Stunning limestone islands and islets rising up like green towers from the deep emerald waters… An Avatar like natural wonder of 1500 sq km in the Gulf of Tonkin, “Halong” means “descending dragon” in Vietnamese. The kind of place I would cross the world to see. And so I did, but…
171 km from Hanoi only. Done. The plan was perfect: a day tour by boat. But I wanted more: the view from Bai Tho Mountain (Poem Mountain). Thanks to that view I heard about Halong Bay in the first place, on Instagram, where else?! So my improved plan was to pay for the tour from Hanoi, but arrive in Halong Bay earlier, by a local transport, so I can do the hike and join the tour after.
I still have in my phone the photo I took at 5am, on the empty and wet streets of Hanoi. The meeting point was close to St. Joseph’s Cathedral. I waited and waited and nothing for more than 40min. I was already thinking about going back to bed but I just stayed longer to contemplate about not seeing Halong Bay that day. I couldn’t believe my eyes when a van stopped on the dark alley. So I was finally off to Halong Bay, where I arrived around 8:30.
It was a cloudy day. I still had time, since I planned an hour for the hike to the viewpoint on top of Bai Tho Mountain and about 30 min to get back to the port for the tour. A lady was selling flowers on an improvised stall on her bike. I had a delicious bun cha at a small local restaurant on the back alley where the entrance to the starting point of the hike was. I had all the necessary information: about how the access was forbidden since it was considered unsafe, about the iron gate that was built to prevent the entrance and how that looked, about the lady living there that could help in exchange of a fee, I even knew the most recent price. So let’s say I did my homework well. But the Vietnamese rain started.
I ordered a tea and waited a bit more, hoping for better weather. Usually rain was in short episodes. This time it looked bad…
I got my so wished break and went to look for the entrance door towards my so wanted viewpoint. A local helped me find it. I entered, went up some dark stairs and knocked on a door. A dog was barking. A lady opened the door looking as if she was just out of bed. She saw me and knew why I was there. She asked twice the money I knew others before me had paid. I said no. We had the deal.
From all the information I gathered online, I missed the details of the access spot. When she showed me a huge rock that I needed to climb to get to a whole under the iron fence where the iron bars had been bended…
Ohh no, I can’t do this…
Noo, easy, easy, come.
With her pushing my but up and me grabbing and climbing the wet sharp edges of that cliff, getting to the fence and sneaking through the small whole. I was up, muddy but up.
The hike started. I prayed for the mist to disappear and allow me to, at least, get a glimpse of that gorgeous view towards the bay that I was so long dreaming about.
Suddenly I heard something. I wasn’t alone anymore! Someone was approaching…. Huh, I was relived to see a small dog running to catch me. I was happy to see him since I was starting to feel a bit weird there by myself, hiking in a place I didn’t know. Unfortunately someone else had joined us soon: the rain, again! I continued on the trail, still hoping for a weather miracle. But was actually getting worse, it even started pouring and I was getting drenched. Luckily, I found a shelter under a deserted construction.
My best friend in Ha Long Bay
Minutes later the rain stopped again but all around became even more misty like I was in a cloud. I got close to the top but only to realize that all this was in vain. The view was completely covered in a white thick mist. I was all wet and disappointed in spite of all efforts. It was getting late, so I really couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to start my way back.
As I and my dog buddy were approaching the roofs, signaling the end of the trail was close, I saw in a yard three pit bulls sleeping. Between me and them was no fence, just a few meters distance. I swallowed my fear and hurried back to the green fence entrance. Once there I realized going up was piece of cake compared to going down. The dog started crying, looking at me, adding more panic. It was late, three pit bulls were free somewhere behind me, it was raining again so fear was no option. I dragged myself down the muddy cliff, back into the lady’s yard. I wished I could kiss in the end that amazing dog, my only huge support there.
The gate to the no viewpoint on Poem Mountain, Halong Bay
I ran back to the main street, in the rain. I was so muddy and embarrassed to be so dirty. I found a store and bought a pair of pants. For the tshirt I could only hope it was going to get dry, at some point, that day.
If before, while I drank the tea looking at that street, it was filled with taxis, now there was none. I was in the rain, waiting, hoping to get one.
Finally a taxi stopped and a very cheerful guy said hello. Every minute was like an hour, it was getting very late for my tour. We arrived in the port. I was relieved for a second only to panic again when I realized he had no idea where to go and kept stopping to ask for directions. I wanted to kill him as if all that was his fault. Even if it wasn’t.
My phone rang in my hand. The guy from the tour announced me that the boat had to leave, they can’t wait for me any longer. Great!
So I finally arrived in the port, where the boats for the bay were starting the tours, 10 minutes after my boat has left. At the end of all that had happened by then, a wide smile from the taxi driver was all I didn’t want to see. I was rude to him, handed the money and left closing the door. This was a moment I still regret very much, after I digested all that has happened that day out of my bad planning only.
I went inside the waiting room. I felt cold, the God damn rain was continuing outside, my t-shirt was wet and my mood was on the brink of starting crying out loud. I just stayed there thinking how bad it all turned out. I didn’t want to see any Halong Bay and I hated that rain, blaming it for ruining my day.
I made peace with all that happened and went outside. The sky was clearing up and I was able to see the green cliffs rising up the calm waters. How I wanted to see this place and how I screwed it up!
I rushed back to the ticket offices area to ask for a boat, maybe there was still something, maybe a shorter tour. The one I had paid for was going to an island on top of which there was a great view to the bay. But since I was running for two rabbits, I ended up catch no view.
I found something, a short tour and I bought a ticket. Soon the boat left the port but my mood was terrible. I was so upset that I didn’t event want to leave the boat to visit a cave, a first stop. The guys in the crew looked at me as if I was nuts. I stayed on the boat, watching the horizon, all that way through Halong Bay that I didn’t saw that day.
Sailing in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam
We sailed deeper into the bay, passing by Hon Ga Choi Island – Fighting Cocks Island and a few more islands covered in green vegetation. What a beautiful place this Halong Bay can be! In the end, surrounded by all that pure beauty, I refund peace. I was glad I took a glimpse of it, at least, instead of nothing, after that long serie of mistakes I did that day.
Late in the afternoon, back in the port, I finally joined the tour I was supposed to be in and went back together to Hanoi.
That day of May 2019 in Vietnam was a good lesson.
Looking back, after many more other lessons that followed that moment and, for sure, before many other lessons that are waiting, I am smiling. I was taught with time that not all wishes are meant to happen as we plan. Some not at all, some in a different way. We can’t control the day, nor the weather or the luck, good or bad. We never know what will happen once we go out of the door in our home. So how can we know what will happen when we find ourselves on the other side of the world.
PS: During the trip to Vietnam I met many others that went, like me, to see Ha Long Bay. Some for one day, some for more days. I had one question for all: how was the weather. I always got one answer: bad.
Hanoi was that day the most polluted city in the world. My throat was burning, it was like I was constantly walking behind an old truck.
– It’s because of the weather, city traffic and… he hesitated a bit, China.
I was staring at his phone showing on red AQI 170. Better than Hanoi were Katmandu, Beijing, Chiang Mai, Mumbai, Dhaka…the champions of poisoned air.
I was doing a free city tour conducted by a Vietnamese student who was using this job to practice English. His wish was to study in Japan next year. But until then, he was showing me his home city, Hanoi.
The city looked alive. In a profound contrast to how I found it the night before. After midnight Hanoi is emptying it streets and closing all restaurants and shops behind roll up storefront grilles.
The night before
When the taxi stopped on that street in Old Quarter I was so afraid the host from the guesthouse won’t open the door and I will sleep in the street.
In desperation I started knocking the grills. All quiet around…no sign of anyone awake. I insisted and thank God a voice finally answer from inside. The grilles have been rolled up and I steped in. Before I acomodate my eyes with the light inside I saw three large dogs coming toward me barking. Damn, I made a step back…. But my host was there and started talking to them and even convinced me I won’t be bitten. I wasn’t that sure, these three were huge and angry. How the hell I will live here with the beasts for the next days, I thought…
I excuse myself repeatedly for the late hour and once in my room I felt like home, all was spotless clean and cozy.
The next morning, the dogs, two huge white Akita and a white stray female didn’t even look at me as I passed by then. My heart was not so calm though. But in the following days we got from this to me stepping over them as they were sleeping all over the floor all the time. All the attention I got was a slightly open eye… they were adorable. I remember one day I was sitting on the couch, talking with the father of the family. All three of them came to me to sniff around. I was not afraid anymore and I wanted to pet them and play with them but a no, please from the father was the sign they wanted to keep these dogs as guarding dogs not cuddling dogs.
In the first morning, when I went out from the guesthouse it felt like I was in another city, not the one I arrived the night before. Restaurants with tile floor and plastic tables with little stools around, all the same maybe just different colours from a a restaurant to another. I stood still and just looked around me: Hanoi was alive! People cooking, people cleaning, people opening their stores, rushing on foot or riding bikes with large baskets with vegetables, fruits or flowers while wearing their iconic conical hats. It was the Vietnam I imagined.
Soon I met my guide for the free walking tour.
We started… in French style, with Hanoi Opera House. This reminder of the French colonial times, modelled after the Palais Garnier in France, gave me a feeling of teleportation in Europe. But the motorbikes rushing around brought back the local Vietnamese feel.
Ngọc Sơn Temple, accessed by the crimson Thê Húc Bridge, sits on Hoan Kiem Lake – Lake of the Returned Sword. The name comes from a 15th century legend about a turtle god. And south from the temple sits Turtle Tower, dedicated to this mystic divinity. In that cloudy day, staring at the murky waters of the lake, the crimson bridge surrounded by mist, still having in mind the two huge stuffed turtles that once resided in the lake, now kept in glass cabinets nearby… I was in a state where I could fully believe any legend.
Trần Quốc Pagoda is Hanoi’s oldest pagoda, rises high on an islet in West Lake. It is believed it was built 1,400 years ago, so this means it is older than Hanoi! So how came? It was transported here in the 17th century to protect it from the flood damage. With the amount of rain I saw those days in Vietnam…no wonder! This is also why all the temples have steps and a high wooden doorstep, to keep water outside.
We remained in the past for the next stop: an Ancient House, on Ma May Street. Stepping back in time, in late-19th-century Hanoi and see how a wealthy family lived back then was incredible. I felt instantly absorbed by the past, forgetting the present once I stepped inside. Every piece of furniture, every decoration object, every cup of tee, all beautifully crafted, sent you in the past. I walked the two floors of the house, the central courtyard, the small mezzanine. The small courtyard in the middle of the house was my dream place of the house, decorated with bonsais, a drinking table, with the open sky serving as a roof, to watch the clouds and the stars. Just imagine seeing 19th century Hanoi! Even a glimpse of it is a gift.
Next I served a big dose of local street art on Phung Hung Mural street. Each of the murals on this 200m long wall are showcasing a fracture of the city’s long standing history, folklore and locals activities. And not to mention, the instagrammable value of the place…
Speaking of value, Temple of Literature is where students come nowadays to pray for good luck at their exams. Founded in 1070 by emperor Ly Thanh Tong to worship Confucius, after it became the first university of Vietnam. Until the colonial times, for over 700 years, hundreds of students studied here. Inside the large structure lies the temple itself with, of course, a high wooden doorstep and a beautiful shrine inside with plates with huge Buddha’s hand fruits. I never saw this lemon with fingers fruit before, that is believed to bring good fortune in Asian beliefs and is used as an offering.
A calligraphy master writing calligraphy in the digital age is something like a balm for the soul and a bliss for the eye. In a hidden corner, facing a yard full of bonsai trees, with no one around but silence, it was this gentleman surrounded by beautifully black painted letters.
My last image of the Temple of Literature that day was a group of graduates having their photo taken in this full of significance place, a true temple of education.
Back to the street, I mean… Train Street, cause Hanoi has that too! Placed in the Old Quarter, this is the gathering point for social media fans/freaks and the rest of the tourists/travellers that arrive in Hanoi. Leaving all aside, it’s a cool place just because not every day you get to see a train crossing on a very narrow street among colourful houses and where you can sit at one of the coffee shops there and watch the train passing by so crazy madly close to your cup! It’s a nice experience to live, like Mae Klong Railway Market close to Bangkok. I took a photo with my pink umbrella while dinner was being cooked. I was jealous, I would fancy such a dinner, on a railway.
