感恩节

感恩节是一个团聚传统的节日。在我的家里，我们一般吃很多感恩节传统的菜，然后每个人说他要感谢什么。

在衣食住行方面，我感到很满意。在世界上，有很多贫困的人，住在荒凉的地方。 有的人吃不饱，一碗米饭意味着一日三餐。我很担心他们，因为他们可怜的情况。好在，我丰衣足食。

我也很感谢我的健康状况.从我的角度，健康弥足珍贵。去年，我差点儿退出大学，因为我的健康问题。现在我放心我的健康没有很大的问题。

我也很感谢我受到的教育。有的时候我忙不过来所以我的功课落后. 可是我的老师别提多热心，总是帮助我学习。我也很感谢我有这个机会来中国。富布赖特的竞争很激烈，别的不说，就说如果没有别人的帮助，我根本不可能获得参与富布赖特项目的机会。

我当然很感谢我的家人。小的时候，我的父母给我换尿布，围着我转.他们又是给我请很好的家教，又是为我的成长发愁。

最后，我感谢我的朋友们。我现在住在离我的家人很远的国家，所以我的朋友是我新的家人。我的朋友很好，如果可以的话，对他们，我真想夸个没够。当生活困难的时候，我的朋友很有人情味儿，和他们相处可以帮助我减轻生活的负担。患难见真情！ 今天我满怀感激，因为我的生活如此美好！

Airpocalypse in Harbin

Last week, Harbin’s API reached levels forty times above the safe level recommended by the World Health Organization. What does this mean for students studying at CET Harbin? Luckily, last week many of us were traveling for our fall break, but our teachers, friends and a few unlucky students were trapped in the city during Harbin’s “airpocalypse”.  One Harbin resident said he hasn’t seen pollution like this in his thirty years of living here.

The “Airpolcalypse” in Harbin made international media headlines, and many of my friends and family sent me alarmed and concerned messages. I was grateful to be out of the country for the worst part of the smog crisis, but even though the worst pollution has subsided, Harbin’s pollution problems are far from over. I was shocked that when I stepped off the plane in Harbin I was welcomed by a hazy sky that dimmed the sun and thick, cough-inducing smog. After receiving messages from my friends that the pollution disaster in Harbin was over, this is not what I expected. Pollution here is a relative term. If you can see the person you are talking to, then it’s a good day.

But beyond the undeniable scientific evidence that the smog in Harbin is still a serious health hazard to its 10 million residents, the deteriorating health of some CET students is further proof of the severity of the situation. One CET student who was planning on studying here for two semesters is considering moving to a different city in China in order to avoid the breathing problems and chest pain he is experiencing. We have also stopped exercising outdoors, and being late is now not only a threat to your attendance grade, but to the long-term health of your lungs! I ran to the subway yesterday, only to spend the rest of the evening coughing like a smoker.

The most frustrating aspect of the situation is the lack of discussion or action regarding the incredible environmental and health consequences of such unprecedented levels of pollution. Most Harbin residents that I’ve talked to simply don’t feel like there is anything that can be done to resolve the problem and even the Harbin Institute of Technology Green Union mentioned nothing about the smog issues during their weekly meeting.

I think what Harbin needs right now is a heavy dose of sixties, hippie-style environmental activism. Hopefully, the heavy international media coverage will put pressure on Chinese lawmaker to take some serious actions against China’s growing pollution problems. And if you know anyone studying at CET-Harbin, you should definitely put an air filter in their next care package!

Black Bike Ring of China

Three days into the CET language program, I was ready for a bike. After asking numerous teachers, the dorm RA, and an elderly bike repair 师傅, fellow classmate Lydia马丽恬 and I were ready to explore the second-hand bike market of Harbin. A thirty minute walk to He Xing Road 和兴路 brought us upon two used bikes- they were beautiful. But a mandatory CET meeting that same afternoon forced us to make a hard decision; clutch onto our wallets and walk back to campus. If China has taught me anything, it is to never put time constraints on making a purchase. This is coming from someone who has made some pricey purchases in the past because their flight was the next morning and they were in a rush to finish gift shopping…

But we were back to bike shopping! The first weekend had past at Harbin Institute of Technology (哈尔滨工业大学) and we had made it to Guxiang (the red circled area on the map above). Bikes, bikes, glorious bikes!That day I dropped a hefty $15 dollars, an adventurous investment.

