Today is Christmas … and I’m knee-deep in sunshine. The complete opposite of what I am used to having grown up in the sometimes blustery and freezing Maryland. In fact, even when I was living in Las Vegas, there were times during the winter when a thick coat was necessary.
Well, that is most definitely not the case in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
The sun is shining. Flowers are blooming. The skies are bright blue. Yeah … it’s pretty amazing … and it feels nothing like winter.
Today’s Daily Wanderlust is a reminder of what I could be having … if I lived in a place where winter existed.
Remember the epic winter storm that shut down the Mid-Atlantic region back in 2010 and dumped feet and feet of snow? I do! It looked like this.
And … HAPPY HOLIDAYS! If you celebrate Christmas, I hope it is a white one!
One of the first sights after emerging from the Madrid Metro into the heart of the city is the Tio Pepe sign in Puerta del Sol. Perched atop the city’s City Hall, the famous sign has stood since 1936.
Sadly, this past summer the historic sign was taken down to make way for a new Apple store in Madrid.
I’m so glad I was able to spend time in one of my favorite cities (and one I would be happy to call “home“) in the world and was able to see the larger-than-life Tio Pepe before it was removed.
Beyond, way beyond, the traffic of Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and on the border of Vietnam and Laos, is the Ratanakiri Province. Here, paved roads give way to dusty, rust-colored dirt paths, and wooden homes perched on knobby stilts are the norm. One of the least developed places in the country, the people here are a minority, the Khmer Loeu, with a history of slavery.
This area is home to numerous small villages, well off the beaten path, packed with some of the most beautiful children I have ever seen. Unlike the children I met in Nkombo, Rwanda, these children come close to us. They smile with us. They don’t speak a word of English, but it doesn’t matter. We communicate with giggles, photos and play.
There’s much more to come on my visit to this region, but here is a little start …
My days at Elephant Nature Park consist of a lot of animal time. When Navann, the park’s new baby, was born on Oct. 28, it thrilled me to no end.
I get to spend time with a baby elephant!
And, while I don’t get to see him too often, the times I do are pure delight.
Yesterday, I spent a few minutes with him and his mom, Sri Prae, as he enjoyed a little interaction. But, my favorite moment wasn’t when he was head-butting me, but when he and mom took a moment to show their love to each other.
Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from Ian at BorderlessTravel.com
Escaping the city for lush green forests, temples, and hiking is surprisingly easy for people living or visiting Tokyo. Located on the outskirts of Tokyo’s bustling metropolis sits mount Takao, a natural recreation area providing an excellent escape for nature lovers.
View of the mountains surrounding Mount Takao – Tokyo, Japan
Sushi, shopping and sightseeing are what most people think about when Tokyo comes to mind. With trains packed like sardine cans ready to explode or the infamous Shibuya crossing, arguably the busiest intersection in the world, it’s a wonder that there’s any nature at all. Yet, less than an hour from downtown Tokyo the urban sprawl turns into beautiful hiking trails.
People lining up to pray at Yakouin Temple – Tokyo, Japan
I joined my friend Adrian for a weekend visit to Takaosan in mid-November during Koyo (the changing of autumn leaves). Not surprisingly it was quite busy, especially compared to the Southern Ontario hiking I was used to. This is because weekends are the most popular time to visit Takaosan and seeing the autumn leaved draws thousands of visitors during the fall season.
People lining up to use the cable car on Mount Takao – Tokyo, Japan
The hike to the summit is a leisurely walk along paved and stone walking paths. There is also a cable car that takes you up the mountain, however during the busy times the line ups can be quite long. Near the summit lies Yakuoin temple where visitors come to pray. It’s an attractive temple with lots of great photo opportunities and from the top you can get a great view of Tokyo as it stretches to the horizon.
View of Tokyo from the summit of Mount Takao – Tokyo, Japan
During the week mount Takao and its surrounding hiking trails aren’t very busy and most people summit Takao by either walking or taking the cable car. To escape the crowds you can always hike past Takao by following the hiking trails to its neighbouring mountains. And if you arrive during the busy time don’t be discouraged, it is Tokyo after all and crowds are just part of the Japanese experience.
Read more about Ian’s travels in Japan and around the world here.
Getting There: The best way to get to Takaosan is using the Keio line from Shinjuku station to Takaosanguchi Station. The ride should take 50 minutes and cost 370 yen (as of 2012) and departs from Shinjuku station every 20min.