Vietnamese food is so praised all arund the world. We had a stop at a place famous among locals for…of course, pho. This dish is everywhere, as a true national food deserves. A salty broth with rice noodles, chicken or beef, served together with a plate of fresh herbs that you add in this hot soup to enjoy all those fresh flavours at once. It’s delicious, full, healthy and cheap. For someone that grew up with soups almost every single day, like me, pho feels like home, though different.
During all my staying in Hanoi, I had this feeling that I didn’t know how to really enjoy the best of their food. This was a moment when I missed friends, so we can share a table, order different foods and taste that and that and that. Almost every time I felt like what I saw in other people’s plates around me was a better choice than mine. But still, I did have great food.
I said goodbye and thank you to my student guide with a tip.
The last landmark to see was St Joseph’s Cathedral, the Notre Damme of Hanoi. Built in 1886, this neo-gothic building is in an absolute contrast to its surroundings, resulting an an Asian – Europe mix. A dance performance in the front, with young girls wearing long white scarfs and slow moves was a beautiful end of the day.
I walked the streets in Old Quarter that late evening. People cooking, people eating, people drinking, people selling. At the end of the day in front of every restaurant the dishes were washed on the pavement. I took a photo that I knew would shock my mom. The next day I will eat again from those plates, so what?!
I stopped at a store with the most crazy colourful prints. A guy was trying a shirt and shorts with banana print. He looked hilarious. I bought a pair of shorts with watermelons, also hilarious.
I had one last stop close to the guesthouse, where a lady was selling every evening barbecue and peeled sweet crunchy full of flavour baby pineapples. In Hanoi people either sell something or eat something. Her father insisted that we have a cup of tea together. They had seen me before so now we were neighbours. This sums up in a gesture how people in Vietnam are. I told them my plans for the next days: Halong Bay and Sapa.
Back in my room a had a guest. Opening the door something black and big flew on the floor. My phobia was activated. The biggest cockroach I ever saw, plus, the beast was not just super speedy but also flying. I asked for help.
– Well, it’s a tropical country…bumbled my guest trying to catch the beast behind the bed.
My fear of bugs comes with me in any country, tropical or not, unfortunately. I so wish I didn’t had this damn ridiculous fear!
I fell asleep in my room, in the guesthouse in the Old Quarter in Hanoi, grateful for something awesome: I was in Vietnam.
You know that feeling when the alarm breaks your sleep, you open your eyes in the dark and you have no idea where you are. It was like that!
Than I remember: sunrise at Angkor Wat! Wohoo!
I got so excited I even put on a long colorful dress and a silk light shirt over, knotted around my waist. It’s not like I go every day in a place like that….
My tuk-tuk driver from the day before was already waiting for me. He came from a village an hour away, with a nice clean shirt and a very awake smile for 5am.
Angkor Wat
That image… the towers of the temple mirrored in the still waters of the lake in front, all this on a red sunrise background. The rainy day before I feared the weather might not allow me, but there it was, my long dreamed sunrise at Angkor Wat. Perfect!
About 20-30 other early birds were also there, waiting. And the sparkle came. First like lines of light and then the sun rose behind the beautiful shapes of the temple. That’s what I call a bucket list wish! I felt grateful.
The tour started with a new guide I met at the entrance where my driver remained. Apparently for Angkor Wat it is like this: another entertainment, other money of course.
I followed him for the next two hours inside and outside the temple, by its huge walls outside, in the large chambers inside, listening to the fantastic history of the Khmer empire that ruled much of mainland Southeast Asia from about 802 to 1431 CE. I was in a trance between past and present and with every step more wowed realizing how massive this sandstone carved temple was. I took a photo on the stone steps inside a huge interior courtyard only to remember how small I looked there. Outside, on a wall of columns made black by the hundreds of years passing over, I took another photo in the sun and got a compliment from a lady for how my outfit was matching the place. We laughed.
We crossed on foot the large bridge outside and I let Angkor Wat behind. I completed my happiness with a green coconut once I found my tuk-tuk driver outside.
Bayon Temple
The ride continued, we crossed the majestic bridge with statues at Victory gate to enter Bayon temple. The rainy day the day before gave me a different perspective on the temples, surrounded my mist, this time the stone structures were rising high on a blue clear sky background.
Bayon temple is to me the most picturesque from outside. With the blocks of stone spread around at the front, the high palm tree, the 12th-century temple, with its 54 Gothic towers, decorated with over 200 serene faces of, according to some Avalokiteshvara and according to others of the King Jayavarman VII himself, with the multitude of bas-reliefs incorporating more than 11,000 figures…. it’s a work of art sculpted in stone.
In the interior courtyard I took a sit and watched. The structure all around, travelers from all over the world, Buddhist monks in orange ropes, guides, a group of Japanese where a father had tight a kid with an anti lost wristlet, girls doing photo shootings. And at times, no one, for a little precious time.
Ta Prohm temple
If some temples, in the heart of the jungle, are now taken over by nature, in Ta Prohm nature truly rules. Probably the most instagrammed, with its structures tightly embraced by massive roots of trees like the invading tentacles of a gigantic octopus. The place looks not just out of this world but out of any imagination. Walking through this fairytale anything seems possible. I just couldn’t have enough of it, so much I loved it. And as it was afternoon time, it was almost empty. I felt like in Tomb Rider, curious, exploring every corner, touching the stones, the roots, looking all the way up to the canopy. What a beautiful place!
I was so high on Angkor Wat. Leaving, the images of the day were still playing in my head.
Two elephants carrying tourists brought me back to reality. I was revolted. I wish Asian elephants could meet their African untamed brothers, have a chat and learn to never obey humans. And this would end after a few bad but necessarily events.
We drove back top Siem Reap, through dusty villages with incredibly red soil, where kids in white uniforms were rushing on the streets on their way home, Buddhist monks were taking a ride somewhere with a motorbike taxi and frits and juice were sold by the roads on improvised stalls, next to gasoline bottles in plastic bottles of 1 or 2L. My driver stopped to buy one so we will be surely back to Siem Reap.
One more stop, I bought a durian from a lonely stall on a long dusty road. I paid less than 5 dollars.
Siem Reap market
I needed a back to reality shot. And I took in in full dose in the local market. Probably my friends back home would have a seizure seeing all that row meat on the ground, covered with flies, the half peeled fertilized duck eggs with the undeveloped dead chick inside and above all, the smells. But I fount it vivid, authentic, colorful and with the best and cheapest fruits and genuine people.
This is real life, real people, real local food. I even found, at the back at the market, sugar cane juice freshly made. It was delicious, with all that lack of hygiene all around. And than, sipping on my sweet juice, I saw her. Young, sitting distracted on a mountain of sugar cane sticks, with the boy clinging to her in a demanding pose.
I left with 2kg of maracuja. Up till today, that is the best maracuja ever.
Siem Reap at night
The city was waking up once the sun was set and the heat was gone. At dark hours life begins in Siem Reap. The night market, the stalls selling everything, the yummy smoke from the hot pans, the people eating outside on small plastic tables, the tuk-tuks waiting for one last customer that day, the motorcycles rushing everywhere. I almost got hit by one that I saw in the last second. I still can’t explain how it didn’t hit me but it did stopped my heart for a blink. My guarding angel must have been paying attention that instant.
Last day in Siem Reap
This day we went outside the city, in the rural area, by the Tonle Sap Lake, where the houses, temples, the school were built on 10m high wooden pillars to keep them dry during wet season when waters were high. Floating villages have buildings on land but also straight on the lake, far from land.
30$ boat ride for an hour on the lake seemed a scam and I would have paid gladly even more to a local with a small boat and a family to feed. But not to the men in shirts behind the counter, where in 45min hanging around I heard 3 different prices. I really try to find a way to go by boat but those people had monopole there. I even got pissed off with my tuk-tuk driver for bringing me there and to their surprise, I left without a tour.
Instead I took a walk through the village but I felt awkward trying to take a glimpse into their life and in the same time not offend them with my presence. I was curious to see all that was there, what people were doing, how the houses were inside… There was poverty, but I was there for authenticity. Simple life is fascinating to me. Still, I was an uninvited tourist into their life. Sometimes it’s too much even being in a place.
A pond full of lotus flowers in bloom, with ducks moving around the green floating leaves and a row of straw huts was my last sight of Cambodia. Simple pure beauty, like all I’ve seen in this country.
I will remember Cambodia for the thrills of Angkor Wat temples, of course and the never to forget flavors of Khmer food. But there’s so much more that’s not on tours options. The day by day life on the vivid markets, on the hidden streets, in the floating villages. People cooking, fishing, cleaning every day, their most candid smiles, the cutest kids. After all, people are the real Cambodia.
Siem Reap: 900 years old temples, a very authentic local market and the best Khmer food.
Whenever the alarm rings at hours like 4am, my first thought is: I don’t want this! Why do I do it? I don’t even like that… And “that” can be anything. Nothing is wow enough to leave the bed so early. Not even a huge bucket list wish like sunrise at Angkor Wat… Then I remembered the tuk-tuk driver. I met the day before, when we planned that 2 days tour through Angkor Wat, he was coming to pick me up from a village 1.5h away. He’ll wait for me a long time only to end up going back home to his 5 small kids, sad and with no money for that day … Ok… up!
Day 1:
One day before
6am : I opened my eyes. It was day outside. The bus has stopped. My whole body was in pain after a night spent on the road. The large leather reclining armchairs in the bus from Bangkok to Siem Reap were great, but still far from a bed. Night buses are a popular and cheap option in SE Asia.
– Border crossing!
We left the bus and walked the few meters from Thailand to Cambodia. Outside the Immigration office where I got the visa, in a dusty crossroads, tens of tuk-tuks were waiting. We were immediately outnumbered by the tuk-tuks drivers offering rides and tours. I left with the first who came towards me. He wore a blue short sleeved shirt and a sincere smile. He grabbed my trolley before I said ok. I was too tired to protest and they all had the same price anyway. He proposed a three days tour to Angkor Wat and around Siem Reap and we had a deal.
11:30: I was in my room already. Huge place with a large bed and a big terrace with two white columns and a ratan round table and chairs, facing the dusty busy street in front. This was my home in Siem Reap for the next days.
Across the street, Khmer Cuisine Watbo restaurant. I heard the local food was so praised and I was curious to try it. And hungry as hell.
A lady was selling green coconut in front. I took one from a bucket of ice, cold and huge, and I sat at a table outside, in the shade. It was a hot noon. I ordered a soup served in a coconut. It was dense, full of flavors, similar to Tom-Yam but much thicker and full of fish and shrimp. I paid almost nothing. I was starting to really like the country.
Tour to Angkor Wat
14:00: I met my driver and his improvised tuk-tuk. These vehicles look better in Thailand, while in Cambodia anyone with a motorbike and two handy hands can built one. The result looks like a functional improvisation. And that’s exactly how mine looked, but it did the job!
We left behind the streets of Siem Reap and I was enjoying the ride, absorbing everything with curiosity. Cambodia seemed less developed than its neighbor Thailand, but somehow this made it even more fascinating in its authenticity.
After only 30 min ride we were in the middle of a pouring rain. It took a few attempts to convince my driver to stop and a few more to get him inside the tuk-tuk with me before getting all wet. Sometimes the respect this people have for guests is too much!
We were covered by a curtain of water that turned the red soil of the road into orange rivers and orange water ponds. Buddhist monks at the back on motor bikes, under black umbrellas, people in tuk-tuks. Life has stopped like a moment frozen in time by the heavy shower dropping down from the sky.
– What season is now? I asked, already knowing the answer.
– Dry season.
We both started laughing.
Dry season in Siem Reap, Cambodia
My first photo in Cambodia is with me sitting on a wooden gate, on the side of the red soil road, with my feet ankle deep in the orange water of a long water pond as the last drops of rain were still falling. The sky cleared up and life restarted and so did our tour.
I wanna mention something first: when someone says they saw Angkor Wat, well, that’ll be pretty much farfetched in most cases. The complex of temples reunited under one name, the name of the main temple, Angkor Wat, spreads on 162 hectares and is the largest religious structure in the world, included in Guiness Book for that. Add to this image 72 major temples and over 1000 buildings. So what I can say is that in 2 days I saw just a part of this massive and mind-blowing site.
