Thailand's Glass Temple

I knew I wanted to see this place when I saw images of the intricately woven mosaic tiles on my sister's Instagram. I mean, who doesn't have Thailand on their bucketlist? But this temple - The Glass Temple - isn't one I'd seen along Bangkok, Phuket and other favorite places in this area of South East Asia. Luckily for me, the itty town of Phichit sits pretty closely to this marvel, making it an easy Saturday day trip.

The girls and I got up early, and hopped on bikes to ride through the still snoozing Phichit, past the Pad Thai place, over a narrow bridge suspended over chocolatey brown water to the old train station. A ticket that was real-life punched by a man in a conductor's uniform got us to the metropolis that is Phitsanulok. Now, this made tiny Phichit look even smaller. Though it was still early, rows of shops bustled, huge outdoor fruit markets were flooded with customers man handling tiny bunches of bananas and a glittering row of colorful tuk-tuks honked their horns, eager to zoom through traffic to get you to  your destination. We hopped into one and rode to the bus station, where a good deal of charades (and showing a few people a string of Thai instructions - or so we were told) got us onto the right bus. It was a sleepy ride out of P-lok. The 3 hours passed quickly, distancing ourselves from the city and passed little hut-like shops on the outskirts of town selling a menagerie of snacks. These faded quickly too and our tired sounding bus trekked higher into incredibly green mountains as passengers got on and off and seemingly random and unplanned stops. Mountain villages were few and far in between and we'd passed into another world but I felt we were getting close to Nai Mueang. Showing our driver the Thai instructions, we were told to get off here so we did. 

Apparently, "here" was the split between 2 major freeways; not exactly where I figured the Glass Temple would be. Luckily 2 men were there to negotiate a tuk tuk ride up to the temple. It took some time to negotiate how long we wanted him to wait up at the temple and how much we were willing to play - this gambling game is just that, a total game. Our driver spoke only Thai and unfortunately, the second man wouldn't be coming so we were eager to make our demands clear. Success. We piled into the tuk-tuk, knees bent and humidity curled tendrils whipping across our faces as we made the windy road into the mountain, the tip of the stacked white Buddha Temple peeking between the emerald hills. 

And we were there....I knew I'd have a difficult time describing this place and I hate to be one to say "you just have to see it for yourself" but you just have to see it for yourself. We decided to overwhelm ourselves first with the Buddha Temple, first taking off our shoes so our feet could step across the swirling mosaic flooring. As if that wasn't enough detail to take in, the massively stark Buddha's framed against the mountains was something else to take in. I had to tear myself away, being told by the girls that the other temple was way - way - better.

Oh they were right. The circular patterns on the ground, the plates and crushed tea sets set into columns that melted into more intricate swirls, huge pillars, rainbow mosiacs creating a staircase into more tiny and tiled patterns that folded into winding corridors. All of it, every single inch, was covered in hand laid mosaics. 

It was mesmerizing. 

It was absolutely mesmerizing. 

And our pre-negotiated 3 hours seemed more like 30 minutes and we were already well overdue, so we met our agitated tuk-tuk driver and made the ride down the hill where he dropped us off in the middle of an interstate. It was an adventure getting back to Phichit; Apparently the bus we had taken up there was due to come in about 40 minutes, or not at all. We met a man with an empty pickup truck who was willing to take us to to P-lok for about 3 times as much as we had paid for our bus ticket up here. The lack of windows, doors and places to sit made that a tempting offer. Luckily our bus did arrive at the unceremonious interstate stop (the same bus actually, driver and everything) and we all snoozed through a odd Thai film that seemed to straddle the line between horror and comedy. We made the best of our evening in P-lock, taxi'ing over to the crowded walking street to pick up *real* Adidas sweatshirts and all manner of street food. A late night train ride got us back to Phichit where a ride through the dark streets (all while avoid the dogs that keep watch) got us to our school, where we talked, snacked and laughed...and still marveled at the Glass Temple until about 3 AM.

Phichit's Pad Thai

I'll spare you the agony of explaining every single moment that happened the week I spent in Phichit, Thailand, but I'm showing no mercy when it comes to the Pad Thai. You've been warned. 

The girls and I bid goodbye to the island of Koh Chang (aka, dreamy paradise land) and boarded the bus to Bangkok which would drive through the night and drop us all off where my sister had called home for the past 4 month; the itty bitty town of Phichit. It didn't look like much around 3 AM but the sunrise quickly brought me to my senses. Consensus? It's adorable. Day one was spent recuperating from my travels while the girls taught - but of course I bolted upstairs to see a classroom of cuties during their "milk bread" the second I got the text. Um...imagine dozens of little Thai kids just hanging out, drinking cartons of milk. Dy....ing. It was so adorable. After class was over, it was really time to crack down and see the highlight reel of Phichit. The girls would all be leaving for America at the end of the week and needed to hit their favorite spots just one more time and we had a lot of cram in. I was only so happy to agree. 