I remember the scene from “Stand By Me” so vividly. My childhood crush, Wil Wheaton, is stomach-deep in water and emerges with big, fat, juicy, blood-filled leeches on his skinny frame. Frantic, he and his cohorts rush to pull the vampire insects from their bodies. Then, the worst possible thing happens: there is a leech. In that private spot no one EVER wants to have violated by said grossness. Cue faint.
Yeah, that is the only memory I have from the movie.
I think it is pretty easy to say the leeches made quite the impression on my young, easily-influenced brain.
So, when we go to Sri Lanka for a little elephant/human conflict exploration and monks whisk us from Colombo to land owned by one of the largest temples in the country, I am delighted. We pile into 4x4s with them so they can guide us on a tour of the mountainous region, namely the highest peak in the area. We hit switck-back after switch-back, wind whipping in our faces as we go (a little bit too fast) around the sharp curves.
Then, it happens.
Photo courtesy Flickr Creative Commons: Daecon
We get stuck going up a mud road en route to the peak. For about 10 minutes, we reverse, shift into drive, reverse, shift into drive, simply spraying a layer of thick brown dirt onto the truck, and sometimes coming dangerously close to ending up off of the mud road and into the thicket of jungle.
When we are directed to exit the vehicle, I don’t think twice about stepping out of the safe confines of our ride and out onto the floor of the jungle.
That is … until my boss spins me into a panic.
“Oh, Diana. Leeches. Leeches.”
Hello, “Stand By Me.”
I immediately drop my gaze to the ground. No puddles. Just dirt and fallen leaves.
“Where? Where?” I ask, frantic. I see nothing.
“On you! On your legs!”
My world nearly goes black as I think back to poor Wil Wheaton and his unfortunately placed invader.
“Oh my god! Get! It! Off!” I scream.
My boss laughs at my Western Freak Out and without hesitation plucks the tiniest brown worm from my black pant leg.
“I thought they only live in water,” I explain, trying to calm myself down … to convince myself perhaps she is wrong, and these aren’t leeches, but adorable little brown worms who simply want to hang out on my leg.
“Noooo, Diana. Leeches.”
“But … why …” I stammer, my brain working overtime to come to terms with the difference between Sri Lankan leeches and the leeches in Hollywood.
And, that is when things go to insect hell.
Suddenly, everyone is squealing and jumping. Leeches are everywhere.
I don’t want to move. I don’t want to do anything but get back into the safe, leech-free confines of our truck. But, that isn’t happening. Instead, our group of 10, including two monks, has to hike it back down the mountain.
Through the land of these grotesque things.
“I don’t understand,” I keep saying, kind of like the way a cat purrs to calm itself down. “I don’t even see them.”
“They are everywhere!” My boss says as we begin to wind our way down, down, down the mountain.
Every few feet, I spy the jerks climbing up my legs. Then, I feel it. A tiny, sting-like thing piercing the top of my ankle.
Oh my god. I’ve been leeched.
I stop on the path — in the heart of leech territory — and pull up my pant leg. There the little asshole is. Ugly brown against my white sock. My fingers fly to my ankle and pluck it off, instantly causing crimson blood to seep through the fabric.
“I’ve been bitten!” I laugh-scream.
I mean … really? Me and leeches? In Sri Lanka? Come on.
Then, I start to notice leeches all over me. Crawling under my socks. Crawling up my legs. Crawling into the lacings of my hiking shoes.
Then, the laugh turns into sheer terror.
“They’re everywhere!”
My boss laughs again at my panic, which immediately reminds me of the ridiculousness my Drama Queen antics.
“Be careful … Diana … they like to crawl into your belly button.”
Oh, for fucks sake.
I hate belly buttons. Despise them. They freak the crap out of me like no other. About 10 years ago, a popular jeans company did a commercial with belly buttons singing “I’m Coming Out.” I could barely watch a snippet of it without being sickened. And now? Leeches setting up shop in my belly button?
I will either puke or faint. Or possibly both.
I’m pretty sure my face goes nearly ghost white.
“They’re everywhere,” I repeat, coming to terms with the fact.
This time, one of the monk stops and comes to my aid. In his bright orange robe, he bends down and begins removing them from my shoes as I tear them off of my skin.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I repeat, knowing damn well he shouldn’t even be touching me, let alone grabbing them off of my feet.