First temple: Preah Khan
The entrance was epic: a wide bridge of stone, with the sides showing the remains of what used to be, hundreds of years ago, two parallel rows of stone statues, now all beheaded by the harsh history. Three towers at the other end, we passed through the middle one. My head was spinning around. Surrounded by lush jungle, it looked like a passage to another time and so it was. The heavy rain before and the steam still raising up from the ground made all look so mysterious and I was thinking: Am I really here?
West gate and Naga bridge at Prasat Preah Khan temple, Angkor Wat
We stopped and continued on foot. A few small kids were playing in a water pond. The air was fresh and very humid, it smelled like wet soil and plants. In the front I saw it rising, the silhouette of the temple rising from the mist, surrounded by high trees with their tops still hidden in white clouds. I stood still, I was mind blown… I looked around as if I tried to see more, all those details. Another visitor was standing in front of the steps, as if he was under a spell. Just the three of us and the temple.
Cambodia, Preah Khan temple, Angkor Wat
I realize now, writing this and looking at the photos, that describing Ankgor Wat is a mission impossible. All those carvings, the ornaments in stone, the columns, the imposing structures now taken over by nature with massive trees growing through stone, conquering what man once built in this land of jungle. What a thrill to see it! I was like the man before, under a spell.
Majestic tree at Preah Khan temple, Angkor Wat
My now friend guide brought be back to reality with a green coconut and something I never had before or since then: Asian Palmyra palm tree fruit – a few pieces of white gelatin sold in a small plastic bag.Very good and juicy. He went to buy it so I can have the price for locals.
After a tuk-tuk ride through a jungle road, we walked again, crossing the long wooden path over Jayatataka Baray pond, now dry, to Neak Pean temple.
We reached a large square pond, bordered by steps and surrounded by four smaller ponds. In the middle, a small circular island with a stepped base. Elephants sculptures were placed on the four corners in its glorious times, one was still standing.
As we crossed the bridge back, a local man was hand catching fish in the small water pond, the last trace of the now dried pond. “Diner”, my guide smiled. The sky was getting pink shades. It was coming: the sunset.
Pre Ruptemple
From the base, those steep long steps of stone looked intimidating. Two lions carved in stone were facing the horizon at the top.
Built to honor God Shiva, the temple consists of a three-tiered pyramid-shaped structure.
From the top, views to Phnom Bok in the east and the towers of Angkor Wat in the far west. No sunset that evening, for me and the rest of visitors ending a wonderful day there.
Later that evening, when I went to sleep and I closed my eyes, the memories of the day developed fast like in a resume. What a rich day it was! And what a wealthy day was coming…
Day 1: I opened the small iron gate and entered the interior yard. I left behind the uproar of the street and I took a glimpse through the small window of the Thai restaurant’s kitchen. I climbed the stairs with the last drops of energy. That damn heat gave me a checkmate. I arrived at my door and suddenly I woke up from the drowsiness: the light inside was on. It’s not possible to be so stupid and let it open all day, I thought. I’m always careful to close the AC while away but I let the lights on… I switch the key and push the door. I startled: a woman was inside my room, laid on the bed! I went straight to her:
– Who are you? What are you doing in my room?
Morning in Phuket
After a 12h flight, that morning I landed in Phuket. Since I don’t do holidays like normal people and instead I turn all trips into marathons, I took a next flight to Bangkok. I saved the beach for later. Later meaning 2 other countries later… While waiting for the 3rd flight in 24h all I had to do was… people watching. Lots of very petite women of all ages and all pretty, many foreigners men with way too young girls, a few transgender men, backpackers and lots of cute kids.
Afternoon in Bangkok
I was greeted by the capital with the most unbearable heat and humidity, around 33C and over 80% humidity. A taxi drove me to my cheap guesthouse close to Khaosan Road, e few minutes from Ratchadamnoen Road, the wide boulevard heading to the Grand Palace. About 7 euros per night for a room with 6 beds inside and, thank God, a life saving AC.
I let my stuff in the room and went out for a discovery walk. The moment I stepped outside, I was all drenched in my own sweat. My clothes, my skin, my hair. Wet. But I was going to get used to this sensation fast and the busy street made me immediately part of the city. Plenty of small restaurants around where food was being cooked in boiling water, hot oil, huge pans and apparently no bother for hygiene. Asia was still new to me back then. End of April 2019. It was my second time in SE Asia and my second time outside Europe. I knew nothing. Thai food was new to me as well. My perceptions were about to change drastically that very evening. Shrines of all kind, small, larger, or huge golden Buddha statues for sale by the road, Buddhist monks walking barefoot in their orange ropes. My head was spinning to see all the show around. I crossed the large street and headed to Khaosan Road right when the sun was saying good bye on the pinkest sky. The lights, the tuk-tuks, the horns, the steams from the hot pans, the flavors and the people from all over the world, all in a blue hour rush. It was so entertaining to watch. A lady was selling fried tarantulas, scorpions on a stick and crispy silkworms. I paid and she let me took some pics. That’s how it works. A few meters further a crocodile was on a grill, parts of one leg already served. I walked up and down the street as it was getting darker and busier. The pink turned blue and after dark on the sky. I was a mix of jetlag, excitement and hunger. Everybody was sipping, chewing, licking fingers around. After all, food is what made Khaosan Road that famous. But what to choose when I didn’t now what was cooking. Hunger helped me pick one free spot following the golden rule of the crowd in front. A metal table and a vacant red small plastic chair.
– Hello, love, what shall I bring for you? I liked that he was more dressed up than me, red nails and red lipstick. And a fair smile. I liked him instantly.
– Tom Yum soup please.
Cause that was all I knew about Thai food back then. I heard many times about that dish but had never tried it, soo… A few minutes later, after a wink and a “There you are, sweetheart, enjoy!” the soup was on the table, burning hot and I was going to experience a revolution. Of taste. First taste was like coconut met lime and vanilla meet caramel, sweet and sour in the same time, very spicy and just enough salty. Oh my God! That first sip ended in a long Hmmm….Up till today that was the best Tom Yum I ever had. I got courageous and ordered more food, some rice and meat dish after. Also delicious. I instantly stopped seeing the lack of hygiene all around and instead I saw some of the best foods all around. Those flavors and scents from ingredients being thrown in the hot pans, flames rising up and people enjoying this pure basic pleasure of eating. Amazing combinations of ingredients resulting in great never tried before taste. After I walked up and down that street and tried Thai deserts, exotic fruits, smoothies.
Midnight: Resurrection service at the Russian Orthodox church
I had this idea: to attend the Resurrection service as the next day, back home, was celebrated Easter. I searched for an Orthodox church. I found one. At the outskirts of Bangkok. I found a taxi after no tuk-tuk agreed to go that far. I negotiated the price. And off we were. I had no clear idea where I was going. The trip proved to be a nightmare. We got stuck in the traffic, as we left the downtown many streets were under construction. After more than an hour I finally saw on the map the destination getting closer. When we entered up on a dark street with villas where I could only hear dogs barking outside, I concluded we’re lost. The driver thought I was crazy to bring him into nowhere. I was blaming Google… Then I saw a light and a door was opening. It was the church. Thank God! I asked him to walk with me a few meters, there were stray dogs barking outside. I opened a huge wooden door to enter a room invaded of candles light. It was a Russian church and the resurrection service had already started. All women had their heads covered. In my country this is not the norm so I stepped forward feeling many curious eyes. I understood nothing since it was in Russian but I felt in peace. It was beautiful. I realized I forgot my candle in the room… A man saw me searching my pockets in despair and he indicated a corner. I bought a red candle there. I got the light from a person next to me. And like this Jesus Christ was resurrected. In Bangkok, at the end of a long trip, after a long day, in a fully spiritual night. I paid to the taxi driver way more than we first agreed, it was fair this way. I got back to my room and I slept for the very first time with the AC on. It was that hot.
Day 2:
6am Bangkok seen from a tuk-tuk felt fresh and promising. Was a good day to make great memories. I saw my face in the mirror, sitting in the back and smiling. The city was already up. People rushing in tens of tuk-tuks and motorbikes. The heat was still bearable now and the air less polluted. I felt the breeze on my face. I love these simple moments, away from everything, when I feel like all I have is all I need. The bus station where the trip ended was busy: tourists, taxi drivers, tuk-tuks. Damnoen Saduak Floating Market and Mae Klong Railway Market were on my traveling menu that morning. The price I knew from the internet travel blogs made the few taxi drivers laugh out loud. I also laughed at their price. But since I wasn’t there for laughing, I got worry that my plan was failing. If I don’t find an option, what will I do next?! I took a few steps away, thinking, when one man came towards me and whispered:
– How much you want to pay?
– Tell me a price that is ok for you too ….
We had a deal on the price and itinerary and a few minutes later we left the city behind. I was proud of myself for not taking an organized tour and solving this. He wasn’t talkative like me, so I let him drive and I was happy to look outside. The 1st stop was Damnoen Saduak Floating Market. I was dreaming to see this place after all the images I saw on Instagram.
– 4000 baht (about 100 euro) for one person, the boat takes you to…
– Sorry, what… how much?
– 4000 and…
– Noo, noo, thanks. I stood up to leave. I was getting mad only hearing this price!
– This is the only way to get to the floating market, lady…ok, 3000 baht, let’s go….
– Ok, I will not go to any market.
– You came here and you won’t go?
– Exactly!
I asked my taxi driver and he confirmed, that was the only way to the market. By boat! What the hell… I thought I read about people getting there by bus but wasn’t sure anymore, I read so much stuff about Bangkok before coming. Everybody I asked after said the same, that was the only way. I wanted to leave and I was upset, I didn’t want to pay, but the market was so close and I traveled so far and it’s a must see and… All those thoughts. A lady approached me and said: 2000 baht, I take you there but don’t tell them.
– I won’t pay 2000… I ended up paying what was equal to around 30 euro. But I was still upset and I was soon going to be crazy mad. I got in the boat with two other people. A water channel, a few dwellings by the water, tropical vegetation, bla, bla, pretty but nothing special. Then a few open stores by the water, one selling paintings. Than a few boats started to appear, mostly women selling veggies, fruits, ice-cream, deserts. The heart of the market had a few concrete steps on a side where people were enjoying different foods they had bought from the stalls around or from the boats. A few log boats were floating around. I took many photos. It was getting more interesting.
Damnoen Saduak Floating Market
And then I raised my head and I saw in front a large concrete bridge over the water and cars passing! So it was possible to get to the famous floating market by car, free and I was scammed badly, taken for a fool. I got so angry and I couldn’t wait to get back to those liars. I guy was holding a small primate, some monkey, for photos when we got back to the jetty and handed the poor captive creature to me.
– No more money, set it free and you go to work… The taxi driver was waiting for me smiling and I was boiling. I started on the way to the car:
– My friend, I know I am a tourist. You see me as a bag of money. But I come from a country where what you did today happens all the time. So I know a scam when I see a scam. I know what you did. I saw the bridge. I now know I could have got to the market by car not boat only, as you all sait. You let me pay for a stupid tour. Ok, that’s it but no more scams for today, please. Ok? Or I won’t need you anymore to get back to Bangkog. I was so mad I could have walked to Bangkok for days if I had to. My friend understood the message very well. Next he propose to take me as a bonus to Taling Chan market, another floating market but less touristy, placed by the shores of Mekong. Not far and more quiet. I had lunch there, sitting on concrete steps, food cooked in front of me, on a boat and served on banana leaves. I was fascinated how the lady managed the grill and fire on the boat and was cooking fresh seafood like in the best kitchen in the world. Fried calamari and a sour & spicy sauce and sugar cane juice to drink. I still remember the feel of tranquility and the still waters of Mekong. On the way to the car we passed by a beautiful old lady selling sticky rice cooked in bamboo sticks. I got the forbidden one, black. Hot and delicious! A minutes drive after we we arrived in Mae Klong Railway Market, the famous market crossed by a train. We just got there and I saw a crowd of people on both sides, with phones in their hands. In the front I saw how the sellers were wrapping the roofs on the sides, one by one, finally revealing in the front, at a few tens of meters, the train. I heard “photo, photo, quick!” My now friend taxy driver brought me back to reality. The train was slowly approaching. I jumped on the lines, laughing and looking back to the train. He got a perfect shot, in a move with my pony tail in the air. I jumped on one side back and the train was at 30m away now. When it got closer I felt a hand pushing me closer to the wall. A Spanish girl was so terrified by how close the train was that she felt the need to protect me. We looked one another and started laughing, no words were needed, we shared a a great moment. The train passed slowly, 20 cm from our bodies as we were all glued to the wall.
