The Return

Gone for exactly four months, and now I'm back home again, in the same chair, in front of the same television, but this time, watching the Jersey Shore (Yes, this is my first impression of the States upon returning... Lookin' Good, America.)

I've been home for six days... and unfortunately, I am bored already. Somehow, even though when away, I plan out these long extravagent days, traveling from one end of the city to the other on food adventures, I always just end up in front of the television (soon to be telly), watching MTV marathons, eating leftovers, and rummaging through the cupboards for some greasy snacks... Ahh, to be an American again.

Anyway, I am officially in love with Asia. The food, the weather (some parts of the year), the fast public transportation, the low cost of living; did I mention the food? So in summary of the four months I've been there, I have stayed in Hong Kong, traveled with Seoul and Bangkok, paid for an overpriced Chinese visa, took a train into mainland China, and all the tourist traps involved.

This year, I will forgo the annual New Year's Eve celebration, meaning a tub of ice cream, homemade cookies, and a Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks movie marathon, to board a flight to London for the new semester! I am curious, actually very curious, as to how the pilots, flight attendants, and passengers will celebrate at midnight, pacific time. "Attention all passengers, we have arrived at the new year...", perhaps...

Location: San Francisco, CA, USA

Song Playing: Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z

One More Week in Hong Kong

I'm probably at the 3 months, 3 weeks mark of my Hong Kong stay. Uhh! But I love it here! Because of my student Octopus card, I take the metro anywhere in the city for under a dollar. My favorite thing at the bakery is this little cheesy puff at Yakazaki bakery, which are 25 cents USD each. I can get a milk tea boba, 24 oz for 1.50USD. No tax when purchasing items. McDonald Value Meals are under 4 USD. The weather finally dried up, resembling more of LA. A wonderful 20 degrees Celsius here in the middle of December. Finished all my 24 hr. finals, group projects, research papers, oral exams, etc. Here, the toilet paper comes in three-ply; the States doesn't even have that. And, for my four months of cell phone use, I've paid about a total of 45 USD. What else does a person want out of life?

But... in a week I have to take a 12 hr. flight home to San Francisco, stay 8 days, and hop on a place of some length to go to London. Then, meet up with Christina, and possibly have to leave again only to reenter as a Student. Silly, immigration office, you're just making more work for yourself by not accepting me as a student in the first place. Like I would really stay there illegally when I'm a U.S. citizen. Discriminate against a national from a developing region. Come on, now.

And look, I've found a cup cakery in Hong Kong. And only a dollar each!

I'm calling this place home!

Location: Hong Kong, Hong Kong, SAR

Song Playing: One More Time with Feeling by Regina Spektor

Look at the Lao Wai 老外!!

老外 means white foreigner; think gringo in Spanish

Well, three weeks ago, I boarded an eleven-hour train to Guilin, China (桂林) on my 20th birthday. So, unless you call a hot cup noodle on board of the sleeping car of a Chinese train, with Chinese men crowding around the smoking ends a celebration, my birthday hat, cake, and candles had an early retirement on the top bunk of a claustrophobic bunker cell. Sorry, forgot to take any pictures.

Anyway, we arrived into Guilin at 6:30AM to sight of Chinese cab drivers, smoking outside the train station, trying to pick up riders. The usual sightseeing in Guilin: caves with portions that resembles terrified animals, hills that resemble elephants or camels, and general natural landscapes that resembles something ordinary. In China, nature just can't stay nature; it's only amazing if it resembles something, preferably an animal.

See the resemblence to an elephant? Now, that's amazing.

Camel, any one?

This portion of the cave resembles this:

Really, now?

So after walking through two caves that were lit with neon lighting and read descriptions such as the one above, we realized that the tourism board was most definitely high when they approved this. Only explanation.

