travel

Five Easy Walks Near London

Looking out at the increasingly lovely weather (a brief and fleeting period of time to be seized during the short English summer), we are hankering for a nice long walk and wondering “when will quarantine end?”. Before all the staying inside began, we were doing our best to take one weekend a month to explore some of the parks and lovely areas of outstanding natural beauty within striking distance of London. While we can’t go on walks at the moment due to the #greatBritishlockdown, I know a lot of folks are likely itching to get out of the city and are planning their excursions for as soon as the travel ban is (officially) lifted. Those of us who have been good citizens and patiently waited, deserve to be rewarded with a lovely walk — so keep these in mind when the time comes.

Finding a simple walk near London is easy, but knowing whether it’s worth the trip is more difficult. There are many parks and AONBs (Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty) nearby — some more beautiful than others. We’ve compiled our five favourites below, sorted (roughly) by distance and effort to reach these lovely spots. Below are our recommendations for a good day out from London. Note, we don’t have a car (or the hutzpah to drive on the other side of the road), so these are all easily accessible by train from London.

1. Richmond Park

White Lodge is one of the many sights visitors see when ambling around the sprawling park

The easiest trip from the London metro centre to a really lovely day ,out that still feels far from the city without necessitating serious travel, is Richmond Park. You can easily take the Overground, rail from Waterloo, or better yet the District line Richmond-bound train service terminates there, so it’s easy to find.

A sprawling 2,500 acre park with (sometimes) secluded trails, the park has a rich history intermeshed with the royalty, starting with Edward (1272-1307). During his time, the area was known as the Manor of Sheen, but the name changed to Richmond during Henry VII’s reign. In 1637, Charles I enclosed the park, soon after moving his court there to escape the plague (hmm that sounds familiar!). The locals were not happy, but apparently he allowed right-of-way for them through the woods. Full of truly ancient trees, the park has been enclosed since and is the largest of the royal parks in London.

It is also the primary reason that we wanted to live in the greater Richmond area. It provides ample green space for keen weekend walkers to really stretch their legs with room to practise long distance running too. While it can get crowded in the summer, a silver lining of social distancing has been the ban on car traffic through the park (easily the worst mistake the management of the park is guilty of is ever having allowed cars in the first place). For this reason, it must be among the most peaceful places to enjoy in London at the moment. It should obviously remain a car-free park forever, even now car lots take up space that could add room to the park. Also, parks are for cyclists and pedestrians — not motorized vehicles.

There are miles of trails to walk or run, as well as some designated for cyclists and horseback riders

There are a number of features worth exploring within the park and there is also a herd of large red deer that freely roam the grounds. Sophie enjoys the Isabella Plantation, a fully-enclosed post-war organic garden. In normal times, the park makes a wonderful travel destination for a day-trip, picnic, or a long walk around the vast perimeter. It’s so expansive that to this day, I continue to get lost and discover new bits! There’s always a new corner to explore. For a visitor to London, or even a resident, if you haven’t been to Richmond Park, put it on your list.

The small but charming city of Richmond-upon-Thames abutting the park is also worthy of some of your time and can easily be rolled into a day-trip. While the high street is forgettable and plastered with the same boring shops you see everywhere else, the charming Richmond Common boasts a collection of independent retailers worthy of your business. Peppered in the small alleys and side streets are a number of great places. There is a fantastic Sardinian restaurant: L’assaggino. Also hidden back there is the ever delightful Rosie and Java, a specialty coffee and tea merchant. As you climb into the stately Richmond Hill neighbourhood, you will find a friendly cheesemonger and a nice pub, The Roebuck. It’s just a Greene King-owned pub, but it is cosy and serves up a fantastic view of the Thames Valley below. A choice spot for a pint after a long walk through the park!

2. Box Hill, Surrey

Denbies wine, offering passive-aggressive notes of middle-class snobbery

Box Hill is well known as a spot to walk and get some sun just outside the major metro area in the southwest. Within the Surrey Hills AONB, there are a few nice walks to be had.

You don’t *really* need a map… but it does come in handy

It’s easy to catch a train from Victoria Station to the suburbanesque countryside of Surrey. As part of the Green Belt of semi-protected areas around London, the Surrey AONB isn’t the most stunning, but it’s accessible and has all the amenities one may desire (good pubs to take a rest in and plenty of walkin’ snacks). In high summer, there are quite a few people smashing around on Box Hill itself (some of them less well-behaved, and less thoroughly-clothed, than others) but the walk from Leatherhead isn’t too crowded until you get to Box Hill (mainly due to the fact that most humans are shamefully lazy and just drive there instead).

The Stepping Stones, a good spot to wet your whistle

The walk was easy to pick-up from the paved trail right outside the station in Leatherhead, though it was challenging at points to figure out where to go once you leave the town — but getting lost is (usually) part of the fun. We stumbled across numerous blackberry bushes, which meant that our progress was slowed while I stuffed my face with ripe berries like a post-hibernation black bear. The countryside was pleasant, with plenty of happy sheep to befriend.

Along the way, we also discovered a winery, which gave us an opportunity to have a drink in the shade with some yummy mummies and yuppie puppies while debating the merits of their varying brands of £5K buggies (strollers). There are a number of (I’d wager) also subpar wineries around, but even if the quality of wine they provided was low, it provided a quick and entertaining diversion, and at least the wine was wet, if not just purely disgusting.

Along the way were a number of worthwhile pubs, obviously a walk must be populated with good watering holes to keep the horses going. The Stepping Stones pub was a good stop-off near box hill with a peaceful garden and a pleasant ambience.

3. Chiltern Hills AONB

We stumbled upon a strange ceremony in Bradenham village

The Chiltern Hills also provide a nice, short excursion. For me, it was a great place to meet my pal, who lives in Oxford, for a walk because it’s halfway between London and Oxford. Also, it is quite accessible, I took the Chiltern Railway from Marylebone direct to High Wycombe.

A short walk (or Uber ride) from there drops you right in the storied village of West Wycombe. The cluttered high street is full of ancient houses and pubs and the walk is easy to pick up from there.

My amigo planned to begin the walk at the strange and slightly unnerving attraction known as the Hellfire Caves. This National Trust site left me scratching my head. It was the creepy hangout of an illuminati band of the Georgian era, including such visitors as Benjamin Franklin and One-Eyed Willy. Either way, it was a strange but entertaining adventure into the man-made caves, complete with mannequins (not pictured).

Still puzzling over the purpose of these caves

On from there, we walked the trail through the Chiltern Hills that was largely unremarkable, but did provide a quiet respite from the otherwise urban surrounds. The walk is well organised, giving excellent waypoints and unique sites to see along the way. You can follow the full trail here at the National Trust’s site.

More importantly, on the way back we stumbled upon an excellent pop-up brewery that boasted local beer served from a sort of half-carpark, half-garage at Fisher’s Brew in High Wycombe. Afterward, we found exceptional dosas near the train station at Dosa Special.

4. North Wessex Downs AONB & The Bombay Sapphire Distillery

The botanicals greenhouse at the Bombay Distillery

In case you haven’t picked up on it, the walks are just lightly disguised ruses to sample the characterful pantheon of alcohol-serving parlours Britain has on offer. This walk was the same, only with some proximity to the North Wessex Downs AONB. We arrived in Andover, thwarted by train issues and found our way to Laverstoke by a combination of bus, foot, and magic. The trail starts in Laverstoke and bumbles through the charming village of Free Folk, very cute.

We also ambled into the middle of a very unusual pub crawl in Whitchurch, where incidentally one can also check out the historic local silk mill. The participants were dressed in all manner of costumes (eg Ketchup bottle and Pikachu) and running from pub to pub where they had to down a pint, in what appeared to be a competition. Ah, the bucolic simplicity of English country life!

Also along the way, we enjoyed the (perhaps too) family-friendly ambience of a notable pub, the Watership Down. The establishment has some connection with the author of the eponymous book. Through rolling fields of wheat and sheep, we made our way to the Bombay Sapphire Distillery and enjoyed a tour of their ‘example’ botanical green house, and more importantly enjoyed a cocktail on the house (included in the tour price). The tour was forgettable, but the ambience of the distillery, surrounds, and the magical flavours of the bar will not be soon forgotten. Definitely worth the schlep from London.

5. South Downs Way (Easbourne – Alfriston, including Seven Sisters)

Chalk it up to good attitude, but despite the rain we still enjoyed the gorgeous scenery

The South Downs Way is a part of a much longer walk that spans a 100+ mile National Trail from Eastbourne to Winchester (the ancient capital, which you may know from the Bernard Cornwell series The Last Kingdom). The section from Eastbourne to Alfriston which skirts the southern coast is reachable from central London with a quick switch in Brighton in just under two hours, and can easily be managed (by a relatively fit person and in good weather) in one day.

We did not encounter good weather, but instead torrential rain and gale force winds. We also witnessed some pretty hearty runners whose coastal 10K was unfortunately timed with this horrific weather. We were knocked over multiple times because the wind was so strong! The leg from Eastbourne to Cuckmere Haven was particularly slow going because of the heavy headwind.

Alfriston has ancient pubs, quaint shops, and a great Inn with nice vibes

I can only imagine the scenery on a normal day is fantastic, but the rain and heavy clouds made it all the more wild and beautiful. The walk itself is strenuous and was made more so by the rain. The Seven Sisters, the stand of tall chalk cliffs form a long and scenic path. Eventually, at Cuckmere Haven the trail turns inland toward Alfriston.

The walk takes you through the Southeast corner of the South Downs AONB

Alfriston and the darling little villages along the way, as you follow the Cuckmere River Valley, are some of the quaintest locales one can imagine. We decided to make it an overnight, staying in the charming little town of Alfriston over night. Passing quintessential pubs and beautiful countryside, the sheltered walk was quite a change from the battering we received on the coast.

The next day, we took the overland path back to Eastbourne which was equally beautiful, with stunning views of the seas breaking the elevated pastures, and an opportunity to see the purportedly iron-age chalk ‘Long Man of Wilmington’.

Taking the overland trail back gives you a different perspective

All-in-all, this is one of the easiest and most enjoyable excursions we’ve taken from London. There are many maps and guides available online (both official and not-so official), be sure to take some sturdy shoes if the weather calls for it. Hope you enjoy!

-Brian + Sophie

Christmas in Crete

The European sun is elusive in December, but this year we tried our luck to catch some lukewarm rays in Greece. We didn’t have much luck, but we did have fun in a winter wonderland of grilled meat and classical ruins with remarkably cheery folks.

Incredible distant view of the Acropolis from hills above Kaisariani

During the summer season direct flights to the Greek isles are a dime a dozen, come winter it’s a different story. All flights stop in Athens. So we made it a long layover both directions to Heraklion in Crete.

Athens

We arrived in Athens on Christmas day and were surprised to see that everyone was out and about — they were shopping and dining instead of at home with their families, as we’re accustomed to for the holidays. Our Airbnb was centrally located in Plaka, which meant we were within easy walking distance of the Acropolis and many other notable sites. Though all were closed for Christmas, we were able to get up pretty close to the mesmerising ruins without having to battle the usual hordes of tourists. After a quick lunch of kebabs with yogurt at O Thanasis taverna, we ambled up the hill to navigate the buildings bunched around the Parthenon.

After walking around the Acropolis, we continued to enjoy the view from a rooftop bar called A for Athens. With a spectacular panorama of the ancient city, it was a good place to take in the sunset.

Sophie outside the 11th Century monastery atop the hill
Street art in Plaka

Much of the city was still closed on the 26th, so we wandered between meals. Next door to our Airbnb was a modern little cafe called Lukumades, serving its namesake (something akin to Dunkin Donuts ‘munchkins’). Hot out of the fryer and traditionally served swimming in honey and cinnamon, these were an enticing snack. After breakfast number one, we made our way north towards dicey Omonia Square in pursuit of an authentic dairy bar. We found it: Stani. The interior felt like a small town American diner, and the food was simple, superior quality dairy products. Here we had a plate of thick, creamy sheep yogurt drizzled with honey and hearty walnuts.

These fantastic doughnut dough balls were a delight

Afterward, we felt like a stretch. We took the metro to Evangelismos station and walked about 45 minutes to reach the forest at Kaisariani. We followed the path beyond the cemetery and picked up the trail markers for the monastery. Our reward was a breathtaking view of the city and of the ancient Acropolis.

Good view of the surrounding city atop the rocks in the Acropolis Park

Euboea

On the way back from Crete, we spent another day in mainland Greece. Satisfied with our visit to Athens and wishing to explore further afield, we rented a car. We drove just under two hours to Euboea (Evia), the second largest island in Greece (after Crete), accessible from the mainland by bridge.

The road turns into a path and an exciting, goat-filled adventure

On Euboea, we headed to Mount Dirfys to hike Agali Gorge. A false start as we struggled to find the trailhead, soon enough we were climbing the steep trail up through the gorge. As the altitude increased, our lack of winter gear made us turn back. Even partway up we enjoyed some spectacular, snowy views!

