The serenity of Halong Bay

Without a doubt, Halong Bay was the raddest thing I saw while in Vietnam. It's composed of 1,969 limestone islands, jutting spectacularly out of the water as a result of, oh.....500 million years of transformation.

Naturally, after seeing so many beautiful places around the world, I'm desensitized. It takes a lot to WOW me...... Well, Halong Bay WOW'ed me.

I chose a 3 day/2 night package for my tour through the breathtaking archipelago. I spent the first night on the boat, and the second in a cute bungalow on an awe-inspiring beach.

my cabin on the boat

view from the bungalow

There were 15 other tourists on the boat. At night we gathered together to eat and share stories as the boat docked in the middle of the bay.

Wouldn't you know, it rained on and off the second day, but it created a mystical misty look as we floated along inside the safety of the boat.

A storms a brewin'

There were quite a few single travelers on this tour. I buddied up with Carolynn from New Zealand, because Kiwis rock.

Carolynn and I, hiking around the island

We cruised through the archipelagos in a boat named the "Imperial Junk". Don't let the name fool you, it was a pretty snazzy boat. We made short pit stops at small islands along the way, where we explored a cave, went kayaking, and hiked amongst 30 crazy monkeys. They were such little demons, as most monkeys are. One scared me half to death when he jumped onto a tree branch just above my head. He was just showing off, but the hairy little monster almost sent me into cardiac arrest.


We roared in laughter as one of the naughty monkeys stole a pack of cigs from a German tourist and actually put them in his mouth, looking scarily human with his hilarious facial expressions.

Where's the ciggies?

We breezed by small floating villages. Which is pretty much a small house on water. I give these locals A LOT of credit for being able to live in the small confines of these homes. I, myself, would never make it as a floating villager. I get island fever living in Hawaii, which is a zillion times bigger than their tiny villages! They make a living from fishing and catching other marine life from the sea. What confused me was that almost every family had a large dog that would bark at our boat as we passed. "Strange, they barely have enough room for themselves, why would they want to throw a dog into the mix?" I thought. I'm sure he'll end up on their supper plate one night.
I couldn't help myself, I had to say it.....

Local women would troll around on small boats, rowing up to our big boat, trying to sell us outlandishly priced goodies such as Oreos, pop, beer and crackers.

At night, the moon reflected off the water and lights from the other boats illuminated the serene area. My room provided a picture perfect view as I was lulled to sleep by the occasional gentle sway of the boat.
Life is good.... Zzzzzz.....

The time on the water was a nice break from the sea of noisy motorbikes and the nagging locals of the city. After 3 days, I felt more relaxed than Bob Marley, until I returned to the city and my stress level bounced back to normal :(
Thanks for the memories, Halong Bay!

Hank the chihuahua

One of the hardest things for me to endure while traveling is being a witness to the ever present animal cruelty around the world. It absolutely breaks my heart, and it's not something I'm able to grow a thick skin to. It's my weakness, or should I say, my strength?
I tried not to think about it when I saw a "dog meat" restaurant in Laos and Vietnam, or when I saw a cart full of dogs crammed tightly into a cage on the back of a moped in Vietnam, on it's way to the butcher. These images will always haunt me.
I try to tell myself it's part of the culture but my brain isn't accepting this excuse. I can accept every other part of the Vietnamese culture, except the idea of dog being on the menu.

puppy in Cambodia, scratched raw from fleas

What prompted me to write this blog was a little dog I saw while I was in Hanoi. Directly across from the balcony of my hotel was the porch of a local family. They had a little chihuahua that they kept in a small birdcage, which was barely big enough for him to turn around in. I'll call him Hank. I was shocked that anyone could treat a helpless animal in such a cruel manner. I saw from the clothesline that this family had small children. I questioned their ability to be adequate parents if they treated their dog in this inhumane way.

Hank's horrible living conditions

Precious little Hank remained in his cage all day and all night. I wondered, "What's the point in even having a dog?" I frequently went to my balcony to check on him. Not once was he let out of his cage. He was forced to lay in his own pee due to the lack of space. He whimpered, but his owners never paid attention to him. They would go out to the balcony periodically to grab clothes off the line, but never once even acknowledged Hank. He paced methodically in the 4 inches of space available, a heart breaking characteristic of a mistreated animal that has been caged for long periods of time. He didn't even have a bowl of water! How can this treatment be justified?! I was infuriated as much as I was saddened.
When I saw a man appear on the porch, I hollered over to him, begging for him to let his dog out of the cage and give him water. I pointed at the cage and I know he understood that I was implying the ill treatment of his dog. He just gave me a smirk and walked back into the apartment. Grrrr!
It drove me crazy that there was an animal suffering only a few feet from me, and I could do nothing about it.
At night, they put a board against the cage, causing him to be even more secluded. It was torture. I'm sure Hank longed to run free. Chihuahuas have so much energy! It was wrong to do this to him!
I seriously thought about buying the dog from them. I would have easily gave them $100 to rid them of their "burden" and give Hank a life worth living.
I talked to the Vietnamese men at the front desk of my hotel and let them know that this situation was really bothering me. I told them I wanted to report this family to the police for animal cruelty. The men rolled in laughter. "There is no such thing in Vietnam! We eat dog here!" they cackled. "I know! But you shouldn't!" I huffed. They all licked their lips and rubbed their tummies as they explained how delicious dog meat tasted. Extremely disgusted, I walked out of the hotel, into the hectic streets. My head was spinning and I couldn't bare to hear this idiotic talk for one more second. I'm convinced they were dropped on their heads as children.

