You say Thiruvananthapuram, I say Thiruvananthapuram, let's call the whole thing off

You don't always get a chance to redeem yourself but that is exactly what happened to me in India - Part Deux. Let's say there was no love lost between India and me, the first time I went. The second time, we are bosom buddies, in fact, you could say, I fell in love.

There is a photo every step of the way

When R2 was summoned to work for a week in India, I could see the desperation in the text he sent, "Mi amor, I have to return to India....I will understand if you can't come," was what I read. What I heard was, "You better get your Canadian tukus on that plane with me and save me from Delhi Belly, if you want to go to Maldives, or any other exotic holiday, for that matter."

Who can argue with that logic? My bags were packed before he crossed the threshold that evening.

Beaches, to die for

We decided to make the best of this trip and began quizzing friends that I have met in Singy for the best place to relax and enjoy a little R&R. I heard the same answer many times over, "Go to Kerala in Southern India." My mistake; last time we only went north and missed the sprawling beaches and miles of coastline. Every person we spoke to talked about the ocean, the scenery, the breezes, and the SEAFOOD....did you say seafood?

Only skirts are worn in the temple by men

The trip began with business in Bangalore, led by fantastic dinners with 16 Starters before we even got to the Mains. I had no idea what I ate in all of those courses, but I know I rolled away from the table and gasped when our guests enlightened us to the fact we had merely just begun to eat; only five more courses until the end. This type of eating went on for two nights, so needless to say, the old mumu bikini came out of hiding when we reached Kovalam, Kerala. Now I know why I see so many burkinis on the beach, not only is modesty an issue, but also what eating all those carbs for hours at a stretch does to a girlish figure.

We landed in the state's capital city of Thiruvananthapuram; I know, say that fast five times, and drove along the coast noticing picturesque beaches, mosques and shops until we reached our secluded villa at Surya Samudra Private Retreats. I don't want to turn this story into a Trip Advisor review, but "wow" was all I could say. Once again, the tall Latino knocked one outta the park with picking these digs. 

After a cool coconut drink was brought to us, we were led to a seaside villa, atop a cliff, overlooking the Arabian Sea. Quite swank for this prairie girl, but with you people that grew up with an outhouse, you may wonder why I was so excited about the outdoor shower and loo. It was a little intimidating to bathe for all monkeys' eyes to see, but I am no Kate Middleton so I think I was safe amidst all the coconut trees.

The Mosque (Masjid) on the cliff

R2, still not accustomed to the poverty and filth, decided the best course of action was to hire a car and enjoy India from the luxury of air con and four wheels instead of three on the auto rickshaws. The Samudra Retreat was on top of everything, and lo and behold a splashy SUV picked us up to tour around as we pleased. We had a brilliant time photographing the arresting scenery, people and animals we encountered along the way. 

Again, the local people were not used to seeing the western dynamic duo, so we were stopped several times to have our photos taken. This time, we took many of the locals’ pics, and they happily posed. The mosques built on cliff tops with the sea crashing down below had to be a highlight of the trip. However, what was most fun about the journey was a group of girls that jumped from a rickshaw and started to blow kisses my way.

I enjoyed the locals this time around. As we would pass the neighborhood tailor, he would greet us with, "Hello, what is your name, where are you from, look at my stuff," and give us a friendly wave. The lady selling fruit from a shack would peek out of her dwelling each time we strolled by, giving us a huge, gummy grin hoping we were in need of a lovely bunch of coconuts.

Old man outside of the mosque

Between the intriguing photo ops on every street corner, the shy people and the stellar treatment we received at Surya Samudra, India became bliss in my world. The mornings were tranquil, only being disturbed by a distance rooster cock-a-doodle-doing, and R2 squashing another ant in our outdoor biffy. The afternoons were shaded under an umbrella or spent lazing in an infinity pool that overlooked the sublime Arabian Sea. The evenings ended with spicy-infused ginger cocktails, watching the sun slowly sink into the blue-green waters of Kovalam.

Oh India, how you charmed me. I have become a Lover, not a Fighter. Not once was I shaken down for more money, taken for a drive down a back alley to "buy something from my brother," or lose three kilos in one day from flaming dysentery acquired from fresh vegetables. I left that vacation refreshed and rejuvenated. Lord knows I need it, with the formidable task of going to Thailand in less than a week.  I could get used to this life.

To read my review on Trip Advisor, click here.

Besieged in Bangalore

Selling fruit on the road

What began as a normal day in India turned into a paparazzi circus and I felt a kinship with Lady GaGa and The Biebs. After my previous experience with taxis and tuk tuks in India, I grabbed a brain and hired a driver to show me the sites. Rafiq was eager to show off his knowledge of Bangalore.