Mae Klong Railway Market
Slowly, the orange and red carriages left the market. Just seconds after the sellers got it all back, the market was again covered, protected from the burning sun. I walked the train line among stalls of fruits, seafood, spices, cooked foods, fresh meats, dried fish. The scent was too strong, the air and light scarce, the heat and humidity horrible. I got dizzy and I was going to throw up. Badly. I’m not sensitive at all but I guess it was too much at that moment. My taxi driver saw me and directed me towards the exit, in a place where more fresh air and light was entering the covered tunnel. I got a cold green coconut and felt better instantly. It was Easter day that day. I got a photo of me sitting on the railway line, drinking coconut, among the stalls, vendors, travelers. And wearing a big smile.
– All good?
– Yes, thank you, a lovely day. And we drove back to the city.
Afternoon: temples and the parade
Wat Phra Chetuphon, close to the Grand Palace is the largest temple in Thailand, has 95 pagodas and the famous reclining Buddha statue, 45 /15 meters. This place was the primary school of the world famous Thai traditional massage. I found some shade under a tree and sit there with a bottle of now warm water. It was unbreathably hot. I looked at the people and took some photos having the feeling that no photo can do justice to this beautiful place since all its beauty was in the details. A monk crossed the yard. A little girl was playing. I got courage to face the heat in the street and get back to my room, at the guesthouse. Wat Traimit is a must see also, where world’s largest Buddha made of solid gold weighing 5.5 tons is. But I skipped that one, my brand was melting and was late already for an entry. The air on the large boulevard was burning from the heat. I laughed thinking that this was by far the hottest day of my life. I still refer to extreme heat as Bangkok heat after that day of April 29th . I saw something yellow. Then a lot of yellow like I was hallucinating yellow from the heat. I wasn’t. All people around were wearing yellow t-shirts. Lots of men in yellow were sitting on the hot asphalt. I remembered I saw them in that morning, from the taxi. The driver said something about a rehearsal for the coronation ceremony, King Vajiralongkorn or Rama X, who’s image is one of the very first things you see once you land in Thailand, cause it’s everywhere, was ascending the throne following his father’s death in 2016. The ceremony for the new king was planned to take place few days after, on May 4th, at The Grand Palace. I admired the thousands of orchids decorating the sides of the boulevard trying to figure out how they were placed there and resist the heat. One man in his 20s, in a military dark suit was standing by the street, in plain sun. His face was covered in sweat that was dripping down his neck. In spite of the natural darker color of his skin I could see he was red from the heat. This is the image that stayed in my mind about that majestic rehearsal that I got the chance to watch a bit later that evening. I got to my room around 4PM, I felt I was dying of overheating. My heart was pumping fast. I turned the AC, drank water and laid on the bed in complete silence to cool down. An hour passed, hearing my heart slowly calming down. When I felt better, I got outside again, I was curious to see what was going on with the parade. Thousands of people in yellow were now sitting on the pavement, on the boulevard.
I found 30cm free and sat down. A man and a teen girl smiled to me, looking proud of what was happening in front. I tried to share the excitement. The girl was staring, I realized she had mental disabilities. She took my hand then started playing with my hair. Her father tried to stop her. It was ok. It was a hot long day and we were sitting down together on the pavement, watching the parade in front.
Evening: unicorns and Chinatown
Unicorn Cafe in Bangkok was iconic in 2019. Unicorns were a trend back then, toys, prints, all. Some were obsessed, some of my friends too. I took a taxi and got there an hour before closing. I had a hot chocolate in the pinkest cutest place filled with unicorns in pastel colors and of all sizes.
Unicorn Cafe
I took a walk to Chinatown after, I got lost in its vibe, walking among street food stalls, restaurants, neon lights, tuk-tuks. I loved it. I had dinner by the street, watching all that rush from a high table, sitting on a high chair. I was revolted to read in the menu: fin soup. Two Chinese next to me ordered that. As the night was gaining, I walked back to my accommodation, leaving behind the roam of the busy street with every step. Chinatown was noisy even at passed 11PM. After an hour long walk I was again in front of my door, again exhausted. I saw light under the door. I switch the key and push the door. I startled: a woman was inside my room, laid on the bed! I went straight to her:
– Who are you? What are you doing in my room?
She was pretty, petite and blinked fast and confused.
– I needed a bed for tonight, she replied with low voice. I said nothing. I started thinking that I must have booked by mistake a bed instead of a room? I went to my bed, sit and checked my booking. 2 min later I snaped again:
– Aha, I have booked correctly, the entire room, not just a bed. I know there are 6 beds here but I paid for the whole room. I realized all my stuff was now in order on my bed. I remembered I let it all spread all around the room, on 3 beds. I felt a bit uncomfortable but after all it was my room.
– My stuff was everywhere…
– I moved it there. I came late. I work in Bangkok. I will leave early in the morning, I go to my village. I needed a place to sleep and there was nothing and the lady…
– Aha, the lady!
– I took your thinks and place it on your bed…
– I’m sorry for my reaction, thank you, but I really paid for the whole room and you can imagine the surprise. We continued to talk and I felt bad for making her feel so bad. Meanwhile I briefly looked around to calm down my paranoia, all my stuff was there, all the moneym my camera, all. I called “the lady”, the crazy host. I was very nervous. She replied after a long time, very calm, listened to me and when I said I want to leave right away and get another room since she overbooked mine, she, even more calm, replied that I’m free to do as I please and wished me good night. It was both annoying and hilarious. It was 1am. I wanted to leave but in the same time I was in the room, AC was on, all my stuff on two beds now… and my new unwanted roommate seemed nice. So I did what was best, stayed.
I apologized again for making her feel like she invaded my room and we continued the talk. She was working in a restaurant in the city and finished very late that night, in the morning she was going home. All her things were in a nice order. I thought what a mess were mine… So, without any approval needed, I shared my hijacked room that night. We talked until we both fall aseep. Before dawn I heard her leaving the room quiety.
Day 3:
I woke up determined to make a scandal. Even though my roommate the night before was so nice and I finally liked her, I was still pissed off with the scammer host. I took a shower in the shared and overheated bathroom and I met her downstairs. With the most candid smile she said good morning as if nothing had happened. My determination kind of vanished, I realized she’s a lunatic scammer. When I confronted her about overbooking my room, she said that the girl needed a bed for last night, it was late, she had no other free bed left so she thought I won’t mind since my room had 6 beds. I ended the subject, it was in vain with her. I was leaving later that night and asked her to check out and pay for my 2 nights stay. She left to check the cost of my reservation.
– It’s …..
– Sorry, how much?
I thought I didn’t hear her well, it was the equivalent of 150 euro. For those money at that moment in Bangkok I could have easly got a 4 even 5 stars hotel. I went to her with the real cost shown on my phone, in my booking app, around 30 times cheaper.
– This is the cost of my reservation. I let the money on the table and left.
– Yes, thank you very much. Have a beautiful day, thank you, thank you… I concluded she was out of her mind. A total new category of scamer.
Time flew that day between a walk during the day on Khaosan Road, a pad thai in Soi Rambuttri, a hidden gem area known as the spot for the best food in Bangkok, too me just too touristy, a tuk-tuk ride with a driver making weird pig noises all the way to Wat Arun Ratchawararam Ratchawaramahawihan or better just Wat Arun, a white gorgeous Buddhist temple in the Bangkok Yai district, situated on Thonburi, on the west bank of the Chao Phraya River.
Wat Arun temple
Again, all photos were lame and did -1000 justice to the place. I crossed the river at blue hour, as the Wat Arun was shinning like a lighted diamond. I ended the day with pad thai, again. The world famed Raan Jay Fai place, Thailand’s only Michelin-starred street-food, was closed that evening. Jay Fai, the cook, is famous for its crab omelet, which costs around 1,200 baht, $33. I didn’t know that then. I ended up next, at Leung Pha and it was good for both me and by budget.
Leaving Bangkok
The night bus to Siem Reap was at midnight. At 23:30 I was in front of McDonalds on Khaosan Road. But Bangkok was not done with me yet. After 30 min of waiting, no one came. I started panicking. Then I started asking. I found out that there was a second McDonalds at the other end of Khaosan Road. 5 minutes before midnight and 10 minutes before the bus departure time a was running with my large suitcase trying to get through wat has become at that hour an open air party, with people drinking, laughing and dancing. It would have been funny if I wasn’t desperate. I got to the other damn McDo. I wait, nothing. I ask a guy from the security and he said they were there minutes before and left. I had a number in my reservation and I beg him to call. My heart was exploding as he talks on the phone when someone finally answered. A few seconds after a guy arrives with a motorbike to take me to the bus. But my luggage is too big. We manage an improvisation and he drives like crazy. I arrive to the bus and I realized they had stopped the bus and waited for me. I felt so ashamed. In my last seconds in Bangkok I ran to the guy and insisted that he takes money for the saving ride. He refuses, I insist. I’m in the bus, all sweating and breathing fast, apologizing for the situation. And off I am for Cambodia, at the end of a night ride. About two weeks later, in Sapa, Vietman.
– I hated Bangkok, OMG, it’s horrible. Lots of “mee too” followed…
– How about you?
– I loved it, great city, had a great time, I said, chewing on a piece of bún chả.
“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; It should change you.
I got so much to say about these last 2 years that I kept postponing the moment when I let all the words that are now wrapping memories to finally lay down on white.
Trips during the pandemic, trips after the pandemic and the multiple levels of chaos that followed. The bonanza of traveling in 2016-2019, those golden years, are sweet memories. Many things have changed. We all have changed. But even if The World is going nuts with every day, the pleasure of seeing new and beautiful places remains.
I should just restart from where I stopped: Kenya, Diani Beach, September 2019…
Ocean safari on Diani Beach, Kenya
The sea spider flipped over in his palm. Was huge, covering his whole palm.
– See, this means the water will come back soon, the fishermen know this sign…My father taught me…
I was so distracted by all the creatures that can be seen while walking on the bottom of the ocean during the low tide, 50-60 meters far from the shore. All sizes of octopus, one stone fish, a few star fish, sea cucumbers, plenty of crabs, huge sea urchins, all got trapped in small water wholes, now hiding between rocks, prisoners of the low tide, all waiting for the rescue brought by the high tide waters.
Diani Beach, Kenya, during low tide
I heard like in a dream my occasional guide, a guy I just met earlier on the beach and who suggested to have an “ocean safari”- a walk on the bottom of the Indian Ocean that was only possible in the mornings there, during low tide. He proposed to help me discover a lot of marine creatures that “you never saw in your life” and were now so easy to spot… And indeed, the one hour walk was fantastic…
His voice vanished in the sound of the waves hitting the reef, a new shore created by the low tide, about 20m in the front. The beach was far, a white line on the opposite side.
– I won’t… I reply automatically and I continued my exploration of small water wholes hiding living wonders of the ocean. I was fascinated.
I was walking on the bottom of the ocean, on white sand covered by sea grass, with stripes drawn by the waves. It felt unreal.
Diani Beach, Kenya. The 1st and last time I will ever touch a start fish
I wanted to take a video. I started from the horizon line of the waves and all the way around the reef, my new playground and finally pointed the camera towards the shore. I stopped suddenly. I thought I’m not seeing well. Water was coming. Was filling rapidly like a violent river the space between the area where I was and the beach, leaving me stranded on a small island that was disappearing with every second. First thought was of total panic. I had my phone, so swimming was not an option. My photos…Even if I had to swim, ocean currents away from the shore, at high tide, are strong.
I started running towards the shore that seemed so far now. In a few meters my feet were in the water, and the level was growing with every step. I was surrounded instantly, a river of currents reached me and I hold my phone in one hand up in the air. I was afraid and crazy scenarios got to my mind…
All my photos, the safari, the night safari, the flamingoes, the lions…all Kenya. My precious memories! I looked around and I was all alone. Then it hit me: what if I’m drowning!
