“Absolutely!” I excitedly reply.

I have been invited to a traditional Malaysian engagement ceremony (a Majlis Tunang) and I could not be more excited. I don’t have any idea what to expect, but the prospect of participating in a truly local event — something most tourists don’t get to be a part of — has my curiosity piqued.

Luckily, Syaza has a Kebaya that is long enough to fit me.

“You look beautiful in that!” says her lovely mother as we prepare to leave the flat and head to the event.

Syaza and I wearing Kebaya

A Majlis Tunang is an elaborate Malaysian engagement ceremony that involves the giving of gifts traditionally of flowers and cakes by a representative of the groom to a representative of the bride.  This is the way in which he asks for her hand in marriage. Both sides use poetic language of love during the exchange.

I am told that typically, this type of affair only involves women, although in these modern and more progressive times, men are more likely to attend the event as well.

We walk in to see that all of the furniture has been cleared – it is typical to sit on beautiful rugs the floor.  A red couch adorned with flowers and soft pillows sits in the middle of the room.  The gifts are arranged in front, and strike me as quite beautiful and intricate.

This is just one of many ceremonies I come to understand as typical of a Malaysian marriage, which can sometimes involve two additional weeks of marriage ceremonies following the engagement (which is preceded by a pre-engagement).

Following the ceremony, everyone eats a feast of Malaysian food.

I am warmly welcomed by the bride and her family, and told to help myself to as much food as I want.  They are concerned that it may be too spicy for me, but I have no problems happily stuffing my face with biryani rice, chicken, beef, and cakes.

The beautiful bride-to-be is in the middle, with her mother and Syaza’s mother on the end.

When we are finished with the meal, the bride-t0-be’s younger sister presents us with a gift, which involves a book of Islamic prayers and small cakes.  When we leave, we take both hands of each family member, touch our head to our hands, and then bring our hands to our hearts.  Syaza’s mother explains this to me as a way of showing respect.

I felt incredibly welcomed by everyone there.  I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity to be a part of something that many tourists never get to see.

Many thanks to Syaza for inviting me.

—

As a side note, I have to say, I love how small social media has made the world.  Syaza and I initially connected months ago on Instagram (follow her feed. Her iPhone photography is truly amazing) and have been looking forward to meeting ever since. 

For someone who fancies herself an off-the-beaten path traveler, Langkawi in Malaysia would not seem like an obvious addition to the itinerary.  Given its status as a duty free shopping hub, coupled with the numerous beach resorts that dot its shores, I was a little unsure if I’d even enjoy my time there.

However, as a solo traveler, when I have a friend in close proximity, I do what I can to make our paths cross.  In this case, Victoria and I had a chance at our fourth country together, so we naturally had to make it happen.  I’m glad we did, because we both ended up enjoying Langkawi immensely.

One of the best things we did was renting a car to drive around the island, giving us an opportunity to test out the cable car, take in the amazing view, and explore some of the lesser-known beaches on the island.

The cable car, though touristy, is definitely worth the time and Ringgit.  The views of the waterfalls and jungle fauna are spectacular:

The vista from the top was equally impressive:

Wow

If not a bit cloudy and ominous by the time we left!

Rain’s a comin’!

Following the cable car adventure, the drive along Jalang Datai was probably my favorite, given the more secluded beaches. Datai beach, in particular, was completely deserted, and probably the most beautiful beach we saw:

Why isn’t anyone else here??

Then, there was the famous black sand beach.  Neither of us had ever seen black sand before, so naturally, we had to check it out:

That is, indeed, some black sand

Lastly, Cenang beach was gorgeous, with white sand and bath water-temperature water.

It turns out, even on islands that would normally seem touristy, there are still off-the-beaten path adventures to be had.

Do it yourself:

• Getting there: Air Asia offers cheap flights nearly hourly from Kuala Lumpur.  If in Georgetown/Penang, access the pier at either 8:15 or 8:30am to take the ferry across.  It takes right around 2.5 hours.
• Eat: consult the map for which night market is happening on your night of the week. Some of the best eats can be had for less than a dollar (total, for the evening) per person:

• Stay: Cenang beach, near the airport and a 15-minute car ride away from the pier, is probably the easiest area with the most options for food and car rentals. We chose Rainbow Lodge guest house which appeared to have the cheapest accommodation
• Imbibe: Babylon is a great bar during happy hour, with reggae music and beach BBQs, but the real gem is a pop-up bar just outside of a small convenience store, a short walk away on the side of the street opposite to the beach.  Walk down the sidewalk with the beach to your right and you can’t miss it
• Rent: Cars can be rented from any red T shop for 65 to 80 Ringgit (manual vs. automatic transmission)

For more videos, follow Victoria Brewood and Be My Travel Muse on the Vine iPhone app (I’d link it here but they do not yet have profile urls)! 

