Day 443: Coming back to America

After one last walk around the Old City of Cartagena in 108 degree weather with what felt like 100% humidity, we were packed and ready to go to the airport. And then, we realized we forgot the water bottle in the hostel refrigerator. Seriously. Andrew insisted we turn around (even though we were halfway there) while I nervously wondered if we were going to miss our flight over a water bottle I've had since college (in other words, it's probably time it got left behind). We didn't miss the flight. We did have to pay nearly double for the taxi. We arrived in Florida safe and sound, made it through passport control with surprising ease, and then our Spirit flight to Chicago was delayed for three hours on top of our four hour layover. It wasn't the most comfortable day of travel home, but let's face it, we've been through much worse. By three in the morning, we were letting ourselves into my friends' house and shortly after that, you would have thought Santa arrived early because when Michelle heard us come in, all I heard was a whispered "YESSSS!" coming from her bedroom. A few minutes later, I was hugging one of my bestest friends for the first time in a year and a half before crawling in what was most likely the most comfortable bed we've slept in... in a year and a half.

We're back!

Day 432: Medellin to Santa Marta

Despite our love of 12 hour+ bus rides (kidding), we decided to fly from Medellin to Santa Marta instead. We weren’t totally sure if it was going to be smooth sailing, as we heard multiple stories of Viva Colombia! Airlines often canceling and delaying flights. 

There was a lot of confusion within the airport itself, but we managed to land safely only about an hour later in Santa Marta. Much more convenient than a day (and night) on another bus.

Day 161: Kampala

We arrived into Addis Ababa dead tired. The airport was so packed, anyone who was standing was practically circling around the occupied lounge chairs waiting for someone to depart so they could pounce and lay down until their boarding time. Luckily we scored two lounge chairs and were able to sleep for an hour or so before our next flight.

We arrived into Entebbe around one in the afternoon. It was gorgeous. After being wrapped up in a scarf and fleece for the past two weeks in Morocco, I immediately peeled off layers and dug out my flip-flops from the depths of my backpack. We grabbed a taxi and headed towards Kampala.

Entebbe is something of a UN hub for Africa, therefore, it didn’t feel like we were in Uganda at all. The first twenty minutes of the drive reminded me of Kentucky in the summer, green grass, manicured lawns, brick walls between western style buildings. On the outskirts of Entebbe, things began to change.

We were in Uganda.

Buildings weren’t nearly as ‘western’ looking. If they were made of solid brick or concrete, they were painted over like a giant billboard advertising everything from soap to phone carriers to Mountain Dew. People were everywhere. Walking to the markets with baskets on top of their heads. Sleeping on motorbikes. Dressed in immaculate uniforms walking home from school. Sometimes a child would see us and recognize how different we looked and would wave enthusiastically.

We arrived at Red Chili (our hostel/campgrounds du jour) in the afternoon and attempted to use the wifi before giving up and having dinner and climbing into bed around 8 o’clock.

Day 144: a stopover in Belgium

We landed in Liege, Belgium at five in the morning. The bus to Brussels didn’t come until seven thirty. The glass building we had to wait in for two and a half hours was cold. drafty. unpleasant. Andrew walked around to find a warmer spot. We moved our bags and sleepy selves to an elevator bank in the middle of the lobby that opened up in front of what looked like a banquet room. Higher, and surrounded by another layer of glass, it was warmer. I laid down on the floor using one of the backpacks as a pillow. And then the banquet lady came. I actually don’t know who she is, but she was not happy to see us. She told us (en Francais) that we had to move. I asked why. I told her we were cold, that there was no one around, and assured her it would not be a problem for us to stay there (in what I thought was Francais). I don’t think she had any coffee yet, because she didn’t take my response well. She threatened security on us. I think I responded that there was no security in the building… like there weren’t any other people in the building either. Because, I’m sure, there really wasn’t. There was me. Andrew. one other girl from our flight. and this crazy lady.

“‘Whey’ is ‘why’ in French as well?” Andrew asked as we sat there for a few minutes, not wanting to give in so quickly.

“Oh. no. I guess I was also speaking Korean to her…” I responded. Andrew laughed.  (I totally forgot until later when our new friends reminded me that ‘Whey’ is the slang version of ‘Yes’ sooo maybe she was just angry I was being so informal with her, when in fact, I was just speaking Korean to her.)

