The Departure Lounge: Gear

Welcome to my newest ongoing series, The Departure Lounge! Here I’m going to delve into the preparations for long term travel. Some posts will be long, some will be short, and all will be my personal experience working through the tough questions everyone faces when they leave home.

One of my biggest projects leading up the The Great Escape has been trying to get my gear in order. I’ve done quite a bit of traveling over the past few years which has helped significantly as I try to decide what to take, what to leave at home, and what to upgrade.

When I left for Asia the first time, I was paralyzed with fear over whether or not to bring my expensive camera and my blackberry. In the end, I asked myself what is the point in having a camera if not to take photos of my adventures? So I brought it along and never looked back. Now, the gear bag is going to be a bit heavier as my passion for photography has only gotten stronger and the bag that goes along with it gets heavier!

Cameras

I recently made one big decision, which was to upgrade my camera body and lens. I know that I want to be able to shoot better videos, as I have a lot of fun putting them together for the blog and want to feature them more prominently coming up. So I was paralyzed between getting a flip camera and upgrading to a dSLR that shoots video. The Flip is great for its small size, and that it also has a decently affordable underwater housing. But in the end I went for the upgrade, as I can now not only shoot video but also have a better still camera. In addition to my new body I also got a fantastic new lens for Christmas… I can’t wait to put this new monster camera into action! I’m in love. I’m also toying with the idea of getting a zoom lens, but that will be a last minute decision based on my financial situation.

Looking a bit more impressive now, don't you think?

Then there is the underwater camera. Much as I would love to have a couple grand to drop on a housing for the dSLR, that’s not happening anytime soon. But especially after attending Beneath the Sea I’m dreaming of the new s95, of strobes and fancy video cameras. It is so easy to get swept away in wanting the newest and the best but I think in this case I might have to tell myself to be patient and wait for Christmas next year!

Still kickin'

Last but not least is the affectionately known “Party Cam.” We’ll see how long that bad boy lasts after a few nights out in Scotland, but with all the abuse I’ve given it I won’t be heartbroken when it bites the dust.

Computer
Between blogging and my desire to make a good deal of my income freelancing,  a good travel computer is a must. I didn’t bring a computer on my big Asia trip, but I have brought it along on most subsequent travels in order to keep up with photo editing and blogging on the road. My 4-year-old Mac Book Pro was giving out, so I took the plunge and went for the new 13″ model. I was worried that the small size would make photo editing and design work difficult, but so far the smaller size and lighter weight far outweighs any of the negatives. I haven’t had a chance to take her on the road yet, but so far I am over the moon with this computer, enough to say that this might just be the perfect computer for travelers. I’m also thinking ahead about being able to back up my work, so I’m looking for a small but rugged hard drive to throw in the bag as well.

So in love

Bags
Once you have decided on what gear you are taking, the next decision is how to carry it. I’ve recently concluded its time to retire the top loading backpack that served me well throughout my summer in Asia. I realized that its too much of a hassle to have to lift everything from the small top opening to get at one item on the bottom- its going to be a front opener for me next.

I’m also going to invest in a nice front pack that can comfortably handle the “valuables”- aka camera and computer. I’ve never had a good system before and it has nearly cost me dearly as I scramble and frantically tear through airport security. This time I vow to get organized! I haven’t even had a chance to start looking but its next on my list… time is ticking away!

Never again

In Conclusion
In the end, these are big purchases that will have a major effect on my travels. I’m glad that I built them into my travel budget long ago, despite the fact that everyone will be purchased still on US soil. There have been a million big and little decisions to make and so I’m glad I gave myself not only money but time to make them.  One thing I haven’t even started to tackle? The dreaded decision about phones and international phone plans.

Still to do:
– Buy a new backpack and frontpack
– Buy a rugged hardrive
– Buy a long lens (?)
– Win lottery, upgrade underwater camera equipment
– Win lottery, hire sherpa to carry belongings

Malaysia Round Up

What I Did: 3 nights in Kuala Lumpur, 2 nights in the Cameron Highlands, 5 nights on Perhentian Kecil, 1 night in Penang

Overall: Malaysia was one of the best trips of my life. It was part of a larger, two month trip through Southeast Asia, but taken on its own we found was a fantastic mix of urban excitement, jungle adventure, and beach bliss. I was charmed by each and every stop on our itinerary and think we got a great sampler of peninsular Malaysia.

