Take me for a ride mister!

A somewhat normal person would pee in his pants. Or at least scream out loud. If you don’t feel like going straight to heaven, the afterlife, the promised paradise, your next life or the other side, you just don’t do it. 

 

I thought it was particularly useful and practical. And for that price, I couldn’t get into a taxi, let alone go on foot. So there I go. I had just negotiated the price and I was already on the back of the scooter taxi. The man with whom I have just signed my death warrant handed me a helmet. For good karma?! I know by now that a helmet in Vietnam is nothing more than an aluminum pot on your head. Value: about 10 USD. Because you're worth it?

 

He starts the engine, accelerates and I almost fall off the back. My physics teacher has once taught me: a body at rest wants to stay at rest. I could not estimate the impact of her words of wisdom when I was 16 years old. Today in Saigon, I must honor her. 

 

 

 

‘Hold on tightly’ is clearly the message Schumacher wants to give me, so I do. When I spoke to him in the street earlier, he must have read 'I'm in a hurry' on my face. He races through traffic as if my life depends on it. Or not, depending on how you look at it.

 

We go grazing sidewalks, because there is too much traffic on the road. We drive through a red light, because we have no time to wait. He bypasses a traffic jam by driving on the other side of the road. It's nothing more than a kamikaze race. I hold on tightly. 

 

With somewhat clotted hair, I arrive for my appointment early. Alive and very much kicking! Adrenaline rushes through my blood and I remember why I'm so crazy about Vietnam.

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We learn as we go – tips for the backpacker tourist

During the past few months I have spent quite a bit of time as backpacker tourist / traveller / nomad and I am of the opinion that my experiences along the way can now be transcreated into a couple of amazingly relevant, priceless travel tips. Completely free for you, the reader. Feel free to compensate me for these later.

 

Tip 1: A backpack of more than 15 kg is heavy. Seriously.

Tip 2: Make sure that everything, repeat, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g, fits in that backpack. Yes, the hand bag as well. This to prevent leaving one of your bags behind somewhere. And to prevent you from looking seriously ridiculous with all those bags hanging off you.

 

Tip 3: Make sure you have a smaller bag in your backpack. One that can function as hand bag, beach bag, day-trip bag...

Tip 4: Pack a rope of a couple of meters long. Comes in handy when you want to tie something (to the steering wheel of your motorbike). Also handy as washing line, handy when one of your backpack zips break...

Tip 5: A packet of washing powder is always useful for a quick hand wash. Although, your shower gel can be used for that as well. Just in case.

Tip 6: Always carry some passport photos with you. Sometimes you need them to get into a country and not having one can be very irritating. Read: expensive – when you need to have new ones taken.

Tip 7: A knife is always practical. For self-defence (never needed it for that), but especially for peeling/cutting fruit, for cutting a wire, for prying something open... Make sure it’s the foldable kind (not my favourite, I prefer my fingers to stay attached to my hand) or that it has a protective cover (my preference) so that your clothes don’t get sliced in your backpack. Of course, you can always make your own cover out of sturdy cardboard, (from a packet of biscuits or something).

Tip 8: Drawing money costs money. Make sure you know how much you draw and use the cheapest card. (Banks all over the world charge money for you to get your own money!).

Tip 9: Multiple bank cards come in handy when one of them gets stolen (never happened to me), blocked by your bank (inform them beforehand that the Nigerian transactions are yours :-)), or refused by an ATM or an overly motivated bank employee.

Tip 10: Matches are indispensible.

Tip 11: Make copies of your passport and immunisation cards... and email them to yourself. The embassy will thank you for it when you arrive without any papers.

Tip 12: Buy a local sim-card with a bit of airtime. In an emergency situation or when a friend can’t find the bar, you will be thankful that you can communicate.

Tip 13: A few elastic bands. To put your hair up, to keep that pocket-knife cover together, to close a plastic bag....

Tip 14: Plastic bags: for your dirty laundry (or your clean laundry – depending on which is more prevalent in your backpack), for your leaking shower gel bottle, to locate something easily, to put away your dirty shoes....