Biking back to campus, I realized the bike markets of China really need a double take. At first glance the set-up seems to be nothing more than an old man/woman selling eight crummy bikes on the side of the street, but there’s a humorous and bittersweet market cycle behind it. Often called the “Black Bike Ring,” some second-hand bike markets have sellers standing on bridges or overpasses daily, whispering “买车” (“selling bikes”) to passer-byers. The accepted fact among locals is that most, if not all second hand bike stock are obtained though questionable means- they’re stolen. One of the CET teachers relayed a story of a local who bought a second hand bike only to be stopped by a furious stranger who recognized the bike as their own. As a precaution to what I still feel is a very UNLIKELY situation, I chose a bike commonly seen being ridden throughout the streets of Harbin.

It’s a karma-like circle. These bikes are the cheapest to buy, selling around 100 to 200 RMB (17 to 25 U.S. dollars) but there worn exterior makes them great second-hand bike stock- who would recognize them? There is no doubt in my mind that the bike I own now had a wonderful owner in its earlier days, and I empathize with the heart-clenching feeling they felt finding only a broken chain where they had last left their bike. I will feel the same way when it comes time for my bike to return the second-hand street market; I just hope it happens during winter.

-Ma

Welcome to Ha-er-bin

I just realized that I’ve already lived in Harbin for over two months and I never actually explained on my blog where I live or what I’m doing. So here’s a little intro!

Welcome to Harbin, my cold, mid-size Chinese village home. And by mid-size Chinese village I meet 10 million people. Harbin is known for two things: a really cool Ice Festival and a Siberian Tiger park. So if you want to be scared and cold at the same time, I got you covered.

Harbin is also known for its large Russian influence, which I will explain in GREAT Fulbright-esq detail once I post my first ever research video at the end of the semester! Woohoo! Another reason Harbin wins is because it has very standard sounding Chinese. This is a BIG deal. China has many different types of Chinese, and foreigners basically can’t understand any of them. That’s why CET, our language program, decided to establish one of its intensive language programs here. Intensive is an understatement. Not only are our classes really small (one-on-one, one-on-two, etc.), but we aren’t allowed to speak any English. EVER. Or you are sent home. 马上.The funny thing is, since we have to talk to each other in Chinese and our Chinese is really bad, we can speak to each other and Chinese people won’t understand what we are saying. Ha. Secret Chinese-with-an-American-accent language. Win.

Other than our full time jobs of trying to not die while memorized close to one hundred characters a week, we spend a lot of time eating. You can easily eat here for a dollar a meal, and it’s great for practicing saying things like “that one please”, and “is that dog or actual meat”? That’s how we justify eating way more than would be considered healthy even by American standards.

Although China is generally cheap and awesome, let me dispel one myth right now. Chinese clothing is NOT cheap. It’s expensive and also the fashion is really…interesting. Lots of unnecessary bows. So if you are coming to China, buy all the clothes you need before you come but leave you ramen at home. China wins at Ramen. Sorry Cup Noodle.

Although the recent international news coverage of Harbin’s air pollution problems may discourage many of you from coming to visit me, the Chinese government promised us it will only last about a month. And since the government said it, it’s definitely true. So by the time the Ice Festival rolls around you can all come visit me and we can go feed a couple goats to some tigers and play on life size ice statues of the Great Wall.  行?

My thoughts on...making a fool of myself to learn Chinese

How far will I go to improve my Chinese? 

How about hopping around in a potato sack in from of a hundred of my Chinese classmates :) 

At the Harbin Institute of Technology (HIT) the process of joining a student organization is not for the faint of heart. Based on my experience in the US, joining a student organization involves adding your name to an email list and attending a mass meeting during the first week of classes. Not at HIT. If you can figure out which club does which activity at the massive exhibition of passionate club leaders explaining their goals and missions in rapid fire Chinese, you schedule yourself for a series of interviews where the clubs will decide which students have the appropriate qualifications to help their club succeed. Like everything in China, there are always many more applicants then spots. It felt like I definitely should have brought my resume.