After a day in Guilin, we took a bus to Yangshuo, where this fare lady on the bus thought she could fool the laowai and the huaqiao (overseas ethnic Chinese). So thinking that the fare was 10 RMB a person, we handed her a twenty, which she then hollered into our ears, that it was 15 RMB per person. So when we were pulling odd objects out of our pockets looking for a ten RMB bill, the lady uncleverly pulls a 10 RMB bill to the front of her stack of money so that whenwe hand her our additional 10 RMB bill, screams again in our ears "Oh, only twenty dollars here total." Already irritated by the fact that she was probably overcharging us, we both burst out in Mandarin, screaming that "you're conning us"; "I saw you move that ten over; no I gave you twenty already." Ugh! She's finally backed down, saying that she wasn't going to argue with us and then walks back to the front of the bus. China... *shakes head

Yangshuo, which reminded me of Aquas Calientes at the valley of Machu Picchu, survives off of the foreign and Chinese tourists who come for the sights of the grassly peaks over looking the Li River. Gorgeous, by the way! On day one, we ended up taking a bamboo raft ride on the Li River for 40 RMB total for 40 mins. In other currencies then, 6 USD for a slightly hefty Chinese man, smoking a cigarette, to pull an artificial bamboo boat up and then down the stream again for 40 mins. Sounds like a deal! Day two, we rented an electric bike because confession! I doubt that I can ride a bicycle. I know you never forget but do you really remember if you only probably rode a bicycle successfully for five minutes once when you were seven. Yup, doubts.

Location: Hong Kong, Hong Kong

Tuk Tuk? You Want Tuk Tuk?

Well, everything's a good price in Bangkok. From the street-vendor pad thai for 25 Bahts(=.75USD) to the 15 mins metered taxi for 60 Bahts (1.90USD), everything is jaw-droppingly cheap. Immediately after leaving the airport, mistakenly arriving at Khao San Road, I exchanged my 150 USD's for Thai Baht. In return, I got crisp, not even one slight crinkle Bahts. With the exchange rate of 33.3 Baht per 1 US Dollar, I had literally a wad of cash that my wallet could not even close. Talk about monopoly money.

Spending only four days, I went to Khao San Road (the backpackers' haven, they call it), ziplined through the forests/jungles, ate savory and sweet street foods in plastic bags that will probably give me cancer, petted a baby tiger, baby crocodile, and ginormous elephant, walked through a line of loitering prostitutes, was assisted by ladyboy-waitresses/ers, took off my shoes (again. Note Seoul) in order to step into an establishment, raided a 7-11 for midnight snacks, played calculator-bargaining war with street sellers, unknowingly taken to a tailor shop by a tuk tuk driver, and finally, was repeatedly offered a ping pong show (Wikipedia has a more than necessary description). Bangkok: check. Exhaustion: check.

Like Jimmy Fallon's late-night talk show, where he introduces a new segment almost every night to win back those lost viewers from the transition of Conan to Fallon, I bring you my newest segment: Coupon Clippings!!!!

Coupon Clippings: Bangkok, Thailand

1.5L Bottle of Water: .20 USD

Metro Train Ride: .60-.90 USD

Fun-Size Bag of Lay's Chips: .30 USD

Pad Thai with Chicken: 1 USD

Iced Milk Tea: .30 USD

Tourist T Shirts: 3 USD

Postcard: .12 USD

Seoul-Trippin'

안녕하세요!
[An nyoung ha seh yo = Hello] One of the two phrases that I learned while in Korea this past weekend. That and 감사합니다 [kamsamnida = thank you]. To my surprise, people just kept speaking to me in Korean; I guess since I look Asian and in Korea, I might as well be Korean. But, with such drool-worthy food, adorably impractical stationary, inexpensive fish-shaped-red-bean pancakes [3 for .80USD], and less than 15USD flats, call me Korean and Seoul my homeland.

Spent 4.5 days in Seoul, sleeping in the cellar of some hostel located in the Hongdae district. Ate at restaurants less than 6,000W (or 5USD) each meal. Spent 900W(or .80USD) each way on the Metro. Sightsaw palaces, reproductions of traditional Korean villages, and other anachronistic locations in the middle of the traffic-bustling, Starbucks-addicted Seoul.
Other than doing the usual tourist bit, I tried my best to have one of those days, wandering around a new city, avoiding all tourist traps, and out of the blue, stumbling upon a local shop or bar, but instead around every corner was a Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, or possibly The Body Shop. Ahh, the American mall never escapes me. One night, however, walking around the streets of Hongdae for a street-food dinner, we heard the echos of American classics overpowering the equally loud chatter of conversation. Learning from my time in Peru that bars on the second floor with shaky, termite-infested staircases are typically the best places to grab a drink, to observe the bustling street of tipsy locals, and to calculate how much money you've spent that day, we found Bar [insert Korean character I can't read], which looked like a mini-bar of pirate ship, with sea-themed objects hanging off the ceiling, polaroids of unconscious regulars tiled along the wall, and dishes of dried fish as your chit-chat snacker.

