tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5466164451639449512024-03-13T21:00:45.836+02:00like.love.travelI like reading. I love chocolate. And then there's travel...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-46773434527346749242013-01-26T16:04:00.002+02:002013-01-26T16:04:52.085+02:00Old Dubai Charm - Getting lost in Al Bastakiya<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3EtyDsqVMAo/UQPTxQF5f2I/AAAAAAAAANI/1zu8nm93cWk/s1600/DSC_0868+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3EtyDsqVMAo/UQPTxQF5f2I/AAAAAAAAANI/1zu8nm93cWk/s400/DSC_0868+-+Copy.jpg" width="400" /></a>Attributing Dubai with the description "charming" seems like a misconception. Dubai is vibrant and over-the-top... and <i>flashy</i>. Like a glittering disco ball. <i>Charming</i> would be the simple, inexpensive baubles my grandmother use to decorate the Christmas tree, and hold some form of nostalgia or sentiment. All of which Dubai know nothing of.<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">* </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>*This is just my personal assessment and
opinion of a city I visited for 48 hours, and objectivity is not one of
my selling points. Also, I'm not for sale.</i></span></span><br />
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But I'm here to tell you that that's all "New Dubai"! Old Dubai is charming, and resonate with the simplicity of years before skyscrapers, water theme parks and hordes of tourists happened to Dubai.<br />
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<b>Arabian Nights at the Orient Guest House</b><br />
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Since we came from Sri Lanka,
which is only a four hour flight, we arrived in
the afternoon which meant we could go to our hotel and check in immediately. That in and of itself was fascinating enough!<br />
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We
decided to skip the mass of extremely-overpriced, glitzy five star hotels and
stayed in a quaint boutique hotel situated in the old Persian area, known as the Bastakiya Quarter. (More on this later!)<br />
The <a href="http://www.orientguesthouse.com/html/home.php" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Orient Guest House</a>
is a traditional old limestone house with a wind tower, and all the rooms situated around a central, open air courtyard; which makes the place all the more charming! The room itself
was a bit of a let down in all honesty, but functional and clean which
is really all you need, right? Breakfast in the courtyard each morning is a tranquil affair and they serve the most delectable orange jam (I should have
swiped a jar!)... I'd say that alone makes the place worth a second
visit!<br />
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The <a href="http://www.arabiancourtyard.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Arabian Courtyard Hotel</a> is just up the street, and it's amenities are open to guests staying at the Orient. <a href="http://likelovetravel.blogspot.com/2013/01/we-go-to-desert-and-it-floods.html" target="_blank">Plus they have a huge genie with pointy shoes as the doorman!</a><br />
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It really is a treat to step out from the quiet coolness of the Orient, into the narrow alleys of the Bastakiya area, and retreat to it's tranquillity after a busy, hot day exploring Dubai.<br />
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<b>Al Bastakiya Quarter</b><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qi6gMtAb-lI/UQPTwxBY0-I/AAAAAAAAAM8/XGNL6hp7Nl0/s1600/DSC_0596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qi6gMtAb-lI/UQPTwxBY0-I/AAAAAAAAAM8/XGNL6hp7Nl0/s400/DSC_0596.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al_Bastakiya" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Al Bastakiya</a> is one of the oldest residential areas of Dubai, with traditional houses and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind_tower" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">wind towers</a> (the historical air-conditioning system), weaved together in an intricate maze of narrow alleys. Even tough a large part was destroyed to build skyscrapers, the tiny area that remained is now renovated and cherished as a historical site. It is marvellous and reminiscent of old Arabia, but sorely lacking in authenticity... I can't help but feel like I'm walking around on a movie set. (In my case - <i>lost</i> on a movie set!)<br />
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The streets are deserted, and the stonewalled buildings mainly house cultural museums, a few tea gardens, and art galleries.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A restoration workshop in the Bastakiya Quarter</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Purchases at the Persian goods shop</span>.</td></tr>
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It's worth getting lost in for an hour or two, in fact I'll even include this <a href="http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/city-guides/dubai-walking-tour-1/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">helpful walking guide</a> so you won't miss anything worth seeing, but loosing your way is part of the fun!<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qNlwrUp1FJo/UQPTx0p59EI/AAAAAAAAANM/OrU4_w3udNI/s1600/IMG_1629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>How else would you run into an American architect - now aspiring artist - who takes you to see his studio and tell you where to find the best tea garden in Dubai? Or find a small family store that sell authentic Persian goods; like beautiful table cloths, decorated plates and jewellery boxes made from camel bone. The Iranian owner and his son was delightful and very accommodating, even taking down a table cloth from their wall after I dismissed every cloth they draped open for my perusal.<br />
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Despite the lack of residents and loud, spicy street markets that I so desperately want it to be; I did find Al Bastakiya charming.<br />
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Especially at night when everything is quiet, and the moon casts a glow on the carved doors lining the narrow streets. And because I get to share it with my darling husband, a sweet memory bauble to hang on our "travel-tree".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-59803672734118937712013-01-19T17:19:00.000+02:002013-01-28T14:36:31.124+02:00Marvelling at a magical Year of Travel, and having the Pictures to Prove It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think it's fair to say - nay, proclaim to all!, that twenty twelve was my bitch! In fact, it might have been the best year of my life, albeit a difficult one. Despite it's challenges I can truly say it was overall a MAGICAL year, the main reason being the absurd amount of travel I got to do with my hubby. That and the fact that only a small margin of it was wasted on fighting with him. (Yes we have our rows, but this year, I can only recall<i> one</i> that ended in screaming with tears and snot gushing from my face, while blindly marching into the seedy night-life of Amsterdam.)*<br />