I thought that if I’ll soon be forced to swim, as water will be way to deep to continue to walk, I’ll carry the phone in my mouth. Or fix it in my hair bun. Desperate people have desperate ideas… Water was getting deeper and deeper and stronger, I used one hand to keep balance. I was wearing flip flops and ran on rocks filled with sea urchins as water now reached my chest…
The day before, Amboseli Park
Kilimanjaro white peak rising high above the golden savannah that morning was an unforgettable sight. After 9am it was already gone behind the clouds. I washed my hair after that crazy safari the night before. I understood how dusty that ride was when I saw our van, in the morning. It was completely covered in a thick layer of beige powder, outside and inside. Richard our driver was struggling to clean it.
The car was repaired, cleaned to a decent level and off we were to a new safari day. Amboseli looked different from Mara, greener. Even the wildebeests look different, with darker shades of brown and quite fat.
The playground for all breathing wildlife in Amboseli was a widespread swamp. All creatures gathered there. Us included.
At noon we had our box lunch on a high point offering fantastic top views on the park.
When we left, we drove by a woman riding a jeep. She stopped and talked to Richard, our driver.
– I know everybody. He turned to us, smiling, as this was my line every time we met someone and he always proved to know each person. She was a conservationist involved in projects protecting elephants and rhinos. The news were good: they are now thriving in Amboseli, protected by poachers while photographed by thousands of tourists.
We saw a cheetah enjoying his meal, an unfortunate impala. Richard was intrigued how come we’ve missed it when we first passed by that bush he was hiding in and how come my eyesight that proved to be great for the last 7 days of safari have failed us this time.
– You didn’t see it! How come! It was there…
We then watched it getting up from the “crime scene” with a round belly and slow moves, passing by a heard of impalas that were all watching it carefully. They all saw he had a meal so no chase for the next 4-5 days.
A male elephant with huge tusks was enjoying an afternoon spa time, throwing dust on its back, creating a fantastic sight. He came very close to us, moving its huge ears. Richard wanted to start the engine but in the end there were no signs of aggression and we remained. It’s amazing how Richard knows their body language. After a few minutes, the elephant left, heading towards a young male in the horizon.
We left and after a few minutes drive in the hot dusty afternoon, Richard stopped the van. I knew why, I saw them too. One of the Chinese women in the van asked why we stopped. Richard just raised his hand, pointing his finger to the horizon.
In a cloud of dust and hot air from the midday heat, grey silhouettes were moving towards us. The long line was crossing the savannah. We waited. They approached keeping the rhythm. 24 elephants, mothers and babies lead by the matriarch, the oldest and most experienced one. Absolute silence… What a bliss to see that! Slowly they crossed the road a few meters from us and headed towards… of course, that swamp. Bath time. This was one of the most impressive scene I’ve witnessed in Africa.
Back to Diani Beach
With my heart beating and my mind filled with dramatic scenarios, running towards the shore in chest deep water, stepping on rocks, on sand, trying to avoid the black areas – sea urchins. I saw on my right a fisherman with a few octopus in his hand. Earlier it was another trying to get one from behind a rock. He was using a long needle, keep pushing is under the rock as the poor octopus covered his hand with its tentacles and finally vanished under the rock. I was happy. I love them too much to see them as food.
I saw people on the beach. I don’t think they saw how desperate I was. A few more steps and the water started to decrease. I was reaching the shore, the currents were still strong but as they now reached my knees, I jumped on the sand. I was ok. My phone was ok, even if all my clothes were drenched and water was flowing from me.
I got back to the resort where I had breakfast that morning. I was so relieved I was ok, back on land. The ocean was now conquering the last surface of the island formed during the tide. So, all the creatures were safe now.
I felt an itch as I was checking the level of damage on my wet wallet. I was all red. I left the restaurant without having any sunscreen on. Almost two hours in the open sun got me badly sun burnt.
The next day I took a tour to Wasini island. We visited a local village, we got on bord of an Arabic dhow and cruise to Kisite Marine Park. We met dolphins on the way. I did some snorkeling. I never saw corals that big, 1-2m wide. I was looking for a clown fish: Nemo. That was my quest but I didn’t manage to see one though I did saw anemonas, the algae where they live.
On the way back the people in the boat sang and danced African music. Our guide was great and funny, trying to make me and a guy from South Africa realize we were in love.
We had a delicious lunch on the island: fresh fish, coconut rice (best rice in my life up till now) and casava. I had an obsession to this new dish for me, casava and the guide brought me a whole plate.
– Should I pick you up later? Let’s go out!
Jaffa, my driver to the tour came with this proposal. I gave him my number.
7:30PM
Going out with a guy I barely knew, in Diani Beach, a place known for being unsafe, where tourists kidnappings happened and small crime was the norm… I didn’t know what to do, to go or stay inside, safe, but miss a night out… when I got the text message: I’m outside.
A few minutes later the gates opened. The resort was surrounded by a 3m tall wall and the entrance had 24h armed guardians that were checking every entrance and exit.
I left the resort for a night out in Diani beach with my new friend Jaffa. I was stressed.
We first went to a beach bar, I got a dinner there. Fish, of course. Around a pool table, a blonde girl was playing with a few locals. Slow music, waves, lights on the beach. It was beautiful.
When we left to the car we crossed a dark parking. I was looking around very strain. I heard steps behind me and I jumped. That’s it! I’m being kidnapped! It was all planned! My crazy paranoid mind. It was just someone passing, Jaffa smiled and opened the door. I don’t think he had any idea about what was going on in my mind at the beginning at that evening.
Next we stopped at Tandoori Bar, the hot spot of nightlife in Diani. I ordered Stoney, ginger beer, for me and beer for Jaffa and I insisted to pay, as he was driving. All my crazy thoughts vanished. Though I think he liked me, it was nothing but a night out between friends. We talked about dolphins, his boat, his family, my family, about Diani and Mombasa, about how unsafe these places are but mostly about how amazing Kenya is. The very few tourists around were either older man with too young Kenyan girls and a few older ladies with, also young, Kenyan guys.
– I don’t want my sister to be like this, with one of these guys, he told me at one point. I work hard so she can stay in school and have a good life.
I got back to the hotel safe and sound and beyond all, very happy and grateful for such a great night.
It was so beautiful, the white villas with large terraces build by the pools in the middle. The apartment was huge and the bed in the middle with a mosquito nest. For about 30 euro per night this was heaven.
A light breeze from the beach blew the curtains in the air. I went out to the beach, it was too beautiful to sleep.
– Hello my friend!
As in every night, he was there. William was guarding the beach from 7pm till 7am. Tall, well built, with grey hair and a contagious healthy laugh. I bought two Stoney. I had an obsession for this drink.
– Cheers! What a lovely night, my friend!
We talked for a long time, in the moon light, watching the waves leaving the beach as a new low tide was coming and a cat struggling to catch one of the crabs that were vanishing in the sand every single time she got closer.
The next evening I came to the beach to say good bye to my friend. Jaffa drove me to the airport. We board the ferry singing Shape of you and eating baobab seeds candies, a local delicious treat.
Till next time, Nairobi!
Rachel, whom I met online and organized all my safari trip saved the last day to spend it together in Nirobi. Three guys, friends of hers, joined us. We had a wonderful time feeding the giraffes at Langata Giraffe Centre, hearing the stories of orphan baby elephants at the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, having lunch and long walks around the city. In one souvenir shop I found a similar bracelet to the one I bought from the son of the tribe’s chief in Masai Mara. Identical, made of copper, only 20 times cheaper.
My last photo in Kenya is on top of Nairobi Tower, sitting down in a circle with Rachel and the guys.
What a story Kenya was! What a dream! What a beautiful place!
On the darkest of nights, little before midnight, a rusty white old van in a cloud of dust stopped in front of a camp, somewhere in Amboseli National Park. A light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. One man and 5 women stepped off the white van, dusting off their clothes with slow tired gestures. Richard, our driver, three Chinese young women, a Spanish woman and myself. Our unplanned night safari was over and so was our last drop of energy. We made it to the camp and we were all safe. We briefly saluted our new hosts and then let silence fill back the space. Miriam, the Spanish woman and I followed one of the men and his light on a small alley drawn on the ground by of stones painted in white, among lines of dark large tents. It was a deep dark.
Since all around I couldn’t see anything, I looked up, with no expectation. I stopped. From one side to the other of the sky, a thick white line was cutting the dark in two like a rainbow of stars. The Milky Way itself in its complete beauty, the way I could never even imagine it.
The Maasai Village
5am, Maasai Mara.
Kenya was turning even myself into a morning person. For the best of reasons: that morning we went to visit our neighbours in the Maasai village nearby the camp. As I walked the dusty road in that chilly morning (yes, mornings in Africa are damn cold), I saw through the rays of the early sun three young women, covered in red shuka cloth, the “African blanket”, carrying on their heads large plastic barrels.
– They are lucky in this village, the river is just 2km away, don’t have to carry water for long distance, the guy leading us said. I continued to watch those women until they became smaller and smaller.
My unnecessary long warm shower in the camp the evening before felt like a waste I now felt ashamed of, while the low pressure water suddenly seemed a luxury. Just a few steps away from the village, our “urban” morning routines seemed here, in the savannah, bad habits from a different world, a world of too much waste.
I always knew water is precious. I read about it, watched tv about it. But never actually faced this reality.
Maasai tribe welcome ceremony
Once at the gate, the welcoming ritual was performed by a group of men, singing and jumping high off the ground with their tall and slender silhouettes wrapped in traditional red blankets. The higher the jump, the better the prestige of the performer, we were told. After this we became their guests and we were invited inside. Small houses made of clay were built on the ground, all in the same shape, with round corners and tiny windows.
– We only stay in one place like this for 5 years. This is how long the termites need to destroy the houses. Then we move some other place and build another village like this from the ground. Women are the ones that build the houses…
Maasai village. The heard in kept inside the village because of predators
Every one of us was after invited to enter the houses. I went alone and was privileged to have the son of the tribe’s chief as my host. I followed him through a small opening serving as an entrance, lowering my head to fit it. For the next few seconds I couldn’t see anything. It was completely dark inside. I followed his voice in the dark until I saw a glimpse of light in front. It was a fire made on the ground, in the middle of a room. A woman was busy cleaning a few pots gathered around that fire. She remained silent as we took a sit down, on small wooden chairs. I now started to see better around but the heavy smoke inside made it difficult to breathe and my eyes were hurting. I struggled to keep this for me and be a polite guest. The young woman seemed disturbed by my visit. I would have been the same in her place.
My host started talking, presenting the house, offering information about the way they live. I felt he was somehow uncomfortable with this situation of having a stranger curious about his way of living. For the money that the tourists bring, the locals have to perform this show but this doesn’t meat they feel comfortable doing it.
The woman remained quiet, ignoring my presence. I was feeling uncomfortable with this situation as well, while I was still struggling with that smoke.
– ….and the cow we keep it here… he smiled hesitant and showed me the door in the back.
– So we have fresh milk every morning, this is our fridge, he joked with a shy smile.
– Hmm, like my grandma, I said. My remark made him stop and look back with surprise. Suddenly we reached a common ground and we didn’t felt so different anymore.
I told him how my grandparents lived back in the days, having seven kids and keeping animals in the stable build close to the house. Next we spoke about how people process milk, conserve the meat without freezing it or use plants for medical purposes. We both knew that mint was good for stomach pains and we laughed abut this. It was interesting to exchange these information. His voice became different, relaxed and he was smiling.
I asked about the Maasai tradition involving men that turn 18 years old and need to have their initiation in life: they leave the community and go live for 3 years in the wild. They learn how to stay alive in the savannah and most of all to respect the greatest teacher: nature. The final exam is to hunt a lion and is performed the Maasai way, not waiting like a coward with a gun in a jeep to shoot the animal in the back, from a long distance. The skin of the lion is then part of the ceremony back in the village.
An ancient tradition that is rarely kept nowadays, after the cowards with guns have succeeded to reduce the lions population too close to extinction.
So the Maasai are finding themselves forced to adapt to the new reality.
I completely forgot about the smoke and the pain in my eyes and when we finally came out of the house, laughing and chatting, my Spanish friends from the camp looked fully surprised and as soon as we left the village they were curious to find out more about my visit inside the house.
