A journey through Guatemala

It’s a strawberry shadowed full moon and I have that beautiful song in my head about being followed by one. I am smiling, because just like Cat Stevens I would not have to cry no more if the colors in my eyes had to run dry. Colors so vivid and textures so pleasant and soft have embellished my senses to the extent that I am now convinced that I might just, for the time being, be passing through a rainbow. Becoming more and more infatuated with what is being revealed every new day here in Guatemala is making me wonder; why has it taken us so long to come to this captivating place?

Victor is holding up the sign with our hostel name on it as we exit the terminal at Aeropuerto Internacional La Aurora in Guatemala City. My last minute efforts on the plane on how to say “ Hello, nice to meet you” in Spanish, becomes scrambled at my first attempt to seem like I am not ignorant, but all that comes out is a mixture of Afrikaans and Xhosa. Victor doesn’t seem to mind, but I know that he must be thinking that I am such a gringo. He does not speak a word of English and I can only say ¿Puedo hacer fotos por favor? (May I take photo of you?) and ¿huevos fritos vuelta y vuelta, con la yema blanda? (Can I have my eggs over easy please?)

Antigua Santa Catalina Arch

Contemplation

It seems a bit inappropriate asking him these kinds of questions after just meeting him so it’s a pretty quiet ride to the hostel. Our first night in Guatemala is spent wondering where exactly we are. Eventually we wake up at the usual 03:30am as per international jetlag criterion and as the loud minute hand ticks by the sound of birds and chickens also start getting louder and louder. We don’t know what it looks like outside in Zona 13 because we arrived at night. It is amazing what a difference that can make to your perception of things. After learning that Zona 1 and 18 are pretty dangerous places, I don’t know what to make of the Zona we are in, seeing that it is bordered off and you can only enter through a beam manned by guys armed with rifles. In the short ride to where we will catch our connecting transport to Antigua, I see about a million colourful chicken busses and I have myself imagining what it must be like to travel on one of those. I decide there and then that it will have to be done before the end of this trip.

Vulcan Agua dominates the lush landscape as we descend down one of the many hills we have to navigate to get to Antigua. It is seriously hilly here. We enter Antigua and it is as if you drive into the sixteenth century. The cobble stone roads are bustling with people and every beautiful wooden door leads to another world. It is a multi coloured colonial town with incredibly beautiful views of three towering, smoking volcanoes. When I see a Mayan woman in traditional clothing sitting under the Santa Catalina Convent arch I cant get to my camera fast enough so I take a picture with my eyes that wont fade in my mind.

Vulcan Agua

Sunrise

Through our colourful bedroom windows we have a beautiful view of Vulcan Agua. The sunrise on this still and quiet morning painted the sky in magnificent shades of red and yellow and left us well inspired to go hiking up a volcano that is still active. We heard loud explosions throughout the evening and after being reassured that they were not bombs but Vulcan Pacaya puffing like a mad dragon, we also understood why we felt that incredible tremor of an earthquake earlier. Walking up Pacaya is not as easy as it originally seemed to be. I managed to walk all the way but Tam had to catch a ride on a horse at some point. Breathing becomes difficult with each meter you ascend and in the tropical heat I felt like a fruit fly being smacked by an electric flyswatter when least expected. We are in a group of mixed nationalities with posh chickas from England and a cool couple from Belgium. One of the things I enjoyed on our trip through Guatemala is that there are not too many tourists, but just enough of them so you don’t feel like you should be worried. We toast some marshmallows over the hot lava that is setting into black volcanic stone while moving around so that our shoes don’t melt. It just goes to show that you should follow your wildest dreams because I never thought I would be eating a perfectly toasted mallow on top of a volcano.