We moved back down to the drafty part of the lobby. Nobody showed up to the banquet room before we left. I was really hoping we would run into the banquet lady before we left so I could say “Ohhh Regard tous les persons!” which is the only French I could think of saying after a night of no sleep and eight years of no practice. (I know, I know, it’s probably wrong…)

We took a bus to Brussels. Got a waffle. Then a train. Got a waffle. Then another bus to the airport. Got some french fries. We tried to sleep. Checked into our flight. Went through Passport Control. Got grief about how full my passport has become. Slept at our gate. Found out our flight was delayed. For four hours. Ate some terrible airport food. Boarded our flight. Arrived to a rainy Casablanca. Paid too much for a taxi into the city. Arrived to our couch surfer hosts’ apartment close to midnight and crashed.

Day 143: Getting out of Israel

Our flight wasn’t until midnight. So we bummed around Tel Aviv, did some laundry, was put to work by Anat, who was trying to wrap up a film project, went back to our favorite coffee shop, and shot lots of street art for today’s video. Because, let’s face it, street art is way more fun than laundry.

All in all, our day was rather uneventful… until we got to the airport. I balked a little bit at Anat’s suggestion to get to the airport three hours ahead of time. When we got there, and had to stand in the security line for questioning, I understood her time estimate.

Before you check in for your flight, before you put your bags through security, before you go through the usual airport security and passport control, you have to stand in a long line to take your turn being individually questioned by Israeli airport security.

“I swear it’s because they don’t want Jews to leave the country” a young American ‘Birthright’ girl told us as she stood in front of us in line. We chuckled and told her of the poor Australian we met entering Israel from Jordan who got held up at immigration because “he looked suspicious, like he was probably smuggling something back into the country…” She sighed. We all waited.

When it was our turn, we handed over our passports and as predicted, Andrew was asked for other forms of identification (his passport is nine years old, and he’s about 100 pounds lighter than he was back then). He handed it over. And then it got interesting:

Security: How do you know each other?
Andrew: She’s my girlfriend.
Security: Where is your home?
Andrew: (laughing) We don’t have one.
(I could have kicked him)
Security: You don’t have a home?
Andrew: No. We’ve been traveling for five months.
Security: And… sorry for the personal question, but how did you two meet?
me: Through a friend in Korea.
Security: Korea?
me: Yes, we were teaching there.
Security: You both were in Korea and that’s where you met?
Andrew: Yes.
Security: How long were you in Korea?
me: five years.
Andrew: eight years.
Security: And how long have you been dating?
me: umm… well, it’s almost March, I guess, so almost three years?
Andrew: Yea, a little over two and a half…
Security: (hesitating) And you’re traveling now?
Andrew: Yes.
Security: You were in Jordan?
me: Yes
Security: Where did you stay?
me: Hmm where did we stay? Oh right, Amman and Petra.
Security: Where did you get your necklace? (with my name in Arabic on it)
me: A friend gave it to me.
Security: Who?
me: My friend Erin…
Security: Where is Erin?
me: Well, she was in Egypt and now she’s in America.
Security: What does your friend do?
me: She was teaching in Egypt.
Security: But now she’s not in Egypt?
me: No, like I said, she’s in America.
Security: (hands back our passports) Ok, Thank you.

“Security” consisted of two girls that were around our age… and they would pause in between questioning trying to think of more things to ask or how they could dissect your answer to trip you up. Andrew and I were amused by the whole thing. This probably didn’t help matters. I actually had a hard time trying to keep a straight face throughout the interrogation. I mean, all they had to do was look in our passports to see the amount of visas from our years in Korea, and look at the stamps since we’ve left. And when she spotted my necklace? It took everything to not respond sarcastically “Erin, Do you know her?”

Bananas.

After our fifteen minutes of questioning, it was somewhat smooth sailing. That is, until the 14 year old sitting behind us on our red-eye to Belgium started kicking our seats. plural. At three in the morning, when you’re trying to fall asleep on a plane and you’re being constantly woken up by the little you-know-what behind you… You resort to the stare down. And then you motion for him to stop, only it doesn’t. And his parents do nothing. And when you land, and passport control flirts with you and then makes the family with the you-know-what 14 year old stand aside… You bite your tongue instead of flailing your arms around on the other side of the glass divider shouting “KARMA!” to the entire family waiting for entrance into the country.

