Post Bar trip planning

It appears that with the return to the U.S., I've all but forgotten about this blog. That's not very nice, I'll admit... so, in the interest of proving that I really am a master-procrastinator, it's only appropriate that I update this baby with my next major vacation plans. (I say "major" because I will be traveling home to the Bahamas for the holidays but that's a given and no where near as exciting as previous travels I've had.)

Following the holidays, I'll have the "pleasure" of returning to frigid Boston to take Barbri and study for the Massachusetts bar. It does has the nickname "Pass-achusetts" but I'm anal and I know I'll hole myself up in a library somewhere for the entirety of January and February madly cramming law principles that I won't need beyond that bar exam into my head. It's therefore completely justifiable that I reward myself with some crazy, exciting post-bar trip somewhere exotic before I have to return to the real world and actually be an attorney.

I've been throwing around a ton of ideas, ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous... such as, spending three weeks camped out on a beach in the DR sipping pina coladas and bringing on certain premature aging, if not skin cancer... to embarking on a worldwind round-the-world tour. Now, I haven't totally written off either of these options, but I did recently come across an alternative vacation plan that I am very seriously considering and that's spending the three weeks volunteering abroad.

Thanks to the good ol' ads on facebook, I ventured onto the website for Cross Cultural Solutions. They have a variety of different options available and more than likely I'd participate in the traditional "volunteer abroad" program somewhere in Central/South America. This way, I'd gain exposure to a new culture in a manner I have never before experienced meanwhile have the opportunity to explore a new country at the same time. It certainly appeals to my conscience, even if cost-wise it's arguably as expensive as taking a regular vacation to a third world country of your choice.

Anyway, right now I'm looking to spend the three weeks between Feb 27 and Mar 22 in either Brazil (Salvador), Costa Rica (San Carlos), or Peru (Ayacucho). I'm also half-heartedly considering Tanzania (Kilimanjaro) but I fear that the flight time and general jet lag would not make this particular option all that feasible for me. Any thoughts are more than welcome.

The best time to shop for US flights

This article offers useful advice RE: buying plane tickets courtesy of the Boston Globe.
Apparently, Mondays (starting at 3pm) through Wednesdays (presumably until midnight, although no time is given).

Dealbreaker

I was sifting through some old files on my computer when I came across an free short movie I had downloaded from iTunes a few years ago called Dealbreaker. It's about a woman who lives in NYC and she's recounting what it was about each of the men she'd dated in the past that caused them to be oh so wrong. In some cases, it's only one date and she knows immediately. And in others, she dates the guy for a while and then his fatal flaw is revealed. All in all, the film is pretty darn hilarious. I was trying to see if I could find a copy of it on YouTube so that I can share but, I've had no luck thus far. If you go to Glamour Reel Moments archive, they're teasing that they may post it soon.

Anyway, in the spirit of the movie, I thought maybe I'd take a moment and recount the dealbreaking moments for me with some of the guys I've encountered... some I've dated and some I've only considered dating... but the one thing that has held true is that for most of them it was all in what they said. (No worries, the names have all been changed to protect their identities and unless stated otherwise, they were very serious when they made the statement.)

Alex -
"I think I'd like to be a priest."
(Well, that's f*cking awesome... could you imagine me, dating a priest? HA!)

Ben -
"Real women don't have feet that big. Those shoes could only be for transvestites."
(Said while on a date with me about size 10 and up shoes. For the record, I wear a size 10 and I'm very female.)

Charlie -
"I dunno, I did cocaine last weekend and it wasn't all that bad."
(Hmmm... maybe because it destroyed all the brain cells that would tell you otherwise.)

David -
"Guess what?! Today is our two week anniversary!"
(Oh barf! Who the heck celebrates two weeks! I admit, I felt a little bad saying, "well happy anniversary but, we're done now.")

Edward -
"I LOVE THE ROCK! I WANT TO BE THE ROCK!!"
(Just for clarification, he meant the wrestler not the movie. Not exactly my idea of a role model.)

Felix -
"I am constantly thinking about the political implications of my actions."
(Really? ALL your actions? That could make for some less than exciting evenings I'd imagine.)

Grant -
"I didn't think Valentine's mattered so, I went out with some friends to see a movie."
(And just like that, we were done... somehow this surprised him.)

Henry -
"I know we could be so good together!! Why don't you just give us a chance?!?!"
(Overly dramatic response to me saying, "I have to study for my finals so I don't fail out of law school. Maybe we can do something when the semester is done." Needless to say but, I blocked all future calls.)

Isaac -
"I have no conscience."
(Never a good sign.)

you only live once...

I don't normally consider myself to be a thrill-seeker but, of late, I've certainly been doing things the Roxanne of a year ago would probably baulk at... and I've enjoyed it.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I took a motorcycle ride through a small town in southern Viet Nam... which might not be anything big to some, was huge for me. And then, while Mommy and Erin were visiting, I convinced Erin to do the G-Max Reverse Bungy with me... and it was incredible!

The entire experience lasted about 3 minutes but of course it felt like much longer as we were being flung through the air, flipped upside down, and generally screaming like there was no tomorrow. As added proof, I bought the dvd of the experience but I'm not about to post the entire video online for the world to see. Depending how I'm feeling next time you see me, maybe I'll share but until then, here are a few screen shots to tide you over. :)

Getting strapped in and with no idea what we're really in for...



Slowly being lifted to the starting position, still not really sure what we're in for...



What I'm thinking at this moment:
"Shit! I'm slipping out of my chair... please tell me these straps are secure!"
What Erin's thinking at this moment:
"I'm gonna kill Roxie for suggesting this!!"
What skinny boy in the middle is thinking at this moment:
"This is freakin' awesome!!! So glad these crazy girls decided to do this since they wouldn't let me go up by myself."



And now we're upside down... awesome...

You just don't get it

A guy I know (who will remain unnamed) recently posted a fairly scathing review of one of my all-time favourite books, Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. By his words, my love for this book made me a "literary moron" who merely follows whatever the new trend at the time may be... literary or otherwise.

While I like to think I have relatively thick skin, I was a bit offended and was a little disappointed in him. All I could think was, he just doesn't get it.

This isn't a book you read because you are looking for next great literary work. Instead Gilbert's book is appealing because it speaks to you if you've ever felt that, here you are in a place where you should be happy, where you should be content because you've been doing everything "right" for as long as you can remember but, the fact of the matter is that, you're not. All the trappings of your good life make you feel just that, trapped as opposed to fulfilled. Then you question, what the heck is wrong with me. Gilbert encounters this and the book just chronicles her best attempt at figuring it all out.

In reading his review, his biggest grievance appeared to be his perception that Gilbert just gave up and stopped being an adult. In his opinion, she cast all responsibility to the wind and ignored all obligations in her life. And okay, I can sort of see where he might get that but considering her circumstances, and not making an actual judgement call on whether she gave up or not, why was her course of action so horribly despicable? Arguably, she was at her wits' end and there certainly were worse things she could have done. She had no children. She was financially secure (to the point where her husband was seeking money from her upon divorce). She wasn't faced with the traditional responsibilities typically associated with women her age. So, why this burning need that she needs to accept the supposed "responsibility" and stick with a life that's making her absolutely miserable?