So that's what happened that week. I wandered around the grassy grounds of the school, peeking into banana laden wheelbarrows while the girls taught, then we would snag the rusty bikes parked under the trees and wave at all the locals as we rode into town, determined to eat as much food as possible. We stopped at roadside stands and slurped up "yellow noodles", finishing them off with scoops of ice cream before shopping for dozens and dozens of socks (my favorite pair I purchased is adorned with dragonfruits. I adore dragonfruits). There were several 7-11 runs made (purchasing 5 Baht candies, these ice cream cones I was infatuated with in China and to snag bottles of chocolate milk and containers of the microwaveable lava cake. Sevey is life). Restaurants serving plates of cashew chicken and lemon chicken encircled by fried kale were devoured. We peeked into shops and stalls, searched through flea markets and wandered our way through vendors selling piles of old sweat shirts, mingled with stalls laden with fried bananas, next to creaking tables piled high with mysterious to me soups sold in bags. I love it here. 

The bike ride into town was both cute and a bit rough in the heat, though I'm told December is the nicest month to visit Thailand - we whizzed past the little roundabout, chatting about life in Thailand while pointing out favorite haunts while locals shouted out "hellos". Just cute, cute, cute. The real obsession though for me was the cocoa and the Pad Thai. And the roti. And just all the food in Thailand, but I digress. I'd heard about the magic of cocoa from Laura for months and was just itching to get my hands on a bag of the stuff. I drank my weight of that stuff in a very short amount of time. Embarrassing? Nope. I even made the mistake/excellent life choice to start the day off with both a bag of cocoa AND a bag of Thai tea. It must have amounted to about a full can and a half worth of sweetened condensed milk and I downed both.  Ah...and I digress again  Onto cocoa: It's rich - a velvety chocolate that's bitter and biting, mellowed out by the silky and sweet condensed milk that is stacked in pyramids at every reputable establishment. There's a splash of evaporated milk too that adds a creaminess, all poured over ice. It's yummmm. 

And to make things even better, the best cocoa place is right across the street from *the best* Pad Thai in Thailand. I didn't even need to take a bite before falling in love. Someday I'll speak as fondly about a person than I do about this Pad Thai. Possibly.

 It's the classic Asian situation where rickety plastic chairs surround rickety plastic tables and you walk in, and the cute lady at the wok just smiles and nods before cracking eggs expertly into the fired steel rim. Rice noodles are tossed in along with a range of other ingredients, all quickly stirred together into a steaming mass and divided up onto plates. Top liberally with crunchy and fresh bean sprouts, douse in a squeeze of lime and sprinkle with crushed peanuts. Unreal. Wash it down with a chilled Thai Tea and be sad that nothing else you could ever purchase or make will be as good as the Pad Thai here. Needless to say, we went many times before hitting up the 7-11 on the way home again, before stopping off to get roti. 

Trust me, there was more things going on besides eating...but not much.  The girls and I would stay up late in the evenings, talking and laughing and attempting to put off the inevitable task of packing. Oh and the kidsssssssss. I loved them oh so much after only one week and watching the teachers say goodbye only brought memories of the sob-fest which happened after a semester in China.  But who wants to read about that? (If you do, check out this post and get tissues) but we are all here to hear about more food. So onto the roti. Again, a favorite I'd been hearing about and I wasn't shy about ordering. Round 1 and I got 4 of these beauties and ate myself sick. It's a thin dough, slapped and rounded out till paper thin before sizzling in a liberal pool of bubbling fat on a flattop — the start of something good. The edges get folded in, crisping up in the fat before it is flipped and drizzled liberally with sweetened and condensed milk. Fold up in a wrapper that starts to bleed a lovely oil sheen before you can even get your hands on it, then take a bite. It's crunchy, sweet, toasty warm and leaves a lip-gloss shine behind and I obviously was too infatuated to take  a proper picture of it. Oh well. 

It's a good thing there was a lot of biking involved this week, because there sure was a lot of eating. 

Scoot-Scoot Sisters in Thailand.

You know you are living life right when you change into a still salty swimsuit before even meandering down to breakfast. A wooden table perched on the upper deck of a small neighboring restaurant provided a glimpse of the sea (and limitless cocoa and pineapple) which was fine in my book. After breakfast, I caught Clem by the pool, who had rented a scooter to find a bungalow where she could spend the rest of her week in Koh Chang. We said our goodbyes and promised visits if we were in each other's neighborhoods. I'd love to visit Spain and let Clem know I'd send her a message if I was in her neck of the woods. 9:00 AM seemed the ideal time to park it on the sugar sand and meet some hermit crab friends before Laura and her other teachers would be arriving. I poked around at the little bistro type restaurants that stretched across on side of the beach and opted to camp out in the opposite and commercially abandoned side of the beach, by a little islet that was cut by a deep channel before the ocean shallowed out on a sandbar. It was gorgeous which was good, because I was dying for Laura and her little entourage to finally get here. 

I got antsy and decided to wait by the hostel's pool and before I knew it, there they were! Aw, sisters in Thailand. The girls got all checked in and I gave them the grand tour; Adorable hostel, cute pool, rad music playing, shaded 1 minute waltz to the beach, then paradise itself. They were tickled. And on the calendar? Nothing but sun and sand. We all made camp at the deserted side of the beach where we collected sand dollars galore and McKenzie and Kelsi (Laura's little group of 3 she's been partial to since Day 1 of teaching) filled me in on who was who. It was a delight to put a face to the names I've been reading/hearing about for the past semester. 