Kuala Lumpur is a must for the majority of those traveling in and out of the country. We came here for a visa and while it wasn’t my favorite city of all time, we had fun times at the Menara Tower, the aquarium, and braving public transit and dodgy accommodation.

The Cameron Highlands were a breath of clean, cool air. We only stayed one full day but it was jam packed with waterfall swimming, tea plantation crashing and finding the largest flower on earth.

The Perhentians were a dream. Fantastic diving, snorkeling, kayaking, and all the other oddities and surprises of a set of small islands in the gulf of Thailand.

Getting around: Malaysia gave me more transportation terror than any country I have ever visited, yet somehow we arrived everywhere we were meant to, more or less on time. I recommend checking and rechecking whatever ticket you have, as many cities have many bus stations and the buses make multiple stops that are not always clearly announced. In Kuala Lumpur public transportation is a challenge but a welcome one to the alternative to expensive cab rides.

Food and Drink: Western and European cuisine is much harder to come by in Malaysia than in neighboring Thailand, with the exception of the ubiquitous Mcdonalds in major cities. So spicy Malaysian food it was, with the exception of the ubiquitous beach barbecue in the Perhentians. At one roadside restaurant we were surprised to see that we were not offered utensils until we looked around and saw everyone was eating with their hands! Alcohol is available but a bit harder to come by, considering this is a Muslim country.

People: I had less encounters with locals in Malaysia that in any other country on my trip. I’m not sure why, though I would guess that the language and religion barrier had a hand in it. One exception was our amazing tour guide in the Cameron Highlands who filled us in on the history of the country, and clued us in to the fact that the numerous burka wearing women in Kuala Lumpur were likely not Malaysian but tourists from the Middle East who prefer to vacation in other Muslim countries.

Money: Travelers coming from other Southeast Asian countries will be surprised at the expense of Malaysia. In my opinion most things were worth the extra ringitts- the attractions were spectacular and the activities, like hiking and diving, were also fantastic. However in terms of food, drink, and accommodation you will be surprised how little you get for your money. The conditions we stayed in were pretty laughable at times. Just pad the budget a bit!

Safety: We had one incident on Palau Perhentian where someone tried to open our door at night while we were sleeping. Luckily, I travel with an ex marine bodyguard at all times. Unluckily, the room were staying in had a bent rusty nail as a locking device. I didn’t think much of it at the time but upon arriving home read some disturbing tales of break ins from single female travelers. I honestly felt safe my entire trip through Malaysia but I wonder if I would have felt differently traveling along.

Good to know: As I’ve mentioned a few times, Malaysia is officially a Muslim country. I knew this before arrival and moved my short shorts to the back of the backpack but I did not realize that bare shoulders were a no-no as well. Saying that now I feel a bit silly, but I plead ignorance and I smartened up quickly, finding myself much more comfortable dressed as modestly as possible. Obviously the islands are an exception, but if you are heading to Kuala Lumpur or the deeply religious East Coast I would pack accordingly. I think its always better to air on the side of caution when it comes to being respectful to local culture.

A Heart Stopping Journey

Our journey from the Perhentians back to Bangkok (and for me, back to New York) was fraught with drama and hilarity, perhaps starting with the fact that Mark had lost the only pair of flip flops that he brought on the trip and therefore spent the 700 mile trip either barefoot or wearing a pair of my size 6 sandals. That pretty much set the tone for things.

It started with a small motorboat ride from the island to Kuala Besut, made difficult by the fact that my return ticket was at the bottom of the sea and I had given a fake passport number on the receipt. In a scuffle of confusion I somehow avoided paying twice, but only after I had envisioned myself rotting in Malaysian prison for falsifying documents.

From the jetty we found a couple to share a sweaty cab ride to the conservatively Muslim state capital of Kota Bharu, and we again lucked out as the other couple uncomplainingly paid the majority of the cab fare when they were dropped at the airport. Arriving at the bus station, we had a few hours to kill and I spotted a Western style mall in the distance.

