Robyn's Wanderings

Driving to.......Quebec, City

For nine hours. This photo is what I watched for almost nine hours.

Oh, sorry. I should also add that this was during a good patch. Why? Well as you can see…you can see! As luck would have it, almost as soon as we hit Montreal the snow/sleet/hail (ok, not hail but the other two) started pelting us with all of their might.

What does a Bermudian driving in this kind of weather do? Well defer to their Canadian travel buddy of course! One too many close calls with big trucks and I was done.

But I get ahead of myself.

As you may recall from my immigration posting a few days ago, I had left the sanctuary of Bermuda and it’s 70 degree Fahrenheit weather to travel to Toronto for the Christmas to New Years break. Not satisfied with six days in Toronto, my boyfriend and I decided to also fit-in a three day trip to Quebec City.

Why not, right? Wrong. This is the tale of the three day trip that really should not have been and it all started at the rental counter.

Patience is a virtue that I don’t often exhibit, but I calmly waited as the couple in front of the couple in front of us took 40 minutes to organize a car they had already booked. I even waited as the next couple took 20 minutes to organize their car.

But when it came to our turn and the female from the very first couple decided to return to the counter, interrupt our conversation and ask something trivial about GPS (if you are too lazy to open a map then you most definitely should not be cutting in front of me), I had, had enough.

“Sorry you were saying we could put two drivers onto the car rental?”

“Uh…” said the embarrassed salesman, “Yes. Sorry mam, I need to finish with these customers first.”

Yeah you do, but “first female” did not seem impressed. Oh well.

Seven hours into the drive and we could see the home stretch until Montreal raised its roadworks and complicated the entire situation. An hour, multiple U turns and the snow started…..oh crap.

Nevertheless, with sore bums and tired eyes we finally find our resting place. It appears to be a cozy, little inn that is close to restaurants and shops.

The only problem? At 9.30 p.m. the only place nearby that would serve us was the grocery store where the lonely workers are sweeping the mud covered floor for the millionth time. No fear, we can picnic.

At 3.30 a.m. I realized that something had been picnicing on my legs! Bed bugs.

Now, I have traveled around the world. I have stayed in hostels in Thailand that cost me $2 a night. I slept in a tent for four nights in Patagonia.

And yet the time that I get attacked by bugs? Well that has to be in Quebec City in a place that cost about $175 a night!

The worst part? The night manager claimed he could not move us to a new room that night! Luckily, the bugs had been satiated and I was too tired after nine hours of driving to stay awake.

In the morning it was a matter of negotiating with the manager and luckily the previous evening was forgotten as we entered the snowland called Quebec City!

Wandering the snowy land!

I could not feel my toes…..but it was beautiful.

We wandered through the Plains of Abraham where the British and French had some of their first clashes in 1759-1760. There are two towers (Martello 1 and 2) which we were told would give us insight into the military clashes.

Both were closed.

Never fear. It was a cool view of the St. Lawrence River that passes-by Quebec City and it was easy enough to slosh through the snow to the Citadel. A key part of the city’s fortifications, we clearly found the wrong entrance to the Citadel, so instead we finished the walkway that continues along the river and expelled us in front the of famous Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac.

Walking along the citadel!

Luckily there was a coffee shop (read: Starbucks) right there so we could jump in and defrost our feet before continuing on. Yes, I had to do it. I had to have my Starbucks, but so did my fingers!

My Frontenac!

Wandering on….well sloshing on, we landed across the street in the Fort Museum. This was going to be a slow trip. The Fort Museum, Robyn?

Yes. Actually it was quite interesting and one of the most hilarious little shows I have seen in a while. Fake smoke exhaled from toy guns, little lights flickered from boats in the middle of battle and the history of Britain’s win over New France…but don’t worry they were such ardent culturalists that they kept the French.

Anyway, enough of the history lesson. Now it was time for lunch.

Lunch!

We found a pub and a Texan couple to keep us company as we defrosted and set-out again onto the streets of Quebec City.

After stuffing ourselves it was time to find a different Quebec….bye, bye the unwarm welcome and on to……Well you’ll have to come back to see what we found (I promise it gets better).