You can only take so much sun before rinsing off and keeping your salt swirled curls while you search for dinner; and we were in luck. The 7-11 (a favorite haunt) had the cutest little kabob lady right there which you just can't say no to. Royally purple cabbage, crisp cucumber and pops of orange carrot kept things fresh, a spicy sauce mellowed out by a creamy mayo smoothed over the crunchy ends of the shaved spit of chicken all wrapped in a blistered tortilla type wrapper. Addicted to Thailand's Kabobs at first bite.

We wouldn't dream of missing the sunset so it was back to the beach before getting dinner (more curry please!) at our breakfast place and staying up late (poolside of course) that evening before planning on Sunday's itinerary: scooters.  

Pinapple, toast, cocoa, noodles and repeat was breakfast before hopping 2 to a scooter ($3 each) for the whole day. Zoom, zoom and Laura and I were off, zipping passed roadside signs, brightly colored in Thai, down steep (crazy steep) and windy jungle roads, blitzing past 7-11's and a Chinese Temple. The wind that whipped our hair drowned out our conversation, meaning I could really catch up on who was who. We all stopped to fill up on water and ice creams at Sevey before finding another good beach. We turned down narrow roads to find a red sand beach which was good, but we were looking out for something...something else. When peeking down a sharp dip down (which was actually a road) a man in a truck pulled us over and said "If you have fear, do not go. But it is a beautiful beach." That was our something else. Leaning back and heavily on the brakes, Laura and I made our treacherous way down a pothole riddled road that spilled out into a pool of asphalt, creating a break in the jungle. Then, a little path opened up to my favorite beach to day. 

Koh Chang's white sand beach is just everything you wanted. Fringed with dense greenery, glittering waters seamlessly melted into truly sugar sandy shores. We all bought tons of these elephant printed tapestries to nap on before venturing out to find lunch. Hopping on scooters let us find a noodle house (Pad See Ew, always) right next to passionfruit and mango smoothies for around $1.50. Have I already mentioned how perfect this day has been so far? We ventured into a bayou-like Lagoon before going to our beach for the sunset..then off to more food.  A long scoot back to the food street let us walk down while drooling and wanting to taste all the things. 

Smoky stalls swirling woks full of thick noodles and oyster sauced vegetables, kabobs studded thick with chicken and vegetables, quail eggs carefully cracked and skewered, noodles swimming in a soup  — sold in bags, mind you...oh, and ice cream. We fell in love with this lady who made massive amounts of Pad Thai for around $1 and we made short work of it and got more smoothies on our walk back, of course. Next up was shopping; discovering last minute trinkets the teachers were collected before going back home. After things stated closing down, me, Laura and Kenzie piled on one scooter (Asian Style) and I held on by my legs, laughing the whole scoot home which didn't stop once we got to the pool to talk and laugh some more. Not bad, Thailand. Not bad at all.

Hello, Thailand

As it so happens, my sister Laura has been teaching English in Thailand for the past 3-4 months and as you may know, it is loads cheaper to fly to Thailand from than it is to fly from the States. Go figure. So that was the plan; hop over to Thailand for 2 weeks to see what life has been like for the little sister (pull my arm, right?) And let me tell you, life in Thailand is an absolute dream.

It was a tiny bit of a hassle to actually get there; an early flight from from Singapore to Bangkok where I picked up some Thai Tea before waiting for my tiny airplane to take me to the tiny airport of Trat, Thailand. The customs line was stuffed with a bunch of partying teens waiting to wreck havoc on Bangkok and I was all too happy to be bused onto the tarmac to board this itty-bitty plane to a more remote place in Thailand. The flight was brief and gorgeous; glittering rice patties faded once you hit the ethereal cloud layer before landed besides the jewel tone ocean. Seriously, the Trat airport can't really even be called an airport; a stretch of road cut away from the jungle made the runway where a wooden platform and covered roof created the terminal. Oh, and topiary elephants adorned the entrance. So. Cute.  A bus took me to the ferry over to the island of Koh Chang where I met the lovely miss Clementine; French-raised and Spain-resdeint, Clem has literally been everywhere. The kind of traveler whose well worn passport flips open to show double stamped sections and visas from around the world. Okay, I'm only a teeny bit envious.

We actually were staying at the same hostel (the adorable Pajamas Hostel) which doesn't seem too much a coincidence because if you have the chance to stay at a hostel called "Pajamas" that boasts both a pool and a 2 minute walk to white sands, why wouldn't you stay there? After the ferry salty breeze properly got my curls all out of order we bused through the jungle to the hostel and settled in to paradise- I mean, our rooms. It was reminiscent of Mikanos, the white washed walls painted with deep blue shutters which is never a bad thing.

It didn't take long to wander off to find the beach and 2 minute advertised walk was an exaggeration. A paved suspended walkway opened to white sand and Instagram-worthy water, dotted with sailboats and fringed by dense foliage's mine in less than a minute. Beachside mango smoothies were then in order, of course, before the warm sun melted into a creamy orange before dipping into the sea. Next up, checking out the local restaurant scene for yellow curry and papaya salad while chatting about adventures. There is something about talking with someone who craves that same sense of adventure and excitement from being thrown in a completely new culture that you look for.  Despite the sparkling conversation, I'd been up since 4 AM and called it an early night, slipping into white sheets listening to the sharp squawking jabs of the local birds that peppered the evening's oceanic soundtrack. No surprise, I woke up feeling like I was still dreaming.