a sick puppy in Laos

I thought about how I could help these vulnerable creatures and began to feel overwhelmed. I couldn't do it on my own, but it has to stop! To begin with, these people need to be educated!
Culture aside, it only takes common sense to know that you shouldn't eat an animal that is as friendly and loyal as a dog!
Dogs are such a special gift to humans. They have all the qualities that are admirable in a human. They're loyal, forgiving, affectionate, sweet, patient.... and always happy to see us. They brighten our lives. Let's face it, DOGS ARE AWESOME!
What would we do without man's best friend?! They are highly intelligent animals and experience emotions, just like us.
Any sane human can plainly see that canines are supposed to be pets, not a meal. It's barbaric!
Sadly, animal cruelty isn't confined to Vietnam. It happens everywhere, and it happens to all kinds of animals. Although I've focused soley on dogs with this blog, I've witnessed tragically poor treatments to cats, elephants, camels, monkeys, mules, horses, bears, alligators.....
The degree of animal cruelty is definitely worse in third world countries. There are no laws against it. If one does exist, it isn't reinforced. I often see small children finding entertainment in throwing rocks at dogs. I sternly scold them each time I see this happen. Their perception of dogs is much different than it is in the western world.
Growing up, we always had a dog, which was treated just like a family member. My dad is also a huge animal lover. The only 2 times I've ever seen him cry were when our dogs died. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.
As you know, I have a miniature pinscher named Harley. I couldn't imagine treating her in this horrible manner. I protect, love and cherish her like any mother does with her child. Animal rights is something I feel very strongly about.

I feel a rush of anger when I see someone mistreating an animal and will always, always, always say something to the abuser, no matter who they are. If you kick a dog in my presence, be prepared to deal with me.
The abuser may not always understand English, but they clearly grasp the concept from the angry look on my face as I give them a thorough tongue- lashing.

Fact: I'm a vegetarian.
Why? First and foremost, because I love animals. To say that I'm an animal lover is an understatement. About 5 years ago, I saw a video on animal cruelty called "meet your meat". http://www.meat.org/ I was sobbing inconsolably by the end of it. That's all it took. I haven't ate a single piece of meat since. I absolutely refuse to be a part of the heartless killing of animals. Animals are my friends, and I don't eat my friends.

We all know what goes on in slaughter houses, yet many of us turn a blind eye. "If slaughter houses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian." ~ Sir Paul McCartney

My heart went out to the endless amounts of dogs I saw in India that were painfully thin, had large bloody sores and old unhealed fractured legs that caused a disabling limp. Many times, I would go out of my way to give them food and fresh water. I have to say, these were some of the smartest street dogs I've ever seen. They were living in some of the cruelest conditions imaginable, which had forced their survival instinct to kick into high gear. In Nepal, I would always have food in my bag in case I saw a dog. That way, I felt like I made a little difference. This would, in turn, cause me to be followed for hours by my new tail-wagging friend.

rough looking dog in Nepal

I'm an ambassador for animals all around the world! Ha!
I hope this makes you more aware of the hardships of third world countries. If it's hard living for the people, it's even harder living for the animals. 
If you have any ideas of how to help, please message me.
Hopefully, in time, these clueless people will understand the way animals deserve to be treated. Until that day, they continue to suffer. I can barely stand the thought of Hank suffering in his little cage another day :(

For the love of Jackfruit

In the town of Hue, Vietnam, I was reunited with my American friend, Ember, whom I met in Thailand and traveled through Laos with for 10 days. I was beaming when I found we would cross paths once again in Vietnam! Seldom do I find a travel partner that I'm able to travel with for more than 3 days without wanting to go my separate way. With Ember, I didnt even come close to being annoyed of her. I found a keeper!

Her laid back, down to earth personality is exactly what I look for in a travel partner.


After catching up with what each other had been up to in the last month, we ventured out into the city.

There's really not a whole lot to do in the town of Hue, but me and Ember could have fun practically anywhere.


Almost every city in Southeast Asia has their own local market. Some cities have a lively night market, some have better day markets. They sell everything from food to handicrafts.


