Surface tension

Day 152 of the project, 
Christchurch, NZ

"Why are you going to Singapore?" asked my Thai interviewer, with a touch of disdain in his voice. It was a common question, asked by many who dismiss it as a superficial shopping mall in the heart of rambunctious, gritty Southeast Asia. Singapore lacks fiscal accessibility and offers no real claim to fame to justify the expense. In the mind of most backpackers, it is no more than a stopover.

Yet my curiosity was piqued by this tiny nation and I purposefully added it to my itinerary. Originally a British colony that gained independence in 1965, Singapore is a microcosm of Asia. Ethnic Chinese are the majority, followed by Malay, Indian, Indonesian and Japanese. Not to mention the pinches of Thai, Cambodian and white expats in various corners. To borrow from Americana, it is a "salad bowl" of diversity.

Ghosts of the past

Day 138 of the project, 
Krabi, Thailand

When someone brings up Cambodia, the first image that comes to mind is of the Angkor ruins. And rightfully so, as the sites in Angkor National Park are some of the most stunning in the ancient world. Angkor Wat is the most famous, but each site is distinct. My personal favorite was Banteay Srey. Translated to the Citadel of Women, the intricate carvings and pinkish-brown sandstone are absolutely sublime in the late afternoon sunlight.

However, Cambodia's more recent history is darker; its second claim to fame is genocide. Pol Pot came to power in 1975 with the aim of creating a perfect agrarian society. The Khmer Rouge drove everyone into extreme farming labor. Any intellectual--defined as anything from being a professional to wearing glasses--or opponent was arrested, tortured and killed. His regime was eventually pushed out in 1979 after war with the newly established Socialist Republic of Vietnam. It is worth mentioning the US government (along with the UN) recognized and supported the Khmer Rouge because of its opposition to the Vietnamese.

This darkness is clear in present-day Cambodia. There are over 300 sites of torture or mass graves in the country. In Phnom Penh, the most famous is known as the killing fields. No detail is left out in the audio guide. At the end, a memorial with glass walls reveals the bones of 8,000 people executed on site. The collection grows each year after the annual floods unearth new fragments. The experience is graphic, nauseating, enraging and heart-breaking. It must be seen and heard, though comprehension is virtually impossible.

Cheers to the solo ladies

Day 100 of the project, 
somewhere outside Port Elizabeth, South Africa

There can be many challenges in being a single female traveler. Security and acceptance of your solo status are obvious. Other issues are less obvious--when is the last time you had to figure out the word "tampon" in Hungarian? Or tried to explain the necessity of a 15-euro pedicure to a bewildered male bunk mate?

In spite of the nuisances, being a solo female traveler strengthens you beyond measure and opens your heart in a way you never thought possible. And perhaps the best reflection of that openness can be found in the relationships with other women.

Global is the new local

Day 88 of the project,
Tesvikiye neighborhood of Istanbul, Turkey

In the digital age of constant global connectivity, most travelers (myself included) are seeking the "authentic" cultural experience. We want the full sensory overload: the sights (the architecture, shops and museums); the tastes (spicy, sweet, salty, savory, boozy); the heart and soul (language, religion and customs). We want this to be untainted with any of the familiarity of home. And above all, we want to engage with the locals.

In this cosmopolitan place where Europe meets Asia, secular meets religious and old meets new, I expected to easily escape the tourist traps in Istanbul. That is not to say I didn't enjoy the tourist circuit. I spent hours roaming the Istanbul Modern and Pera Museum and staring at the gorgeous tiles and calligraphy inside the mosques. I tried my hand at negotiations inside the bazaars. My stomach certainly engaged with the local cuisine. And my caffeine levels are at an all time high from the copious consumption of Turkish coffee and tea.

Native tongue

Day 78 of the project, 
on the ferry to Dubrovnik, Croatia

An American, an Englishman and an Australian sit in a hostel bar in Vienna, steins of beer in hand. Conversation ranges from travel to music to politics. Especially politics. There is nothing more entertaining than testing an American on his or her knowledge of world affairs. Gentle ribbing aside, their native language allowed the three drinkers to easily exchange and debate ideas well into the early morning hours.

Language is also a reflection of a person's worldview. As with most native English speakers, I enjoy orderly queues, on-time departures, formal education and relative privilege within the globalized 21st century world. Yet my American perspective is often as clear as my accent. It is as simple as wearing pants (not trousers), taking the elevator (not the lift), attending college (not uni or university) and having friends (not mates). It is as complex as not having a current attachment to monarchy or officially sharing a currency with other independent nations.