Singapore's Joss Sticks

I'd been feeling a little reminiscent of China being here in Singapore but couldn't really put my finger on it. Then it hit me; I'd recently spent months and months in a country that had thousands — thousands — of years of history. Weekends were filled exploring neighborhoods that were encircled with a city wall that had withstood dozens of attacks over the hundreds of years. Pagodas had been burned and rebuilt and burned and rebuilt again. Everything was so old, so ancient and so embedded with a sense of history. Singapore has many things, but it doesn't emit that cultural history like China does.

So imagine my delight when my church planned an activity to explore one of the only lasting arts this country has to its name; joss sticks. These incense sticks are commonly found in countries all over South East Asia, India and mainland China but underwent a transformation when brought to Singapore. This man's store front is found in one of the industrial neighborhoods, a cab dropped my off where I wove my way through storefronts crowded with engines to be repaired, furniture to be mended, and motorcycles to be fixed until I knew I was in there right place. Intricately carved six-foot tall incense sticks were sort of a dead giveaway.

Tay Guan Hong's workshop was dusty; various tools you'd expect and other you wouldn't, hung from various hooks and strings from the ceiling, where bags of a rich brown clay lay wrapped in a thick plastic. Various wire forms were halfway formed into a man carrying baskets of fish or about to artfully blow into a flute were strewn about, carefully drying and waiting until they were completed.

Tay did a careful demonstration and explanation of his craft; the clay he uses is simply ground cinnamon bark and water, that's it. This tradition has been in his family for generations, who brough and elaborated it from Mainland China. Tay carves various figurines, Christmas ornaments and gingerbread houses for the Christian population, and of course the enormous Joss Sticks. He used mostly his hands in the demonstration, and the only tools he did rely on can be found at any fast food spot. A straw helped him carve out details with a flick of his very experienced wrist. He carefully formed a hand, then snipped 5 fingers before deftly folding a thick pancake of clay into a beautifully draped sleeve and robe. It was ah-mazing to watch. 

I left still feeling nostalgic about China. I'm probably due for another lunch of tomato and eggs in Chinatown.

I Ate Tiong Bahru

I got an early start this Friday in an attempt to beat the Singaporean heat. The oppressive sauna like atmosphere was pressing down on me despite the early hour. Even at 8 AM, the thick air between the high rises felt like the world had just turned off a steaming shower but you can’t let that (or anything) stop you from getting a stellar breakfast. The 20 minutes on the metro spat me out in a glitzy mall (oh Singapore, how you love your malls) before I wandered down the quieter white washed apartments to Tiong Bahru; a trendy breakfasting districted peppered with art galleries and bookstores. If that isn’t the most perfect way to spend your morning, I don’t know what is. The street was just waking up, with people going to and fro grabbing coffee and groceries with friends before meandering to their next location.  My first stop was the Tiong Bahru food centre. Any location titled “food centre” has got to be promising. Like a layered cake, this place is well worth your time and attention. The bottom tier is lined with stalls chalk full of anything you could need on your grocery list. Eggs varying from pale brown to a deep and smoky black bookended stalls bursting with spiny durian and piles of oranges. Purple Japanese sweet potatoes poked out underneath bags of apples and bean sprouts. People were milling about, trying to press on the mangoes without the vendor looking to find the perfect little specimen. There’s also a meat counter; haggles and inquiries about price are punctuated with sharp *smacks* as meat cleavers cut down, separating scales and joints. That area smells less lovely, and isn’t as pretty as admiring radishes. 

In between the red Chinese lettering you can just make out "king of kings"... Durian shares a title with a pretty important figure, no? 

But the middle tier is where you want to spend most of your time. A dizzying ring of food vendors are all selling steaming bowls of laska, curries, roti, chicken and rice, carrot cake (which is nothing like the American version) and other classic dishes.  A cute little couple took my order of chilled sugar cane juice and kaya toast; I”m quickly loving the thick coconut custard spread on toasted bread…with substantial pats of butter sandwiched between the two slices. It’s the breakfast of champions, I’m telling you…though I wished I had gone with the barley-bitter iced Milo rather than the sugarcane; paired with toast, it was a sweet breakfast. 

Plural. Cats. I was so happy here. 

Tiong Bahru was just waking up as I made my way to the book stores where I found nirvana (after admiring the murals painted on the whitewashed store fronts of course). Books Actually is the most perfect bookstore I’ve ever set foot in. I should have known it was paradise; not only were the glass doors adorned with succulents, vintage maps of Singapore and a sign that said “please do not let our cats out”, a stenciled vending machine was parked outside giving patrons a chance to selected a mystery book. I never knew I needed a mystery book vending machine in my life until that exact moment. Inside, a bell tinkled gently as a warm welcome to perfection; books lined the floor to ceiling, stacked purposefully and organized in a way that encouraged meandering. You could admire the stacks on the shelves, or find your way over to the little note that sort of separated genre before getting distracted by the island of books that were stacked cover to cover…the room behind opened up into a space that claustrophobically shelved with second hand books, vintage tins and glass bottles and other quirky gifts. Oh, and cats. I didn’t dare get into trouble by pulling out my wallet; upon first impression I was tempted to buy it all. I’ll be back when I can muster some self restraint. I left feeling inspired to read more poetry, collect more postcards, shoot photos purely in black and white, and explore less traveled avenues.