Living near the CN Tower in Toronto

What do you know about your fellow traveler? Well for most of us we have been following our weekly blogger Nicola Arnold so we know a bit. But you others?

Well here you go. Her very own, “About Me” page. Where has she been? You just have to read and find out:

Last weekend, I met up with some university friends for dinner in downtown Toronto. That’s the great thing about being based in Toronto, now, – having attended a university one hour west of here, a lot of former school friends and housemates live in the GTA (Greater Toronto Area).

We work, study or live in/near the city, so it’s great to catch up on news & relive the good old days! One of the girls was my roommate from our first year of school. According to her, when I moved in to our dorm room I asked her which countries she had been to, to which she awkwardly replied, “Well, I haven’t travelled much… but I’ve been to Florida!”

Starting university, my travel experience was a little bit different (although I had been to Florida too!). I was fresh off a European travel whirlwind from my Rotary Youth Exchange year in France, where I had spent 10 months exploring not only northeastern France but also Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg which were all bordering the region of France where I was: Lorraine.

Say hello to Köln (Cologne), Germany

The “where have you travelled” question popped up again recently in my Toronto wanderings. I found myself talking to a representative at the Adventure Travel Company in downtown, where I was looking into several products they offer.

At his desk, the guy had an “About Me” page relating to his travels. It was a neat way to learn more about him, where he had travelled and where he hoped to go next!

So, I decided to mirror the “About Me” with my own travel experiences for this week’s post!

I’ve seen a lot so far, luckily… but there is so much more to conquer in the world.

Here it goes:

Title: Adventurer/Wanderer

Location: Toronto

Country count: 27 Countries visited: USA, Canada, Bermuda, England, Wales, Scotland, Sweden, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Spain, Italy, Greece, Austria, Switzerland, The Netherlands, Vatican City, Monaco, Croatia, Czech Republic, Hungary, Netherlands, Zimbabwe, South Africa, India, Japan

Favourite country: hmmm… France. 

Next trip in my dreams? The Maldives. Realistically? New York City

The Maldives.The Maldives in my dreams... one day!

I don’t travel without… a Swiss Army knife, a spork, a water bottle and toilet paper (hey, you never know).

I travel because… Bermuda is a rock in the ocean, there is so much more to explore in the world!

My favourite travel moments are… the spontaneous adventures with travel buddies, especially when the unexpected happens and you have much to laugh about.

Beware of dodgy people along your journeys (like her?! Nicola...for anyone who has not followed her posts!)

As an aside: If you find yourselves in the Canadian cities of Calgary, Edmonton, Halifax, Ottawa, Toronto, Vancouver or Victoria… hunt down an Adventure Travel Company for more interesting travels, tours, and adventures!

The ATC offers many tours and excursions that are a great way to see the world. With slogans like “Epic Destinations. Epic Activities. Epic Hosts” and “It’s your life. It’s your adventure. What are you waiting for?” they seem to be experts in their field.]

In the words of Julius Caesar: Veni, Vidi, Vici!

Antwerp's Stadhuis (town hall)

Ships forced to pay a giant’s fee?

That giant’s hand being chopped and thrown into the river Scheldt?

Gruesome? A kid’s tale?

Both and Rock Fever’s destination this week: Antwerp, Belgium and visit my photo gallery here.

According to the city’s legend, a giant called Antigonus used to exact tolls from all ships passing the city along the Scheldt river. Tired of this toll, a Silvius Brabo tore-off Antigonus’ hand and threw it into the river and thereby naming the city “hand-throw” or Antwerp.

There is now a statue to Brabo in the centre of Antwerp and, though the giant may be of legend, Antwerp was, in fact, the city that managed to end taxes along the river.

The River Scheldt flows through Antwerp

It was just as tax-less to arrive in Antwerp from the Schipol Airport in Amsterdam. Why was I coming from the Schiphol Airport?

As you may, or may not know, I am traveling through the Netherlands and Belgium for three weeks and after finishing one week divided between Haarlem and the Hague it was time to visit Belgium (don’t worry I wouldn’t dream of leaving without visit Amsterdam!) My travel buddy was arriving from Bermuda, so we met at Schiphol where we could jump on a train to Belgium. Easy.