Devotion to Ganesha

I didn't have much time and the traffic is a hinderance but Rafiq took me to Shiv Mandir Temple where I chanted Om Namah Shivaya 108 times during Archana, performed Abhishek and ended the ritual with Havan. In other words, I poured milk for purity, repeated the mantra for dedication and devotion and finished with Havan, circling the fire three times for fulfillment of a wish, while connecting to God. I had no idea what I was doing but it was interesting to watch, listen and learn.

Bangalore is concrete, construction and confusion. I wanted to escape the commotion to where I always feel at home. I asked Rafiq to drive me to Lalbagh Botanical Garden to find a piece of serenity. I was well rewarded with the lush green 240 acre park, smack dab in the middle of chaotic madness.

I am not this modest...

I know in India, there is a need for modesty and discreetness. I try to not draw attention to myself but it is hard to contain this hair of mine, especially with the wind and dirt that covers most surfaces. It makes for a tangled mess. I wore a baggy T-shirt, knee-length skirt and trainers for all the walking I planned to do. Seemed low-key to me; just a woman out taking photos, like any other foreigner.

Taking photos in the park

In the park, I was minding my business, trying to sneak photos of the captivating people, when two men approached me, carrying a young child. He shoved the baby into my arms with no warning and asked to take my photo with the kid. Before I could say no, the toddler started to wail in protest. "Hey, I know I look a fright in this wind, but no need for waterworks." The man showed no concern for his traumatized daughter and whipped out an old school cell to take photos of me and his snot-soaked kid. I quickly handed back the kid and got out of there but not before another man approached me and pushed his wife beside me for another happy memory. Magically, four cameras materialized and he was snap-happy.

The blatant stares I received

"What is happening?" I wondered.  I have experienced other cultures wanting Westerners photos and I have been approached before but never to this extent or persistence. I would like to say it got better and I was able to enjoy quiet time but the photo taking became more insistent.  I told a crowd of men, "No," and they were almost begging as I hastened away from them. I got out of that situation as quickly as I could. I could hear R2 in my mind losing his marbles when I told him this story and him telling me I am too friendly and naive.

I made my way to the exit and found Rafiq waiting patiently for me, with the door held open. This 23 year-old man was a true gentleman. He told me with the traffic we had time for one more stop so he took me to an Aviation Museum. I have less than zero interest in museums or aviation for that matter, except to get me from Point A to Point B but he was so eager for me to enjoy, I couldn't say no.

She wanted money when she realized I took her photo

He dropped me off and reminded me I had 30 minutes before we hit the traffic to deposit me safely in the hotel for a business dinner. And R2 was worried about me leaving with this stranger!

There was a huge line up for the museum and I didn't think I would be able to get in with the time allotment but I paid my 20 Rupee entrance fee (35 cents CA) anyway. The security guard told all the Nationals to make way for me and I was brought to the front of the line, while the queue waited.

The museum was very old-fashioned compared to the glitz of the Singapore galleries so I made a perfunctory circle around the exhibits.  Little did I know, I was soon going to be an exhibit.

The crowd of people with many camera!

A small group of young men approached me and wanted my photo; again with the photos? I told them it was strange and creepy to take a stranger’s picture but that didn't deter them. They were so insistent I said, "Just one."

Dozens of people must have been watching this exchange of fake smiles and when I moved to the safety of a display, I was suddenly surrounded by dozens of girls shoving cameras in my face, jumping into the frame, shouting at me to look at them and touching my hair. The crowd started to gather and before I knew it, I was backed up against the walls with people gibbering in a language I had no way to understand.

The security guards came to try to break up the crowd and he told me to just smile, smile. I guess this was the only way he could contain the crowd, but not before he whipped out a cell phone and had his photo taken with me.  He said something in Hindi and the group groaned as I scurried out of there like a beaten dog, tail between my legs. I frantically looked for the exit and noticed the crowd was now following me. I had gone from being a celebrity to the Pied Piper of Bengaluru.

I dashed upstairs, caught my breath, managed to shove my camera into the bag and compose myself before heading outside to find Rafiq. I didn't tell him what happened because I didn't want to offend him by not enjoying the museum, or to make him think he brought me to a place where I was uncomfortable. People in India take their roles seriously and get offended if the service they provide isn't up to a high standard.

Back to the safety of the car taking photos

I searched the crowd to find Rafiq but not before teenagers in school uniforms started pointing, staring, and saying, "Wow, white woman." Now I know how the new pandas at the Singapore Zoo feel.

It was great to be back to the safety of the hotel before we met R2’s colleagues.  I told the story to some of the guests we entertained for dinner. They explained that often many Indians have next to no chance to see white foreigners. Many TV shows and movies are not accessible to many regions and often seeing a white woman on the street is a photo they want to show their friends to say they "met and spoke" to you.