Daily life in Antigua

We have two weeks to explore as much as we can in this beautiful country so we decide to head down to the laid back town of Panajachel. The best thing, I reckon, since guacamole nachos my amigos. The town of Panajachel lies at the edge of the volcanic crater lake Atitlan. No words in all the worlds’ dictionaries can put a sentence together to explain the breath-taking scenery. From there we catch a boat to the neighbouring hippy towns of San Juan, San Marco, San Pedro and Santiago Atitlan. We learn about Mayan plants used for medicine and about the intricate weaving methods used to this day. I can see myself staying in any of these small colourful places drinking the best coffee in the world, learning Spanish and becoming vegetarian. Back in the Transkei we say that people get Pondo fever, never wanting to leave the place. Here around lake Atitlan I see people getting the same fever and I recognise many of our friends back home in the faces of the folk who got trapped here. Trapped is the wrong word, it’s more like they are hummingbirds flittering about living off the sweet nectar of a very fertile place. I leave a piece of my heart down here in lake Atitlan, not only because I found my namesake in one of the towns but also because of the realness I see in the reflection of an old mans eyes as he asks me for something in return when I take his picture.

At Chichi the activities will leave you mesmerized

Tomb at cemetery

Cemetery tombs at Chichicastenango

I don’t know why the American government issues travel warnings like they do. I wonder if the person who wrote it actually went to Guatemala. Even though the country recently went through a civil war and police presence is very obvious, I did not feel unsafe once during our stay here. We jump on a bus and take it to Chichicastenango, the largest market in Central America. It only happens on a Thursday and a Sunday and we chose to go on the Sabbath. The place is unreal with thousands upon thousands of people selling their craft, vegetables and livestock in stalls ranging from the size of a small bag to that of a large tent. The buzzing sound of bargaining and the colours of the traditional clothes is like something only Joseph would have dreamed up- extremely vivid. There is a fascinating cemetery just outside the market that we want to go to and are advised to take a guided walk there as people have been robbed at gunpoint in the past. Alfredo guides us through the colourful necropolis while I buy us some ice cream from a vendor ringing his eerie sounding bell. There is a Mayan priest swinging a tin can full of smoke while a family is burning piles of tobacco and candles, hoping that the wind will take the smoke straight up and not sideways. The tombs are painted in bright colours and some stand as tall as a small house. As we exit the cemetery, a priest throws a type of pepper into a can filled with a burning concoction of petrol and incense and it explodes with a loud bang. I don’t quite understand much of what I have seen in this crazy colourful place but it fascinates me beyond my belief. I don’t have much experience with psychedelics, but I rate that Chichicastenango is probably similar to a psychedelic experience. You either love it or hate it. My eyes were tired from all the looking when we left there and my ears were happy to have some peace and quiet on way back to Panajachel.

I see you

Vegetable market at Chichi

There is one more place we are going to visit in Guatemala and we chose to experience it at the end of our trip. We have to catch an overnight bus to this destination and I know that it is going to be one experience we will never forget. Even though our once empty bags have become heavy and my memory cards are full of pictures, we are excited and ready for the world that awaits us in Tikal, the lost world of the ancient Mayans.

June 22, 2014July 18, 2014 by iamjuanmarais Categories: GuatemalaTags: Antigua, colors, colours, culture, faces, fire, Guatemala, lake atilan, people, rituals 5 Comments

Wala

With a local Tusker beer in my hand I trudge behind Roy while the song of exotic birds above makes me breathe in deep as I relish that wonderful feeling of being somewhere new for the first time. After a while I cant help but notice that he has a slightly widen stance to his stride and its almost as if he is hopping along the clay-like path through the jungle. I admire the fact that he is without shoes but there is something strange about the growing silence between us. At the beach he was very loquacious but the deeper we wander into the dense tropical forest, the less he wants me to speak. I have to keep up as he darts left and right then ducks under branches and roots of prehistoric trees, trekking further away from the narrow main footpath. I try to remember where we are going and pick out distinctive trees for beacons, but soon I am lost. I don’t know if he is really taking me to where he said he would and I am starting to get the feeling we are not supposed to be going there in the first place. I get paranoid and think about turning around to run away from him before its too late. No one will hear my screams out here and he is probably a master at slicing through flesh with that machete he is carrying. After all, he is taking me to an ancient cannibal-feeding site…