I decided to go with Latin dance and the HIT Green Union. Dancer and Hippies, how intense could it be? Wrong. Let’s start with the Dance team. At my home University, The University of Michigan, our dance team starts every semester with a massive BBQ and a series of free lessons where we try to make dancing seem as fun as humanly possible. We try not to scare anyone away by overwhelming then with the technical material that is essential to succeeding as a competitive dancer. The HIT Latin Dance Association took a very different approach. Our first meeting was a three-hour lesson during which we analyzed and drilled fundamental rumba technique. No music, no dancing with partners, just intense focus on foot position hip rotation and spine alignment. The teacher lectured us on the importance of dedicated practice and attention to detail. Then he lined us up and we critiqued each other’s technique. The attitude towards criticism in China is completely different from the US. For example, telling the person across from you in class that his rumba walks look completely weird and wrong is considered helpful rather than rude. This was definitely not the Latin dance party I was expecting, but also explains why Chinese dancers have ridiculously amazing technique.

The Green Union, an even more formal organization than the Latin Dance Team, not only has seven different sections, but a grueling and competitive set of interviews for those interesting in joining. This is very different from my experience at the University of Michigan Student Sustainability Initiative, where we were constantly revamping our recruitments strategies and bribing new students with free food and promises of instant best friends. I chose to interview for the elementary school teaching section of the Green Union, since this would allow me to integrate with the local Harbin community. The first interview consisted of a panel of six board members drilling me about my experience with student environmental organizations and my ideas for successful teaching methods and classroom activities. This sounds completely manageable until you remember that a month ago I could barely introduce myself in. My Chinese is very basic, so the interview was a delicate game of trying to guess what they were asking and pairing it with any relevant vocabulary I could remember from class. There were definitely several questions that went completely over my head, but unlike Americans who like to avoid letting the awkward foreigner stumble over the same question for five minutes, these students just kept going with the same question until I answered something that somewhat satisfied their requirements.

Next, they gave me ten minutes to prepare a ten-minute mock lesson including a presentation, discussion questions and a game. No pressure, just a bunch of Chinese kids waiting for you to mess up. I then had to teach this lesson to the whole executive board which consisted of about twenty pair of eyes insensibly following my every move. As if this wasn’t giving me grey hairs already, they thoroughly evaluated and discussed my strengths and weaknesses directly following the lesson. They also asked me to do a self-evaluation, so here it it. Pros: I’m still alive. Cons: This would be a lot easier if I actually understood what was going on. Again, like the Latin Dance Team, what struck me most about the Green Union was their direct approach to criticism and unwavering dedication to quality and thoroughness.

So why join a club in the first place, when our foreign student program already offers us a full schedule of way too much homework, wonderful cultural activities and extra curricular classes? I would say the biggest reason to join is to take everything our teachers have taught us and put it to the test. Our Chinese roommates and teachers are wonderful, but they are also experts in understanding butchered Chinese, saying things in multiple different ways until you understand it and being patient. People will speak quickly, with incomprehensible Southern accents (if you were a foreigner in the US, would you understand a Texan??), and ask you rapid fire questions that will make you want to run as far away as possible and/or cry. Also, there’s nothing like teaching kids for improving your language skills. I can’t wait to see what they think of my American accent.

Focused Green Union peeps trying to win an important race 

What is my advice to foreign students around the world who might want to try joining a student organization at their local university? If you’re like me, and have very little experience in the local language then there will be many many many difficult moments where you have absolutely no idea what is going on. But this is a wonderful thing for your language level. Simply being immersed in the language and the culture is going to increase your cultural and language comprehension much faster than even the most efficient afternoon of studying in your room. If you do decide to supplement your study abroad experience with student organizations, do it with an unwavering sense of humor. This is the most important tool you can use. See the video above of me jumping around in a potato sack at the Green Union Sports Competition as an example. Do I look ridiculous? Yes. Am I the only person in the whole club who isn’t magically amazing at jump roping tricks? Also yes.  At the end of the day, no matter how seriously everyone takes it, it’s just a club.

Bangkok Take 2: Bittersweet, Spicy, Savory and Delicious

Our last two days on the trip in Bangkok were definitely bittersweet. The sweet was all the unbelievable food we ate, riding elephants and a Thailand-UM reunion, and the bitter was that this marks the end of our trip, and a sad goodbye to the most amazing travel companion I could have asked for. But let’s start with the sweet (and spicy/savory/any flavor you can imagine).

Thai food isn’t internationally famous for no reason. Within the span of 48 hours, we consumed a greater variety of food than I probably have eaten in my whole life up until that point. Here are some highlights:

Bird Nest Soup:

Why would any one purposely spend money on eating bird saliva? And why is there even a market for this. Um…because it’s ridiculously delicious. And bragging right. Because I ate a bird’s nest today, what did you do?