Only have a week to travel? Enjoy speaking Dutch before crossing the border for all the chocolate and beer you can handle. What more can you ask for?

So why Antwerp? I had been to Brussels before. I wasn’t impressed. Logistically, Antwerp, which is Belgium’s “second” city and the de facto capital of Belgium’s Flemish North, was also 50 km north of Brussels i.e. closer to Schiphol.

Two hours by train from Amsterdam and sitting on a river and prime trade spot, Antwerp had attracted many of the well-known trading families such as the Habsburgs, in the 15th Century. Antwerp, which was a protestant city, also survived the onslaught of Catholic Philip II, who inherited Spain and the Low Countries, the rebuilding of the port by Napoleon and WWII where both sides bombed the city.

Now, the city is dripping in diamonds and decorated by the innovative fashion designers that inhabit the varied old and new houses. I’m not a fashionista nor do I care much for diamonds, but I had also heard it was a gritty and impressive city so I needed to check it out.

Antwerp's neo-Baroque train station

Still not buying my reasons for Rock Fever’s destination this week? Well I can give you another ten! And I will start with Reason one: the Antwerp City Card, purchased from the tourist office (though it can be purchased online), cost us about €31 and gave us free access to museums, churches and great discounts to various attractions (including the Zoo)! What could be better?

How about a discount on chocolate? Oh, yes the card does that too from various stores. Before I could consider indulging in the sweet that Belgians go through by the kilos every year, however, I have to give you reason two: a visit to the gothic Cathedral of our Lady (or Onze Lieve Vrouwekathedraal). The Cathedral, the spires of which can been seen from most places in Antwerp, was also right next to the tourist office in the centre. Inside, the seven-aisled nave offers enough room to four paintings by Antwerp’s homeboy, Pieter Paul Rubens, so religious or not, the Cathedral offers a beautiful viewing.

Reason three: Antwerp’s Grote Markt, which has the Brabo Fountain, a pile of roughly sculpted rocks and surmounted by a bronze Silvius Brabo.  Remember him from the intro? The Grote Markt is also home to the Stadhuis or city hall, which offers a counterpart to the Cathedral opposite.

Rubens hanging inside Antwerp's Cathedral

Around the Grote Markt are also the restored Guild houses with sixteenth century reliefs with finely cast, gilded figures and reason three: cafes after cafes, where you can sit and enjoy an overprice coffee while watching the crowds and carriages carrying fellow tourists. The view is worth the extra Euros.

From the Grote Markt it is time for reason four and the journalist in me to visit the Museum Plantin-Moretus. This is the mansion of the printer Christopher Plantin, who rose to fame during the 1500’s when he was awarded the printing missals for the entire Spanish Empire by King Philip II. The mansion also includes some of the oldest printing presses and the famous 36-line bible of Johannes Gutenberg, the inventor of the moveable type printing. I’m a print geek.

Old Printing Presses

Of course Antwerp is more than old buildings and printings, which is reason five and the four-day Bolleke de Konnick Beer Festival! This festival held outside in front of the Royal Fine Art museum honours Belgium’s well-known beer, while also offering cuisines from around the world to soak it up. The festival is an annual event in August that brings city dwellers out for one last, summer party!

After indulging in corn and not beer at the festival, (being a celiac in Belgium is not easy) it was time to find some food. Luckily, Antwerp is nothing if it’s not reason six and filled with lovely restaurants, cafes and bars (even for celiacs).

Of course you could take your pick in Groenplaats, the open square that is behind the Cathedral and used to be the municipal graveyard (though hopefully all the bodies have been removed), but I found the history slightly off-putting.

Luckily reason seven is the twisting corridors of Antwerp’s tiny streets stretching from the Groenplaats to the river Schedlt that are filled with everything from expensive cafes to homey restaurants filled with Belgian specialties including beef cooked in beer and veg with mashed potatoes.