Day 2: Kuala Lumpur in a day

Anwar, our couchsurfing host dropped us off near the train station on his way to work. In Korea, even during rush hour, one would still be able to squeeze onto a subway car. In Malaysia, one waits as four or five trains pass through until there is enough room to squeeze on. Granted, from my observations, it seemed as though Malaysians mind personal space a little more than Koreans. Passengers were still able to breathe on the train and few pushed others further into the train so they could fit as well. Not in a rush (not going to work) I enjoyed people watching and quickly became obsessed with all of the beautiful scarves. (I have to admit, the modesty was a bit refreshing after 5 years of short skirts in Seoul!)

I was also pleased to see the “coach for ladies only.” My travel partner was less than impressed when one pulled up in front of us and had to run down the platform to board a car for ladies AND men.

Our first destination was the Batu Caves just outside of Kuala Lumpur. Not entirely sure what to expect, other than a lot of monkeys, we were pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t overrun with tourists and vendors vying for attention and wallets. The closer we got to the entrance, we started hearing loud ‘thwacks’ followed by cheers. A group of Chinese tourists were taking turns hurling coconuts into a stone basin. A nearby flower vendor told us it was for prayer. We assumed when the coconut split, the prayer was answered. This coconut splitting action took place under the gaze of the towering Hindu diety, Murugan. At 140 feet tall, it’s the tallest statue of Murugan in the world.

The trek to the top where the caves were wasn’t the easiest, but the monkeys along the way shaking light poles and dropping coconuts on tourists made it an entertaining climb. If you’ve been to Bali, you might be familiar with the infamous monkey forest there. Having a not so pleasant experience when I visited a few years ago, I’m a little wary around monkeys, especially those overly familiar with tourists. These monkeys might have been familiar with tourists, but they went about their business, and were not nearly as aggressive as those in Bali.

At the top, there are a few cave temples. In the far back cave, a Hindu priest (I’m assuming) prayed over passersby, marking colored ash on foreheads and tying strings around wrists for luck. It seemed a bit like a “pay to pray” tourist attraction to me, when I asked some other tourists, they said you just had to give a donation. Which is fair. However, my Hindu prayer felt a little tainted when the Hindu priest so obviously motioned to the donation tray. Quite frankly, it made me want to hang onto my donation after that…

After the Batu Caves, we made our way back into the center of Kuala Lumpur to see Little India. Again, I was fascinated by the amount of headscarves, and the many shops selling them. Samosas were sold on the street for cheap. Men stood at flower carts making the most beautiful ropes of flowers and just as advertised, motorbikes zipped in and out and around other cars, pedestrians, and onto sidewalks for deliveries.

Not far from the Botanical Garden area, we settled on the Butterfly Garden. I was a little excited, I thought I would walk in and be surrounded by butterflies, covered even if I stood still enough. Unfortunately, this was not the case. There were a few butterflies, yes, but not enough to be labeled “Butterfly Garden” and it was pricey! Ok, maybe if there were more butterflies, I wouldn’t think so, but there weren’t. If you really love botanical gardens, then have a look, if you’re into butterflies, maybe it’s best not to get your hopes up for this attraction.

Ready for a respite, Andrew and I headed to Petronas Towers in search of a coffee shop and some free wi-fi. (Yo CoffeeBean, why do you have free wifi in KL, but not in Seoul? Please, take note.) Our timing was impecable, we went in while it was still bright and came out right around dusk so we got to see Petronas in both settings. Petronas by day is wow. But, Petronas by night is WOW! and I highly recommend it. Especially at dusk. We didn’t go to the top because it was smoggy and a little bit out of our budget. We decided we’ll instead splurge on the Burj Khalifa instead.

We met back up with Anwar for a satay dinner. Which was yum. I couldn’t decide if I liked the chicken or beef more, both, and the noodles Anwar insisted we try were delicious. After an hour or so of chatting about dating and marriage in Malaysia vs. Korea vs. America, he drove us to the train station to catch a ride back to the airport.

Our flight to Hanoi was at 6AM. Needing to be at the airport by 4AM, we decided to just camp out at the airport instead of waking up around 3AM in the city to pay $40.00 for a taxi to the airport. When we made this plan, we didn’t count on the airport closing between 1AM and 3AM, forcing us out on the sidewalk outside. We made friends with a Belgian physicist and chatted with him for a couple hours until we were allowed back in the airport where we grabbed a couple hours of sleep before our flight took off.

Lesson #1 learned from traveling around the world: Just because it all fits in your 52 liter backpack, doesn’t mean you need to take it. I’m already tired of the ordeal that is me getting in and out of my bag…