He mentioned that teenage/college years are the time for blatant disregard for responsibility but that once a certain age has been achieved you just have to suck it up and be an adult and that got me thinking. Maybe he's right (to a point). Maybe if someone were to write a guide to life, telling you exactly what you should be doing at every stage of your life, the section on teenage and college years would probably read something along the lines of, "be crazy, do stupid shit because it will all be forgiven since you're young." Whereas, the post-college section would probably read, "go get married, hold a responsible job, make babies and by the way, no more crazy adventures for you." Except of course, there is no such book. Instead, if you're someone like me, you happened to have the, "be responsible, do what's expected" mantra beat into your head from the time were five and twenty years later you find yourself wondering, "should I have?"

I think the real thorn for him was that, readers of this book may think that they should do exactly as Gilbert did but, she's not suggesting that at all. While it may work for some, it may not be appropriate (or for that matter, feasible) for most. The book should instead serve as a reminder to not forget yourself and what's important to you. It's a reminder that you don't have to always do what is expected or what's necessarily the most "responsible" thing either. To an extent, it could be said that it's a very selfish message but again, this is not necessarily a bad thing. Quite frankly, I've seen many (usually women) who are too selfless and just end up being used in the end.

btw - I told him that I was just a bit devastated by his review, and like the good guy he is, he took the review down. Now, if only everything else was that easy.

meh...

For the past few years, I've been on the advisory board for my undergraduate sorority and I occasionally find myself incorporating some of their lingo into my own day-to-day vocabulary. "Meh" is probably my favourite term to date. As best I can describe, it means something along the lines of, "eh, I'm indifferent" and that pretty much sums up how I feel about KL.

Prior to moving to Singapore, Kuala Lumpur just sounded so gosh darn exotic. I think it was also mentioned in an Enrique Iglesias song. (Oh heck, who am I fooling? I know it was mentioned in Rhythm Divine/Ritmo Total - Enrique, I love you! - I have no shame apparently.) So, I felt obliged to visit. There are hundreds of luxury buses that serve the route from S'pore to KL daily so getting there was no big hassle but, once we got there, I just was not impressed.

As to be expected, it's nowhere near as clean as Singapore but, that wasn't so much the problem. More of an issue was when we decided to explore the city by foot and made the "mistake" of walking through one of the markets and side streets on our way to some of the more famous mosques. It literally took every fibre of my being not to hurl from the scent. My mother and friend Erin were with me as well and the three of us could not get out of that area faster if we tried.

Then there's the issue of transportation. While KL gets points for having relatively decent public transportation, it really is a random hodgepodge of subway/monorail/train lines that just happen to cross each other on occasion so transferring between the lines and getting around town can be a challenge. Certainly, an option is to avoid public transportation all together and just take a taxi but then you're faced with the touts. Despite signs posted prominently stating that it's illegal for taxi drivers to tout and that you should insist on the metered fare, at certain times of the day, all of the taxi drivers tout and will refuse to take you for metered fare. Don't get me wrong, I've been in cities where you have to be forceful with the taxi drivers in order to get the metered rate but never to the point where the driver will rather not take you than only charge you the metered rate. To make matters worse, if you approach the tourist police/security regarding the touting, they just shrug their shoulders and say maybe you'll have better luck down the street (which of course you don't).

I don't want you to think that KL was a total waste. There were some gorgeous Islamic architecture to be seen throughout the city and, of course, the Petronas Towers which are impressive regardless of how you slice it.



Also, food and lodging is remarkable cheap there as well. For the first time in my life, I had the pleasure of staying at a Ritz-Carlton property (and it was NICE) not because we're rich (because we're not) but just because the price was actually on par with what you'd pay for a two star hotel in New York City.

But, at the end of the day, would I go back to KL? Probably not, especially if I had to pay for it.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, find me a man...

Now that my time here in Singapore is rapidly approaching its end, I'm finding that a number of S'poreans and expats alike are asking me whether I'd consider moving back once I'm done with my degree. And while it's very easy for me to say that I love living here and am not excited to leave, I wouldn't be totally honest if I said I had no qualms about returning in the future.

Why this hesitation? Well, call it the biological clock or whatever you want but, the impression I get (from my own experience and that of other expats I've spoken with) is that it's very difficult to meet someone here. And if you ask fifty people, you'll probably get fifty different answers why it's a challenge. (Admittedly, I have not tried to do as much so it's merely an untested theory.) I've certainly heard answers ranging from, "Asian guys are too little" to "all the [male] expats suffer from yellow fever" (harkens back to MIT days) and then of course "everyone works too much and no one has the time" (again, MIT deja vu).

Well, apparently, it's not just the expat population that thinks this whole meeting people thing is a problem. The government of Singapore is very concerned that Singaporeans are not getting married and increasing the population of the country as quickly as they would like. Therefore, they have their own government-sponsored match-making service called the Social Development Unit. It was pointed out to me by one of my cab drivers and I definitely thought it was a joke but alas he was not kidding (of course, then it made me wonder, did I look like I needed help in that department?) and to add further amusement to this whole concept, next month Singapore will start offering matchmaking training programs for matchmaking companies.

It would seem that the government really wants their citizens to get it on, and pronto! I maintain, if it's kids they're looking for, just spike the water with some Spanish fly (and then follow up with some shot-gun weddings b/c of course they don't want a bunch of unwed mothers running around this little island - they're way too conservative for that).

What's in a name?

At FNDC the other night there were two Paul's and, about two months ago, when I first started attending FNDC's, there were two Will's. I couldn't help but think, it must get frustrating to have to share your name with others on such a regular basis. Because, often you're not just referred to by your name, there's always some other identifier attached to it - an identifier you may or may not like. Then I remembered, in college, there was a point when 3 of my sorority sisters were all dating guys named Matt (and, if I remember correctly, all 3 girls lived on the same floor of the house, along with another sister who had a younger brother, named Matt, at a neighbouring college who called occasionally... that made for fun times all around). Not to mention, we also had at 2 Diana's, 2 Monica's and at one point, 4 Nicole's.

In considering this, I gained renewed appreciation for the relative uniqueness of my name. Despite the fact that there's a group on facebook dedicated to Roxanne's (it's called, "yes, my name's Roxanne, and no, I'm not a hooker" - get it?) with over 800 members, I've only ever met one other Roxanne and that was about two years ago... she was 5. It's peculiar though, because it's not as though the name Roxanne is all that unusual. Practically everyone I meet seems to know the Police song (and gleefully sings it to me as if I couldn't possibly have heard it before... c'mon, the song is as old as I am!) and I've even a had few "original" new acquaintances burst into UTFO's rap song (and yes, that song is also almost as old as me). It used to annoy me but now I just find it mildly entertaining. In truth, I'm really waiting to meet someone who can give me a really great Sting impression or perform the Moulin Rouge version... my personal favourite. (Although, the idea of all the boys singing, 'Roxie', a la Chicago, doesn't sound to bad either. :P)



Oh, and if you thought it just an early 80's song fad, leave it to Puffy/P. Diddy/whatever-the-hell-he-wants-to-call-himself to try to put a (relatively) new twist on it...

Forgive me, please!

I know it's been way too long since my last real blog entry and it's not that I don't have anything to talk about... because I do! It's just that the end of semester is kicking my butt. But by the end of the week things should be infinitely better.

On Saturday, I head to Lao People's Democratic Republic (which, ironically, is a communist state) for a few days (by myself, eek!). Laos/Lao PDR is one of the world's least developed countries and I refuse to tote my laptop there on the off chance I'll have internet access. So, that said, don't expect any blog updates until after I return on April 24. The good news is the blog should then be bombarded with posts I've been meaning to put up.

On a somewhat tangential note, I put up all the gory details for my Laos trip on facebook (Trips application). If you haven't heard from me by the end of the day on April 25 can someone just make sure I'm alive and not stranded somewhere in the depths of Laos? Awesome.