Entrance to Antwerp's Zoo

Reason eight to visit this lovely town, is there is not enough time to visit everything! There is so much to do that the three days I spent in Antwerp were barely enough time to visit the Zoo (so large and filled with everything from gorillas to elephants, I almost forgot I was in a city) to the Meir (a pedestrian street filled with shops) to Rubens’ house (actually successful during his living years, Ruben had a beautiful house/studio in the centre of Antwerp), this city is spilling-over with things to do.

Which brings me to reason nine and the innovative edge of the city. It starts with the designers everywhere to the recently built, the Museum aan de Stroom (MAS). A modern, red-brick building with a facade that is interwoven with clear waved walls throughout to offer a stunning view of Antwerp, it also offers a historical tour of the city. The panoramic view of Antwerp from the top of the MAS, however, was the best part of the entire visit.

MAS

Finally, Antwerp is fantastic because it does not have tourists! Ok, it does have tourists and a great B&B offering if you want to go, but it is not Disneyland. People actually work and live in this thriving city as is clear by the designer clothing stores, the gourmet restaurants and innovative architecture. The locals are building things for themselves, and not to attract tourists!

After throwing-off the “gritty” title usually afforded Antwerp, it was time to head to somewhere that does, unfortunately offer the tourist everything they want: Bruges. Enjoy photos on www.robynswanderings.com and until next week I say: Tot ziens.

What?!

It’s Friday and it has been a while since we’ve had a photo of the day so……well why not today? Can’t think of a reason so….what is it?

Good question. The photo of the day comes straight from the Netherlands where I recently spent about three weeks trying to eat as much chocolate sprinkles for breakfast as I could and as much cheese for lunch as I could. Mission accomplished.

I also discovered why the Dutch are not all 500 pounds on a diet that starts with chocolate for breakfast: biking. Yes it’s cliche and everyone knows about the bikes in Amsterdam, but have you seen the way they leave their bikes?

Well, that brings us to the photo of the day: a bike rack. Have you ever seen one like this before? Me neither, which is why I had to take a pic! These weird contraptions hold the bike’s wheels and help keep down the chaos that these bicycles could create in a country where 86% of the population owns one!

Want some crazier numbers? Well there are about 16 million bicycles in Holland and 1.3 million new ones are sold each year. That is more bicycles than inhabitants!

No wonder I got dirty looks for walking everywhere. Common pedestrian!

The photo of Nicola's dad moments before it all began

There are a few things that seem odd when traveling, but how about a man who likes to travel in a kilt? Our Wanderer, Nicola, has done it for years: traveled with a man in a kilt! She had to; he’s her father!

What’s it about? Tell us Nicola:

[Disclaimer: No plaid or tartan was kilt in the making of this blog]

I should have seen it coming. After all, looking back now, the puzzle pieces all fit together. Little did I know that the signs were there all along…

- My sister and I donned plaid kilts at school from kindergarten up until graduation day (we even wore matching tartan headbands… all the rage in the 90’s). In addition, a kilt-clad bagpiper led the annual Halloween parade at our school

- Locals used to flock to McDonald’s on the US base in Bermuda until it closed in 1995. Oh… wait… scratch that, McDonald’s isn’t Scottish is it? [I’m just teasing! On a serious note, brothers Richard & Maurice McDonald of the famous franchise were Irish-Americans]

- The first fashion show that I ever attended, in France of all places, was tartan-themed. Truly exquisite!

- Harry Potter fans, like myself, all know JK Rowling first jotted down ideas at the Elephant House in Edinburgh in the late 90’s (while exploring Edinburgh in 2009, my sister and I visited this café where HP was once just a scribble on a napkin)

- My favourite actor is Scotsman Ewan McGregor, who also penned two of my favourite travel books. But then again, maybe that circles back to him being my favourite actor. Hmm… it’s debatable.

- My roommate & friend from my semester in Paris was a McGarry, hailing from a Scottish family in Fergus, a town in Ontario of Scottish heritage. Fergus actually hosts the largest annual Scottish Festival and Highland Games outside of Scotland [I had the pleasure of attending the festival last weekend with the McGarry clan, where we got our fill of highland dancing, piping, the caber toss and of course kilts, kilts and more kilts]

From Paris to the Scottish Festival in Fergus, Christine and I wear our tartan with pride!

