Tag: Vacations

We took our second R&R to visit Malaysia and Singapore. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough time to visit any place in Malaysia outside of Kuala Lumpur, but maybe we’ll have an opportunity in the future.
I last visited KL in 2001. It’s quite a different place today. There are so many more high-rises and in every direction you look something is under construction. Like Thailand, Malaysia is a newly industrialized country, and it’s on the fast track to becoming a fully “developed nation” very soon.
First, a bit of history, because that’s my thing…
The Malay peninsula sits next to a pretty important sea lane, so it’s been hot property for centuries. It has been exposed to foreign trade and cultures, and a variety of religions held sway for various periods of time. Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism dominated for awhile, but Islam took hold around the 14th century. Today, Islam is the official religion of Malaysia, though the country is fairly multicultural, so only around 60% of its citizens actually practice Islam.

During the colonial era, Malaysia was claimed first by the Portuguese in 1511, then the Dutch in 1641, and then, in 1824, the Anglo-Dutch Treaty divvied up the “Spice Islands,” giving Malaysia to the British (“British Malaya”) and giving what is now Indonesia to the Dutch. Singapore was founded by the British as a trade colony a few years earlier, in 1819. During WWII, Japan invaded the peninsula and occupied Malaya and Singapore from 1942 till 1945.
Like so many of Britain’s colonies after the war, Malaya decided that it wanted independence. However, this was a complicated matter due to ethnic tensions within the colony. The British had brought Chinese and Indian laborers into Malaya over the previous century, and they wanted equal status to ethnic Malays in the new state. To further complicate the issue, the (Chinese) Malaysian Communist Party – which was a key player in the anti-Japanese resistance force (read: well-armed veterans) – decided to begin guerrilla operations against the British to force them out. In response, the British government began the “Malayan Emergency,” a counter-insurgency campaign that lasted from 1948 to 1960. Ultimately, the British claimed success, although their granting independence to Malaya in 1957 was the Communist Party goal all along.
In 1963, the colonies of Singapore, Sarawak, and North Borneo joined the independent Federation of Malaya to create the new country of Malaysia. But the state of Singapore, with its majority ethnic Chinese population, had too many disagreements with the federal government and race riots broke out between Chinese and Malay citizens in Singapore. Finally, in 1965, Malaysia booted Singapore from the federation and Singapore became fully independent as the Republic of Singapore.

My previous memories of KL include: a cheap hostel/hotel with a mint green wall that exactly matched Jen’s favorite shirt; a community bathroom with too small doors; a guy walking down the street with a plastic machine gun making shooting noises at people; a lot of walking; walking through a crazy heavy tropical downpour; a massive bird park; delicious Malaysian curries; and shop keepers asking if we were locals because we wore conservative clothes.
This time, my memories include: a couple super swanky malls with nothing I’d want to buy; a big Daiso; so many young, stylish people; Indian taxi drivers; a sketchy bird park; delicious foreign foods; fish foot cleaners; and Aaron’s crazy shirts.
I didn’t realize when I booked our hotel that we were right in the middle of the fancy, new part of town (or at least one of the fancy new parts of town). So many high-rises, many of which were under construction, and right across the street was a huge mall.

We ventured into the mall, not knowing what it was, because Google maps promised a lot of non-Korean food. (I love Korean food, but as an American I’m accustomed to variety.) It turned out to be an always-crowded, very high-end kind of mall (i.e., the kind of mall I do not understand), and in the central rotunda a Chinese fashion show was in progress, which was admittedly interesting to watch.

We tried a few restaurants in the mall. The Indian place was disappointing. The Middle Eastern place was amazing (and packed with Middle Easterners). The American burger place was not the best. The local Starbucks didn’t have chai. I feel like we also ate at a Japanese curry place, but honestly it’s a blur.
The one interesting part of the mall was “Tokyo Street” – an attempt at recreating a Japanese marketplace (or at least what people running a high-end mall would think a Japanese marketplace should look like). At the back of the street was a large Daiso, Japan’s dollar store. I love Daiso. So much fabulous and super cheap randomness, from Aaron’s specifically-sized drill bits to those little dolls that waggle in the sun to every size of Ziploc-esque plastic bag you can imagine to kawaii stickers for the kids to adorable chopsticks and sauce bowls. There’s stuff you don’t know you need, until you see it at Daiso and say, “Oh, my gosh! I’ve been wanting an egg mold!”

The next day, we visited Petronas Twin Towers. The 88-floor towers were the tallest buildings in the world when they were built in the late 90’s, and I believe they are still the largest twin towers in the world today. I remember, when Jen and I visited in 2001, standing on an elevated train station platform and looking across the city toward the twin towers. At the time, they seemed so huge and so lonely, standing above a not-yet fully developed, ex-colonial city. Today, they fit right in with other massive skyscrapers all over the place. In fact, a 77-story building is going in right next door.

At the base of the towers is Suria KLCC, another overpriced mall. Fitting with the theme is overpriced admission for the skybridge – a walkway that connects the two towers at the 41st and 42nd floors. Jen and I skipped the towers on our visit, but maybe we shouldn’t have; admission was free back then. Now I refuse to pay $20 per person for the privilege of having an acrophobic panic attack in a metal tube that’s not even going to take me anywhere. Instead, we wandered into the park out back, purported to hold one of the world’s largest outdoor playgrounds. The kids were pretty excited until we got there. It was… okay. Hot. Muggy. No drinking fountains. We didn’t stay long.