Ok, back to work for me...

Getting to Europe Is About to Get Easier

NY Times Travel Section
By MICHELLE HIGGINS

Published: March 23, 2008

Air travel to Europe is about to undergo a significant change, one that is likely to spell more choices and cheaper fares for travelers.

News flash: Lucy Liu is not really Asian!!

I know I devote far too much blog space to discussions on the tiny sizes of Asians but I'm sorry, I cannot help it...

My mother arrived a few days ago and I was certain that given her general tininess she would have no issues trying to buy clothing here in Singapore. Alas, I was wrong!

My mother, whose "fat pants" are Gap size 2 regular, barely fit into a size large traditional Chinese dress. Apparently, her hips are too broad. Ummm... I think that makes me something on the order of quadruple XL, good God!

Anyway, this all brings me to one (albeit, very illogical) conclusion... Lucy Liu cannot possibly be Asian, she's got too much ass.

Road to Angkor, Days 5 - 9

I’m realizing that if I don’t write this post soon, it may never happen and what better time than when my body is refusing to fall asleep...

Day 5 - Siem Reap and Phnom Penh

This was our last morning in Siem Reap and also the morning of our cooking class… the first I can recall since Home Ec in 7^th grade. It ended up only being two of us, Rhi and myself, and our instructor, Sophea – who as it turns out was the same age as us – which was fantastic because she could essentially baby us the entire way through. We spent the first half hour or so exploring the Central Market. Sophea pointed out various fruits, herbs and meats that might be of interest. It’s probably a tossup as to whether watching fresh fish writhe uncontrollably on a table nearby or seeing underwear sold on the table next to dead chickens was more surprising but they both made for memorable sights.

After the market, we proceeded to the kitchen and began cooking. They let us each select one starter and one main course, the idea being that we’d eat our creations for lunch. I selected Setronel soup – a coconut milk soup with tomatoes and squash – and fish Amok – which is a creamier and milder version of Thai yellow curry. (Rhi chose Vietnamese fresh rolls and shrimp Amok.) Thankfully, there were no disasters and everything turned out fabulous.

Our biggest problem ended up being the sheer quantity of food. We easily had enough to feed four, if not more and kept trying to convince Sophea that she should eat with us… she finally caved and had a fresh roll, victory!

Of the entire morning though, my favorite memory came as we were about to leave. You see, we had taken a multitude of pictures and wanted the share them with Sophea. For some reason, it surprised us that she didn’t have an email account. Practically speaking, it’s not a priority for her to have one or even really use the internet but in our reality, a life without internet or email is simply unheard of. Anyway, she asked us if we could help her set up an email account so that she could communicate with us and happily we did. So now the hope is that she will actually use the account… I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Our group arrived in Phnom Penh later that evening and like good westerners, headed straight for happy hour at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club (FCC). We arrived there literally five minutes before happy hour ended so we were all double-fisting drinks to take advantage of the deals… I just have to keep reminding myself that I’m not an alcoholic… I swear. Once we were good and liquored up, we headed to dinner. Initially, I wasn’t planning on having anything more to drink (like I said, I’m not an alcoholic) but they had a pineapple-chili margarita on the menu… c’mon, how on earth could I resist that? Needless to say, it was awesome. It was the most interesting mix of sweet and spicy I’ve yet to encounter. I have to try whipping those up when I’m home.

Day 6 – Phnom Penh

For as much as our days in Siem Reap meant experiencing Cambodia’s beauty, this day in Phnom Penh meant experiencing the recent and very ugly history of Cambodia. Our morning began at the Tuol Sleng genocide museum and ended at the Choeung Ek killing fields.

Tuol Sleng was a former high school but when Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge gained power in Cambodia it was converted into a prison and interrogation center. Unspeakable torture and evil occurred on those grounds and most of it was conducted by brainwashed child soldiers.

The Khmer Rouge was meticulous in their record-keeping and photographed every inmate. These pictures made for an all the more haunting visit. Each face had a look of utter despondency and hopelessness… even the children. As we walked the grounds, seeing the unbelievably cramped cells, the various torture devices, and the crude structures created to ensure that no inmate could leave, or for that matter die, without assistance from the soldiers, we couldn’t help being shocked into a horrified silence.

As if the museum were not enough to drive home the cruelty of the regime, we went on to the killing fields where thousands of Khmers were killed brutally. In memory of the victims of the regime, a stupa containing thousands of skulls recovered from some of the mass graves was erected in the center.

While, staring at all these skulls is jarring, walking among the mass graves and listening to our guide detail what occurred on these grounds not so long ago was really my undoing. As we walked by a tree where soldiers would literally fling babies and young children repeatedly in order to kill them, often while their parents watched helplessly, I found I couldn’t help myself from weeping. I just cannot begin to understand where such brutality comes from and why on earth someone would want to cause such harm to another human being.

By the time we left Choeung Ek, I think we were all emotionally drained and were content putzing around Phnom Penh with no real agenda. I explored the Russian Market, famous from days where you could buy grenades and other assault weapons for a pittance – it’s much tamer now, and scored an incredibly cool pair of rose-coloured aviators for $6. I then had a blind massage, which really wasn’t much different from a seeing massage except where a seeing massage therapist would look at a clock for timing, the blind therapist regularly pressed his speaking clock to check the time. The massage itself was good but I’ll admit it was weird to hear every so often, “Ding! It is [insert time here] PM.”

Since there was still time remaining before dinner, Wally and I headed back down to the FCC for happy hour – this time there was no need to rush, thankfully – and an attempt to watch sunset over the Mekong. It turns out that the FCC faced the wrong direction so sunset was unremarkable, however, the drinks were fantastic… but we knew that already.

Day 7 – Phnom Penh + the Mighty Mekong

On our last morning in Phnom Penh we paid the obligatory visit to Wat Phnom. As far as temples are concerned this one really was nothing to write home to momma about. The bigger attractions were that there was an elephant and some monkeys you could feed. I was willing to feed the elephant because it was fairly controlled and appeared docile but the monkeys freaked me out. They were just running wild through the trees and as someone who never got around to getting her rabies shots, I kept having images of one of them leaping from their perch and biting me. Some of the others – vaccinated, I might add – gave the feeding a go without any incidents occurring.

We spent the last few hours at the New Market, which truthfully looked like every other market we’d seen except for one crucial difference. Here they sold bugs and I’m not taking ornamental bugs. They sold the real things, deep-fried, as snacks. One look made me want to hurl but apparently, yes, there are people who eat them. Based on the size of those baskets, there are lots of people that do… I’m not about to start.

That afternoon we caught a ferry down the Mekong to Chau Doc, Viet Nam.

Before we got there though, we had to make some some seriously sketchy-looking border crossings. At one of them there wasn’t even a proper dock at which the boat could tie up. Instead, we crudely came alongside a low cliff then had to hop out of the boat and climb up. It certainly made me feel like we were engaged in some sort of illicit smuggling activity.

Upon our arrival in Chau Doc, we were given the option of taking a motorcycle tour through Chau Doc and then up the nearby mountain for sunset. Before this trip, I probably would have said, “no way in hell am I getting onto the back of a motorcycle with some guy I don’t know who barely speaks English” but somewhere along the way that changed. I was even willing to sign away all insurance claims just so I could participate and I’m really glad I did. It was a priceless experience. I was giddy and ridiculously nervous. At first, I was gripping onto the driver for dear life but as the night wore on, I found myself holding onto the back with one hand while the other was operating my camera – probably not the most sensible decision but exciting nonetheless. At the top of the mountain was a rough “bar” with a bunch of hammocks strung up so we could relax and take in the sunset. One of the locals pointed out the boundary between Viet Nam and Cambodia (a river, big surprise) and the two million dollar hill (nicknamed b/c the US spent $2M bombing it during the war) but the real highlight was simply stretching out, slowly swaying in the hammocks drinking $0.50 beers watching the sun go down in the distance.