-I want to offer you something special. It’s a good price, my host said, taking me aside, before leaving the village.
– Is it a…
– A lion fang, yes…
– You want to see me behind bars? I joked, with the beautiful piece in my hand. I knew that in Kenya, wearing, owning, buying or selling any piece of wildlife material is is strongly prohibited and punished. – Look, this is fantastic but I can’t have it, it belongs to only one owner – the lion. But thank you, I’m deeply honoured.
In reality I was shocked…
Before leaving the village, the Maasai taught us their main survival skill: how to make fire in the wild out of 2 pieces of wood and a little dry grass. Rubbing the dry wood until the ash comes out and then blow it on the dry grass till fire is born seemed easy but I know looking is not equal to doing and my chances of surviving in the wild are below 0.
– It’s marketing…
Richard, our driver and guide cut down my enthusiasm about the lion’s fang necklace. Maybe he was right. But one thing that I know for sure is that any other necklace bone I saw after, during the trip to Kenya, and I’ve seen many in a lot of places, didn’t even got closer to the one I hold in my hand in that village.
– Maybe, just marketing… I answered him, playing with the new copper bracelet on my hand and the new camel bone necklace on my neck. Souvenirs from the tribe’s chief son.
The Maasai market
In an improvised flea market outside the village, a bunch of women were selling hand made crafts: Maasai jewelries, small wooden sculptures and Maasai war masks. I bought a mask and two Maasai warriors chopped in ebony wood and painted in red and white. They will always remember me of the two unreal silhouettes of the Maasai warriors I first saw when we entered Maasai Mara, in the first day. Like two guardians of the wild, an unforgettable fantastic image!
Leaving Mara
The last time I touched the ground of Maara was in an improvised market. A few Maasai women were trying to sell their products to the tourists in the cars stopped in front of a gate, before exit. I liked a red bracelet and tried to negotiate the price…
– You are killing mama Maasai! the lady said. She was wearing all the colours of the world plus a beautiful smile. Who could resist such a seller. I left the car to see more of her products. I left with the red bracelet on my hand, bought for the priced she asked, waving my hand from the window as our van was leaving.
– The road took us through the Massai people territories, guarded by gates and barriers that opened each time Richard was paying a small tribute for our passing. And there were many of these on that dusty road crossing the savannah.
We drove for hours through the savannah until we finally reached the paved road again. We left behind all the wonders of Mara, its fantastic Maasai warriors, our tents in the camp, the village and all the wildlife and dreamy landscapes that not even dreams could project.
Maara is truly, madly, deeply unforgettable.
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Lake Naivasha
We’ve been driving since forever. The whole day…
The group in the van changed on the way, the American couple stayed in Maara for a day more, we said a long goodbye that morning as they were continuing their 7 months trip to Africa and after to Asia. Together with the Spanish couple and the two Chinese girls we were heading to Naivasha. On the way Martina joined us, a Swiss girl that has been working as a volunteer in Uganda for the last three years with an NGO involved in offering protection to abused children, from sex trafficking, child marriage, violence and even slavery.
At first she was silent. But with a Catalan guy and a Venezuelan woman in the van, no one can stay silent for too long. Marina started soon talking and just minutes after she had all of us silenced. She told us about what she saw in the last three years in Africa, about the kids in the centre, the terrible abuse cases, about Congo, the rebels there and the lava lake, the mountain gorillas in Uganda… We were charmed. This 20 smith years old woman has seen a lot, more than many in a lifetime.
– Ahhhhhaaahhhh, Ahhhhh, Ahhhhhhh
We heard out of the blue this scream that brought us all back to reality from the world where Marina’s stories have taken us for the last hours.
I was looking on the window and saw the pink line somewhere in front, far away, by the shores what seemed to be a large lake, but I didn’t realised what it was until I heard the same Chinese girl as loud as she could:
– Flamingooooooooos!
After all that we’ve seen together the last days, lions, leopard, giraffes, elephants, all the incredible wildlife and the views that made us express in all ways from tears to laughs or exclamations, in all that time the Chinese girls were quite reserved in reactions, as if they did safari their entire lives. In fact all of us in the group were first timers.
Well, this time Kenya had got them truly! They were going completely nuts seeing all that pink! We all turned back to them in surprise and the next second an explosion of laughs followed.
Truth is, we were now getting closer to the wide beach and understood what provoked their exuberant and hilarious reaction: all was pink in front of us. Thousands and thousands of pink flamingos were colouring the shores of Lake Naivasha in pink! A spectacular sight!
Pink shores of Lake Naivasha
We all jumped off of the van as soon as we reached the beach. We tried to get closer but they seemed determined to maintain the distance. And then, something incredible happened: a few flamingos opened their wings and flew off, cutting the air meters above the shore. In a perfect synchronising, they were joined soon by hundreds of others until the point where whole sky turned pink and the sound of their beating wings replaced the silence.
In the sunset light this was a view to remember!
Flamingos on Lake Naivasha
I was the last to leave the beach and brought with me incredible photos and the promise to share them with the rest of the group after. I was wearing pink flamingo feathers earrings bought from a seller on the beach. I felt nothing but pure happiness.
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We spent the night in Naivasha, in a hotel. After sleeping in a tent for so many nights, a hotel room seemed like a long forgotten comfort from another life.
Safari in Niavasha
We completed the famous BIG 5 during that morning safari in Naivasha park. The missing one was the rhino, after we’ve already seen in Maara lion, lepard, water buffalo and elephant. The feeling was of the purest happiness.
Rinos in Naivasha Park, Kenya
We then took a boat ride, saw hipos from very close, quite too close at one point where about ten of them started pop up at the surface and our guide made a sudden manoeuvre to get us far from there fast. They are not necessarily violent but getting too close to them drivers them mad and if so, yes, they have what they need to kill a human with little effort if they want so.
After a few tries in vain to tempt an eagle that was too full for that day for another easy meal, he finally offered the much desired show: left its brunch and cut the air in high speed to catch the fish thrown by our guide.
– Maybe he couldn’t see the fish we threw…was my silly conclusion coming from a too tired brain
– He’s an eagle…
Olga and I started laughing loud in the boat at her very correct remark. After the Spanish couple and Marina left the group that morning, Olga, a Russian woman that I’ve already seen around in the camp in Maara, joined us, as her trip plan through Kenya was at that point the same as mine. She was living in Chicago after graduating in US and was initially traveling with her brother and his wife and kids in Kenya. After the safari in Maara, she left them and was heading back to Nairobi. On her way she was sent by the tours agency to our group.
We started talking and got close during that day. I found out that she has joined the American couple in their extra safari day in Maara. That day they went again to the river in Maara, the place were the great migration crossings happen and they saw a crossing that very day. Hundreds of wildebeests rushed out of the blue towards the muddy waters. It was a life and death battle as crocodiles are waiting there a whole year for the feast. I saw the photos she took, the event I too wanted so badly to whiteness. But no wildebeest was willing to die when I was there.
Amboseli Park and the night safari
My eyelids were heavy, my mind filled with images of safari, lakes, flamingoes, too dusty roads, colourful dressed people in front of colourful stores, endless roads, crowded markets… And everywhere the red soil of mama Africa. From our initial group the only ones left were the two Chinese girls with whom I wasn’t talking much anyway. The trip through Kenya was continuing towards Amboseli.
Another Chinese young woman, a teacher, traveling alone and a Spanish woman, Miriam, also traveling alone before her 3 weeks of volunteering in an orphanage in Kenya, have joined us. We were now 5 women, 3 of us solo travellers. I wasn’t in a friendly mode anymore, I felt like I had enough new friends for the last days. The two women were just starting their trip to Kenya and were excited to have their first safari in Amboseli. I realised how lucky I was to have joined such a cool group from day one: all pretty close as age, coming from different countries but all had travelled to enough places to have nice stories to tell and most important: all coming to fulfil a lifetime dream: the first safari in Africa. So we shared all the happiness, intensity and excitement of each moment. And this truly made the trip more exciting for everyone.
We made a stop in a small town where Richard, our driver had something to do. A few kids were playing around and as we waited, I had the idea to call two of them and give them some candies. I had a one kg bag of caramel candies that I had in mind to share with some kids at one point, as a friendly gesture. The next second I found myself pushed agains the van by a tsunami of small bodies and a sea of little hands grabbing my hands in a me, me, me, me, me noise that immediately attracted all eyes around. I tried to organise them, to give an equal number of candies to each, but i was fulling myself. They calmed down when the last candy I had was in the hands of one of them. I wished I had 10 kg more candies… With cute candid smiles and mouths full, next second they spread all around, continuing their play from where they left it.
The kids
The Chinese teacher was apparently inspired by this and she went to buy something from a store nearby. For my surprise, minutes later, she came back with a big bag full of pens.
– Didn’t they have candies?
– Yes, but I want to give them something they useful for school.
I smiled and wanted to see where this goes… She waves the kids that rushed again towards the van, ready for another round of candies. Her authoritarian air stopped them from repeating the episode they had with me. After a well prepared and full of motivation two minutes speech about the importance of education and the benefits of a pen in the life of a student, she starts sharing a pen to every kid. Well this time the interest was that low that some of them didn’t even wanted the pen and those that did took it were having long disappointed faces.
– Now you can also make drawings if you want, she tried to advertise the pens to the kids that were already leaving.
A few hours later, on the road, I realised that my cooper bracelet bought from the village, from the chief’s son, was gone. This made me sad and I remained silent for the rest of the drive.
Small towns, villages, markets, the live colourful movie of Kenya was developing on the screen of my window. In a small town we made a stop and I got off the van to stretch my legs a bit. I bought the most perfect mangos from a lady. I could feel their delicious scent from the stall. I had in mind to eat them in the camp, once we arrive in Amboseli.
I was amused when the Chinese girls, after all those days when they had separate food from the rest of us, prepared for them only and never touched the food or fruits we had served at the points where we stopped on the way for lunch, this time they totally broke the no 1 rule of food safety when traveling: “if you can’t peel it, don’t eat it” and they bought from a vendor on the street two packs of assorted fresh pre-cut fruits. I then was waiting for them to ask Richard to pull over so they can run into a bush… it didn’t happen.
After hours and hours of driving when we all couldn’t wait to finally reach the camp, we stopped. The road was blocked by a long line of vehicles. After about 30min we realised no wheel has moved so something was going on. The cause of all this was far away, in the front, but no one knew what it was, not even the local kids that came to see why so many cars were blocked on the road. The sunset signalled that the last hour of daylight was going to end soon. We were blocked. From one person to the other the information finally reached us: the Maasai tribes that were owning that land had a dispute with the authorities and in conclusion they blocked the road. Police came and a rock fight started. I saw Richard was becoming worried and keep talking to other drivers. Some cars were turning back.
As the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon, Richard came to us and said we’re going to follow another road, through the savannah since we were not far from the camp. We left the road and minutes later the road was gone behind our van in a cloud of dust. The bonus safari at sunset made us very happy. For Miriam it was a first and she got very exited to see the first wildebeest.
– You’ll see thousands, I said and the Chinese girls and I started laughing.
We drove by groups of wildebeests, impala, zebras. The night was conquering the day and soon all I could see were little lights disappearing in the dark: the eyes of different animals.
We were driving for an hour already. Sometimes I could see in the lights of the van, in the front, groups of wildebeests or zebras turning heads and looking at the van surprised as if they were saying: what the hell you do here at night? We didn’t knew either… Richard was driving fast and was very silent. Every few minutes the van was jumping in the air and landing back. I had to use both hands to hold myself and avoid being thrown and get hurt. My hands were so tight it hurt. I couldn’t see it but I smell dust. Tones of dust, the whole dust in the world. I feared that we got lost and had no freaking idea where we were. No one was saying anything and the Chinese girls have stopped asking questions long ago.
The night was so black and the sky was turned into a curtain of stars. I didn’t know which feeling was stronger, fatigue or worry or both in a hard to bare mix. I was waiting for the moment when the van will either break in two or crush in the middle of no where since there was no road around, not even upon savannah standards.