Ember and I decided to browse through Hue's local market and pick up some fruit for dinner.


In Hue, it's impossible to walk 10 feet with getting harrassed by a local motorbike or rickshaw driver, annoyingly offering a ride by yelling at you from across the street. It can be very tiring after awhile.


They use the same tactic as I did as a child: beg until you get your way.
"Mom, will you buy me this toy?", I would nag.
"No",  my mom would respond.
"Mom, will you PLEASE buy me this toy? Pretty, pretty please!", I would whine. Eventually, my mom would be so annoyed, she would just buy me the stupid toy so I would shut-up.


On the long walk to the market, Ember decided the best way to shun the nagging from the locals would be to pretend like she didn't speak English. Soon enough, she was able to try her scheme out when a rickshaw driver approached us, "Excuse me, where you going? You need ride?" the driver started. Ember countered this by speaking French to him. I burst into such violent laughter that a group of locals stopped to stare at me. The rickshaw driver was confused. He wasn't sure what to do. So he continued to follow us relentlessly.
Succumbing to our failure, we decided to have fun with him. We spoke nonsense words to him, making up our own language and laughing wildly at it. "Ning chung choy." we would say straight faced to him. "waddy hotty ho." We couldn't contain ourselves and soon exploded into uncontrollable laughter. The rickshaw driver was also laughing and finally decided to leave us silly girls alone. Success!

When we finally arrived at the market, we were perplexed when the Vietnamese ladies tried charging us absurdly high prices for the fruit, even more than we would pay in the US! We had our eye on jackfruit, but the ladies adamantly refused to compromise on a price. They automatically think that all tourists are rich.


After failed attempts to achieve a reasonable price, we gave up and strutted over to the local supermarket next door. Here, we found a plethora of fruits, all for a fraction of the price of the market! The best part was that there were actual price tags on the fruit, which meant no more exhaustive, headache-producing bartering!
Hallelujah!


We found that our beloved jackfruit was available only as a whole fruit. Shucks.

It usually comes nicely cut up. This wasn't going to stop us! We'll buy the whole dang thing and cut it up ourselves! In case you didn't know, jackfruit is VERY large and heavy. It's the over-grown child of fruits. Ember hit the nail on the head when she said that jackfruit tastes like bubblegum.


We found a smaller jackfruit that weighed 5 lbs and paid next to nothing for it. We smugly walked out of the supermarket and lugged our spiky green fruit all the way back to the hotel, laughing about how we had out-smarted the uptight locals when we took matters into our own hands.


On the way back to the hotel, we stopped by the post office so I could mail a package home. Ember waited patiently with our precious jackfruit. She mentioned that our jackfruit was beginning to get really smelly. I gave it a sniff and concurred. It definitely had an unpleasant smell to it. Did we buy the wrong kind of fruit?! Dorian is a similar looking fruit that smells like stinky feet (it's also delicious). But I was confident in my knowledge of these exotic fruits. I assured Ember it was indeed jackfruit that we were carrying.


When we got back to the hotel, we borrowed a knife from the front desk. We couldn't wait to cut it open. Was it really jackfruit, or was it dorian? The suspense was killing us!


I performed the cutting procedure on the balcony of our 4th floor hotel. We had a bet going if it was jackfruit or dorian. After a large incision, I peered into the dense yellow fruit and proudly declared "It's jackfruit!" We cheered and celebrated by noshing on our sweet "bubble-gum" fruit, watching the city flowing below us.

I'm going to come out and say that jackfruit is the most delicious fruit I've ever tasted. But when ripe, it can have the unpleasant characteristic of being extremely sticky, I'm talking glue strength sticky. We laughed at each other as strings of stickiness trailed from our hands to mouth. Even after scrubbing our hands harshly, we couldn't get the goo off.


Eating this jackfruit, laughing with Ember, I couldn't have been happier. Messy hands and all. It was so nice to be reunited with Ember. A familiar face in an unfamiliar world.


It was a relief to socialize with another American again. We fully understood each other as we bounced our traveling gripes off of each other during our girl talks. It was exactly what I needed at this stage in my trip. When I travel, I feel like I'm constantly losing and finding myself, turned upside down and inside out, I'm perfecting the human being I strive to be. After a trip like this, it's impossible to return home as the same person.


We commented on how our present lives were so different from our friends and families back home. As they go to work in an office, we occupy our care-free days with things like deciding which exotic fruit to buy and warding off pesty rickshaw drivers. We both agreed that we are very lucky girls.

The sky was grey and thunder rolled in the distance. We had been seeing reports on the news of a typhoon off the coast of Vietnam, which would explain all the rain lately.


Sitting on our $12/night hotel balcony, I stopped to remind myself of where I was. I'm in Vietnam! It can be so easy to forget this when I travel for such long periods of time. I have to remind myself to embrace these moments, because soon they will only be memories. I am so grateful....