Day 8 – The road to Saigon

The drive to Saigon was an incredibly long one which we started really early on this day. Thankfully, the roads were a million times better than those in Cambodia so the drive itself was very comfortable. We ended up arriving in Saigon just after midday and once we checked into the hotel our first priority was learning how to cross the streets.

A friend had forewarned me that the roads of Saigon would be unlike anything I’d ever seen and that there would appear to be a never-ending stream of motorcycles. He was right. When crossing the road in Saigon, you have to abandon all previous street-crossing skills and in the words of Nike, just do it. If you stand and wait for a break, you will never move. The trick is to wait for a break in the large vehicles and then just start walking at a slow and steady pace. The motorcycles will not stop coming at you. They will just maneuver around you, which is why you have to keep moving. If you stop, there is a very distinct possibility that you will be hit by a bike and there’s no convincing me that would feel good at all.

After we learned to cross the streets, we were ready to take on Saigon… or at least sort of. What it really meant was since this was the penultimate day of our trip, we needed to get our last rounds of cheap massages in… after all, the Reunification Palace wasn’t going anywhere.

Day 9 – Saigon

I only had a few hours this morning to actually try to see some of Saigon and luckily there wasn’t really too much that I really wanted to see. My plan was to walk to the Reunification Palace and then do some last minute shopping before heading to the airport but alas, that wasn’t exactly how it was going to play out.

As I was walking along the sidewalk, a seemingly nice cyclo driver offered to take me wherever I wanted to go and for whatever price I chose. Since I was skeptical… mostly of his price, I made him reassure me multiple times, which he did, willingly. I hadn’t yet to take a cyclo ride anywhere so I figured Saigon is as good a place as any… I was wrong. Don’t do it. It’s actually very disconcerting because you are traveling MUCH slower than the rest of traffic yet you’re smack in the middle of it all. The entire time, I had visions of being hit by a truck and would find myself willing the driver to pedal faster.

Miraculously, we weren’t hit and my cyclo driver was true to at least part of his word and took me wherever I asked. As a bonus, I got a fantastic tan, sitting out in the open for close to three hours. The experience turned a little south as the ride ended and I confirmed the price. To be nice, I asked him for a suggestion as to how much he thought he should be paid and his response was $25 USD. Now, because I like to be prepared, Mr. Frommer and Mr. Lonely Planet are my friends and I knew this cyclo driver was trying to pull a fast one. Needless to say, I was not impressed in the least. (For those of you that don’t know me well, I don’t tolerate bullshit very well especially when it relates to parting me from my money.) I gave him the opportunity to rethink his suggestion but he stuck to his guns.

At this point, I let the amateur lawyer in me rear its head and sweetly reminded him of his promise earlier that morning of the price being “up to me.” I then brought to his attention the fact that both of my travel books said that the rate for cyclos ranged from 20,000 dong to $2 USD per hour but no higher. I then told him that I’d pay him $6, take it or leave it. I think he realized he was caught between a rock and hard place so he took the money and I left for the hotel. It wasn’t what I had hoped my last experience in Saigon would be but so it goes… aside from that particular encounter the experience as a whole was worthwhile and enjoyable.

The Road to Angkor, days 1 - 4

It's been a week since I returned from my recess week trip and there's a large part of me that wishes I was still traipsing around SE Asia as opposed to trying to write papers on taxation and trademark law. Ah well...

DAY 1 - Bangkok
Our group met in Bangkok on Saturday evening and had dinner near Khao San Road. As expected the food was delish but the service was remarkably slow. I suppose it was a good introduction for the remainder of our trip... we came to realize that good manners - i.e. waiting for everyone's food to arrive prior to eating - is just of no use b/c it would only mean that your food would get cold and lose some of it's flavour in turn.

It also happened that weekend there was a ban placed on the sale of alcohol. Apparently, elections for some Thai senators would occur the following weekend and the government wanted everyone sober. I don't fully understand why the ban had to extend to tourists or why it had to cover the weekend before elections, as well as election weekend but, it did mean that Khao San (and Bangkok in general) was significantly quieter than I remembered from my previous trip in 2000.

After dinner, we putzed around for about an hour - I got my first (of many) Thai massage and then we decided to tuck in for the night. The next morning entailed an early wake-up call and a ridiculously long drive to Siem Reap.

Day 2 - The Road to Angkor (pretty much)
A large part of our trip was spent actually traveling. On the one hand it was beneficial b/c had we flown from city to city, I think we would have missed out on the educational experience of seeing how the vast majority of Khmers (and Thais and Vietnamese, as well) live. However, it did mean more time in a bus than I probably would care for.

The drive from Bangkok to the Cambodian border was incredibly comfy. We had two private vans and while I don't know what the interior of the other van looked like, ours was pretty tricked out - leather seats, curtained windows, track lighting... I should have taken pictures. It also helped that the road was paved and well maintained. But then we made it to the border and the wealth disparity between the two countries became immediately apparent. (Ironically, Siem Reap means Siam (a.k.a. Thailand) defeated - it hails from a far more prosperous era in Khmer history - but as you make the drive from Thailand to Cambodia, it's not Thailand that you think was defeated.)



We switched into one, much less cushy, bus and began the multiple hour long drive on mostly dirt road. (Supposedly, the condition of the road is only partly due to the wealth of Cambodia. There is a flight service offered between Bangkok and Siem Reap but it is monopolized by one airline in which some members of the government have a financial interest and, to put it mildly, corruption is rampant.)



Unlike the greenery of Thailand, most of the drive in Cambodia was dusty desolation. We'd occasionally drive through villages where the buildings all looked like they'd tip over if too strong a wind were to come through and everything was coated in thick layers of red dirt.

What probably made it all the more bizarre though was, as soon as we entered Siem Reap, incredible resorts seemed to spring out of nowhere... truthfully, it was an embarrassing display of western wealth b/c we knew that each of us could feasibly (albeit painfully) pay for at least one night in these resorts but the locals who we just passed in the villages could only dream of being able pay for one night.

Day 3 - Siem Reap
Because we had such an early day the day before, we decided that we'd put off Angkor Wat sunrise until Day 4 and instead spend Day 3 exploring the other temples and attractions of Siem Reap.
Angkor Thom is the ancient city and there are numerous, less famous temples within its grounds.



One of my favorites was Preah Palilay. Like Ta Prohm - the famous Lara Croft: Tomb Raider temple - nature appears to be winning the battle but, that's what adds to the appeal. Seeing these massive trees taking over the temple structure and knowing that the tress came after the temple (starting from seed) truly gives a sense of perspective as to just how old these temples are.



My reason for preferring Preah Palilay is that significantly fewer tourists were there and you were allowed to climb all over (at your own risk) whereas you're very limited as to where you can ramble at Ta Prohm. (My camera died before we made it to Ta Prohm so I don't have any good ones to share.)

After Ta Prohm, we went to see the Land Mine Museum. Cambodia is the most mined country in the world and to this day, there are still people being severely injured as a result of the undiscovered mines. While the specific number is not known, it is estimated that there are millions of mines dispersed throughout Cambodia. While all the main roads and tourist destinations are safe, many of the less traversed areas are not.