Okay, enough foreshadowing – let’s get straight to the facts. My name is Nicola Arnold and my father wears a kilt. There. I said it.

It’s been happening for just over two years now, triggered by a family wedding in Australia, where other men were also affected. As I mentioned above, the kilt may run in our family. While I was not present when my father’s symptoms started, family friends had sent me photos of the first outburst at the airport in Bermuda.

Said photo of the first incident…

Slowly, I began to learn more about what to expect of a father with a kilt. While it was shocking at first, we have learned to deal with the staring, the laughter and the plain curiosity of others. It’s only natural, after all. You get used to the attention, especially when travelling, as the whole paraphernalia is rather conspicuous. After all, airport security is most curious about, well, everything weird, wacky and wonderful.

You think it’s rough when security asks you to take off your scarf, boots and watch? Try wearing a formal kilt outfit! You may have to strip off any/all of the following: your kilt hose (woollen socks), your garter flashes (RELAX! They are sock ribbons), your ghillie brogues(Scottish shoes), your sporran (pouch), your kilt pin, your jacket & vest, your kilt belt & buckle, and your sgian-dubh (kilt knife, though for obvious reasons you may not be travelling with one).

After having borrowed a kilt for several functions, my dad jumped into the deep end. Last summer, my family traipsed to Paisley, Scotland (just west of Glasgow) for our complete “dad is buying a kilt” experience. Indeed, Houston Kiltmakers did not disappoint us.

Which sporran strikes your fancy?

As you can imagine, the kilt spawns plenty of questions. Some are stereotypical… some are hilarious… some are bold… some evoke deep thought… and some are downright bizarre. Regardless of the type of wonder & awe exhibited, one thing is certain – the kilt exudes happiness :)

Top 10 questions, comments & concerns:

1. Are you a true Scotsman/What do you wear underneath the kilt? [Most popular by far!]

2. Do you play the bagpipes/Are you in a pipe band?

3. May I have a photo taken with you? [Or, there are the less courageous admirers who, be it with smartphones or bite-size digital cameras, take more clandestine photos]

4. What clan is your tartan? [Dad wears Mackenzie Ancient tartan, FYI]

5. What is the special occasion?

6. What do you do when the wind blows/Are your legs cold?

7. I love a man in a kilt!

8. Are you from Scotland?

9. My niece/great-grandfather/uncle/friend’s dog… is/was Scottish!

10. Comments on smartness, regality, stunning beauty of the wearer [For a man who has dressed up as Mrs. Claus for past Christmas parties, and almost upstaged me at my university graduation, the phrase “dress to impress” has not been overlooked!]

Plus the understated (yet much-noticed) non-verbal affirmations: whistles, thumbs-up signs, laughs and chuckles, openly gawking children, teenage monosyllabic grunts, or some form of acknowledgment or look of approval from other men.

My hands-down favourite moment? While waiting for a train in the Toronto subway, an elderly lady on the platform across from us, Scottish flag hanging from her wheelchair, yells out loud to my dad, “I like yer kilt!”… AWESOME!

Let’s wind down with a pint, or some Scottish whiskey, at the Twisted Kilt!

I shall sign-off with a famous quote, with a twist: “What lies behind the kilt and what lies ahead of the kilt are tiny matters compared to what lies underneath the kilt.”

A scorpion on her shorts in Mexico, 2009. the scorpion is actually quite small, maybe an inch long.

Veterans vs. new travelers? Who is more ready? Who is more nervous? Who will come out on top? Who knows?

Well for one our weekly wanderer Adrienne Smatt would know! She’s been on the volunteer trips with Bermuda Overseas Missions and building homes all over the world six times!

Tomorrow she leaves again on the next mission and what is she thinking? Well……..

We’ve had our last meeting, and for the most part, I think we’re all packed. We leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn – role call at the airport is for 6am. Man am I NOT looking forward to that. But what I really want to talk about are the sentiments floating around the group at this point in time.

