Cambodia & Borders

Our minibus to the border - with happy butterfly
decorations and smiling flowers!

Walking out of the Bangkok airport was a transition like no other - we went from clear, dry, 50F Istanbul, into the 88F, muggy, smoggy air and steel-sky of Bangkok. We met up with Lynnea at the hotel, a cool backpackers' hostel called Suk 11. We decided to leave the city the next day and head for Cambodia, as Lynnea only had a few days more on her visa in Thailand, and we had no desire to hang around in the big city.

We caught a mini bus from Bangkok to the border town of Aranyaprathet (Aran for short), where we stayed the night, intending to cross the border the next day. This particular border crossing is apparently the worst for scams, so we wanted to cross early, as it gets sketchier at night. We checked in to a pretty comfy hotel, for a whopping $5/person per night, and then went to check out the local street food.

Street food!

Eating street food in Cambodia and Thailand is quite safe, so long as you follow a few simple rules: 1) Check the kitchen - if it's pretty clean, and if the ingredients stay covered, and no sign of meat sitting around. 2) The food must be served piping hot, so you can be sure any initial bacteria was wiped out by the heat. 3) Food buffets are fine, just go early so you can ensure the food is fresh.

We stopped at a small roadside stand, a truly mobile kitchen, that made a glass-noodle soup. It was some of the most fantastic food I've ever had - and so spicy! We started bulking up on our capsaicin content in our bloodstream as another way to combat the mosquitoes. So far, so good! We have had very few bites.

Our stylish tuk-tuk

The next day, we hopped a ride on a tuk-tuk to the border. A tuk-tuk, pronounced "took-took", is a small open-air "taxi". At its very basic, it consists of a motorcycle pulling a golf-cart-esque structure behind it. They often cost a bit more than car-sized taxis because they can navigate smaller streets and thicker traffic.

Our lady tuk-tuk driver (it was unusual to see a woman driving a tuk-tuk, Lynnea told us) took us the 5km (3 miles) down the main highway towards the border checkpoint, while we bumped along, hanging onto the handles and hoping our bags wouldn't fall out into the road. The traffic increased until we could see streams of cars and loaded vehicles, and the speed slowed to a trickle. Our driver took a right at a sleek looking building, taking us around the back to a deserted gravel parking lot. A man, in a western-like long-sleeved shirt (despite the heat), immediately came out of the back of. the building.

The entrance gate to Cambodia!

"You need visa?" he inquired.

We exchanged glances. There weren't any other people around, and this guy seemed rather too eager.

"Yes, but we're going to go take a look around, we'll be back," we said, hoisting our bags. We paid the driver - 80 baht/person, or roughly $2.70 - although we felt nervous we weren't where we were supposed to be, and off we walked. A local sitting by the road helped by pointing us towards the checkpoint, and we soon began to join up with other tourist backpackers trudging in the same direction.

The traffic at the border

After that, everything ran smoothly: we were processed quickly through the Thailand exit, and then we walked across the no-man's land inbetween into the Cambodia visa office. After a little paperwork, we were herded into a low-ceilinged building next to the road, behind 50-odd other tourists, all of us shuffling very slowly towards four checkpoint windows. As we waited, we could see a myriad of strange and interesting vehicles passing in the street: trucks precariously loaded with huge plastic bags (filled with who-knows-what), a huge tall van filled with snorting pigs, many bicycles and loaded motorbikes... We were definitely not in Italy anymore.

Finally, our paperwork was done, and we caught a bus to the taxi depot. We shared a taxi with a guy from Denmark, and we drove into the Cambodian countryside, towards Siem Reap three hours away. Our destination - mystical Angkor Wat, the largest Hindu temple complex, and the largest religious monument in the world.

Does Tourist=Sucker?

The more and more I travel, the more and more I see the same things again.  So... Does being a tourist mean you have to be a sucker (pay more than others for the same goods/services)?  I've seen plenty of people who can travel the world and not break the bank, but I'm constantly reminded of all the others.

I know that people come from different "normal" budgets for how much stuff costs.  Let me give you an example, in the Eugene it takes anywhere from $7-13 dollars to buy a Thai dish at a restaurant.