Sound of music

Day 68 of the project,
on the train somewhere between Budapest and Ljubljana

Vienna, or Wien, as it is actually called in German, brings many superlatives to a traveler's lips. Gorgeous Baroque and Rococo architecture that has been immaculately maintained. Stunning museums that showcase incredible volumes of significant artwork. Delicious foods (hello Wiener schnitzel and sacher tort) in adorable cafes. Beer and wine galore. Opera and choirs in every theater.

However, for this traveler, my memory of Austria is anchored in music. I am not a classical music connoisseur, but there is something magical about the symphony. My timing in Vienna could not have been better; the annual classical music festival at the Grafenegg was coming to a close. The finale was definitely a special performance. Not only was the world-renowned Vienna philharmonic orchestra performing, but the guest conductor was the very famous Venezuelan Gustav Dudamel (on loan from the Los Angeles philharmonic). And the Grafenegg itself was an amazing draw--a beautiful castle with a brand new, state-of-the-art outdoor amphitheater about 40 minutes outside of Vienna. I was shocked it was not sold out.

Philharmonic orchestra just before intermission. Photo courtesy of Cody Christopher

Great expectations

Day 59 of the project,
somewhere between Prague and Vienna

To my beautiful San Francisco,

It is me again, your beloved expatriate. On yet another continent, I have met your older brother! Sure, Lisbon is not your official "sibling city" as defined by UNESCO or some other organization. But there are so many similarities. Like you, Lisbon has steep hills with stairs to match and sublime views from various miradoras. The trams and light rail rattle through his streets much like yours. Not to mention a (shorter) version of your Golden Gate Bridge...gleaming in the low light of sunset.

But unlike Valparaiso, my heart was not swayed. Lisbon is like an older, dignified but slightly shabby gentleman with the melancholy of someone who has lost so much. You can hear it in the fado sung in the streets late a night. You can see it in the political graffiti. The streets exude the passion of an empire whose colonial glory days are a distant memory in the harsh limelight of current economic struggles.

#feminismo

Dia 42 del proyecto, 
Madrid, Espana

I noticed the first stencil yesterday. Given the visual depiction of a woman and a priest along with the verbal content, the church wall placement couldn't be more appropriate. This morning, I passed others plastered to the side of a park wall. A guerrilla conversation about a woman's right to choose in Spain.

Volver

Dia 33 del proyecto, 
San Sebastián (Donostia), Espana 

A lot happens in a decade. Especially when ten years constitutes a third of your life. Yet stepping off the plane at Bajaras felt like stepping into a time warp. Some things have changed. Madrid has given its international terminal a much needed facelift and Aerolineas Iberia was more responsible with my luggage. Yet for a moment I was instantly 20 years old again, transported to a time when my vision of the world was reshaped.

For the 30th year project, I was determined to focus on new places. Why would one go back to old ones when there are constantly new destinations to be explored? So I followed the rule. Except when my heart wouldn't let me skip Spain.

The vast majority of American university students do not study abroad. For some, it is a financial limitation; for others, it is simply a lack of interest or does not fit into their degree program. I certainly had the financial limitations, but was unwilling to let money stop me. So off I went with student loans, a gigantic suitcase, limited Spanish capabilities and no experience traveling solo outside the States.

Weekend rituals

Dia 28 del proyecto,
Santiago de Chile

Regardless of geography, certain rituals are regularly practiced among friends....like ladies' night at the discotheques, Saturday morning yoga or a poker tournament. I miss my regular activities with my San Francisco friends, so when I was invited to join a group in their weekly "fuck-a-thon," I didn't hesitate.

Despite the name, this is not an orgy or anything remotely sexual. Every Sunday, a group of friends hailing from around the world arrive at Andres and Stephanie's apartment to watch movies that "fuck with your mind." Think Momento or The Shining or Inception. Typically the group starts in the early afternoon and continues well into the night with various movies. Popcorn, soda and chips are sustenance for the duration. Occasional stops are taken for bathroom breaks and refilling empty glasses. Discussion flows freely after each movie. It is great way to spend a gray afternoon.

Confesion del corazon

Dia 23 del proyecto
Valparaiso, Chile

To my beloved San Francisco,

I have missed you, my beautiful city on the bay. Your hills, fog, Victorian architecture, colorful streets and curious characters. I promised you my heart many years ago and you have faithfully kept it enamored.

My fair city, I have a confession to make. I have fallen in love with another city. It is not the first time my heart has been led astray. Barcelona captured my heart before you, with its hills and the sea. Architectural greats like Gaudi and artists like Miro. Friendly Catalonians who indulged my Spanish. Perhaps I should not be so surprised. These cities with their old, deep souls call out to me as I meander through their narrow streets. Rich stories emerge from a simple tag or worn cobblestones. 