For me, the veteran, I’m anxious to get going. I’ve been put in charge of keeping track of about 10 travelers, and in charge of a build site. This is a great honor and responsibility. Having said that I’m at the point where I just want to get there. I’ve done this sort of traveling before, in every sense of it. I’ve traveled with a bunch of other people and I’ve sat on a plane for 17 hours at once to travel to Johannesburg in South Africa. Thankfully, this time we won’t have a 17 hour flight, but even still, the travel part of this trip is looming over my head. It’s my least favorite part of the experience.

She's ready to build another house!

For a Habitat/BOM virgin, I don’t think they are really worrying about the travel part. So that’s what I’d like to talk about in this installment of Out of Bermuda – Into Africa.

But I have a problem…

It’s hard for me to remember what was going on in my head yesterday let alone 6 years ago when I set off on my first trip with BOM. And for that reason, I’ve turned to a couple of my friends who I convinced in recent past and present to come on this charitable adventure with me.

In 2008 we went to Guatemala and I took my friend and roommate at the time, Steph, with me. Her memory is a little shoddy, but I’ve asked her to recall anything she can remember from before the trip anyway.

She was worrying about the giant Guatemalan spiders (of her imagination). She assumed she was going to be staying somewhere akin to Machu Picchu and with the people being so small, she wondered if they had given some of their height to the insects. Knowing her, I suspect they were about 10 feet tall in her head. As a person with low blood pressure and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, she worried about the heat. How hot was it really going to be? And how faint would she be getting due to it?

Stephanie Zuzzolo (again) after taking out her cornrows in guatemala in 2008

She feared the mosquitoes. As an American she was unaccustomed to the high level of “deet” Bermudians can purchase easily, and with that in hand she felt armed and dangerous. Not to mention she felt quite safe given that our anti-Malaria tablets were called “Chloroquine”.

And lastly, I hate to say this, but as a girl of Sicilian descent she was most highly concerned about how she would deal with the inevitable voluminous growth… of her hair. Sidenote: Fortunately for her, she met fellow BOMers who were able to cornrow her hair to perfection so she did not have to deal with it. Awesome.

This year I’ve convinced a friend from my most recent home, Halifax, to come with me. Alex was raised in a small town called Aylesford in Nova Scotia, Africa is definitely a far cry from what she’s used to. With that in mind, as she’s sitting right next to me, I’ve asked her what she’s thinking right…. *now*.

She’s concerned about water. And it’s a legitimate concern. We’ve had our typhoid shots but there are warnings everywhere to stay away from salads and fresh fruits ‘n’ veggies and ice cubes and water we have not seen come from a sealed bottle.

Three yellow ducks in Guatemala

What do we do when we don’t know the language of the people? This is a worry of hers. Also legitimate. No one wants to get there and not be able to communicate with the people we aim to help. No one wants to end up, in the process of attempting to communicate, making a fool of themselves.

She hates flying. Preferred method of travel would definitely be teleportation. Given that isn’t quite possible yet a 12 hour flight is going to be the longest she’s ever been on – and she doesn’t fly well. She’s planning on as much Gravol as is safe to knock herself out and hopefully waking up arriving at our end point magically. Unfortunately I suspect this isn’t going to happen quite like that, so there will be updates next week with how well we all dealt with the transition.

All of that said, the three of us were and are excited to go on our first trip. We know an incredible and possibly life-changing experience lies ahead and we’re pretty pumped to go.

Sayonara, Bermuda and “Mulibwanji!”, Zambia.

Angkor Thom

Today we are traveling to the ancient kingdom of Angkor Wat in Cambodia where our Wanderer, Emily Ross, spent six days here. Doing what? And what should you see? Well let Emily lead the way:

Hola, travellers!

I write from Pakse, Laos – yes, the Cambodian chapter of my journey has regrettably come to an end. After Battambang we moved onto Siem Reap and spent an entire SIX nights there (the longest I think we’ll be anywhere on this trip. We have two rather good reasons for slowing the pace, I promise! Firstly, one of our friends from the Hong Kong exchange is based in Siem Reap volunteering with Rachna Satrei, a local NGO aiming to empower disadvantaged groups in Cambodia (visit http://www.rachnasatrei.webs.com/ for information about the organisation and how to help) and secondly, we’d bought a three day pass to see the incredible ruins of Angkor – where one can find the world’s largest religious monument, the impressive Angkor Wat.