On day 3 we were off to the KL Bird Park. It claims to be the largest open-air aviary in the world. In my memories, Jen and I walked among peacocks and crested pigeons, while tropical birds flew around and trees poked through the netting dozens of feet above us. I also remember walking to this place. Retracing that path in a taxi, I have a newfound sense of respect for my old self.
I’m going to pause a moment here, to briefly explain something about my husband. Aaron has a very keen sense of smell and a very keen immune response system. Very keen. He once sniffed a cup of yogurt Connery was eating and correctly determined the boy was sick. In fact, the reason I had him sniff the yogurt was because I thought it might be going bad, which Aaron can also ascertain from a sniff. (Don’t ask my why I was feeding my son questionable yogurt. Life is hard for a new mom.) Anyway, Aaron is my walking germ detector. And when we walked into the bird park and I heard him say, “Uh, oh,” I suspected we might not be staying long.

The place was sketchy as Hades. Bird crap everywhere. Broken paths and fences. Wounded and dead birds lying on the sidewalks. I texted Jen as we were walking around to ask if it was this bad when we visited, and she recalled it being pretty questionable.

Since we already paid the entrance fee, we decided to at least take a quick walk around the park. Near the back of the park, descending from a small hill, I noticed some construction work being done along the side of the pathway. Just when I was wondering what that odd powder covering the bricks was, I heard Aaron say, “It’s poison! RUN!”
Without asking any follow-up questions, I grabbed the kids’ hands and started running down the path. “Go, kids! Go!!”
“Why are we running?” yelled Lena.
“It’s dangerous!” I said, still running.
When we were finally a safe distance away from the offending powder, I asked Aaron what it was.
“Huh? What powder?”
“The white stuff.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The poison.”
“Not poison, really. The water. That waterfall thing back there pouring water into this pond. It was covered with some kind of red scum bacteria and my immune system went crazy!”
“…”
Needless to say, we didn’t stay much longer. Aaron’s immune system insisted that we leave asap, so we power-walked our way to the exit and that was that.

From there, we went to the Central Market. Originally built in 1888, but remodeled to its current size in 1933, the market was saved from development demolition by the Malaysian Heritage Society. (Thank you, Heritage Society!) It’s a charming old building with many original Art Deco elements still in tact. Shop wares ranged from your standard touristy trinkets to fancy Indian rugs to Malaysian batik. We had some delicious teh tarik and nibblies at an adorable cafe, watched Aaron giggle like a madman at the Toothless Carp foot cleaning pool, bought some batik clothes for the kids, and bought some surprisingly daring (for an engineer) shirts for Aaron.

I would have liked to have more time to explore areas outside Kuala Lumpur. When Jen and I last visited, we stayed at some pretty fun little guesthouses in the smaller towns, and took a two hour (motorized) canoe ride into the rainforest where we hiked with leeches and swam through guano in bat caves. Good times. I hesitate to try that now, seeing as how my son throws up if you try to feed him ice cream that isn’t pink. I’ll wait till they’re a bit more adventuresome to do the guano cave thing.
I was hoping at least to travel from KL to Singapore the same way Jen and I traveled from Singapore to KL back in the day: the overnight train. My kids would have loved it. Unfortunately, a train no longer runs directly between the two cities. When Jen and I did it, we got on the train in Singapore at the lovely old Art Deco colonial Tanjong Pagar train station (ca 1923). From there, we went straight up to the Kuala Lumpur train station (ca 1910), an equally gorgeous Neo-Moorish colonial building. Sadly, both of these stations have closed since then. We drove past the KL station; it looks as if it’s falling into disrepair and I don’t know if there are any plans for it. The Tanjong Pagar station is being reworked into community spaces and a park.

Interestingly, the reason for all this was because the land beneath Tanjong Pagar station, the 16 miles of tracks leading to it, and the land beneath the tracks were technically owned by Keretapi Tanah Melayu (KTM), Malaysia’s railway. It was as if your ex-wife left you the house, but still owned the floor under your dining room table and the path leading from it to the front door. Singapore hated it. The two countries squabbled about this arrangement for decades until finally reaching an agreement in 2010 that turned the land back over to Singapore.*
If you want to take a train from Singapore to KL today, you must first take a taxi all the way to the northern border with Malaysia, take a shuttle train across the Causeway/border, take another taxi to the train station in Johor Bahru, and board there. Then, since Malaysia is in the process of upgrading all their railways, you can only take the train from Johor Bahru to Gemas, where you must switch to a train on the new lines to take you to KL. For us to do all this in reverse, from KL to Singapore, we’d have had to catch the 1:00 am train to make it by nightfall. Plus, it would all cost us a few hundred dollars.
So what do most people do now?
Obviously, they fly. Air Asia is $15 one way and it takes less than an hour.

I noticed something interesting on our flight down to Singapore (note: we didn’t actually fly Air Asia; they don’t exactly have the greatest safety record). Looking out the window, all I could see on the ground for miles and miles and miles were palm oil plantations. I’m not even exaggerating when I say it was nothing but palm oil trees, all packed in neat little rows, from directly beneath us to the horizon.

Palm oil is one of Malaysia’s biggest industries, accounting for 5-6% of GDP. Introduced from West Africa in the late 1890’s, palm oil trees were first commercially cultivated in 1917. In the 1960’s, the government pushed an expansion in palm oil as it tried to diversify from the British colonial industries of tin and rubber. Today, Malaysia is the world’s second biggest producer, just behind Indonesia; the two countries account for 90% of world supply. And demand is expected to continue increasing, because palm oil is cheap, clean enough to be considered for biodiesel, and versatile enough to be used in everything from bread to lipstick to detergent. It is the most produced oil in the world, just ahead of soybean (palm oil trees are 10 times more productive per unit area than soybean). Millions of hectares have been converted to palm oil plantations and hundreds of thousands of Malaysians depend on the industry. Its growth has lifted many Malaysians out of poverty.
But there is a dark side. In converting jungle and forest to plantations, Malaysia (and especially Indonesia**) has decimated its biodiversity, threatening hundreds of thousands of animal species. Orangutan habitat in northern Borneo has been almost completely destroyed. Forest fires set to clear land for plantations in Indonesia have created serious air quality problems throughout the region (fires that spread out of control for months in 2015 created such a severe “haze” that it constituted a major public health crisis throughout all of Southeast Asia and cost Indonesia tens of millions of dollars to mitigate). Indigenous peoples have had land confiscated for plantations. Pesticides and herbicides are polluting water sources. And the palm oil industry is one of the worst in the world for use of slave and child labor.
It looks like things are starting to improve, though, as the government is now tackling these problems and more people and businesses push for sustainably harvested palm oil. Malaysia has also pledged to keep at least 50% of its land covered in native forests (a recent estimate put it at 58% currently). Since they cannot expand their land, plantation owners are seeking new ways to improve the supply that comes from established trees.