Food from A Boat:

Why would you eat food from a restaurant when you could eat it from a boat? We went to the Floating Market and they sold everything you can think of on little boats. People were frying meat, stir frying things and even selling bubble tea. I don’t understand how you can be eighty years old, making pad Thai AND rowing around while not capsizing, but hey, better than playing Bingo on Thursdays?

Fruit that doesn’t look like fruit:

I think it’s a secret strategy so that other people won’t steal their fruit, but nothing we ate initially looked edible. I guess if you were interested in eating a tiny red porcupine, balls on a stick that look like they belong in the massage room or a dirty dark purple tomato, then you might have bought it on your own. We were lucky enough to have our friend and host-with-the-most Ta, who bought some of every weird fruit we ran across and gave us free tutorials on how to open/eat them. I really don’t think Marco and I would have even been able to access the fruit without him, much less know which part is edible. I also now understand why Asians are so skinny. I eat a fudge brownie sundae, you eat a ridiculously delicious and probably really healthy guava fruit.

Pant size increasing “toast”:

Then again, if you make it a habit to eat the Japanese-style toast/mountain of amazingess, you may score more on par with the sundae. Why put jam on your toast when you could fry it in butter, soak it in honey, put powdered sugar on top and then eat it with a side of ice cream, whipped cream and bananas? Just imagine the ones that the non-allergic to chocolate people ate. I spared you and didn’t post those pictures because I’m pretty sure it would make you go buy like three bars of Godiva to make yourself feel better that you can’t have it.

Thai Coffee:

I’ve been holding a coffee competition between every country we visited/giving myself an excuse to drink coffee all the time. I couldn’t find Thai coffee anywhere (is that a bad sign?), but on our last night Ta decisively decided he would find me Thai coffee no matter how many illegal coveted Saturday night parking spots we had to find. We did end up finding some authentic Thai coffee and it was definitely worth the wait. It was earthy, icy and delicious. But Singapore still wins. Why? Because Singapore always wins. JK. Singapore coffee is rich just like its citizens and I may need to start illegally exporting it. I’m definitely not looking forward to trying to find quality coffee in a county that’s famous for tea.

And now for the bitter. Three weeks seems like a long time. But it flew by like the blink of an eye, where you catch a quick glimpse of something amazing and then it’s gone. I am so grateful that my life allows me to travel. We saw beautiful things, horrific things and everything in between. Southeast Asia is the perfect place to learn, to be lost and to have your eyes opened to a world you can’t imagine from sitting on your cozy couch at home watching the travel channel. The people are generous, warm, open and curious and the cultures and diverse and rich.

Our trip wouldn’t have been the same without the people who opened up their homes to us. The generosity of our hosts was humbling and gave me a new faith in humanity. Our purpose on this earth is to help each other and learn from each other. We experienced that from every person who lent us a couch, a phone or advice about how to not end up in a super dangerous part of the city late at night and die. Ok that’s an extreme example but it definitely happened.

Another thing that you need when you travel is a good companion. My companion was patient, open-minded, adventurous, loving and full of lots of great skills such as not being a total fail at any sort of navigation (let’s not forget the road trip from Maine to Ann Arbor where we accidentally drove to Cape Cod), and street smarts that you probably could never learn growing up in 300 person German village or hanging out in sketchy places like Burns Park.

So yes, Bangkok was delicious and sad all at once. And it’s surprisingly hard to prep yourself for moving to a radically new culture after three weeks of intense experiences that exhaust every one of your senses. The support from home helps more than I can say. The quick skype calls, the facebook chats, the e-mails and your comments all make feel like even though I’m slightly terrified of leaving home for a year to live in a country where I don’t speak the language, may or may not eat a dog on accident and probably won’t be able to buy shoes in my size, I have a wonderful place and wonderful people to go home to. My Dad always says the best part of traveling is coming home. But this is just the beginning. I have some serious character deciphering, learning-how-to-not-offend-authority and buying of long underwear to do. For better or for worse, this blog is going to change from exciting, weird and crazy things that happen while traveling to “Did I think about what would happen if I actually GOT the Fulbright?!? : Stories of while girl and trying to prepare for inevitable Chinese world domination”.  That being said, the views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the US Department of State or any of its partner organizations. At least I hope not. It would be pretty weird if the State Department had an irrational obsession with motorbikes and thought it was a good idea to take a thirty hour ferry rather than a two hour flight from Singapore to Jakarta.

