If We Ever Meet Again

The end of the journey is in sight. And while I'm excited to go home and see friends and family, many for the first time in over a year, there are a lot of less fun things that need to be taken care of. Namely: doctor's appointments, finding a job, and figuring out where I'm going to live. (But actually, don't hesitate to get in touch if you know anyone who's looking to hire a pastry chef). I try to push these obligations to the back of my mind, but their gnawing presence on my to-do list can make it difficult to enjoy the present moment. 

My first night in Kuala Lumpur I hadn't planned on going out; it had been a long travel day and I wasn't feeling too social. If I wasn't already tired of repeating the same introductions to new people a month ago, now it just feels like a hassle. I don't try to come off as bored or antisocial, but after recapping my life story, goals and travel plans countless times it's a bit impossible to say it with the same enthusiasm that I had in the beginning. I wish I had a written out personal statement that I could just hand out like business cards for people to read on their own time.

After checking in and eating dinner, I pulled out my iPad to catch up on emails and freelance stuff. I opened Facebook to answer a message from the girl I'd watched the boxing match with in Bangkok, who had some questions about cities I'd already been to. Turns out she was online too.

"Wait."

"You're in KL?"

With location tracking enabled, it shows the sender's location under each sent message. Incidentally, she was staying in a hostel just up the road from mine. We met up shortly after at the Central Market, where she'd spotted a batik artwork store that lets you paint your own pre-drawn design. Even though we only had thirty minutes to complete our masterpieces before the shop closed, it was still pleasantly calming. Therapeutic, even. She seemed equally pleased about our fortuitous reunion since she, too, had reached a level of social fatigue from meeting new people. (If I hadn't turned up I think she would have just gone to paint alone).

The hardest part about making friends as an expat and traveler is knowing that, inevitably, one of you will leave the other behind. So seeing a familiar face again; someone who gets you and who you can have conversations with that aren't just probing questions feels like something pretty close to fate. It's happened before in Spain and Morocco, where I saw people again whom I had originally met elsewhere. Clearly, we were meant to be friends.

The Culinary Backstreets of Bali

By the time I made it through immigration at Denpasar airport (separate lines for purchasing a visitor's visa and getting your passport stamped; you can only pay cash and naturally the nearest ATM was out of order), it was fairly late at night. I was feeling a bit peckish but many places had already closed for the night so the friend whom I was staying with and who dutifully waited for me outside Starbucks - the wonderfully talented Talita of Talita's Kitchen - had her driver stop on the way home to pick up some freshly roasted corn smeared with chili sauce from a roadside stand. 

As we sat at the kitchen table devouring our hot corn, she warned me that bugs and other critters often found their way into the bathroom after dark - "the Bali experience," as she called it. Sure enough, that first night a beetle about the size of my palm descended through the gap between the slanted thatched roof and the wall, buzzing madly and ricocheting off every surface. I retreated to my bedroom, only returning when I heard the noise stop - I guess it had injured itself because it was trying unsuccessfully to crawl up the base of the toilet. It was too big to squish without making a huge mess so instead I trapped it under the laundry hamper. The following night a bug crawled out of the drain when I was taking a shower. It's funny; I'm okay with visiting countries with documented cases of violence against women on my own, but put me in proximity with anything that creeps or crawls and all hell breaks loose. 

Anyways, being a keen chef and foodie, Talita knew all the best places to eat and drink on the island. We had our first real dinner at the newly opened Cuca - a tapas restaurant whose head chef previously worked at the legendary elBulli. With its bold flavors, chic design, fresh ingredients, surprisingly modest prices and immaculate presentation, it was easily the best meal I've had on the trip thus far. Chef David has countless molecular gastronomy tricks up his sleeve (the hallmark of elBulli), like one of my favorite dishes - the Bali Breakfast - a bowl of whipped coconut confection with a mango "yolk" that broke and oozed just like the real thing when pricked with a fork. Joining us for dinner was Rafi, a new acquaintance of Talita's and the French expat mastermind behind Monsieur Spoon, which serves up the best millefeuille and viennoiseries I've had since leaving Paris.  