Good morning, Vietnam!!

This morning I woke up, swung my feet over the side of the bed and whipped open the curtains of my hotel room. "Gooooood mooorrrrrning, Vietnaaaaam!" were the first words out of my mouth. Cheesy, I know, but it seemed to humor me in these early morning hours. I giggled all the way to the bathroom. Vietnam is full of culture. The locals are, for the most part, very friendly.
They can be seen slurping up Pho at all hours of the day. Pho is a Vietnamese soup with long rice noodles, meat and green herbs. It's served with bean sprouts, cilantro, Thai basil, chili and a lime on the side. It's difficult to find vegetarian Pho but I've succeeded in finding vegetable based broth and tofu substituted for the meat. I'm told from carnivores that this isn't as yummy as the meat version, but I thought it was delicious! The texture and mixture of these ingredients blend together nicely, creating an irresistible comfort food.
I'm currently in the town of Hoi An, known for being the place to get tailor made clothes and shoes. Tourists flock here just for this fact alone. The male travelers brag about getting a 3 piece suit tailor made for $125. I have no idea what it would cost in the US, but evidently the Vietnamese version is dirt cheap. The good news is that it seems to be great quality, too.

After my Robin Williams impersonation of "Good Morning, Vietnam!" I decided to rent a bicycle for $1 (gotta love Southeast Asia for it's affordability!) and tool around town.
First, I swung by the market where locals sell every kind of fruit and vegetable on the planet. I pick out fruit for my breakfast and barter for a good price.

Next, I stop at a shoe store and pick out a pair of sandals and ballet-style shoes to be tailor made just the way I want. The shop owner placed my foot on a piece of paper and traced around it. Then she measured around my foot and scribbled something down in Vietnamese. I flipped through a stack of swatches of material and chose what I liked best. That was it! She told me they would be ready at 3pm the next day. All together, I paid a measly $25. I was impressed!

Here they are:

My snazzy kicks

I pedaled through the relaxed town of Hoi An, soaking in all the sights. As I was passing by a little shop, a tube of toothpaste caught my eye, which reminded me that I was running low. I screeched to a halt and crossed over into oncoming traffic. An older Vietnamese lady is behind the counter. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and point to the toothpaste behind the glass. She retrieves it and approaches me with a warm smile on her face. She steps closer and clearly invades my comfort zone when she positions her face 2 inches from mine. I instinctively back away, but she puts a death grip on my forearm, forbidding me to squirm away any further. She's so close to me, my eyes can't even focus on her face. I feel cross-eyed.

tailor shop

She whispers, "I'm doctor of pharmacy, anything you need, I have." Her breath smells rancid and I feel light headed from holding my breath so I don't have to breath hers in. I wonder, "What did she eat?! She smells rotten inside!". Miraculously, in this cloud of putrid halitosis, I remembered I needed more aloe vera gel. I asked her if she had any. She didn't understand, so I wrote it on a piece of paper. She gave me a big hug and patted me gently on the back. "Oh, how sweet" I thought. She says "5 minutes" and pulls up a tiny plastic chair for me to sit on. I oblige. Then she walks over to my bike and, from the front basket, removes my pineapple and mango. She hands them to me and kisses me on the head, lingering for a while to smell my hair. Then she fixes my hair a little like I'm a treasured doll. "Ok, this is getting a little weird" I decide.

With much difficulty, she pedals off slowly with my bike. She didn't ask me if she could use it, mind you. Confused, I watch as she desperately tries to reach the tall seat. She's a typical tiny Asian.... and no spring chicken at that. I worry for her safety as she crosses the intersection, slower than a snail on fly paper, causing motorbikes to swerve wildly around her. Oh boy, what did I start?

I sit patiently on the tiny plastic chair, shaking my head, wondering if I'll ever see my bike again. I knew this was just another daily crazy travel story unfolding before my eyes.

10 minutes later, she returns. She produces a jar of Ponds face lotion from the front basket. Nothing even close to aloe vera gel. I tell her it's the wrong item. Once again, she comes uncomfortably close and repeats, "I'm doctor of pharmacy, anything you need, I have..... 5 minutes!" She begins to struggle with my bike as she attempts to gallivant off with it again. "Oh no! I'm not going through this again!" I thought. I adamantly refuse for a good 5 minutes before I convince her I don't want it anymore. At this point, it's clear that she speaks absolutely no English except the rehearsed line about her being a pharmacist, which is complete bull crap. I'm dealing with a crazy lady.
I asked her how much I owe her for the water and toothpaste, and she tried charging me 5 times what it should have cost! After much frustrating non-English communication, I ended up paying 3 times more instead. Whatever. I darted out of her shop as fast as I could, but not before she was able to plant a big kiss on my head again. I held my breath as she got close, hoping she wouldn't talk. As I pedaled away in a daze, I thought "What just happened? That was so strange." I decided she must have a touch of dementia. There's no other explanation, besides insanity.