Thanks for reading and see you in China!

Bali: Bread Pit (Brad Pitt) in Tropical Paradise

I was really dreading going to Bali. First of all we arriving in the middle of the night and staying near a prison (is that safer because everyone’s locked up? Or more dangerous because it’s probably in a bad neighborhood?  I couldn’t decide), and secondly because Bali has a reputation for being one big, beautiful tourist trap.  And tourist traps are the worst thing ever when you are trying to have an authentic cultural experience. But within five minutes on the island I realized how wrong I was. Bali is a tropical paradise that’s affordable. I still can’t believe that on our meager student budgets Marco and I were able to go to a place like this. I guess I just associate beautiful beaches and turquoise waters with rich spoiled people. The Balinese people are friendly and easygoing and somehow the magic of Bali even put all the tourists in a great mood. And as if playing in the crazy huge waves and taking long walks on the beach at sunset wasn’t enough, I learned to ride a motorbike! I did drive into a ditch and almost kill myself, but other than that is was completely awesome. Marco was rightfully scared for his life every time we rode (I think my awful gear shifting probably didn’t help), but hey, YOLO!!! Did I really just write that?!?! Haha. America withdrawal.

We also met the most amazing person in Bali. Our host, Peter James moved to Bali from Java to work for Blackberry. Not only does he get paid to play games and has like three free phones, but he told us unbelievable stories about how he got where he is today. Peter ran away from his orphanage at age 7 and grew up on the streets homeless and without a family. He didn’t ever give up on himself and started baking and selling bread after he found a book on bread making. But he didn’t stop there. He taught himself to sing and supported himself by working as a street musician. His passion for music helped him learn English, just by listening and repeating the lyrics. In Jakarta, Peter opened his own bakery and spent all of his free time as a volunteer teacher for refugees.

Now, some years later, he hosts travelers through couchsurfing and is saving up to hitchhike to Germany. He’s planning on opening a bakery called Bread Pit (he has a great sense of humor) where the second floor is free lodging for backpackers and the first floor is a bakery where the backpackers can volunteer. Although the beaches and scenery in Bali were memorizing, Peter is the true gem of Bali. He is the most generous person I have ever met and shares absolutely everything he owns: his room, his motorbike, his love for Bali, his stories and his huge heart.

Relaxing day at the beach

Marco playing in the waves

Surabaya/Mojokerto: Playing Twister on the Bus

The train to Surabaya was full because of a Indonesian holiday (when will it end!?!). So we took the bus, which is probably the worst idea we’ve had. But we had no other choice, and thus started our nine hours of crammed craziness. People filled the isles, the stairs and every space in between. Finding somewhere to hold on was like a giant game of twister: right hand on this random person's leg, left foot snuggly between the kid sitting on the floor and that old lady's five bags of groceries. We crept through stop and go traffic for miles of darkness. We didn’t realize that our host had gone home for the holiday, so instead of getting off at the last stop and a big city, we were armed with instructions in Indonesian, which we rattled off to anyone in the vicinity hoping someone had an idea of where we needed to get off. Food vendors and musicians squeezed through the isles like mice under doors to earn an extra few cents. (Note to self: The things that looks like delicious vanilla cookies are actually tofu and NOT a great idea for a jerky nine hour bus ride. Next time, bring your own snacks!). We frantically tried to calculate when exactly we would get to the “Mertex” factory that was supposedly near Martin’s house. Luckily a kind Indonesian guy who was basically sitting on my lap since there were so many people in the isle, called Martin and told him to meet us at the factory. We somehow made it to the front of the bus despite our huge backpacks and lack of experience pushing people. The bus dropped us at a random stretch of highway and sped on without a blink of an eye.

We were about to panic, when Martin jumped out of nowhere with a huge smile of relief on his face. Apparently he had been waiting for two hours and had told the local police to call him if they saw two tourists (evidence that we were the only tourists for miles in this area).