Headed to the Gorge on a wintry Greek morning

As we slipped and slid back down, we kept hearing a strange call that sounded a lot like “hhhaaaalllp“. Confused by the plea, seemingly in English, we ran into a Greek couple after not too long who were completely unperturbed by the loud hollering. “What’s that noise?” we asked innocently, “Is someone in trouble d’you think?” They laughed. It was a mountain goat. Shortly thereafter, around a bend, sure enough, a small herd of goats stood bleating out their call for “hhhaaalllp”.

Despite 90% of the Greek population being present on the mountain that day, there was enough view for everyone

To get the full mountain view, we carried on driving the winding, icy road up the mountain. The domestic tourists thrilled in blocking the road, joyously parking half-submerged in snow banks while they posed for selfies.

Sophie, pictured here being a good sport despite not possessing the right shoes for snow trekking or goat combat

Chania

We arrived in Heraklion in the early evening after a quick flight from Athens and set out at once for Chania, a smaller city towards the west of Crete. We spent three nights at the charming Kanso Rooms, located in a quiet village just outside Chania. The kind manager gave us many rain-proof activities to keep us busy despite the torrential weather.

In the cave of Agia Sofia looking out at the gorge

The first night there we walked into nearby Galatas, the village by our hotel, for one of the best meals of our entire trip (and maybe our lives!) at Taverna Elia. We especially loved the casserole of gigantes beans, the local red wine and the friendly family who ran this establishment.

Next day, it was off to Elafonissi beach, with a diversion planned (courtesy of our host’s recommendation) to the charming little converted village of Milia, an eco-resort. Be careful to follow local directions, not Google Maps. We almost gave up after trying to follow a goat path and ripping the bottom out of our rental car. Such fun! (On an unrelated note, get full rental insurance).

An excellent “mountain beer” available at the top of the mountain

The cosy interior of the Taverna in Milia

Nothing like a warm fire on a rainy afternoon

The abandoned village was purchased and turned into an eco-resort, it’s idyllic

After our pleasant lunch in the taverna in Milia, and the harrowing switchbacks to get up there, we coasted down to one of the most famous beaches in Crete. On the way, we had passed an ancient Orthodox monastery in a cave dedicated to Agia Sophia located in a scenic gorge. Though we had heavy rain much of the way, once we arrived at the beach, it was abandoned and beautiful.

The following day we enjoyed the local flavour of Chania, including torrential rain, really excellent seafood and the incredible Venetian Lighthouse and seawall. The winter season means that not many places are open, but we managed to find great local coffee and many fun shops to explore. With few tourists and even fewer locals, there was no lack of good service and friendly shopkeepers eager to help.

A word of warning, many locals in Greece are excited about a phenomenon known as Nanou’s Donuts. Don’t get the f$&%# donuts – they’re literally frozen pieces of trash. We tried three times to be sure. Yep, we confirmed they suck — stick with Lukumades.

Not wanting to spend the entire day in the car yet again, we set off to see a gorge to stretch our limbs. We had to change course many times because of severe flooding (from the many-mentioned torrential rains). Our diverted course meant we stumbled on the incredible ancient Arkadi monastery (it was filled to the brim with cats), a bizarre fresh water lake (still not sure why it’s a tourist attraction) and a Georgio’s Mountain Attack (AKA Patsos Escape) — all on the way to Patsos Gorge. (Yes, we did spend the whole day in the car). At the end of the long day, we got a few donuts at Nanou’s. They’re the worst.

At Georgio’s Mountain attack, we did a small hike down the flooded gorge and through a slightly creepy bit of woods with sheep skulls stuck on sticks, there was also an abandoned shack where a voice went “oooooohhhh”. We hurried back, eager to leave, but Georgio’s mom insisted on cooking pork steaks and oregano fries, and preparing a massive Greek salad for us. Meanwhile, she kindly toasted our socks and shoes by the fire, they had gotten soaked in the rain. She didn’t speak any English, of course, so when she wrapped our feet in newspaper we were momentarily confused. For entertainment, Georgio told us the story of how he befriended an American tourist who wrote a book that briefly mentioned his village on page 255. He showed us a copy, and then proceeded to recite the main points of the book for 45 minutes while we gnawed on the porksteak (it was tougher than a Nanou’s donut).

We also spent two days in Rethimno. Chania has everything Rethimno has, but is nicer. Maybe it’s good in the summer but it’s mostly a concrete maze full of diesel fumes and NO Nanou’s in sight! Although, the fort was cool. And Sophie did find some shops that were acceptable.

Heraklion – in the halls of the Minotaur

The only reason I agreed to go to Crete at all was to see my friend, the Minotaur. He’s one of the best bits of Greek mythology and I had to visit Minos’ palace at Knossos. Naturally, being as many thousands of years dilapidated as it is, it leaves much to the imagination. Still, there is something special about seeing the spot of the fabled labyrinth where the Minotaur lived.

Mesmerizing artifacts a plenty… perhaps the first Nanou’s Donut?

The history museum in Heraklion was pretty fantastic. All sorts of ancient artifacts from the civilizations that pre-date the Hellenic conquest of Crete – (Phoenicians, Minoans etc). There were seals, tablets, swords, and a number of intact sarcophagus-style clay burial pots, some fascinating stuff. Also, hilariously mis-translated signs made for ‘funny moment’. Unfortunately, the Hellenic wing was closed for maintenance. I blame the Romans.

The last incredible meal in Crete was at Hairi. They had traditional Cretan food, rather than just generic ‘Greek’ food. Sophie had a Cretan pasta and I had a porridge-like soup that was savoury and brothy, and delicious. It was a bit like a congee, but much much better.

Although Crete in the winter was great, looking out from the inside of our lockdown Corona-house now, a warm beach and a fresh Greek salad sounds pretty ace. Next time I get a chance, I’ll raise an Alfa Beer and say “Cheers to Crete” (preferably on the beach in Crete).

-Brian

The Amazon & Eje Cafetero: (Colombian Honeymoon Part II)

Flying into the coffee triangle is both frightening and stunning

Into the mountains… and drinking the coffee

Our planning for our honeymoon was a negotiation. Sophie wanted to go to the beach, so initially we visited Cartagena and Parque Tayrona on the coast. Minca wasn’t far, so we checked out the Sierra Nevadas and went on a no-stone-unturned birding tour with crazy Fidel. So, in exchange, I negotiated for my part of the journey: the verdant coffee region and the mesmerizing Amazon rainforest.

Coffee Culture

Coffee cherries ripening on the tree at a local Finca

The coffee triangle in Colombia (Eje Cafetero), is the most peaceful, stable, and (dare-I-say) most beautiful part of Colombia. The mountainous region is populated by coffee, fruit, and cacao plantations and generally friendly people (in our experience, not the case throughout the rest of the country). According to first-hand knowledge from the area, we have it on good authority that this is because the region has seen minimal conflict compared with cities like Medellin and Bogota. Though Medellin is close, and we did not visit, its urban chaos and up-and-comingness feel a world away. Here in the peaceful valleys and cool mountain jungles, the vibe is safe and happy.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BxF19xKh9UB/

Nowhere is this more evident than in the towns of Salento and Filandia, in Quindío. While the larger cities surrounding the region like Pereira and Armenia are hectic and more desperate, these idyllic little mountain towns are full of ancient coffee shops, tiny dancing halls, and family-run shops. Strolling around Salento, we stopped for a pick-me-up in a famous coffee shop with a hundred year old espresso machine that has been run by generations of the same family. Their coffee was very nice, though it was slightly offensive that I asked for milk in it — sorry gods of coffee, I let you down.

On the streets of Salento

Being pathetic extranjeros we needed someone to show us around, an overbearing old guide, who was way too in-our-faces. He insisted his English was perfect and there was no need for us to practise our Spanish, one of the other main reasons we chose to honeymoon in Colombia…fine. However, his English mainly consisted of two phrases in reference to everything we saw as both: “Very typical” and “Very special”. Although, to be fair it was a very special place, didn’t seem that typical to us.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BxDnGEOBe2E/

Cocora Valley and the Truffula Trees

Still, the old man served as a good guide for the overly-touristed (domestic tourists mostly) Cocora Valley. Here the Seussian wax palms grow upwards of 200 feet. Stripped from their forest friends, for herd grazing, the palms are quickly dying. However, some remain in the un-adulterated bits of the forest. Once removed from their natural habitat, unfortunately they cannot live long. All the same, they are a magnificent sight to behold. Even more majestic, is the rare opportunity bestowed on passers-by, on a clear day, to see the mighty Condor soaring above. With a 7-10 ft wingspan, seeing this glorious bird of prey was one of the most thrilling experiences in recent memory.

The wax palms tower over the valley where pudgy tourists struggle up steep paths to try glimpse the valley through the shifting clouds

After seeing the valley, where a few ranchers have cornered the ‘tourist’ market on wax palm selfies, you can take a much more interesting hike deeper into the rainforest. A trail winds up into the mountains, where some trekkers were starting a multi-day hike over the hump of the Los Nevados through the national park. Some parties had mules because of the altitude. Perhaps next time! The most interesting part of hiking through the jungle was that we got to see a few of the wax palms in their natural habitat, where they thrive. When their amigos are stripped away, they slowly begin to die, and all one can think of is the Lorax.

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw0gqvXBGge/

On the steep drive up (which was a bit rough and tumble as the roads are in a state), we stopped for a view of one of the valleys and tried agua panela con ron. This is essentially sugar cane juice, a daily staple but this version has spices and a healthy double helping of rum to help with the cool mountain air and altitude change – Cocora Valley sits at between 6000-7000 feet.

Beautiful sunset as we arrived at the Finca where we stayed

After we came down, we had an excellent chance to get a firsthand look at a local finca, where coffee and an assortment of exotic fruits and vegetables were grown. This was both a diversification to hedge against the volatile price of coffee, but also a way to promote biodiversity on the finca and therefore attempt to keep the coffee borers (pests that are threatening coffee beans globally) at bay. As part of the tour of his farm, we had an INCREDIBLE lunch. Such flavour combinations as mango + carrot salad, beet and pineapple, and other strange fruits, fish, and vegetables that we’ve never seen before. The food was not only fresh, but so surprising in the punchy, innovative way it was presented. In Cocora Valley, we also had the paesano lunch which was fantastic, the trout in the river are stocked from Canada some decades ago and have thrived, truly some of the freshest river fish I’ve ever tasted, along with these fat, Colombian red beans that were the size of a pound coin and had a marrow-bean consistency. So good.

High above coffee-growing altitude near Cocora Valley.

After we saw the farm, the owner also showed us the coffee process. The picking, sorting, washing, processing, and then we tried some of the brewed coffees from the farm. He explained that he comes from a long line of coffee growers, but for the first time he’s cutting out the middleman, and instead becoming a direct supplier with a storefront. For a hundred years or so this has been the main difficulty for small coffee growers, their profits are swallowed up by the industry association which sets prices and demands high tariffs. For a very long time this has meant incredibly competitive prices internationally, and a lot of coffee growers have been bankrupted as a result. Another negative outcome has been that the majority of high quality coffee has been exported, so that Colombians who grow some of the world’s finest coffee, very sadly, never even get to taste the wonderful stuff.

“That’s all changing,” he told us, as we entered his charming little shop on the high street in the city of Quindío. Here, he sells his locally-sourced coffee directly to the growing middle class in Colombia, and of course, the occasional tourist. It didn’t take a coffee expert to realise the coffee he peddled was incredibly aromatic and unique. With several of his own blends and unique beans (such as the peaberry), there was no shortage of variety in flavour when we sampled cups. Historically, even growers like his grandfather, would drink the atrociously low-quality coffee that wasn’t ‘fit’ for consumption on an international market. Even today, you will find this is why sugar is always offered with the coffee in Colombia, to make it remotely palatable. The coffee from Cafe Altura, however, required none.

Cafe Altura, all the coffee is sourced from the small eco-farm where we were given a tour

Heliconias, they were growing everywhere

Weird pepper-like fruit

Pomegranates

Afterwards, when leaving I had a chance to try another local delicacy lechón. This is pork, prepared in a very typical way. The pig is butchered, the skin is preserved, and stuffed with beans, rice, and spices and all of the meat that was removed, then slow roasted for a few days. It’s incredibly rich and fatty, but really delicious.

Rolling on the river

I’ve also wanted to go to the Amazon since forever, and now it’s with some sense of urgency that we rolled it into our Colombian honeymoon. It seems a bit counterintuitive to travel to the Amazon as a tourist when you’re hoping it will be around for future generations, and access to it opens up and as it gets more developed, it’s difficult to say whether eco-tourism really can be sustainable and help preserve natural places. Wild places definitely can’t be preserved in this way, but even environmental optimists will tell you that new strategies are needed in an age of climate change and population explosion. So, I’ll stop short of pretending that our trip isn’t harmful to the place we want to visit, we flew to Colombia, flew to Leticia, and then took a long boat ride down the mighty Amazon river to an eco-lodge, where a few other gritty Westerners who were curious enough to endure the most miserable boat ride of their lives were encamped.