Taking the subway to and from locations, I did stumble upon some idiosyncrasies of the average Seoulite. There is, to a San Franciscan, an unbearable quiet on a subway car, due to the fact that most of the riders are on their music players or watching TV off of Ipod-like devices with an oddly-angled antennas. Or, when parting the Red Sea of a crowd, Seoulites do not feel the need for vocally alert you of their oncoming collision of elbows, shoulders, or just dangling limbs. Instead, they just move ahead with shoulders and elbows ready to take on its victims. First-hand experience: Several times, when grown to elderly men would shoulder-bump me to the point of losing balance in order to get on a train. Subway war wounds, I call it.

Location: Hong Kong SAR

Song Playing: New Thao Album!

One Month Mark in Hong Kong!

Welcome to the One-Month Mark!

I remember reaching that one month mark in Peru only to be left alone by my fellow volunteers at Cusco Airport a few days after. But, the funny thing I just realized is that I haven't celebrated a one-month mark in the States since July, nor will I until hmm... July of 2010. Does that earn me expat status?

Being in Hong Kong for a month has made me really appreciate weather I have always taken for granted. I have learned the feeling of upper-lip sweat, now understand the need for an umbrella (not that I practice that nor will I ever; I will just return home looking like burnt toast), have experienced the native ritual of standing in front of the air conditioner. Oh, how I miss the San Francisco fog, or even dry Los Angeles, 85 degree heat sounds attractive right about now. Other than the weather being worthy of complaining, the mosquitos. Oh, those darn things that makes my legs look dalmation-themed. I never heard one buzz across my ear, but I sure see the remnants of their gluttonous appetites. Enough with the complaining about my last month here, classes at Chinese University of Hong Kong has begun. Human Rights, Love in Indian Culture, Intermediate Mandarin, Korean Society; I mean business, yo! Taking classes Monday to Wednesday with Thursday and Friday means 'hello' East and Southeast Asia! One weekend in October for Seoul (aka Seoul-Trippin' in October) and another very long weekend in Bangkok (any play-on-words for Bangkok would just be inappropriate.)

To mark my time here in Hong Kong, or really having a base in Hong Kong for the rest of my Asian travels, I will purchase some cheap Moleskine replica and write down all the memorable Lost-in-Translation English I see here in Hong Kong, as well as Seoul and Bangkok.

Here's the breakdown of the price of food in Hong Kong:

1 USD = 7.75 (or 8) HKD

24 oz of Milk Tea Tapioca = 11HKD

Bowl of Won-Ton Noodle Soup = 16HKD

Student Fare of Train from University to Kowloon = About 5 HKD

Vanilla Bean Flavoured Beard Papa = 12 HKD

McDonalds Big N' Tasty Meal = 26 HKD



Beautiful. Call me king 'cause I sure eat like one.

Location: Shatin, Hong Kong SAR

Interesting Find: Hong Kong

I bought a bottle of sweat, sorry, hydrating sweat. Mmm, Delicious.

Now to Conquer Asia!

On the eve of my departure for Hong Kong, I can't say that I have spent enough time in San Francisco to start up a routine nor had enough time to get unhung up about my time in Peru. But anyway, I've once again packed up all my clothes, this time with more variation than just jeans and v-neck tee shirts, into a suitcase for the next four months. For this part of the year, I have honestly done the worst amount of research, as in none. No Lonely Planet or Fodor's. No checking the weather channel for the latest updates. Just a suitcase of clothes, a Northface Denali for those chilly nights, and running shoes. I don't even know when and where my orientation is for Chinese University (CUHK) nor do I know if I have been assigned to a dorm on campus just yet. And I thought, not knowing if I was assigned to a host family for my stay in Peru was a low point in 'preparedness' (Cub Scouts of America, you can take away that honorary badge I got in 3rd grade).

I had all intentions of pulling an all-nighter tonight, binge-watching How I Met Your Mother, but I really can't stay up any later passed midnight. Especially knowing that it will probably be my last night on a real mattress for a while, since I will probably be bumming on my gram's couch for the next week.