Moving on to Singapore…
I might have mentioned this before, but it’s difficult in Asia to find hotel rooms that accommodate 4 people. Most “family” rooms are for 3 people. Some accept babies and little kids for free in existing bedding, but my kids are now ageing out of that demographic. However, this issue occasionally leads me to fun and quirky hotels I might not have noticed otherwise. 
Such was the case with the Hotel Jen Tanglin in Singapore. What a great hotel! It was reasonably priced. Our room had a separate bedroom, a sofa bed, and a small kitchenette with a full-sized fridge they stocked with water and fruit cups. Plus, we paid a bit more to stay on the “club level,” which allowed access to the “club room” that provided a breakfast buffet every morning, afternoon munchies, and 24-hour coffee, tea, drinks, and cookies. The hotel’s pool was, interestingly, on the roof of the mall next door, and it also had a special covered bridge connecting the hotel to that mall. And, most importantly, it was close to the Botanic Gardens.

The Singapore Botanic Gardens is a 158-year-old UNESCO World Heritage Site. Founded in 1859 by an agri-horticultural group, the Gardens had a lasting impact upon Singapore and the region. Its first scientific director, Henry Nicholas Ridley,*** developed the means to harvest latex from rubber trees and also helped establish the rubber tree industry on the Malay Peninsula. The National Orchid Garden, within the Gardens’ grounds, is pretty much top everything when it comes to orchids.

I’ll spare you all the details of our visit. It was beautiful, but hot and exhausting. Having walked about a mile from our hotel to the Gardens, then through the Gardens, by the time we reached the Orchid Garden, I was… well, let’s just say, “a little hot and sweaty.” A far cry, to be sure, from the ladies fresh off the bus tour wearing cocktail dresses and heels. None of their makeup was puddled in sweat pools around their face.

Later that evening, we wanted to visit the Marina for dinner and a view of the Merlion. Unfortunately, we did not realize that Singapore was preparing for its National Day celebrations, and so was staging a National Day practice, which apparently is as fancy and spectacular (and heavily attended) as the actual National Day celebration. We couldn’t get anywhere near the Merlion. We arrived just after the fireworks, so security guards refused to let us even walk toward the water because the massive crowds were surging in our direction. With no other choice, we joined the crowds and walked back along the road we had just come down, until Hangry Meg forced us to stop at that place or that place – any place, it doesn’t matter, just get her some food.
We took the MRT back to the stop closest our hotel, which was sadly not that close. Then we got lost trying to find a taxi (tired kids at 10:30 pm aren’t terribly interested in walking), but there were no taxis to be found, probably due to the celebrations. Finally, we walked into some random hotel lobby, thrust an exhausted and sweaty but still adorable little blue-eyed girl in their faces and said, “Please, sir, may I have a taxi?”
After that, we switched to a hotel down on Sentosa to do some resort-y stuff amongst roaming peacocks and “monkey incursions.” Connery loved the cable cars that take you around Sentosa. LOVED them. He later declared it his favorite part of the trip. 

We took one day to head back into town to visit Little India (I have fond memories of being there with Jen) and to visit the Marina for a harbor cruise and more delicious foreign foods. But other than that we chilled by the kiddie pool slides most of the time, watching the kids run up the rocks and go down the slides over and over and over again. It was definitely easier to do with a piña colada in hand.

Singapore has been pretty well developed for awhile now, so there wasn’t much difference between my last visit and now, except for a few new ostentatious buildings down by the Marina. Oh, and they moved the Merlion to a new location.
So, that was it. If you’re still reading till now: Congratulations! …and thank you. 😊

*The last train out of Singapore was driven by Sultan Ibrahim Iskandar, ruler of Johor, whose great-grandfather, Sultan Ibrahim, opened the Causeway in 1923. In his article, “Why I drove the last train out,” Sultan Ibrahim Iskandar included this paragraph: “Besides trains, I fly jets, helicopters, and I sail my own yacht. I am never a boring person. Everything to me is a challenge. I always like to find something new to do. Every day, I look at the weather and think to myself, what should I do today?” …Seems like a humble dude.
And, yes, Malaysia has sultans. It is a constitutional monarchy; technically, a federation of 13 states with a central government. They have a prime minister and an elected king running the federal government, but most of the states have hereditary monarchs.
**One hundred years ago, 84% of Indonesia’s land was forested. A 2007 report by the U.N. analyzing the rate of deforestation in Indonesia estimated that the country will have cleared 98% of its forests by 2022. In fact, logging and forest burning has made Indonesia the third largest emitter of greenhouse gases, after the U.S. and China. Thankfully, the rate of destruction has slowed in recent years. In 2010, Norway gave Indonesia $1 BILLION to stop deforestation, and Indonesia responded by putting a moratorium on new plantations. The two are working together to combat corruption and to restore Indonesian peatlands. Norway also gave Brazil $1 billion to do something similar in the Amazon, which led to a 75% reduction in deforestation there. Dang, Norway. I’m sure it’s from your oil fund, so it’s all a little ironic, but still… good job.
***I can’t list every awesome thing this guy did, but suffice to say he kicked (science) bootie. By the time he died at 100 years old, he had written over 500 books and papers on biology, botany, and zoology. Plus, he got married for the first time at age 83 and was known as “Mad Ridley” because of his passion for rubber trees.