It was a rough boat ride, but while uncomfortable it was also an unforgettable experience to speed down the mother of all rivers

Few people realise that Colombia has a long corridor extending down into the Amazon Rainforest. In fact, the difficulty in transport links make arriving there a bit of a challenge. Having not been to other parts of the rainforest, I can’t say it’s more pristine, but landing in Leticia, it’s a vast sea of green, marred only by the occasional small settlement. This is changing, a new airport is being built, and like the rest of the world, it’s not long until it gets fibre and box stores.

Besides being the sole transport link, the riverboats are also a delivery service and a school bus

For now, though, Leticia feels like the wild west. Warned in online forums not to linger in the town, for fear of running afoul of drug, human, and illegal animal and mineral traffickers, we scurried on our way with the helpful guidance of the representative of the Calanoa Lodge (our eventual destination).

Leticia is one of the worst-smelling places I’ve ever been, it’s also pretty scary — perhaps the new airport will help the economy develop beyond smuggling

Before boarding the exhilarating river ferry (more like a rudimentary barge), she recommended we grab a snack in the sad, odiferous ramshackle settlement. In summary, not a capital of cuisine. The food in the Amazon, that we had, bordered on palatable — and there was nothing between meal times because there was nowhere to get snacks, being literally in the middle of the forest.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BxIHgrtB6Z-/

When we arrived at our lodge deep in the Amazon, near the Mocagua village, we weren’t surprised to find that there was no wifi and no cell service. For the first time in a while, there was no social media, no television, and no light. It was excellent. However, re-calibrating to the old school form of entertaining oneself is surprisingly difficult. Fortunately, when the lights went out, there were a number of things to keep you occupied, such as star gazing and getting a completely quiet nights’ sleep.

Our little hut, shared with many jungle creatures

Our cabin wasn’t anywhere near airtight. That meant sleeping in a mosquito net, and for good measure with a health dose of 50% DEET (not too threatening to the monstrous bugs that dwell in the Amazon). I definitely didn’t sleep as well as I would have liked due to being woken up by things crawling on me, though this didn’t happen too often. Turning on the lights in the middle of the night was a pretty frightening experience though, there were roaches the size of an iPhone, moths that hummed as loud as a small child, and crickety-looking things that could have qualified for a zipcode. There were also giant tarantulas right outside our door. So naturally, we went out in the pitch-balck night for a frightening rainforest walk (with a guide of course!). This is when the rainforest comes to life and the inspiring symphony of frogs, crickets, birds, and cast of thousands of other creatures begin their haunting, nightly chorus. It’s a truly beautiful sound (you can briefly hear the prelude before dark in the above video).

: A cool moth with a false eye is out hunting

: Tarantula hanging right outside our little cabin

: One of the neon frogs that the native Mocagua traditionally use for venomous arrows

: A couple creepy stick bugs, a lot larger than they look here

Among the other incredible creatures were the thumb-sized bullet ants, whose bite apparently feels like being shot (hence the name). All manner of frogs, over-sized moths, and arthropods were crunching along on the forest floor. It was a bit overwhelming when stomping around over a spectrum of venomous things in the dark, mostly you keep your flashlight pointed toward your toes.

After three days of cold showers, constant assault by bugs, hanger, and humidity, Sophie exhausted her ‘good-sportedness’, however she deserves serious commendation for her grit

The next day, we got to go to the flooded Mocagua island, where the village used to be located before the river starting swallowing it as the banks overflowed. Now, the entire jungle there has sunken and the water has risen high up on the trees. Here we saw an incredible ‘skull-faced’ vulture, and many other birds who take advantage of few predators able to reach them on a flooded island. When we came back to the island a second day, we glimpsed a two-toed sloth slowly making his way up a tree and we went fishing (and were thwarted by tenacious piranhas who stole our bait).

Piranhas took our jobs

Our cabin was a lovely little spot for a nap, with a hammock and ringside seat for iguana fights. ‘Old Jim’, the ancient iguana was the defending champion of the tree that overlooked our cabin, and on the first day we knew tensions between him and the half green, half-brown lizards, the ‘big Charlies” were high. What we didn’t realise is that there was another iguana, ‘big William’ who was hustling in on Jim’s turf. We watched this drama unfold from the comfort of our hammock, where during the grand finale an eagle swooped in and forced the iguanas and Charlies to go ducking for cover. ‘Very typical, very special’ daytime drama that took the place of telenovelas.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B4XVYPGA5Rs/

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

How else do you spend three days in the jungle? Well, apart from a bunch of boat rides, jungle walks, a visit to the village (which ironically has wifi, but no mosquito nets) and monkey refuge (where Sophie made so many monkey friends), we enjoyed the ambience, battled with Cretaceous period insects, listened to the birds, and navel-gazed a bit. Also, scratching mosquito bites was a favorite past time.

Sophie was a good sport about the bugs… and the heat… and the mud, rain, smell, and danger.

All in all, when our time there was done, I reached the inescapable conclusion — much like the concrete jungle, the Amazon is an incredible place to visit but I would never be able to handle the roaches nor the humidity, mosquitoes, lack of access to clean water, and diet of sugar water and weird yams. Still, it was a trip I won’t soon forget.

Come for the boat ride, stay for the sunset

-Brian

Colombian Honeymoon Part I

When faced with the question of where to go for our (delayed) honeymoon, we batted around several ideas before landing on one country that ticked all our boxes. We wanted:

Luxuriant beaches
Hikeable mountains
Vibrant cities
Charming countryside
Thrill of adventure
Reasonably affordable
Spanish speaking (as that’s one of our couple hobbies)

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick: Colombia

(Side note: highly recommend a delayed honeymoon as it prolongs the newlywed fun, takes the planning burden off of the pre-wedding stress storm, and gives your bank account a much-needed chance to recover).

How’d that get in there?!

Once we decided on our destination, we started to plan the trip in our usual elaborate style, but quickly found we couldn’t commit the time to do it well. Definitely wanting to avoid a pre-packaged holiday or tour bus situation, we were intrigued when we found kimkim to help us build a bespoke travel experience. By pairing us with a local Colombian agency and connecting us through their online platform, kimkim enabled us to book OUR honeymoon at cost somewhere between UK and Colombian prices. They collected a dozen bits of information off of us – what we wanted to do, what type of activities we prefer, what type of activities we hate, how much we were will to spend per day, etc. and within a week we had a fully customized itinerary. Through their online platform, we were able to chat and call with our Colombian agent to ensure everything was as we liked before handing over our card details. The best part of this was that, without being shadowed by a dedicated tour guide for two weeks, we were able to seamlessly travel extensively across Colombia semi-independently with cars lined up for airport transfers and guides for remote mountain hikes, but no chaperone on “explore the city days” or to hold our hands getting on an airplane. We could cover so much more ground because we weren’t spending precious time figuring out what taxi company we could trust to take us to our hotel or debating which birdwatching guide seemed most trustworthy.

So, with very little planning on our part (except for an accelerated course of rabies pre-exposure vaccine) we were off!

Caribbean Coast

https://www.instagram.com/p/BwfsG7_hnBU/

Santa Marta

After transferring overnight through Bogota, we began our honeymoon in the northwest of the country in a small city called Santa Marta which is commonly used as basecamp for lost city trekkers and the less-wild Parque Nacional Natural Tayrona explorers, like us. We arrived to a hot, sunny day and immediately went to the harbour for ceviche from Emmanuel’s. For dessert, we grabbed some freshly sliced mango with lemon juice to munch on while strolling through the market stalls along the water. Though there’s not a lot to see by foot in Santa Marta, but we did manage to visit the Catedral de Santa Marta and the funky, colorful streets near the popular Parque de los Novios.

Catedral de Santa Marta in the busy heart of the city

In the evening, we took in the surroundings from the modest hotel’s rooftop bar where we were the only guests jabbering in broken Spanish to the bartender. Here, we took advantage of what would be the first of many stunning sunsets we’d see in Colombia.

Accommodation: Hotel 1525

Parque Tayrona

The next day we took the hour long drive north to Parque Tayrona early in the morning to beat the heat. All visitors need to register at the gate and foreign visitors pay a relative premium (plus insurance) for the day – nevertheless, this national park is WELL worth the $20 fee. Most visitors start in the north of the park, which is the most walkable and offers diverse landscapes within just a few hours.

Just a mediocre view in Parque Tayrona

Our tour took us over rocky crests, through brushy dunes, under tall monkey-filled canopies and to meet some indigenous people selling coconuts. The best part was when we were taken to a secret stretch of beach we were could privately splash in the sea to cool off before carrying on. Three or four hours into the park a is a popular cove for people to sun and eat arepas before turning back or setting up at a camp called Cabo San Juan. Here, we saw a giant iguana just running through the people to get the most choice spot on the high boulders to catch some rays.

Iguana King of Cabo San Juan

After our excellent adventure in the park, we retreated – fully – to a WiFi-free, hot water-free cabana further north, right on the ocean. Though the host at this campus of backroad cabanas was a super weirdo, the resort was set amidst lush palm trees with coastline and mountains as far as the eye could see. With just solar panels for energy, we were able to properly disconnect and just let vacation mode sink in as the sun sank into the turquoise waters.

Just another boring ole sunset on the Caribbean coast

We stayed in our beach retreat for two days, during which time ate a few kilos of mangoes brought in upon request by a man on a motorbike, walked a few miles along the beach without seeing more than a dozen people, and splashed in the Caribbean sea when we were too warm. An especially funny moment (for me, anyways) was when – due to jet lag – we woke up at 4am and sat on the beach for a couple of hours watching the sunrise. Sounds idyllic, right? Well, the rub was that the “resort” wasn’t open yet and therefore, Brian was without coffee for four whole groggy, morning hours. When it finally came time for breakfast, Brian was further unnerved to see fresh juice at every place setting, but no coffee. The host came over to us and – thank goodness – offered us coffee. Having noticed that most people in Colombia drink their coffee black (and full of sugar, but more on that later) he requested in Spanish that he be served milk with his coffee. But, the waiter was confused and returned with a steaming mug of milk. Brian almost cried.

Dumb sunsets always ruining good pictures…

Accommodation: Tayrona Tented Lodge

Minca

Wanting to make the most of the spectacularly diverse scenery in Departmento del Magdalena in northern Colombia, we went against our better judgement and went to the touristy town in the Sierra Nevada mountains, Minca. Known as the ecological capital of Colombia, this small town itself is derelict and strewn with white tech bros sporting dreads, but beauty lies all around it. It was raining when we arrived, so our insane transfer driver from Tayrona offered to take us up the mountain to the famous Cascada de Marinka (waterfall) – for a steep fee. I acknowledge that it was a nice waterfall, but really nothing more.

Minca’s most famous waterfall

We walked down the mountain, unwilling to hail one of several motorbikes for hire zipping down the steep road for fear of instant death, and we were rewarded to see some remarkable old growth trees that were about as wide as our flat! We arrived back in town about an hour later and were disappointed to find that a few of the very few cafes and bakeries were closed, so we ended up eating a sad attempt at Western food (and we would have way preferred Colombian food) on the terrace of a smoke shop. We watched many tourists stop by to stock up on hash before disappearing into the undergrowth of their beards again.

A view in the Sierra Nevada mountains of Minca

By the afternoon the sun was out and our bellies were full, so we summoned the courage to climb up towards a different peak, this time going towards a cacao farm. It was hard going, but the views were well worth it. We could even see where our journey started in Santa Marta in the distance. Towards the end the path got a bit confusing, exacerbated by our collective heat stroke, but we eventually made it to Finca La Candelaria where we were rewarded with free coffee and bananas while we waited on the stone patio for the next small group tour to begin.

The tour took us down into the vegetation to see cacao pods on the trees, as well as a myriad of other symbiotic produce such as coffee and bananas, of course! The tour was simple enough that we could understand it in Spanish, but one poor guy admitted to not speaking Spanish very well and was just patronized the whole time by the guide trying to help him by talking very loudly and slowly in his face, with wild hand gestures, despite the fact that the tour could have effectively been delivered in silence.

: Luxurious spa treatments on down on the farm

: A bodysnatcher pod

: Brian sees… a chickadee

: There’s birds in them there mountains

The second part of the tour covered the mechanics of how cacao is processed to make cocoa butter, cacao nibs and chocolate. We sampled cacao seeds right from the pod, which were fruity, cottony white slime balls – weird, but not bad, and even got cacao facials. All in all, a fun little jaunt made all the more enjoyable by the sunset on our way back down.