To cap off the evening, we explored the Night Market in Siem Reap. On the one hand, it's quite a pleasant experience because you're not really bothered by the sellers and the goods seem to be of a slightly higher value than what you typically see in other night markets. However, part of my enjoyment in night markets is bargaining and there was very little of that at this particular market. I felt that, even though the goods were nicer than I'd usually seen, many of the goods were still overpriced, maybe it hit home more because the goods were priced in US dollars versus Cambodian riel and having vendors who refused to budge frustrated me. Eventually, I bought a pair of "temple-appropriate" shorts but, as I feared... they were crap and had to be replaced within a few hours of wearing them.

Day 4 - Siem Reap
In order to catch sunrise at Angkor Wat, this morning was a really, really early one. We made it to the temple just after 5AM and claimed our spots. We were pretty much a captive audience and the locals knew it. After about 15mins, the calls for coffee came through. "Coffee, $1!" As sleep-deprived tourists, we all jumped at the offer... and the coffee was amazing. (Though, I'm certain I only felt that way because of the time of day. Caffeinated sludge would have tasted good at that point!) Amusingly enough, after an hour the offer changed to "2 coffee, $1!" - if only I had the power to hold out.

As to be expected, sunrise was stunning. As the darkness lifted, Angkor Wat appeared majestically in the purplish light of the morning.





The actual exploring of Angkor Wat didn't really take as long as I think we expected it would. The inner levels were closed off for safety reasons so we were pretty much limited in where we could go.

After Angkor Wat, we visited Banteay Srey (a.k.a. Women's Citadel). This particular temple was the smallest of all the complexes but the detail work was unbelievable. In fact, the story behind the name is that it must have been women who did the work because the men didn't have the patience to complete such intricate work.





After a morning of temples, we went to see the floating village on Tonle Sap Lake. Because it was dry season, the lake was nowhere near as large as it is typically and the water was incredibly muddy but the village itself was pretty remarkable. There were hundreds of floating structures including a basketball court, multiple churches and schools. Some of the homes even had floating pig pens.



To end the day, we had dinner in a traditional Khmer home and followed with drinks at Angkor What bar in Siem Reap. The dinner was fantastic but all the more memorable was when the children - of which there must have been easily 15 - dragged us all into an impromptu dance party including throwbacks like the Macarena, and a variant on musical chairs.



The children were some of the most beautiful I've ever seen and seemed so genuinely happy to have more people to entertain. They wouldn't let us sit down for even a moment once the music started, so we're all convinced we worked off dinner!

Mecca

Ikea.

Singapore, has two. TWO!

Massachusetts has a measly one.

Population of Massachusetts = 6,437,193
(2006 estimate according to US Census Bureau)
Population of Singapore = 4,553,009
(2007 estimate according to US CIA World Factbook)

Does this sound wrong to anyone else?

Lazy man's yoga

I'm a few days into my spring break trip and waiting for everyone to arrive so we can go on a lake tour and check out some floating villages. In the meantime, I feel compelled to share my new favorite things to waste money on... thankfully not too much money.

Thai massage... or what I like to call, "lazy man's yoga" (although I can't be sure I'm copying that tagline from someone else)

It costs about $7 an hour and once it's all done, my joints feel looser and I swear I've had an intense stretching workout. As far as comfort is concerned, you remain fully clothed... so no awkward almost-naked moments with the therapist. However, the downside is that because of the no nakedness you and twenty of your closest friends may be getting a massage at once in full view of each other... and yes, that's a little weird.

The therapist pulls and pushes your body in all sorts of seemingly peculiar ways and there are times when you hear some unnerving pops... mostly from my back... but then again, I do have a tense back (so I've been told). But the glory is that you have do to nothing except roll ever so often or sit up now and then. So, all things considered, for someone who is pretty inept when it comes to real yoga, I'll happily take this fake yoga anyday.

On my soapbox (a.k.a. my only post about U.S. politics, hopefully)

Despite telling myself that I should focus my attentions elsewhere, I find I’m repeatedly drawn to the U.S. presidential happenings. In particular, I have this freakish obsession with the race for the Democratic Party nomination. You see, I’m an ardent supporter of Hillary Clinton; always have been.

Way back in ’92, when Bill was first elected president, I remember feeling there was something different about her… and I liked it. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that this was the first U.S. presidential election that I actually remembered. Maybe it was because Bill and Hillary were young and vibrant. I can’t put my finger on exactly what it was but I was just starting high school (7^th grade) and it was immediately evident to me that Hillary was no shrinking violet. I just knew she wasn’t going be like Barbara or Nancy, who always appeared so docile. Here was a woman who was really worth regarding.

One of my father’s younger brothers used to call my mother Hillary. We’re fairly certain he didn’t mean it in a good way but, to me (and I think to my mom as well) it was a compliment. Quite frankly, there were no other famous women that I really had much respect for on that level.

Even through the scandals with Bill, my support for her never waned. I know many women were outraged that she could, for all her feminism, stand by Bill’s side through the whole Lewinsky debacle and she probably forever lost some supporters because of it. However, having seen some of my friends’ parents deal with the issue of adultery, I took the position that you can’t judge until you’ve been there. Just because one partner cheats on the other does not necessarily mean that there is a lack of love or respect. (Here’s some food for thought on the subject or here.) To this day, I’m convinced that Bill and Hillary have a deep love and respect for each other. But, anyway, that was a side note.

For one of my master’s classes, we were assigned to read, “In the Company of Educated Women” (good book by the way) which as you can probably guess, details the change in the higher education landscape as women started pursuing undergraduate degrees and beyond. As to be expected, a significant portion of the book was devoted to all female colleges and in particular to Wellesley. Now, as an MIT woman, I’ll be the first to admit there isn’t a ton of love between the two female populations. But, what struck me was that even though Wellesley was an institution devoted to the advancement of women, the students were not allowed to have a student speaker at commencement. (Their male peers at neighboring schools had a student speaker for years at this point.) Further, the commencement speaker was always a man. Finally, the students came together and petitioned the administration to allow a student speaker at commencement and guess who that was? My friend Hillary, you can read the text of her speech here.

It was only a matter of time before Hillary threw her hat in the political arena. From what I could tell, New Yorkers were somewhat resistant the first go ‘round but she’s managed to win them over and secure subsequent election wins. To be honest, I’ve just been waiting for her to run for President. I’ve always believed she’d be fantastic. She is passionate about the country, cognizant of foreign policy issues and well aware of her perceived shortcomings. She knows her way around Washington, which can be valuable and has demonstrated that she can be fierce when needed. Sure, she’s not as charismatic as Obama but, let’s be honest, there’s no way in hell her campaign would have lasted a month if her initial platform was that of “hope”. Critics would have assaulted her and her girly fluff faster than you can say, I don’t know, insert something clever and short here. When push comes to shove, she and Obama are pretty much even on key issues and she’s been clear about her plans from day one.

Whereas, Obama’s speeches seem almost disingenuous to me; as though he’s just pandering what the American populace is just so desperate to hear although he doesn’t really have substance to back it up with. Of course, it can and should be argued that much of politics involves some amount of pandering but I’m someone who doesn’t just want to hear about “hope” and “change”. I want to know, how? I want to know that there is a plan. I want something I can actually envision. Words like “hope” and “change” are pretty but they don’t actually solve problems. It also bothers me that Obama literally took Deval’s speech and presented it as his own. I don’t care that Deval supposedly suggested that he use it, Obama could have at least acknowledged that the words were not his own as he spoke them. Deval’s not MLK Jr. so his words haven’t achieved such fame whereby a little disclaimer as to who the original owner is not warranted. For Obama to say that it didn’t occur to him, sits uncomfortably. What does that say about him? That he’s willing to take what sounds good and present it as his own even if it isn’t? Or maybe I’m making too much out of it but it does ring of immaturity and worries me. (This all probably sounds a lot harsher than I mean it to sound. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Obama. I’m just afraid that he’s getting in way over his head and could do with more substantive experience under his belt.)