The next time I go out, I will turn the tides and ask to take all of their photos. Should produce some interesting results.

Three Blind Mice...

"There's a rat in me kitchen what am I gonna do? There's a rat in me kitchen what am I gonna go? I'm gonna fix that rat that's what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna fix that rat." 

Quit bringing your rat family to see me

My apologies to UB40 but I swear if I see one more rat in Asia, running solo, in herd or gaggles, or whatever they gather in, I am going to go "Three Blind Mice" on their ass. I have seen rats from India, to Thailand, to Singapore, to Australia (well, technically, they were possum and OZ isn't Asia, but close enough). My latest venture with the pests was in Melaka, Malaysia with my sister Lori, and R2. It doesn't get any easier seeing these vermin running through the streets or dangerously close to where you are dining, no matter how often you see them.

We took Lori for a final trip in Asia before she went homeward bound because we wanted to jam in as many countries as we could. It was her first trip to Asia, and after all the bats, rodents and lizards we saw,  hopefully not her last.

We took a luxury coach to Melaka; the only way you can get to this UNESCO Heritage Site city. The term luxury was a mystery because it was a normal bus with your typical tourist that cracks open a Tiger Beer at 8:00 a.m.and continues to pound five before 11 a.m. Once we crossed the Malaysian border, we stopped for a bathroom break, to the ultra luxurious squat and dip toilets; Lori was not amused.

R2 sprung for superior rooms with huge beds, a monstrous pool to cool down from the August heat and a lounge where we relaxed, away from general population of history seeking tourists. So far, so good.

At the cemetery in Melaka

Melaka is a charming city, filled with forts, tombs, museums and bygone days. Let's be honest, we were there for the massages, food and a boat ride along the river. We also wanted to escape Singapore because it was National Day which means traffic, people and confusion at every corner. We had heard the military practising the fly-bys so often, I thought Singapore was under an air strike and we didn't get the memo.

The romance tuk tuk ride

One activity that I thought would be great for Lori was the manually driven tuk tuks, decorated in every imaginable way. The tuk-tuks are different than I have experienced as they are bicycles that chauffeur you around. We found a couple of men willing and eager to give us a ride to the river. Most of them want to give you the entire city tour.  Little did we know R2 and I got the honeymoon tuk tuk and Lori got the disco tuk tuk. It was all great fun, and the added history lessons we received from the driver was a bonus.

In Melaka, we didn't do anything we haven't done in any of the locales we have visited in Asia: we drifted on the river and pretended it was Amsterdam, we noshed in a bistro and pretended it was France, and we escaped the intense Malaysia heat at the busy pool and pretended it was Mexico. We people watched, we looked at historic Malay sites, we took our lives in our hands trying to cross the road and we fought the never-ending crowds along the street. Pretty much what we do in every place we visit. 

The Dragon all alone in the ghost town

On one sultry evening we took a stroll to find that Melaka is a ghost town unless it is a Friday night. No one told the sewer rats to stay home; I don't think they were interested in the ubiquitous karaoke. It wasn't bad enough I had to listen to R2 and Lori scream through not one, two, or three rats, there were four rats running near the gutter on a deserted street. I knew this trip was going to go from bad to worse if we saw more.

Often, if I didn't have any bad luck, I would not have any luck at all when it comes to the flying and grounded vermin and roaches. My worst fears were confirmed as we walked down another  creepy, darkened street the following night, on the hunt for a decent reflexology treatment. I saw the rat, the rat saw me and it was Mickey Mouse go-time. He went scurrying down the gutter towards Lori like a bat outta hell, but I kept my yap shut and my inner screams stifled. I was hoping they wouldn't see what I saw for fear of having to revive them both from a case of the Vapours. 

The famous river - where the rats band together

I was in the clear; the disgusting vermin made a beeline for the garbage heap and they were none the wiser.  Oh no, as with monkeys, if you see one, there are fourteen more surrounding you; same deal with the rats. All of the sudden, the tick-infested, nasty rat made an attempt down the fifty yard line, right past Lori, and between R2's longs legs."Game on, Rat," I thought. Lori's screams could be heard in Indonesia and R2 tried to kick that rat for a field goal, up the middle. The attempt, like the Saskatchewan Roughriders, was unsuccessful, but I imagine it felt good to try to punt him like a futbol.  So much for an enjoying a quiet foot massage with Lori and Arturo screaming, shouting and carrying on like school girls from the latest Ratcsapade.

We boogied back to the hotel and had a shower (not together) to rid ourselves of the rat image. An early night was probably the best after two nights of the cheeky buggers. 

The next day, we had a long ride back on a crowded bus to Singapore through two borders, a beer drinker and immigration officers from Dante's Inferno.  I just hoped none of the rats jumped in our luggage because getting into Singapore Customs is tough.