Over plates of barbecued octopus and marinated pulled pork, Rafi and Talita talked business ideas and industry anecdotes. As incredible as it's been seeing new things, meeting new people and finding inspiration in the exotic flavors of the local cuisine, I'm eager to embark on my own endeavor, especially after seeing some of the side projects and businesses my former classmates have started (Ornella-Bianca, Cupcake & Co, and Whisked, to name a few). Cooking classes have been a help, I suppose, but I really just want to get back in the kitchen and start working.

In addition to more established joints like Mozaic, Gusto Gelato, Potato Head and Rock Bar, Talita also took me to some low-key places mostly frequented by locals, where I got to try traditional dishes like suckling pig and mixed rice. Not only could she explain what everything was, but she also placed our orders in Indonesian and probably got better service than I would have on my own. That's been the most unexpected benefit of attending LCB - having friends from all over the world. 

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Eating and Drinking in Bali

For sweets: Monsieur Spoon (multiple locations) for pastries and Gusto Gelato 

For eats: Cuca, Mozaic and Bodag Maliah Cafe (an atmospheric organic restaurant situated in the middle of a rice paddy in Ubud; they grow their own ingredients) 

For drinks: Potato Head (inventive cocktails and upscale beach club vibe) and Rock Bar (it sits on a cliff right above the water and has amazing sunset views) 

Destination: Ubud

Typical reasons why people come to Bali might include beaches, resorts, and surfing, or temple visits and yoga retreats for the spiritually inclined. But I put this Indonesian island in my itinerary because I wanted to see rice paddies. They grow rice all over Asia, but nowhere else is it practiced quite like the subaks of Bali.

For an environmental anthropology seminar, I once had to lead discussion on a journal article by Clifford Geertz (or was it Lansing? I can't remember now). The piece itself was about as dry as any functionalist text on the emergent phenomenon of a structure that had simultaneous religious, political and economic roles, but when I Google image-searched Balinese subaks (a powerpoint wasn't required but anything that diverts attention away from my habitual blushing when I'm giving a presentation is a plus), the results caught my attention in a way that the article with its black-and-white charts could not. In a word, the subaks are beautiful. How could something so utilitarian, efficient and tried-and-true since ancient times be that pretty? I guess that's why he chose to study them; I mean who wouldn't want to do field research in Bali?

The entire region is essentially covered in rice paddies, but the most picturesque ones are in Ubud, a rather touristy area north of Denpasar that nonetheless boasts a great, laidback coffee culture vibe (imported by all the Aussie expats), good restaurants, and quirky shops and art galleries. The monkey sanctuary is a fun diversion (although its residents can be vicious - one grabbed my friend's purse when she opened it to get tissues thinking there was food inside), but my favorite place was Gunung Kawi - an ancient stone temple that's worth all the effort it takes to get there.

1. Ubud Monkey Forest. 

2. Subak near Gunung Kawi.  Subaks are protected as UNESCO World Heritage sites, but are on the brink of collapse because of the demand for development fueled by tourism.

3. The temple.

4. Offerings. 

5. Chemistry lab or coffee shop? Rejuvenating at Seniman Coffee Studio. 

Good Food, Green City

Many people  I met in Thailand made Singapore out to be a culturally sterile place, but I found that wasn't the case at all. (I guess for the hardcore backpacker set, it just wasn't exotic enough). It's definitely extremely modern and "Westernized" compared to the surrounding region, but there's quite a diverse mix of Chinese, Malays, Indians and expats. But nowhere is this mish mash more evident than the food scene.

Singapore is renowned for its street food delicacies prepared by hawkers that are held to rigorous hygiene standards and have been organized by the government into food centers scattered around the city. For dinner my friend took me to one of her favorites, Newton Circus. As she explained (and I later witnessed when venturing out on my own near the CBD), the street food here is very democratic - everyone indulges in it, even the financial heavyweights. And why wouldn't they? It's delicious.