I think I’ve beat the point to death on this blog, but I am not an adventurous eater. However, options are limited in Malaysia and I choked down many unidentified dishes to stave off starvation. So try to imagine the sound of the angel’s chorus as we stepped into the blissfully air-conditioned mall and were met by the sight of Pizza Hut, McDonald’s and A&W. Mark watched our enormous backpacks as I sprinted between the three, fondly reading the menus and trying to make the ultimate comfort food decision. While mulling over the options, Mark revealed he HAD NEVER TRIED ROOT BEER. I apologize for the excess capitalization, but I’m having a hard time finding any other way to convey the shock of this confession. Obviously the decision was made for me and A&W it was.

Thus begins one of my mother’s favorite stories from my entire time in Asia. In the two months that Mark and I had spent together, he had only seen me pick aloofly at my food. While he knew my little secret about my picky eating habits, he just assumed that in addition I must also be a light and dainty eater. After all, I had been eating like a bird for two months.

That illusion came crashing down the minute the rootbeer float hit the table in front of me. To say that the spoon did not stop moving between the glass and my mouth until I was finished scrapping the sides is an understatement. Mark watched mouth agape before timidly tucking in. My cover was blown.

Once that fun Malaysian-culture soaking opportunity was up we were back on the road for the seven hour bus trip to Penang. Penang is a major metropolis and island on the West coast and also where our flight departed from the next morning. We were jolted out of our bus slumber by a stop and the vast majority of the passengers departing. I scrambled to grab our things while Mark ran to get our backpacks from under the bus. Yet I had a sinking feeling something was off. It was the middle of the night and with no signs, English or otherwise, to alert us of our destination, I wasn’t entirely confident we were where we were supposed to be.

“Excuse me, is this the Penang bus station?” I asked the bus driver. He looked directly at me, smiled and nodded. I paused. “Is the next stop the Penang bust station?” He smiled and nodded again, pleased to have been of help. I looked around at the remaining passengers, all of whom were Malay. “Does anyone speak English?” I called out. I was met by rows of eager smiles, but no response. Meanwhile Mark appeared at the doors, wondering why I wasn’t off the bus yet. I felt my stomach drop as the bus driver started up the engine again. Decision time. “Get back on the bus!” I cried, and Mark threw our bags up the steps and climbed back on and looked at me bewildered. I admitted there was a very good chance we were lost forever in the Malaysian bus system, doomed to travel from one concrete edifice to another, never correctly identifying our location, for the rest of our miserable lives. He told me it probably wasn’t that bad.

Yet again, luck was on our side. After fifteen heart stopping minutes we arrived in a much brighter and larger bus station swarming with cabs competing to take us to our hotel. After a too short night of sleep in a seriously swank $60 hotel room (Penang is the place to splurge) we were en route to the airport.

Amazing flight attendant uniforms

We woke up in Palau Perhentian and a boat, a cab, a bus, a cab and several heart attacks later we were in Palau Penang. Transportation through Malaysia can be challenging, frustrating, and sometimes even a little fun. The best part is arriving in your destination, looking back at the journey behind you, and knowing you not only survived it, you made it into a memorable part of your trip. Maybe even blog worthy.

Leaving Cayman Part II

Reading my last post, you may have worried that I was unhappy the past three months. You also may have worried that I am a total brat and should shut up and be happy I’m not in a working at Auntie Anne’s Pretzel Stand in Albany, New York.

I appreciate the concern, but its not necessary. I’ve already admitted to my initially troubled relationship with Cayman, but my affection for this island grew slowly and steadily until now, when I can genuinely say I feel sadness at leaving.

Cayman’s greatest asset is the water and that is where I found a lot of peace this summer. Since learning to dive last year, I looked forward to dives and genuinely enjoyed it as a hobby. I still struggled with key components like buoyancy and control of my movements. But as with all great things, practice makes competence. Between diving for fun with Mark, for education by completing more courses, and for work doing underwater video, I developed a comfort and appreciation for the underwater world. And then I bought my underwater digital camera. In the first week I went for four dives. And it was on one of them, gliding through the water slowly, quietly, I realized I was at peace. And I was in love. I promise not to get all third-eye spiritual on you here, but I’ve realized that diving is my meditation. I’ve never really been able to master that in the yoga studio, where my mind tends to fall to how many minutes are left in the class or what I’m eating for lunch. But down below, where total silence and slow movements take over, my mind can abandon the stresses above. Holding a camera and seeing things through a lens allowed me to even more appreciate the beauty of what I was seeing.