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<i>*To put it into perspective, 2011 started out great with a two week trip to Thailand, but the rest was a never ending flow of shattered dreams and disillusionment; which of course spilled over into waves of constant arguments with my husband. To put it mildly: F#CK YOU 2011!</i><br />
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<a name='more'></a>Travel wise 2012 was almost too good to be true, with four different trips abroad, and a number of great weekends scattered ever so often. So in order to <i>actively</i> count my blessing I've decided to look back on a wonderful year of travel, and the many interesting encounters through some photographs. <br />
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Holy macaroon, I just realized after uploading all these images, how incredibly blessed I am...<br />
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I don't think it's possible to top 2012, but let's roll in 2013 while I'm on a roll! While I hang around this year, frantically stuffing my face with cookies, trying to subdue the constant gypsy-travel-nag-ants in my pants; I'll get to writing up on all of the above. Promise. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-72020309240630955412013-01-17T15:36:00.000+02:002013-01-18T11:23:22.145+02:00We go to the desert, and it floods.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sjUQP9NBVkw/UPfxBtTva_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/eg9ZCLFaeHU/s1600/IMG_2163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sjUQP9NBVkw/UPfxBtTva_I/AAAAAAAAAIY/eg9ZCLFaeHU/s400/IMG_2163.JPG" width="400" /></a>I think many would agree that Dubai is quite an impressive city. Artificial, but impressively so. On our recent trip to Sri Lanka we decided to stop over for two days to explore another new corner of the globe and add a new Customs stamp to our growing collection. (I'm very proud of my bad-ass, inked passport!) And it did not disappoint. It was exactly what we expected, just more exaggerated and overpriced. We saw many incredible things in Dubai, all of which made my mouth gape like a monkey spotting a lion...<br />
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There were foreigners, foreigners galore! Not tourists mind you, but ex-pats who live and work and play there like they own the place. It's also clear that they don't.<br />
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Dubai was gearing up for the celebrations of the UAE's 41 years of existence, and so there were many, <i>many</i> UAE flags adorning streets and malls and entire buildings. It is said that on the day of the celebrations (which we unfortunately missed by a full 24 hours), "you can see many Ferrari's out on the street."<br />
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Which brings me to big and impressive buildings such as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burj_Khalifa" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Burj Al Khalifa</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burj_al_arab" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Burj Al Arab</a>, and the man made islands of The Palms and World Islands - which to be fair, isn't nearly as impressive from land as it is from the sky. And malls that boast huge aquariums, ski slopes, water fountains and candy stores the size of wonderland. Equally intriguing is the overwhelming amount of lingerie stores filled with Arab women in traditional clothes, twirling around delicate pieces of <strike>floss</strike> underwear.<br />
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We went to the beach in search of a good spot to photograph the world renowned sail boat building, but only found lobstery-Russians in skimpy swimwear. I even got a glimpse of a hairy ass in a g-string speedo. Oh, Lemony Snicket, if only you knew...<br />
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A trip to the desert was fascinating! We spent an evening under the stars with hordes of tourists in an artificial desert camp where we witnessed a belly dancer shake what her mama gave her. She was blonde. And not at all very good, which I'm guessing, is made up for my the fact that she's blonde. For a brief moment I wondered if at any point in her life she was traded for money.<br />
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We spent a morning scouring the souks around the Creek; the markets filled with salesman pedalling gold items, spices and textiles is possibly my favourite part of Dubai. I even found a real Genie outside the Arabian Courtyard Hotel!<br />
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But by far the most incredible thing we saw in Dubai, even more spellbinding than the genie... rain. Rain in the desert! According to the locals it only rains about once or twice a year, and even then it's only fifteen minutes of light drizzle. It's so rare it is romanticised by the Dubai youth, like a moonlit stroll. What started out as light drizzle turned into what I thought to be a normal amount of rain for a drizzly morning... but no, for Dubai it's "heavy rains".<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PDvvlijy47Q/UPf8S5Y2krI/AAAAAAAAAJA/iH8Gz-qfaM8/s1600/IMG_1770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PDvvlijy47Q/UPf8S5Y2krI/AAAAAAAAAJA/iH8Gz-qfaM8/s400/IMG_1770.jpg" width="400" /></a>Heavy rains that quickly turned into flooding due to the lack of drainage! Rivers of water running ankle deep on the side walks, stalled cars lined the streets. For all the man made splendour that is Dubai, they forgot to give thought to the things they cannot make, or purchase or control. Like an unnatural amount of rain in a world where society daily face ever unpredictable natural elements and disasters.<br />
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It was quite the spectacular event, I've never seen so many confused Arabs! There's no use in going back... now I've seen it all! <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-79252522164763332172012-11-20T16:24:00.000+02:002012-12-04T15:35:25.418+02:00Airplanes - The modern day torture deviceThere's a reason why this blog is called "like.love.travel"...and it has nothing to do with the speech formations of a Californian "valley girl". <br />
For all the wonderful horizon broadening, frame of reference stretching (and bank account shrinking) effects that travel has in my life; there's one part about it that I don't quite love so much... Travelling.<br />