I took the boat cruise around Singapore River one afternoon, which juxtaposed the country's two faces: beautifully preserved colonial buildings and bridges as well as sleek, ultramodern skyscrapers. I wish I could have photographed the architecture more, but it was drizzling constantly and I've already ruined one camera by exposure to water. 

Singapore also prides itself on being the greenest city in Asia - both literally and figuratively. The expansive Gardens by the Bay, a vast climate-controlled greenhouse complex that recycles water and runs off of sustainable energy, epitomizes this mentality. Scattered throughout the garden are little videos and informational checkpoints because, as my friend joked, "Everything in Singapore has to be educational."

Despite the dreary weather I went to the zoo on my last day. I suppose what makes this one so unique is that there are no cages. All the animals are in open enclosures, sometimes alarmingly so (i.e. what's stopping this lion from leaping over and attacking me sort of a feel). An hour after the zoo closes, the nearby Night Safari opens. As a kid going to the local Woodland Park Zoo, the small section for nocturnal animals was always my favorite. So an entire park dedicated to night creatures? I felt like I was reliving my childhood.

1. Gardens by the Bay with Marina Bay Sands in the background.

2. Retro building in Tiong Bahru.

3. Dinner at Newton Circus: chicken rice, sugar cane juice, vegetable roll and barbecue chicken.

4. Orchid garden on the roof of Buddha Tooth Relic Temple.

5. Chinatown.

Crazy Rich Asians

Continuing the trend of ways in which fiction has enhanced my understanding of specific places, I'd like to discuss Crazy Rich Asians, a dramedy of sorts about several wealthy families in southeast Asia (but mostly Singapore). Because as far as chick lit goes, it's actually surprisingly smart. Unlike other books about the lives of rich people that tend to just name drop designers left and right (see: anything ever written by Plum Sykes), author Kevin Kwan, who I believe based the characters off of people he knew growing up, offers some astute insight into a world that people outside of the region probably aren't aware even exists. I wouldn't go so far as to call it subversive, but there's enough social commentary to keep an anthropologist like myself interested enough to read it almost in one sitting. Plus, it's fun. And that's what summer reading is all about, right?

One of the main conflicts in the novel is that between the old wealth and new money. Just like the Long Island society of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, the families who come from generations of prosperity scorn those who have amassed their fortunes within the last decade - from their gaudy mansions to label-whoring of recognizable luxury brands. In one memorable scene, a character from the former class derisively claims that she hasn't set foot in a Louis Vuitton store in decades, hinting that it's become much too plebeian for her refined tastes - a phenomenon that can also be observed in real life. We talked about this in my seminar on signaling theory; how ownership of a Gucci bag, for example, demonstrates the possession of economic capital to everyone, while something more subtle, like a PS1 by Proenza Schouler, embodies a certain level of cultural capital (i.e. the knowledge necessary to step away from the mainstream).

Racial and ethnic tensions figure into the background as well, between the westerners who don't take the titular Asians seriously and between the Asians themselves. (In the book there's a complicated hierarchy comprised of mainland Chinese, Taiwanese, and those whose families immigrated to Hong Kong or Singapore long ago). But for all intents and purposes, money is the key divisive figure in the story. So after finishing the novel, I half expected to arrive in Singapore and find streets paved in gold; they weren't, but nonetheless I could tell I was in a place unlike anywhere I'd ever been before. Everything was so clean! So orderly!

The day after I arrived I went to meet a former LCB classmate at ION Orchard, a vast shopping center where her hair stylist had set up shop. As I rode the escalators up from the basement level, where the mall connected with the metro, I saw boutiques for pretty much every and any designer label imaginable. Valentino? Check. Harry Winston jewels? Check. They even had a Leica store (maker of my absolute dream camera; in case any generous readers forgot I have a birthday coming up soon). My friend was still in the middle of her appointment, so the receptionist sat me down in a leather armchair with a bottle of water and the latest issues of Elle Singapore. After sort of roughing it for the past couple months, I thought to myself, "I could really get used to this."