Jungle trekking

Before my little adventure into the jungle however, my eyes were blessed with some sights that you will only find here on this small Vanuatu Island of Wala. As I stroll pass the impeccably tidy island houses made from palms, I get to admire the children and their tropical pets. It makes me reminisce about my furry childhood friends and although I did not have any exotic pets, we did have eleven dogs at a time. The children here have all kinds of domesticated creatures. From colorful birds and patient chickens to chilled out iguanas and graceful turtles. The best thing about these pets is that they are not kept in cages. The brilliantly colored iguana chills on a Melanesian girls’ head while the baby turtles go back to their big tidal pool at the end of the day. Earlier on in the day I gave a small boy that was playing with his pet iguana a soccer ball as a gift. He was pretty stoked, but when I happened to walk pass their house later in the day I noticed the ball discarded far to one side, the boy clearly preferring to play with his pet Iguana named Roy. Two things came to mind; An Iguana is obviously a far better thing to play with seeing that a ball can’t sit on your shoulder and secondly most things here are named Roy. It makes me happy to observe the contentedness of these islanders. I don’t know it yet but at the end of this day I will have newfound respects, learn more about trusting strangers and have an admiration for the parents of this place.

Where else will you see this?

Starfish and baby turtles for pets – any child’s dream

A baby Hawksbill turtle

 Although the island is not very large I quickly find myself wandered far away from all the tourists at the beach. I like being away from everyone else and I feel I get to see things that no one else does. As I stroll around the village, I see a local man dressed in nothing but a piece of rope around his genitals, the kind of rope-like sack material you buy your oranges in. Although it doesn’t look very comfy, it looks like the ultimate commando setup. He notices me looking and I hesitate as he calls me over, thinking there can’t be much more the rope man can show me as much is already revealed.

“ Hello, my name is Roy. Do you want to see something interesting?” Yes, another man named Roy wants to show me something. I say OK but as long as it does not involve anything to do with rope coming off. “ I want to show you how I make a fire. I can make a fire with no matches.” We walk to his back yard and he asks me to sit as he gathers his materials. “ This is the only way I make a fire every day. I never use matches, a real man makes fire like this.” Roy proceeds to show me a method that I know if I had to try it I will end up with blisters on my hand and a definite night in the dark. In a matter of seconds he has the husk of a coconut in flames, keeping a close eye on my reaction to his natural and ingenious lighter. Very impressive. As I say goodbye to my new hero in his red rope setup I keep quiet about the fact that I have a lighter in my bag. I cant help but thinking that this guy must be pulling a lot of chicks with an attire and fire making tricks like that.

No, they don’t grow that large on this island. Roy in his island vibing rope undies.

 

How to make a fire like a champ:

 Step one: Be a man and try to wear nothing but your undies.

 

Step two: Have your stuff ready. You don’t want to be running around looking for husk after an ember is made.

 

 

 Step three: Be patient and don’t let sweat ruin your efforts

 

Step four: Be a man and don’t cry when you get smoke in the eye.

 

 

 Step five: Braai

 

… We stop at what looks like randomly scattered concrete blocks covered in moss. All thoughts about being eaten by another human disappear when Roy breaks the tense silence with a whisper in the shadows. “ Look there, under the tomb. The last skull of a human being that was eaten by cannibals, more than two hundred years ago.” I can’t help but get the creeps as I imagine the episode of savageness that played out here centuries ago. I do however also become aware of the antithesis of the scene. The top of the skull is eerily hidden in the undergrowth but exposed just enough so a plant can shoot new green leaves through it.

Cannibal tombs in the jungle

 

Skull in the undergrowth

Roy became his normal unreserved and gabby self when we got closer to the beach after the sinister little tour, telling me all about his ancestors and the many different things he believes. He introduced me to his wife and children and insisted that we have some kava together. From the varied experiences of just one day on this beautiful island in the Pacific I realize a few things. I learnt that you could trust strangers, even if they take you into the unknown with a machete. I have a new found respect for the real men out there, living without the essential things that have turned many western men into pansies, and I have an absolute appreciation for the parents out there that teach their children to live in harmony with nature and its many wonderful creatures.