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The actual "getting there" part is just sucky! People say "it's not the destination, it's about the journey" (and I want to agree with them), but these people obviously don't suffer from motion sickness! As a baby I threw up on my mother EVERY TIME we got in the car; being young and uneducated in the ways of babies she thought this was normal. Poor young fool. (This was in the days when adults felt it was okay for children to be transported in moving vehicles without being strapped into a car seat.) It hasn't gotten any better with age... the motion sickness, my mother has gotten wise and not much older-looking. (I hope you're reading this Mom.)<br />
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Airplanes are the absolute worst! And not just because I feel whoozy the entire time, although it just adds to my level of irritation. You'd think with the technological advancements we've made over the last 100 years someone would have figured out teleportation by now! But no, I'm left to swollow down chunks while they fund people to skydive from space. (Which is ridiculously cool and stupid by the way!)<br />
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But it's not just the motion sickness that makes flying incredibly uncomfortable to the brink of torture...<br />
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<b>Babies. Babies on a plane.</b> I feel sorry for the tiny humans when <i>I</i> feel this horrible and irritated, sardined into a stuffy cabin with a bunch of smelly grown-ups, I feel like crying too! But I don't have to, because I can express my disdain quite adequately with crass words and a series of grunts or the occasional sigh. This doesn't mean I haven't resorted to crying...<br />
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Point is; flying is uncomfortable for everyone, the miniature people and their angst ridden parents included, so I say live and let live. On the other hand; children who are unruly and old enough to know better, with parents who idly sit by and do nothing to entertain or at the very least attempt to control their child, are rightfully frowned at and deserve every judging stare or unwanted piece of "advice" from fellow travellers.<br />
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<b>Which brings me to smelly grown-ups</b>. The aroma of sweaty travellers fill the cabin eventually, but there are the few exceptions whose odour seeps into my inner being to assault my already fragile stomach and shatter my spirit. People with offensive body odour should not be allowed in the confinements of an aircraft! Period. Put them on a no fly list for terrorism, or in the baggage compartment if you absolutely must.<br />
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<b>Unfortunate toilet situation.</b> If you didn't make it to the toilet by hour two of the flight you're too late... what awaits you is a vile pit of despair soaked in urine that make your feet stick to the ground. Because of the aforementioned motion sickness, I tend to drink a lot of coke* in an effort to trick my body into thinking I'm <i>not</i> in fact nauseous; so a visit to the loo is inevitable on a 12 hour flight... While I'm in there trying very hard to touch the general area with the soles of my shoes <i>only</i>, and <a href="http://likelovetravel.blogspot.com/2012/09/number-one-for-number-one.html" target="_blank">bush-peeing like a pro</a>; I pray that the "mile high club" is a myth! Please, LET IT BE A MYTH!<br />
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<i>* coca-cola being the answer to every medical problem of course! According to my mother-in-law it helps for headache, nausea, stomach ache, high blood pressure... anything!</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahh! Sweet nectar of delusion. But it really helps for nausea, and this particular can saved my life!</td></tr>
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<b>You're trapped! </b>In a moving tin can filled to the brim with strangers who are mostly inconsiderate, smelly or sick. Worse is the fact that for the next eight to 13 hours you have only the confinements of your seat area to inhabit. This never seemed to bother me until a sadistic cabin crew allowed us mere economy passengers to walk through the business and first class sections on disembarkation. Hopefully you don't have to arm wrestle your hairy neighbour for your share of the armrest, but if you take into account the chair to armrest ratio, that's a big portion of your space he's occupying; and like the Israel/Palestine situation, I won't stand for that type of crap! Rocket fire to follow!<br />
There's always the risk of the person in front who manage to slush your drink over your legs while reclining to take a nap on your lap. This would never happen if I could stretch out in my own private pod in first class... I should start contemplating the validity of making more money.<br />
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<b>Airplane food. Almost as terrifying as hospital food, just packaged better. </b>The smell alone is to die for... so please, JUST LET ME DIE ALREADY! Other's don't seem to mind so maybe it's just my inability to eat cat shit, but when it's munch time on the plane my stomach start to churn. During a (rather loud) discussion with friends, I was pleased to learn that this so-called "food" has a lasting reign of terror on everyone's digestive system. It's not just me! While getting a foot massage in a Thai night market we discovered that half of us get a serious case of "runny tummy", while the other half's tummies come to a complete standstill after ingesting a minimal amount of airplane food. Having an upset stomach on holiday is obviously not ideal, and buying the right medication in a non-English speaking country can be a real challenge. As was established, save yourself and the crowd of fellow tourist-in-need the time; and loudly explain to the confused pharmacist: "NO POO FOR LONG TIME!!" This is apparently understood.<br />
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Once on the ground, and sufficient queuing to exit the torture chamber has incurred... the nightmare is still not over. Since I fly from the southern tip of Africa it's a long flight no matter where we go, so normally we arrive on the red eye. This leaves you roaming the streets like the undead until you can check into your hotel at at a much later time. Sleep deprived, sticky, hungry, constipated and feeling like an old Chinese man poohed in your mouth, you end up site seeing and taking pictures in such a state... the evidence of your torture captured forever. The injustice.<br />