For the first time in my life, I planned an international trip approximately one week before departure. Since I’m a plan-ahead, be-prepared kind of gal, it was a little nerve-wracking.

However, there is reason for this: Aaron doesn’t have a lot of whole weeks off, and “international trip” over here is kind of like hopping down to Mexico from Phoenix. Well, maybe not that casual, but definitely not as big a deal as it would be coming from the States. Gotta take advantage of it while we can.

The first week in May has three Korean national holidays: Labor Day (1st), Buddha’s Birthday (3rd), and Children’s Day (5th). There’s some debate about making the 2nd and the 4th public holidays also, to give Koreans a “Golden Week” like they have in Japan. (Golden Week in Japan is this same week, but they celebrate three different Japanese holidays, plus Children’s Day.) Originally, we planned to stay home and sightsee around this area, but then Aaron felt we should take advantage of his time off. He really wanted to visit Guam. However, being Golden Week, everything around this region was booked and/or too expensive: Guam, Saipan, Okinawa, Kumamoto, Jeju Island, etc. Then I stumbled across some deals to Bangkok, so… what the heck? Bangkok it is.

I last visited Bangkok in 2001 as part of a larger backpacking trip, and I remember great shopping and great food. There’s wasn’t much else to do, really, unless you were into temples (not my thing), drinking (just one glass, please), backpacker debauchery (no, thanks), prostitutes (nope), or, as my travel buddy Jen noticed on our street one night, “Prostitutes and elephants!” (don’t ask). Due to circumstances, we were stuck in Bangkok for about a month, and we were so bored we took one whole day just to visit every Starbucks in the city (there were about a half-dozen at the time; now there are 8 pages of listings on the starbuckslocations website). Actually, since we forced ourselves to take different forms of transport, from river ferries to tuk tuks to motorcycle taxis, it was a pretty fun day. Plus, we could “reward” our efforts at each Starbucks.

Well, 16 years later, with a husband by my side and kids in tow, it was an entirely different experience.

Great shopping?
“Mom, it’s sooooo hot. I’m tired.”
“I’m sweating, mommy.”
“Where are the toys? I want to see toys. I’m done here. This is boring.”

Great food?
“Eww! What is that??”
“I’m sweating, mommy.”
“I’m not going to try that.”

Alright, then, let’s try a boat ride.
“How much longer do we have to wait?”
“I’m all sweaty, mommy.”
“Is that our boat? … Is that one there our boat? … How about that one? Is that our boat?”

Okay, let’s do some sightseeing. We’ll visit the palace.
“It’s so hot! I need water or I’m going to dieeeeeeee!”
“I’m SWEATING, mommy!”
“This is sooooo boooooring.”

Fine, we’ll just go to the pool.
“Yay! The pool!”
“Yay! The pool!”
“Wait… You forgot my goggles. I can’t swim without my goggles.”

And that was pretty much it.

We stayed in a nice hotel next to the river that had a lovely atmosphere and a couple of nice pools. Since this was supposed to be a more relaxing trip than the Japan schedule-fest, we only planned something every other day, and spent the off days relaxing in our room or by the pool. (This was also to allow me and Connery to recover from our colds.)

Sunday, we took the kids to Chatuchak weekend market, one of the largest outdoor markets in the world. It is a massive labyrinth of tiny stalls that sell… well, just about anything you can think of. Clothes, home goods, art, electronics, pets, food, etc. Is it an item you can exchange for money? Then you probably can find it at Chatuchak.

I have fond memories of Chatuchak from my trip with Jen. We would slowly wander the alleys, exploring the different stalls, browsing piles of silks and scarves, handwoven baskets, cups and teapots, or traditional birdcages, looking for that little diamond in the rough. I bought a beautiful intricately handwoven silk scarf on that trip. I carefully carried it home, draped it over a dresser, and accidentally set it on fire. But the memories are with me, and that’s what’s important.

Chatuchak today is a different place. It’s a bit more polished, more organized, more… hipster, I guess. You can see the cultural influence of development, the internet and globalism. Locals sit around in distressed jeans and tank tops, sipping iced coffee, smart phone in hand, listening to a saxophonist playing jazz at the “café” stall nearby. And not one person tried to rob me (I’m looking at you, dude who thought I couldn’t feel my backpack unzipping 16 years ago).

According to the World Bank, Thailand is one of the great development success stories, and it became an upper-middle income country in 2011. The poverty rate has dropped from 67% to around 10% in the last 30 years. Kids are getting more education. Nearly everybody has health coverage. Young people on the Skytrain wear the same nerdy nyan cat t-shirts and name brand sneakers you see on teenagers in America or Korea.

This seems to be true of Asia as a whole today. It’s undergone a lot of growth and development in the last 20 years. And it’s still growing. Every place we’ve been is covered in construction sites. Plus, the middle class boom in China has sent Chinese tourists all around east and southeast Asia, and unlike European and Australian backpackers, middle class Chinese tourists expect quality. They are not happy to slum in a hovel for $10 a night, no matter how cheap the booze is. And as countries modernize and develop, young adults have more access to the internet, to global awareness and culture. International companies and brands move in. Tech companies move in, bringing jobs and allowing people to join the global conversation. My anthropologist/historian side kind of hates this, because ultimately development means less diversity. But who am I to deny somebody the joys of a smooth iced coffee or the life-changing technology of a smart phone? Who am I to say they should move their goods in tuk tuks rather than air conditioned trucks? Really… it’s an interesting time to be in Asia. Though they seriously need to get some environmental watchdogs with teeth (I’m looking at you, China).