Photography was, of course, a massive part of my summer. While it was tough to accept that I was going to be having a profitless summer for the first time in years, once I moved past that I realized I could not have asked for a better internship experience. From working with Heather I have developed a diverse portfolio, a great reference, a summers worth of experience, and a great friendship.

And that was not the only friendship I made. Through the amazing diving community in Cayman Mark and I were able to make so many great friends, many of whom I know are friends for life. On my leaving night I looked around and felt lucky to have met so many funny, smart, kind people that are all out living their dreams. I was surrounded by great examples every day of the kind of life I want to lead. And that is the most valuable thing I will take away from Grand Cayman.

Photo by Heather

Leaving Cayman

When my plane takes off Thursday morning I will have spent three months of my life on this island. Three months of working, learning, playing, and loving. I don’t know how long you have to spend in a place to have “lived” there, but I do feel like I’m leaving a life and a home, albeit a brief one.

My relationship with Grand Cayman has been an interesting one, a strong contrast to the head over heels passionate love affair I had last summer with my island in Thailand. Here in Cayman I felt a lot of “meh” upon arrival. I raised my eyebrows at the chain restaurants dotting the harbor. I bristled as I pushed through the cruise ship tourists being herded from one duty free shop to another. I nearly choked when I saw the price of a mojito. But even with my guard up and my mind set to dislike the place, I melted at the sight of the Caribbean waters and looked forward to the heart of what brought me here: a place where I could spend three uninterrupted months with my boyfriend before passports and circumstances pull us apart again.

There are things I won’t miss. I won’t miss occasionally mindlessly snacking on ants when they find their way into a sealed box of graham crackers. I won’t miss the bureaucratic drama of bike licensing and passport validation and work permits where you seem to be paying for the privilege of living here and spending more money. I won’t miss living in a place with excellent restaurants and barely being able to afford Wendy’s.

All the things I just listed are things here that make life hard, or if not hard, mildly uncomfortable. But that’s just the thing that I turned me off of this place. Its not hard. Its actually quite easy, and familiar, and suburban. In fact, if you were to carve Grand Cayman out of its place on earth and plop it in middle America, it would be just another suburb. With better restuarants.

Crime is low, the standard of living is high. Here I can have any grocery item I desire (though it comes at a price). I can go to the over air conditioned theatre and see any movie I wish (except for R rated movies on Sundays, but that’s another post). I want for almost nothing, except the things money prohibits me from having. But it is available. Its like Pleasantville, but hotter.

And that’s the problem. When I leave my home and my country I’m looking for something different. A challenge, an assault on the senses, a glimpse into a life totally different from the one I left behind. I want to sacrifice the comfortable and the familiar in exchange for something more; too see how far I can stretch myself, to open my mind, to be a better, in so many senses, person. That is what travel has done for me.

In that sense Cayman left me a bit cold. I knew right away if I was going to enjoy my time here I needed to change my outlook. I had to stop comparing this summer’s island to last summer’s island, because Koh Tao would always win.

Stay tuned for Part II, or, How I Learned To Stop Being An Island Snob And Ended Up Having An Awesome Summer

Stay With A Local!

So as you may recall, when we arrived in Roatan, we turned our noses up at a $20 room and it led us to a dive shop where an instructor offered us a room for $10 a night. Score! Well, once I concluded he wasn’t a serial killer or out to steal my camera it was a definite score. But in more ways than I would have thought…

Reason 1: Instant Friends. Traveling can make you feel like part of the biggest, friendliest community you’ve ever been a part of. It can also make you feel super lonely when you arrive on a new island and don’t know a soul. Staying with Marco and Christine we had instant cred among the expat community (actually, Marco is Honduran and therefore not himself an expat)  and were thus treated as family. Plus one night we ordered Chinese food with them and despite it tasting like really bad Honduran food with some Chinese flavoring, it was great to hang out in sweats and feel like old friends when we were too pooped to party.