Tip 15: A poncho/raincoat (or a huge plastic bag).

Tip 16: A sarong (a huge piece of cotton fabric). This can serve as bath towel, bed sheet, rug, beach towel, scarf, picnic blanket or bag for your dirty laundry. Double benefit – dries quickly.

Tip 17: Oh yes, some clothes. The locals will thank you for not walking around naked!

 

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Take a look at www.AboutfoodAndflings.blogspot.com for more pictures and recipes!

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Lost. Lost in the thrill of it all.

From the moment I set foot on the ground, I felt lost. Completely disoriented. Everything seemed so different here, which in itself was not unexpected. I was some 10,000 kilometers from home (this equals five times the distance to Spain and back, and anyone who ever went down that road knows it is far!).

I smelled scents that were completely unfamiliar to me. I heard sounds that I had never heard before. I saw people in all colors and shapes, but none of them looked like me. The warm temperature, mixed with a high level of humidity was simply unbearable. Covered in sweat, I sat down on the cold tiles of a Hindu temple. My head felt dizzy. The only thought that emerged from my overheated brain was: "What the hell did I get myself into?", followed by a  physical expression of slight panic through my body.

 

I was lost.

 

A night and a day have passed. My panic now gives way to scarce moments of relative calm. I am beginning to find my rhythm in the chaos and torridity of this different world. Even more, I feel actually good and in my element. And then, all of a sudden, a revelation pops into my mind. This is it. This is where I belong. At this very moment of my life. This is the place where I should spend my time now. And it feels, God knows why, so right.

 

I was lost.

 

All this happened one year ago to the day. More precisely in Malaysia, the first South Asian country where I set foot on land. The country where I realized after three days: “I am lost”. Since then, I have been searching my way in this part of the continent that intrigues me so much. Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, Laos, and Singapore. They all remain a mystery to me, although a corner of the veil has been lifted.

 

I have seen amazing places (as well as extremely disappointing ones), I have met inspiring  people (but also very annoying ones), I have developed new passions (and unjustly neglected old ones), I have enriched my soul (and impoverished my bank account), I have made friends (and had to leave them behind).

 

What will bring a new travel year? More of the same, more different things.

 

I am lost.
 

 

Even beautiful songs don’t last long:
Lost – Frank Ocean
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Arw17vDiL_4

Jalan Sehala

Since a couple of weeks people call me frequently 'Kaka', which is the Dutch word for 'shit'. I can imagine you can make a series of totally-not-predictable and absolutely-not-silly jokes and comments about it. Be my guest!

 

Most of the time I think it's fine, this new way in which I get addressed. It's a sign of respect and appreciation, as it's used to approach women who are older than yourself. Older, that's the key word in this definition. So often it's ok for me that people call me Kaka, but not those many, (many) times that somebody who looks a b s o l u t e l y not younger than me used Kaka to address me. I have an ego you know and it can be big.

 

I've realised recently that it is actually more than 15 years ago that I've learned a new language. And Bahasa Malay, you can say it's a true challenge. Grammar? Simple. Vocabulary? It's hell. But one day this language will reveal to me. I think. I hope.

 

Waiting for the moment that this revelation will take place, I just pretend to speak Malay. This leads to searching for hours for a street called Jalan Sehala on my map. Jalan means street, that I knew already (it also means walking and jalan jalan translates to "Come on, let's go"). Sehala, that word I didn't know. And unfortunately, even after a long search, I didn't find this street on my map. Later on I found out Sehala means 'one direction'.

 

Furthermore this pretending leads to me calling my Malay friend 'stab' – salang- in stead of 'darling' -sayang. (Why does he looks so confused all of a sudden?). And when I'm in a pub I say “Saya sudah bir” –I was a beer- (maybe in a previous life) instead of “Saya suka bir” (I would love to have a beer).

 

Lost in translation. I love it.

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Take a look at www.AboutfoodAndflings.blogspot.com for more pictures and recipes!

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