That said, Thailand still has problems. Much of its rural areas are dominated by subsistence agriculture, and millions of people are still vulnerable. Thailand used to be a monarchy. It was never colonized by any Western nations, but after a 1932 revolution, it became a constitutional monarchy. Over the years, the Thai government has had some democratic moments, and a lot more military-quasi-dictatorship-repeals-constitution-after-a-coup moments (they have had SEVERAL constitutions, and the latest was ratified this April). Does anybody remember the political protests and coup that occurred a few years back? It’s all pretty complicated, but let me see if I can sum it up quickly…

Thailand was hit hard by the ’97 Asian financial crisis, and this led to the election of Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. At first, the economy grew and he was popular. Then the 2004 tsunami hurt the economy, and he was less popular. The “Yellow Shirts” started protesting against him. There was a contested election. Then a coup in 2006 while Shinawatra was visiting the U.N. The military leaders allowed an election and a pro-Shinawatra party won in 2007. Then the 2008 U.S. financial crisis happened and the Thai economy fell again. The Yellow Shirts got angry and occupied Government House. A court ousted the Prime Minister and Shinawatra’s brother-in-law became the new Prime Minister. The economy tanked. The Yellow Shirts got really angry and seized Bangkok’s airports. A court ousted the bro-in-law. Opposition party took over and new a protest group, the “Red Shirts,” arrived. In the 2011 election, Shinawatra’s sister became Prime Minister. The Thai flooding of 2011 then 2012 Eurozone crisis pushed the Thai economy to the brink of recession. More protests. A court removed the sister. Then, in 2014, another military coup.

National Council for Peace and Order is a pretty name for a military dictatorship that has squelched and imprisoned politicians, professors, critics, protestors, and the press. Rather than hold an election and return the government quickly, as most of Thailand’s previous military leaders have done, the NCPO is hanging on. Some thought they wanted to remain in power until succession for the country’s ailing king was clarified, but King Bhumibol Adulyadej died last October after serving for over 70 years – making him the world’s longest-reigning monarch – and he was succeeded by his only son, King Maha Vajiralongkorn Bodindradebayavarangkun.

There were many Thai mourners paying their respects at the palace in Bangkok the day we visited. Long lines of people dressed all in black, standing along the road, crammed into tuk tuks and trucks, posing for photos in front of the temple. It was a very warm day, and we were all rather hot in our required modest pants and shoulder-and-cleavage covering shirts, so I could only think how hot they must have been standing around in full length black dresses and suits. But the king was apparently very popular. The new king? Not as much. It will be interesting to see what happens.

To be honest, as a tourist I would never have known about all of their political turmoil had I not remembered the coup and looked up some articles on the subject. The Thai people are as hard working and friendly as I remembered. Many of them are unhappy with the situation, but their protestations (apparently including eating sandwiches and posting images of the Hunger Games’ three-fingered salute) were harshly reprimanded. I hope they can find their way back to freedom, development, and progress soon.

And I hope we can return to enjoy and learn more about Thailand when the kids are a little bit older, a little bit more adventuresome, and a whole lot less whiney.

We returned Sunday night from a trip to Japan for our first R&R. I had an ambitious schedule planned, and we got a lot done in one week. Unfortunately, things didn’t go quite as planned in all areas.
For starters, it was supposed to be 60° and the week of cherry blossoms, but a storm system came through at the last minute so half the week was 40° and rainy. I didn’t really pack for 40° and rainy – though we did grab our umbrellas and some ponchos as we were walking out the door – and I had no idea my tennis shoes were 50% sponge. The cherry blossoms, in their wisdom, were having none of it.
Side note: What the heck is up with the whole poncho thing? I’ve never used ponchos before, and I have to say: what a dumb invention. Raincoat? Yes, please. Umbrella? Handy if you have a backpack to protect. Poncho? No. Just… no. They’re cheap and tear easily, the size is all wrong, you have to take them off anytime you go indoors so the wetness on the outside spreads everywhere making you wet the next time you try to put it on, they blow around in the wind, and you can’t even use your pockets to protect your hands from the cold. They’re just stupid. Did you see those pictures of Bush Jr. fighting with his poncho at inauguration? That was me through half of Disneyland. I will never trust you again, ponchos. NEVER.

We arrived in Tokyo Saturday evening and checked in to a hotel near Tokyo Disneyland. There are actually two Disney parks there: Disneyland and DisneySea. Many people say DisneySea is the best Disney park in the world, but they also say it’s better for older kids, so I went with Disneyland.
Now, for those of you who don’t know, I have a lifelong history with Disneyland. My mother grew up near the original park, so we visited almost every year throughout my childhood. Even though the parks are a bit… different… than they used to be, I still have a nostalgic fondness for Disneyland and was eager to visit the Tokyo version. Aaron, on the other hand, hates anything that stinks of tourist trap, so he generally lacks my desire to pay big money to stand in line.

And were there lines! I didn’t realize until we were actually en route to the park that there is this handy website that tells you how crowded Tokyo Disneyland is expected to be on any given day. And on the day we were there, it was a “people very congested” day, just one level down from the max “people violently crowded” day (I think they slightly underestimate). This was even with the rain. To be honest, I was kind of expecting crowds. Crowds alone, I could handle. But crowds and rain? Icy, frigid rain? With crappy ponchos, soggy shoes, and two kids who had just barely recovered from tonsillitis and ear infections? I’ll pass on that 2 hour wait for Pooh’s Honey Hunt, thanks.

In the end, we only rode a couple rides, but one was the Monsters, Inc. ride, which, along with Pooh’s Honey Hunt, is unique to Tokyo Disneyland. We were able to succeed because the Fastpass line was not terribly long first thing in the morning (Fastpass lines on a busy day at Tokyo Disneyland can be almost as long as ride lines on a slow day, and Fastpasses are usually gone well before noon). Aaron and Lena bailed as soon as we finished Monsters, but Connery wanted to try Star Tours, so he and I stayed in the park a bit longer. I changed to my boots, but should have grabbed a sweater. Even though I was really hoping to see the Light Parade (nostalgia from my past that still exists in Tokyo Disneyland), I finally got too cold and had to call it. Maybe we’ll find a time to return before we leave Korea, if I can pick a day that’s warmer, drier, and just a little less crowded.