Out of the dark a gate appeared in front. Upon it I could read Amboseli. Richard got off the van and I saw a light cutting the dark and then a small window. Richard talked to the man for a minute. The gate opened, we entered and after who knows how many minutes we reached another gate, the one to the camp. Our mighty van bit the dusty road and the breaks hold in still, finally. When the tones of dust in the air around started to lay back to the ground, I saw a light was lit, a door opened and three Maasai young men came out with sleepy faces. Richard opened the door for me and the 5 of us stepped off the white van, dusting off our clothes with slow tired gestures. The night safari was over! When I saw Richard I was shocked: his face was now all read not black, his t-shirt all wet and lines of sweat were pouring down its face. I then understood how worry he was not for us but only for our safety. But he got back his smile and we joked about our adventurous night safari. We thanked him. We’ve reached Amboseli safe and I was relieved, even though my Maasai mask arrived broken in two and the mangos I bought from that nice lady were turned into mashed mangos and ruined.
I shared the tent with Miriam since the last thing I would have been able to do at that point, after that day and that evening, was sleeping alone. That’s the last memory of that night:
– Miriam, I think we have mice inside the tent….
– Yes, there’s mice shit everywhere…
– Do you think mice can climb up the bed?
– In the bed… no, they can’t.
– Ok. Good then.
And I feel asleep feeling safe.
P.S. It’s been a year and three months since I wrote here… I feelt like couldn’t do it anymore in all this time. A lot has happened. With every day of this last two years we all got more and more far away from what we used to call normality before March 2020. Too many “it can’t be” from the past defines the present reality. The only constant and anchor that remains is nature. The healer, the comfort, the hope.
With the Spanish couple, Miriam and Martina I’m still in contact, as Instagram friends. I was in contact with Olga as well, until last week when I saw she unfollowed me on Instagram. Probably due to my anti war in Ukraine stories. Though she was also posting same thing, it seems it was just pretending. I unliked her posts and blocked her account.
The next morning, opening the tent to this: Killimanjaro, before the last day of Kenyan safari. This time: Amboseli
Kilimanjaro Mountain seen from Amboseli, Kenya
Next: safari on land in Amboseli and safari on the Indian Ocean, Diani Beach
The sun had almost completed its journey for that day. Just another one for it and an unforgettable one for me. It had nothing but the seize of a palm left to shine light and as I looked around, towards the huge umbrella acacias, I thought: if only I could stay like this forever, with my zebra print bracelet made of camel bone on the left wrist and the red beaded one from mama Masai on the right, with the image of the three lionesses resting in the golden grass, by the palm trees near the swamp, the 24 elephants crossing the path in a cloud of dust, the sleeping hyenas and the hypos in the swamp of Amboseli….
The savannah was like this: complete.
I wrote these lines a year ago, watching the sunset in Amboseli, at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro with its white peak of snow, at the end of a 7 days safari in Kenya because I wanted to be able to read it after and feel what I felt then: completeness.
27 days before
A safari in Africa was always a dream that seemed to big. Or should I say too expensive. After I came back from Puglia, Italy, in August, I was wandering online, looking for my second trip of last summer. It was when I found out about an event I did heard before, one of nature’s great wonders, The Great Migration, how it’s called the world’s largest migration of wildlife. Over two million animals migrate from Serengeti, in Tanzania, to the greener pastures of Maasai Mara, in Kenya. It’s the wildebeest who set the start, followed of course by other animals. I remembered my reaction when I read on a website the animals that was guaranteed to see in each park. Lions were called abundant and guaranteed to see in Mara. It seemed a marketing line at that moment…
I bought the tickets 20 days before the departure and what followed was a marathon of emails and messages to a significant number of tour operators. Some didn’t answer, some were starting the conversation from 4000 euro for 3 days of safari, others had packages of 10-25K. I soon found out Kenia is not a cheap destinations when it comes to safari, but absolutely doable if you work enough to plan the trip. So I meet Rachel, the one that at the end of 37 emails in a week had me as her customer. I started from a 2 days safari and she got me sent the advance for a 7 days safari: Masai Mara, Amboseli, Nakuru.
The plan was done, the reservations made, my safari wardrobe bought, plus a telephoto lens for my camera, the vaccine for yellow fever checked, the visa obtained. After the 7 days safari, I planned a few days on the coast, in Diani beach, close to Mombasa, for some relaxing beach time. Kenia was already giving me butterflies like no other destination before.
Arriving
After a few hours stop in a hot like hell Doha, I arrived in Nairobi at midday. The airport seemed a lot smaller than others I’ve been before in Europe or Asia. My name written on a sheet of paper at the entrance was what I was looking for. Josea was my driver from the airport to my hotel. I was so excited and talkative and we became friends very quickly and by the time I reached the hotel we had the plan for that day. He needed extra money for his girl that needed a heart surgery in India and I needed to see Nairobi with a local.
A 3m high concrete wall and an iron gate opened when we arrived. Three men with riffles came out and check the car, only after we were allowed to enter. I was going to find out that this is common in Kenia for places destinated to tourists.
– Hello sister, was the salute that made me smile so many times in Kenya. Welcome to Nairobi! First time here?
Kibera – o glimpse on life in the largest urban slum in Africa
I felt immediately as I landed in Nairobi what it feels like to feel different because of the color of your skin. As soon as I left the airport, I saw no other white people on the streets, in the cars, in the shops, in the markets. It felt strange.
Josea and I we drove on the streets in Nairobi center that looked as if it could be placed in any other country: tall buildings of offices, large boulevards, parks, fountains, busy crossroads. Then we left the central area and continue until a sea of rusty roofs appeared out of nowhere.
Top view over Kibera, Nairobi
I was curious to see it the moment I read that there were walking tours organized there. Tours for white people in clean clothes to see the black in extreme poverty. As if we all don’t have our poors in our own cities in every single country on this earth. But as a friend who came back from Mumbai once said, their poverty is more of a poverty then ours.
Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world and the largest in Africa is home to, some say 1M, others 1.4M, Josea said almost 2M Actually, a look from the above tells the truth: only God can know.
Street in Kibera, Nairobi, Kenya
A fact is that 60% of Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, 4.4 million people, live in low income settlements, meaning slums. They occupy occupying 6% of the land. So 60% on 6%. There’s no need of Communist ideology to see this gap is too deep and too dark. And so was the life in Kibera the day I was there and all the others that followed. Poverty can’t be described and I won’t even dare to try it. It can be seen but will continue to be never understood by those who were offered more simply by birth. Because one with a full belly will never understood the one who’s starving.
I left ashamed towards the people in Kibera we drove by that day. Ashamed because it’s not fair. I didn’t leave the car and took no photos except thiese on the street we first entered the area.
Kibera, Nairobi
After I went quiet, as the street got more and more narrow and I saw the cobweb of streets that were only accessible by foot and that went deep into the heart of Kibera, from which I stole images of faces and little fragments of life scenes. I was just a passing view of a car with a white woman that day. But for me it was a thousand of perspective changing images. The start of a lesson offered by Africa, a place it’s impossible to come back from the same as you left.
Nairobi for tourists
The Giraffe Centre, established to protect the endangered giraffe that is found only in the grasslands of East Africa, a place where you can feed the giraffes, was just closing. As we left, a warthog was crossing the little alley to the parking lot. This was my first encounter with the African wild life and got me head over flip-flops excited. Josea was amused by my reactions. Next, he had to stop the car by the road for the second encounter: a tree filled with marabou storks. I crossed a heavy circulated road just to get closer to a gate where I could see them better. It started to look like the Africa I was dreaming about.
Giraffe Manor
My phantasy of visiting this place and see the giraffes sneaking their heads on the windows and chewing bites on the plates on the beautifully arranged table, stayed a phantasy. The place was accessible only for guests, which in perfectly understandable when you pay between 500-1000 $ for a room. Maybe some other time. As Josea started telling me about the fields of Mara packed with wild life, I instantly forgot about it. He took me after to a shop selling Maasai art. Those masks and mahogany sculptures were fantastic but all was very expensive. A great sculpture piece could cost up to 15k $. I bought my zebra bracelet made of camel bone there, for about 12$. The one I wore after in every single day of that trip.
Carnivore is the most famous restaurant in town. Opened since 1980 and included on the list of the best 50 restaurants in the world, the place is a heaven for meat eaters, with its all you can eat buffet and the huge round barbecue in the middle and a hell on earth for vegetarians. It used to be very exotic in terms of menu, in the past, until Kenia imposed a ban on game meat.
It was packed with white tourists wearing safari outfits and the gates kept opening and the armed guards kept checking on the jeeps bringing the guests for that night. It was nice but too Westerner for the taste of someone like me, too hungry for the Kenyan culture.
Dinner in Nairobi
Josea fulfilled my wish: we went for dinner in a local restaurant, “where he would go for good local food”. We entered a large covered terrace with white plastic tables and chairs. Nothing posh. All eyes turned to the entrance, to us. The clientele was entirely formed by locals. We stopped at the counter where a refrigerated display case was full with pieces of raw meat. I let Josea made the choice but as I saw him picking a piece of ribs with more bones then meat and not looking good at all, I started thinking that the biscuits I bought with me from home, for emergency reasons only, might be my dinner that evening. The meat was taken to the barbecue. I was so hungry… A lady came for the order and stayed for a conversation. She looked at me smiling as I was exposing all my excitement for finally being in Kenia, “to see the lions”.-
– When I see you people flying here from the other side of the world to see the lions, and I see them every day from my kitchen window! she laughed and made a move in the air with her hand while my jaw just dropped.
We talk and talk and my dinner was no where to be seen. I started reaching my eyes for it every 5 minutes. When a tall men carrying a large plate approached our table, with a big piece of meat on it that was so hot it was still frying, spreading a steam of barbecue all around, I fixed my eyes on it. He cuts it into pieces and the lady brings a few bowls with cabbage salad, tomato, pepper and onion salad and a plate with the African polenta as I named it, only their ugali is white not yellow. It didn’t look fabulous. The first bite totally changed my philosophy about food: it was the best, sweetest, juiciest, crunchiest barbecue I ever had. It absolutely confirmed all the rumours I have heard before about Africans the masters of barbecue. Those goat ribs in that evening in Nairobi were so much praised in all the stories I’ve told my gourmand friends after. We ate and talk and laughed and I knew that Carnivore couldn’t offer me that. It was the perfect start of a week long safari in Kenya.
I smelled pot. Not like in Amsterdam but strong enough. In a few meters I saw where the smell was coming from. The street I entered was full of dealers with small stalls improvised where piles of different types of dry marijuana were waiting to make someone happy.
– Come, wanna try? It’s good stuff, come try and see. Here… said a loud voice.
I ignored the invitation. If I didn’t know I was in one of the safest capitals in Europe, I might have felt very insecure in that underground area. Was just one of the colourful sides of Copenhagen.
When there’s an avalanche forecast and terrible weather in Lofoten, Norway, good old Europe has always a treat to offer for a freezing weekend at the end of January. I got the ticket three days before the flight.
A chilly Friday morning in a city with deserted streets after the cold winter rain. The kind of welcome typical for the North that I so deeply love.
The icon, Nyhavn
With very little preparation since it was a last minute decision, I decided to see the city by going with the flow and see what happens. I took my camera and left the room from the hotel near by the Central Station. I took a cold deep breath before what was to be a whole day long walk, my favourite thing to do when I’m away. I followed the flow of people, passed by Tivoli Gardens, City Hall Square, Rådhuspladsen and found a pedestrian street that seemed nice to walk, filled with stores. I later found out it was the famous Strøget Street, one of the longest shopping streets in Europe, of 1,1km, also one of the most high-profile streets of “København”.
When a student doing a poll among those looking like tourists asked if I liked the city and why, I replied I still don’t now, it’s been 2h only. But I already felt I will.
I was quickly convinced a few meters in the front, where I smelled something delicious coming from on oven. I was hungry so I entered the place and bought a Kanelstang, a cinnamon rod. It was a bakery with an impossible name: Lagkagehuset. The next second I thought why didn’t I know this exists?! This famous, old and very traditional Danish delicious pastry, I’ve learned after, a cinnamon twist but much larger and cut in slices, is a wonder of taste with two types of filling, vanilla cream and cinnamon filling. From that moment I’ve found my obsession in Copenhagen and every day I had 2-3 slices, even bought a few pieces for home.