We awoke very early the next day for a bird watching expedition arranged by Kimkim with the same crazy man who brought us to Minca from Tayrona and enjoyed taking shortcuts through slums at top speed in a rickety old wannabe Jeep Willys. Fortunately, this former drug runner was partnered with a slightly more sane and coherent avian enthusiast who led us and another couple on a slow stroll through the mountains to spot lots of brightly colored birds which bored him and lots of things that looked like chickadees that just thrilled him. We were most excited to see a toucan high up in the trees, but we also saw many types of parrots and parakeets. The tour was only meant to be a couple of hours, but the guide became obsessed with finding one particular migratory bird that would soon be flying north for their winter. So he dragged us up and down the mountains for a good five hours without food or a break (except when we broke into a finca to steal the workers coffee #whenincolombia). Luckily, he did eventually find the bird hanging around a compost heap where we then had to wait for him to get the perfect photo of the perfect bird, ay yi yi!

Accommodation: Hotel Sweet Harmony

Cartagena

The color explosion that is Cartagena

That afternoon we were picked up from our hotel and driven about 5 hours to Cartagena. Domestic travel in Colombia is only really safely done via car or plane, rarely bus and never train (there simply isn’t a network). The ride took us along the coast, through Barranquilla and Parque Isla de Salamanca. We stopped at both Wawa-quality convenience stores and roadside stools bearing bags of mangos. We arrived at our swanky hotel (thanks Kimkim) right by the clock tower in the old city at dusk and enjoyed a roof top bar quite unlike that of our first hotel before setting out for dinner. On the recommendation of the hotel staff for Colombian Caribbean food, we walked over to La Mulata for zesty seafood and sumptuous coco rice, a Cartagena speciality. We were grateful for the pre-dinner fortification because the streets of Cartagena at night were sketchy – not stabby or kidnappy sketchy, but Times Square sketchy. We found that, every night after sunset, Brian would be offered drugs every half block that we walked because, unfortunately, we do scream tourist.

Street scene: Cartagena

Street scenes of Colonial buildings

Las Islas del Rosario

The next day we took a speedboat from the harbor to Las Islas del Rosario. This was a day-trip that friends (and the internet) recommended to us, or rather to me as a beach lover. Truly, this is a beautiful destination to include in any Cartagena itinerary, BUT it is serviced in the most bizarre way. Essentially, each island is a bead in the “rosary” of islands and each island/bead is its own resort. So, the deal is that each speedboat is owned by a resort and it takes you to that one specific resort island for a few hours, during which time you are subjected to the worst resort attributes including planned activities signified by ringing bells *gasp*, incessant upselling of massages *gasp*, and exorbitantly priced cocktails *faint*. This is interspersed with a fish lunch buffet and some random artisans hawking the wares to you while you splash in the shallows. The hour long ride to the islands is an efficient way to see the more modern leg of Cartagena that wraps around the bay and is pretty fun, in a log-flume ride kinda way. But truth be told, you almost spend more time going to and fro than you do lounging on the white sand on the practically private beaches. So, it’s a bit of a toss up whether I’d carry on this recommendation. Brian hated it thoroughly.

Life on the islands

Gente de Mar resort

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bwx0o0OBtkt/

That night, relying on another recommendation, we had a marvelous dinner just down the street from our hotel at Maria. As my wise friend April shared when recommending this place, it’s like going to a hip, haute 5-star restaurant in NYC, but paying a quarter of the price – including drinks! Creative cocktails featuring local fruits we couldn’t pronounce, multiple types of ceviche, and expertly cooked fish – what more could you want? We do carry on this recommendation.

Getsemani

On our second full day in Cartagena we were left to our own devices, so we started the morning by walking out of the old walled city and crossing into the next neighborhood, Getsemani. Vibrantly decorated and nearly tourist free, Getsemani is a far cry from Ciudad Antigua (the old city), but is in fact steeped with its own historical markers and is en route to the castle. We spent an hour or so wandering the quiet streets and drinking little coffees in the church square under the blazing sun. There’s a lot of Cartagena we didn’t get to see, but I’m glad we got to see this one authentic corner of it (before the hipsters fully Brooklynize it).

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We kept walking from here over an ancient stone wall and bridge to reach Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas. Though it is possible to walk from the old city to this site, the last bit of the journey was a tad sketchy and we did see a car catch on fire on our way back so…yeah, spring for an Uber. Anyways, the fort (16th century colonial outpost) was built atop a hill with a great view all around. Today, you can still walk along the parapet and take silly photos with the cannons. It is well preserved and you can see more than enough in an hour. Note, we didn’t find any bathrooms here so that was awkward.

Colonial era fort with cannons and all

Ciudad Antigua

After a quick dip in our hotel’s rooftop pool (oh and before I forget, the breakfast buffet was also outstanding), we were refreshed enough to head out into the busy, beautiful and boiling throughways of Ciudad Antigua – the walled city beside the sea. Part of the neighborhood was without power, but ceviche is a dish best served cold so we dined al fresco on raw salmon and avocado tostados and a mountain of guacamole that cost just pennies. Avocados and mangoes are so abundant in Colombia that they practically give them away, which we made an effort to take advantage of. Fueled up, I managed to drag Brian through a couple hours of shopping as long as I interspersed it with cocktail stops. The shopping was excellent, everything from handicrafts to chic boutiques, to stylish name brands.

The old streets in Cartagena

We made an effort to get a spot on the ocean side of the wall to watch the sun set over the modern high rises in the distance. We were approached many times over the course of an hour by beer sellers, tour guides and folks looking for some spare change. Memorably, we spent a good twenty minutes talking to two little Venezuelan boys who were trying to get some money by selling boxes of cookies to tourists. Throughout our time in Colombia, we saw dozens of Venezuelan migrants trying to restart their lives here, even selling their own Venezuelan currency on the roadside for fractions of a cent per bolívar.

Iglesia de San Pedro Claver

After talking to the boys from Caracas and a tour guide that was so pleased that Brian had a conversation with him just for the sake of it, rather than shooing him away like most tourists would (me included), we went for our final fabulous meal in Cartagena. We ate at Candé, a well known spot for traditional Cartagena Caribbean food, decor and dancing. I enjoyed a local crab and rice dish while Brian adventurously selected the baby shark stew. Every 15 minutes of so, a male and female dancer would appeared and danced in the middle of this busy restaurant, an interpretive dance that acted out a creole love story complete with betrayal and deceit — each time in different, more elaborate costumes. At one point, one of them was the grim reaper and tried to kill Brian while I egged them on. Not long after, I stepped away to use the ladies and came back to the woman trying to kiss Brian. It was weird, but the food was excellent, as was always the case in Cartagena.

Drinks over a well!

Accommodation: Hotel Santa Catalina

Right, so that was the first half of our amazing honeymoon and I’m going to stop now before I make myself hungrier. Part II coming soon!

Shot of newer city in Cartagena on the way to the islands

-Sophie

The Blue Danube: Budapest & Bratislava

Given that we were essentially exiled to eastern Europe for the summer (happily though!), I refused to waste this opportunity to see the famous Prague and Budapest of the new modern classic EuroTrip itinerary. But Brian was less than thrilled with following the beaten path, so for every one one of my heavily touristed cities, we agreed to go to one of his under-visited choices. So between Poland and my return to London at the end of August, we agreed on a series of week-long stays in Budapest, Bratislava, Brno and Prague. In this post, I will share our stories from Budapest and Bratislava — more to come on the other two!

Here we are in front of that ol’ blue Danube

Budapest

We took an overnight bus to Budapest from Kraków, which sounds like a torture devised by a madman, but in fact, the long-journey coaches in eastern (and most of central) Europe are reasonably clean, comfortable, and timely. Rolling across Slovakia through the misty night was hauntingly beautiful and, while not refreshing as a proper night’s sleep, we still arrived in Budapest the next morning eager to explore. Thanks, FlixBus!

Before we go any further, I have to admit that Brian was right (yes, it kills me). We had a fine time here, but on the whole we both felt that Budapest was over-hyped. Worth a visit certainly, but as you will come to know, Dear Reader, those forgotten cities like Bratislava and Brno were the real gems on our journey. With a high concentration of tourists in the summer, obviously, Budapest was crowded, dirty and filled with tourist traps like “ruined bars” and craft beer gardens crafted for collecting foreign dollars and pounds. BUT, I knew this and was still happy to see what all the fuss was about, even if the authenticity of the fuss was based on tourism and not native culture.

Pest

After a first uncomfortable encounter of a drugged out prostitute throwing bottle caps at acai bowl-eating tourists in a highly rated coffee shop near the main train station, we were ready to get stuck in with Budapest. We spent our first day after checking into our cute Airbnb loft exploring the Jewish quarter, poking our heads into New York Cafe, an opulent coffee house that opened in 1894, and enjoying some fine Hungarian fare, including hortobágyi palacsinta (savory stuffed pancakes), chicken paprikash with egg dumplings, some stewed rooster comb and balls and, of course, goulash. By dusk, we found ourselves well-fed and sleepy in the heart of Pest (no, that’s not a term of derision), looking across the blue Danube at Buda. We lazily took in the impressive sites of St. Stephen’s Basilica and the vast Hungarian Parliament Building. We were disappointed to find the opera house under construction, but enjoyed people watching on the snooty streets nearby.

A common sight in the 7th district

In Budapest’s 7th district we found a buzzing street of lads lads lads, food trucks, and ruined pubs. To clarify, ruined pubs are a once-edgy, now mandatory feature on the Budapest tourist circuit. These are what I’d call “dive bars with a European flair”, housed primarily in a languishing neighborhood. We went to the original, Szimpla, which sort of felt like a haunted, multi-story junk shop with several bars serving Jäger. It was…interesting, but not really the sort of sticky place we like to spend time. Leaving the pub, we came across a stall selling Hungarian chimney cakes. This wrapped pastry dessert is a traditional festive treat and is now sold year round in much of Budapest. They are traditionally rolled in sugar and now you can get so much more, including cocoa, cinnamon and filled with ice cream. Kinda like a less-buttery Auntie Anne’s cinnamon sugar pretzel – delicious!

Buda

The view of Pest from Buda

We devoted a sunny Sunday to exploring the picturesque Buda side of the city. Set upon a hill with a view of the sweeping view Danube and the vast reaches of Pest, this side of the city can easily be reached by bus, train or foot. This is home to Buda Castle, the Fisherman’s Bastion (super weird), Matthias Church, and the generally quaint stores and cafés filling in the castle district. It’s definitely worth a visit for the views alone, and we enjoyed wandering away from the tourist area and found ourselves winding down steep cobbled streets when, behold, we found the locals at the mall! We did indeed eat Hungarian food at a mall food court – I wouldn’t recommend it, but it was certainly interesting (and Brian liked his meal).

The quaint streets of Buda

Heading back up the hill, I started Googling “wine”, as I often do on a stroll-along weekend day. I read that there was a wine bar just at the border of the tourist track with excellent reviews and references to a cave. So, naturally, we had a destination!

But it proved near impossible to find. We circled round and round a Hilton and a Starbucks before finally, so hot we thought we’d melt, we went against everything we knew and entered the cool lobby of the hotel. After some snooping around, we saw some old Americans toddle down a corridor, so we followed, thinking they might be onto something. They weren’t, but we found a creepy staircase winding down into a dark pit that looked so unlike the rest of the hotel we knew that, at long last, we had found Faust Wine Cellar! It was very cool, literally.

Enjoying our wine tasting in Faust Cellar

This fabulous surprise within the walls of a 13th century cloister was one of the most enjoyable activities in our whole Eastern Europe trip, let alone Budapest. For something like $35 a person (which feels downright frivolous in Hungary) we enjoyed three hours of wine tasting of exclusively Hungarian wines and a verbal tour of Hungary’s impressive wine region – who knew!? And the wine was excellent. You may be wondering why, if it’s so good, you’ve never seen it offered on a menu or on sale in a decent wine store? That’s because it’s so good the Hungarians don’t want to share it with the rest of the world. Seriously, that’s why.

Oh, and the cheesy biscuits. Can’t forget the cheesy biscuits. It’s like a flippin’ Red Lobster with Brian emulating his dad asking for more cheesy biscuits every half hour. Called pogacsa these little scone-like treats were an excellent antidote to wine-induced hunger.

Back on the Pest side of Budapest

Back to Pest

I was working the rest of the week, but we made a few evening excursions and Brian had some solo daytime adventures. A great way to unwind and get some culture at the end of a long digital day was visiting the Baths. While there are several public bath options, we were near to the most popular and recommended option, Szechenyi. This bath house has 18 indoor and outdoor pools of hot spring water, steam rooms, spa services, and a couple of bars to be enjoyed throughout the day and evening. Set in a picturesque golden edifice from the early 1900s, we enjoyed jumping from cold to hot to deep to shallow baths and sneering at the French teenagers who couldn’t keep their bikini-clad bodies to themselves. After 90 minutes, we were adequately prune-y and hungry for more traditional Hungarian food, which we found at Paprika Vendéglő. I made a mistake in ordering and ended up with a plate full of goose liver – not a bad outcome – and we tried some traditional liquor, Zwack Unicum, which is imbibed as a bitter, medicinal (in all senses) shot.