Once she was perfectly coiffed and ready, we set out for a day about town, mostly checking out her favorite street food haunts as well as the gorgeous Gardens by the Bay. As we cruised along the tree-lined avenues she explained the various neighborhoods and parts of everyday life that aren't always obvious to foreigners. For example, private residential high-rises that have special lifts for cars so that the inhabitants can sleep tight knowing that their Ferraris and Aston Martins are safe in their living rooms.

Around mid-afternoon she invited me to accompany her to her weekly bible study group that evening. I automatically said yes for several reasons. Firstly, you can do every activity listed on TripAdvisor, but you'll never fully get the measure of a place until you visit a local's home. Secondly, bible study plays a small role in Crazy Rich Asians and I was curious to see how it might be similar/different in real life. And then, of course, was the simple fact that I had never before attended a bible study session.

At 8pm we went to her friend's lovely flat (not one with a car elevator, but still obviously quite nice). The actual bible study reminded me a lot of discussion sections in college; the leader asking probing questions that the rest of the group either doesn't understand, doesn't know the answer to, or is too afraid of saying something that might seem stupid. But after analyzing the passage and breaking up into smaller groups, when they shifted the focus onto more personal issues, I saw just how strong the bonds of the social network are.

It would be disingenuous to compare actual Singaporeans to the book characters because, after all, most of the latter are caricatures for comedic effect, but there are some similarities. Like how most of the guests at bible study completed their higher education in the UK. (I was told by someone there that in certain social circles this is standard; in the book Kwan makes a point of suggesting that American universities are reserved for those who can't get into Oxford or Cambridge). To put this in a different context, I guess it would be something like if a foreigner watched Mean Girls or the new 21 Jump Street, spent a day in an American high school, and subsequently thought to herself, "Holy cow! There's actually a lot of truth in these jokes."

For the record, though, I quite like it here - it's green and beautiful, the people are kind, the food is amazing, and it's much less of a cultural vacuum than I was led to believe. And if you're still not sold on Crazy Rich Asians, it was recently optioned for film adaptation. So you'd better read it, stat, because the book is always better than the movie.

Adventures in the Sun

Weekend markets are a big deal in Thailand, so despite the fact that I had already sent a box of excess clothing home from Chiang Mai; that my suitcase was hopelessly too overweight to take as a carry-on; that my overnight train had been delayed by four hours and I was exhausted - I still had it in me to venture out to Chatuchak Market. Colloquially known as jj market (according to Wikipedia the largest market in the nation), it's a sprawling maze of thousands of stalls vaguely organized into blocks by the type of items sold, interspersed with every type of street food imaginable. Since I arrived two hours before closing I decided to limit myself to the clothing area, yet still didn't make it all the way around the block.

Unlike other markets I've been to where all the vendors seem to be stocked by the same small group of wholesalers, there were many independent and vintage retailers with lots of quirky, unique items. Let me put it this way: even I, arguably a champion shopper, was overwhelmed. Prices are posted but there's still some room for bargaining. I left with some great finds, and managed to still be able to close my suitcase when it came time to leave. Win - win.

The other big draw on the weekends is the floating markets, where vendors hawk their wares from traditional narrow boats. Tour companies have capitalized upon the fact that the biggest ones are far from the city center with overpriced excursions, but you can also find some local ones if you know where to look. So, the following day, I went to Taling Chan with a girl I met at the hostel who is also from Seattle (seriously, I've encountered more Americans in the last three days than I have in the last two months). 