P.S I will proudly be wearing my party pants/official backpacker pants while flying to Hong Kong tomorrow. I hope that means 'welcome to the club.'

Current Location: San Francisco, CA, USA

Trek of 30 Hours and Reverse Culture Shock

30 hours after my initial departure from my house in Cusco, I am back home, sitting in wifi internet, with my dearly-missed laptop and a cup of coca tea. How I have coca tea in the States, please don't ask. After a stop in Lima for 13 hours, then panicking through the security and customs at Lima Airport because I was actually late for my departure time, a brief layover in Houston, where I realized that the States, a land of gringos, is so boring compared to Peru, I arrive in San Francisco. At one point of my trek home, I turned to Katie, my fellow intern, while at the Houston Airport bathroom, and said "Katie, you realize that this sink (complete with hot water and slight pressure) is better than the shower we've had for a month and a half." Despite my amazement of water pressure in sinks here, I truly do miss Cusco. Walking out of my Cusco house mid-day with the beaming sun and the stray dogs roaming the streets aimlessly. The sight of the fountain in Plaza de Armas with Peruvian children bundled up in adorable hats with earflaps, selling packets of gum. And then at the sight of the newest People Magazine on stands and overhearing the CNN reporting about the autopsy of Michael Jackson at the domestic terminal in Houston Airport, I suddenly had the greatest urge to return to Avenida del Cultura and buy an alfajor (a shortbread cookie sandwich with caramel and powdered sugar; yes, it is delicious).

Before my return to the States, my last weekend, I did go to Urubamba for the first time with Matt and Alena. On a Saturday at noon, the central plaza in Urubamba is completely empty with barely a moto riding through. What a change from the crazy, hustle and bustle streets of Cusco that I can barely get cross without getting run over. Having never been there before, we aimlessly wandered around town and north of the plaza, including breaking into another volunteer office, thinking it was Casa ProPeru. We should have stayed. But, by late afternoon, everything was in order with us finally finding a decent hostel, and having eaten lunch. At one point, probably my favorite point of the night, we three sang the lyrics of Wonderwall by Oasis (having heard it in a discoteca the night before) while walking down the lonely streets of Urubamba, looking for a good dinner spot. The next morning, we woke up way too early in order to go to the Sunday Pisac Market to buy some last minute souvenirs. Oh, how I love the Pisac Market; I could never help stroking the alpaca scarves or picking up the knick-knack sized Incan crosses, but bargaining with those ladies is ruthless.

Several times in the last two days of being home, I think back and can't believe that only three days ago, or only four days ago, I was in Lima, Cusco, and Urubamba. Being back in my house with my room intact as when I left it a month and a half ago, there's an odd reflection that being in Peru, taking a combi to work, and walking around Machu Picchu just seems like an unreal episode of a summer.

But the remnants of my month and a half still remain after two days of home, probably called some form of culture shock. I still flinch at the sight of oncoming cars, even though there's a traffic light indicating me to go. I now flush my toilet paper into a toilet with a sense of guilt as if I was doing something wrong. Right as I enter the shower, I still hold that slight hope that the water would be decently warm, even though I have turned the hot water knob to the furthest extent. I have learned that the most educational way of watching Friends is with Spanish subtitles. Oddly, I think I'm experiencing more reverse culture shock in the States than when I first arrived in Cusco.

Location: San Francisco, CA, USA

Song Playing: Wait for Love by Josh Ritter

Last Week!

I can now say I am have been here for more than a month now! Time certainly flew by fast but at the sight of seeing my fellow volunteers leave on Sunday, it's not flying fast enough! Even though I am so ready for hot showers, hot water in sinks, warmth, traffic laws, dogs on leashes, and pedestrian's right of way, I did sign up for a 5 week program and should not settle on anything shorter.

Going to the airport on Sunday with Emily and, more or less, everyone else was the biggest tease of my life. Bigger than those Harry Potter trailers! Standing in line for check-in, yelling over the LAN airlines counter, and frantically resolving any flight complications all teased me about my non-existent flight back to the States that day! And, of course, being on the verge of tears, as people walked up the escalators toward security. Hello, last scene in Garden State with Natalie Portman. 'No, it's not an ending/period, just an elipsis.' What bullshit, Zach Braff! Fortunately, my flight on Monday the 10th, I will not be alone but I will not be ready for a 30 hour trip back home. Layovers when flying home are the most torturous! For the time, being I am hanging out at the ProPeru office, like it's my best friend, clinging onto the desktop circa 2000.