Monsoons and Motor Scooters

The color of the Andaman Sea in Thailand

There is a reason we respect safety signs: "Dangerous Curve Ahead", "Biohazard Area, Stay Out” or "Hard Helmet Area" are signs posted for a purpose. So why did my sister, Lori and I not heed the "Monsoon Season, Dangerous Riptides" advice generously displayed everywhere in Phuket, Thailand? Perhaps because we were there for action and excitement; it was our first vacation together and we were in a place that cried decadence and adventure.

It was my mission to provide "THE Beach Experience" for my sister and I wanted more than the overcrowded Karon beach outside of our rustic hotel. We decided to snorkel and see what all the fuss about Thailand's heavenly beaches was about.  We found a southern tour that would take you to Raya Island for one thousand Baht. At this secluded island, we were promised we could snorkel from the boat, look for tiny sharks and rays and then chill on the other side, enjoying the aquamarine water, white sand and sea breeze. What I didn't take into account was the dangerous, rough water we would have to navigate to get to the destination. All of this, led by a sun-baked man named Tiger, and a boat full of Russians, Mainland Chinese and two hick town women from Canada.

Packed like Sardines on the boat

We were shuttled to the ferries early in the morning and herded into a canopied shack to wait for our turn to board the rickety speed boat. While waiting we were told by Tiger that under no circumstance should we take off our lifejackets onboard, and that on every boat he commandeers, someone throws up their noodle breakfast. He handed out anti nausea pills like candy and I wondered what I had got us into as I popped pill after pill. No way were my eggs coming up with a boat load of people that didn't speak English.

We were ushered to the boat and due to high tide and rough water we had to board from the beach, through  the murky sea. We were handed life jackets that were either too large or too small and told to make sure they were secure. They loaded the boat so tight, we were stuck together from our sweat. Body odor was starting to emanate. "Move it people, let's get a breeze going."

I should have kept that thought pushed further down because within minutes, we were on the way to Raya, through monsoon waves. As Tiger explained, "During monsoon season, we get waves all day, we get waves all night, we get waves every day." Why didn't we listen to him before we boarded, why, why?

The trip to the island is usually 30 minutes but with the three meter swells pummeling the packed boat, it was over 45 minutes. We were completely drenched as the water tried to overcome the craft.

Kitesurfing on Karon Beach

What I learned on this trip is that Mandarin, Russian and English speakers all scream "Wooo" the same way.  The woman beside me must have had bruises from me clutching her leg when the boat became airborne. I am not sure she understood, "Sorry" but she just smiled and patted my hand. My sister was the only person on the boat not nervous.  She sang Bob Marley songs to keep me from pitching a fit, as I prayed to Buddha, Allah and did Hail Marys until the ocean subsided.

Finally we got past the bucking waves to calm, crystalline water and all was forgotten.  I couldn't get on my "cheap, Made in Taiwan" snorkel gear fast enough.  Hey, those were Tiger's words, not mine, as I exited the boat. Tiger also insisted on giving us more racial stereotyping before we all jumped. "Chinese are not allowed to drown on my watch, because Chinese can't swim." This old bugger was less than politically correct.

He was kind enough to snorkel with me and help me locate a Sting Ray hiding amongst the colorful coral; the highlight of the trip for me. Swimming with Tiger was not. All of his spitting and hacking from his strong Thai cigarettes into the pristine water, was less than appealing.

Soon it was time to venture to the other side of the island for relaxation and lunch. We were chauffeured by an incredibly classy tractor pulling a flatbed, but only if you were female.  All the men had to hike in the blazing sun to the other side, past the meandering Water Buffalo, just in time to lay down for a late morning siesta.

What a sight to behold, monsoon or not, on the other side of the island. Finally I got to see the white sand and dazzling water I had read so much about. Keeping to a tight schedule we scampered over to a large shack on the beach that was disguised as a restaurant. We literally had to scramble over rocks and sand bags to get to the entrance.  Safety, be damned in Thailand.

Scrambling over the rocks to the restaurant

I was warning my sister that in Asia, queues mean nothing, when three women tried to bypass her in line. Her piano teaching instincts took over and she informed these rogues "budders" she was next.  The chastised women slunk to the back of the line, HA! We were rewarded with Tom Yum Soup, and unidentifiable deep fried veg, plantains and pineapple.

We still had to return to Phuket, and I would like to say the waves had subsided, but that would be wrong. If nothing else, the boat was more jam-packed and the waves were higher.  I am not certain how we managed to bring more people onboard, or where they came from, but this time, there were not enough life jackets for everyone.  Tiger tried to tell me I would be fine, to which I told him, "Not bloody likely."  He miraculously found one for me and then tried to entertain the green passengers with brain twisting puzzles.