Great Central Market…before the crowds

We also got up early one morning to visit Great Market Hall (also known as Central Market Hall) before my workday started, just as the vendors were setting up for the day. This late 19th century market is a two-story cavern brimming with paprika sachets, cured meats, dried fruits and nuts, and friendly old women. Since we beat the crowds and the heat, we were able to amble around unencumbered with a cup of coffee in hand. I definitely recommend this.

Margaret Island, Aquincum, and the worst museum

For those desiring something that smacks more of antiquity than the new-age Pest, and even the marbled hills of Buda, a short tram ride away outside of the city are the ruins of Aquincum. With a good-sized settlement, complete with a hilariously translated museum, and an exquisite (functional) recreation of the water organ that was played to appease the equites, this site is certainly worth a visit – and the the headache of figuring out how to get there.

Likewise, another site to entice the curious traveler is Margaret Island. A local favorite for ice cream, biking, boating, and swimming — it was also one of the few shady spots to be found in all of Budapest. Generously canopied trees cover the island which is veined by walking paths and ringed by a bike route. The island boasts a mysterious observation tower, a theatre, swimming pools, rentable go-karts for harassing pedestrians, and both contemporary and ancient ruins (clearly a theme in Budapest). While Brian went alone and suggested it would have been more pleasant with company, it had a warm atmosphere, certainly helped by the very characteristic hot weather.

Finally, the worst museum Brian has ever visited is in Budapest: The House of Terror. Not only confusing, extremely inaccurate, and poorly put together – it tended to exploit the suffering of those that were murdered and tortured by successive regimes of the Arrowcross and then Communist puppet state. Apparently, a holocaust museum is also being built in Budapest by the same creators that completely bends the truth about the Hungarian complicity in the systematic murder of Hungarian Jews. So, for that reason as well as the poor taste of this exhibition, please do not support it. At $20 a ticket, Brian was ashamed to say that the line was entirely made up of whiny American, German, and Chinese tourists. This was not a museum, it was a perversion of history designed to rake in cash for Viktor Orban. Don’t go!

Bratislava

Known for its cheap flights with easy access to Budapest and Vienna, Bratislava is often passed over as a throughway rather than a destination. What a mistake!

One of the many eye-catching art displays in Bratislava

Bratislava Proper

The central bit of the city is postcard-pretty: all cobbled streets, ancient churches and sunshine. After arriving by bus and depositing our bags at our inexpensive (but excellent) Airbnb, we went to the Old Market Hall (Stará tržnica) before the Saturday market of food, drink, and gifts closed for the afternoon. We immediately met a friendly young brewer who sold excellent pints while sharing his recommendations for Bratislava and upcoming Brno. Beer in hand, we explored the rest of the small market before moving on to more historical buildings in town.

St. Michael’s Gate, a well-known attraction, was Instagram-worthy for sure, but the many other old stone alleys and buildings were more eye-catching in my opinion. There are a number of unexpected art installations throughout too, reminding you of Bratislava’s tourist hotspot potential. Leaving the the thicket of the medieval old city track, we found a hip coffee shop to jolt us back to life before carrying on to the Blue Church.

Bratislava’s famed Blue Church

Though you may have thought it was dedicated to the worship of Disney, the Blue Church AKA The Church of St. Elizabeth is actually a part of the Hungarian secessionist sect of the Catholic church. It’s eye-catching and, and as you might have guesses, very blue. You won’t need to spend very long here, but it’s worth tracking it down.

Another place worth seeing is the castle, which is set up high overlooking the city and river. More enjoyable than the castle itself is the picturesque walk up, with cute cafés nestled into the stone alleyways leading to the top. We made sure to come back to these for a glass of crisp Slovakian wine as the sun set on our descent back into town.

Small Carpathian Mountains

The natural beauty in the Small Carpathians

The natural beauty of the Small Carpathians

We decided to take advantage of Slovakia’s abundant natural beauty by heading off for a hike in the Small Carpathians. We took a tram to a public bus and rode north into the hills to begin our hike in Marianka. When we arrived at a simple crossroads – the end of the line – the driver kindly pointed us in the direction of where we could pick up the trailhead, which basically began right on a pilgrimage route. Winding our way behind a small development, we did indeed find the first religious marker indicating we were going the right way. After the first half hour of walking we came upon a church and valley full of small Christian shrines. From here, we ended up on a mountain bike path that we then simply followed through the woods for a few quiet hours, marveling at the old growth around us. We ate some mysterious, but delicious vine-ripened berries when we emerged in a sunny patch in the park and before we knew it we were walking through northeast Bratislava, just a tram ride away from our Airbnb.

For a late post-hike lunch, we visited Slovak Pub in the heart of town where we ate hearty Slovakian classics like bryndzové halušky (potato dumplings in sheep’s cheese, often served with pancetta cubes) and cesnaková polievka (creamy garlic soup) in a generous bread bowl. This kitschy old pub is known on the (comparatively tame) tourist track of Bratislava, but it’s still a fun visit and the food is inexpensive and tasty.

View of Bratislava Castle from the park

I was working for the rest of our visit to Slovakia, but we did manage to get down to the far side of the Danube one evening to experience sunset in the park, Sad Janka Kráľa. What a spectacular view watching the skyline fall into shadow against the pink sky over this famous European river! We then crossed back into town on the Most SNP bridge, often called the UFO bridge for the reason that the structure has a UFO sitting atop it which was another great way to get in touch with Bratislava.

Brian also made the journey to Devin Castle one day and showed off to me how amazing it was and how much it sucks I didn’t see it…I guess we’ll just have to go back someday.

Overlooking the Danube from the 13th century fort

-Sophie

Poland: Wrocław & Kraków, an intro to the mysteries of the East(ern Europe)

Wroclaw is a lovely city for strolling and relaxing, combining old world charm with convenient intercity transport links

Polish Homecoming

Arriving in Poland for me was surprisingly emotional. For the past few years, I have been researching that half of my family tree and turning up only minimal results. I’ve learned quite a bit about what my Polish ancestors did after they came to the United States, but I still only have theories about which town they’re even from in Poland.

So, in part, this trip was a cathartic experience because it allowed me to rediscover my roots, even if they’re only notional and generic roots. However, when I got off the plane in Wrocław on a mild summer morning, it did feel a little like coming home. Poland, in many ways, resembles Missouri. It’s a beautiful landscape – mostly gently rolling hills, largely populated with deciduous forests and farmland, and the people aren’t all that different (in that they’re pretty much all white and the government is pretty racist).

Poland is undergoing a slight patriotic renaissance — I’m all for a strong cultural identity, but it isn’t all good with the PiS

Poland is having a tough time, governmentally speaking (and we all know they’re not the only ones). Their Law and Justice Party have attempted to abolish the independence of their judiciary, and the country has now been formally sanctioned as a result. We saw several protests in the town square in Wrocław.

However, we largely avoided politics. So, our first order of business in Wrocław was to find our accommodation, an Airbnb for us of course. The town is very well connected by trams (as it turns out most of Eastern Europe is). They are adorable little streetcars that people actually use to get around. However, we couldn’t figure out how in the hell to pay for the damn things, so we called an Uber. It was easier, because we had Sophie’s red monster bag (25kg!! — I know because I carried it up every staircase east of Berlin…).

Coffee, where are you?

We needed more coffee because all we had had was a gigantic (and not very good) Pret coffee before leaving London just a few hours before. So we decided to go walk in the park on the vague notion from our host that “there is coffee that way”. The park was beautiful — and it brings me to a sad, but true admission about my preconceptions about Eastern Europe.

Sophie is smiling now — but you should have seen her before she had coffee…

I had this strange, and very misguided, concept that Eastern Europe would be some kind of developing world hellscape. I have no idea where that came from — but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Throughout our trip, I was struck by how backwards that concept was, and in fact, how much more advanced of a society Eastern Europe is than the United States. It’s frankly embarrassing — I’ll say it. And I’ll give you three reasons.

It’s safe. All the countries we visited — save a few sketchy experiences — felt and are, according to statistics, WAAAAAAY safer than the United States. People don’t own guns in Europe, if they do want to kill one another, they are civilized about it and use a knife or blunt instrument. In the past, they relied on the commissariat to do it systematically.
Public transportation is the mark of a decent society. For example, the trams — they’re cute and they get you places on time. All of the cities we traveled in have these little cars to zip you to your destination. But there were also an extensive network of buses, minibuses, trains, subways, and easy hire bikes.
They’re clean. Apart from Budapest, which was downright disgusting, these cities aren’t trashed like so many “developed” world cities. True, they have a slightly different concept of what ‘tidy’ is, some of the post-Soviet buildings are a bit beat up — but I dig it.

Trams will zip you around to whatever part of the city you want to see — transport in Eastern Europe is impressively extensive and cheap.

Now, what the hell is there to do in Wrocław? Here’s 10 things we did, and mostly enjoyed…

1) Hunt gnomes: There are some 200+ of these little guys scattered throughout the city, it makes for a fun diversion to keep your eyes peeled for them. It’s worth a read about how they came into existence, check out their wikipedia to learn about their anti-communist, pro-labor roots.

2) Sample Polish fare & beers, in fact, it was pretty difficult to find non-Polish food, unlike so many other cities. I’m not going to say Polish food is the best food in the world, but it’s very comforting. The beer isn’t as good, but you’d better get used to it because no one will give you water — much like the rest of Europe.

3) Craft coffee/craft cocktails — surprisingly, yes. Go to Lot Kury for a steaming teapot of gin.

4) Dodge Chinese tourists’ selfie stick as they whip em’ around

5) Explore the charming old town square

Generally speaking, the old town is very cute and full of sprawling cobblestone squares. Wroclaw survived the Soviet and Nazi occupation with a surprising amount of its charm intact.

6) Go to a milk bar, in fact I insist, comrade. You can get your daily allotment of food (a couple dishes and a drink) for about $5. It’s also the experience, families, groups of teenagers, and old grumpy couples shoveling Polish food down their throats at high speed and chasing it with beet juice or whatever sweet purple stuff came in those cups…

7) Check out some weird sculptures — and there are many all across the place, some much darker-themed than others.

This one is happier… I think

I don’t even want to know what sad genocide this commemorates

8) See the Jewish quarter (or what’s left of it) and a couple nearby cathedrals that weren’t destroyed.

One of the better preserved churches in Poland which survived allied bombing, Soviet occupation, and the scourge of modern development

9) Rent a city bike and zoom around the tiny parks dotted throughout the city.

10) Eat a donut. Seriously, they’re so good.

To be honest, this list is embarrassingly simple, but what we liked best about Wrocław is that we felt like locals within a day. It’s a small, ‘chill’ city where the woman at the smoked fish counter knows your name and is already tired of your stupid order that you can’t pronounce. As a recently named European City of Culture, it truly is worth a visit. Onwards!

Kraków

Kraków isn’t as charming as Wrocław, there’s no way around that because it’s saturated with the kind of tourists that will irritate. American and Chinese tourists are in competition to see who can drip sweat on things first and they putter around incessantly with selfie sticks and leave puddles of garlic butter in their wake.

A quick glance at the town centre of Kraków should be enough, it’s a tourist trap

Despite that, it’s still a pretty interesting city with one of the largest, most walkable old towns in Europe. It’s also much bigger, and that goes with the name recognition, of course. One of the best features of the city is the green ring around the center. You can walk in a full circle starting at the castle, all around center city, without having to leave the shade. Of course, also with a bigger city comes the problem of more bums. However, it’s difficult to tell the bums from the drunk tourists and stag partying Brits (is there actually a difference?), and you’re much less likely to be hassled by the bums.

Kraków is a lovely city to walk around, more than just exploring the extensive old town, a few things worth doing include:

A vodka bar — It’s not what you think! These are little arcade style places that have a variety of flavored, lesser proof vodkas such as coffee, hazelnut, cherry, and apricot, among hundreds of other flavors.
The brightly colored array of options at a Kraków vodka bar
Castle — The ‘castle’ and the dragon’s den are very fun. There is a legend that a dragon lives beneath the castle in a cave and so, naturally, there is a fire-breathing statue to appease the tourists (who are the reason the dragon is extinct). The castle isn’t as much a castle as a conglomeration of stones and several walled cathedrals, however the promontory gives you a good view of the parts of Kraków you’ll never visit (because they’re outside the center where the plebeians live).
The gate to the castle
Food – there is some great traditional and not traditional food in Kraków. We can totally recommend a place called Chata, which has that ridiculously over-the-top peasant-style building with sheep skin rugs on top of wooden benches — it’s cozy and will charm you, and if not, you suck and need to relax. But the food is authentic and pleasantly heavy. Super inexpensive too!