Anyway, as an “alien” (that’s their word, not mine) in the U.S., I have no say in the matter. So, as I mentioned before, I need to get past this and just accept whatever happens… although the feminist in me is praying, really, really hard.

(And just so you don’t think I’ve forgotten about the GOP… It’s seems fairly evident to me that McCain has it in the bag for the Republican nod. Or at least, I’m convinced that the GOP would need to seriously lose its collective mind to give the nom to Huckabee. I will not allow myself to believe that America would choose him over either of the Democratic options.)

A/N (added 12 Mar 08): An acquaintance of mine posted this story on facebook and I think it is particularly relevant to this blog post. As she mentioned, it may be two months late for me to notice the article but it doesn't change the point, with which I agree whole-heartedly.

I may have a problem...

I picked up my passport from the Viet Nam embassy this morning after checking out the new stamp, came the quick realization that I may have a problem.

No, not with getting into (or out of) Viet Nam; that's all set.

My problem is that most of these countries like to use two visa pages for a single entry visa (or at least for the first single entry visa). You see, one page is used for the actual visa and then at the port of entry, the immigration officials like to use the page immediately adjacent to the visa => two pages. Well, because of their practices, I'm down to three pairs of available adjacent pages.

The first, and more obvious, problem is that depending on how finicky these countries want to get, I could potentially be in a situation where I may only be able to get three more visas before having to renew my passport - much earlier than its expiry date in 2012. The second, and potentially much bigger, problem is that if I have to renew my passport, this means I also need to get a new US student visa which in turn could screw up my future work authorization. The period of time between the granting of my new student visa and law school graduation may end up being too short to qualify for the oh-so-important OPT. Argh!!

Well, I'm going to see if I can try to convince the immigration officials to only stamp my passport on pages that already have stamps but still have space on the pages... hopefully that won't piss them off too much and they'll still let me in the country despite my high maintenance requests. That or I'll be forced to only visit places where I won't require a visa... problem is those places are few and far in between thanks to the nonexistent efforts of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in the Bahamas.

Feeling hot, hot, hot

"Girl, I wanna make you sweat. Sweat 'til you can't sweat no more..." Inner Circle, circa 1993

Having been at the disgusting point where I was convinced I couldn't possibly sweat any further, circa now, this does not sound appealing in the least.

Just when I thought the heat in Singapore was outrageous, Bali made me rethink my categorization. All trips to Bali should come with a warning about the fact that your sweat glands are likely to go into full-blown overdrive and that you would be a fool to wear something other than loose linen and 100% cotton tank-tops and shorts. [If you're a woman who is blessed and doesn't get to "enjoy" inner thigh chafing, go ahead and wear a skirt... just know that I hate you.]

I, however, am more inclined the support the view expressed by a dear friend and former roommate of mine...

Me: It is f*cking hot.
She: Or rather, it is too hot to f*ck.

Yummy yummy yummy in my tummy tummy tummy

I recently returned from Bali (and yes, I'll post some pics soon) but instead of trying to squeeze everything about my trip into one post - where inevitably I'll get tired of writing and then cut out a lot of the details - I'm going to try multiple posts, each (ideally) discussing something different about the trip.
Whether I succeed at this approach or let tiredness win remains to be seen... anyway, onto entry numero uno...

Food, glorious food!

In case you haven't noticed by now, quite possibly the only other interest of mine that might come anywhere close to my love of traveling, it's my love of really good food and its accompaniments (even shopping, which is also a favorite pastime isn't up there). And, I am very pleased to report that the food in Bali did not disappoint... not in the least!

Two dishes in particular that I feel obliged to mention (and encourage trying at home) are actually salads I had while there. The first, was with my dinner at the hotel's restaurant and consisted of grilled bananas & tomatoes over greens dressed with a light vinaigrette and, the second, was a watermelon salad I had on my last night in Bali at a restaurant named Ku De Ta. (Yes, I splurged and probably shouldn't but with the exchange rate, I could not resist because it still wasn't SO bad.) While, I loved the flavours of the banana and tomato salad, I think I could have eaten the Ku De Ta salad everyday I was there and not tire of it, it was just that good! They combined cubes of watermelon with pieces of super-soft feta (I'm pretty sure a creamy goat cheese would work equally well) and basil leaves then dressed it in balsamic vinaigrette... incredibly simple but unbelievably good!

Of course, the salads weren't the only good food to be had. In fact, the seafood was also fantastic and, on three (out of the four) nights, I had fish for dinner. All three times, the restaurant served the entire fish grilled with Balinese spices - which kind of remind me of Thai flavours - and all three times it was very very good. One of the nights, I had dinner on Jimbaran Beach - which is ridiculously romantic... too bad the only person I was romancing was myself - where I was able to select the actual fish I wanted and then, voila!, 30 mins (or so) later, my fish arrived grilled to perfection. Definitely, awesome. :)

I also had "dirty duck" while I was there and, no, the duck isn't actually dirty. Essentially, it's well seasoned, then deep-fried, duck (when done well it's not overly greasy just yummy). For someone like me who isn't a big fan of chicken breast (because let's be honest, that ish is usually dry... or super-coated in oil to make it not dry... and yes, I feel even more strongly about turkey breast but I mentioned that before) but loves dark meat, duck is wonderful since the whole bird is pretty much dark meat. And, honestly, deep-frying makes almost everything taste better so long as the deep-frying is done properly. (In fact, I'm waiting for someone to deep-fry me some brussels sprouts... maybe then I'll actually be able to stomach them... ah, who am I kidding? Brussels sprouts are just plain gross.)

I've never met anyone from there before!

I'm pretty used to receiving the standard barrage of statements/questions whenever I meet someone who's never met a Bahamian before. Oftentimes, they begin with the obligatory, "I've never met anyone from there before." And my standard response is, "Well, there aren't that many of us so that's no surprise." Of course, the conversation then progresses usually including (but certainly not limited to) questions on population, weather, economy, language, history.

On Saturday, however, I had the opportunity to be the one surprised because I met a Maldivian. Now, I had heard of the Maldives, mostly as an exclusive resort destination in the Indian Ocean... I even looked into it since I figured I'd be in the vicinity... but I never imagined I'd meet a Maldivian outside of the country. Turns out that population-wise, the Maldives has about 300,000 people (like the Bahamas) and is an archipelago comprised of hundreds of tiny islands (again, like the Bahamas). The vast majority of the population live in the capital, Male, but there are a few thousand who live on the outer islands (yet again, like the Bahamas). And as to be expected, their primary industry is tourism (you guessed it, like the Bahamas).

Where the two countries diverge, however, is religion. The Bahamas is very much so a conservative church-going nation (depending on who speak with, you may hear it described as a Christian nation but that's debatable) but, there are still small sections of society that practice other forms of religion. On the other hand, the Maldives only allows for the practice of Islam and the establishment of any other form of religion is expressly forbidden. That means, there are no churches, temples, etc. in the country and should you desire to become a Maldivian, you must be a Muslim first.