 

Reason 2: Insider Info. Not sure which scooter rental place has the lowest prices? Is this restaurant any good? Is there an actual road to the other beach or is the correct method in fact to wade through the ocean knee deep? Lets ask our concierge hosts!

Reason 3: Free Sea Kayak Use. Duh. Lets just say I didn’t see any hostels advertising this perk.

 

Look at these healthy mangroves!

So we might have done it a slightly untraditional way, saying yes when a perfect stranger offered us a room in his unseen house on a dark and rainy night, but there are perfectly acceptable ways to stay with locals abroad, whether its calling a friends of a friend of a friend who just moved to Singapore or signing up for Couchsurfers. Though I will note Couchsurfers is only perfectly acceptable if you are not my friend Michelle who has a theory that people opening up their homes must be weird and are probably videotaping you while you sleep (note to swedish couple who couchsurfed with us this summer in Cayman: We did not do this).

As for the friend of a friend thing, you know when you’re going somewhere and suddenly everyone you talk to has an aunt who had a piano teacher who is now living there teaching underprivileged orphans English? When I went to Thailand last summer by best friend had just started dating a guy whos parents lived in Bangkok. He excitedly told me his parents would love to meet me and I kind of halfheartedly said I’d email. I regret it now! When my mom went to Indonesia she met up with a friend of my childhood piano teacher’s. How cool is that? From now on I will now make every effort to know and live like locals wherever I go.

Island Bound… Again

We had planned to stay another night in the jungle, but after the excitement of the day before we realized that we had gotten the best we could out of this location and decided to move on. After a morning of leisurely cliff jumping we piled in a cab and headed back to La Ceiba town.  At this point Mark and I were at a standstill- he wanted to stay the night in La Ceiba and I wanted to soldier on to Roatan and wake up on the beach. This is the hard part about traveling together- no matter how much you think you are right you don’t want to bulldoze the other person. Apparently I failed at the non-bulldozing because soon we were on a ferry to the island. But not before having a DELICIOUS lunch in town for the grand price of three dollars. For both of us. I truly can not stop dreaming about these amazing taquitos. Mark was not quite as passionate, but that may or may not have to do with him finding a burnt match in his meal.

Back to the ferry. As we sat down a very nice man handed me a plastic bag. “What is this for?” I inquired. “You puke” he replied. Well, not quite, but almost accurate. I spent the next hour squinting at the horizon and hopping the taquitos would not reappear. As the ferry approached the island we were greeted by more mountainous landscape (yay!) and a rainstorm. We took our third taxi of the day across the island into West Bay, the professed backpacker hangout with the islands cheapest food, diving, and accommodation. It can be unsettling arriving at night and the rain only heightened it. We checked out the hostel I had dog eared in the guide book and we underwhelmed. For $20 a night it was a room with a bed in it, on the first floor facing the street. We moved on. Impulsively we walked into a dive shop where people were sitting on the porch drinking and talking to see if they had any tips. While the friendly owner rattled off a few places a bit above our price range, one of the instructors emerged from the shadows and volunteered a room in his house for $10 a night. I was hesitant- who was this person? But Mark was overjoyed and before I knew it we were following a stranger down a dark alley. It turned out his place was great, he lived with his girlfriend (which made me feel better, as if bad people don’t have girlfriends) and so far he wasn’t a serial killer. So with that we went out to explore and find food. Even in the dark rainy night we could see we loved the place. The dirt roads and smattering of beachfront bars and restaurants reminded us of our beloved Koh Tao, and there was a young, happy energy everywhere we turned. We went to bed excited to see everything in the morning light and this is what we found:

Our new front yard for the week...

Our new house for the week...

Our new street for the week...

And the best part... behind the police station!

Do Bad Things Come In Threes?

If I was the type of person who believed in omens (and I’m not entirely sure I’m not) I would have run screaming like a banshee back to the airport demanding a flight home after our first day in Honduras. It was that good.