The next day, we transferred to a hotel in the city. Our room was not ready yet, so we grabbed some lunch, wandered around the local subway station to get a feel for it, and visited the local 7-11 to buy unnecessary but amusing snacks (egg-flavored mochi, anyone?). That night, we visited what turned out to be one of the best places of our trip: Ninja Akasaka.
Ninja Akasaka is a ninja-themed restaurant. It’s campy, it’s fun, it’s atmospheric, and it’s very, very well done. At the entrance, the host calls a ninja for your “protection.” I was waiting for our ninja to hop out of the wall when instead he dropped from the ceiling and scared the bejeebees out of me. You then follow your ninja protector through dark, small, twisty cave-like hallways. There’s a magic bridge that raises and lowers, a waterfall and pond, dramatic lighting, and eventually a village/ninja hideout full of different rooms for your “ninja training.” It all has a very Indiana Jones vibe. Some dining rooms are in the village “buildings” and some are in caves (this is all indoors, by the way). Our room was a cave. After removing our shoes and coats and getting settled, our ninja trainer/waitress for the evening arrived.
What followed was course after course of beautifully prepared and delicious food, all with ninja themes. There were shuriken-shaped crackers with shuriken-shaped foie gras, a salad with shuriken-shaped veggies and an “egg” made out of herbs, mango, and fish held together in some kind of jelly (the egg itself came in a treasure chest our ninja trainer opened with fire), sushi, steak, Japanese curry, sweet-and-sour pork, and many, many other dishes I can’t remember. At one point, our ninja trainer brought a grapefruit with a sword stuck in it; when Connery pulled out the sword, smoke poured out of the grapefruit (the top of the grapefruit was hollowed out and filled with crab salad). Dessert was equally impressive: a Japanese kabuto (ancient combat helmet) crafted from ice cream, mousse and cookies with the restaurant logo made out of chocolate, and, for Aaron, a bonsai tree made out of wafers and ice cream. The kids got their own special kids’ meal that came with a strawberry ninja for dessert. The strawberry ninja was adorable. So adorable, in fact, that Lena sobbed for a full ten minutes and apologized to the little ninja before eating him.

Midway through our 2+ hour meal, another ninja came in to perform a Ninja Magic Show. It was all simple sleight-of-hand magic tricks, but it completely blew Connery’s mind. He spent the rest of the night talking about what amazing magic that ninja had and how cool the magic ninja was, and wondering how he could get ninja magic. “Do you think I just ask God?” Connery asked. I told him he could try that, but most likely it took years and years of ninja practice. He looked a bit disappointed with that answer.

It was a great evening. The service was fabulous, the décor was amazing, the food was the best we had all week. If you’re ever in Tokyo, I highly recommend it.
Side note: I really struggled with the food during this trip. Maybe we just had bad luck, but I cannot currently say that I’m a fan of Japanese food (miso soup, notwithstanding). The meat was too fatty and undercooked, the veggies were slimy, and too many things tasted like the bottom of a boat. Granted, I hate seafood, so that really didn’t help. But the Ninja place got it right. One of my courses was a black puff filled with whipped soy cream, salmon, and avocados, and even in spite of disliking seafood (and avocados) I would eat that thing anytime.
We spent the next two days in Tokyo visiting a variety of different places: Akihabara to buy robot parts and drink fluffy drinks at a Maid Café; Harajuku to overwhelm the kids at the six-level Kiddyland toy store and to pet bunnies at the Ra.a.g.f Bunny Café; Meiji Shrine to walk through the gardens; Takeshita Street, which was far too packed to eat crepes, and a nearby burrito shop to get our Mexican food fix; and Shibuya to take pics of Hachiko and the scramble at Shibuya crossing (said to be the busiest intersection in the world). Thankfully, the weather cooperated these days and walking around the city enjoying the sun and (relatively) fresh, clean air was lovely.

I asked the kids which part was their favorite, and they both agreed it was the bunny café. The café is located in a small apartment off a backstreet in a trendy neighborhood. There are several cages with a bunny in each, and if you stay for an hour, you get to play with four different bunnies. (Bunnies are maxed at 15 minutes with guests, so as to not make them too stressed or tired.) The kids picked out the bunnies, and each had a very distinct personality. There was Excited-To-Be-Out-of-His-Cage Bunny, I’ll-Do-Anything-For-a-Veggie-Stick Bunny, I-Like-to-Be-Roughed-Up-Masochist Bunny, and Hyper-Horny Bunny. I’ll-Do-Anything-For-a-Veggie-Stick Bunny was the most pet-able bunny, as he would literally crawl all over you to reach that piece of lettuce. You could pet him all day, so long as the snacks kept coming. Despite being impossible to pet, Hyper-Horny Bunny was the most amusing to watch, especially since the kids had no idea why he was doing that to their legs. He even quite literally tried to get into Aaron’s pants, and made it halfway to his knee before Aaron was able to extract him. The kids thought it was hilarious.

On Thursday, we took the “Romancecar” train from Shinjuku to Hakone. The train is not at all romantic, so I’m not sure why they call it that. Hakone is a famous hot-spring town about 90 minutes from Tokyo. It is historic and picturesque and I can understand why it is popular.