Martin's mom spent forever brushing her hair for this picture...just to cover it with her headscarf. There are certain things I will never understand about Indonesia :) 

Martin lived with his mother in a small house joined to at least five other houses filled with relatives of all sorts. The roosters that roamed freely around the house woke everyone at 5 am for prayer, and a three-course breakfast was waiting for us when we awoke. I’ve never eaten so much for breakfast in my life (rice, stew, fried chicken, potatoes, cakes, banana chips), and still Martin’s mother sent us with a huge bag of goodies for the road. After so many big cities, it was wonderful to stay in a more provincial area. But nomads that we are, we hopped on a bus the next morning to continue our journey to the small volcanic island of Bali. It’s hard to believe we have less than a week left!

Dessert course during breakfast freshly baked by Martin's aunt

Jogja: Motorcycle Romance

The train to Yogyakarta (“Jogja” for short), was a breeze (but not as breezy? lol) compared to the ferry. We sang Bob Marley songs with our new friend Didit, and got at least an hour’s worth of Indonesian lessons from the whole compartment. One of the best things about Indonesia is that the people are very friendly and involved. If you ask one person a question, two or three more people are likely to join in and help you figure out the answer. Even if don't speak Indonesian and then have no idea what the answer means! The view on this stretch was breathtaking, with small villages tucked in the countryside and miles of rainforest, rivers and rice patties. The trip would have been perfect if Marco hadn’t convinced me the “Beef Steak” we at in the Café Car was probably rat. Thank Marco. Now I can never eat beefsteak again.

We reached Jogja late that night, but easily found our host at a McDonals in a fancy, modern mall. I never thought I’d say this, but it was actually nice to eat French Fries and a burger. A little taste of home. It’s weird how a regular McDonalds feels like a fancy restaurant after eating from carts on the street and boxes on the train for a week.

We were Irfand’s first couchsurfers, and he brought along two of his friends a moral support to meet us. (For those of you who don't know, couchsurfing is a website for travelers to connect and find places to sleep. It's an amazing way to meet awesome open-minded people and I highly recommend it). We understood that he was giving us a ride home rather than taking the bus. What got lost in translating is that the ride was on the back of his moped. Imagine our surprise when he told us to hop on, luggage and all! After the first minute of gripping onto Irfand for dear life and trying not to think about all the statistics I heard about mopeds at the Fulbright orientation, it was a wonderfully freeing way to see the city at night. I completely fell in love with motorbikes and I'm now irreversibly addicted to zooming through Southeast Asia with the warm night breeze whipping through my hair. I'm pretty sure my mother will not approve of this newfound motorcycle romance. But it's too late. I'm in love. 

We wound through narrow streets and residential neighborhoods far from the tourist areas. Irfand lives in a small room tucked into a tiny urban neighborhood and slept on a blanket on the floor so we could have a bed. The three of us took up the entire floor space, and it was incredibly humbling to receive such generosity from a student with such a small space. He went above and beyond to make sure we got the right bus tickets and even called our next couchsurfing host Martin to make sure we knew how to get there. The two of them spent so much time on the phone organizing our transport, that they have gotten to know each other and decided to travel together! Couchsurfing is so much more than saving $10 on a hostel. Getting to know Irfand and having him as our host completely changed our experience in Jogja. We got to see student life in Indonesia, and felt deeply enriched by our cultural exchange with him. Oh and I made a random video of us eating on the street with a band playing Beatles in the background. I sang along to the delight of the band and the dismay of Marco :P

Riding a Motorbike: Now I can die happy

We spent our one day in Jogja at the archeological site of the Prambanan Temples just outside of the city. Although the temples were beautiful and the history of the site was fascinating, the swarms of tourists and overpriced tickets made us even more grateful that the majority of our trip has been spent getting to know Southeast Asia through its people and its dirty and real neighborhoods rather than tourist sites filled with German retirees in visors and spoiled backpackers. It was quite a confidence boost to pose for a million pictures with random people though! 

Why did this woman want her kids to have a picture with us? I will never understand....

Fancy old Temple! Can you imagine this as your house/yard? Crazy

Changi International Airport Wonderland

A seven-hour layover from 11 pm to 6 am? Worst thing ever? Wrong. Welcome to Changi International Airport Wonderland in Singapore. I have never had more fun pulling an all nighter. I’m not sure where exactly where Singapore got all the money for this airport, but I’m pretty sure if they sold entrance tickets, people would buy them. I know I definitely would. Let me tell you why. First of all, Changi has eight gardens: Butterfly Garden, Fern Garden, Orchid Garden, Garden, Cactus Garden, Piazza Garden, Sculpture Tree Garden and Lily Pad Garden.