Ladyboys are everywhere in Phuket

The rest of the trip was a whirlwind of Ladyboys, dancing, cheap booze and hot, hotter, and hottest days. Nothing out of the extraordinary happened if you don't take into account that women that once used to be men proposition you every two steps, and you see nasty, old Western men with "Younger Than Their Grandchildren" girlfriends.  While this may seem strange to some, it is perfectly normal in Thailand. It is Vegas, but 95 per cent more insane, naughty, wild and raunchy all rolled into one.

On the day we were to leave, I had organized a taxi to pick us up for our early flight on Tiger Airlines (Yes, everything in Thailand is named Tiger). Of course, the taxi didn't show, and the thousands of taxis you see during the night were all sleeping at this ungodly hour. 

I had security, and workers all running up and down the street trying to flag down a taxi, when a man on a motor scooter flew by, jammed on his brake and yelled, "Taxi?" I told him to hurry because we needed to get to the airport.  He looked at the luggage, then Lori, and told me to hop on.  I roared off, leaving her with the bags on the side of the road, while we located his taxi. In just a few short minutes we zoomed back to pick her up and blaze through every red light in Phuket. I ended up paying him almost double what I would have paid the airport taxi, but at this point, I would have paid him anything.

Selling crepes on the street - yummy

When safely ensconced in Singy I spilled the adventure beans to R2, who challenged me with, “Darling, you will not know travel until you go to Phuket with me, so brace yourself. We will take in Ping-Pong Shows, serpent entertainment, and Hunt for The Red October.” He is probably right, traveling with the Mexican whirling dervish will provide stories that are highly censored in the puritan society of Singapore. I guess I will have to wait until October when we make another visit to Thailand: The Land of Smiles.

From No-tell Motels to Putting on the Ritz

Former Sisal Plantation - now a resort

It occurred to me that I have stayed in some unique lodgings since I began this travelling journey called, "My Life”.  I have stayed in unmentionables to forgettables to memorables and everything in-between throughout dozens of countries. Often they meld into one, however there are times they are extraordinary and not always in a positive way.

On a recent trip to Thailand I booked a budget hotel. Not expecting much, except a white sand beach across the road, I got what I paid for. What I didn't pay for, was frequent visits from wretched rats in the pool area. We tried to explain the rat situation to the neighboring Russian tourists with charades and hand gestures. It wasn't until we said, "Mickey Mouse" did they understand and started to scream on our decibel level.

The best resorts - always Mexico

When I travel with R2, I am usually in for a treat. His entire life has been hotel rooms and suitcases so he makes certain a king-sized bed (not always an easy find in Asia) with a decent mattress and plush bedding is in the room.  Me, I prefer wifi. When I can't connect, my head starts to spin, my eyes roll back in my head and I begin to froth at the mouth. Not being connected to friends and family is not in the realm of my techno-world. Heaven help the On-Duty Manager if I can’t find wifi in the hotel.

Cant resist dinner at the Four Seasons Langkawi

His frequent traveling has garnered him status in many hotels so as the "tag-along" spouse, I have to admit I enjoy the Platinum Perks. I have come a long way from the wooden shacks on the beach I used to afford, to the Four Seasons Resort in Langkawi.  We have been upgraded to a suite so large in Sydney, Australia, I sent out an All Points Bulletin on R2 because I lost him in one of the rooms. Turns out he was in the gargantuan sunken tub, testing the bath salts and water temperature.

When we travel with guests we tend to pay, so the accommodations are not quite as swank.  When my son Lucas visited with his girlfriend, Sam, who could forget the "upgrade" in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia that looked like bullet holes had peppered the ceiling, towels so threadbare you could almost see through and a bathroom door that you could see through. Not much privacy for four people.

Bintan, Indonesia - cottages on the beach

There was the cabin on the beach in Tioman, Malaysia where the double beds were so small, R2 and I had to stay motionless all night for fear of landing on the sandy floor. We had R2's son in the bed next to us so the snoring between two men was in stereo for my listening enjoyment.

We took a three week holiday from the Caribbean Sea to the Gulf of Mexico a couple of years ago. We stayed in a lodge in Chichen Itza, Quintana Roo that was in the middle of the jungle with no phones, TV or...gasp...wifi. What it did have was a healthy herd of scorpions. I wondered why R2 told me to check my shoes before I put them on. What he didn't tell me was that he was pulverizing scorpions in the porch before I fainted dead away.

Also on this countrywide journey, he booked us into a five-star transformed Hacienda in Temozon that used to be a working Sisal plantation. The Hacienda was Colonial Mexico at its finest from the swinging hammocks in the room, to the outdoor private tub filled with hibiscus flowers. The only detraction at this locale was the swimming baby bat in the infinity pool. The drenched black vermin put a damper on my need to dip in the water, no matter how hot I was, in July, in Mexico.