Food:
Plate of food for a local 50c. (~estimate)
Plate of food for a tourist that is looking around and finding decent prices $1.50   (3 times the "real" price)
Plate of food for a tourist that doesn't care $7 (14 times the "real" price)

So,  why do people traveling let themselves spend more money than they have to for the same things?  Well there are some reasons.  Some people don't care that they are paying to much, they have plenty of money and don't need to worry about it.  For others, bargaining or finding the best prices is allot of work, and sometimes to much energy.
People who are traveling from countries that cost less than the country they came from are used to spending a certain price for things. so if they have habits for buying food for $8-15 a meal, then when they travel is still seems normal for them to spend that kind of money.
People from some other countries don't know how to negotiate to find out what the bottom price really is.
People in other places expect to negotiate for prices, and as such most things don't have price tag on them.

All these reasons combined go to sometimes propagate that a tourist can pay more than is excepted.

If you want to save some money, here are some ways to do so.  Do a little research, do a little asking, a little negotiating   A little hard work goes a long way. Perhaps one day,  tourists won't automatically have a "You a sucker?" stamped on their back.

Close Call

Have you ever missed a flight? Especially a huge, international, 11 hour-long one? I never have - I didn't even think it was possible. I am a planner, and usually before travel I am paranoid enough to check my flight details a couple times. But, on Monday, it almost happend to us - we almost missed our flight to Thailand. Somehow, we both thought our flight was on Tuesday, the 22nd - we had completely forgotten that it was a two-day flight. Our flight would leave by 3pm Monday, the 21st, and arrive in Bangkok on the 22nd, at 7am.

A gorgeous park on the edge of Bangkok -
a wonderful green relief from the city

On Monday we lazily woke up, intending to let Devlin's sore throat heal, to do laundry, and to prepare for our flight the next day. Luckily for us, Devlin got a facebook text from the friend we would be meeting in Bangkok, Lynnea, with info about the hotel she was booking. She'd accidentally booked it for Monday, she said, forgetting that we wouldn't arrive until Tuesday.

Monday? We were leaving Monday?!? Devlin told me this at about 11am on Monday - we had four hours to completely pack, pull out the laundry (that was still going in the washer), and get from the suburbs of Istanbul across town to the airport (at least a 1.5 hour trip), before our check-in counter closed (by 2pm)!

Orchids growing on a tree in the park!

It was a scramble, but we managed to do it. The wet laundry went into a bag, we hurriedly ate some of the excellent leftovers our host had made the previous night, we scribbled down instructions to the airport, and we were off. One and a half hours later, after many bus/metro bus/subway transfers, and quite a few conversations with ever-helpful and kind Turkish people as to where we needed to get off, we arrived at the airport. After that, our flight was uneventful and smooth, and we arrived in Bangkok on schedule.

As I write this, we are in Cambodia... but our journey here is another story.

The Universal Market

Our host, Yigit, at the market

In our time in Italy, and now in Istanbul, one of our favorite things has been to visit outdoor markets. It is quintessential part of the culture, and purely for the locals - you don't see tourists at an obscure neighborhood market, far away from the touristic sights, and thus you get an experience that is truly "through the back door."

Today, we visited the weekly market near our couchsurfing host, Yigit, in the suburb of Ümraniye, in Istanbul. The market only happens on Thursday, and the vendors mainly drive in with their vans, unload from them, and then reload them to go to the next market. Italy had fabulous markets, but this one today took the cake for having stupendous arrays of fresh produce and fruit, in a dazzling array, as well as spices, pickles, cheeese, sweatpants, pretzels, chestnuts...the list goes on.

A beautiful fruit display - and he's very proud of it! :)

As tourists, we stood out like sore thumbs. But, a wonderful part of couchsurfing is having an instance "in" to the culture, as well as someone who understands all the local customs, language, and business practices. We strolled up the market, maybe almost 1/4 mile long, comparing prices, while I snapped away with my picture.

A jovial cheese and olive vendor - delicious olives!!

At first I took pictures surreptitiously, not sure how the vendors would react to a foreign girl taking pictures of their daily life. However as we became more used to the market, I realized that the vendors were very open to having their picture taken - even beckoning me to take a picture while they posed and smiled. By the end of the market, I was showing the pictures I'd taken to the vendors, and they'd smile and nod proudly. For them, it was a proud experience to have their livelihood captured by my camera.