For this week, I have to have an intense souvenir shopping session, spending the last of my Soles, probably on little llama statues. Which reminds me, for my newfound hate of airport tax. 5 dollars to get out of Cusco to Lima, and then 30 dollars to leave Lima. I think this should be investigated as some form of ransom for my month.half long kidnapping in Peru. Homeland Security, work your wonders! I barely spend that much in a week here! I prefer my airport tax, hidden in my airfare, which mysteriously jumps several hundred dollars after I choose the flight on Travelocity. Please con me that way from now on!

Anyway, several more days to go before I am back in the States. Only for 9 days before I am off to Asia, so catch me if you can (I want to be Leo, and you be can Tom Hanks. Receding hairlines so do not bring out my eyes.)

Back from Machu Picchu!

This past weekend, three volunteers and I took the PeruRail train from Ollanta to Aguas Calientes, but before that took a car ride from Cusco to Ollanta. Booked through a travel agency, the agent literally placed us into a car, set for Ollanta, when the driver just peeled off his unofficial 'TAXI' sticker to suddenly be a personal car. We were curious, if when we arrived at the train station in Ollanta, that he would suddenly stick a 'TRAIN' sticker and then drive us straight to Aguas Calientes. But no, the driver was very nice, pointing out the various landmarks along the route. Unfortunately, because of a car accident blocking the road into Ollanta, he could only drop us off at the foot of the town and we trekked the way to the train station, which was 15 min of a mad dash to the train station with fear that we were going to miss the train. But of course, since the entire country of Peru runs on Peruvian time, we caught the train just in time, but with my jeans splattered with mud, since the ground with flooded with mud from the rain the night before.
The train ride was gorgeous! I would recommend the train ride over a bus anyday, since it is only an hour forty compared to the six hour bus ride zigzagging through the mountains. We had seats on the Backpackers car, where we all commented that we've never seen that many gringos (white foreigners) in a month. The town of Aguas Calientes is composed mostly of restaurants tailored to foreigners, pharmacies for altitude sickness, and the typical souvenir shops. But I do warn you, everything is hiked up in prices, typically double the price in Cusco. We did go to the Hot Springs in Aguas Calientes located up the hill from the town, which in my personal recommendation, I would say you're not missing anything if you don't go. Actually, save your ten soles that is the admission price. The hot springs is probably false advertisement considering that the water was more warm, edging lukewarm, and the company of middle-aged European men with skimpy swim trucks is questionable. Afterwards, we just ran back from the springs to shower in our hostel.
We ended up taking the bus up to Machu Picchu in the morning. Travel Tip: Wake up early for the bus. The first bus is at 5:30AM but people start lining up at least 4:45AM. Machu Picchu was amazing! Totally deserving the honor of a World Heritage site and one of the Man-made wonders of the World. I would highly recommend having a tour because there is so much significance in the structures itself that are not easily grasped by simply staring at it.
I am currently sick with another stomach virus so I've had to cancel my trip to Puno and Lake Titicaca, which is heartbreaking to do. But, I do hope to recover by the weekend to do something absolutely stomach-turning, like paragliding.

More Pictures: http://myproworld.goabroad.net/collection.php?type=traveler&ID=11727&context=traveleralbum&genID=1908

Things Learned/Developed While in Cusco

A short list of things that I have learned or developed while living in Cusco:

• Showers are typically heated with electricity, meaning that more water pressure is colder while less water is hotter. In actuality, there's only two choices cold and boiling hot trickle.
  
• Night do hit freezing here. On a bad night, below freezing. Thank God for my Denali.
  