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In a few days I leave for Dubai, after sufficiently recovering from the aftermath of flying, I plan on scouring the old souks for a magic carpet. Aladdin style... I pray it's real. Please, LET IT BE REAL!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-74149721754500158742012-10-15T17:39:00.000+02:002012-10-15T17:39:46.386+02:00Hong Kong HighlightsI've already tried to describe my infectious <a href="http://likelovetravel.blogspot.com/2012/09/my-love-affair-with-hong-kong.html" target="_blank">attraction to Hong Kong</a>, like nerds to <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=cosplay" target="_blank">Cosplay</a>. It's unnatural and cannot be rationalized. It's also <i>clearly</i> not conducive to writing a sane blog piece (which is already a challenge since my sanity is debatable and can only be stretched so thin). My attempt turned into a mushy love declaration to my sweet husband. Yuk! (Not the husband, the goowy-ness of my public affection.) After all that writing I'm still a little confused as to the origin of my love for Hong Kong, which made me realize that<i> </i>other people (those who read this blog for instance) must be A LOT confused! (So basically, one person then.)<br />
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So without all the touchy-feely nonsense here's some concrete "To Do's" if you ever get to Hong Kong. And when you get there, Hong Kong will work it's magic on you and you'll return a smitten, stammering, <strike>poop flinging</strike> buffoon like me.<br />
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<h3>
Victoria Peak</h3>
For the best view of Hong Kong you should make your way up Victoria Peak on Hong Kong Island. You can do this by car or - like the attention seeking idiot we encountered - run! (I'm sure he's an idiot for various reasons, but he ran up the PEAK. WITHOUT A SHIRT!) But by far the best and most popular means of transportation is to have yourself hauled up a mountain in a funicular that was built in the 1880's. The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peak_Tram" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Peak Tramway</a> takes about five minutes from Central District all the way to the top of Victoria peak and it runs from 7am to 12pm. Sit on the right hand side of the car for the best views of the harbour and skyline.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't be alarmed, it only <i>feels</i> like you're going to backslide and plummet to your death.</td></tr>
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While you're in the queue it's worth spending the extra money to get a "Sky Pass" ticket that gives you access to the "Sky Terrace". That's kind of the VIP section of the peak where all the cool kids hang out. From here you can enjoy the unforgettable 360 degree view of Hong Kong and compare it to the historical photographs on display. You may also pay absurd amounts of money for a warm coke, while watching a helicopter commute a millionaire from one side of town to the other.<br />
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If you're really lucky you get to enjoy the scenery before mist rolls over the peak and spills out into the city bowl, engulfing the skyline. Make sure to time it right and hang around till sundown to enjoy the city lights at night. There's a mall if you really must shop, but we opted to enjoy a more reasonably priced beverage in the outdoor square, and laugh at the jogger who finally arrived at the top. Still shirtless and huffing and puffing the glorious 80% humidity that is Hong Kong air. There's also a Madame Tussaud's which I insisted on seeing since I've never been, and was fairly surprised at just how peewee sized Madonna and Lady Gaga is!<br />
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There's a look out platform a little ways down the road from where you can take in the city lights. It's quite surreal to see the glaring city that is vibrating with energy while you are floating in a cloud enjoying the slight breeze and the serenade of crickets.<br />
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<h3>
Shopping</h3>
When it comes to shopping, HK is no Bankok (if you've been to Bankok you would know exactly why), but like any other Asian city I've been it's built for the consumer. With shops lining every street and every metro station walk through. Not to mention the massive malls containing every luxury designer brand known to man. Shops are easily accessible with walkways, metro station stops inside a mall, and closing time is around midnight everyday. For a designer hungry South African shoe connoisseur it's a dangerous place, 'cause it's not exactly cheap and it's almost impossible not to get lost in a building like the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Finance_Centre" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">ifc</a> or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Commerce_Centre" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">icc</a> or any other c's you may come across. Kowloon seem to be a bit cheaper than HK Island and unlike Bangkok where an electronic store on the street is probably selling a knock-off, the stores in Kowloon sell the real-deal for a very good price. In fact it's illegal to sell counterfeit products on the street, so when you get swarmed by an army of pirates with pictures of handbags and watches they store out of sight; do the right thing and just say no!<br />
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<h3>
Temple Street Night Market</h3>
I was a little underwhelmed with the Temple Street Night Market in Kowloon, probably because I was spoiled with the amazing Bankok street markets, or maybe we got there a little early. But if you're looking for some cheap Chinese trash and trinkets to fill the display cases, drawers and trash cans of relatives back home, this is a good place to start. Make sure to haggle on price because it's almost certain that the same junk will be offered at a lower price a few stalls down the road. Upon investigation, I found a <a href="http://www.discoverhongkong.com/eng/shop/where-to-shop/street-markets-and-shopping-streets/index.jsp" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">number of wonderful markets and shopping streets</a> that is conveniently organised by topic, that is on my list of things to do next time I visit.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Poj4cFrER6Q/UHac1SknooI/AAAAAAAAAFY/jzC6eJc12Ww/s1600/IMG_1129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Poj4cFrER6Q/UHac1SknooI/AAAAAAAAAFY/jzC6eJc12Ww/s400/IMG_1129.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The umbrella was originally bought as a gift to my little sister, but it sure came in handy! She also loved the fact that it was still wet with Hong Kong rain when she opened it.</td></tr>
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Sushi in Causeway Bay</h3>