And their displays were truly fantastic, and they clearly cared a great deal about their presentation. Careful stacks of oranges, with interspersed leaves, or a pomegranate cut open to show the perfect ruby seeds, to intricate layers of shawls.

Picture-friendly leek vendors

We spent at least two hours at the market, and the time flew by. The Turkish lira is about half as much as the dollar, so we could spend .50 Turkish cents (.28 US cents) for two kilos - over two pounds - of carrots!

A young pretzel vendor

A common Turkish snack is the pretzel - there were at least three guys wheeling stacks of them up and down the market. 3 pretzels cost 1 lira (.50 cents) - covered in sesame seeds, and often still warm, they are fantastic and filling. We bought 3 lira worth, to have extras for later.

A grape leaf seller, for making dolmus

All in all, it's almost as good as going to some of the big tourist attractions - this is true Turkey, at its heart, in the daily lives of its people.

Yesterday, we visited the Grand Bazaar in the old European part of Istanbul. It is an immense warren of shops, all indoors, and it has kilometers of streets. There are entire sections devoted to leather, ceramics, etc. But today, a good portion of it is only for tourists, and the vendors there are hungry for your attention (and money). As Devlin and I weren't interested in buying anything, but just in absorbing the place, we strolled right past their loud entreaties of, "Hello, carpet?" or "Hello, please bags?"... one inventive guy even said, "Hello, bodyguard!" to Devlin, followed by, "Present for your girlfriend?" For me, I would be nervous to go in that bazaar by myself - it would be like feeding yourself to the sharks.

A shawl vendor

A pickle vendor: dolmus, cucumbers, peppers, cabbage,
and many other types I couldn't identify!

In contrast, the small local street market was a much more welcoming version. The bazaar was fun in a crazy, chaotic, in-your-face kind of way, but for me, I much preferred the quieter, low-key, non-pushy friendliness of the little market. The locals bantered back and forth with Yigit, in completely incomprehensible Turkish. Over the past 3 months in Italy, Devlin and I had become pretty competent in comprehending and speaking Italian - but after arriving in Istanbul, we are back to being true tourists - completely ignorant, and using a combination of sign language and blank/lost expressions to get by. I managed to have a couple minutes of conversation with one vendor before I had to turn to Yigit for translation help.

We will be looking forward to our next encounters with the people and culture of Turkey, and to the local markets we will enjoy when we fly to Thailand and Cambodia next Tuesday! It is hard to believe that we will be switching cultures in just a few short days' time... I am greatly enjoying Turkey, and I can say for sure that we will return again, in a warmer season, to this rich and fascinating country.

The Saga of the Shots

Our Hep A vaccine shots

Four days ago, we decided to go to Thailand. We bought our tickets and began to do research - we knew we'd need some vaccines, diarrhea medicine (just in case), and something for malaria. We learned we needed typhoid, hepatitis A, and Japanese encephalitis vaccines.

So, Monday morning, we walked into the pharmacy around the corner from our hostel, and we asked where we could go to get vaccines. The pharmacist marked the location of the Civic Hospital on our tourist map, but told us that it might be a bit difficult for us to get vaccines since we were foreigners.

Off we went that afternoon to find the hospital. We walked about 2km (over a mile and a half), past crumbling apartment complexes, piles of garbage, and over the train tracks, where we walked through a parking lot and entered an adjacent building that was marked "Ospedale" (hospital). It was a plain-looking building, more like a school, and the bottom floor was empty. No receptionist. There was a sign that said something like administration, on the 2nd floor, so up we went. Still, no receptionist. So we walked down the hallway until we found somebody. The hallway was painted in bright yellow. It was eerily empty, except for a woman in the hallway, and voices nearby.

"Siamo americani, e andiamo subito a Thailandia. Ho bisogno di vaccini," I told the lady. "We are Americans, and we are going soon to Thailand. We need vaccines."

She looked confused and summoned a few other people from nearby rooms. After putting out a cigarette, one of them, a girl about our age, pointed out the window at a tree-lined street. "Go straight, to the end, then turn left," she said in English, pointing to the right.
"A destra?" we asked. "To the right?"
"Si, a destra." (Good thing we could speak a little Italian!)