This made my inner hippie extremely happy, and any airport that needs a separate map for it’s gardens get like a million green stars in my book. And in case you are a bit sore from traveling on trains and sleeping on ferries for three weeks, there are free foot massages in every single hallway. You couldn’t avoid them even if you had severe foot massage phobia.

The shopping felt like you were in NYC, but I didn’t care about that at all, especially since I have three flights coming up where I was trying to not only check a bag at least 5 kg overweight, but also board with three carry-ons (Thanks Malin! Your method of stuffing several bags in a trash bag and counting it as one carry on really worked! Although I did get some funny looks from fancy Singaporean ladies). Anyways, after a dinner where we literally had our choice of at least twenty types of cuisine, a lovely stroll in the sunflower garden and several foot massages, Marco and I headed to the movie theater for a free movie. Because of course airports have free movie theaters. Come on DTW, get it together! I’m not even sure how it’s possible to not have enough time on a 7 hour layover, but Marco and I were having so much fun we almost missed our flight. And we didn’t even get to try out the video game station (not that I would ever do this), send free e-postcards or go for a dip in the pool. #firstworldproblems

Jakarta: 50 Cents Saved My Life

After we finally reached land, our Romanian friend Alex made it his personal mission to find a taxi that would charge us a fair price. Easier said than done at midnight in Jakarta. He used his Eastern European strong-arming skills to get us a taxi for only double the normal price (usually it’s about 4 x local price for tourists). This was fine for Alex and Lauren who had a handy map to track where the taxi was taking us, and less fine for Marco and me who were stuck with a mad taxi driver after they got dropped off.

Jakarta is not a friendly city late at night, and prostitutes lines the streets as our taxi drove us through questionable and scary neighborhoods. Our hearts stopped as our driver started speeding down a road in the wrong direction after what seemed like at least ten minutes longer than the ride was supposed to take. My phone was completely out of money, but that didn’t stop me from making an angry and assertive fake phone call, rattling off the taxis ID number and whatever street signs I could make out. I prayed to Allah, Buddha and all the Hindu gods I could remember from the Asian cultural museum since I wasn’t exactly sure whose district we were in. The driver ignored our pleas to stop the car or call our couchsurfing host and we’re still not sure if he was hard of hearing or was planning on turning us in for tourist prize money. Marco finally violently tapped him on the arm and he stopped the car and begrudgingly called our host to get better directions. I held my breath for the next ten minutes and grabbed Marco’s hand tightly—especially when he stopped in a dark alley and left the car for what seemed like eternity without any explanation. It turns out he was calling our host Ira, who appeared in her nightgown and white headscarf like a goddess sent to save us. We gave the driver his fare and then gave him an extra 5000 rupiah (50 cents). We said thank you, but our faces said “this tip is for not killing us or giving up when we got lost and dropping us in a dark alley”.

Even though we only stayed at Ira’s for one night, she was the most warm and kind host you can imagine. Even though it was 1 am, she stayed up and fed us Indonesian layer cake and hot ginger milk. We went to bed exhausted but happy to have survived the ferry and the taxi. We would have liked to spend more time with Ira in her quaint traditional Muslim neighborhood, but the next morning we were on the go again, this time to Java’s popular city of Yogyakarta.

Ira's Neighborhood (Scary at night, lovely in the daytime) 

Pulau Batam and The Ferry: Hygiene Optional

Despite everyone’s advice to fly from Singapore to Java, we decided to take the Ferry for the “experience”. The Ferry did not disappoint. It was definitely an experience. For starters, the Ferry terminal was a swelteringly hot old warehouse packed with close to a thousand people and their luggage (including giant boxes containing refrigerators, wares of all sorts and probably illegal immigrants). Of those thousand people there were four Caucasians and one Indonesian looking Peruvian. We quickly made our acquaintances with Alex and Lauren (two Romanian bankers who decided to quit their jobs and travel for a year, and Neil, an English biker who is biking around the world in four years (here is his facebook in case you don’t believe that this is a real person).

Waiting for the boat was nothing compared to boarding. We inched forward, one giant huddled mass, with suitcases on peoples heads and personal space a far-off western myth.