The ruins of Angkor are, as expected, gorgeous – and remarkably well preserved, although unfortunately as we’re travelling during off-peak season (ie rainy season. Very rainy season) one needs to be rather creative with the camera angles in order to avoid the ever present scaffolding and tarpaulins necessary for keeping the ruins so well preserved. In fact, the middle and largest tower of the famous Angkor Wat was rather anticlimactically hidden under a gleaming green tarp, glinting mockingly at you in the sunlight as if to say: ‘Well…you’re here! You HAVE to photograph me, sucker! You can’t NOT take a picture of Angkor Wat, bud. ’

Angkor Wat, be-Tarped

Curse you, Green Tarp. I shall never be avenged, reduced to but a rogue and peasant slave.

Grumble.

Of course, if you go to Angkor Wat you’ve got to watch the sunrise. It’s number one on the Lonely Planet’s Greater Mekong Highlights, although as we noted after the fact they may have slightly romanticised the experience.

‘In the steamy pre-dawn hush we waited, yawning. The glowing orange sun appeared, rising slowly between the graceful stone domes of Angkor Wat – its iconic silhouette mirrored perfectly in the still lake in front of us. With the first soft ray of sun to alight on the water it was as though someone flicked the ‘on’ switch. The quiet filled with a cacophony of buzzing, chirping insects and the day’s throbbing heat was all of a sudden there, where it hadn’t been a moment before.’

Sunrise at Angkor Wat

I suggest a slightly more realistic summary:

The alarm was piercing. Blearily we blinked back our disbelief, our incredulity that we were really willingly getting out of bed at 4 o’clock in the morning. We know how Pyrrhus must have felt. We jumped into the tuk-tuk, shivering (yes, shivering) as we raced through the chilly morning air towards the ruins. We found our way to the lake, and amidst the sound of vendors selling ‘Breakfast, Coffee, Best Price Lady!’, we waited, yawning. A great grey cloud appeared, hovering over the five towers, ominously threatening the day’s afternoon rain. The temple was silhouetted by the few rays of light able to pierce through the cloud – this at least hid The Tarp from view.  The cloud dissipated slightly, we were able to spot speckles of pink in the sky, the silhouette of Angkor Wat reflected in the lake in front of us – but distorted by the skittering of insects, the ripples created when their lives are abruptly ended after being snapped up by…something. You itch a bite. A middle aged Japanese man hits you with his tripod. Repeatedly. Pushing through the crowd of backpackers and tourists, you attempt to get a better angle. The angle is not better. You fight once again through the crowd to reclaim your spot on the waterfront. The sun is higher now, you can’t see it, but can tell by the sweat beads on your brow, suddenly there, where they hadn’t been a moment before. All at once you’re blinded by the glint of The Tarp, now illuminated, ready for the day.

I should write one of these for the Great Wall!

In all seriousness, it WAS worth it. Despite The Tarp, the sweat, the fatigue, the cloud….I still managed to get a good shot and a glimpse at the masochistic lengths we travellers will go to (without question) for ‘the experience.’

Taking a break from the Bamboo train in the Battambang countryside

It’s a little heavy for our wanderer Emily Ross this week, as she leaves Vietnam to visit Cambodia next door. From learning about the after shocks of the Vietnam War to the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge, Cambodia proves to be more than just a backpacking destination.

Luckily, though, the children’s smiles and friendly people help make her trip through this little South East Asian country more pleasurable than it might have been. Here’s Emily’s thoughts:

Happy Monday, bloggers!

I write to you from beautiful, beautiful Cambodia. I’m in Battambang, the second largest city in Cambodia (a surprising fact just learned from Wikipedia…as in my opinion it’s tiny!). Surrounded by thousand year old temples, a beautiful man-made lake and the quirky bamboo train, it’s definitely worth a diversion from the typical Sihanoukville-Phnom Penh-Siem Reap route. I feel like we’ve really been given the opportunity to explore the Cambodian countryside. Make sure you nab a good tuk tuk driver (the only way to get to the sights around Battambang…unless you’re on a bike) – it makes a huge difference in terms of how much you see and learn, and you can make a good buddy in the process!