Salt of the Earth: And we call it a mine. A mine!

I am slightly ashamed to say this was not only possibly the coolest thing on this trip, but potentially one of the coolest excursions I’ve ever been on (Yes, yes Sophie was right). Why is a a salt mine cool, you ask? I have no idea, except that to venture deep below the earth into a place that directly inspired Tolkien’s Moria and is the quietest place you’ve ever been is just thrilling.

See the resemblance to Tolkien’s dwarf kingdoms?

Even the legends of Dwarves inhabiting these mines doesn’t seem to far-fetched once you enter this strange underground realm. In that mysterious world, deep beneath the ground (disturbingly so), the salt air has preserved the same timbers that were used to construct the original mine some 1200 years ago. People have been mining salt from this deposit since neolithic times and you get that creepy, but incredibly ancient feeling when you wander through the maze-like corridors of this place. Among the seemingly endless, labyrinthine expanse are thousands and thousands of sculptures that the miners made over the years in their spare time, celebrating Poland, Catholicism, and folklore.

A depiction of the origin story of the mine, this dude gave a princess some salt, and she was like “WTF?”

Unlike what we believe, our guide, who was an enthusiastic gentleman, dissuaded us from our dubious belief that the miner’s life was one of a serf. In fact, miners in the heyday of the mine were well-paid and unionized. They were paid partially in salt (which in those times was far, far more valuable than gold).

You can only access the mine through a guided tour (you do NOT want to get lost down there!) and the ticketing system is a bit rigid. Though we generally hate structured tours, we opted for a full “pick-up and drop-off” tour from Kraków rather than attempt to travel to the mines ourselves and I think this was the right choice. The mines are amazing, but disorienting and I wouldn’t have wanted to navigate a train system to get back to the city afterwards.

Kazimierz

Kazimierz is the Jewish quarter of Kraków, and this is another bit of the city well worth the trip. It’s the site of a food renaissance with a pleasing mix of traditional Polish-Jewish food as well as hip Israeli restaurants dotted throughout vibrant neighborhood. There’s a fair bit of historical stuff about the ghetto as well, including some store fronts which have been restored to before they were destroyed and boarded up.

Not much to say about it other than go ramble around it for an afternoon, definitely worth the time.

Revel in the rebirth of Jewish culture in Poland in Kraków’s Jewish quarter, there is some excellent, hipstery Israeli food

Some dilapidated areas near the Jewish quarter

Get outside the city

It’s worth renting a bike just to enjoy the extensive network of bike paths that spiders out from Kraków. I spent a day trying to get to the old forest outside the city, but finding a wealth of interesting sites along the way prevented me from reaching my destination, including: apples growing everywhere, an old nazi bunker that was cordoned off, a random dinosaur museum, a beautiful but inaccessible monastery, and a mysterious crematorium that was closed for business. In fact, when I found the bunker, I also found a wonderful apple tree and got to eat a couple of perfect apples while I pondered how to get to the forest. Unfortunately, I never could figure out how to enter the forest, but it was a lovely bike ride.

A well-maintained park a short walk from the center city full of statues…

You gotta love Poland, it’s just the right amount of weird just before it gets scary. The people aren’t what I would call friendly per se, but they’re interesting and they’ve definitely got a great, dark sense of humor that’s like, “What other bad shit could possibly happen that’s worse than what already happened?” It’s not quite funny, but in this lovely country life goes on, and the Polish economy is humming. I’m sure there’s never been a better time to explore this gem of a country.

Looking back at the city, you can get an awfully long way on the network of bike paths that connect the city to the countryside

-Brian

How To Get Sick of Massages (As If!)

When you travel around Asia on the cheap, you will inevitably be routed through Bangkok on basically every international flight. We had been through this airport about four times before we actually stopped and stayed in Thailand. One of our Don Muang International Airport layovers featured a mentally unstable man screaming religious slurs as he tried to board our flight to Kochi with us. After about 10 minutes of this, I went to the check-in desk to ask if they were going to do anything about this menacing character.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ve called airport security. They’ll be here in just 15 minutes.” Great.

Bustling streets of Bangkok near Chinatown area

Based on our many less-than-enjoyable airport stays, we approached our couple of days in Bangkok with trepidation. But, from the moment we stepped into the cool interior of our Uber, we realized that the city was far more sophisticated and exciting than we had anticipated. Bangkok is vast, modern, and charming — the antithesis of the airport. We easily found our B&B and were immediately upgraded to the suite when she couldn’t find our original reservation. (Don’t be too jealous – the lock on the suite’s double doors was broken so we had to use a bike lock to secure our possessions).

One of gajillion street stalls dotted around Bangkok

Italian coffee, meat on sticks… everything the modern girl could want.

We arrived in the early morning, so we set off in hot pursuit of coffee and we found several options. While we are all for seeking out local, authentic experiences generally, we wanted (needed) some western coffee on this day, so we sat down in a modern, dare-I-say-hip, Italian style coffee shop where we had fast wifi and a view of the street vendors selling their breakfast delights. After surveying the offers, and fortified with caffeine, we went out to get some breakfast. Much to our surprise, just 20 minutes later, the vendors had all moved along, new vendors had moved in, and much shuffling had occurred. We couldn’t find what we were looking for. We bough some sticks of delicious grilled mystery meat and sat down at a little picnic table to eat some piping hot noodles covered in hot sauce. This juxtaposition of the cosmopolitan coffee shop across the street and the portable grill tops nicely summed up the feel of Bangkok and our time there.

The Chinatown market was redolent of Chinatowns around the world, with red dragons and lanterns strung overhead, crates overflowing with dirt-encrusted produce, and stalls selling branded knickknacks of all sorts. The web of alleyways was vast and congested, but the slow pace of getting around offered us the luxury of gazing at all the random wares without being hurried along. We bought our family members flip-flops that were made to look like “real” fish and found the Japanese anime character, Totoro, emblazoned on everything a person may ever wish to own, from patches to picture frames to pencil cases.

Quick snack of scorpion

Most of all, we were really amazed to see trays of grilled scorpions on sticks (as well as other many legged creatures). We wanted to try them, but weren’t even sure how to begin eating them. Can you eat the pincers? What about their heads? Nevertheless, our senses were fully saturated and satisfied from exploring this area.

A big pile of durian fruit

Luckily for us, our hotel was nestled in the heart of a neighborhood where every other storefront was a massage parlor, so we decided to head back for an afternoon massage. We knew that Uber was a popular and convenient mode of getting around, so we went looking for some internet connectivity to call a car. In a few short strides, we left the loud, odorous, chaotic market seen and were in a Starbucks in an upscale mall, ordering a ride using their free wifi.

Ornate stupas at Wat Pho temple

One of the great things about Uber, if you’re a tourist, is that you can’t be price gouged for unwittingly being driven around a few extra miles for a higher fare. But, in Bangkok, you may be waiting upwards of 30 minutes for your driver to arrive. This isn’t because there aren’t many drivers here – it’s because the traffic is SO bad, that from even just a few blocks away your driver my accept your ride and then be completely unable to retrieve you.

A different kind of ‘happy ending’

Eventually we made it back to our neighborhood, Phra Khanong, and scanned the streets for a non-sexy place to get a massage. It was pretty easy to distinguish which establishments offered services we were disinterested; they’d had names like Miss BJ’s “Massage” House and Bouncy Bouncy Fun Times. We ended up just around the corner from our hotel at a “luxury” spa that charged about $30 for us both to get an hour long massage. But, really, it was as luxurious as most western spas and the lower price made the experience even more luxurious and enjoyable.

The very giant and golden reclining Buddha

Over the next two days, between visiting temples and palaces, stumbling through shops full of memorials for the deceased King, gawking at the reclining Buddha, and trying durian popsicles (flavored like a moldy onion…I wouldn’t recommend), we got half a dozen more massages. Not all were as good as the first, but they all were remarkably inexpensive and just what out aching backpacker shoulders needed.

As pop culture would lead one to believe, Thai massages really are super deep tissue style massages and feature the masseuse using their full body weight plus gravity to release tension in your back. But in fact, this was true across several of the other countries we visited and got massages in. However, some other common themes were vats of hot oil, confusing hospital-style gowns, and sheer bliss.

Statue in Wat Pho temple

One massage we got in northern India in 2016 at a fancy hotel spa was called the “Royal Ayurvedic Treatment”. With only two common words with my masseuse, “pressure” and “full-body”, I soon found myself buck naked having my hair massaged with the same very hot oil that was poured all over my body. After 40 confusing, slimy minutes the masseuse gestured to a dark chamber in the corner of the room and eventually I figured out that she wanted me to remove my towel and stand naked in this blacked out vestibule. So I did and after a few long moments a puff of steam erupted from an unseen source overhead and as I started to scream. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I recognized a shower head, I was soon washing the gallons of oil off in a perfectly functional, but nevertheless creepy shower. As I left the spa, by way of farewell, my masseuse said to me, “Pressure!”.

Relaxed outside Grand Palace in Bangkok post morning of massages

Well in Thailand I certainly had flashbacks of this experience — but rather than being in an upscale hotel, I was on a mat on the floor in any one of dozens of basic massage parlors in Bangkok. I was instructed to fully undress and lay on a mattress that was little thicker than a yoga mat in a row of clients on mats that was reminiscent of a hospital ward. The massage, of course, was fantastically acrobatic and really relieved my aching muscles. However, my American puritanism didn’t just put me off by being unclothed in a room full of strangers, the masseuses definitely weren’t of the sexy sort, but they definitely went further past the Universal Standard Shorts/Bra Cut-off Point to the point where my mind went, “Uh-oh, did I pick the wrong type of massage?” but it was all fine in the end.

The many meats of Bangkok

Really, I could go on-and-on about the $20, 90-minute, man balancing on my back, linking arms with the man standing on Brian’s back massage experiences we had in Vietnam, or the super serene couples massage in a poolside spa during a mesmerizing thunderstorm in Cambodia, or the $10 Laos massage-slash-yoga pose stretch sesh, but I’ll try to stop myself…There were many other fine and surprising things we experienced in Bangkok.

There was food, also

If I haven’t already mentioned it, let’s talk about the food. The FOOD. I’ve had “thai food” in the US, and that generally has the gist of it, but the actual food in Thailand kept us coming back for more and more. Between restaurants and rickety tables on the street, we definitely preferred the food at/from the carts. Plates full of steaming fried vegetables and bowls of soup kept us satisfied for just 50 baht (less than $2). Restaurant meals cost considerably more and were simultaneously bland and super spicy. Bizarre.

Even more delicious than it looks

Another fabulous food discovery was mango sticky rice. This is sticky white rice cooked in coconut milk and, more traditionally, with some blue flowers which dye the rice a pale periwinkle. This warm, sweet, vaguely floral rice is then served with freshly sliced mango and crisped rice topping – so simple but a heavenly combination that I frequently crave to this day.

Lastly, the most pleasant discovery — the people. The people we met in Bangkok were amongst the most lively and friendly we met throughout our time in Southeast Asia. From our B&B hostess to our Uber drivers, everyone we met had a smile on their face and a genuine interest in showing off their charming homeland. We cannot wait to visit again.

-Sophie

Sikkim and Darjeeling: A former Buddhist kingdom and a tea-soaked adventure

Little villages are scattered along the steep road to Darjeeling

Getting there

Flying into Bagdogra is an experience in itself. This remote airport in the northeast of India is strictly a ‘no photographs’ location. Only around 100 miles from the Chinese border, the Indian air force keeps a stash of bombers there, ready to go, in case their Chinese neighbors get handsy at the border. There are plenty of serious looking mustachioed dudes with submachine guns standing around nervously.

Deplaning though, you would almost think you’re in a cafeteria — the 80s paneling, the rows of oddly arranged chairs, and then armed guards asking for your visa (you need special permission to enter most areas around there). You get a quick rundown with a metal detector, which is unusual when leaving an airport… But then again, many people arriving are traveling to Sikkim, which was not too recently its own country, and as mentioned shares a border with the ever aggressive China.

Our first stop was Darjeeling. The majestic and mysterious West Bengalese city synonomous with tea, trains, tranquility and Kachenchunga (the world’s 3rd tallest peak — depending on how you measure).

Darjeeling was merely a stop off, a recommendation from our friend, Rudy (he’s been everywhere) who heartily recommended a day or two to chill there amongst the tea. It was lovely — and we certainly did chill — to the bone. As we left Bagdogra, the soot, sweat, and grime of the small city (and there was a lot for such a small city!) faded away. Soon, in our formerly sweaty shorts and t-shirts we were shivering our way to an altitude of 6,700 feet in a matter of hours, watching as the sun sank into the distant smog of West Bengal.