When Chris and I took the Trans-Siberian last summer, he referred to “platskart” (third class sleeper), as a refugee camp. The sleeping conditions on this boat brought that reference to a whole new level. The filthy, stinking boat was filled to the brim with passengers and trash, food and bugs littered the remaining corners and crevices. We quickly found out that we had bought our tickets too late to receive a bed, and were forced to scramble for floor or deck space, along with the other three hundred third class passengers who were overflow. We found a fantastic spot. And by fantastic I mean a cockroach-infested stairwell with a dirty hard floor to sleep on. And yet we felt like kings because we weren’t being rained on like the people on the deck, we had a tiny space in the wall that leaked air conditioning from the first class restaurant and were inhaling a bearable 6^th deck stench rather than the nauseating cloud of awfulness that emanated from the 4^th and 5^th deck bathrooms into the stairwells.

"Camp"

The Romanians joined us, which created quite the spectacle for the other passengers on the boat. They were both confused as to why we weren’t in first class and curious about where we came from and where we were traveling. Three adorable kids followed Marco all the way back to our “camp” and enthusiastically practiced their English and kept us entertained for hours with silliness and card games. They called us “Miss” and “Mister” and patiently helped us translated our questions into Indonesian using Marco’s translator app.

Exploring the huge boat was lots of fun as soon as I got used to the stares and smiles from everyone on board. I think I was the first Caucasian many of these people had seen. The boat came furnished with a cheesy Karaoke “bar”, a Mosque on the top deck, and a kitchen that served terrible food (rice, cabbage and a fish head for three meals in a row makes ramen seem amazing). Even though barely anyone spoke a word of English, people made a huge effort to help me get back to the “camp” when I got lost in the huge maize of stairwells and hallways and asked around for the best way to get back to the city.

Tastes even worse than it looks

Coffee in a can

The boat ride as a whole was probably one of the most disgusting experiences in my life. You know it’s bad when people go to the bathroom to pee and throw up instead because of the smell (TMI?). I’m not sure we would have made it without the China Oel (thanks Mom!). You also know it’s bad when you can have a cockroach smashing competition in your sleeping quarters. But so far, this was also the most inspiring and humbling experience of our trip. The people we shared 3^rd class with were the kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met in my life. We sat around drinking coffee out of tin cans, communicating with smiles and laughter even though we had not common language and passing the unbearable thirty hours as best we could.  I’m not sure I’d do it again because of certain…ahem…hygiene issues, but long after the stench has faded we are left with a lot of wonderful memories with our new Indonesian friends. I’m even considering teaching English after Fulbright now. For the first time in my life, I truly understand why it’s important and how much education can change people’s lives.

Singapore: Food Tourism Galore

Thosai for Breakfast

As soon as we arrived in Singapore everyone got off the train and started sprinting toward the exit as if the lion from the Singapore night Safari got loose or whoever reached the exit first got to import gum. Welcome to Singapore. We were baffled by the sight of three hundred people sprinting at once and and well...when in Singapore do as the Singaporeans do. It turns that the only prize at the end of the race was getting a slightly shorter wait in the line at immigration. Except if you forget to fill out the right form because it's your first time to Singapore. Then the sprint is just a pre-workout for all the food you're about to eat.

Our Amazing hosts!

First time I ever drank Barley...it was surprisingly good!

Other than it’s fascinating mix of Chinese, Malay and Indian cultures, the main reason to go to Singapore is to eat. Just go to the food stalls with the longest line or ask a Singaporean to choose the dishes for you (see below). We simply didn't have enough to try everything, but we tried by eating as many dishes as possible during each meal.

Singapore truly is a food tourist’s dream. I'm looking at you Chris and Moira :) We stayed at Hotel Li Hui (aka my friend’s apartment) and were completely spoiled by a night safari in the jungle, dinner with a view of the Singapore skyline and a relaxing walk in Singapore’s beautiful botanical garden.

The endless supply of hot showers, cappuccinos and a working laundry machine wasn’t bad either. Traveling in Southeast Asia will make you appreciate those things like never before. I remember when my sister Sara traveled to India she wrote us a postcard that said if a genie granted her three wishes she would wish for three showers. I've never understood that until this trip. So thank you Singapore for your modern amenities, for not fining us even though we jay walked all over the place and for a rejuvenating and literal breath of fresh air that allowed us to rest up for the thirty hour ferry journey to Indonesia (which none of our friends in Singapore believed to be legal and/or exist).