This vibrant area on HK Island is filled with designer stores, corner takeaways of the Chinese variety (in other words, a hunk of deep fried "I don't know, but it seems to be popular") and an array of sit-down cuisine options. So if raw fish isn't your thing, don't panic, you won't have to go hungry or eat the mystery takeaway. There's also an absurd amount of young people and business men and women, all suited up and lining the side walk outside restaurants waiting for a table at around midnight. MIDNIGHT! I can't wait that long for dinner, I get notoriously cranky when I'm hungry and might just spear someone with my heel!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMnMA6szILk/UHangdRn4vI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Iw_54ptHXBc/s1600/IMG_1049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tMnMA6szILk/UHangdRn4vI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Iw_54ptHXBc/s400/IMG_1049.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It may appear that the guy on the left is checking me out, but in reality he can't turn away from the pure look of evil on my face. I might have been growling out of hunger too.</td></tr>
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Because it's an Island all food tend to be a little on the expensive side, except the Sushi! Not only is it cheap, it's also the most delicious and utterly fresh, like they just pulled that sucker from the ocean an hour ago. And they probably did, along with some endangered sharks or dolphins. When locals queue outside a restaurant you know the food is good, so after an hour of waiting we finally got a table at... uhm... ehr... a place that sell sushi. (I know right, my standard of "journalistic" travel writing is... lacking, entirely! But to be fair, this was before I had a blog to consider and my brain is pretty much runny honey. And at the time I was severely ill with Hong Kong Fever and was focused on keeping the starving zombie bitch contained.)<br />
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If it helps, the place had a poster outside with a pretty Asian girl that looks remarkably <i>a lot</i> like my cousin, which is weird since my cousin is <i>a lot</i> Caucasian.<br />
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We had the best sushi of our lives and I'll probably never be able to find the place again, but at least I have the picture as proof. See how much happier (and much less demonic) I look with food in my belly? Crisis averted.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the relief on my hubby's face.</td></tr>
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<h3>
Take a Walk</h3>
Yes, it's damn hot and the humidity literally <i>killed</i> my hair, but take to the streets and soak up the unique Hong Kong vibe! It's worth every sticky, frizzy, overheating, crowd-pressing second of it!<br />
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Kowloon is a vibrant "more authentic" Chinese experience with over crowded streets, bright neon signs and traditional medicine shops ever so often. IT. IS. AMAZING! And <i>clean</i>, which is equally remarkable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kowloon</td></tr>
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Don't miss Kowloon Park, a green haven offering children (and adults) swimming pools to escape the heat , groups practising Tai Chi, running trails for the eager jogger, a traditional Chinese garden, wild orchids and an aviary where a water tortoise is sunbathing along with the ducks and swans. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-04WkOwluX0c/UHwXwP3wQBI/AAAAAAAAAGw/IyWGYSWGJJg/s1600/IMG_1127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-04WkOwluX0c/UHwXwP3wQBI/AAAAAAAAAGw/IyWGYSWGJJg/s400/IMG_1127.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kowloon Park Aviary</td></tr>
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A short subway ride away you find you've stumbled into a western, business driven city, mostly occupied by foreigners. Yes, pregnant women with little blond children in abundance crawling the air-conditioned mega malls. Over-caffeinated business men (and women) rushing past in a suit and tie. (A suit and tie! In that stuffy heat!) Restaurants and bars overflowing with citizens of the world! But regardless, HK Island still has an Asian flavour, almost zen-like quality!<br />
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If you can find your way outside a mall, there are walkways connecting buildings throughout Central District. Take a break in one of the many gardens and parks between the skyscrapers, and admire the architecture of some of the most famous buildings in Hong Kong.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bank of China</td></tr>
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<h3>
Walk of Stars</h3>
On the waterfront of the Tsim Sha Tsui area of Kowloon is the "Walk of Stars", where you will find the names and hand prints of famous Asian stars. I'm a fan of Cantonese films with over-the-top fightings scenes, artistic cinematography and tragic heroes, and consider myself fairly knowledgeable in the genre; but I'm embarrassed to say I only recognised the names of two or three actors. At the end there's a statue of Bruce Lee which I managed to miss altogether, maybe because I was distracted by the recycling bin sign that mistakenly had profanity printed on it. Translation FAIL. I'm so sad that I didn't think to snap a picture of it! (Again, the runny honey and Hong Kong Fever to blame!) It's just too dirty to write in words...<br />
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Hey! Now, stop trying to imagine the perverted possibilities written on the recycling bin sign and FOCUS because the next bit is important!<br />
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Most importantly, you cannot miss the view of the skyline of HK Island from here. It takes your breath away...every time. Every night at 20:00 there is the "Symphony of Lights", a spectacular show that involves all the buildings on the Island skyline.<br />
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If none of these highlights tickle you fancy, well then there's always Hong Kong Disneyland, or Wednesdays there are horse races at the track in Happy Valley. Or take the ride of your life on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central%E2%80%93Mid-levels_escalators" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">longest outdoor escalator system</a> in the world! I'd have to go back just for that! Any excuse, right?<br />