Machu Picchu

Dia 12 del proyecto,
Entre de Cusco y Lima

Halfway up the steep and uneven stone staircase, I switched off my headlamp. The sun was up but still behind the mountain. The gates to the trail opened at 5am and by 4:30am there was a queue of at least 200 hikers. Fortunately our group was one of the first 30 or so people in line and only had a half hour to go before the entrance gates.

After third day, our group of sixteen had been reduced to eight as most people had taken the four-day walk option. The gates to Machu Picchu opened at 6am and the stairs gave us a half hour head start over the buses.

So what would possess a person to climb 1,700 stairs in the black of early morning? Take a look for yourself here. Machu Picchu was everything you could imagine and more. Absolutely breathtaking.

Sube la montana

Dia 12 del proyecto,
Cusco, Peru

The city of Cusco is roughly 3,300 meters above sea level, nestled comfortably in a valley. Albeit a very high valley. Most guide books recommend arriving a day or two early (and consuming copious amounts of coca tea) to acclimatize before trekking. I agree completely; if your trek only stays at 3,300 meters, one or two days is perfect. However, neither the official experts nor this trekker have solutions for dealing with the 1,300-meter (3,900-foot) climb in the first 25 kilometers (15 miles) of the Salkantay trail.

While the classic Inca trail is the most famous, it is one of seven main footpaths that lead into Machu Picchu. The Salkantay trail is one and is named for the mountain which supplied most of the city's water. Quecha lore says that during a bad drought, the ancient Incan king sent his two sons out to find water. The younger brother, named Salkantay, died and became the mountain. His older brother's tears for his death became the glacier peak.

It doesn't seem so tough when I type it. But it humbled this marathon-running San Franciscan.

Dos Limas

Day 7 of the project,
On the road to Cuzco

Like so many cities around the world, Lima is a city divided between the have's and have not's. I spent two days wandering around the wealthy suburbs that line the coast. Beautiful and modern buildings, immaculate parks (complete with tennis courts and football pitches), casinos and shopping malls. Not to mention the amazing food and diverse array of options. It was easy to forget about the reality of most Limenos.

It is in plain view now. The bus is flying along the highway, passing the barrios that teem with shoddy half-constructed apartments, no hint of grass (just garbage and dirt), dirty markets and questionable restaurants. The food might taste good, but it would most certainly upset my delicate first-world stomach.

The stark contrast surfaces many thoughts and feelings. What is poverty? I certainly know how academics and economists define it. But there is a distinction between being poor and suffering.  Obviously the failure to meet basic needs is considered suffering. And the seven-figure incomes of the technorati of Silicon Valley are at the other extreme. Beyond that is a sea of gray area. In the spectrum of privilege, where does one go from being impoverished to poor to middle class to rich to extremely rich? And where are people the happiest?

Lost and found

Day 4 of the project 
Lima, Peru

One of my unspoken fears was that I had lost my Spanish. The lack of formal study and any semblance of verbal practice over the last few years left me with a scary number of blanks and "yo no se"s when walking through San Francisco's Mission district. Chile and Peru are full of English speakers, but South America and Spain are the only places where I can hope to converse in the local language. And hopefully reinvigorate my Americanized brain.

Researchers have compared the brain to a network of roads. The ones that get the heaviest use are like freeways and information flows quickly. The least used are back roads must be navigated slowly and with care. The metaphor makes sense, though I was terrified that my Spanish was going to be like an Arkansas dirt road: pot-hole-riddled and embarrassingly red.

Close encounters

10 days until the project begins

Conspiracy theorists believe first contact happened in the middle of the New Mexico desert. After a night drive across western Kansas, I've come to the conclusion they should consider adding a new set of coordinates to their list. 

This is 30

80 days until the project begins

American culture has a distinct perspective on age. As kids, we cannot wait to grow up, wear great clothes, have older boyfriends and be the masters of our own universe. It is a short, rose-colored ideal, to be sure. As adults, we frantically try to reclaim our youth with miracle creams, younger boyfriends and avoiding the responsibility of managing universes. We seek to recreate that (perceived) better past self...ironically the one that couldn't wait for the future.

Family travel

82 days until the project begins

I came across an article in the New York Times today describing a family's ten month adventure traveling the globe. With careful planning and a strict budget, two parents are giving their children the experience of a lifetime. They are certainly not the first; I've heard of other families who have packed it up and undertaken a collective walkabout. This is the first family of four that I've ever heard of living on budget of $150 USD a day.

Bibliography

Any traveler worth her salt has reference material....for idea generation and practicalities. A few of my favorites.