Smiley school children

What has struck me most about Cambodia is the people. Everywhere we go we feel like celebrities – children literally run to the side of the road to wave and squeal a high pitched ‘Hello!’, old and young alike smile when they see us and seem to smile genuinely…they’re smiling Johnny Barnes type smiles rather than laughing at us. People have been helpful, funny and generous. Which is amazing considering everything they’ve been through.

Khmer Rouge interrogation tactics

I’m ashamed to say I crossed the border of Vietnam and Cambodia knowing very little about the Khmer Rouge and the recent horrors in Cambodian history.  I’d heard of the Khmer Rouge. As in, heard the two words before. I didn’t know what any of it entailed. I believe I wikipedia’d Pol Pot after he was mentioned in a Ricky Gervais stand up routine. And when you read about it, when you visit the chilling Tuol Sleng Genocide Musuem (S-21, t he Tuol Sleng prison near Phnom Penh, formerly a school), when you walk in the Killing Fields…it seems surreal. It was so recent, but it seems like something out of a 1984-esque novel, not reality.

S-21: former school turned Khmer Rouge prison and now a museum

I’ve searched through GCSE to A-Level/IB curricula and there’s just no option to study Cambodia. You can study Vietnam, but I suppose that’s only because the US was involved. I can guarantee that most Westerners have only heard of Cambodia because Angelina Jolie adopted from there. I just find it fascinating that millions of people can die and it not be common knowledge – especially considering it’s very, very modern history.

This isn’t a sermon, I’m guilty of it too. I was standing in front of a memorial stupa filled with over 5,000 skulls, bones and rags and was absolutely shocked at my own ignorance of what had occurred. I had a similar experience at the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City – I knew the basic history of the Vietnam war, but very little about the atrocities committed by the Americans and the after-effects of Agent Orange. Hollywood doesn’t delve too deeply into that aspect of Vietnam – Forrest Gump sure as hell didn’t go anywhere near My Lai.

Just a few things I’ve been thinking about.

Are you an aisle or a window person?

Welcome Saturday and Nicola is onto the blog again. Our wander this week? Well she wants to know what’s the better seat.

Do you grab the aisle? Or is a window so you can see where you’re going? Sure you could take a window and then get stuck when you need the toilet or the aisle and get hit when the stewards come-by with drinks…..so Nicola….tell us what’s best:

You are walking down the jetway, ready to embark on your journey – or perhaps conclude your adventures. Perhaps you are checking out the HSBC ads on the walls, or picking up a newspaper to browse through during your flight. Did you have the option to carefully choose your seat, or did the airline arbitrarily pick where you will park yourself for the next few hours? Depending on the type & size of your aircraft, of course, there are two classic seat choices: window or aisle.

What kind of airplane person are you – window or aisle? That’s like asking ‘tea or coffee?’… it really depends on personal tastes.

Here’s my point of view Re: Window & Aisle.

Watch the sunrise or sunset while daydreaming of where you are coming from, or where you are going

Invent ways to hop over family, friends or strangers (without disturbing their slumber) in order to move about the cabin

Narrate what you see outside the window for those less fortunate… ie. clouds, cities, mountains or ocean

Doze easily against the side wall of the airplane, not awkwardly leaning on the person next to you

Obtain a drink from the cabin crew, attempting not to spill it while settling back in your seat

Worry about how to escape from your seat in case your neighbour falls asleep

… or…

Looking over Bolivia.......maybe a window is better?

Assume the role of gatekeeper for the passengers-turned-prisoners you have now blocked from the aisle

Increase your leg space by stretching out your legs, but cursing the trolley cart if it scrapes your shoulder or knee along its way

Spearhead the “toilet movement”, where everyone in your row will seize the opportunity to get up while you’re up and about

Lean uncomfortably on or near your neighbour… and snap your head up each time you re-awaken from your slumber

Express a desire to switch seats with the window person upon landing

We’re not even going to mention the dreaded middle seat… being stuck in that ‘no man’s land’ brings back the dramatic exclamation of “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha” from the Brady Bunch. Middle child is a tough role to play!