• I have developed a sixth sense for oncoming cars. Cusconians (sp?) have never heard of the concept, pedestrian's right of way, instead it's cars' right of way here. So when crossing the street, the slightest hum of a car engine would trigger me to walk faster or not walk at all.
• My seventh sense is for dog shit. The city of Cusco, and not surprisingly probably most of Peru, are the stray dogs' bathroom. So while power-walking through the cold, I know to swerve from fresh or dried dog shit. Oh, how I wish Harvey Milk lived here to introduce the concept of picking up your shit.
• Related to the previous note: I have never seen a dog on a leash here. Dogs are simply guard dogs here and my house has a dusty lil' grey terrier; yes, I feel safe.
• Never expect to get a seat on a Cambi, vans acting as buses. Not matter the gender, the age, or the disability, it's a first come, first serve world here.
• How to look for an official taxi: there are plenty are cars acting as taxis by simply attaching a sticker, saying TAXI on the front window. So instead you have to look out for the checkered pattern on the side of the car. At night especially, but the occasional non-lighted street poses a probelm.
• Because of the high altitude here in Cusco and the fact that soda is probably shipped in from Lima, the soda explodes on you, when opening. So open the bottle of soda in bag.
• Taxis honk at you, especially gringos, in order to get some business. Taxis also honk at you when you're about to crash into them. So never ignore them.
• Like there exists Filipino time, which is typically 15 minutes plus the designated time, there is Peruvian time, which is probably edging 20-30 minutes. So, always bring something to do.
• As una china riding a Cambi everyday, I get stares from all the passenger on the van/bus. The best way to make them stop is to stare back, and then they eventually back off.
• Learned not to be insulted that Peruvians insist on slanting one eye when having learned that you're Chinese. Not that I ever was, considering my Dad jokes around, calling us Orientals.
• That your body may just never warm up at night. Even under four layers of blankets.

¡What a Weekend!

Just to review, on Saturday, I boarded a busvan, along with my fellow interns and semester students to Huanocondo, a small town an hour outside of Cusco, to build stoves. Yes, you've heard it through the horse's mouth-slash-blog, I built a stove. Out of mud, probably feces as well because it doesn't discriminate, straw, rocks, and brick. The local women actually brought our jugs of water, poured it onto the dirtstrawfeces, and stomped on it with their bare feet. Impressive! It did take us two hours to build one, and at one point, I swear the entire block's housewives were crowded around our stove (which was outside because the house will be built around it. I do appreciate their priorities about which part of the house is most important). They just kept chatting to each other in SpanishQuechua about how our stove will not hold up and until we brought in our local liaison person to explain how it's perfectly fine. But, our stove was a beauty! We slapped on that mud like professionals! After only a half-day of that, we returned back to Cusco exhausted and honestly looking as if our limbs mud-wrestled. After a lukewarm shower (after the water cutoffs, I've lowered my shower standards to just have water be there), we headed out to Paddy's, the Irish pub in the city square (unlikely but necessary). I think I have acclimated to living standard here too much, which is a 1-3 USD for more or less everything, but I paid 18 Soles6 USD for a Guinness. It honestly made my wallet teared up a bit.
Now the fun doesn't just stop at my expensive can of beer (yes can, not even bottle), Sunday, we went out to Sacsayhuaman (pronounced sexywoman, honestly, as any Peruvians you know, I dare you to) and other Incan Ruins. Apparently, we weren't told about the slide that Sacsayhuaman has, off to the side. But, I did spot the BIG JESUS, or Cristo Blanco, as it accurately called, over looking the city, and I just had to go. I bugged to tour guide repeatedly if we were going there that day and how to get to the Jesus Grande until she told us that she'd led us half up a small mountain to get there. Oh, what a sight! It's huge! So, we found Jesus on Sunday, which could not be more appropriate.

Having been through several orientations for study abroad and such, and hearing how they made culture shock out as an actual disease, something along the lines of a stroke, I think I'm finally feeling it, and what I'm feeling is hunger. Yes, my culture shock is the fact that they eat their meals late. 2:30 for almuerzolunch and 8:00 for cenadinner. Why would anyone ever put off their meals or food in general until later? But Gaby's (my host mother) meals are to die for, so I guess it is worth the wait, not that I have any other choice.

Location: Cusco, Peru

P.S. Despite not knowing how to type out the (at) symbol, I do love the Spanish keyboard for its variety of symbols to chose from, when typing this out, such as , ¡, ¿, °, ¬. Also, before I forget, last week, my host family said I look like Mulan, yes the only Asian Disney character, but they meant it as a compliment because apparently Mulan is very pretty. Pues... mucho gracios

ParaPor° mas fotos: http://myproworld.goabroad.net/collection.php?type=traveler&ID=11727&context=traveleralbum&genID=1833
°I will learn which one is appropriate soon.