As if my day couldn't get any crazier, on the way back to my hotel, the scooter in front of me was t-boned by another moped. There was a mother on the back holding an infant wrapped in a blanket. Both mom and baby flew off the back and tumbled violently on the hard pavement. I gasped. The mom whisked up the crying baby, giving some seriously evil eyes to the driver of the other scooter. The driver looked genuinely concerned. The mother was feverishly rocking the baby. I decided it probably wouldn't help the situation if I approached them and tried to help. I'm sure they spoke little or no English and a white person trying to see her baby would probably make the stress level even higher. In the US, we would be heavily fined and possibly have our child taken away if we were caught carrying him/her on the back of a scooter like this. It's sad that this is a common everyday activity for people in third world countries.

This was only half my day. Luckily, the other half wasn't quite as strange.
Gooooood mooorrrrrning, Vietnaaaaam!...... Sorry, I had to say it one more time. I mean, when will I ever be able to say that?P.s. If you're looking for a t-shirt that says "Good morning Vietnam!", there is no shortage of them in Vietnam.

Top 10 things I miss while traveling

I'm currently on an excruciating 24 hour bus ride through Vietnam, from Saigon to Hoi An. The roads are so bumpy they have me bouncing around in my seat like a piece of popcorn popping. There couldn't be a better time to blog. April 1st will mark 5 months of traveling thus far. Do I get homesick? Yes. It usually comes in waves every 2 months and only lasts a couple of days, but it still happens. I'm only human. What can I say? Then I remind myself how less exciting life is when I'm not traveling and that usually cures it quickly.
When I'm oceans away from home, and absolutely nothing is familiar to me, there are some things I miss more than others. Here's the list I've compiled:


1. My pup, Harley.
She's like a daughter to me. She's as sweet as honey. I've had her as a puppy, and she'll be 10 next month! Are you wondering who takes care of her while I'm on these international escapades? The only people I would trust with the job, my parents. She has a good life while I'm gone at their home in Minnesota. But she's not really a dog, you see, she's more like a human. I love her more than I've ever loved a human. And that's the truth :)

2. My family.
My adorable niece and nephew are growing up quickly and I wish I was more present in their lives. We do see each other on Skype though. What a brilliant program. Also, both my grandmas are having health issues and I wish I was by their sides in their last years/months/days.

cutie patooties

3. My friends.
I grew up in a small town in SW Minnesota. Population 4,500. Lots of farm land and lots of cows. I loved it. I always knew I'd travel the world someday. One day, something snapped inside of me, and I decided it was time to make this dream a reality. I got a taste of the world.... and the rest is history! Thankfully, I still have strong bonds with the friends I grew up with.


I chose an entirely different life path than they did. They live the conventional life with husbands and kids. My life is, well, unconventional. To each their own. We get along just the same. No matter where I am in this great big world, these girls will always be close to me.


4. My Vitamix.
In the states, hardly a day went by in my house when you didn't hear the deafening loud grind coming from my smoothie maker. In my opinion, this is one of the most spectacular man-made machines ever made. My usual was a delicious mixture of avocado, blueberries, strawberries, mangos, raspberries, flax seeds and almond milk. Thank you, Vitamix, for enhancing my life. I can't wait to bring you to Hawaii with me.


5. Almond butter.

Seriously! Have you tried this stuff? It's soooo good! This is my staple back home. My body must be confused from the abrupt cut-off from it. Sadly, I can't find it anywhere in these third world countries that I'm traipsing through. I guess the rest of the world hasn't caught on to this dreamy spread yet. In their defense, it is a little spendy.


6. Access to healthy food.

When I get back to the US, I'll convert back to my extremely healthy eating habits. No more fried and processed food for this diva. For now, I must eat what is available. It's called survival!
I'm also putting "lack of a regular workout routine" in this category.


6. Good ol' American customer service. *sigh*
Other countries don't quite grasp this concept. We take it for granted as Americans. It can be very frustrating to come across this utter lack of customer service in foreign countries. The conversation with the boyfriend on the phone is usually more important than helping customers. Oh, and sleeping on the job is ok, too. "The customer is always right" doesn't fly here. Quite frequently, I find myself thinking "This would never happen in the US!"

What I miss the most is the smoking ban in the US. As I type this, the bus driver is passionately puffing away on his cancer stick as he drives, with all the windows closed. This is the same driver that has refused to pull over for the last 5 hours to give his customers a bathroom break. It's NOT OK to deprive someone of such an important bodily function, and it's NOT OK to smoke on the bus! (cough, cough!) The more I travel, the more I realize just how easy it is to live in the US. It could be A LOT worse. So quit your complaining!
Safety standards also fall into this category. Sometimes it gets sketchy, and downright dangerous.