Our hotel was a 100-year-old ryokan (traditional Japanese hotel) not far from the center of town. It looked small from the outside, but was a maze of twisting buildings inside. At least a dozen employees greeted us upon arrival, took our luggage and our shoes, fawned over the kids, explained their bath and dinner policy, and then led us through the maze to our room. Our assigned maid, Kouko-san, was very sweet and helpful and would giggle with delight any time we thanked her using her name (do most guests not remember her name? It’s pronounced “Coco,” for goodness’ sake).
The room was fabulous. It was all tatami, bamboo, wood, ornate glass, and sliding paper doors. It had an entry with shelf for slippers, a small room with a wet bar (well, mini-fridge and tea kettle), small toilet room, a dining room with TV, a bedroom with a closet and two large futons prepared, and, down a short staircase, a private hot-spring bath with views of the mountains.

The hotel had a few public baths: two large baths that swap male-use to female-use depending on the time, because one included an outdoor bath (ladies got the one with the outdoor bath during the day; men at night); a smaller, private “family” bath you could use if it was available; and a private bath you had to book upon check-in (I think it was outside?). Several rooms also had private baths attached. I sprung for one of these because Aaron has a tattoo, and is thus forbidden from using the public baths. Regardless, I’m glad we got a private bath, because we could use it whenever we wanted and all go in together as a family. The water came from the hotel’s hot spring and was constantly filling, creating a nice waterfall-type sound in the room.

I’ve determined that you could show up to a ryokan with nothing but your wallet or purse, and still have everything you need for your stay. The hotel provides tea, water, food, all your toiletries, and a yukata to use during your stay. You wear the yukata to and from the baths, in your room, for dinner (whether in your room or a public dining room), and to bed. It looks great, is comfortable, is changed for a clean one daily, and apparently has specific wear rules. We’re tall, so it took Kouko-san a few tries to find us proper sizes such that our calves were completely covered. You must also wear it left-over-right. I took a bunch of adorable pictures with the kids wearing it right-over-left before Aaron informed me I had it wrong (apparently, there was a hidden pocket on the left side).
I’ve also determined that at some point I need to buy Aaron a yukata because dang if he doesn’t look hot in one.

This particular hotel also included breakfast and dinner. A very traditional breakfast and dinner, served by Kouko-san in our room. As I mentioned in my prior rant, I struggled with the food in Japan. Primarily, this is because they just don’t cook their meat enough. Meat is meant to be cooked, people! And just waving it over the flame doesn’t count, either. That being said, I’m glad we got to experience a traditional meal. It was 12 courses, each carefully and artfully prepared. Several parts were delicious (even the fish was quite good, when cooked properly), several were questionable (I’m really glad I didn’t know what that jiggly blob in foul-smelling liquid was), and several were… well, let’s just say not my favorite. Let’s also say that cheap beer helped me get through several courses. By the second night, I completely gave up trying to eat raw fish and squid and just forced them onto Aaron.

Friday was the day we were to tour Hakone. We bought this thing called a Hakone Freepass, which covers transportation to and throughout the region (there is a cluster of hot-spring towns in the area). There is a well-worn “loop” tourists can take: from Hakone-Yumoto (where trains to Tokyo arrive and depart, and where our ryokan was located), you take an old electric train up the mountain to Gora; transfer to a cable car that takes you through Gora and further up Mt. Hakone; transfer to a gondola ropeway that takes you down the north side of the mountain all the way to Lake Ashi (the ropeway is famous for its views of Mt. Fuji); hop on a pirate-ship-themed ferry boat to travel across the length of the lake; and, finally, take a bus back to Hakone-Yumoto.
If you look at a topographical map, you can see that Mt. Hakone is basically an ancient complex volcano and this loop takes you around the (approximate) circumference of its caldera. This explains the presence of so many hot springs in the area. When the weather is cold, you can see steam rising up from crooks and valleys in the mountains.

And, as luck would have it, Friday turned out to be a very cold day. And wet. And, again, very crowded. We packed into the electric train like subway commuters during rush hour. It took about… I don’t know. An hour? It felt like forever to get to Gora, especially since I had by this point developed a nasty cold and felt terrible and the kids, who have the patience of gnats, spent the entire trip whining about not being able to sit or see out the windows (since they were steamed up from all the people on the train).
We reached Gora, and as I watched a throng of people push their way off the tiny electric train and rush toward the equally tiny cable car, I thought, “…This is really stupid.” After apologizing to my husband and kids, I insisted we return to our hotel and spend the rest of the afternoon in the bath. It didn’t take much convincing. We found a place to eat, walked to a garden (as devoid of cherry blossoms as every other garden we visited), then returned to the Gora train station. The train back to Hakone-Yumoto had blissfully few people on it.

The next morning – whether it was the sashimi, the squid, the viscous jelly, the cheap beer, or some combination of these, we don’t know – Aaron was really sick. I’m going to call it food poisoning, for lack of a better description. He spent most of the train ride back to Tokyo hunched over a bag. I gave him some soft croissants I picked up for the kids at 7-11, and they helped him enough to make it through the Shinjuku train station and on to the train for Narita.
We broke up our travel home with an overnight in downtown Narita, at a ryokan overlooking the old temple complex Naritasan. The streets were curved and hilly and lined with beautiful old wooden buildings now full of shops and restaurants. Several shopkeepers were attempting to welcome spring with pots of flowers set along the road.
We arrived just as all the shops were closing, but before most restaurants had opened. Aaron passed out on the floor in pain while I ran to find more bread for him (the best I could do was a loaf of “cheese bread” from a dessert shop – it was full of hard “cheese” chunks, but why didn’t they melt with baking??). This revived him enough to make it through dinner. We went for Italian, as he couldn’t even look at a picture of seafood.
This ryokan was not nearly as fancy as the one in Hakone, but it was traditional and charming. It had shared public baths (that allowed tattoos) that we didn’t realize required bringing your own towel. I noticed this just before dunking, so I parked Lena on a bench in the changing room, threw on my yukata, and stood awkwardly outside the men’s bath calling for Aaron, who had our room key. Finally, some fellow came past and I did my best acting out him calling “Aaron” in the bath. Thankfully, the kind and understanding man knew what I wanted and was very helpful. Towels in hand, I returned to the bath with Lena. We showered, then soaked in the bath for a bit (she liked that it wasn’t as hot as the bath in Hakone). It was late, for Japan (an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kinda country; very different from Korea) – around 8:00 pm – so we had the bath to ourselves. We each got our own futon in this ryokan, but it was far less comfortable than the Hakone ryokan, despite having to “family bed” there. My right hip is literally bruised (still!) from the floor at the Narita ryokan.