Shout out to Hannah Wing; this place has your name written all over it 

Brunch hours had officially disappeared, leaving me guilt free to hop over to explore Chinatown. I had hoped it would be a mini version of the gems of China but alas, what Chinatown is exactly like China?  You just have to go see the real thing. While I didn’t stumble upon the old women I would  regularly buy cherries from in Nanjing or the boy who ran the front counter of my favorite noodle house, I did find some glimpses of China within the stalls. A lunch of tomato and eggs (an old favorite) gave me the energy to poke around the enormous warehouse like structure crammed full of everything you could want; clothes, tailors, old CD's, cooking supplies, incense, lanterns and other *necessities*. It's a dizzying collection and I could only wander for so long before setting my sites on seeing some of the cool and fancy hotels and bars and restaurants that site slightly overlooking the main drag of Chinatown. Plus, the lanterns that line the street there are so much prettier from higher up. Brightly painted alleyways created the backdrop to fancy gelato stores and expensive hair salons and some really cool street murals. I took the long way around and saw the Sri Marimman Temple and the Jamae Mosque; both of which I'll go inside of some other day. Today was for eating and there was no room to delay. 

I did quite a bit of walking to get there and had to grab a snack. Luckily in this country you are never too far away from a hawker center or food court. Maxwell's Food Center is one I'll be visiting again: for just a few cents you can get a thick pancake folded over a a sugary sweet crush of peanuts to make the most divine sort of snack. Top that off with some lychee juice (ice cold and served with a thick straw and a spoon so you can fish out the whole pitted fruit pieces at the bottom between sips of the sweet nectar) and buttery roti and you are in heaven. Top that off with a mango popsicle and you are ready to call it a day; only because you can't possibly snack any more or walk any further. I missed the downpour of rain just minutes after getting into the apartment and spent the rest of what remained of that day off my feet and wishing I had taken a bag of those pancake-peanut sandwiches home with me. While there are other places yet to see in Singapore, I do think I'll go back to sample the few foods I missed while munching on my day in the neighborhood of Tiong Bahru and Chinatown. 

Me and lucky cat, hanging out in Chinatown

Singapore’s Little India

Apparently, my *next* adventure until grown up life (you know, the one with car payments and succulent filled windows?) is Singapore. While living in China, I met a lovely family with 2 kids at the Nanjing LDS branch who need someone who could pick up and move their  life abroad without interrupting school or a career and hang out at their high rise for a few months…that person is me! And I couldn’t be more thrilled to be in Asia, though I did not miss the (long) flight — didn’t I just do this? The minute I landed in the Guangzhou, China airport, I’d been traveling some 20 plus hours but was just tickled to see those little orange juice squeezer vending machines. Oh China, how I’ve missed you. A short layover, then it was off to admire a jewel tone ocean and Malaysian coast out of my 3rd airplane window seat in the past 30 hours. I love you Asia, but you’re a beast to get to.

I’ve been in Singapore a week now, and have gotten pretty settled in. I adore the view from floor 17; you can just see the corner of 3 different swimming pools in between the geometric slats created by the towering apartments that dot the skyline. Singapore is a far cry from the adventures in China - the city’s shrouded in dense greenery pocketed by fancy hotels, high rise apartments and very ritzy shopping malls…at least, that’s the view from Orchard Lane (kitty corner to where I’m living). I’m all unpacked and got into the groove of working, taking afternoon breaks sipping Milo (South East Asia’s obsession - it’s basically a slightly more bitter, barley tasting chocolate milk. I love it.) while visiting the pool or going out with the kids until mom goes to work and I’ve got 3-4 hours to learn all I can about Pokemon while whipping up dinner. J., age 6, looooooooooves Pokemon.

While I rather like my weekday schedule, I’ve been itching to go out and do some exploring — and ever since I saw the “Little India” metro stop on my MRT app, I knew it would be adventure number one. I don’t nanny on Fridays, leaving me to get up early, snag a banana and Milo breakfast on my way out and take the 15 minute walk to ION, the ultra fancy shopping mall to catch the Metro. I say ultra fancy because this mall is bursting with stores like Tiffany’s, Louis Vuitton, Christian Louboutin, Dolce & Gabanna and others I can only dream of buying knock offs from. Time in China made me a metro pro, the whole transferring/line/“passengers please alight on the left” slogan is pretty familiar, as were the streets of Little India. 

I stepped off the metro about an hour before the stands had really opened, but even that early, the oppressively humid air was thick with spices. Vendors were just opening up, but I imagine coriander and pepper corns were being toasted for the day’s curries and masalas, because the swirl of spice hits your nose while walking down the quiet and vibrantly painted avenues. It’s quite the combination paired with the flowery scent from the bright orange and yellow floral garlands sold near the temples. 

Not that there was time to kill, but I spent an easy 2 hours wandering the expansive “everything” store that is Mustafas. Imagine 6 floors of everything….everything!; luggage, shoes, reams of fabric, electronics, fresh fish on ice, stacked canned drinks with text in Hindi and Chinese and English and anything else you can think of. I spent my time poking around the floor-to-ceiling shelves, searching the aisles for…nothing, but isn’t that the fun of it? I’ve got plans to come back. Several times. 