The smoggy sunset on the way up the mts to Darjeeling

The air up here was (mostly) clean and fresh. We rolled through the cool evening mist passing towns with those half finished concrete buildings you find throughout southeast Asia, little settlements with houses dotted in among the trees, sometimes with faces peeking out calling children to dinner, or people carrying laundry baskets. Through lush greenery, we rose. Our driver, completely oblivious to our existence, rolled his windows down and barreled onward roaring up the winding path, dangling off the mountain at times, not phased by the fear of falling thousands of feet to a fiery death.

Darjeeling

Finally, around 8pm or so, in the freezing dark, we arrived in Darjeeling. Our hotel was a simple multi-story concrete structure – basically a refrigerator with a functioning toilet (hooray!) and a bed. We put on four layers of clothes, mostly t-shirts, I bundled up in what I could, and Sophie’s toes blackened in anticipation of a hard night’s sleep.

Actually, I slept pretty well. We had our run of the kitchen, “What would you like?” they asked. Unable to read Ghorka or Bengali, we were content to point at the menu and hope for the best. The food was some of the spiciest I’d ever eaten. My nose ran from the cold and the spice, and we shivered, exhausted.

Checking out a monastery in Darjeeling after a lovely 3am wakeup call to head up to Tiger Hill and see Kachenchunga

I had interviewed for a job in London in September, just after we returned from Morocco and the recruiter (in, as it would turn out, her infinite wisdom) had chosen this particular night to speak with me. After our earlier flight to Bagdogra, our harrowing white-knuckled ride up into the mountains in a freezing truck, and our traumatic welcome into Darjeeling (which included almost being hit by the Darjeeling Express), Mildred (her name has been changed) decided this was the night for a conversation about renumeration.

“Hi Brian, how are you?” She asked.

“Fine… My teeth aren’t chattering…” I said, delirious with fatigue. “And you?”

“Oh well, I’m well…Where are you in your travels now?”

“The Himalayas.”

“Lovely.”

“Y-y-eah…” I said shivering.

At this point I would have settled on a warm cup of coffee for a salary (in fact, I did). That evening, we went to look for snacks before our dinner came, but we were only able to find piles of Nabisco type things: banana crispies and what-have-you.

Darjeeling is relatively small (for India) at around 130K souls

The next day we woke up at 3am to head to Tiger Hill to get catch a glimpse of the Kachenchunga peak at sunrise. This is a very touristy daily event, and hawkers ran back and forth selling hot chai from a thermos and weirdly shaped woolen caps (that looked like they had been made for house elves).

Was it worth it? Yes. After an hour of shivering and buying woolen caps, we finally mashed in with some people to catch a glimpse of the glorious Kachenchunga, a sacred mountain for the Lepcha people, and it should certainly be considered one for the rest of us too. It was awe-inspiring. But exhausting. And teeth-chatteringly cold. But ultimately totally not too touristy and worth the pain.

Mighty Kachenchunga just after dawn on Tiger Hill

Our driver then took us to a confusing stupa, but to be fair, I am confused by most stupas (being as unintentionally ethnocentric as the next Westerner). But they are still an interesting and eye-catching religious symbol.

Darjeeling is obviously famous for the eponymous tea that so famously grows on its steep slopes. The people that have picked it there for generations have come from different places — but many of them are well cared for by the family companies that have been running the slopes for many years. Of course, I believe this is mostly bullshit PR and that they probably live in difficult conditions — we attended the tea museum in Darjeeling that begged to differ, stating that the tea pickers are mostly women because they have ‘tiny, tiny hands’. The truth is, the workers are all women because they work harder picking tea while they chatter happily at one another (this is what another tea company man said). But they also have healthcare and childcare, relatively good benefits in India, I’d wager.

Happy Valley tea plantation — what a happy place. Fancy a spoonful of tea?

Hands down, the most incredible part about Darjeeling – besides the surrounding beauty, and interesting cultural traditions — you truly do have access to the most incredible tea. For those of us among the uninitiated, we didn’t know there were such things as first, second, and so forth flushes — types of tea strategically picked at different times to exhibit certain properties. For some of these teas, a cup can cost around $45… that’s one cup. The most expensive we sprung for was a $12 first blush black tea. It was easily the most interesting cup of tea I’ve ever had. Back in the city, every fifth store sells tea and conspicuous tea wholesalers are rummaging through piles of tea packages wafting and scrutinizing the leaves, rattling the little foil packages. It’s quite fun to explore the little shops get to inhale the different aromas.

Nowhere in the world will you have a chance to sample tea so fresh. It really is the dream experience for a beverage lover, and it really gave me a new appreciation for tea (a beverage that has never been too fascinating to me).

Sikkim

Well, after a few days in Darjeeling, it was straight on to Gangtok in Sikkim. Zooming through the underbrush at the speed of sound, our next driver (in a long series of drivers) dangled off cliff after cliff, but interestingly enough, we were headed down to a lower elevation in Gangtok. After we passed the proper military checkpoint – which included paying a small visa processing fee and getting a pretty cool little stamp in our passport — we headed on.

Gangtok was fun to walk around — it had many alleyways that meandered up and down, this way and that — each one had snacks

The city itself wasn’t much to marvel at. Unlike Darjeeling, it sits at a lower elevation, so doesn’t quite cling to the mountains in the same way. While it’s buildings are mostly built-up concrete, there is a certain charm to its streets and it is possible to walk around, if nervously (as always in Indian traffic).

One of the more depressing, but interesting sites we visited was the Tibetan Refugee Center. For anyone that cares about the Tibetans and how they were robbed of their country, leader, heritage, relics, and livelihoods by the imperialist dogs — it is pretty riveting and may cause an intense emotional experience. For someone who really loves the beauty and mystery of Tibetan Buddhism, it will be an even more emotional experience. However, I must warn it’s not a light-hearted experience.

This is where a lot of Tibetan artifacts were brought after the Chinese murdered most of the Tibetans in actual Tibet and annexed their country and enslaved the inhabitants brutally

A monk smiles at a dog at Rumtek Monastery outside of Gangtok

Another incredible part of Tibetan culture certainly worth experiencing was the food. In Gangtok, we enjoyed an incredible Tibetan food experience. Up two flights of rickety stairs in the town’s high street, we found a little Tibetan cafe that smelled incredible. It was packed with people, and we got to share a table with a mother and her little son. Her three year old was eating food so spicy that it would have reduced most adults to full-on tantrum mode. Here we enjoyed momo dumplings and hot noodle soup.

Prayer flags waving in the wind at Rumtek Monastery

The people of Darjeeling, and Gangtok, were all very accommodating. All in all, two of the least touristy places I’ve ever been (although, as our driver in Gangtok pointed out, that’s changing rapidly). He was a friendly fellow, fluent in Bengali, Lepcha, Gorka, and pretty good in English too. After he drove us around for the day, he asked, “Can we stop for a chai?” We sat down for a few chais at a quaint little cafe, where the proprietor kept a vat of tea kettle simmering all day long. Our driver conversed with the owner a while, and we enjoyed the peaceful ambience of the mountain city.

It’s their land after all… but don’t tell Modi

As part of our quirky tour, we were repeatedly handed off from driver to driver, subcontracted out by our truly bizarre tour company. As we prepared to hop out of one truck to the other, I tried to hand our new friend a tip. He shook his head vehemently, “You’ve already paid.” He said, and sent us on our way.

Another time our driver dropped us off in a parking garage and drove away without telling us anything. We just stood there for an hour questioning all the decisions in life that brought us to that frightening vault full of rabid dogs and keyed up young men. But we survived.

In Gangtok, you have a chance to visit Rumtek Monastery, a heavily-guarded and functioning Buddhist monastery. After an incredibly uncomfortable, but worthwhile trip around the valley, we arrived at the monastery. The heavily armed guards seized our passports — which made us very nervous — and then we wandered around as the monks read their morning prayer. I think the prayer lasted close to an hour and was punctuated with frequent coughs and snorts. As this went on, we wandered around awkwardly, past the canteen where some monks were eating bowls of rice and candy bars…for breakfast. Then, we peeked into the shrine, where yet another armed guard (with an AK-47 under his arm) looked at us suspiciously as we made an offering of some unknown amount of rupees.

A shrine with a view

“Hmmm…” We said, unsure of what one ‘does’ at Rumtek. The only clearly marked sign was the men’s bathroom, and there were some stalls on the way up selling some trinkets. We were the only tourists that day, but it was clear there were normally more tourists. So we took a quick walk up the hill to where one could catch a glimpse of the shrine building itself and the beautiful many-colored and waving flags that adorn the monastery. It was really very lovely. It smelled like incense, as almost everywhere in Sikkim does, and we coughed a bit as we brushed through a cloud of it. Then, we dodged the monks’ underwear which were drying on a clothesline and headed back to the car for a bumpy, dusty ride back to Gangtok.

At the gate, we asked for our passports back. They looked puzzled, and for a moment we almost vomited out our hearts when they couldn’t find them. Then, the we saw a lightbulb form over the guard’s head and he pulled them out of his vest pocket, dusting them off and handing them back with a less menacing grimace which I think was meant to be an apology.

Rumtek is stunningly beautiful and colorful, the location is incredible — but there is nothing else there besides some banana crispies

For a Buddhist shrine, there sure were a lot of men with guns. That must be part of that new agey second-amendment-fold-path — No wait… that’s BOOMism, not Buddhism. I’m confused.

All aboard the Darjeeling Express… Just watch out that it doesn’t run you over

Sikkim is a magnificently beautiful part of India, despite really being its own country. It has lost its autonomy but still retains a distinct cultural feeling that separates it from the rest of the country. The Ghorkas as recently as we were there, were in a state of revolt to retain some of their autonomy from the strong administration of the Modi government, which controls much of the local government politics of a largely Buddhist region. Still, better that religious freedom prevails somewhat stifled, rather than being completely stamped out like the Tibetans who now live in exile in Sikkim if they weren’t already murdered.

On the charming streets of Gangtok in the evening

-Brian

Kolkata: Gotta make sure your hotel exists

Outside the temple of Kali, after a nice $25 fleecing by a tout.

Kolkata: Kali, Mother Theresa, exposed wires, and kati rolls

Kolkata is hot. In the city, exhaust from millions of idling cars fills the air and forms an oppressive choking cloud that makes you really wonder how people adapt to life like this.

This has always been one of the more beautiful things about India — it’s full of a resilient, determined populace who aren’t discouraged by lack of clean water, soil, or breathable air. They’re tough.

We, the pathetic and clammy Americans, however, found it difficult. Kolkata embodies the urban chaos of India that we’ve grown accustomed to. Its highways were a bedlam of insanity, the usual mix of cows and humans, dogs and goats, mopeds and buses teetering with ten young men dangling off the luggage rack and four more hopping in the door as the bus slows down, but it doesn’t ever completely stop to let them on — instead rolling off with limbs sticking out in all directions.

We came to Kolkata knowing that we wanted to see a few things. The temple dedicated to Kali, some colonial buildings (from when the city was Calcutta — although most Indians I spoke to still call Kolkata “Calcutta” and Mumbai “Bombay”), and the Mother House, where Mother Theresa worked her miracles.

When we arrived, we were faced with that all too familiar conundrum at Indian airports, you’re a long way outside the city and it’s a long way in. On a shoestring budget, we chose poorly. We didn’t spring for the A/C taxi. And we ended up with a greenhorn.

“You sure you know where this is?” I asked, holding the slip from the radio taxi stand, pointing very clearly to the address of our hotel.

“No problem,” he said with the customary shake of his head. It was a problem. Our hotel no longer existed. It was a BIG problem. Furthermore, it was impossible for him to find the hotel, and would have been even if it existed. He had no idea how to find his own foot. After a godawful taxi ride (2 hours in the chokingly polluted traffic, windows open breathing away our future lung capacity) and a quick detour to a school which our driver insisted was our hotel –we finally found the hotel at the site of where our hotel should be. But, it turned out that our hotel had been discontinued.

So large was our problem, that we spent another two and a half hours on a relay call between Hotels.com help and the staff at an imaginary hotel. Well, nothing sucks as much as wasting precious travel time you can never recover. However, we did get an upgrade, of sorts to a new “fancy” hotel.

We couldn’t do much that night, so we resolved to make our remaining time worth it. That evening, we instead just enjoyed the most kick-ass kati rolls ever created. Despite my recent (and relatively ongoing) food-borne illness, the mutton kati still hit the spot at Kusum Rolls. Don’t be put off of eating standing up down a crowded alley way, 50 cents has never been so fresh and delicious.

The next day we checked in our friend Kali, the beautiful (and, at times, vengeful) Goddess ,who is worshipped by many as the Divine Mother. For us Westerners, we know her as some dark and perhaps demonic consort of those villainous dudes from the Temple of Doom. Well, pop culture does that a lot. Instead, she is a very important deity worshipped across India. One of her most notable temples, however, is here in Calcutta.