7. Driving a vehicle.
There's something about the freedom of the open road. These days I get around by bus, train, plane, boat, bicycle, tuk-tuk, moped, camel.....


8. Using my cell phone.
Being able to use the internet freely, without having to search for a wi-fi hotspot. I miss googling random things on my phone. It makes me feel smarter. Smarter than I already am. Ah hem!


9. Getting a good night's sleep in my own bed.
I long for my down comforter and fluffy mattress pad, along with my little doggie snuggling next to me. Simple creature comforts. I rarely get a good nights sleep when I travel. Many factors contribute to this. You wouldn't believe the places I've slept in during my journeys around the world. Airports, train stations, filthy hotel rooms infested with cockroaches, park benches, and local homes with large uninvited rats.
I've slept on beds that were soley a piece of plywood with a sheet on top, bumpy buses and creaky trains with fussy babies, bed-bug-biting hostel beds in eastern Europe, seedy hotels requiring a chair wedged against the doorknob in Egypt, shivering cold in a dark, dingy room in Tibet, scrunched up on planes for 17 hours straight, hotels in Bangkok with wall-shaking loud music all night, attempted 1am break-in by a drunk in Phnom Penh, a 3am funeral procession with a full-on brass band outside my window in Vietnam.... oh boy, the list goes on. My goodness, now that I think about it, it's a miracle I'm still alive!
My quiet, fluffy bed at home will feel like a 5 star luxury!
Words of advice: always have ear plugs handy while traveling!


10. Using big words and talking fast.
In most of the countries that I travel to, English is not the first language. Even if I'm talking to a local that does speaks English, I still have to talk slower than normal and use simpler words. Frankly, I just miss being around fluent English speakers. Skyping with my family and friends back home, I find myself speaking a lot slower and finding ways to say things more simply. I catch myself and realize I can talk really fast and use more complicated words with them. Yippee!


Maybe you've noticed from my blog, but my vocabulary is slowly slipping. But I'm just not exposed to people that use big words. Most of them only know basic English. So please forgive me for my kindergarten talk :)


So there you have it, the top 10 things I miss while I'm roaming the world. What's on your list?

I shot an AK-47 and I liked it!

Coming to Vietnam, I was naturally interested in the war that took place here. We call it "The Vietnam War", the Vietnamese call it "The American War". It's an important part of American history, as well as Vietnam's.

Just outside of Ho Chi Minh City, there are intricate underground tunnel systems that the Vietnamese lived in and used to escape American troops during the war. They are called the Cú Chi tunnels. I took a tour to see them with my own eyes.

First, we were shown a short documentary film. It depicted the American army as "crazy American devils" who shot their chickens and pots and pans. I stifled my laughter at this nickname given to Americans. I could hardly blame them though. I had no right to judge their one-sided portrayal. I was, after all, on their territory.

Next we were guided through the jungle and shown hiding spots underground used by the Vietnamese.
 

secret hiding spot

Yikes! Watch out for this boobie trap1

We finally reached the famous underground Cù Chi tunnels. We crawled through these highly claustrophobic spaces on our hands and knees. Unbelievably, during the war, the Vietnamese lived in these tiny spaces. They were obviously not made for the larger stature American.
 

Exiting the tiny tunnel

Later, we had the opportunity to shoot our choice of a gun. It cost $16 for 10 bullets. I vaguely remember shooting a rifle once in the basement with my dad as a young child. But guns have always given me the heebie jeebies. I usually want nothing to do with them. But traveling is about overcoming fears, right?

There were about 7 different guns to choose from. Machine gun, AK-47, M16 and..... um, some other big guns. I'm clueless when it comes to firearms. My weapon of choice was an AK-47, because it sounded good.

Earlier, during the tour through the jungle, the eerie sound from these machine guns rang out from the nearby shooting range, making the battles that took place on this very land imaginable.

Donning ear protection, a Vietnamese man guided me to the shooting range. I danced around a little with an excited fear. Speaking little English, he simply showed me the trigger and put his hand against my shoulder to lessen the blow from the kickback. My heart was beating wildly as I squeezed the trigger. POP! POP! POP! The shots were deafening even with ear protection on. The power from this piece of metal was mind blowing, causing a trembling adrenaline rush within me. I'll admit, I liked it! I felt like Rambo.
 

Now that I know how to shoot this dangerous weapon, you better watch out, if you mess with me, I could put a cap in your a$$! ;)

I'm kidding.
I'd use the machine gun.

On a more serious note, the Vietnamese war had a personal impact on me and my family. My uncle, Vern, fought in the Vietnam war and subsequently died in 1996 after a long battle with cancer caused by agent orange. Agent orange is the herbicide that was used by the US army to destroy the crops and foliage in Vietnam, with the intention of robbing the enemy of food and eliminating hiding possibilities. This toxic chemical was later found to cause cancer and birth defects.