The bad luck started in the airport when, preoccupied with thoughts of Mark’s job situation after our return, we left my iPod Touch and Mark’s expensive headphones sitting on the plastic bucket seats at the departure gate. I have made a lifetime career of losing important items, so while obviously distressed at the idea that I no longer had an iPod, I was not surprised by our carelessness. Mark on the other hand spent the entire flight punishing himself and bemoaning how he could be so reckless. Not exactly the excitement and rum punch filled journey we were hoping for.

So we approach the mainland. Yay! Mountains! Its so beautiful! Excitement and desperate, hopeless last minute searches for ipod ensue. As we exit the plane I feel dread. In the chaos I left my small green camera on the plane! Mark ran back on and found it sitting on my seat but the delay put us at the back of the immigration line.

Stepping out of the airport nearly two hours later I felt my troubles almost melt away. We walked away from the airport cab line and found a cab driver who gave us a great deal to drop off a friend we had made on the flight in town and bring us to our lodge on the river, which was a good twenty five minutes away. The lodge had told us beforehand that they would send someone for $25US, which seemed way too steep. This guys said he would bring all three of us for $20! Driving through La Ceiba was sensory overload, a reminder of how much I love foreign cities. Mountains peek through fog in the distance, while hand painted sings for coca cola, laundry and phone cards compete for business under clusters of telephone wires. I chatted away in broken Spanish with the cab driver who, believe it or not, had worked in Grand Cayman many years ago as a barber.

We dropped off our new friend (who handed me $10 for his share, woo hoo!). Soon the chaos gave way to calm as we drove along the rocky road following the Rio Conrejal in a car that seemed to have no suspension. I was just beginning to feel concern over whether or not we were lost when we pulled up to a blue surfboard painted with “Jungle River Lodge.” Feeling happy and generous I handed the driver his fee plus a two dollar tip (tipping cab drivers is not expected or customary in Honduras). Looking down at his hand the driver transformed from our friendly tour guide to a scary angry person. “This is not enough!” he screamed. Taken aback we reminded him of the price he told us at the airport. At this point he tried to tell us that was the price for taking three people into town, a price that would be so overinflated it was ridiculous. We asked how much he wanted to come out here. He said $30 or $40! We balked and I tried telling him the lodge itself only charged 25. This went on for a while with him growing more angry and me growing more sick to my stomach.  After a while I realized I no longer wished to be standing on the side of an abandoned dirt road with an increasingly irate taxi driver with a heavy bag on my back containing all of my valuables in it. So I gave him another five dollars, an amount that still didn’t satisfy him, and walked away. He seemed for a moment he was going to follow us, but the nice thing about traveling with your own personal ex-marine body guard is that doesn’t seem quite as scary as it would be if you were a single white female traveling solo.

The Jungle Lodge

Our Flinstones room!

After settling into our (awesome!) room, we discussed the whole thing. With time to reflect I can see that he was fleecing us but at the time it was scary and unsettling and its hard not to be convinces you are ripping someone off. It might not seem like much money (in the end we gave him $17 for our share, $10 for the other guy’s) but remember that lunch in this town cost $3. For both of us.  I think at the end of our trip I would have been much more confident but I was just getting back into the swing of Central America.

The lodge was deserted but rustically beautiful, and we used our last hours of daylight to explore the grounds and the area. We ended our first day in Honduras with an early dinner, plans to go rafting and ziplining the next day, and a toast to getting all the bad luck of the trip out of the way on day one.

4 Reasons to Love Visitors Abroad

Looking at my calendar from this summer, I can’t believe how much is blocked out under “Family in Town.” On my flight down to Cayman, I already knew my mom was coming down to visit soon. Little did I know at the time my dad, sister, cousin and her husband would soon be buying tickets to Grand Cayman as well! And in a turn of events that brought tears to my eyes, four of my best girlfriends are meeting Mark and me in the Honduras. I was reading on another travel blog this morning about how stressful it can be to have family and friends visiting when you’re traveling, and while I totally understood all their points, I felt myself coming up with my own list of why its great to see familiar faces from home.