But something’s not right.  My mind is clouded by an ever-persistent thought:

It’s not special to me anymore and it kills me. 

I used to sit in my cubicle and dream of the days when this would be my life.  I used to think that there could be no better existence than the one on the road.  It must be different out there, I thought.  Each day could have a new possibility.  I could open up my door and who knows what I might find or decide to do?  Who knows who I might meet?

Back then, a certain someone who was special to me said, “you live in Newport Beach.  You have a cushy life.  Look at this!” he gestured towards the ocean, “People would kill to have this. There is nothing better than what we have right here and now. If you can’t be happy here, I’m not sure that you can be happy anywhere.”

Fair enough, this was paradise

It’s not that I want to go back to the cubicle days – I don’t.  When I think about returning home for good, that really doesn’t appeal to me either.  But, I’m starting to realize, it’s not so easy to maintain relationships when you’re a traveler, and when you hate being alone, like I do, it’s also not so easy to accept that.

I was supposed to use this year to get comfortable being alone, and I haven’t managed to do that.

However, to be a solo traveler means embracing all facets of the lifestyle, and that includes sometimes being alone.

I watch the amazed faces of other travelers, either on shorter trips or only just beginning.

“This is living, there’s nothing better than this,” a fellow backpacker said on Koh Phangan, taking a swig of beer and gazing out at the ocean like it was the first time he had seen it in his life.

I remember that feeling.

I still get it from time to time, but it’s truly odd how now that travel is my life, it has become commonplace, and it’s harder to be wowed by every little moment, as I once was.

“Don’t get jaded, you’re still living the dream,” said a friend of mine from home.

I know she’s right, but my brain just won’t cooperate.

Another friend said, “look how blessed you are to be traveling and doing everything you’re doing. Not many people get to do it.  It might be hard but really try not to dwell in that shit and put a damper on your travels.”

He’s right too.

What do I do now?  Do I return to the places that I loved most, do I risk the possibility of jamais vu, or do I change up the game completely?  Perhaps all I need is a change of scenery.

I wonder if, some day, the grass will no longer look greener to me somewhere else.

I suppose, until then, I’ll be wandering with a backpack on.

Upon my departure from Thailand after a combined three glorious months, the familiar mixture of unease and excitement that accompanies landing in a new country came over me.  I knew almost nothing about Malaysia, and wasn’t sure what to expect, especially after becoming so comfortable in Thailand.

So comfortable, in fact, that I am still converting Malaysian Ringgit to Thai Baht in my head rather than directly to US Dollars. 

Imagine my excitement to find that, just like my first unfamiliar days in Bangkok, I’d have someone to guide me through – James Clark.  I absolutely love it when I arrive in a town and find out that James happens to be around.  This means several things: he will know where all the best food is, will be able to suggest a great coffee shop, will know where to find the best WiFi, and will already have local transportation figured out.

In short, I can be extremely lazy about doing research or planning of any kind, which is my favorite.

I asked him what the best thing to do in Penang was (other than stuffing my face with amazing food at every possible interval), and he suggested Kek Lok Si – the largest Buddhist temple in the whole of Southeast Asia.  Given that I don’t seem to suffer the common traveler ailment of being “templed out”, even after the amazingness of Angkor Wat, Sukhothai, and the White Temple, I was excited to see what Kek Lok Si had on offer.

I was not disappointed:

*Photos are in order of how one would see these sights walking through the temple

Once upon a time, during my Taiwan days, I could have read this!

So intricate and colorful

There are 10,000 buddhas within Kek Lok Si temple

So bright and blue

Beautiful scenes on the ceiling

Prayer Ribbons

James and I elected to pick out some prayer ribbons. He selected “continuous run of wealth luck,” and I went with “success in all things.”  Doesn’t seem like too much to ask, right?