Beverly Hills is THE place to people watch

Dinner for the Schmucks was a Rotten Tomato bomb but I didn't care when we stayed in the Beverly Hills Hilton. It was the Premier of the movie at this famous hotel and Steve Carell and Paul Rudd held the elevator for us.  I tried to play it cool until they left the elevator where the media and other celebrities were gathered. That is when I began my celebrity-spotting dance and shouted, "The 40-Year Old Virgin" just held the door for us and told us to “Have a nice day”.  So much for being calm, cool and collected.

I have stayed in rooms with canopied beds which always leave R2 with a bruise when he forgets, stands up, and bashes his head. I have lain awake at nights listening to crickets and geckos you know are in the room with you. I have luxuriated in bathtubs so large, a family of four could live in it, and I have sat on balconies to watch the most magnificent sunsets on over-the-top tropical properties. I have also killed spiders, mosquitoes and chased lizards from the “not so nice” resorts we manage to find ourselves, on occasion.

India was interesting for accommodations. We had a lovely suite in Bangalore however, right beside the hotel (one that had armed guards checking every vehicle that entered the facility for bombs) was a slum with  shoeless children begging and rummaging through the rubbish, next to the rats. 

Our private pool in Jaipur - amazing property

We went to several cities in India and luckily R2 made certain the accommodations were livable.  We stayed in the Tree of Life, outside of Jaipur that without a doubt was the most heavenly property I have stepped foot on. Sadly for me, in Agra the day before, I managed to eat something that gave me a two week stint of what the locals call Delhi Belly. I did appreciate the massive, marble bathroom because that is where I spent two days, lying on the floor, hoping someone could put me out of my misery.

Many people I talk to, think what R2 and I do, is strange, or exotic. People often tell me how lucky we are to be on this quest. After living in Asia for seven months, my life is not much different from the hundreds of thousands of expats in Singapore, and beyond. Twenty or thirty countries is nothing compared to many people I have met.  We are newbies at this life even though R2 has been at this game for over twenty years. 

How big of a bruise will I get?  Rothenburg, Germany

It really makes no difference if the accommodations are quaint and rustic or if they are grand and opulent. Either way, we manage to find an adventure. In the five years we have been together, three of those were spent apart while he worked afar and I got up each day for my government job, so if he puts us up at the Ritz Carleton or the Roach Motel, as long as we are together on this traveling expedition, we are contented and home. 

Now can someone please tell the rats, bats and creepy, crawly things they aren’t welcome?

Don't Boar Me

The bumboat that takes you to Ubin

It is hard for people to imagine that Singapore has over fifty natural islands, a handful of artificial ones and many more now lost to land reclamation. Many of the natural islands are not available to the public, used by the military or are uninhabited, Luckily, there are a couple of islands that you can still visit for a few hours to escape the maddening crowds of Singapore and catch a slight breeze to cool your senses.

I took my sister to such an island; Pulau Ubin is home of the wild boars and rouge monkeys. After seeing all the slick, high-end architecture in Singy, I wanted to show Lori what life was like before the fame and fortune hit The Tiny Red Dot.

Houses on stilts in Ubin

They say Ubin is what Singapore was in the 60s. Hard to imagine when you see the tiny homes on stilts, eateries that are mere shacks, one lane dirt roads and a small jetty where the bum boats dock. If there was a toilet on the island, I didn't see it and it was probably of the squat-and-dip variety.

Singapore of today is glitz, glamour and as high end as you can imagine. The country recently celebrated its 47th birthday so the transformation in this short time is nothing less than remarkable.

One of the many bike rentals shops

It wasn't my first trip to Ubin so I knew what to expect. Lori, however didn't know the only way around this hilly, granite isle was by bicycle. After looking at row upon row of rusted, decrepit bikes, she informed me she hadn't ridden in over ten years. Nothing like baptism by fire and I planned to baptize her on a ride with barely-there-brakes, one speed and steering that resembled a pulverized grocery cart.

I could see this brilliant plan of mine going south quickly but we managed to find her a "weecycle" because she is only five feet tall. Surprisingly, she looked like a pro after only a short time so we continued on our merry way, hunting for the wild animals I promised. Lori felt more confident when we happened upon some Japanese tourists that not only were newbie cyclists, the ladies all had training wheels on their grown up bikes. Not an easy feat when riding mountain bikes up rocky terrain. 

Lori was delighted in the Jackfruit trees, the Lotus ponds and all the tropical vegetation we passed. What she wasn't delighted with was the amount of sweat cascading out of every pore. Whoever was the one that said women "glow, not perspire" obviously grew up in a cold country; perhaps Canada?