Initially, I was taken aback by this requirement. I had immediately assumed that a country with a requirement like this would implicitly require its citizens to follow an orthodox sect of Islam but the young Maldivian woman speaking to me was wearing a typical western warm-weather outfit of t-shirt, denim mini and flip flops, no hijab in sight. Unable to help myself, I (hopefully politely) asked her about it. Turns out it was not totally an example of the "when in Rome" idea but instead was fairly close to acceptable attire in the Maldives. (I say fairly because I'm not entirely convinced on the mini.)

This did get us talking about the religion in general and as it turns out there is a very real concern about the growing population of Islam extremists in the Maldives, particularly in the out islands. While there haven't been any major terror attacks, it is apparently becoming a growing problem that these followers of extremist Islam have been strongly pushing for, as she put it, "a return to the days of the prophet." This year, for the first time, the Maldives will be holding two party elections and from the sounds of it, one party supports the more traditional view of Islam whereas the other party has a more progressive view of the faith. Considering the supporters of the more traditional party have expressed strong distaste for tourism even though tourism is by far the country's biggest industry, I'm guessing it's probably better if the present progressive government stays in power.

Why I have no love for Citizens Bank

If there is anything that can really sour my day it's not being able to access money when I need it. Citizens Bank has done just that and gotten on my last nerve. While I can understand the idea of protecting the bank against false charges, the bank owes its customers the right to be informed that their charges have been flagged and that future activity on the account may be stopped.

Chase called me not one, not two but, THREE times to verify some charges I made. Citizens Bank did not even attempt to call me once. They didn't even send me an email or one of those "secured messages" through their website. Just all of a sudden, they started declining charges. Of course, I immediately checked my account balance as soon as I returned to my computer and everything looked fine... still no notice of suspicion. Given the crazy time difference, I sent Customer Service a "secured message" explaining the situation and asking them to remove the flag. Still, no response. Anyway, earlier today, I went to withdraw some money from my account and guess what happened? The ATM retained my card (needless to say, it also did not give me any money). So, now what??

I call that bank responsible for the ATM and they tell me that because of the various processes required, I should get my card in about two weeks. TWO WEEKS?!?!?! Two weeks and no access to my money?!?! Sadly, I realized that they weren't kidding... not even a little bit. They said they'd try to expedite it but couldn't promise anything. You can only imagine how bullsh*t I was at this point.

So then, I call Citizens' remarkably unhelpful 24/7 "help" line. All the call center rep could do was confirm what I already knew... yes, my account had been flagged. I think our conversation went something like this...
Me: Can you remove the flag?
Her: No. Only the consumer fraud department can do that but, (optimistically) they're open between 9am & 9pm EST.
Me: Well, seeing that I'm 13 hours ahead that means 10pm to 10am.
Her: Oh, I'm sorry. Well, that's really your only option.

At this point I wanted to reach the phone and shake her, really really hard. Then I explained my whole card problem and she said well we can send you an emergency card via FedEx and you have to sign for it. She almost made up for her prior uselessness in that statement alone. But then just when there was a glimmer of hope she says, however, we can't do that until the fraud department has removed the flag so you have to call back tonight. And all of a sudden, she was useless again.

While this may be the biggest incident where Citizens has managed to completely frustrate me, it is, sadly, not their first. Therefore, one of the first things I will do as soon as I return to Boston is change banks because quite frankly Citizens is doing NOTHING for me.

Brownie Points for Cambodia

I never thought I'd find myself saying this but, many a country - including the "developed" ones - could do to take a page out of Cambodia's book.

As a citizen of a nation where our Ministry of Foreign Affairs is quite possibly one of the most useless ones out there, I have to obtain tourist (and/or transit) visas for practically everywhere. I'm sure you can imagine the aggravation and hassle this involves for anyone who might want to actually leave the country now and again to visit someplace other than a fellow commonwealth nation.

Usually, it involves at least two trips to the embassy of a the desired destination country (and if you know anything about any government office anywhere, that means lots of waiting, both times), shelling out some cash, and scrambling to find additional passport photos. All for a single entry visa... too bad if you're planning on making multiple trips. You'll need to return to the beginning and repeat the entire process (unless you are lucky enough to be visiting one of the few countries that grant multiple-entry tourist visas).

So, you can only imagine my surprise to discover that Cambodia, in it's technological advancement, gives tourists the option of applying for their visa online. They evidently want to make it as easy as possible for tourists to visit their country and I have to commend them on the entire process. Three things in particular won me over (not that I needed much extra beyond an online application):
(1) the entire application process took about 5 minutes to complete
(2) you don't need a standard passport photo... as long as the picture is only of you, comprised mostly of your head & shoulders, and your head is facing forward, you're all set and
(3) very fast response time... I submitted my application online at 12:30 am and when I woke up this morning at 8:30 am there was my approval notice.

Now, if only places, like France, would follow suit I'd really be happy.

Chicken Bolognaise Fish Fillet Rice

One of my favorite things about Singapore is the wide variety of tasty food that is available. On any given day, I may have kaya toast for breakfast, ebi tempura for lunch and mutton with prata for dinner. It is worth noting however that all the meals previously mentioned are Asian/SE Asian dishes. The reason for that is, "western" food is something of an adventure.

Undoubtedly, the first question that comes to mind is what exactly is "western" food? And the best I can say is that it is some weird amalgam of what Asians imagine American, British and miscellaneous other western cuisines must be. As far as I can tell, the standard rules appear to be (1) fry (preferably deep-fry) the designated meat, then (2) cover it in some sort of suspicious sauce/gravy and finally (3) serve it with plain spaghetti or fries (except not the McDonald's fries but those rippled ones you'd only find in the frozen food aisles at the supermarket). Oh, and of course, give it some bizarre name, like "chicken chop", that will completely baffle any "westerner" to the point that you're pretty much guaranteed that they will choose some other cuisine to eat.

Anyway, this is pretty much what I encountered when I decided to get dinner tonight. I let my curiosity outweigh my better judgment and opted for the Chicken Bolognaise Fish Fillet Rice because the name was just far too fantastic for me to pass it up.

As I figured, there was no such thing as "bolognaise" but perhaps they were referring to bolognese sauce (they were) and to substitute chicken for beef should be fine. Now, in a standard Italian restaurant the dish should end there because this sauce is typically served with spaghetti. Alas, here, in the land of interpretive "western" food it did not.

One guess as to how the dish was "creatively" interpreted.

If you said, rice instead of spaghetti, brownie points for you! And if you said a deep fried fish fillet was thrown in just for the heck of it, bonus points!!

And one guess of what it tasted like...

Let's just say, there's a reason why the Italians use pasta and keep fish out of it.

Four countries, four days

On Wednesday of last week, I decided that I had to get on the traveling ball and go somewhere this past weekend. Seeing that I didn't want to be bothered with getting visas or overly concerned that I still haven't gotten my JE shots as yet, HK & Macau seemed like perfect destinations. So, I booked my tickets and headed out on Friday.

Of the two, I preferred HK. Not that Macau is all bad.

In fact, there's a lot of unique cultural sites to tide me over for the day I was there. Macau was, until recently, a colony of Portugal which has made for an interesting mix of architecture and unexpected quirks. (Check out these pictures.)







Also, in the midst of signs written in Chinese you'll see street signs for Rua da [insert Portuguese name here] or Travessa da something.

Nonetheless, I'm not much of a gambler so I was at a loss for things to do at night because they don't even have the shows you can find in Vegas. As far as I'm concerned, if I'm going to lose money I at least want to get something out of the process - be it new clothes, shoes, fat or a pleasant buzz - but gambling doesn't actually make me feel good because from the start I know I'm just going to lose money with no return.