A place for monks to study

Under construction since 1890, this temple is still growing.  With main construction completed in 1905, the main pagoda that gives the temple its notoriety was completed in 1930.

The pagoda incorporates Chinese, Thai, and Burmese elements of design, giving it a unique look.

The pagoda – Ban Po That

The garden that leads to the pagoda entrance

A golden Buddha is the first of many Buddha statues inside of the pagoda

Another one of the many buddhas in the pagoda

A rather impressive view of Georgetown

The next level up, accessible by lift, features the 100-foot tall statue of Kuan Yin – Goddess of mercy.  This is where the new construction can be seen.

Riding a bull because I’m a Taurus, then realizing that I should have been on the Tiger as these were representative of Chinese horoscopes, not astrological signs.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to see her up-close, as the new construction prohibited tourists from climbing up the stairs to the statue.  This resulted in me disliking all of my photos of her, but Wikipedia does a nice job.

Guards of the goddess

Guard #2

Colorful Koi gaze at the statue

Do it Yourself: 

• The temple is located on Crane Hill in Georgetown.  If staying in Georgetown in the common backpacker area, walk to the Komtar shopping complex and hop on the #201, #203, or #204 bus (make sure it is signed Air Itam).  Fare should be around 2 Ringgit (about 60 cents) and will take around 45 minutes. 
• The bus will drop off near enough to the temple for you to see it on the hill. Follow your eyes and you’ll easily find the way.
• Entrance is free (though some things within the temple grounds require a small donation to view). The temple is open from 9am to 6pm.

I may not say it often, or enough, but you have so much to do with me living out my dreams.

You let me store everything at your house that I couldn’t bear to part with before I left on my trip.

You take care of my finances and handle my mail while I’m gone, which I’m sure must sometimes be annoying and tedious.

You flew a half a world away from home, braving long travel days and dealing with jet lag to spend a couple weeks with me in the land where everything is blue.

I just want you to know, I simply couldn’t do this without you.

When I told you I was leaving for this trip, you didn’t try to talk me out of it, you never doubted me, you simply said, “how fun!” and let me go on my way.

You always support me and for that I must say,

I simply couldn’t do this without you.

You let me live with you before I left for my trip, and back to your house I’ll always go during the months that I return to see everyone I love.  All of the support I feel from those back home, who I truly care about, has blown me away.

But most of all, the support of my family means the world to me (literally!).

On those lonely and difficult days, when everything seems to be going wrong, I’m comforted knowing that people who truly care for me will welcome me with open arms when the travel days are done.

For that, and for always, I hope you know;

There is no way, in the entire universe, without the support of a mother like you, that I could travel the world, that I could just pick up and go.

Thank you for all that you do. 

Happy Mother’s day, Mom.

Most people head to Tonsai to go rock climbing, but I had no intention of being anything near that active.  I was content to sit on the deck of Chill Out Bar with my Kindle, glancing up every now and then at the amazing view, and maybe walk to Mama’s Chicken stand every so often to stuff my face with some curry and pat myself on the back for discovering the amazing coconut milk and Oreo shake combination.

That’s when my friend Matt came to hang out and completely ruined my grand plans of idleness.

“I heard about this really cool lagoon in Railay. Want to walk over there tomorrow?” he asked.

I heard ‘walk’ and figured it would be a leisurely stroll, so I agreed.

Railay is the beach directly next to Tonsai.  I find it a bit too resorty for my tastes (read: there are not enough people with dread locks and not nearly enough Reggae music on loop), but was happy to check it out. We made the 15-minute climb over and, sweat already permeating my being, continued from Railay West to Railay East.  Following the signs, we finally stopped in front of a stake in the ground with an arrow reading, trail to lagoon. 

It was pointing straight up a muddy set of rocks with ropes dangling down – ropes that were clearly needed to scale the route to the lagoon.

I shot Matt a glance, “I suppose I’ll be climbing in Railay after all!”

It would appear we’re going to get muddy, oh and climby

“Just so you know, it’s really muddy up there” said a passer-by.  I elected to remove my shoes and my in-the-tubing tank top from Laos (I prize that thing more than a rational person should), and pronounced myself ready.

We quickly got to work climbing.