After spending most of my time in the grocery section of Mustafas, it’s only natural I stumble across another grocery store, — though this I suppose would be classified more as a “wet market”. Stationed in some type of open warehouse, whole chickens (and other proteins with parents) hacked up on wooden blocks created the outer ring, while piles of fresh vegetables and fruits created the next layer of color. People were milling about, discussing prices in an assortment of languages while riffling through piles of prawns and pomegranates. Though fascinating to watch, the middle ring is the reason I’ll be coming back. It was as hot as a sauna, but the most interesting little food court I’ve seen — tiny stalls of primarily Indian (but a few favorite Chinese meals were present too) created a maze  advertising quite the lunch selection. Still being early, I opted for a thick mango nectar…but will go back for lunch (and the lychee tea). It's nice to know I can revisit my favorites in India by hopping over a couple metro stops, at least for the next few months. 

My 100 Year Old Mansion

I knew I wanted to take some time to travel after graduating college. The lack of a job proposal after I walked to get my diploma did help with that decision, but I knew after my *next* trip I'd get a job, get an apartment, and decorate my windowsills with succulents while stressing over a car payment. That's the life, right? The summer after graduation was peppered with trips to Yellowstone and drives down to southern Utah. Thanksgiving travels brought a spontaneous trip to India. After Christmas, Chinese visas were stamped into my passport. Now, that gap year I had planned after graduating has turned into a year and some change. But after China, that's when I'd settle in and start work in a proper office like a grown up, right? Now I find myself typing away in California cafes and coffee shops during an extended stay in Coronado.

The invitation was too good to pass up. I write and edit for a couple different companies on a contracted freelance basis, meaning I can rack up my hours wherever there's wifi. And there happens to be wifi in this gorgeous home I'm staying in. Now, technically this mansion isn't mine. Just in case you didn't get the "I can't afford a house in Coronado because I work as a writer then spend money on plane tickets vibe", I can't even think of being able to afford to live here because I work as a writer and spend money on plane tickets. My cousins are managing the property in their own inspired turn of events, and there happens to be 14 or so extra rooms for me to stay in. How could I say no?

I've got hours to spend with my 3 darling second cousins; I mean, you can't resist when an adorable little curly haired 3-year-old says "Can you pick me up and read me a story?". I'm more than happy to play on the rope swing or pick oranges with the kids while parents can run errands without their energetic entourage. I'll plug away in the library reading articles or out the porch with a cuppa tea in the mornings, read some stories and join the princesses in their castle or battle with lightsabers before packing a bag for the beach. It's a walkable 10 minutes past charming beach homes and sprawling estates before reaching sandy shores and ocean views, interrupted only by the massive naval ships out in the distance. I'll stay for the afternoon, devouring novels and snacking on goodies from the adorable grocery store down the street. My calendar has the local farmer's market pegged and I'm already used to scheduling in the beach a couple days a week (in between appointments at the princess castle, of course).

I still am infatuated with the blue tiled and old styled bathtub knobs, and the ivy carpeted windows. Everything is so old and enchanting. Sure, a house this old has its quirks but it's an adventure to live somewhere with old metal door knobs that twist to open heavy wooden doors, or black and white tiled kitchens with an actual icebox refrigerator.

It's lovely.

I bought a one way ticket to California and don't know what the next chapter will be in my extended gap year. Maybe I'll get that succulent filled window sill and car payment, or maybe my post graduate year will spill into two...or three.

Being Home.

That drive to and from the airport will never get old. The way there is usually early in the morning, suitcases stuffed full of necessities and snacks you'll miss while abroad. Your passport is anxious for a couple more stamps. The way home is different, but sort of the same. The zipper on your suitcase tugs more around that one corner, and your old passport stamps join the new ones whose ink has dried...but you still feel the pull of the empty pages near the back. Its the same road, same freeway, and same exits, but feels different. I love the drive home from the airport more than the way there. Big hugs and chats about being home fill the car as you pull into the driveway of the house you haven't seen for bit. I usually bee-line it to the fridge the minute I walk in the door.

China's return meant pouring a huge bowl of cereal with ice cold milk. And spoons. I'd had my fill of chopsticks and rice filled breakfasts the past few months. It's been almost 2 years since I had seen sister S., which meant a lot of catching up to do. It was lovely to see her again.

The recounting of a trip is also something to look forward to once you book your flight home. It's always bittersweet leaving somewhere, no matter how much you miss Mini Wheats and cold milk. But you get to relive and catalogue your adventures once you are home. Meeting with friends for lunch, or finally being able to FaceTime without the WiFi cutting out gives you the chance to tell those stories independent of their circumstances; the hilarious hotel situation in Hangzhou- the one with the missing wall?- is devoid of the feeling of frustration and freezing cold rain. Instead, it's a humorous story that your friends really can't believe. What do you mean all five of you shared a bed?

