Unexpected--Chris

Expect the Unexpected

There is always something important to do. We have a package to mail in Phnom Penh. We need to find out how to get from the Xi’an train station to our hotel. We don’t know how to get to the bus station in Siem Reap. Should we hire a guide at the Royal Palace? Where is the guide service at S-21? Should we bypass Bangkok because of the curfew and political turmoil? All of these questions compete, and we are certain that a solid solution will relieve our travel anxiety.

This does not hold true. For as every traveler knows, we must expect the unexpected. First there is the intention of what we had hoped to accomplish, and finally, there is the real and unexpected outcome. That is what keeps us addicted to traveling, for whenever we think everything is going well, something happens that totally changes our perspective.

Unexpected Sample A---Mailing the Package         

Intention:  We have purchased items to mail back to the USA from Phnom Penh, Cambodia. We can just ship them home cheaply through a travel shipping service, for there is no rush.

What really happened:  We try to find someone to wrap and mail items we had purchased in the Cambodian open market since we have limited space with only carry-on luggage for eight weeks. Our tuk-tuk diver drives us to DHL where they will ship our two kilos of stuff in THREE DAYS for $250! Can we have a longer, cheaper method? No, there is only 2 day or 3 day. Just what we need, with our mail already being held at the post office for two months! What about the regular Cambodian post office? We query our driver, and he is amazed that we want to use their system, and quickly sets off to drive us there, pointing out the entrance to a large important building at the top of many steps. Inside, we are on our own. No guides or interpreters, sweat pouring down our backs and legs. Only a few people are mailing things. For a huge city, the post office seems empty. After going to the wrong window several times, we stand before a woman who nods that she will mail our loot. She takes the plastic bag of goods and begins wadding and stuffing it into an impossibly small carton which she has retrieved from behind a Buddhist alter stuck out in the middle of the dusty, littered workplace. I shake my head and indicate that I do not want her to squish my lovely woven bag into a broken fiber mass (I had haggled over the bag with a vendor for ½ hour inside a closed 100 degree market stall before finally coming to sweat-drenched agreement!) and she looks surprised. At that point she and two other workers begin a ½ hour process of constructing a new carton composed of many leftover cardboard scraps and several rolls of tape. I watch all this as they debate it, add on cornices, and tape and retape and then refortify the previous layers of tape. Finally, a real box that fits. And a lid. And then for the label, she hands me a used piece of paper to write my address on, as well as the return address of our hotel in Phnom Penh. Then this paper is also taped onto the massive sticky layers. There. It is done. The cost for 2.5 kilos is $70.  It will take, she estimates, 6-8 weeks. Okay she asks?  Yes, considering we won’t be home for 7 weeks, that will be perfect. And insurance? What’s that? We laugh and realize nothing could penetrate the barrier of tape.

Unexpected Outcome:  The joy of watching three people wrap and mail our package, the pride of the tuk-tuk driver when he saw that we wanted to use the Cambodian mail system, the irony that we don’t need three–day service on an 8-week trip, the adventure of finding the correct window for mailing and transacting the deal, the enjoyment of observing the way business takes place at a Cambodian post office before the smiling gaze of a well-stocked Buddhist alter (offered were an orange, several glasses of water, incense, flowers, and some rice). We look forward to meeting up with our package in Olympia.

Unexpected Sample B---Arriving at the Station Alone

It’s always of flurry of confusion as you step off a bus, plane, or train in a foreign port. Seemingly 5 or 6 people rush to help you, grabbing at your belongings and urging you to use their taxi, tuk-tuk, rickshaw, hotel, and travel service. Of course for a great bargain. Who do you trust?  The touts of each country have their own codes and strategies. Sometimes we can’t bear the frenzy, so we hire someone to meet us ahead of time (remember Casaron-the stick-to-you guide in Beijing?) Other times, we worry about what we will do, and then plunge in hoping for the best.

Intention: Get to our hotels on our own from train and bus stations in Xi’an and Phnom Penh, China.

What really happened:  After traveling all night on a Chinese train from Beijing to Xi’an, we stepped off the train car onto the rail platform into a sea of people migrating…. Somewhere….how is it everyone except us seems to know where they are going?--- so we joined in, assuming it would be to the exit of the train station. Which exit should we head for and on what street would we be heaved and then what? A nicely attired Chinese man smiled at Don and asked if he could help us find our way. He was also in migration, and we assumed he had just gotten off the train as well. He helped us through the station towards the proper exit. Then, he asked if we had a hotel (we did) oh and did we need transportation? Well, duh. Long story short, we met Jack. And Jack had a car parked in an underground lot nearby to which he whisked us before we could even figure out what was happening, and suddenly he is driving us to our hotel and miracle upon miracle, he shows us tour brochures and can drive us anywhere anytime for as long as we live. And he did. Oh yes, Jack was our main man the rest of our stay in Xi’an.