“Do it like this,” my boss says, beginning to march down the dirt path. Knee-to-chest, knee-to-chest. “They won’t get you like this.”
So, I begin to do the same. Then, I begin to actually see them on the path. It’s as if they can sense my footsteps. Like little mini “Tremor” worms. They stick straight up in the air, then jump. Yes, jump, onto the body.
We continue down the path and every few minutes someone else shrieks at discovering a leech on their body. Finally, we make it to stone steps, and about 30 minutes later, we make it down to our meeting point where we are once again loaded into trucks and brought back down the mountain.
I emerge from the truck blessedly leech-free. And ready to get on with the Sri Lankan adventure … so long as there will be no more leech encounters.
Right now, Samabe Resort isn’t quite there — it’s wrapping construction with an opening set for early 2013. But, even as we walk through the white sand and the still-under-construction villas and suites, I can tell one thing: this resort is going to give all of the others on this part of the exotic island a run for its money.
Perched high on a cliff, when Samabe Resort opens, the five-star resort will epitomize luxury.
It’s easy to imagine sitting on this villa’s terrace at twilight. Photo courtesy Samabe Resort.
I’m not kidding.
Think personal butlers, private pools for each villa, complimentary spa treatments, yoga, organic meals, a daily cocktail hour (which I can envision being a highlight for me) and more. All-inclusive.
A birds-eye-view of Samabe Resort. Rendering courtesy Samabe Resort.
Spread across 16 luscious acres of tropical land, Samabe Resort will offer 35 free-standing villas and 39 suites — one and two bedroom villas and suites — plus seven penthouse villas and the Royal Samabe Residence, essentially a two-bedroom home with infinity pool. Each and every one offering unobstructed ocean views.
The sales manager weaves Daniel and I through the grounds and buildings, explaining the little details, like the bamboo thatched roofing which will have to be replaced regularly, but a “must” in order to echo the Balinese architecture the resort prides itself on presenting. Each room is decorated with culture in mind, tapping in to woods, colors, accents and more, giving guests more than just a typical hotel room.
A villa bedroom. Ahhh. Photo courtesy Samabe Resort.
We step into one of the suites, a gorgeous expanse of room with doors opening out onto a large balcony with a stunning view of the blue-green Indian Ocean. We’re high up, and looking down, down, down I immediately lust for the room to be complete and to be sitting out here on plush patio furniture, sipping a glass of champagne.
A suite bedroom at Samabe Resort. Photo courtesy Samabe Resort.
It’s that gorgeous.
At one point, standing on the balcony and letting the hot air gently tousle my hair, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to stay in the finished product. Only one word comes to mind — heaven.
The view from said suite.
Editor’s Note: My time in Bali was courtesy of Grand Mirage Resort, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.
It’s a long, mountain-framed drive to arrive at the ghost town of Nelson, Nevada, just outside of Las Vegas.
This tiny, dusty town is about a 40 minute drive from the sensory-overload of Sin City, and a gorgeous spot to simply breathe in the fresh air and spy relics from a bygone era when mining lined the pockets of the town’s inhabitants and lawlessness was the name of the game (thanks to deserters from both the Union and Confederate armies heading there during the Civil War).
A visit to the ghost town of Nelson yields a serious step back in time, with a super pop of color along with an over-sized smattering of knick-knacks which give this spot old school flavor …
While you can’t get into some of the buildings anymore — it’s not like they do inspections on these bad boys — you can explore the grounds of the area, which is intersected by the two-lane road which leads visitors down towards the Colorado River in Eldorado Canyon.
Be sure to take the time to investigate the little details of Nelson, which make the area so special.
The main building in the small area is filled with tokens from a the past …
Like weathered license plates …
Remember the old marketing logos for soda? If not, Nelson does a great job reminding visitors. Nearly every area includes some sort of Coca-Cola or other soda memory.
Founded back in 1775 by the Spaniards, the town became popular thanks to the discovery of gold deep in the Eldorado Canyon, which led to the creation of Techatticup Mine.
Today, visitors to the area can take a tour of the historic mine and learn more about the history of Nelson.
Antique car-lovers weren’t left out either. There are plenty of old rides forever remaining here.
According to the US Census of 2010, there are a mere 37 people who call Nelson (also known as Eldorado) “home.”
Tip: Skip the crowds and head up during that gorgeous golden light, just before the sun sets. Then, stick around to the delicious pinks and purples the surrounding peaks turn when the sun dips below the horizon.