Okay then. We left the building and headed down the street. We turned at the end and entered the last building at the corner. A sign said something like "medical" so we went up until we found someone. We accosted a doctor in a hallway, and repeated our question.

"Giù! Medico immigrazione è giù, giro," he said curtly. He gestured vaguely down and made a sweeping gesture. "Down! Medical immigration is down, around."

Alrighty. At least we knew what building name to ask for. We went back downstairs and headed around the corner. We went up the stairs in that building.

"Dov'è medico immigrazione?" I asked a medical-looking person in the hallway. "Where is medical immigration?"
"E' giù, e a sinistra," they said. "Ma può essere chiuso." "It's downstairs, and to the left. But it may be closed." (It was about 3:30pm.)

At last, we found the place - a door tucked out of sight of the street, with a faded printed sign that said "Medico Immigrazione." The door was open, so we went in, surprising two nurses who were cleaning up. "Domani! A le nove a tredici. E' chiuso," they told us. "Tomorrow! From 9 to 1. We're closed." and one asked the other, "Didn't you close the door?"

So back we went the next morning, arriving about 10am. The place was just a hallway, with two benches. Some people who looked like they were from India/Africa were already there. They stared at us. We stared back. No receptionist. We stood awkwardly, waiting to see what the process was. Soon, another woman (Indian?) arrived.

"Chi è l'ultima?" she asked. "Who is the last?"  Ahh, okay. This I could understand.
"Noi siamo l'ultimo," I said. "We're the last." The line was apparently self-regulating, and somewhat by honor system. We watched as the doors off the hallway opened - people came out, and the next people went in. At one point, new arrivals managed to sneak in the door ahead of the next people, prompting a small slightly heated discussion. "Non è giusto!" we heard. "That's not fair!"

At last, it was our turn. We waited outside the door, and when it opened, we repeated our question to the man in the white coat. He looked confused, but gestured us in, saying that we would repeat our question to the doctor. Okay then. The doctor came out, a balding older man in another white coat. We repeated our statements - we needed vaccines, since we were going to Thailand.

"Why you need vaccines? Where you read?" he asked us forcefully in English, but smiling.
I tried to explain that it was recommended, both on the embassy page and others.
"Ahh, internet," he said condescendingly. "But you no need vaccines for Thailandia! I have gone, I no need them!"
I tried to tell him that we needed Hepatitis A, and that mosquitoes liked to bite us.
"Ahh, hepatitis A is no problem. You catch, it is easy to correct. No problem!" We looked worried.

The entrance to "Medico Immagrazione e Viaggi"
 among other  unknown things

At last, a female nurse took pity on us, and wrote the name of something on a strip of paper. The doctor took us to the window, and pointed outside. "You need Medico Immigrazione e Viaggi. Medical immigration and travel. Go through the parking lot, to the silver wall, then go around to the left. It is very close." He drew a rough map on the paper.

So off we went once more. We walked through the parking lot in front of the building, then turned to the right at a bent corrugated metal fence. At the street, we had clearly left the hospital campus grounds - we turned left, and 100 meters further, we saw a sign that said Medico Immigrazione on it. We turned - the entrance was a long hallway, much busier than the other places we had been. Learning from experience, we accosted the first doctor-looking person, and repeated our Thailand statements, and showed him our paper. He nodded, took the paper, and led us to a door off the hallway.

Inside was a tiny office, with one desk and a couple chairs. A lady doctor sat behind the desk, clearly in charge. The doctor who had our paper went inside, talked to her, and then went inside an adjoining room, which looked large and had a number of people in white coats standing around. Occasionally the lady at the desk would yell something in Italian towards the adjoining room.

At last, after waiting 30 minutes, we were allowed inside the inner sanctum. Three doctors and at least four student interns, all in white coats, turned their eyes to us. Needless to say, it was a bit intimidating. We told them we were going to Thailand for two months. This time, there was no arguing about needing vaccines. "You need them," they told us.

The door and hallway

Eventually, here's what we learned: they couldn't give us malaria pills, as we were going for too long a time. One type of malaria pills had to be taken daily, and caused liver damage; the second type was taken weekly, but both types caused side effects of hallucinations and depression. "Not good for travel," they said. They were going to give us an emergency type - if we had a fever, we must take 3 the first day, 2 the next, and 1 the final day. But, we only got one box, with 8 pills. (I guess only one of us will survive.) They stressed we should go to the hospital if we had any fever. "Attenzione, e vai subito." "Pay attention, and go soon if you feel any fever."