Our last morning, we skipped the fish breakfast, per Aaron’s request, and spent about half an hour walking around the grounds of Naritasan. The monks (in very colorful robes) were chanting, turtles were sunning, vendors were selling trinkets at carney booths, tourists were swarming, elderly Japanese ladies were not-so-subtly taking pictures of my daughter, and Aaron was getting bad vibes off the temple’s Niomon gate.

Side note: Not many of you may know this, but Aaron is sensitive to… unclean spirits? Demons? Evil? There have been several times during our marriage where we’ve been in a place that set him off. For example, we were once walking through a hotel decorated with Asian art and artifacts, and as we were happily strolling along and chatting, he suddenly stopped, looked over at one particular statue and said, “I don’t know what that is, but it’s evil.” I walked over to investigate before Aaron unhappily pulled me away: it was a statue of the Hindu god Ganesh, with a sign saying it came from Indonesia and with a tiny pile of flowers left as an offering at its feet. (In some areas of Indonesia, people still worship idols and even have shamans invoke demons into objects in order to increase their power.) For some reason, the Giant Torii gate at Meiji Shrine bothered him, as well as the Niomon gate at Naritasan. The shrine, the temple, the various altars and pagodas – nothing else bothered him. But those gates did. I know torii gates are meant to represent a transition from the profane to the sacred (Shinto shrines are holy/sacred/unearthly ground), and some people literally believe them to be a point of connection between the earthly and spiritual realms, but I don’t know enough about Shintoism to comment beyond that. Niomon gates house the statues of the Buddha’s burly guardians. But, again, I don’t know much about them.

Well, not much to say after that. The hotel refused to help us find a taxi because of a “parade” that I didn’t see, so we wandered the street in desperation before one came along. Made it to the airport, had a short and bumpy flight home (fabulous Korean Air service, as per usual), couldn’t get a hold of the parking facility but managed to spot their shuttle dropping off another family, and then began our 90 minute drive home when, suddenly, we realized something.
There are cherry blossoms everywhere!

Yes, southern Korea is in full bloom this week. They are pink and white and fluffy and oh-so-pretty when they fall off and flutter to the ground like snowflakes. I thankfully did not crash my car while trying to take pictures of the road to E-mart, which runs through a cherry tree tunnel full of blossoms. On the mountain next to Samcheonpo, a few cherry trees are interspersed with the evergreens that cover the hillside, and they stand out like daisies on a lawn. Sooooo pretty.
Overall, it was a good trip to Tokyo, even with the cold rain and sickness. We plan to take several little trips to Japan throughout our time in Asia.
Here are my pros and cons for the week…
PRO: Japan is wonderfully clean; I didn’t fear for my life when crossing a road; Hot springs are one of the best things on this planet; Everybody should adopt yukatas*; Trains rock; Ninjas rock; Bunnies are soft
CON: Japan is a country full of morning people; I felt like a giant**; Too many people in overly small spaces; Too many lines; Food and undercooked meats***; Kanji
*Everybody should also adopt the no-shoes-indoor policy. Korea does this, as well, and I had a no-shoe rule back in Arizona because of my allergies. But, seriously, how gross is it to wear your shoes in your house?? Go look up the study on how much e-coli Americans track into their homes and I can guarantee you’ll consider adopting a similar policy.
**I do not feel especially tall in Korea, at least among the younger generation. Korea has made the greatest height gains of any country in the last 100 years. The difference between the older people today (who grew up during the war or post-war poverty-stricken dictatorships) and young adults (who grew up during Korea’s economic boom) is striking. The cultural difference between the two is striking, as well; it’s almost like two different countries (more on that later). Aaron seems about average for young Korean males and I’m only a few inches taller than most young Korean females – kind of like in the States. But in Japan? I’m HUGE. At one point, we were in a store at Disneyland and I looked up to find Aaron and realized that everybody – men and women – came up to my chin. It was a little less extreme in downtown Tokyo, but I still found it odd to be taller than most of the men around me.
***The first thing I did after returning home to Korea was to go get myself a big bowl of spicy pork bulgogi. I LOVE YOU, KOREA.

We spent 48 hours in Honolulu, to break up our travel to Korea. Our ambitious touring plans quickly gave way to a day at the beach and the pool – a better choice for antsy kids weary from sitting in planes and cars. (Cool as they may be, the battleships must wait for another day.)

I seem to find myself on Oahu about once a decade. My goodness, has that place changed. With each visit there seem to be more high-rises in the city and homes on the hills. Even our hotel – where I stayed in ’92 – is at least twice as large as I remember. It now has not one but TWO Starbucks (were these even a thing in ’92?), along with the ever-important Lappert’s ice cream shop, ABC stores, Whalers, and myriad other shops and overpriced cafes. Good times in a tourist trap. Albeit, a beautiful tourist trap.

The kids played nice in the pool for awhile with an Australian boy. It made me happy to think that this venture will allow them to meet and play with kids from all over the world. I always love to see the little ways in which people the world over are alike. When the Aussie kid ever-so-gently pushed Connery into the water, his mother leapt up to chastise him and apologize. Aaron and I laughed, because all of his friends back home have done this at least once. “We raise ’em rough in Australia,” she sighed. I could well have said the same of Arizona.