Several groups of climbers passed by us on the way down, exclaiming, “Oh! So difficult! So muddy!”

We thought surely they were messing with us.

“I didn’t make it to the lagoon. It’s pretty much vertical drop beyond the lookout point…bare footed?! You’re doing it bare footed?” exclaimed an Aussie passing us on the way down.

“Better for gripping,” I replied.  He nodded skeptically and continued on his way.

After perhaps 25 minutes or so of fairly reasonable climbing, we reached the lookout point, where it seemed most people ended their hikes and turned back for Railay:

A worthy terminal point

We stood for about five minutes to appreciate the beauty of the lookout point before turning back down the road and setting our sights on the lagoon.  We had made it this far, we were not turning back.

It turned out to be true: the trail, appearing to be something out of Jurassic Park, turned quite muddy, and became a vertical rock climb, sans gear, to the bottom.  Our tools for scaling the rock wall were our hands, bare feet, and some muddy ropes hanging from the top.

Matt was a champ.  He took each climb first then told me where to place my feet when it was my turn to head down.

Thanks for seeing to it that I didn’t fall to my doom, Matt!

We scaled four steep inclines, sometimes dangling only by a rope, before finally seeing some jade water in the distance.

The reward, unfortunately filled with sharp rocks

By the time we reached the lagoon, we decided to embrace the mud, and headed to the cave to write in mud on the walls and explore what the lagoon had to offer.

Why not, right?

The climb back up, to me, seemed a bit easier, though it did require a fair amount more upper-body strength.

I was sore the day after…and the day after that, Okay AND the day after that…

All-in-all, we were happy with our adventurousness and glad to have seen something that many tourists shied away from in an otherwise somewhat touristic Railay Beach.  Oh, and I can finally say I rock climbed in Railay.

Not to worry, I rewarded myself with doing nothing but reading books and consuming coconut milk and Oreo shakes for the rest of my Tonsai time.

Do it yourself:

• If you’re in decent physical condition without injury or ailment, then you should be fine to take on the climb.  At least some prior climbing knowledge would be helpful (I had only ever climbed a rock wall – twice, 5 years ago)
• If heading out from Tonsai, take the path to Railay West.  From there, follow the main road to Railay East, where there will be posted maps and signs indicating the route to the Lagoon and lookout point hikes
• The path to the lagoon and lookout point (pictured in the first image) is opposite a small open-air gazebo that is usually covered in monkeys
• The lagoon turn-off is a right turn slightly before the lookout point
• Proper footwear would be helpful.  I had no issue going barefooted, although Matt unfortunately cut his toe at the lagoon itself.  Tennis shoes and flip-flops will be too slick, but climbing shoes should work well
• Head out early in the day as the climb takes several hours overall
• Be prepared to get sweaty and muddy!
• Bring plenty of water to keep hydrated

*Many thanks to Matt, the Expert Vagabond, for providing the photos for this post, as well as serving as chief motivator against laziness and captain of not allowing me to fall to my death.

On the other hand, I’ve had the misfortune of ending up at Bangkok Hospital Phuket several times due to an ear infection that simply would not go away, coupled with the necessity to get a chest x-ray for my Australian visa.  I say ‘misfortune’ because nobody wants to be sick while traveling, but in reality, this is one of the cleanest, most well-run hospitals I’ve ever set foot in.   I even returned several months after the infection cleared to have my teeth cleaned there, and was again quite satisfied.

Upon entering the second floor — both the ear, nose and throat specialty floor as well as the dental office — I noticed that there was one other ward that took up the majority of the second level: the plastic surgery wing.

Really?, I thought, bargain hunting for plastic surgery? That sounds like the worst idea ever! 

Then, I arrived in Australia and watched my savings dwindle with every $10 beer, $20 salad, and $4 bottled water purchase, and began to understand.

A friend I was traveling with at the time revealed that while she was studying abroad in Australia, several of her friends had visited Phuket seeking breast augmentation, turned it into a vacation, and returned home satisfied with their new set of augmented breasts for a fraction of the price.

This had reminded me slightly of a friend from Kratie, Cambodia, who had come to Thailand to get some cosmetic dental work done after being quoted an astronomical price in Australia, and turning his dental work into an extended holiday.

It turns out that Phuket is a very popular place to have cosmetic work done, particularly Bangkok Hospital Phuket – the one I had frequented.