Which is good...and bad. You love visiting with the people who were there with you or who have been there because they get it. They don't need the backstory that really only provides a fraction of what it was really like. And not that you tell these stories to replace someone else's own experience- your version of canal rides in Suzhou can't ever replace the actual chance to do that for yourself- but it's frustrating to not convey in exact detail what it was like. You can talk all day long about the people you met and the kids you taught and show pictures, but it doesn't do it justice. But you don't really travel to create that experience for someone else, you do it for you. You get to see the world and learn about you in ways nothing else can replace. You push yourself to experience circumstances you would have declined at home but you whole heartedly agree because you love who you are when you travel.You love that compulsion for experience, that hunger to understand, and the chance to come home and believe that your escapades in India, or your contemplative prayers in Israel happened to someone else. Flipping through photos reminds you that it was really you who did all those things... how could you have forgotten? It feels like those adventures belong to someone else.

I love how you come home and fall into familiar patterns, but with a slight twist. A smile when you pull out the porcelain bowls you bought in Turkey are filled with your neighborhood's 'version' of gelato that reminds you of a time in Italy, which is similar to what happened to you while in Jordan, which is also like that one time in China. The association game goes on and on, and hopefully won't end. And while I'm still reminiscing about my last adventure, and I'm happy to be home, and I'm grateful to be speaking English again...but there's something to be said about planning my next adventure, wherever it might be.

Teacher, This Empty Glue Stick is for You.

I knew when I came to China the days of making construction paper binoculars and teaching spelling lessons would come to an end. Between the weeks of visiting other cities in China, I always came back to a classroom of kids whose stories (and names) made me laugh. I'd grown attached to all 84 of them; how could you not? Each one has a little personality and while sometimes that personality meant snarling and speaking behind your back in Chinese, you love your kids...meaning the end of the semester held some very sad goodbyes. 

All the teachers and students had worked very hard to put on a final performance for the parents of each of our students.  My older kids combined with the other 3 classes and put on a production of "The Wizard of Oz". It was a bit of an issue trying to make sense of a play that included talking lions, melting witches, and flying monkeys, but by the end it seemed like the students enjoyed themselves. Our adorable second graders embarked on an underwater adventure, each class divided up into different ocean going groups; lifeguards, pirates, sailors, snorkelers, hula dances, and beach goers. It. Was. Adorable. The production was beyond cute, each class had learned a little skit and dance to go along to their dance with each kid dressed up in their little beach attire. My 7 cuties were dressed up with white suspenders over blue and white striped tee shirts as the cutest sailors I've ever seen...and because I'm in charge, they all belted out the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" and danced with sequined construction paper fish after their skit. It was so cute, however having the production over meant only 2 meager days with our kids before saying goodbye. 

SO. CUTE. 

The fourth graders seemed indifferent to our departure. The last two of days of classes were filled with lawless games of Uno (seriously, in what universe can you play Uno on teams and put down a blue 4 when the card on the deck is a red 7?) and towers of Jenga. Origami lessons happened while movies played, and a random assortment of treats were shoved into open mouths until the bells rang.  It was all good fun but the only difference between the previous party day and our last day was the fact that some students were interested in swapping WeChat information and a hug before running outside the classrooms. And that was that. 

Second grade was a different story. My cute kids lined up by class in the gymnasium, looking eager to see what sort of games or crafts awaited them. Their Chinese teacher wanted us to read a book with our classes, but we all interpreted that to mean taking as many pictures and videos as we possibly could in the truncated class period. When all six classes lined up to leave, all the teachers were in tears. Their Chinese instructor told them in Chinese that today was the last day which prompted the sweet girls to sob and sob and sob. After some wet hugs, they lined up to leave. 

This is intentionally in black and white because of my blotchy crying face. 

 A couple of days later, we were allowed to say a quick hello and goodbye after classes had ended which was a much happier affair. Kids swarmed to supply their WeChat information and eagerly accepted ours. I had written notes for my home room on Salt Lake City postcards which were received with mixed results; some kids loved the notes, others were confused as to why I had given them a card with snowy mountains and a skier on it. I myself received a few gifts; a Snow White pencil, a 'white-out' sticker roll, and an empty glue stick. It seems my cute kids had shoved their hands into desks and pulled out whatever school supplies they could part with in 10 minutes. 

With the promise of chats and video calls from my cute kids, I'll leave for the Shanghai, Pudong airport after a couple days longer in Nanjing. In the meantime, I plan on drinking buckets of coconut bubble tea, slurping up plates of hand pulled noodles, and trying to fit all my souvenirs into various suitcases. I'll be sure to find room for a Snow White Pen, a white out roll, and an empty glue stick. 

Lunch With 100,000 Buddhas

A short bullet train ride from the Xi'an train station got us to part two of the last vacation in China. It's hot in the city of Luoyang, we'd been traveling consistently since February, and there were definite stressors waiting for us back in Nanjing...but I wasn't going to cut a vacation short. Since it was our last little trip in China, I was going to make the best of it. That meant air conditioned taxis the whole trip long. I had done my time crammed onto busses, sardine-like. I loved it, but it was time to only have my sweat on my shirt at the end of the day, instead of the sweat of dozens of strangers you are pressed against as you make the 42 minute bus ride back to the city center. Oh, China. That air conditioned ride to the Luoyang Grottoes was worth every Yuan.

I meant my promise of treating this trip like old people. We paid for a tram to take us to the caves, a boat to take us back to the tram, and a return tram back to the exit. It was glorious.

