweet-natured tour guide, so I simply took a photograph of the monument before we moved on.

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Top Five Travel Tips for Exploring Asia

Published on August 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

There are plenty of reasons why Singapore is a great place to live. One of them is how easy it is to leave for a short break. Changi Airport has consistently topped lists of the world’s best airports for the last two decades and those with residency status move through it very quickly, but there are still a number of obstacles that can trip you up when setting off to explore Southeast Asia. To help you avoid my mistakes and oversights, here are my top five tips for newcomers to Singapore who are looking to discover the riches of the continent around us.

Number One: Visas!

Visa costs and requirements vary greatly throughout Asia, so right after (or even before) you buy your flight tickets, hit the website of your destination’s embassy to figure out what you’ll need. Many nations surrounding Singapore will allow you to buy an On-Arrival Tourist Visa but some require a Letter of Approval from the local embassy to do this and most can only be purchased in American dollars (and sometimes only in new bills). There can also be extra requirements, like a minimum number of blank passport pages. Bottom line: do your research in advance and prevent a debacle at the airport.

Number Two: Know the Health Risks

Malaria is a year-round risk throughout Southeast Asia but it needn’t prevent you from going where you want to go. A general physician in Singapore can usually provide anti-malarial tablets but be aware that you have to start the regimen a few days before your trip, so give yourself enough time. However, the most frequently reported illness among visitors to Southeast Asia is the highly unglamorous traveler’s diarrhea. While abroad, one of my greatest joys is trying dishes in restaurants frequented by the locals but this can admittedly be risky. So, there are a few rules of thumb to keep in mind when it comes to chowing down. Don’t drink or brush your teeth with the local water. Be sure to check that the seals of any bottles of water you buy are unbroken. Don’t eat raw fruits or vegetables as they have likely been washed in the local water; the exception is fruit you peel, like bananas or oranges. Be wary of how foods with a high risk of salmonella—like eggs or chicken—are prepared; opt for fried instead of steamed or boiled if you’re uncertain.

Number Three: Take More Cash than You Think You’ll Need

I will be the first to confess that I rely far too much on a credit card and not enough on cash. Take my word for it: it is no fun wasting your precious time in an exotic paradise desperately searching for an ATM. But even if you’re not me and you calculate your trip’s expenses down to the penny and take out enough foreign notes in advance, there will always be an unexpected cost somewhere down the line. For example, did you know you need to pay an airport tax in cash when you leave Indonesia?  So, in addition to taking way more money than you need, I would also suggest you don’t exchange your extra baht, dong, or kip until you’re safely back on Singaporean concrete, where at least the fees will be in a currency you’re used to.

Number Four: Invest in a Necessities Kit

It’s easier to have a little travel bag of necessities on hand instead of rifling through your cabinets for 100ml toiletries before every trip. Ideally an essentials kit for Southeast Asia should include: sunscreen, insect repellant, Purell, painkillers, band aids, anti-malarials, Pepto Bismal or the equivalent, wet wipes, toothpaste, toothbrushes, extra medication and miniature versions of your normal routine (shampoo, face wash, shaving cream, etc.). And don’t forget the number one necessity: tissues. Much of Southeast Asia operates on a system of BYO toilet paper and you will come to cherish the packets of tissues you cleverly brought with you.

Singapore’s pharmacies are pretty good about carrying travel-sized toiletries, which were once a convenience and are now a necessity if you want to step foot on a plane without checking a bag. And when you’re only flying a few hours to stay for a few days it is worth neither the hassle nor the cost to check a bulky piece of luggage. Pack sparingly and smartly.

Number Five: Relax

I’ve heard a lot of scary stories about Asia from a lot of people who’ve never been. I actually had a friend frantically warn me about a disease in Papua New Guinea that causes a person to laugh themselves to death. A quick internet search revealed that this disease is transmitted via cannibalism, which I don’t generally practice. What I have found from traveling around Asia is a lot of breathtaking sights, delicious food and friendly people.

There has yet to be a country I regret visiting. Sure, the salmonella poisoning in Myanmar wasn’t all that fun, but the Burmese were some of the most genuinely sweet people I have ever met. It’s up to you what you get out of travel. Not every trip will go completely to plan (actually I can guarantee that almost none of them will) but if you keep an open mind and an adventurous spirit, there also won’t be a single trip you don’t learn something about yourself from.

Happy travels!

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The Illusion of Pyongyang

Published on July 1, 2013 in the Singapore American Newspaper:

“You will leave with more questions than answers,” the representative from Koryo Tours said brightly. We were in a café in the Beijing airport, one of only four airports that will fly you into Pyongyang, and we were all listening closely as she instructed us on what not to do after arriving in North Korea.