May 24, 2014July 18, 2014 by iamjuanmarais Categories: UncategorizedTags: chickens, culture, island, paradise, people, smiling, tradition Leave a comment

Spending time in Kitava

April 12, 2014July 18, 2014 by iamjuanmarais Categories: UncategorizedTags: beach, culture, happy, island, palm tree, papau new guinea, paradise, PNG, smiles, turtle Leave a comment

South Pacific Adventures in Fiji, Vanuatu & New Caledonia

 

They warned me about the drink. Locals say it helps to clear your mind before you say things you might regret and that it is mostly used during ceremonies. Indulgence can cause euphoria, but this legal root has been used in traditional ceremonies for thousands of years. Incredibly ripped men whose faces are painted black in symmetrical patterns sit with me in the circle, legs crossed. My mind is as clear as day from the peppery drink but my mouth feels numb. I forget how to say halo and that I am supposed to clap only once when the elder passes the communal cup to me. The worn out coconut cup is touching my anesthetized lips for the third time around and the main pot that holds the rest of the ground up watery pulp still looks pretty full. It is only when I notice the man walking on coals that I start questioning myself for coming here. Is my mind playing tricks on me or have I been hit by the Kava?

The Yaqona (Kava) plant has an important place in ceremonies and is used widely as a token of goodwill and respect amongst the South Pacific people

Kava root

There are some three hundred islands dotted like jewels in the Fiji chain, but only about a hundred are inhabited. We only get to visit the island of Viti Levu, and Suva is our first port of call. It is hot, incredibly humid and the town is bustling with activities. For a moment it seemed as though we might have arrived in Mumbai, as the majority of the faces I see are Indian. From what I can remember, the first proper Fijian welcome I receive comes from a beautifully dressed big mama with an Afro the size of the Jackson fives’ combined. “Bula!” I like the sound of the word and how she spontaneously shouts it at me, I say it back to her and she smiles a wide white one. I start noticing more and more Fijians and unlike the Indian folk who are more interested in selling ‘authentic’ Fijian artifacts, the Fijians happily greet anyone by means of saying Bula. There are bands of old men playing on guitars and Ukuleles, singing in rustic harmonizing voices and the music from open -air buses passing by add to the sounds of the busy town in their own unique way.

To see the places you see on postcards you have to make missions. It annoys me when people give a place a bad reputation when all they have experienced was a busy shop full of tourists. Get in a cab or take a bus and go explore! I take an open-air bus ride and go through the villages of Na Vasi and Navua on the way to the Pacific Harbor region. Locals wave and say Bula all the way. Although there are some of the best beaches close-by, I choose to watch a traditional Fire Walking ceremony in a village. According to myth, a young warrior was given the exceptional power to withstand fire when he caught the Eel Spirit, and so to prove his power to his chief he walked on fire heated river stones. I enjoy how an elderly man narrates the happenings and some more myths come up. In those days a chief could have anything up to forty wives, but only one of them was his queen. When he died, she had the choice to be buried alive with him or to be clubbed to death and then buried with him. Cannibalism was rife and the practicing of polygamy seemed to have caused many inter-tribal wars.

 

 

Firewalker

 

In Port Denarau on the East coast of Viti Levu, I jump on a catamaran and lay back on the deck as the wind blow us toward an island called Savala. With white beach islands scattered all around me in water alive with all shades of blue, I feel like a sea gypsy hopping from one reality into another. The catamaran anchors just off the beach. I swim past some black tipped reef sharks and parrot fish and before I even set foot on this island I know that it is going to be a sad moment when I have to leave again. I grab a cold Fiji Bitter from the rustic beach bar and find a spot to sit at the far side of the island looking out into nothing but absolute serene tropical Nirvana. The local brew along with the view is the catalyst that starts my questioning of things. Why do I have to leave? Why cant I just stay? The local guys also only have their guitars to keep them company and I don’t care about handheld devices other than my one with six strings. I would be happy spending the rest of my life here in this ramshackle hut under its palm roof. Who came up with the saying anyways that some novelties will eventually wear off?

One is enough to get you thinking who is really living the dream

I snap out of the fantasy and get back onto the catamaran, saying goodbye to an island that I will never forget. There are new memories to be made in places just as intriguing and beautiful. I find enough comfort in that.