I decided this required a bit more research.  Though not personally interested in any surgery, I have to say, my curiosity was piqued, particularly after having felt the results myself quite by accident.

After searching message boards and reading various articles about the procedure and outcome, it would appear that cosmetic surgery abroad is only growing in popularity.  In fact, the business of cosmetic tourism in Thailand is a-booming at AUD$1 billion-a-year.  With a typical breast augmentation running around $4000 in Thailand vs. $12,000 in Australia, I can see why.

Like all plastic surgery, the reviews tend to be on the positive side, but still mixed.  There are certainly plenty of news articles warning would-be cosmetic tourists of the risks of getting work done in a foreign country.

Conversely, there is enough positive PR out there in the form of YouTube testimonial videos and TripAdvisor forum posts to make it seem as though the overall experience is generally positive – but who really knows?

I had never thought of returning home with that kind of souvenir, but just couldn’t resist putting this out there and asking your opinion: Would you travel for the savings of surgery?

*Cover photo courtesy of plastic_cosmetic_surgery via Flickr.

“Don’t jinx me!” I’d always say in response.  I fancy myself a careful traveler with a good head on her shoulders, but no matter how careful one tries to be, things will, inevitably, eventually go amiss.

I hadn’t noticed anything was missing, so I continued on my trajectory of spending baht like it’s Monopoly money, and arrived in the coastal town of Ao Nang with about 200 baht (the equivalent of USD$6) to my name.  Stopping by an ATM before my long-tail boat ride over to my beloved Tonsai, I opened my wallet and realized:

My freaking debit card is missing!!!

I hyperventilated while searching every orifice of my bag for about 5 minutes before digging out my emergency stash of dollars (that I actually earned for painting this mural, it’s funny how things work out), and changing them over to Thai baht.  Figuring that there was nothing to be done at the present moment, I got on the long-tail boat as planned, and headed for Tonsai, where the electricity doesn’t run during the day and there are no banks.

On my second day there, I was lamenting my situation to a Canadian I had just met, who immediately insisted on handing me three thousand baht (about USD$100).  Again and again I refused, but he insisted.

“It’s really not a lot to me.  Just pay it forward,” he said.

That few thousand ended up guiding me through until my arrival back in Ao Nang where I had my bank send me funds via Western Union.  Ten days later, my debit card arrived via FedEx.  Though a frankly crappy and anxiety-causing situation, it wasn’t the end of the world, or worse, my travels!

If you find yourself in a similar situation take the following steps:

• Inform your bank of the lost card and identify any fraudulent charges as soon as you can.  I did this all via Skype, which did not charge me for calling 1-800 numbers. 
• Have either your bank or a family member send you funds via Western Union.  If you have credit cards and know your PIN number, sometimes the fees are more favorable to withdraw a cash advance on those vs. Western Union.  Another option is to paypal another traveler some money and have them withdraw funds from an ATM for you.
• Your bank may require you to fax over your location information – mine did.  It was very helpful in this situation to have my mother on my account as she had easier access to a fax machine (I added her before leaving – this has turned out to be a great idea for several reasons).
• Find a location you trust, like a nice hotel, to have your card sent to.  I chose the dive shop I had just finished a Similan Islands dive trip with, as it was not too far for me to get back to and I knew I could trust them.
• Your bank should send the card via FedEx. Obtain a tracking number and track its progress.

Other ideas that friends have since come up with are to have multiple bank accounts so that the Western Union fees can be avoided.  This is a smart move and one I’ll be employing moving forward.

So, all said and done, I lost a little, and gained some faith in humanity via a gift from a stranger.  It rings true time and time again, when we’re in need, that’s when help arrives.

Have you ever lost something important while traveling? What did you do to remedy the situation?

First off, let’s establish what a ladyboy is.

A ladyboy is a transgendered or transvestite individual in Southeast Asia.  In Thailand, for example, they are openly tolerated if not embraced and even regarded as good luck charms.

My story takes place between Christmas and New Year’s last year, on Phuket.  I would normally avoid what has become such a seedy place like the plague, but it so happened that I had to head there to get a chest x-ray for my Australian visa.  While there, I met a group of friends who wanted to check out the ladyboy cabaret.  Given that I had nothing better to do, I tagged along.