Watermelon baby coming to check me out

As luck would have it, before my sister liquefied into a puddle, I found the shy mama and baby boars that hide in the trees, only showing themselves when they cross the road. We got lucky when we quietly rested under a gazebo watching and waiting. It wasn't long before many boars appeared. The babies were so curious they came right to us so Lori was able to see the unfamiliar, watermelon striping on their bristly bodies.

It wasn't much longer when I heard the unmistakable racket of the Long-tailed Macaques. She was in for a treat today. We saw dozens of monkeys in the bush, some carrying their infants, some scampering from tree to tree and many just running alongside of the boars, hoping to spot some unsuspecting tourist and grab their food. 

It was at this point where we had to park our bikes and hike the rest of the way on the coastal boardwalk. We saw outlandish mudskippers, fiddler crabs and kaleidoscopic butterflies. We sat on the boardwalk for a long time trying to determine how I happened to be living more than 14,000 km from home and if I would ever get back to Canada. We counted the planes that flew overhead landing at Changi Airport. We marveled at the amount of air and ship traffic coming to Singapore. 

Lori trying her first and only Ice Kacang

It was time to head back to the city so Lori could have her daily Kopi Ice (Iced Coffee) and her first taste of Ice Kacang. I knew the cold beans, corn, and attap chee nuts would cool her down or terrify her so much she would forget how tin-roof roasted she was.

What a big day for my big sister.  She got to observe some mystifying nature, conquer bike riding and experience up-close and personal time with a boar. Usually in Saskatchewan from where we hail, the only bristly boars we see are the kind at the small-town country bars on the weekend. For her sake, I hope this will be more memorable.

Who Knew? Weekend in Bintan, Indonesia

New York is the city that never sleeps however Singapore is a city always open for business. There is  something going on continually, but that doesn't seem to stop R2 and I from wanting to escape the crowds and the heat on the weekends.

Our last mini vacation was to Bintan, Indonesia for 36 well deserved hours. Yes, I did say 36 hours in another country. Seems strange when I come from a land you have to drive four hours just to reach the border.

The long, sandy beach

The interesting part of this journey was learning we were taking Emerald Class on the ferry to Bintan. I was skeptical because I heard this story in Agra, India. We reserved a First Class train ticket to Jaipur and that meant the cockroaches were dead in your berth instead of bunking in on the seat beside you, in coach.

I have been on a bum boat, a speed boat and a Chinese Junk but this was my first time on a ferry in Asia so I was quite excited; that was until I saw the massive queue waiting to find the idyllic weekend paradise as well. Oh, so now the Emerald Class makes sense. We were processed and sent on our merry way to the lounge efficiently. The best $20 upgrade R2 has made. They even processed our Visa Upon Arrival for us without the lineup. I like Emerald Class!

Being the intrepid observer I am, I noticed how warm and friendly the people of Indonesia are. I thought the folks in small town Malaysia were kind but you can't beat the Indonesians for trying their best. Most don't speak a lot of English but they always greeted you with a toothy smile, and did their utmost to accommodate you.

Mind the flies

R2 and I went to the local hawker station, never the kind to sit long on a beach. We had a fantastic massage and the workers told us where the locals eat. Bintan is so small, there is little choice for food unless you head to the tourist spots. I wished we had made our way to the tourist hang-outs because I was having a hard time getting past the flies covering the food. I stuck to the safest bet; bottled water.

Cars from long ago remain here

While R2 was debating which food was going to give him less food poisoning, I sat at a dirty table and noticed three little boys staring, pointing and trying to get my attention.

One bravely tried his English and gave me a hearty, "Hello." When I returned the smile and the hello, he and his friends burst into fits of giggles and covered their eyes. It was delightful to see these 10 year olds so charming and completely shy over a white skinned, green eyed woman. It is a safe bet to say I stood out in the small non-tourist area of Bintan.

What happened next still has me shaking my head. We were approached, as you often are as a tourist to buy something, massage something or eat something. This is not the shocking part. What floored me is that R2 answered the men in Indonesian, which in turn, mystified them.

They asked him in their language where he learned to speak and where he was from. Imagine their surprise (at this point, I pretended I knew about this feat all along) when he told them he learned in Jakarta and he was from Mexico. It wasn't long before my 6'3" husband became a walking god amongst the townspeople. They all bowed and nodded to him, leaving us alone. I know R2 is quite fluent in Italian, Spanish, English, French and can speak a smattering of Malay but had no idea about Indonesian.  R2 is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you will get when he is around.

Not my photo but this is the lizard

Being in shock and not even wanting to ask why I didn't know he could speak this language, imagine my next surprise when a lizard flew by. It took a moment to realize it was a lizard and that yes, I did see it fly. At this point, I was in the Bizzaro World so seeing a flying lizard made perfect sense. Earlier in the day I saw a 220 pound Boa Constrictor so why not a flying lizard.