However, I do feel obliged to share one utterly delicious encounter in Macau... egg tarts - YUM! Imagine the best creme brulee you've ever had and then combine that with really flaky, buttery pie crust... almost like a croissant... with each bite you can just feel the fat piling on but it's oh so good.

As for HK, it's a lot more like any big city as far as skyscrapers, crowds of people and efficient transportation is concerned. While HK cannot claim the ridiculous cleanliness of Singapore or Tokyo, it is a far cry from the dirt of Bangkok. On my scale of big city cleanliness, I'd probably say it's somewhere around Chicago or NYC.

What's really striking about HK to me is how the towering skyscrapers of the Central district are flanked by huge hills (they could be mountains but I'm pretty sure they're just hills... I must confess my ability to judge these things is a bit off) on one side and then the harbour on the other. The result is that HK is an incredibly picturesque city. (Of course, it was overcast when I was there but I could still imagine what it must look like on a clear day.)





Across the harbour (and yes I took the Star Ferry), in Tsim Sha Tsui (Kowloon), you can get a fantastic view of the lights from Central and at 8pm every night the tourism folks put on a show - The Symphony of Lights - which is actually pretty cool (that or I was really feeling my cocktail... which I suppose is possible). I couldn't get a good shot of the light show but here's a taste of the lights in general.



And of course, what would a trip to HK be without some Bruce Lee action? :)



[If you're trying to figure out the other two countries referred to in the entry title... S'pore (a little too obvious perhaps) and Malaysia. I flew into Johor Bahru, Malaysia and then took public trans across the border back into S'pore. So yes, it's arguable if I should get to count it but c'mon, four countries in four days just sounds cool.]

Random pictures of Singapore

I know, it's about time I posted some photos from Singapore. Problem is that I haven't really taken any pictures since my first day here. Nonetheless, here are a few to tide you over until the next round.


One of the many expressways. I cannot get over just how green this little island-city-country is... it's incredible.














Chinatown's night market




















Bussorah Street in the Arab Quarter.

I know, it doesn't look very Arabic... you just have to trust me on this one.




































The Sultan Mosque.
(It's at the end of the street pictured above. See? Very Arabic after all.)

In the land of little people

At the risk of stating the obvious and at the same time possibly over-generalizing, Asians are small people.

You'd think if I didn't get that when I was in Thailand, where I (a US size medium) was forced to purchase XL clothing and pray it fit, then I would certainly get it after Japan, where I pretty much did not buy any clothing at all, but somehow it still managed to sneak up on me. It's as if my mind just cannot wrap itself around the concept of how it can be normal for a population, the women in particular, to be so small.

Well, I was recently forced to revisit this issue because I desperately needed to purchase more shorts (they're really the only things comfortable to wear out and about in this incredible heat and humidity). Many (if not most of the stores) don't really sell anything larger than a US size small but there is no end to the extra-small or extra-extra-small sizes (which is really awesome because I think if I try real hard I can fit one thigh into something that size... maybe I could just buy two... you know, one for each leg... I'll start a new style). So, it becomes much more of a treasure hunt... where oh where is there clothing that will actually fit? and then of course, am I really willing to wear that or does it cross the line and make me look like my grandmother?

I suppose I can look at the bright side and say I have incentive to go to the gym regularly and eat super-healthy so that I can miraculously shrink to an extra-small but what really gets me is that it's not even that I eat a whole lot... just reasonable sizes of the recommended three square meals a day. If you really want to see eaters, just observe Singaporeans. I have no doubt that even the littlest young woman in any of my classes could probably eat twice as much as I can and does on a fairly regular basis. As an example, Taryn (my buddy assigned through the law student group at NUS) took Chris (the other BU exchange student) and I out for lunch at a local sushi place. She ate almost as much as I did but, this was her second lunch of the day. We commented on this to her and she couldn't really explain it... our best guess is that she sweats off the calories in the constant heat that is Singapore but honestly, I'm not buying it.

To make matters worse, I have freakishly large feet here. (Of course, there are some who may say that my feet are freakishly large anywhere but that's beside the point.) So freakishly large that the vast majority of shoe stores/departments simply do not carry my size at all (which is a European size 41... pretty much all the stores only carry up to size 40). Finally, at my wits end, I (just a tad bit desperately) ask a saleslady if she knew of any stores that carried my size... she knew one. On all of Orchard Road, she only knew of one! (To give you some sense of scope, Orchard Road is kinda like Newbury Street, except at least twice as long and instead of little boutiques lining the street, there are megamalls. Many, many megamalls. And when I say megamall, it's as though you combine the Copley & Pru and then double it and then you've got the smallest variant.) I don't care how large my feet may seem in the US, I rarely have problems finding shoes in my size... in fact my closet can attest to this fact. All in all, it makes for a relatively sad Roxie because it's no secret, I love to shop but this whole hard-to-find sizes thing is really not helping... not helping at all.

Welcome to Singapore!

Now that I’ve been in Singapore for a few days, it seems appropriate that I should write an entry at least touching on this big move. (It also helps that I need an excuse to stay up late b/c if I let my body have its way, I’d be asleep already and normally that wouldn’t be such a huge deal except I can’t say that I’m a fan of waking up at 4AM.)

Anyway, to state the obvious, it is hot here… and humid. Apparently, this is the rainy season but I have yet to see any rain and quite frankly I’d welcome some if it means that it would break the humidity. I’m beginning to think that I may never wear my hair down while I’m here – unless, of course, I’m going for the wild-crazy-mass-of-uncontrollable-curls look. The good news is that despite the fact that my tiny dorm room does not have a/c it does have a world’s fastest spinning ceiling fan which does a remarkably good job keeping the room cool… so long as I don’t think about the harm that fan might cause should it somehow break free of its base, I’ll be fine.

As to be expected, the country is very clean… a lot like Japan in that respect. And from what I can tell, the residents tend to follow the laws closely. (Then again, the government is not known for being all that lenient so I’m not about to try breaking any myself.) My first night in town I stayed in a hotel near Chinatown, where there is a fairly large night market, and ended up being convinced into getting a massage (granted it didn’t take that much convincing). And as the guy giving me the massage put it, the government acts as the father for all Singaporeans and Singaporeans are very good children. (He also said that I have a really stiff back – which is not good apparently but, more on that another time.)

I also have to mention the food because I’m floored at how cheap it is yet still be so tasty. All over the city, there are hawker centers, which are essentially food courts, where you can get an incredibly low cost meal. About 4-6 SGD should do the trick and even in today’s market where the USD trades at approx. 1.5 SGD (apparently in the days of old, it used to be 1 USD = 2 SGD) that’s still cheap. There are also a number of other restaurants that charge much more. One night I ventured down to Clarke Quay (pronounced “key”), where there is a remarkable array of bars, restaurants and clubs, to have dinner and paid the equivalent of what a moderate to inexpensive dinner in Boston would cost but that was a splurge (despite the fact that there are far more expensive restaurants to be had) and my plan is to keep meals like that to a minimum.

Right now, things are fairly quiet in my residence. Classes do not begin until next week and most students won’t check in until this weekend at the earliest. I suppose it is good that I arrived early so I don’t have to deal with the chaos of thousands of others checking in with me along with settling in but the quietness tends to lead to a bit of boredom, particularly because it’s a bit of an undertaking to get from the residence into town. Nonetheless, I’m planning, now that my room is in order, to use these few days before classes begin to play tourist. My cab driver recommended the Night Safari and Sentosa Island is supposed to be enjoyable as well.

Until next time…