American tank

It saddens me that my aunt was left as a widow and my uncle was prematurely robbed of his life from something so senseless as war. It seems so unfair. Agent orange also causes birth defects in following generations. The Vietnamese people have also suffered severely from agent orange and continue to 'til this day. Their soil is still tainted with the poisonous substance. The same soil that saw so much bloodshed in the past.
I'm not a fan of war. At all.

 When will the government come to their senses and realize that war is not the way to come to an agreement?

Cambodian orphanage

Angelina Jolie adopted her first son, Maddox, from an orphanage in Phnom Penh, Cambodia in 2002. She fell in love with Cambodia after filming "Tomb Raider" in Angkor Wat, and also helped put Cambodia on the map.

I wanted to see for myself what kind of conditions these less fortunate children live in prior to entering a more privileged world.


I asked my tuk-tuk driver to bring me to any random orphanage in Phnom Penh. After asking for directions 6 times, we finally arrived at the orphanage, but not before stopping at a toy store. I bought a badmitten set, a ball, puzzles, legos and a popular hacky sack game for the orphanage kids. I thought this would be more beneficial to them than candy, like some tourists feel the need to hand out.


The minute I arrived, a group of 10 energetic children bombarded me and grabbed my hands, arms and skirt. They greeted me with high-pitched "hello's", then immediately tugged me away to play with them. The coordinator of the orphanage told them to pipe down for a minute while I spoke. I told him I was interested in seeing the orphanage and how the children live. He agreed to show me around after I wrote down my name and passport number.

The majority of the children were off-site attending school. The children are aged 4 to 20. There are currently 108 living there. Some were abandoned as newborns, and some of them were orphaned after their parents were killed by land mines from the war. Throughout Cambodia, you will see many land mine victims with missing limbs, often begging for money. It's heart breaking, yet disturbing at the same time.


The children sleep in dorm style rooms with bunk beds. There was a classroom on site where English classes were given. There was also a garden where they grew vegetables, but this had come to a standstill due to the lack of supplies.


The group of children followed us around during the entire tour like little puppies. They were eager to see what I had brought them in my plastic bag. One at a time, I presented them with each of the toys. Their faces lit up and they squealed in delight like it was Christmas morning. I didn't see any other toys laying around. I'm guessing toys are not a priority around here. They drug me off to play with them and their new toys. Feeling like a kid myself, we played on the dirt ground in the orphanage's courtyard. The coordinator went back to his office, allowing me one-on-one time with these sweet kids. After the sun was too hot to handle, we sat together in the shade on a bench swing. I asked them their names and their ages. They were anywhere from 5-13. Some of the children's English was very good, some was minimal.

Rock, paper, scissors

I was surprised at how quickly they warmed up to me. They immediately trusted me. Soon, they were fighting for space on my lap, tightly wrapping their arms in mine and cuddling close to me. I was their new best friend. I asked them if they like it at the orphanage. They all responded enthusiastically with "yes!" Later on, the 13 year old boy that spoke the best English told me that all of their parents were dead. The coordinator said a lot of the children had been found living on the street and trying to fend for themselves. Some were working as garbage pickers at the landfill.


Can you imagine your 5 year old living this life?


Miraculously, after this rough start to life, most of them still seemed to have their innocence. It's incredible how resilient kids are.


I asked the 13 year-old boy what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said "a police officer."
"That's really good! You will have a very good job!", I encouraged him. I was happy to hear that he had goals.


As we chatted, the younger ones climbed on me, struggling for my attention. I acted as their temporary motherly figure. It seemed like they were longing for affection. I gave all of them my attention and tried to make each one feel special. "If I could just bring one home with me, I could show them a life they deserve" I thought.

Later I asked the coordinator if the children were up for adoption. He said that these children would stay here until they were adults.
"But they need more love, parental love!" I thought, sadly.


After a good amount of time spent with the smaller kids, the English class for the older boys was beginning and the Cambodian teacher invited me to sit in during the class.


The student boys were around 15 years old and very intelligent. Only English was allowed to be spoken in the classroom. That day, they were learning verbs, like "going to." They each gave examples. The teacher also asked for examples from me. His English was very good but there were still times when he asked for me to correct his English. It was apparant that they needed a native English speaking teacher.


In the classroom, there were inspirational quotes encouraging dreams and goals. They even had a couple computers......very old computers.


After English class, I hung out with 3 extremeley sweet little girls. They were beautiful.

The oldest wanted to use my camera. I handed it to her and showed her which button to press. I was amazed by how quickly she picked up on it. She took this adorable picture:
 

Soon it was time for them to eat supper (rice and vegetable soup), so I said goodbye to these precious children and left with a smile and warmed heart.