Our temple visit, as with most tourist sites, was a damn racket. But it was still fun.

A tout greeted us as we tried to wander in, pegging us as easy money.

“You must have a guide to enter. I am a registered guide, you must come with me.” His logic was undeniable… But, sometimes, we find it’s easier to just give them the money and laugh it off. What’s being swindled out of another 5 or 10 thousand rupees.

Of course, by the time we had seen the spot they sacrifice the goats (you know, standard stuff) and stuck third eye dots on our foreheads to mark us as the ultimate tourists, and our guide literally pushed us through the Kali body temple (where we basically got our pockets double-checked for spare change and got to rub up against 400 sweaty pilgrims, then we got to look at a shrine that resembled an empty birdcage.

“Tell me the name of your mother.” The tout asked.”Father? Brothers?” I answered.

He then proceeded to bless each of my family members, the family dog, my dentist, and my third cousins (just kidding), but for Sophie, the fee was higher (because she has five siblings). This was one of those times where I wish I was quicker and could have answered: “I’m an orphan!” and escaped, paying just $10 or so. Instead, stupidly, I listed off all my family members, and they’ve since been blessed by Kali. (Ahem… forgot to mention that, guys… She sees you when you’re sleeping, etc.)

Well, we eventually escaped with minimal damage and headed on over to the Victoria Memorial. We walked through a political uprising, quick to leave and found ourselves in a very random piece of empty grassland, next to a gigantic racetrack. Well, apparently someone let the horses out, and so we wandered by and tipped our hats.

Completely lost, and relying on a map with cartoon versions of everything drawn not to scale (NEVER GO TO INDIA WITHOUT A DATA PLAN… stupid stupid stupid), we panicked and grabbed a taxi.

Despite repeated attempts by Sophie to communicate with the driver, I realized that the taxi driver was handicapped — he was unable to hear at the frequency women speak. So, I had to translate for Sophie into ‘man talk’.

“Hey punk (a respectful term in man speak), can you take us to the royal thing?”

He nodded the customary, “no problem” nod.

A memorial to Victoria, a character from a Netflix show… Apparently, she’s really big in India.

Victoria Memorial. It’s a memorial for Victoria. The rest is FAR too boring to relay here. The building itself…very impressive…as buildings go. Worth a visit, but mainly for the park area behind the memorial and the other historical buildings in that end of town.

From there, we meandered over to the Hooghly River and set off along the river walkway with small refreshment stands, tour boat opportunities, dead parade floats, and druggy animal trash cans.

One of many types of stoned animals seeking your rubbish

He’s seen better days…

We emerged from the path a mile or so uptown, where the path intersects with a railway and a shantytown. We were surprised to find that, all of a sudden, we’d crossed into colonial Calcutta, with dozens of British government buildings, mansions, and churches. Behind the St. John’s Church we found a memorial to the Black Hole of Calcutta which was terribly grim.

There was one more site Sophie wanted to see before we could recuperate in the coolness of our hotel room. Our visit to the Mother House — Mother Teresa’s home — was, to my surprise, not at all a tourist trap. This peaceful compound is still today an active home for the Sisters who carry on Mother Teresa’s work, as well as temporary volunteers. Here you can see her room, pray by her tomb, and learn about her life through a small museum display. Not to minimize the important work Mother Teresa accomplished, but we were surprised to see a picture of her when she was young, before she was Mother Teresa, and she was movie star pretty. She could have had anything in life, and still she dedicated herself to those in need.

We found ourselves in this weird, empty field. Who let the horses out? Who? Probably those guys standing under the tree. Why? They were hungry. Horse dosa.

For our final evening in Kolkata, Sophie dragged me to a mall under the guise of something cultural that I can’t remember now. While we were in briefly in Chennai the day before, we went to a very non-Western mall that was like an Indian marketplace just with escalators, rather than winding alleyways. Surprisingly fun as malls go. This, however, was an upscale mall much like only the nicest malls in the US and, as such, it was dreadfully boring. But we did get to shop in a grocery store that had tea flavored mouthwash and chili flavored toothpaste, so that was pretty cool.

Though our hotel was nearby, we didn’t want to drag our newly purchased suitcase for knickknacks through the inevitable street sludge, so we hailed a taxi. We showed the driver the address but he shook his head and shrugged, indicating that he did not recognize the street name (truly less than five minutes away). A tuk-tuk driver convinced us that he knew where we needed to go, but he grabbed the address (actually Sophie’s phone displaying the address) and ran over to another driver to ask where the hell it was. While we were sitting in that tuk-tuk waiting, another driver came over to us and asked, “Need tuk-tuk?”

“No!” We both responded, “we’re in a freaking tuk-tuk.”

A moment later our driver returned (with Sophie’s phone, fortunately) and we were off. Paused at a traffic light, a third driver rode up to us and asked, “Need tuk-tuk?”

The Highs and Low(land)s of Kerala

Though I’ve written more than my fair share of recent blogs, I must also write about our time in Kerala because Brian contracted a gnarly bug as we travelled to India from Cambodia and his fever occluded his ability to form memory during this period. This will be a one-sided account, for this, I apologize.

One of many waterfalls we saw in Munnar

Returning to India was central to our Asia travel plans since a) there is SO much to see there and b) we loved our trip in fall of 2016. We decided where to go through a bidding war of our top choices and ended up with a far south to far north path headed east. Our first stop was Kerala, a state running along the south western coast of India, the Malabar Coast. It is famous for its natural beauty and uniquely different cultural identity. We arranged for a three night tour of the area as it is always wise to arrange for a driver, at minimum, when traveling around India with an end destinations in mind. Our pick-up point was in Kochi, our second Kochi of the trip, also known as Cochin. We dozed the first hour or two of the ride (our flight landed after midnight) and when we awoke we saw that we had already begun our descent into foggy the mountains. Much to my surprise, there was Christian iconography everywhere with the ferocious tackiness of the American Bible Belt — bumper stickers, oversized crucifix jewelry, embarrassing billboards, the works! This was quite a contrast to the previous night while, waiting for our Kochi connection in Bangkok, a mentally unstable man of Hindu persuasion began screaming at a group of other Indian men who he assumed were Muslim and warranted his religiously-driven rage. When I went to the attendants at the check-in desk to ask if they were going to do something about the disturbed man aggressively spitting at these quiet businessmen I was told, “Oh, we’ve called security and they’re on their way. They’ll be here in just 15 minutes!”. Comforting.

Sophie surrounded by hills of tea trees. Yeah, those are trees!

Anyways, we quickly learned that Kerala’s slogan is “Kerala: God’s Own Country” referring to the astounding beauty of the waterfalls, mountain vistas, and spectacular sunsets, as well as the God lovin’ folk who dwell here. Along the way to the lodge we would be staying in, we stopped to visit an ayurvedic garden where a guide should us dozens of different herbs, spices, and fruits used to heal everything from arthritis to obesity. He gave us fresh peppercorns and star anise to chew as we wandered through the humid garden. From the top of a centralized treehouse you could see the neighboring elephant habitat and spiders as large as saucers spinning their webs high up in the trees. Personally, I was glad to learn about the various ayurvedic medicines, but we’ll get to the reason why in a bit.

Foggy lookout point along the road in Munnar

Once we reached our lodge in Munnar, a hill station famous for tea plantations, we quickly regrouped with some horrifying purple “welcome” juice and continued to ride up the mountain to Eravikulam National Park. At the entrance we were herded onto a bus and driven up windy, mist-shrouded paths to a visitors center. We quickly realized that we were the only international tourists here when family after family pointed at us and pulled out their phones. I’m not exaggerating when I say I must be in at least 100 phones from just that one afternoon. Some people were bolder, especially young men, and they’d request a photo with me, which would inevitable turn into a fifteen minute photo shoot complete with different poses and posse rearrangements. Brian was too ill to trek up the park path, so I ended up engulfed in several “baby’s first pic with white girl” photo ops and a selfie exhibition with an army of tweens. At one point I said to them, “Ok, one more photo,” and they responded with, “No problem, five more minutes, ok.” “No, not ok. I’d really like to see the park before the sun sets.” “Ok, ok. Two more photos.”

A Nilgiri Thar just hanging out in the park

Eventually, I did indeed see a small portion of the park which has spectacular rolling green hill views and is home to the endangered Nilgiri Thar, a type of horned goat creature that chills with park guests like NBD. And in the moment that people were crowding around to snap pictures of these animals did I finally empathize with their experience as a simple creature to be ogled at for but an instant…

https://www.instagram.com/p/BbBQvz_lyp7/

That night, God came to God’s Own Country in the form of the most terrific thunderstorm I have ever seen. Our room at the lodge had a window facing the valley and I spent the evening watching the sky turn every shade of gray, blue, and white one could imagine. It was terrifying and amazing. Meanwhile, Brian almost died from his spiking fever. Ah, the joys of travel.

The next day, our driver took us back into the heart of Munnar to see the sites. The first was a tea factory/museum that had a wildly disordered collection of semi-relevant newspaper clippings and an informational video from the 80’s about how progressive this tea plantation was because they paid their female employees. Afterwards, an older Indian gentleman gathered 100 visitors into an empty loft to discuss bowel habits and the benefits of drinking tea (those two points were not connected). In a word, this is a “must-see”.

A hanging network of scarlet clock vine was my favorite part of the botanical garden

Next we went to a small botanical garden which had a really vibrant assortment of flowers, including a large orchids display. But then a school bus of teenage boys appeared and we had to flee like they were the paparazzi. I was still traumatized from Eravikulam. On our way to the next location, our driver pulled over to show us a hornet’s nest the size of a mid-sized SUV. That was pretty frightening. After a few more erroneous stops, we finally made it to the top of the hill station where, had it not been so foggy, we would have had a view of rolling tea tree covered hills and neighboring Tamil Nadu. Instead, we just explored the desolate little village and had some chai since this was the first cool climate we’d been to in many moons.

This image captures life in rural India pretty well I think

https://www.instagram.com/p/BbFCXM4FhPj/?taken-by=we_quit_our_jobs_to_travel

The next day we rode down the mountain, all the way to the famous backwater channels of Kerala. Here we were ushered onto a private house boat and we set sail down vibrant waterways lined with villages all just about to tumble right into the water.

We docked for the night shortly before sunset and were told we could go for a wander. At first we headed off down a dirt path through some fields. Soon, we realized that there was dramatic movie music coming from somewhere and everywhere all at once out in the middle of this deserted landscape. Up close, I thought I could see a small speaker nestled in a coconut tree, but that may have been my imagination. We pressed on a bit, but when we could stand the creepiness anymore, we walked back towards the water and then set off on another spur of path towards the village, which consisted of about six huts. We were immediately engulfed in a sea of small, cheerful children asking for candy. When we told them we didn’t have any candy, they switched to chanting for pens. When we told them we didn’t have any pens, they switched to chanting for pencils. When we finally convinced them there was not a secret trove of anything but used tissues in our pockets, they were heartbreakingly disappointed and I will never forgive myself.

Brian on the path with the source-less music

https://www.instagram.com/p/BbHzOXrF_BL/

Back on the boat, we watched vampire bats swoop overhead as the sun sank into a horizon awash in so many shades of pink that even Barbie would have said it was garish. Once it got dark out, we were surprised when our hosts drew our attention to a flat screen TV in the main cabin that was hooked up to a satellite on the roof. As it was Halloween, we watched a horror film that was edited according to the standards of the Indian government’s Department Of What Is Acceptable Viewing Material. This meant that absolutely nothing scary happened in the movie, nor did the hacked together remaining storyline make any sense.

A view of the sea from the promenade by Fort Cochin

To round out our time in Kerala, we spent our last day exploring the city of Kochi, primarily wandering along the water by the Chinese Fishing Nets and exploring Fort Cochin. There was plenty more to see, but we were overheated and not feeling very well. By the time we reached the airport to head elsewhere in India, I had contracted a full blown case of food poisoning. Since women in much of India are still treated as second class citizens, there were only a few bathroom stalls for hundreds of women and I ended up needing to vomit in public trash bins because I couldn’t reach a toilet through the crowded queues. After several mad dashes across the terminal, a woman came up to me and asked if I was the white woman who was having stomach troubles. Indeed, must be me. She asked if I had tried any ayurvedic medicines yet — I had not — so she led me over to her bag where she withdrew several small plastic pouches of dried plant matter. Had I been conscious at this point I would have remembered not to take drugs, even natural drugs, from strangers. But alas, my brain wasn’t even remotely connected to my sweaty, partially collapsed body and I let the woman fill my outstretched palms with cardamom pods and cloves. I was ordered to chew them and spit out the husks, and that I would instantly return to full health. At this point, I would try anything to quit heaving before boarding a tiny, bouncing plane in India.

They didn’t work.

-Sophie