Taling Chan is more of a riverside market, as the only floating bits are the eateries where all the cooking is done on said boats, but it was still very quaint and authentic. The timing worked out for us to take a boat ride around the network of canals to an orchid farm and another market, and while we couldn't understand a word from the guide above the sound of the boat's engine, it was quite an atmospheric journey. We kept marveling at how it didn't feel at all like the bustling Bangkok surrounding our hostel as we passed gorgeous modern houses, overgrown disheveled shacks, iguanas climbing out of the water and even a large decapitated boa constrictor floating near an intersection. 

Of course, a visit to Bangkok wouldn't be complete without seeing the exquisite Grand Palace. I found it difficult to capture all the elaborate details of the buildings while trying to avoid getting hordes of tourists in the frame of my camera, but I think I managed to get at least a few good shots. The sheer opulence - all the gold, jewels and paintings - are simply amazing. There's quite a lot to see within the complex, but eventually the heat got to us so after trudging around and admiring the most important structures we left and had lunch by the nearby pier. 

That afternoon I couldn't bring myself to brave the heat again, so instead of temple-hopping I opted for a different cultural experience: movie-watching. Movie theaters in Thailand are notoriously luxurious (think plush, reclining seats that you get to pick when you buy your ticket; I've paid way more in the states to see films in much crappier conditions), not to mention that before each screening they play the national anthem and everyone rises to salute the king. (But really after not seeing a movie in over two months when my usual rate of consumption is at least one a week the withdrawal symptoms were getting to be too much).

I may not have seen everything on the visitor's bucket list, but between the daytime and nighttime activities I think I hit a good balance. So, Bangkok, it's goodbye for now, but I can't wait to come back when the weather is more tolerable.  

Some photos below, see the rest on Flickr. 

Bangkok After Hours

If Last Life in the Universe was my cinematic reference for Chiang Mai, then Bangkok's has to be Only God Forgives. Without delving too far into critic mode, this second collaboration between Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling really doesn't live up to the precedent set by Drive, but aside from a memorable performance from Kristin Scott Thomas, the film presents an eery portrait of the city's nightlife and its main attractions - boxing and sex. 

I've been fortunate enough that physical violence is something I've only ever experienced through the media and entertainment (same for war and, to a certain degree, politics), so seeing an actual fight up close (literally - we had ringside seats) was nothing short of surreal. From watching and studying films, I knew that sound plays a pivotal role in making fight sequences seem real; I was conditioned to expect to hear it each time the fighters made contact, so I was surprised when I didn't. But even though I couldn't hear the impact of each blow, I could sense it in other ways - from the crowd's reaction and the drops of sweat (and occasionally blood) flying through the air. Curiously, the match had a soundtrack of its own: a small band playing traditional instruments. The fighters moved, shifting their weight from side to side in time with the drum beat like a sort of dance.

I had read online that foreigners will occasionally enter the ring, and the night we went was no exception. The most memorable match was between a Polish guy who was at least a good head taller than his Thai opponent. I was hoping that the Thai boxer would wipe the floor with the European but, alas, the white man's reach was longer and he kept going for the head. The Thai guy got him in the crotch pretty early on, and afterwards the Polish boxer became noticeably more vicious. By the final round the Thai boxer seemed to be using all his energy just to remain on his feet; his arms drooped, no longer protecting his head, and he moved sluggishly.

Originally, the other event I was interested in was the famous ping pong shows. No, not people playing table tennis, but rather women shooting a diverse assortment of objects out of their vaginas (including ping pong balls, razor blades and live animals) on a stage. Admit it, the description alone piques curiosity.

But the more I heard about it from others who had gone, the less fascinating it seemed. Apparently the women who perform in the shows are all older - retired prostitutes, I presume - and just, in one traveler's words, "Clearly not wanting to be there." After the initial novelty wore off, the show was just depressing.

So, instead of seeing a ping pong show or ladyboy cabaret, we joined the throng of tourists and locals at Khao San Road, drinking and dancing the night away. For some people nights like those are the reason to go to Thailand, but personally I much preferred Bangkok by day.