In conclusion, life at this orphanage isn't so bad. I know that orphanages in other corners of the world can be horrific, but this one was alright. Even though it's a tedious process, I would love to adopt internationally one day. I imagine it's a mutually rewarding experience. Visiting this orphanage was another step closer to this stage in my life.


I was still in a giving mood when I got back to my hotel, so I went through my backpack and gathered a bag full of clothes and shoes. Cambodia is a country filled with such warm locals, which makes me want to give back somehow. They've been so hospitable to me while I've been here.

With my bag in hand, I headed down to the river, where I had seen numerous poor locals earlier. I walked along the river, looking for the perfect person to give my belongings to. I saw a gentle looking lady with 4 small kids, all were barefoot, including her. Her weary eyes lit up as I approached her. I opened the bag and started to show her the clothing and shoes. A lot of them were brand name, such as American Eagle and Hollister. She's going to be stylin'! She was elated to see there were sandals in the bag. Her children feverishly tore the clothes out of the bag with such force that the bagged ripped in half. She scolded them, then appreciatively put her hands together in a prayer gesture to thank me. I returned the gesture. She needed them a lot more than I did. I walked away contently.


As the saying goes, 'Tis better to give than to receive....

Somber killing fields of Cambodia

While in Phnom Penh, I decided to visit the Choeung Ek killing fields, where thousands of Cambodians were murdered after the Khmer rouge regime took over in the 70's. These tragic events were very similar to what happened during the holocaust. I had the opportunity to visit Dachau concentration camp while I was in Germany, so I knew the kind of somber experience I was in for. The killing fields are an important part of the Cambodians history. It's absolutely unbelievable that something this atrocious happened. All together, nearly 4 million Cambodians were killed. 4 million!

One of the mnay mass graves

Whats even more shocking is the fact that it happened in the not-so-distant past. 1975-1979. Just shortly before I was brought into this world. It's hard to fathom the fact that genocides have occurred all around the world. How can human beings be so ruthless?


I hired a tuk-tuk to drive me to the outskirts of Phnon Penh to these killing fields. My tuk-tuk driver's name was "John". He told me his brother and sister were killed in the S-21 prison.


As I listened to my audio guide, I walked on the land where these horrific acts took place. The audio-guide provided commentaries from actual survivors. How can you ever be the same after going through something like that?


There were stories of babies being bludgeoned to death and guards smashing the prisoners skulls on a tree in order to save bullets. Loud music was played to drown out the screams of the victims. Different torture devices were also used. Pieces of clothes, shards of bones and teeth can still be seen on these haunting grounds, more continue to resurface with heavy rain. Numerous skulls were on display, many with fractures.

teeth and bones from victims

It gave me goosebumps to be present in a place that saw such a great deal of suffering. A place where so many lives were taken. It was uncomfortable.


After visiting the humbling killing fields, I visited the Tuol Sleng museum, the location of the S-21 prison, where many Cambodians were held as prisoners and tortured before being murdered. There were countless eerie mug shots of the victims upon arrival.

Many of them had blood splattered on their faces. The look of horror in their eyes was heart breaking.

I shuffled through the display slowly, looking into each of their black eyes, deeply sensing their fear and paying my respect. It made me outraged that such horrific crimes were committed against these people that I truly have grown a liking for. My sweet, friendly Cambodians! Such beautiful people! How could someone have treated them like this?!

I choked back tears as I saw pictures of woman with their precious babies. The babies were murdered in front of them. In one mug shot, a mother held her sleeping infant, who looked so peaceful. She had no idea what was going to happen next. She never had a chance to experience all the wonderful things in life.


I read witness accounts from lucky survivors of the gruesome sights they were exposed to and terrible conditions they endured. The girl standing next to me was sobbing. I had to walk away before my own tears fell.


There were pictures of dead bodies of prisoners in the electrocution rooms that were tortured to death. They did nothing to deserve this atrocious treatment.

I walked by a picture of Pol Pot, the Cambodian man responsible for these horrific acts, the leader of the Khmer rouge regime. I felt an intense hatred towards this man. What was wrong with him?! How can anyone be so cruel? I just don't understand it. I felt a little bit of peace knowing he was now rotting in hell. What's even more perplexing is the fact that the ones that committed the killings were Cambodians! Cambodians killing Cambodians.

I floated out of the prison with a blank face, trying to process everything I just saw, my throat tight from holding back tears. As we drove back through the city, I looked at the passing faces of my beloved Cambodians in a different light. I now knew what kind of pain they had suffered. And still, they smile, always smiling! What an amazing culture.

I apologize if this was difficult for you to read. Can you imagine what is was like to actually be there? As hard as it is to visit these sites, it's so very important we are aware of what happened, so this may never happen again.
There aren't too many things I can think of that are more senseless than war.