¡Hola Gringa!

It's been five days here and I'm still wrestling with the Spanish keyboard, and as you can see, I think it's winning, since I'm still copy-and-pasting my (at) symbol to log on.

In the past few days, I have:

• eaten trout and alpaca meat on a pizza, which is delicious! It tastes like tender steak with the after-taste of lamb
• riden by myself on one of those small buses, more like vans that drive with the sliding door open. If you've ever been to Hong Kong, it's like a siu ba, but more van-like and cramped to the last standing room. Costs 60 cents Soles, which is 20 cents American.
• eaten Chinese-Peruvian food, which is actually pretty good. Better than Panda Express.
• gone to the black market, Molina, which sounds scarier than it actually is. Hong Kong reference: think Shenzhen or Guangdong.
• gone living through two days with water on and off. It is currently off.

Having hosted international students before, this experience is definitely switched, awkwardly placed in a household. The house and family are lovely, and we have a little terriar guard dog, Aldana; what she can guard I don't know but she is adorable. I'm currently trying to win over the little six-year-old, Abigail, with the colorful hairties I brought for her. It's a work in progress.

I currently live with another college volunteer, an educator-volunteer, and a Spanish professor from Ireland, teaching in the program. Along with the three kids and parents, we surely make a big table for dinner. It's quite a hodge-podge of personas in one household, but in the midst of the Spanglish thrown around the table, we somehow all understand Ricardo's (my host papa) jokes.

Having Spanish at 8:30AM to 10AM Monday to Thursday, one on one with a teacher, is really improving my Spanish. I think now I have improved from dramatic telenovela one-liners to speaking like a four-year-old, struggling with suvject-verb agreement. I think Aldana, the dusty grey terriar, understands more Spanish than me.

P.S Gringo/a means foreigner or American in Spanish. I have yet to be gossiped about on the street with the word, but the professor sure loves to call the volunteers that.

Houston, Lima, Cusco, 27 Hours Later

Extracted from parts of my travel journal:
Lima International Airport
"The sight of airport workers and immigration agents with masks makes me a bit paranoid and permenantly attached to my personal bottle of Purell (hello, ugly American: Cate Blanchett in Babel). Having a 7 hours layover is awful, especially in Lima's international airport. The first floor (the check-in floor) has loitering taxi drivers who, at the sight of a North Face backpack, knows that you're a tourist and then pester you about getting a hostal for the night. Having been pestered twice and trying to pass out that I have a flight to Chile soon, I sat up on the second at the food court for 5 hours. Hello Tom Hanks in The Terminal, who totally made it out to be more fun than it really is."

27 hours later, I'm here in Cusco! Travel note: Continental Airlines is awesome. Of course, the food's not Zagat-rated and probably taste more along the lines of 2 dollar-microwave dinner, but they at least give you one. As well as a turkey sandwich at 9:30 PM, which is universally known as late-night snacktime. Cusco was freezing when I landed (fine, actually high 40s). I got picked up from the teeny-tiny airport by my program and placed in a taxi. After checking in, my tour guide just said bye and see you tomorrow, which left me in shock because I was the only arrived volunteer and had 24 hours to spend by myself. I ended up writing out a request for a map and directions for La Plaza de Armas (the city square) on my handy-dandy notebook because I tend to blank when I'm approaching someone to speak Spanish. Easy enough, four blocks away from the hotel. The weather surprisingly from my initial frozen finger tips when I arrived was warm, think mid-60s. I've read travel books saying that the temp really range throughout the day since Peru's so close to the equator. The city square is gorgeous! Every building is a shade of brown/tan here, but the streets are easy to navigate, and despite the high attitude level, after two hours on walking with two layers of jacket, I wasn't a bit struggling for air. That coca tea, a traditional Peruvian tea which I got right as I checked in, really works. Later that night, I did find that all my toothpaste, lotions, etcs. all immediately squirted out right as I opened it.

By the way, the hotel I'm staying in is gorgeous! Pictures will be up. But I actually sleep on the ground floor, looking out to the backyard/junkyard so I feel a bit like Harry Potter under the stairs here. Shower was a bit of a challenge. There's a tickle of water that comes out of the shower with two options: boiling hot or deathly cold and you can't mix the two. Once you turn on the cold water to your already hot water, it just turns cold. The nights are freezing here; the weather report actually says it hits 32 degrees F. I slept under a pile of blankets, leg warmers, and hiking socks, but I was cozy. Off to my second day!