1.    You get to act like a tourist

This applies more when you’re stationed somewhere for a while then when you are constantly on the road yourself, but still, long term travelers sometimes develop “tourist fatigue” as well. I loved going to the museum and taking the Mastic Trail tour, and without my mom in town, I don’t know if I ever would have done such “touristy” things. It’s the same principle that kicked in when Mark was staying with me in New York. Sometimes it takes showing someone around your home to really appreciate it.

being a tourist in Georgetown

2.    It abates homesickness

Its been hard for me to miss graduations, birthdays, fathers days and more these past two summers, but I think of it as a warm up to when I’m really on the road and have to miss the big things. Seeing my dad last summer in Cambodia and seeing um, practically my whole family here this summer has made it nearly impossible to feel homesick.

3.    They become part of the journey

By coming and seeing a glimpse of what I’ve been doing all summer, I feel that my family, some of the most important people in my life, are more included in my journey, and can come to understand better why travel is such a priority to me. Especially last summer, when I was so adamant about backpacking around Southeast Asia by myself, it really strengthened my relationship with both my parents that they were so supportive, and especially with my Dad that he was willing to fly around the world to be a part of it.

tackling Angkor Wat

This summer, when I’ve come to Grand Cayman, in large part because of my relationship and also to begin feeling out a photography career, it makes me feel like everyone who has come down here supports both my relationship and my photography aspirations. It also tells me they wanted a Caribbean vacation.

4.    They come bearing gifts

Last summer, when I met my dad in Bangkok, he handed me a package that might as well have been pure gold- American tabloid magazines and new underwear (after a rat got into my bungalow and shredded all my dirty clothes- lovely). Last night while I was on the phone with my sister, I asked for, you guessed it, US weekly. And a sewing kit. You might think both those things would be available on an island as developed as this. Yes in fact they are, but as I explained to Olivia, a small 99 cent sewing kit from the states will retail for approximately $13 dollars here. Cayman dollars.

While a four hour flight to a Caribbean paradise might not be the largest investment, I appreciate every bit. And I hope as I’m pulled to further and more exotic corners of the globe, they keep coming! And that they bring the trashy tabloids.

YES

Aquariums and Crazy Cabbies

Our last day in Kuala Lumpur was planned with military like precision. We had a very small window in which we could get tickets to the Petronas Towers, followed by a few free hours and then another small window in which to pick up Mark’s visa and catch a bus to the Cameron Highlands.

Who needs to go in when you can stand in front?

Once again we woke up at an ungodly hour and braved public transit to the towers, where we rushed up to the visitor’s desk to find out tickets were sold out for the day! Most of them had been presold to school groups and the rest were in even higher demand due to the holiday the day before. So we accepted it wasn’t in the cards for us and headed across the courtyard to the aquarium. If you are aquarium people, and we certainly are, this one will not disappoint. There is an underwater tunnel, interactive touch tanks and tons of exotic fish we hoped to spot in the wild once we reached the islands! The best part was a show at the large animal tank at the end where divers went down to feed the animal and had Mark drooling with jealousy and declaring it his dream job.

Wow!

After getting our underwater fix we still had time to kill so we headed into the mall that sits in the base of the Petronas Towers. All I could think was the damage my kid sister could do in that place. It was unlike any mall I’ve ever seen before, all high end luxury stores and gleaming food courts without a cinnabon in sight. The main patrons seemed to be women in full burkas, which explained the window displays of mainly shoes and purses.

Suddenly it was Go Time and we walked as fast as the heat would allow to the embassy, praying for short enough lines to allow us to catch our bus to the Cameron Highlands, as we had truly had enough of the urban heat. It took a bit longer than anticipated so we were forced to break our cheap streak and take a cab, but boy was it worth it since we happened to land the Craziest Cabbie of all Times. What follows is the inauguration of video on this blog, and I can’t think of a better occasion.

If only we had thought to start recording earlier you would have been treated to even better gems, but this at least gives you an idea of the crazy that we were assaulted with for our twenty-minute cab ride. With moments to spare we made it to the “bus stop,” really just a side alley, and with harrowing memories of the bathroomless buses in Cambodia I darted into a nearby restaurant to use the bathroom, leaving Mark once stressed to the maximum convincing a bus driver not to leave while his girlfriend was looking around for somewhere to empty her bladder. But as usual things went our way at the last minute and soon we were on the road again, headed happily to cooler climate.

Another day, another bus