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So now I've cronicled an entire itinerary of first hand experiences to enjoy in Hong Kong, and then some. Any other "must do's" you can add? I'm already mapping out my plan of attack for my next visit! Hopefully this could be helpful to someone in some way, or at the least be entertaining. I maintain that no one is immune to the charm of Hong Kong, and it's impossible not to have a grand time. But I'm sorry to say my itinerary features something wonderful and enviable, no-one elses could... This guy!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-24181507543549110472012-09-28T14:42:00.000+02:002012-09-28T14:42:06.815+02:0010 Compelling reasons why I could never be a VegetarianBefore anyone gets all self-righteous about animals being cute and fluffy and how wrong it is to eat them, I would like to start by stating: I love animals...I think they're delicious! Some may even be more delicious than others...<br />
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Exhibit A: Our fluffy fat-hobbit kitty! We rescued her from a flooding drain pipe when she was 5 weeks old and now she thinks she owns me. She spends her days following me around the house, insisting on every drop of my attention. And watching me pee. Due to her cuteness and soft jelly-belly, I'm pretty sure she would be delicious baked into a cupcake!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TJqX7I0g3t4/UGLariQdw8I/AAAAAAAAACc/ggojqUEWXlM/s1600/IMG_1253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TJqX7I0g3t4/UGLariQdw8I/AAAAAAAAACc/ggojqUEWXlM/s400/IMG_1253.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">She thinks she's people!</span></td></tr>
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Enter exhibit B: This adorable ball of energy is our puppy, Pippa; appropriately named for her cute bum, like <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/17/pippa-middleton-butt_n_1432403.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">other Pippas in the world apparently</a>, just better! I love her more than I ever thought possible to love a non-human. She's so cute I could just eat her up...if I could catch her!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I know, she's wearing a jersey... I'm one of <i>those</i> pet owners. But it was cold, dammit!</span></td></tr>
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Secondly, not all animals are cute or fluffy! Take this <a href="http://oddanimals.com/featherless-chicken/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">breed of featherless chicken</a> for instance. (I just threw up a little in my mouth. I may never eat chicken again!)<br />
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I agree, all animals deserve to be treated humanely, even the fugly monster chickens. And some, such as the aforementioned pets(and those freaky chickens!) are not for human consumption... but the rest are fair game! Here's why I could never be a Vegetarian:<br />
<br />
<b>#1</b> Eating meat is my cultural heritage!<br />
Recently we celebrated Heritage Day in South Africa (we have an absurd amount of annual public holidays), also known as <a href="http://braai.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">"National Braai Day"</a>, where we get together with friends and family to celebrate the diverse heritage of our rainbow nation, and to have a braai. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regional_variations_of_barbecue" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">(braai = barbeque)</a> Eating meat is such an integral part of our national culture, being vegetarian would be sacrilege! An abomination, or equally absurd as claiming to be the Queen of Sheba and planning on immigrating to Mars. There's even an anthem for National Braai Day...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
<b>#2 </b>I'm proud to be South African... see #1.<br />
<br />
<b>#3 </b>I <i>could</i> make this my new byline: "I like veggies. I LOVE meat. And then there's travel..."<br />
<br />
<b>#4 </b>Being a vegetarian takes a lot of effort, and quite frankly, I'm really lazy! Besides, it's hard enough to figure out what to cook for dinner without narrowing the options by 90%.<br />
<br />
<b>#5 </b>Bacon...need I say more! (I guess it's also a good thing I'm not Jewish, and don't plan to convert to Islam.)<br />
<br />
<b>#7</b> I don't do pills, not even vitamins. I'm pretty sure you'll have to take some kind of supplement to your diet since you know, you're probably starving!<br />
<br />
<b>#8 </b>I'm kind of a "skinny <i>biatch</i>", I need to put some meat on my bones. (Now I'm just grasping at straws!)<br />
<br />
<b>#9 </b>I'm weak willed and have very poor discipline!<br />
<br />
<b>#10</b> There's no number 6. Because, MEAT! I don't need 10...<br />
<br />
I'll leave you with the mental image of me enjoying a juicy, tender piece of steak! It should have been an actual picture, but unfortunately there isn't one. Instead here's a photo of my hubby devouring a massive cheese burger. Sayonara suckas!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-53626311143315729142012-09-21T12:17:00.001+02:002012-09-21T12:17:49.593+02:00My Love Affair with Hong Kong<b><span style="font-weight: normal;">Have you ever </span></b><span style="font-weight: normal;">been somewhere that you didn't have a very high expectation of enjoyability beforehand, but for reasons you can't quite fathom you love it so much you can't properly articulate? When you try to string some nonsensical words together </span><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">people look at you funny </span></b><span style="font-weight: normal;">and quietly ponder the possibilities for your behaviour, such as falling on your head as a child or exposure to the Ebola virus.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xsas87lRJ3k/UFhPE_6d2rI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OwS9_jx8CS0/s1600/IMG_1131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xsas87lRJ3k/UFhPE_6d2rI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OwS9_jx8CS0/s640/IMG_1131.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kowloon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">I want to tell you about how awesome Hong Kong is, but that's the problem I have right now. If I could I'd jump up and down like an overly excited chimpanzee and fling my own poop, but humans don't have the luxury of this being acceptable behaviour and quite frankly I'm concerned that it will reflect badly on Hong Kong. (And my upbringing - you're welcome Mom!) So I'll try to use only words, and no profanity which is a challenge all on it's own!</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Every person I've talked to who's been to Hong Kong went there by chance, a side quest to their main destination. Everyone loved Hong Kong and reckon it's one of their favourite places, but not one could say exactly why. And that's the magic of Hong Kong, there's something about the energy that is infectious! A friend proclaimed it to be "like New York, but with Zen". (Plus, it's a really fun word to say. Hong Kong!)<br />
<br />