P.S: typing on these Spanish keyboard is so frustrating. The keys don't actually match up.

The Hunt for the Perfect Travel Journal

For the last three days, I've scoured through all my favorite stationery stores in San Francisco on a mission...to find the perfect travel journal. My demands aren't outrageous. Something with a leather-like exterior. Lined paper that is neither too wide nor too narrow. Something about wide-ruled paper is just insulting to me, possibly due to those grammar school days practicing my cursive with the emphasis on especially round lower-case a's. So college-ruled, but oddly in the past few days, I have encountered journal pages with lines so packed in there that there was barely any room to dot an i. Also medium-sized because I hate moving to the next line after every fourth word. Preferably, one with a elastic band to keep the pages intact. Possibly, even with a sleeve to keep those random ticket stubs or receipts. I feel like I'm describing a Moleskine here, found at any bookstore, but I refuse to shell out fifteen dollars for a journal. Add that to the cost of internet cafes in Cuzco and my media grant would probably even itself out.

The only contender I found was at cute lil' Gable's Stationery in the outer Richmond. Called WritersBlok in a lovely three pack with a darling description:

Writing is good exercise. It’s good for your mind in the same way that riding a bike is good for your legs. It’s a way to communicate, capture a thought, grow an idea. It helps you think, be more creative, and….it’s fun. And these are things we think are good and good for you…

I refuse set out to Perú, scribbling on an used Mead notebook; I'm classier than that.

Location: San Francisco, CA

Song Playing: Rocks and Daggers by Noah and the Whale

San Francisco and Rand McNally

Having said goodbye to Los Angeles by peeking through my kleenex box and Christina's desk lamp of junk leftover from our dorm room, I arrived in San Francisco after several rounds of car sickness due to watching a Scottish movie (which I have yet to finish) while swerving through those desolate streets of Gilroy. I moved into the lonely top floor of the house, meaning two bedrooms, one.half baths, living room, and kitchen all at my disposal, but I live here with a terrible fear of the local bum, which I'm sure there are several, will discover such a gem and move in with me. Despite my fear, this is probably the best pitstop in terms of living situation that I will have in the next year.

In order to keep the longest guessing game ever going (aka learning Spanish), I now click the español link on PostSecret every Sunday, making every bit just taunting because I can only make out two out of three words, but all sex related secrets are out the window (since my vocabulary is only pertains to furniture, relatives, and foods), and end up piecing together what I think the secret would be.
To further rub in my year abroad, traveling to every colored regions of those Rand McNally maps that hang in grammar school classrooms, I've added a location stamp following every post, which I hope will change as often as I post.

Location: San Francisco, CA

Song Playing: Yes, So On and So On by Thao Nguyen and the Get Down Stay Down

Strike!

The time has come to strike! My postcard collage, that is. Since this whole motif is postcards, I thought it would be appropiate to mourn the destruction of the movie poster-sized collage of postcards (with some sent all the ways from Christina's house in London and Snoopy Rock, Arizona) that Christina and I so diligently assembled at the beginning of fall, down to the complementary thumbtack color. Oh, the memories!

Time to bid farewell to the dorm room that I spent most nights talking about my next year abroad in. The first shipment of miscellaneous things, which filled the entire truck and backseat, went back home with my brother and mom this afternoon. I wouldn't consider myself a hoarder but I did find and pack up my translucent green umbrella cane, two shoeboxes of old letters and postcards, and two burnt lamps as well other nostalgic items, so the title of complusive hoarder-in-training, perhaps.

Anyway, countdown the bigger and most definitely better things:
CHECK Goodbye Sophomore Year at UCLA: -2 days

CHECK Why Hello My Dear, San Francisco: -1 day

Several Plane Hops Until Arriving in Cuzco, Peru: 3 weeks

Squeezing Into My United Airlines Flight to Hong Kong: 9.5 weeks/ 2.5 months

Final Destination in this Grand Study Abroad Year, London: 7 months
(as of 6/11/09, or 11/6/09 as it would be written everywhere else)

Song Playing: First of Gang to Die by Zee Avi