In King’s New Square, enjoying my street food lunch, a hotdog, (another reason why I like Northern Europe), I watched the sky getting clear and the rays of sun enhancing the colours of Nyhavn, the symbol of the city. A picture perfect view in a place where you’d wish your stroll to be a never-ending one.
I continued by the water, in a quiet area, crossing a bridge and arriving in a place where the Nordic architecture, perfect in its minimalism, was at home. I crossed a street following the indicator for the place I was searching for. A few steps further another world has opened: old buildings, abandoned warehouses with rusty walls covered in graffiti and impressive street art murals, little streets with cosy little eateries and bars – Freetown Christiania. An autonomous anarchist district and most hippie neighbourhood in Denmark’s capital. Placed in a once abandoned military base, where in the 70’s a group of hippies broke down the barricades and declared the place as their own, completely independent of the Danish government and laws. Since then it stays like this. Nowadays 1000 people live there, by their own rules, once published at the entrance: “Dear friends, There are three rules in the green light district: have fun; don’t run—it causes panic; no photos—buying and selling hash is still illegal.”
The so called Green Light District was that day ,as in most days when the police is not coming for a visit that ends in multiple arrests, covered in a cloud of pot smoke. Some were selling, some were buying, many were smoking. Everywhere. All in the open. In spite this taste of freedom, cannabis is illegal in Denmark and consumption, possession and selling will get one in prison if caught. If…but until then, freedom gets translated here is disobedience.
Besides the dizzying clouds lifting up in the air, over the roofs, the place is also known for adopting a way of living that discourages consumerism, mass production and many other sins of our modern world. Here those are replaced with a slow living garnished with its benefits: hand crafted products, bio foods and the serenity of those 1000 living far from the madding crowds working 9 to 5 and more to pay for what they, and myself included here, don’t even need. After all, Christiania has a strong point, besides being a controversial commune.
The blue hour in Nyhavn is magical. Has so much of that charm from the old times. As the lights in each of the coloured houses are turned on, the guests occupy their tables in restaurants, voices and laughs and kitchen noises begin and the scent of delicious meals fill the air of an almost there Friday night.
A light cold drizzle fell over the streets, the roofs and all those people wandering the city just as I arrived back at my hotel.
Learning Hygge in Copenhagen
Meeting new people is one of the best things that happen when traveling solo. So I got an invitation for a late drink that I accepted.
– Happy New Year!
I raised my eyes from my tom yom soup, in the Thai restaurant across my hotel where we met.
– It’s almost February, for how long are people going to continue make this wish? I said amused.
– Exactly why I said it.
It was almost midnight and I didn’t feel the next hours vanishing. I had a lovely night, with great company, conversation and beer, in a bar decorated as if for one main purpose: to explain to foreigners the principles of hygge concept. From the warm atmosphere as we entered the place, completely hidden in dark, with the only source of light from the white candles placed on black tables or by the large windows facing the street, were rare passers by were moving as shadows in the dark, to the low nice music. The minimal design inside, with simple yet smart chosen pieces, cozy pillows and candles everywhere, still maintaining a diffused light, was the perfect picture of the famous Danish way of life that took in recent years the world by storm, with books, classes and masters promising to explaining basically how to live slow and enjoy the moments of peace. Hygge is about enjoying the good things in life with dear people around, lighting a candle in a long cold winter night, have a glass of wine or movie. Candlelight is hygge, cosying up with a loved one is hygge, relax is hygge….
– What we are doing right now, this is hygge. Now you understand it.
By the end of that Friday night the drizzle stopped, the streets got empty and I have learned hot to pronounce the word HYGGE like Danish do. Somehow similar to the English word “hiccup” .
The Saturday
I took a long walk in that cold sunny day. Rød pølse (red sausage) from one of the the ubiquitous stalls selling hot dogs and kanelstang (cinnamon rod) from Lagkagehuset for my Danish breakfast.
Strøget Street was entirely packed with people, Nyhavn even more. The normal Saturday mood in any European capital, busy and madly crowded. A waiter was cleaning the tables outside the restaurant opened in the former St. Nicholas Church, just in case the sunny day will encourage anyone to eat al fresco. The oldest church in town is used now also as a gallery for a contemporary art centre. In the North, this kind of metamorphoses of churches is not rare.
I continued my stroll from Amalienborg, the home of the Danish royal family where the serious guards were the subject of tourists thousands of photos, to Kastellet, a star shaped old military fortress, with the near-by beautiful Anglican church St Alban, built in grey stone, with a high spire and gorgeous stained glass windows. I couldn’t decide which side is best, the one facing the green park, next to an old tree, or the one by the lake behind it. With its peace and green in the middle of winter, the white clouds mirroring the lake, this place is probably my favourite in Copenhagen.
Langeline Park for a little stop and then another long walk, by the sea, to Copenhagen most photographed stop: The Little Mermaid, inspired by the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale about a mermaid who gives up immortality in the depths for the love of a prince on land. The rays of sun right before sunset were penetrating the heavy grey clouds and the little statue in bronze, caught in the middle of the scene, with the sea as a background, like the celebrity of the city, which indeed she is. It took me about 20 minutes to get a chance to take a single photo without having many people by the statue.
Known as the oldest and most beautiful street in Copenhagen, there is no wonder why Magstræde, with its coloured old houses and cobbled pavement is the most instagrammed, photographed, shared, posted and liked. Little adorable shops like one in the basement of an old building, with baby blue wooden old windows, where a woman was creating arrangements made of dry flowers while I stoped in front that pretty window and couldn’t stop watching her, the bar with in an old library, the shining old silverware shop. I went up and down the street a few times until blue hour covered again the city.
I waited 30 minutes for a bubble tea inside Tase of Taiwan just because I got convinced by the line in front. I got taro milk tea just because it was purple. And just because I wanted to try something new, I discovered my next crush. I fell in love with the taste of taro.
Tivoli, the 176 years old amusement park, right in the middle of the city, was closed for guests in those days. To see it just a little bit I entered through a restaurant, then access the terrace outside, facing the park. With cold hands in a freezing windy evening, I sipped my taro ice bubble tea in the most dreamy winter wonderland….of fake snow. The park was being painted in white for Winter in Tivoli, an event meant to bring the white winter in a city that so far that winter have seen no snow.
– In my first winter here, 8 years ago, it was snow starting November and lasted a few months. In recent years…global worming…and now, this year, no snow at all.
Was the answer to my silly question: does it snow in Copenhagen. Sure it does.
I met my good old friend from Nepal in a cozy 18th-century basement venue with ceiling beams: Puk restaurant. A place well known for the delicious traditional food it serves. We had the famous Smørrebrød, open-faced sandwich with rye bread topped with all kind of toppings, pickled herring, wild salmon, flæskesteg – Danish pork roast, Leverpostej – Danish liver pate, frikadeller – Danish meatballs and so many dishes in small portions so we can taste more. In the end, I felt like a balloon. but I knew the memories of this dinner will make me crave for it many times later.
We said fair well when the night was turning to morning, after 2 more bars and 2 more beers with long and pleasant conversations about Denmark, his life as a Nepalese in Copenhagen, about Nepal wonders and caste traditions and our more then 10 years friendship. I renewed my promise to visit his country. At that time we draw a plan for next year.
Nothing did I know in that weekend at the end of January 2020, with crowded streets, Saturday night out, dining in restaurants and so many travels on the list for the year that has just begun. That reality seemed forever. Copenhagen was wonderful in all means, was like a deep breath before a long dive. How much I now miss what I never thought I will one day: flying
7 years ago in December I found a cheap ticket to a new destination, a city I haven’t seen yet. I went with a friend and I had one of the best weekends in my life. This is how and why I fell in love with Istanbul, the city on two continents. The surprise city that got me from having no expectations to being thrilled, drunk and ultimately in love. With its cobbled narrow streets on a rainy day, its tasty food, its mosques and sound of prayers, the colours of the Grand Bazar, its nightlife and, finally…. one of its inhabitant. What else could I have asked from a city?!
15h in Istanbul
Any return to a city I love is pure joy and Istanbul is on top of that list, even for a 3rd visit. So a 15h layover was an opportunity I couldn’t miss even-though I had to pay the price of a sleepless night. After all, layovers are nothing but free visit and a chance to see more of the world.
At 7:30am Taksim Square was sleeping. The restaurants on the little streets around were all closed. And I was hungry and needed wifi and a place to leave my luggage for 10h. Anywhere this would be a challenge but not in Turkey, a country were hospitality is the way of living. One shy question to a waiter arranging the chairs in a restaurant and the door opened for me and soon the food was served and the wifi turned on. I left a big tip and multiple thank you.
Now getting rid of my luggage for the next hours. The only options I found online were either too far or closed. I got the idea to ask for information a person that could actually offer the solution, a guy in a travel agency. He got the idea and came with the suggestion to store my suitcase for 10$. Problem solved. I was now free as a seagull to wander the city until evening and discover new places or see again my already favourite ones. Some call it most instagrammable spots, I call them simply my beautiful places.
The Old Tram
In Taxim Square there was something I missed on my previous two visits in the city: Nostalgic İstiklal Caddesi Tram, shortly the Old Tram, that brings the mood of the 19th century straingt to 2020. You know it’s coming when the busy street gets empty in the middle. It’s fun to watch people jumping on its back and makes great photos too.
Sultanahmet wonders
The heart of the city and one of the places that I could visit 1000 times and more and love it every time. I took the metro from Taksim to Kabataş and then change the line straight to Sultanahmet, in front of the gorgeous Hagia Sofia.
For the first time, the line to enter inside the famous Blue Mosque was this time doable so I entered inside. Usually it’s a wait of at least 1h and a discouraging line. I walked barefoot on the soft carpet covering the pavement inside the dark interior where high stained-glass windows allowed little light inside, among worshippers whispering the morning prayers.
Ohh the perks of being a morning person, which I will never be! The early hour got me inside a place I first time missed because I didn’t know about it, the second time I confused it with another but the 3rd one was the lucky one for Basilica Cistern, used in the old times to supply water to the Great Palace of Constantinople. Now used for great photos mostly.
As a bonus of the area are the colourful houses a few meters away from the entrance to Basilica Cistern, on Yerebatan street, just in case there is not enough time to go to Balat and Fener, famous for their rainbow like streets.
The Grand Bazaar
Wandering the little streets around the bazar until I find an entrance, playing this search and find game is one of my favourite activities in Istanbul and I do it every time I am in the city.
Getting lost inside it’s the next most favourite. Being one of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 61 streets and more then 4.000 shops spread on an area of 30K m², the place is a labyrinth. It is huge, colourful and vivid. My favourite are the stores with hundreds of Turkish lamps. Enter inside one and feel just as dreamy as in a story from One Thousand and One Nights. Taking photos is forbidden but if you start with a conversation and ask nicely, they will allow it gladly.
The afternoon found me in Eminönü, one of the oldest neighbourhoods of Istanbul which also stands as the city’s crossroads. Probably my favourite area for expressing the very essence of the entire city in one place. A live photo as seen from the Galata Bridge, with its spectacular views to its iconic landmarks: Bosphorus Bridge and the Süleymaniye Mosque, with the boats moving up and down between the docks, the crowds wandering the streets from the Spice Bazar nearby and the seagulls singing their songs over the sea, people, mosques and bridges. An always stop to my favourite baklava place in town, discovered by chance during visit no 2: Acemoglu Baklavari. It’s totally worth risking a diabetes here once you decide how many types of sweets to try (J)
I took my box of treats and devoured them while walking on Galata Bridge, among its tens of fishermen reaching their fishing poles for the catch of the day. This street show is all about life in the old Istanbul, of past, present and future, for a long as the bridge will stand there and the sea beneath it.
Karaköy
Located on the other side of the harbour, this is the place for funky cafes, cocktail bars mix, hipster boutiques, old family-run shops in Ottoman-era buildings tattooed with street art and graffiti, a veritable art gallery in open air. Galata Tower watches over with a restless eye since the 13th century until nowadays.
My hours in Istanbul were blown away in the air by the Bosphorus breeze. Evening came with grey clouds of the forecasted rain for that day. I left the city sinking in a silent blue hour, spreading over the mosques, the bazars, the fishermen on Galata Bridge and all the other favourite places I have there. I wished I had another glass of wine with a view at 360 Istanbul, the bar in Taksim Square. Next time.
My Beautiful Places 