Not being a "big-city-girl" I didn't think Hong Kong would charm me in the least, but in hindsight I was <strike>screwed</strike> hooked the moment my foot hit the damp side walk of Nathan Road.<br />
<br />
We stayed in Kowloon, and even though I know it's technically part of China, I didn't expect it to be so overwhelmingly...Chinese! Kowloon is more <i>authentic</i> compared to Hong Kong Island which is "sort of Chinese" wrapped in Western culture and business driven energy. For a place that has only gained it's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hong_Kong" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">independence</a> from Britain in 1997, I was stunned at how few speak English fluently, or at all. It's like they just forget.<br />
<br />
Nathan Road is one of the major roads in Kowloon, the neon-lit aorta if you will. It runs from the heart of Kowloon right down to the harbour, and it's alive with people and all kinds of stores, mainly of the clothing or electrical variety. The occasional Chinese medicine shop can also be found, recognised by it's distinctive smell and trays of dead sea creatures outside on the side walk. But other than the aforementioned, it doesn't assault the senses like any of the other Asian cities I've been to, and your feet don't stick to the side walk. In fact, it's remarkably clean! Almost irritatingly so, like that one A-type friend who's house is always spotless and tidy despite the fact that she has two toddlers; whereas I don't have any but it looks like there lives about twelve. And the whole of Hong Kong is really green for a huge city, with big trees lining the roads and shady gardens everywhere. <br />
<br />
One such quiet oasis we found is Kowloon Park, where children swim in the crystal swimming pools and groups of people practice Tai Chi. There's also runner trails and an aviary, and I caught myself thinking; "I could live here, and be happy!". Which is a first for me since it's really difficult to find a place that could measure up to home.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d9hyDVmzIUQ/UFhVhGUPX8I/AAAAAAAAACE/0GScsCHlCK0/s1600/IMG_0993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d9hyDVmzIUQ/UFhVhGUPX8I/AAAAAAAAACE/0GScsCHlCK0/s400/IMG_0993.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A really horrible picture of me. You're welcome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After recharging in Kowloon Park for about an hour I took to the streets again, my darling hubby in tow. It amazes me how patiently he can follow the multiple direction I take off in at once. Even if he's dead tired and rain drenched, and my sense of direction sucks, and my focus on something lasts only about five seconds before I run off to the next thing that draws my attention. (Ooeee, something shiny!) And not only does he put up with it and keeps a mental note of where the heck we are; he actually enjoys seeing me this childishly happy!<br />
<br />
Not even the rain, or our tiredness, or my crazy random behaviour could deter us from soaking up the Hong Kong vibe and we finally made it all the way to where Nathan Road ends in Salisbury Road. Here we found a magic glowing dome (otherwise known as the Hong Kong Space Museum), and the magnificent <a href="http://www.peninsula.com/Hong_Kong/en/default.aspx" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Peninsula Hotel</a> that was built in the 1920's. We took a stroll through the lobby, feeling utterly scruffy, and my jaw dropped at the architecture and old world charm. There's even a live quartet playing music from the gallery. It felt like walking into a different era!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PERQbn1BDBI/UFhWXcC07WI/AAAAAAAAACM/flZNfcUYwlM/s1600/DSC_0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PERQbn1BDBI/UFhWXcC07WI/AAAAAAAAACM/flZNfcUYwlM/s640/DSC_0009.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Peninsula Hotel - Hong Kong</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After sufficiently gawking at this charming piece of history, I looked back from where we came in Nathan Road that is altogether exhilarating and peaceful and maddening, and I realized for the first time; "Holy macaroon, I'm in Hong Kong!"<br />
<br />
Then this sweet man of mine, probably realizing that my brain finally fried, took me by the hand and led me around the glowing bowl that was distracting me, to a little walkway that finally came out here...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gGodLkaW3Pk/UFhKITBnRUI/AAAAAAAAABc/d7F_Pbq9-F4/s1600/DSC_0026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gGodLkaW3Pk/UFhKITBnRUI/AAAAAAAAABc/d7F_Pbq9-F4/s640/DSC_0026.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Hong Kong Island and harbour from Kowloon.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And it took my breath away! Resistance is futile, the heart wants what the heart wants, and I knew I'm madly in love with Hong Kong!<br />
<br />
Then I remembered another time I went somewhere without expecting much and came home being swept off my feet...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eF5hDOaZlKY/UFhMDWNFzwI/AAAAAAAAABk/VeVkiHmUNJk/s1600/IMG_1153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eF5hDOaZlKY/UFhMDWNFzwI/AAAAAAAAABk/VeVkiHmUNJk/s400/IMG_1153.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite person in my favourite place.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Resistance truly is futile.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-546616445163944951.post-40788239920659384962012-09-14T20:41:00.001+02:002012-10-01T13:00:33.584+02:00Number one for "number one"<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For my very first blog post I was going to write about my favourite trip to date, and it was going well and I had really good intentions. Then I came off the high of proverbial digital ink, that's why this post has nothing to do with my travel experiences and more to do with life experience...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XNPQHkGJ5_g/UGl3jlgXY1I/AAAAAAAAAEo/vRQKW0dVtvI/s1600/IMG_1906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XNPQHkGJ5_g/UGl3jlgXY1I/AAAAAAAAAEo/vRQKW0dVtvI/s400/IMG_1906.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't forget the white gold!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bush-pee like a boss!</b></span></h3>
Men have it so
easy when it comes to this specific topic for obvious reasons,
regardless of the fact that you now get a <a href="http://www.gizmowatch.com/entry/standing-tall-gadgets-that-allow-women-to-pee-like-men/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">device</a> that allows for
women to stand up and pee(what?!). By no means am I claiming to be a
pro but if you grew up in Africa like I did, somewhere at some random
time and place you would have had to do your business in the wild...