I notice so many reflections here in Fiji. Some come from the shiny smiles of the people and others come from the beautiful landscape.

Along Queens road on the southern coast of Viti Levu

Fire walking ceremony

If views like this cant make you want to stay then I don’t know what will

Palms above and below

Parallel dream

It is red yellow green everywhere when I walk past the minibus taxis in Port Vila on the Island of Efate in Vanuatu. There is a heavy police presence and this is the first place, after Puntarenas in Costa Rica, where it seems that things might turn volatile if there were no cops around. For a moment it feels like I have walked into a taxi rank in Khayalitsha. It turns out the police is only there to make sure that no one gets ripped off with taxi fares.

Music is everywhere

I jump in a taxi with two elderly locals and they ask the smiling, giggling most happy go lucky cabdriver to get dropped off on the way to town. I wanted to get off further down so when they get out the clearly stoned cab driver asks if I mind him going past his house first to fetch a friend. I feel no need to be scared since cannibalism does not exist here anymore. We drive through nooks and crannies and side streets and dirt roads dodging dogs and chicken while he puffs on the spliff he just rolled while driving. Red yellow green. On this occasion I do not partake in the use of the herb except for inhaling the sweet fumes filling the cab. We fetch his friend who must have been growing his dreadlocks since the 1960’s and when we leave his shack he turns on the tinny boombox he carries on his shoulder. It is a one-way dialogue between the Irie and I. I’d say something and he just smiles. I get dropped off where I want to be and exchange some $ for Vatu.

We meet up with some mates and take a different taxi this time to a stunning beach. There is a boy playing with a broken surfboard on the beach and looking at the reef to the right I can see the potential.

Port Vila beach, Efate Island – Vanuatu

I knew it with an inexplicable certainty the second I stepped onto the white sand. To say it is white sand is not correct either. If it is any finer, it will evaporate. The sand is unbelievable, but the water has got me talking to myself in gibberish, trying to fathom the beauty and serenity of it. With not a ripple on the water as the dreamy indigo bay lay before me, I conclude that this place is going to be my new favourite spot in the world. On a beach on the Isle of Pines, just south of New Caledonia, I have myself the second best day of my life – second only to the day I got married. For the entire day I was on a pure natural high from the gift our senses give us. I swam in the perfect miniature waves as if I am a fish, getting images with my fisheye camera. I rolled around in the soft white sand like nobody is watching. I sang and whistled out loud like nobody is listening. I jumped and danced on the deserted beach like a golly wok. Not that I wouldn’t usually do things like that though. I have what I’d like to refer to as a no strings attached affair with this beautiful beach. The fact that it is a French island makes the affair even sexier. On this occasion I am truly the only person on the beach- for the entire day.

Even the drops of water out of place looks in place

I wish I could spend a year in this place, waiting for the day it is big enough to surf

                

While I float in the turquoise ocean I feel completely disconnected from the world and I feel at peace with everything in my life. I feel so alive and connected to the beautiful surroundings that I almost start crying when I have to walk away from my beach at the end of the day. I soon realize that the strings from this day will tug at my heart for as long as I am alive for there is no such thing as a no strings attached affair to start out with. I don’t know when, but I will find my way back to this piece of paradise in the future. It wont be hard to find for I have mapped the way there into the back of my mind and sealed the secret by sacrificially drinking a sip of the blue seawater while I carry some of the sand in my bag wherever I go. Some people carry medic- alert bracelets that can help save their lives in emergencies. From this day onward I have mine too. It simply reads “ Take me to the Isle of Pines”.

I can’t find the name of this beach anywhere, so will refer to it as My Beach

 

My beach smiling for the camera

 

 

Ile des Pins

The reef around the sacred rock teems with life and is also a breeding ground for coral snakes

         

Ile des Pins local

The next time I went back to My beach I had some new friends, still with no one in sight.