A Week of Firsts

Life is filled with many firsts. First communion, first kiss, first dance, first marriage, but as you get older, those firsts are rare. When you are in another country for an undetermined amount of time, it is easy to slide into in a slump and fall back into familiar patterns of your life back home expecting everything to be the same.  It never will.

I made a conscious decision to have more "Firsts" while in Asia. I have been here six months now and my new experiences are slowly disappearing while I wait for my sister Lori to visit me. It was time for me to leave the computer and start expanding my horizons.

My son getting his ear candled in Singapore

My first First was something I have been curious about for a long time. Asia is the home of untraditional, holistic medicine, acupuncture, and herbs and potions that come in a variety of exotic forms. Recently, I had a chance to visit Revive Holistic Center on famous Haji Lane in Kampong Glam to alleviate my curiosity. I was pleasantly surprised to meet a tiny, dynamo of a woman named Pratima Nagaraj who has many credentials behind her name. She is not only a certified Hypnotherapist, she has an MBA, and is a Reiki Grand Master to name only two services she provides. She left the corporate IT world and has dedicated her life to helping others through various holistic methods.

Pratima explained the process, telling me hypnotherapy is not magic and if you aren't willing to modify your behavior, whether it is kicking the smokes, losing weight, managing pain, etc., it won't work.  You must have the willpower and desire to change. Hypnotherapy will provide the suggestions in your sub-conscious but you must be willing to accept the hypnotic suggestions. This was my first time with Pratima but I am looking forward to our next session where she will hypnotize me for two hours. If I feel as good as I did the first time (I was "under" for 25 minutes), I can't imagine the benefits of two hours. So far, her therapy and suggestions have revived my outlook on life.

He was a hoot!

My second First was meeting some "IN" friends that  took me to one of the most ultra luxe lounges in the world. I grew up  in small town Saskatchewan, Canada with two working parents so the thought of going to a night club that hosts the obscenely rich is not something I am familiar with. When you have four kids all involved in music and sports, there isn't money to hobnob with partygoers at Pangaea in Singapore.

They call Pangaea the Ferrari of the Nightclub world and I believe it. Partygoers have animal skinned sofas to perch on and 1,000 year old trees to set their drinks when they become weary of holding a $50 Martini.  For the opportunity to do so, the wealthy can reserve a table for $2,000 all the way to $15,000 for the Dragon Den meant so the uber rich can lord over the merely rich. This is "THE" spot you will see A-listers like Madona, Kate Moss and John Travolta but I wasn't so lucky. What I did get to see was a marvelous cross dresser named Miss Stevious who was decked out in fucsia pink from head to toe. We compared clothes and he asked if I would give up my blouse and purse which matched his cotton candy wig. Find your own bag, buddy.

My third First was an invite to a Japanese friend's home. While this may seem like an everyday occurrence, it is not.  Japanese are more accustomed to entertaining outside their home because most houses in Japan are so small. My friend Mami (Mommy) is a wonderful friend, who has been learning English while living in Singapore.  We don't always understand each other but we have many laughs and a lot of Charades. She invited me and a few other friends, one being Korean, so believe me, there was a language barrier.

Mami has me hooked on Takoyaki

None of that seemed to matter when Mami began preparing Takoyaki which is a ball-shaped Japanese snack filled with grilled octopus, pickled ginger and sprinkled with dried seaweed. Delicious, delicious, delicious is all I can say. We laughed so much because almost everything we said had to be translated into Korean, English or Japanese. I did manage to teach the ladies important western phrases.  "Shake your booty," "Get out of my face," and "Sucks to be you" are important expressions every person must know.

My fourth and last First was conquering a beach. I have tried countless times to ride my hybrid bike to Changi Beach, in the far eastern heartland of Singapore. I have only been there once before when R2 and I got lost riding and thought we were going to expire in the mid-day sun. Changi Beach is about 20 km from my home and I have never been back since.

After my trip to the hypnotherapist, I decided I was going to make the ride; 40 km in total. I am not only happy to report I conquered the beach, and then some, I went back again. It seems what Pratima has suggested to me through hypnotherapy has done the trick. I am a new woman, ready to tackle anything.

Changi Beach - you don't scare me

A week of Firsts was an eyeopener. There is nothing you can't do, if you set your mind to it.  I will take that under advisement when my sister from Moose Jaw and I go on the hunt for perfect sand in Phuket, Thailand or dance with gorgeous ladyboys on Patong Beach. No matter what the next First will be, I am well equipped;  not bad for a kid who grew up in a prairie town of 35,000 people and didn't step on her First plane until she was 18 years old.