The Grottoes were a highlight I'd been looking forward to for weeks. Once I delved into China's exhaustive history, I knew I wanted to see some of the best preserved grottoes that had somewhat survived the brutality of the Cultural Revolution. Luoyang did not disappoint. I was completely astounded to think of who had carved thousands - literally, thousands - of tiny Buddhas into this cave complex. While the massive statues were worth a marvel, each other the teeny carvings were incredible to look at. Another poignant memory was the blazing heat. There is not a person on this planet I would have given a hug to in that heat. Mom and dad? Nope. Gus from Alt - J? Handshake. The sister I haven't seen for two years? High five. It. Was. So. Hot. Despite this heat, corner shops at the base of the grottoes were selling 1) Hot tea 2) Hot milk and 3) Hot water. Hard pass.

 I could barely keep my popsicle from melting down in sticky drips before taking it out of the wrapper. That was lunch, in case you were wondering. I had no appetite for anything other than frozen foods at that point in the day.  After a stroke of heat exhaustion and more sweaty admiration of the grottoes, it was off to our hostel.

Our cool vibe hostel had fabulous air conditioning which we took full advantage of before scavenging for dinner. A little noodle shop around the block had a steaming bowl of tomatoes and eggs, which was delicious. I tolerated the hot meal with 2 ice cream bars before heading to lantern street for some Chinese shopping. I picked up a tee printed with bananas (a wardrobe staple, didn't you know?), some NKIE socks, and a handful of snack from the vendors that lined the streets. It's been months, but I still love seeing ruby red crawfish neatly staked in rows next to those tasty long, thin, ivory mushrooms. It's a stunning site.

After grabbing some nectarines from a fruit cart (I can't even think about not having those carts dot my streets back home, because I'm addicted) I thanked my strong immune system after seeing one rinsed off in the gutter water. Yum. It's another early morning tomorrow,

Terracotta Tandem Bikes.

As if my semester of teaching abroad hasn't had enough adventures, there was still one last 5 day vacation on my calendar. The obvious choice was to head north and west of Nanjing to Xi'an; there was no way I was leaving China without seeing thousands of Terracotta Warriors lined up in neat little rows.

So many soldiers. 

Our adventure started (and ended) with a sleeper train; the delight of sleeping in a stack of 3 beds on either side sandwiched between Chinese riders who talk very loudly through the night and take phone calls in inopportune hours of the morning was just too much fun to resist. (By fun, I mean affordable). The fun continued when 2 members of our Xi'an travel group did have a bit of a Goldilocks situation to deal with on this sleeper train. Upon boarding, 2 beds had wrinkled sheets and obvious evidence of someone sleeping in their bed. The story is funnier when you factor in the fact that each bed would be deemed "too hard" by anyone playing Goldilocks. China knows a lot of things, but it is a stranger to a soft mattress. Luckily, things were sorted out relatively quickly despite the language barrier.

I, however, lucked out my bunk mates this time around, none of whom had slept in my bed before my arrival. A very cute family with a very cute 7 year old were polite and very quiet; the most noise made was teaching mini Chinese/English lessons before the train's lights went out. Upon arrival at the Xi'an station, they invited our group of Americans to find and ride the bus to the Terracotta museum with them, meaning we didn't have to spend an eternity looking up where to find the bus station and triple checking our information to find the right bus.

I had goals of painting calligraphy on my own fan, but I decided to leave it to the experts. 

After buying tickets and weaving between souvenir vendors, we said goodbye to our little adopted family and went to explore the complex that houses the warriors. Pit #1 was first up on the list; a dusty airplane hanger swarming with tourists. When you did get your turn to see the warriors, it was difficult to take in. Rows, and rows and rows of soldiers lined up, each armed with a unique facial expression. Though the line was impressive, the highlight of the first pit came from the glimpses of the restoration process. Further into the hangar, soldiers were slowly being pieced together, held together by plastic wrap as their missing hands and armor shards were awaiting placement. Though it would be incredible to see the warriors all put together and lined up, it was impressive to see the meticulous work it takes to get these statues in one piece.

We spent the rest of our day admiring the other pits, and checking into our hostel. A visit to the Muslim Quarter made for an excellent dinner (that aspect of Xi'an will be getting it's own post), before heading to bed. Day 2 in Xi'an was a scorcher, so obviously the best way to enjoy the blistering sun was to ride atop the massive city wall on tandem bike.

Obsessed with these spicy noodles paired with cucumber. 

H. and I had the goal of riding as many forms of transportation as possible while abroad. While busses, planes and metros were easy wins, some of the more obscure modes of transportation were more tricky to find. But with motor scooters, chairlifts, ziplines, paddleboats, and bamboo rafts (etc),  under our belts, the tandem bike just had to happen. So, the minute we read online you could tandem bike in Xi'an, it was a guaranteed part of our trip. This method of getting around required much more of learning curve than our other forms (though a segway in Suzhou was also a bit tricky), it was a blast despite the furnace like temperature.

Tandem bike? Check. 

Naturally, the next course of action was the find shade and ice cream as soon as possible, leading us to the busy Muslim Quarter.  For details and artsy photos of walnuts, see the "Lunching in the Muslim Quarter" post.  That evening was spent making traditional foods for the Dragon Boat festival and double checking details about the next half of our trip. It was a quick visit to Xi'an, but well worth the trip.