“Do not insult or criticize the Kims, even as a joke. North Koreans are genuinely very proud of their country and they revere their leaders. Ask before you take any pictures. It’s up to your Korean tour guides how much you’re allowed to see and if you’re sneaking photos you’re not supposed to, they can easily restrict where you go. Plus, you might get them into real trouble if you break the rules. The better behaved you are, the more they’ll trust you and the more you’ll be allowed to do. No wandering off on your own or leaving the hotel unsupervised. Though I doubt that will be much of a problem… The Yanggakdo Hotel is on an island in the middle of the Daedong River.”

Almost every tour in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) is coordinated by the government-run Korean International Travel Company and it was their guides who met us at Pyongyang’s barebones airport to escort us to this infamous hotel. It is one of the city’s most well-known and these days it is regularly packed with Chinese and Western visitors, including a smattering of Americans. The DPRK began allowing American passport holders to obtain tourist visas in 2010 and since then, the country has become an intriguing destination for adventurers longing to escape the beaten path. However, Americans are still a minority among tourists and as North Koreans are regularly coached in the evildoings of the “U.S. imperialist aggressors,” Americans more than other visitors tend to be peppered with questions by their guides.

Nowhere is this anti-Americanism more apparent than in the rusting hull of the USS Pueblo, which is an American technical research ship captured in 1968 and currently docked in the Pyongyang Harbor as a floating museum. Visitors are treated to a brief film that summarizes the 11-month foreign policy debacle that followed the vessel’s capture and proudly concludes that after President Johnson begrudgingly issued a letter of apology, “the world unanimously agreed that the reign of the U.S. Imperialists had been shattered.” As I clambered off the ship, I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I had learned anything at all about the USS Pueblo incident in school. As far as I could tell, the issue had been mostly forgotten about. Despite the regular teaching of American and Japanese atrocities, as we were led around the sparse city our group was frequently hailed by uniformed children calling out cheerful greetings in English. Thanks to its mandatory, free education the DPRK has one of the highest literacy rates in the world.

Arirang Mass Games

Not only are all citizens taught basic English in school, adults are highly encouraged to continue their education at Pyongyang’s central library, the Grand People’s Study House. We peeked in on a class and saw one of the only computers we would see in the country (running Windows 97) with an example sentence on the monitor that read: “How much do these weapons cost?” These undertones of discontinuity are what make Pyongyang a captivating and slightly unnerving travel destination. Just when you start to think you understand the city or presume that it’s not so different from other major cities after all, you find nothing is as it seems. You realize there isn’t a single advertisement anywhere. Or you notice that what appeared to be a stone wall is actually solid cement with a stone motif painted on by hand. Or you grasp that a capital city of this size should have a far larger population bustling about. All of this adds up to give Pyongyang the atmosphere of a movie set, especially since much of what you are allowed to see has been carefully prepared or vetted in advance.

As in all stores, factories, concert halls, subway cars, and so forth, in the classroom at the Grand People’s Study House a pair of portraits kept watch over us all. Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il are omnipresent. Every monument depicts one or both of them. Every war memorial makes reference to them. Every museum is either about their lives or named after them. Their faces look out at you from pins on the chest of every adult you see. Orchestral musicians at the crescendo of a performance in the Moranbong Theatre cry out an accolade to the Kims. Colossal mosaics illustrating their deeds stand tall, colorful, and clean amidst Pyongyang’s shabby apartment buildings. But undoubtedly the most spectacular tribute to the Kim dynasty is the Arirang Mass Games.

Held in the world’s largest stadium, it is described on the Koryo Tours website as “a synchronized socialist-realist spectacular, featuring over 100,000 participants in a 90 minute display of gymnastics, dance, acrobatics, and dramatic performance, accompanied by music and other effects, all wrapped in a highly politicized package.” It’s breathtaking to experience the live performance, the immensity of which videos fail to capture. 20,000 schoolchildren fill the half of the stadium opposite the audience and use colored squares to create a fluid series of background images. Meanwhile, in the foreground, endless waves of singing women, flying ribbons, marching men, multi-colored banners, children on unicycles, and at one point giant pig puppets pantomime historical events, such as how the DPRK’s military triumphed over the U.S. and South Korea in the ‘Fatherland Liberation War’ and of how Kim Jong-Il singlehandedly modernized the agricultural industry. It is a glorious, hour and a half long homage to an almost completely false history.

The Mass Games—like the rest of Pyongyang’s proud displays—reveal not only how accepted this alternate Kim-centered view of the past is but also how fastidiously celebrated and respected it is. As a tourist, there is very little you can say to alter their views. After all, would you believe a foreigner who told you that everything you learned all your life about your country’s history from your parents and schoolteachers is completely wrong? The only thing you can do is politely observe and genuinely marvel at the show. You will leave with more questions than answers.

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