Ladyboy shows are often a way for ladyboys to save up for the final step of the surgical procedure to become a woman.  The performers tend to at least have breast implants, and are quite often absolutely beautiful, and convincing!

I sat through an hour or so of performances in Russian, English, Chinese, and, of course, Gangnam Style, so that every possible member of the audience would be satisfied hearing a song in his/her native language, performed by crystal-adorned ladyboys dancing a little out of sync with smiles plastered on their faces.

After the show, we had an opportunity to take photos with the various performers.  One of the more beautiful ones I had noticed on stage beckoned me over.

I couldn’t say no, right?

He (she?) grabbed my hand and slung it over her (his?) shoulder.  My friend, Dylan (who attended with me on the pretense that ‘the journalist in him said yes’), snapped a photo just as the unthinkable happened:

The ladyboy stuck my hand down her (his?) top. 

It rested there for a few seconds (though it felt like hours) before I realized what was happening.  I pulled it back out at lightening speed, completely flabbergasted, as the ladyboy laughed at me.

The ladyboy in question is to my right (and, why yes, I AM sunburned)

For the remainder of the night I just kept looking down at my hand, unsure of what to do.

Do I wash it? Sanitize it? Chop it off?

And so, without even meaning to, I made it to second base with a ladyboy.  I have now joined the rank and file of tourists in Thailand who have befallen such a fate.

I think the best course of action for me now is to do as the locals do, and regard this as a good luck charm.  If nothing else, it makes for one hilarious story.

*This post is for Chelsea, who so eloquently said one night, “The title of Kristin’s Southeast Asia memoirs: I Made it to Second Base With a Ladyboy.” 

*Special thanks to Dylan Lowe for the photos, and you’re welcome, Dylan, for getting to be the one to witness this account first-hand. 

I’ve often said to non-divers who are thinking of taking the literal plunge: as a traveler, it’s another frontier you get to see.  It’s another world to explore where all of the residents look different, speak another language, and subscribe to a different culture.

Some are curious, and swim circles around you as you descend into the blue

Greetings, fishies, I am Kristin from above. Translation: bubble bubble bubble.

Is it scary? I’m often asked.

I have never found it to be so.  Hurling myself off of a bungee platform with a line attached to my ankle? That sounds scary.  Floating gently in the ocean that always mesmerizes me, whether on shore or descending ever deeper into the blue? Not a chance.

Diving is exhilarating.

Look at this guy!

Then there’s the little matter of searching and finding things you’ve never seen before, such as a sea turtle, tiny yellow seahorse, puffer fish, or the holy grail; a giant manta ray.

It was the final of my 18 dives over the course of 6 days off the Andaman Coast while diving Thailand when I finally saw a manta ray for the first time.  We were about 20 minutes into the dive, and I started to worry I had seen all that I was going to see in this part of the sea.  Then, a rapid series of taps made their way through the water and to my ears.  This was a dive master out of my line of vision tapping on his air tank – a common way of saying, “something amazing is nearby!”

The divers in my group all spun around and looked at each other.  Where was it coming from?  Would we have a chance to see whatever this other group had seen?  A few minutes later, a giant manta ray, spreading his wings like a majestic eagle, soared over head.

MANTA RAY!!!

I let the current carry me, I was so mesmerized, I was so blown away.  It was like I was a lifelong birder who had finally seen a rare species that had previously been a mere rumor to me.  Just as it was all sinking in, another one soared overhead, turned around, and came back my direction, bathing himself in the bubbles emitted from our regulators (they do love the jacuzzi effect – as do I – it’s a nice feeling swimming through the bubbles of a fellow diver).

The rest of the dive is a blur to me.  All I can remember how is the angelic glide of the ray, his sheer size, and feeling of finally seeing one after searching for nearly a week.

We surfaced a short while later, feeling gratified, satisfied, and elated by what we had seen.  One of my dive buddies was still crying tears of joy.

Yes, it is a strange and difficult thing to convey – the true, sheer amazingness of SCUBA diving.

*Thanks to Wicked Diving in Khao Lak for helping to make this dream a reality for me. If you’re considering diving in the Similan or Surin Islands, this is a great dive shop to check out. In the spirit of full disclosure, I was a guest of Wicked but they did not ask that I write a favorable review – they didn’t need to. I had a blast!