As to the other vaccines, they wrote us a prescription to get Hepatitis A, but dismissed the typhoid and Japanese encephalitis. "As long as you drink bottled water, and wash well your fruits and vegetables, you are ok," they said. Okay then.

So we returned to our neighborhood pharmacy, precious prescription in hand. The vaccines were shipped in the next day. We went back this morning - the pharmacist put the vaccines - a needle shot - into a bag.
"Come fare?" we asked. "How do we do the shot?"
"E' normale, non è una problema," he said. "It's normal, not a problem."
"Si, ma dove per fare?" we asked. "Yes, but where do we put the shot?" We gestured at a vein. Was he really going to just hand us a box with a shot and tell us to do it ourselves?
He gestured at his butt, vaguely, then pulled out the instructions in the box. He scrutinized them for several minutes, then concluded, "Deltoidi" - the shoulder region.
We tried to explain it wasn't normal to be handed a shot to do yourself in the United States - we weren't used to to this type of thing. He told us that the law didn't allow the pharmacy to administer the shot, but we could go back to the hospital where we got the prescription, and they would do it.

Okay then. There was no way we were going to give ourselves the shots. But, as luck would have it, our hostel owner has many family members who are doctors. Tomorrow, one of them will come to do the shot for us. We told him how strange it was to be handed a shot to do yourself. He said, "They'll let you have guns, but not needles in the US?" In Italy, it is nearly impossible to get a firearm legally.
------
Update on Friday:

So, we found out this morning that we would have to go back to the hospital to get the shot administered (our hostel owner's family was too busy at the hospital to have time, unfortunately). So back we went - and giro e giro (around and around, in what is becoming for us, the normal Italian way) we were pointed to "Pronto Soccorso" - emergency help. First it was 500 meters, then after 500m, it was 200m, then 150 m.... One kilometer later, we eventually ended up at the same exact set of buildings where we'd received our prescription. At the Emergency, they told us....guess what - we had to go back to the same long hallway to ask for a specific doctor...but guess what, it was closed (3 pm again), and....likely, the office was closed on Saturday.

The entrance to...the emergency room???

So back we went to the hostel - to look up on YouTube the correct procedure for administering a vaccine via intramuscular injection. With some trepidation, and after scrutinizing the video closely, we each did the vaccine for the other. And so far, four hours later, we are both alive. :P

Conclusion: the American health system may be royally screwed up, and incredibly over-priced, but the rest of the world is not necessarily that much better. The grass is always greener, eh?

Crazy Random Happenstance

How many of you believe in this?  Maybe some use other terms but this one is my favorite.  Here is a recap of our travels since our last post:

Recap:
We Traveled from the east coast of Sicily to the west coast.  We stayed with one couch surfer about 2 hours south of Palermo (big city on the north west side of Sicily ).  Then we traveled back up to Palermo.  We found a fantastic little hostel in Palermo for a bit while looking for either couch surfers and or wwoofers around this area. We have a flight to Istanbul, Turkey from Palermo on the 15th, so we are staying in this area for a little while.

So... what do we do with 13 days to kill until we fly out and nowhere else to go?  We ask the hostel owner if we can rebuild his website with current standards in exchange for a free stay.  I'll make sure to post a couple pics of the old site and the new one once it's done.  And he was so nice he gave us an entire room to ourselves!  We are so fortunate. Crazy random happenstance?

Last night a French girl came into our room by accident thinking our room # was a different one.  We didn't mind and she took a bunk.  We had a fantastic time talking with her and trading traveling stories.   It makes you realize that meeting people like this is what traveling is all about. Crazy random happenstance?

We have made plans to go to Thailand, Cambodia,and more... on the 21st of January from Istanbul to meet up with Lynnea from Eugene!  She is a Blues dancer friend of ours traveling over there right now and we are going to meet up and travel together.  Crazy random happenstance?

"We are but leaves blowing in the wind, which direction we go is a mystery, but our journey is a lifetime" -Devlin