Unexpected Outcome:  Jack’s English was fairly limited, but he knew where everything was and waited for us outside our venues, and of course took us to his uncle’s Chinese restaurant for lunch. He told us interesting tidbits, such as how if you live in the countryside and only have a daughter, that you can sometimes pay the government (or someone 10,000 RMB about $1463 US dollars) and be allowed to conceive a second child-- prices and conditions may vary.) He pointed out, as we had noticed throughout China, that one child per family created very loving, devoted families. He had a hard time believing that we have three sons. Wow. Three! They cost more than $1463 I’ll tell you.  I’d like to do another post on Chinese children…I believe what we heard from Jack is really true. We never saw a fussing Chinese child. They were always in someone’s loving arms or being adored by all those around. Never did we see them hauled in large plastic baby totes, but instead nestled in human arms or securely wrapped close to a parent’s body. It makes me stop and think. The children we have seen in Cambodia (and some in Thailand), and certainly in America, do not seem so saturated with care giving…often due to the large number of kids being handled by only one or two parents. The only child of China is certainly a different perspective of childrearing.

The Bus Station in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Intention: Get to our hotel without a hassle.

What really happened: Once again, we straggled off the bus onto the streets of Phnom Penh in disarray, and wondered where to find our two bags that had been stowed with other luggage beneath the bus’s belly. At this point, you always hope your luggage will still be there, because it is almost impossible to keep checking outside the window every time the bus halts somewhere. An employee guided us to the back of an overheated luggage storage area. And there were our bags sitting prettily together, looking calm and ready for our next venture. Then, the attendant kindly helped us carry them to the exit, and asked if we needed a tuk-tuk. We said yes and he indicated we should wait. We did, and he suddenly showed up driving a tuk-tuk, miraculously transformed from bus employee to taxi driver. Oh yes, he stuck with us our whole visit to Phnom Penh, took us the following day to the post office, to the S-21 memorial, Killing Fields, and more. Why did we worry about being taken care of? And why do I think we will be alone on this trip?  There is always someone looking after us. They spot us a mile away, and then offer attentive, quiet, and totally personal service.

Unexpected Outcome: How did we know who to trust?  First, you have to look the person in the eye and guess if their soul is good. If you make a good call, then all the rest goes smoothly. It’s operating from the gut with some luck added on. Just today, for example, we traveled in Thailand between two islands. When we arrived here in Krabi, we did not have a hotel. One of the wooden long-tail boat taxi men at the pier questioned us. We said we needed to get into town. He said to wait a minute. Then he leaped onto a motorcycle. In 5 minutes, he reappeared driving a car. He then drove us to two different hotels while we looked and tried to decide where to stay. We showed him our map, but it was obvious that he couldn’t read English, and perhaps couldn’t read a map. But he figured it out. In a dire situation he could deliver us by boat, moto, or vehicle. What more could we ask? The unexpected gift is that people are caring and hospitable. Yes, they are also paid. But what we pay these drivers, guides, and navigators, is a pittance (a taxi ride in Krabi was $8 for 45 minutes of transport), because they not only provide a service, but offer it hoping to please us, to meet our needs, and to earn a living for their families. They do so with grace.

Unexpected Sample C- Seeing the Royal Palace

Intention: visit the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Should we hire a guide?

What really happened:  We walked to the Royal Palace. It is gold and glittery and has Buddhist temples on the grounds. The white façade with gilt trim, along with the touches of the royal blue national color, is astounding. Flags wave and beautiful gardens and flowers surround the walks and buildings. It was a steamy Sunday, and I had to have my shoulders and arms covered and Don wore long pants as was protocol. At the entrance gate, the ticket taker ripped off our stubs. It is low season, so most visitors were Cambodian families. There were a few Europeans and Chinese as well. As we entered, the ticket taker asked if we would like a tour. This is something we had discussed, because the guide book recommended hiring someone since the site did not have many explanations in English. We said, okay, yes. Before we could even do the ‘s’ sound in yes, the ticket taker threw our stubs into the bushes and leaped over the barrier, appearing at our side. Yes, he would be our guide for $5.00 US. Oh great. Don and I gave one another the eye. But too late.

Unexpected Outcome: This guide turned out to be amazing. He spoke clear English, knew everything about the Royal Palace, and was very interested in discussing current Cambodian culture and trends. From him we learned that many Cambodian youth spend 3 to 6 months or so as Buddhist apprentices, often during the rainy season.  Even our guide had done the same. For this, the males shave their heads and wear the bright orange robes, and study at a religious center. Afterwards, they re-integrate back into the regular Cambodian culture. Few young boys commit to the lifelong rigorous monk training at age 10, because their parents feel it is a hard life. (In contrast, we have seen in Northern India in the Tabo area, that families give up their first male child to become a monk at about age eight. It is expected in that part of the world.) We also learned from our Cambodian palace guide that the events of the Pol Pot regime and Killing Fields are not taught in the schools as they once were, and that many Cambodians are forgetting the genocide that occurred when ½ of the country’s population was murdered and died of disease and starvation in the 1970s. The guide/ticket-taker’s information about the Royal Palace was exceptional as well. It turned out to be a fantastic two hours. At the end, our guide thanked us with palms together at his chin and bowed. He apologized for any errors he may have made on the tour, and for his poor English. Don and I thanked him profusely and gave him more payment than he had requested.  