 

A perfect place to jump for joy

New Caledonia sunset

 

 

November 8, 2013November 8, 2013 by iamjuanmarais Categories: Pacific IslandsTags: aqua, beatuiful beaches, beauty, culture, Fiji, fire walking, fish, happiness, Ilse of Pines, island, nemo, New Caledonia, palm trees, paradise, Port Denarau, snorkelling, solitude, sunset, sunshine, Suva, tribes, Vanuatu, Vila 2 Comments

Kyoto / Osaka

If you ever had to arrive in Osaka at night, you will immediately know what the weather will be like the following day. A giant Ferris wheel that lights up in either one of three colors indicates the forecast. We were fortunate enough to have the gigantic wheel spinning in a shade of red for our duration of stay. (Red- sunny, green- overcast, blue- raining)

 

 

I am extremely fortunate that I had the opportunity to visit the city of Kyoto, an hour or so from Osaka. During WW2 Osaka was heavily bombed and many, if not most, of the ancient temples and shrines were destroyed. But Kyoto was spared. All the temples and places of religious significance are as they were, some dating back to as far as the year 711.

 

Like I have mentioned in the previous blog about Nagasaki, there is a certain inexplicable sense of peace here. It might be because I am visiting temples, but even the walk through the city is not as fast paced, as one would imagine it to be in Japan. I have not been to Tokyo yet, but imagine things to be different there perhaps. For now, I am enjoying the calm late spring day as I make my way to my first temple – The Fushimi Inari Taisha Shrine.

This temple is enshrined at the western foot of Mount Inari, at the southern tip of Kyoto’s Higashiyama Sanju mountain range. This is the head shrine of the 30,000 shrines nationwide. It is beautifully preserved and the color of vermilion is striking. Because the color expresses the power of Inari Okami (god of harvest) most of the shrines are painted in this vivid shade of orange.

Main Shrine

I make my way to the Senbon Torii. It is a walkway with 1000 shrine gates all painted in bright vermilion.

 

There are about 10,000 shrines on the grounds and they have been offered by worshippers from all over Japan as a testament of their prayers and gratitude. Toriis are infused with the meaning of wishes will come through.

The first sushi I had in Nagasaki was amazing because the restaurant had a very intimate feel to it. The Sushi restaurant I went to today however must be one of the most beautiful on the planet. While eating the exotic and extremely well presented delicacy, I look out onto an amazing Japanese garden. There are bonsai trees growing out of age-old rocks and the Koi in the pond fascinates me into a state of complete Zen.

Pond at the restaurant

 

I don’t know why it bothers me so much that certain Western people are so reluctant to emerge themselves into other cultures. Here we are, sitting in this amazing and truly beautiful restaurant and the woman opposite me does not even want to try the smallest bit of Sushi because she is afraid of parasites. Yes, I understand it is not everyone’s favorite dish, but at least have the decency to not ask for a chicken burger!

Beautiful pagoda in the Sushi restaurant garden

 

Sushi Restaurant garden

 

Koi pond and waterfall at Sushi restaurant garden

 

After lunch I stumble upon a temple that took my breath away. I walk past what appears to me like a Japanese monk and with the aromas of incense that is filling the air along with the chants in the distance, I feel like I am stepping back a few centuries.

The Kiyomizu temple is a Buddhist temple. Many Japanese people are Buddhists and it is no surprise that it is busy here. There are lots of different people here and I see many girls dressed in Geisha attire. They are so incredibly beautiful. What strike me most is the purification ritual people do. Water flowing from a dragon’s mouth is collected in a cup. You wash your hands with it and take a sip, rinse the mouth, and spit out the water. I do the same.

One of the Kiyomizu Shrines. I was in awe of this scene for well over an hour, lost in my mind

 

Japanese monk at Kiyomizu temple

 

There is so much to take in at this temple and I wish I had a week to explore all the photo opportunities. I can only imagine what it must look like at sunset, or when the cherry blossoms are in bloom, perhaps it will look most amazing when it is snowing. But what I see today is beautiful and I am grateful for this beautiful day.

Main Shrine at Kiyomizu

 

The final temple for the day is something completely different, and it has something I have always wanted to see. A Zen garden.