more times than you would like to disclose. Whether it's the actual
“wild” where you could encounter any number of dangerous animals;
the side of the road on an infinitely long stretch between
civilisation; or any public toilet anywhere, ever. It's a basic
survival skill a girl must learn at some point, mainly because you
don't have a choice and hopefully before it's too late!<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I remember fondly
my first uncomfortable and outrageously funny encounter with a girl
that didn't know how to pee in the bush. (For all that is good and
decent woman, you live in Africa, did your mother not teach you
ANYthing!) Good natured I offer to take her sister and herself,
almost like taking your dog, because they were frantically hopping
around and genuinely looked scared for their lives.
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
We weren't in the
wild African bush where a lion could devour you once your pants hit
your ankles! (Not likely to happen anyway, but I guess it's still a
possibility.) We were waiting at a checkpoint in a tree plantation
for one of my brother's cross-country marathon events... or something
to that extent, I don't know. (I don't really run, unless something
is chasing me. It's pointless. And you just look stupid.)</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For a girl who is
on the verge of a complete meltdown because she had to do her
business out in nature, she insisted on taking a path into the
plantation a kilometre away and a further 200 meter into the thicket.
This significantly upped the risk of encountering snakes, badgers or bush pigs but
she felt we needed to get as far away from any human that could
potentially help us should we actually stumble upon a black mamba.
But whatever, it's her ass on the line, literally.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After a few failed
attempts to find the right spot, and I guess what you could call
“stage fright”, she finally took the plunge... and despite my
warnings and later hysterical laughter (I'm kind of an a-hole), not
one drop fell on the ground. It all ended up pooling in her pants.
Lets just say it was a long and wet trek back down the hill. Mission
failed.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
More recently I
paid absurd amounts of money for a luxury safari and ended up
squatting behind shrubbery anyway! My hubby and I spent a glorious
weekend at a luxury private game reserve where we were grouped with a
lovely Thai couple for the game drives. Since bush-peeing is more a
two-man endeavour (it's of the utmost importance that someone keeps a
look-out), the Thai girl and myself took on this excursion together.
It's really awkward if you don't know your bush-peeing partner. And a
one horned giraffe was staring at us which made it even more
uncomfortable. Now every time I remember her, I think of the
unnaturally loud slush it made as her pee hit the ground. Not even a
Serengeti stampede could drown that out. (Is this getting a little
too graphic?) She also took toilet paper, which just pissed me off
since you're not supposed to for a “number one”. Unnecessarily
spoiling the natural habitat, and also because I didn't think to take
any myself!</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Here are a few
lessons I've learned about bush-peeing:</b></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>#1</b> <span style="font-style: normal;">If
it's your first go at it, don't wait till your eyes get watery, cause
then you're under pressure to perform and all kinds of things could
go wrong.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#2</b>
The skill of bush-peeing should preferably be taught to you by your
mother or close relative... or just use your head.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#3</b>
You shouldn't be too far away from the ranger or your group. Choose a
spot that's private but not completely secluded. Far away enough so
they can't hear you pee, but close enough so they'll hear you scream.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#4</b>
If it's dark take a flash light or you could walk yourself right off
a cliff like I almost did. Or step in poo, either way it could end up
all sorts of nasty.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#5</b>
In the wild you're not supposed to leave anything behind, so if
you're not planning on bagging your used TP, airing out is the way
to go. Or you could turn to mother nature herself, but beware of
grabbing just any old leaf, unless you're OK with itchy nether
regions. </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#6</b>
Never go alone, someone should always keep a look out. Preferably
someone you know and trust. Someone who won't blog about it afterwards.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#7</b>
If your partner tells you your peeing in your pants, just listen to
her!</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><b>#8</b>
Watching someone bush-pee in their pants is really funny. Just be
sure not to wet your own.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I've also found my
African bush-peeing skills come in handy at public toilets...
especially the ones on an air plane a few hours into the flight. And
Amsterdam, cause that was just nasty. And the unfortunate ablution
situation I encountered in Hong Kong, the dreaded “squatty potty”.</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0