Expected Sample D- A Not Tour of Bangkok

Intention:  Visit and tour Bangkok for two days.

What Really Happened:  at Koh Phi Phi Don, a small island accessible only by wooden long-tail boat. We did not go. While in Thailand, the Red-shirt tyranny grew more violent, and curfews were imposed. Rather than being held hostage in our hotel, or perhaps face other problems linking to the rest of our trip, we regretfully decided to cancel our days in Bangkok. As a result of that decision, we were ‘forced’ to spend more days in other parts of Thailand, and extended our stay

Unexpected Outcome: During this stay we connected with two honeymooning Spanish couples (May 8 was the wedding date for both of them….and they hadn’t known each other before they met on the dive boat with us!) We did two scuba dives with them, and the next day invited them over for copitas (cocktails.) 
They are approximately the ages of our own kids, so entertaining them seemed very comfortable. We had been upgraded to a romantic beachfront cottage with bamboo and glass sides which could be opened or closed for privacy and comfort, affording a sweet patio for our evening beverages which began about 8:30 pm. Talking about our lives, our countries, the differences in economic outlooks, and our hopes and fears for the future was stimulating, and we learned more information about how these young Spanish adults are moving in their worlds. They are educated, work in film, finance, law, and economics. Their English is fantastic, but they are very humble. One of them spoke fluent French as well. They told us about their parents, their lives in Barcelona and Madrid. We spoke of Obama, their current politics, what they think of the banking crisis in Spain. We will never forget Daniel, Lora, Madrice, and Nacho, and we wish them the longest and most glorious marriages ever.

Another unexpected benefit of this stay on Phi Phi was seeing and learning about the sea gypsy culture in Asia. Our hotel was located close to an encampment of sea gypsies. Semi nomadic seafarers called the Chow Lair live in Phi Phi, harboring sanctuary there after sloshing around the Malay Peninsula for generations. Now that tourism has taken over their encampments and many nations are less welcoming to the nontaxpaying people who have little sense of boundary, the Zeavola resort and several other north Phi Phi resorts are educating and caring for the children and people of the encampment. We had dinner two nights at the gypsy restaurant, and enjoyed watching the children trek to school past our beach hut. The Chow Lair way of life may be changing; many of them are now long-tail boat taxi drivers and cooks in the tourist restaurants. Their children are being educated. But in the evening, the gypsy village rocks, and the adorable children frolic in azure waters and on the white powdery sand. This was an unexpected gift for us to behold.

Unexpected Sample E- Arrival at Ray Leh, Thailand

Intention:  Ferry to Koh Ray Leh from Phi Phi and stay two nights.

What really happened: We traveled ½ hour by long-tail boat to the ferry pier, then purchased our tickets in the usual confused manner, and boarded the ferry which traveled about 2 hours to Ray Leh. The ferry was for passengers only (could hold maybe 200 people) since there are no cars…the islands have no roads, only walking paths that meander through the village.  Passengers could ride above deck and sniff the sea and sunshine (of 95 degrees) or below at two levels in air-conditioned seats. Baggage stayed above. We arrived near Ray Leh about 3 pm at low tide. The ferry stopped dead in the water for those disembarking, and we had to transfer with 14 other passengers onto a decrepit long-tail wooden boat. These boats look like grasshoppers with propellers that are extended on long poles out the back so that they can maneuver in shallow water. BUT since the tide was out too far, even the long-tail boats stopped short of land, and forced us to hop out in almost waist deep water. Many travelers had backpacks, but Don and I had small roller bags. There was some sort of underwater sidewalk covered in slippery algae that we were supposed to walk down towards shore. It frightened me to death because of my hips (which I always strive to protect against falling.) Don, angel that he is, hoisted my suitcase onto his head and saved the day. New motto: Never carry more luggage than your husband can haul on his head, as well as manage his own belongings. (Don confessed to me later, that had he dropped our luggage into the water, it would have been too heavy for him to manage on his own.) But we made it!  Even though, after arriving at our hastily selected hotel, we had to change to three different rooms because the air conditioner wasn’t working, then the TV. (I don’t watch TV on vacation anyway unless there is a shopping center burning in Bangkok.) But, after having repairmen in our room for 4 hours straight and not being able to shower, I felt thrashed and became slightly gritchy. I complained to my husband about our bad AC karma and the waste of our time waiting for the repair. We again switched rooms, and finally, I showered and then felt better after our heated day of ferry transfers, wading ashore, and repeated room malfunctions. Before going to sleep, I noticed that the resort mechanic was still working in our abandoned room.

Unexpected: The next day as I left our new room, the same mechanic happened to walk by, dressed in his dark green one-piece outfit. He placed his palms together and bowed, then asked, “You have good night? Air condition better?” He smiled. Yes, I said, it is perfect. All is good, thank you. He appeared to be satisfied and proud. Then I thought about him. How he had worked until late, pouring sweat to fix a feisty machine, then probably proceeded home in 85% humidity to a poorly ventilated house with no AC, maybe not even running water. But here he was today, asking me how my night had been. I felt like the most selfish, whiny self-entitled tourist in Thailand.  And this resulted from a simple question, a smile, and a bow. An Unexpected Lesson.