No shoes mean you get a real feel of the wooden floors and how old they really are. The entrance to the Ryoanji Temple is spectacular and it leads me to the rectangular Zen garden. It is a simple but remarkable stone garden. It is completely different in the way that there is no tree to be seen in the garden, only fifteen rocks and white gravel is used. The garden was created by a respected Zen monk, Tokuho Zenketsu, and dates back to the Muromachi period (around the year 1500).

The wall of the garden is made from clay boiled in oil and over time a peculiar design formed from the seeping oil.

A good place for contemplation

 

As I exit the temples beautiful wooden doors, a lady offers me a cup of seaweed tea. It tastes so good and I can’t get enough of it and ask for more, and when she politely says no, I realize just like I have a limited time here, I need to be truly satisfied with what I already have.

The beautiful wooden doors and roofs

May 16, 2013September 20, 2013 by iamjuanmarais Categories: JapanTags: beauty, colour, culture, Japan, peace, serenity, temples Leave a comment

Vietnam

Vietnam

I plugged in my headphones and ironically Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones started playing as the bus drove along the paddy fields. It totally got me zoned into what it must have been like during the war.

I see smiling children waving, woman wearing paddy hats cleaning, shirtless men smoking and water buffalo grazing. It’s hot, humid and fascinating. Welcome to Vietnam.

It is a two-hour bus ride from the Port of Phu My to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) and I feel blessed with what I have when I see how the people live. That proverbial ‘one dollar mistah’ really can get you far here.

The guide says something about the excellent coffee they export but all I smell is the anticipation of actually getting to walk around the city.

I exit the bus and the first character I see has an expression on his face that gets me reaching for my camera quicker than the sweat drops are running down my face.

Many people have warned me about walking around alone and tell stories of how bag snatchers will take my stuff without me noticing it. Then I just remind myself I am from South Africa. I feel safe and I open myself to whatever comes my way. Unlike in Indonesia, if you get hassled by people selling cheap shit, if you tell them to go away they do.

I buy some coconut drink from this lady and she immediately thinks I am from the USA. I find it rather interesting that she drops the price as soon as I show her on a world map where I am from.

The organized chaotic flow of the traffic is an experience on its own. If you think that whole thing of looking left then right then left again is going to help you cross a road, then think again. Then I suggest you think again and then, think again. I watched a cop stop all the traffic so that a granny can cross a semi busy road. I am not surprised when I learn about the shocking amount of road deaths caused by motorbikes in Vietnam, especially in the rural areas.

Dong Khoi Street.

 

The people wear masks everywhere they go. I am tempted to dress up like these ninjas but cant imagine how hot it must be

I end my day in Saigon by buying a beer from this Viet girl.  While I am waiting for my bus in front of the Ho Chi Minh main Post office, I crack the beer and as soon as I start drinking, a police officer approaches me. I remember thinking to myself now I am in trouble for drinking in public. He asks me: “ How much did you pay for that beer?” $1 I say. “Be careful, that lady just ripped you off!” He laughs at me. I let slip a cheeky smile because I know this whole experience is priceless.

April 27, 2013September 20, 2013 by iamjuanmarais Categories: UncategorizedTags: chaos, city, culture, Ho Chi min city, markets, tradition, Vietnam 3 Comments

THAILAND!

Thailand

 

The best way to experience Thailand is to go with an open mind. You have to eat the local food and hassle people about the price of things. They expect you to do so and if you don’t, you will get ripped off.

 

 

 

On a previous trip we spent a lot of time on the islands in the Gulf of Thailand. This time around we had only a few hours in the town of Pattaya as the cruise ship only dock during the day.

 

 

I love how you can buy a beer from any vendor at any time of day so as soon as we got off we cracked a few Changs and walked along the beach until we found a reasonably decent place to eat. The colourful beach chairs allure you just as much as the interesting aromas of food being prepared.

 

 

 

 

 

This was a short day mission, but we were lucky enough to be there for the Thai new year celebrations. Traditionally they celebrate by throwing water on everyone. Best to buy a water gun and spray who ever you wish, even police officers join in.

 

 

 

We cant wait to go back to explore the area around Chiang Mai in the north

 

April 25, 2013September 20, 2013 by iamjuanmarais Categories: ThailandTags: beach, beauty, culture, excitement, island, party 1 Comment