Plus, with the stunning backdrop of the mountains which give way to the Colorado River, it is impossible not to get some fantastic photos.
Bonus tip: Don’t miss the antique war plane nose-deep in a sandy mountain. To get there, head past the airstream trailer near the parking lot and turn the corner around the barren rock/hill/mountain-type natural object.
Getting there: From Las Vegas, take I-15 South to 215 East. Then, merge onto 95 South. Stay on 95 towards Boulder City, then follow signs to 95 South (if you hit US 93 or Boulder City, you’ve gone too far). Take 95 towards Searchlight, then turn left onto State Route 165. Follow it around the mountains and you will hit this little gem. Take note: fill up on gas before you leave town. Otherwise, you may become a relic in the old ghost town yourself.
Sticking around the region for awhile and want more ghost town action? There’s also Bonnie Springs, another Las Vegas attraction, or head to California and check out the high desert Pioneertown. It’s kitschy but fun!
I’m sitting in the kitchen of the house where I grew up. Around me, I can hear the happy chatter of my mom, dad and brother. I hear the jingle of metal from the tag on Barkley, our old and gorgeous springer spaniel’s collar. I look outside at the naked trees against the bright blue sky.
I’m home. And so grateful to be here, in this beautiful moment.
Only, this isn’t my home anymore. In fact, my home is thousands and thousands of miles away. On the other side of the world, actually.
This Thanksgiving is the last one at my childhood home. It is the last Thanksgiving in Maryland. Next year, my house will be in Delaware. In rooms with no history. No ghosts of my former self to wrap their arms around my memories. This Thanksgiving is also the last with Barkley. He’s been around since 1998. Truthfully, I never expected him to last this long. He’s a good boy, and I know his next life will be even more awesome than this one.
It’s all so hard to comprehend. At times it feels as if the life I have in Chiang Mai is this sweet, sweet dream and any moment I will be awakened and back in America, going through the mundane motions of my previous life. I have two very different realities — my American and my Thai — and sometimes they are hard to separate.
I miss my family when I’m not around them. But, I don’t miss my old life. At all.
My life has changed so much in the past year. From working as the director of communications for a Las Vegas restaurant group to coping with major depression to quitting said job, to uprooting my life and heading to the jungle in Thailand to be an expat. It’s been a wild ride and I am so thankful for every single moment.
Not every moment has been easy. There were times when I doubted myself. Times when I missed home and realized that being an expat wasn’t what I thought it would be. But, for the most part, life has been a dream.
So, this Thanksgiving, I want to give thanks to the people in my life. The readers of d travels ’round. You’ve been on quite the journey with me this past year. And, I want to give thanks to the people who have supported me: my family, my friends, the amazing Lek Chailert and the entire staff at Save Elephant Foundation.
I want to give thanks to that damn rooster that caws every morning just before sunrise. And to the tuk tuks that putter down the street in the middle of the night and tell me my baht isn’t enough for the quick ride to my apartment. And to my amazing friends in Chiang Mai who keep me company on those humid nights at old wooden picnic tables and make me laugh. I want to give thanks to the animals — especially Mr. Lucky and my favorite elephants, Medo and Navann. Life is even more fulfilling when there are animals to love, who love you back (even if Mr. Lucky likes to clench my nose between his sharp little teeth).
Finally, I’d like to give thanks to my parents. I know my decision to live abroad isn’t easy. And, Thailand is not close. But, they have always loved me and supported me and encouraged me to follow my dreams.
At the end of the day, I know this one truth above all else: I am incredibly lucky. And, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night knowing this truth.
Oh, America. It’s been four months since I’ve been in this great country of mine. Two weeks ago, I made the long-haul trip from Chiang Mai back to America. It was exhausting. It was long. Damn. It. Was. Long.
But, on the other side of the world, there were friends and family waiting for me.
And, gorgeous views like this en route to my old life. I almost missed this shot, thanks to being so exhausted from not sleeping the night before at the airport. But, some little thing in my head woke me up and enticed me to open my airplane shade to gaze outside.
There’s something about looking out over the world from miles above. It’s spectacular. It’s breathtaking. It is a reminder of how teeny tiny we are, and how vast and stunning this world truly is.
In this moment, when we were flying above the Pacific and Japan, I felt so thankful, not only for the love and hugs awaiting me in America, but for being given the gift of this moment from the seat in the airplane, and reminded how beautiful the world is.
D Travels 'Round 