Category Archives: Asia

You Know What Would’ve Been Really Cool? If There’d Been a Miss Universe Contest Circa 1782

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unnamed

Oh Heeeyyyyyyyyy….

Throughout history, women have always had things done to them to make them “beautiful.” Nowadays,  we pluck, wax, shave, inject, and silicon bag ourselves all so we can be pretty. But the saddest part is, due to globalisation, everyone kind of looks the same.

When traveling and visiting historical sites or archaeological digs, you quickly start to realize that that chick to the left in the  Santa suit would’ve been passed over by pretty much every guy on the planet a few hundred years ago. Back in the day, before airplanes and all that, beauty was pretty subjective and every region had it’s own idea of what was hot. Most of which we’d find pretty hideously fascinating today.

Take for example the Mayans. Now they used to think women with flat foreheads, crossed eyes and razor sharp, piranha like teeth were the shizznit. So, according to my guide in Chichicastenanga (Guatemala), when Mayan girls were very young, boards would be tied to their heads with a bead hanging from it (so the eyes would be trained to cross) and their teeth were filed to sharp points to look like Jaws. Don’t even get me started on what their talent would be… I have no clue. But the imagination boggles – biting through trees? Severing chicken heads? Pillaging neighboring Incan villages?

Hello, gorgeous…

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More Fun Facts I Learned While Traversing The World (Part 2)

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Proof that I really am a unicorn as, let's be honest, only unicorns have rainbows emanating from their asses. (Truth number 1: It is really hard to get proof of unicornness. It can really only be done in Iguazu Falls, Brazil).

Proof that I really am a unicorn, as, let’s be honest, only unicorns have rainbows emanating from their asses. (Truth number 1: It is really hard to get proof of unicornness. It can really only be done in Iguazu Falls, Brazil).

More Truths From Around The World, courtesy of yours truly. The Unicorn of Truth Tellers. Heh.

  • In Mali, a muslim country, a woman can bathe by the side of the road in the river topless, but will NEVER show her legs above the ankle. It’s just not done.
  • Communists have a seriously underdeveloped sense of humor. At least in public.
  • For women: If you are looking for a hunky, manly man the place to go is BIAP (Baghdad International Airport), which is full of horny, female-starved Western contractors in the best physical condition of their life. And they will buy coffee.
  • Do NOT go to Africa if you are an albino. You will be sacrificed and possibly eaten.
  • The only times I’ve ever had food poisoning in a third world country was when I ate at five star hotels. Street meat = A ok in my book.
  • Be Careful of the chili in Cincinnati, Ohio. Your stomach may not be able to handle it.
  • What happens when you out-karaoke a North Korean?  I did it once – not pretty! It’s best not to do it Especially if you are in North Korea.
  • Communist regimes – or any dictatorial regime feeling threatened – do not like Facebook or Twitter. So much so, it is almost impossible to log in to those, or any other widely used social site, while in the confines of their borders. Just in case, you know, someone wants to start a revolution.
  • The Mandarin word for “shoe” is the same for “vagina” – so be careful when you say you want to go shoe shopping.
  •  In India, if two dudes are walking down the street holding hands, it means they’re friends NOT lovers.
  • In Japan, women let men get in the elevator first. I KNOW! SO ANNOYING!
  • Despite immense dental care advances throughout the world, the English still have really bad teeth, hence the “British Book Of Smiles”.
  • In England, a “fag” is a cigarette, not a nasty term for a homosexual.
  • Despite any and all stereotypes, most people in every country I have ever been to are really, really lovely. If just give them the chance.
  • NEVER shake hands with your left hand, pretty much anywhere. Especially in India. If someone offers to shake your hand with their left, they are insulting you.

What are some truths you’ve learned? I’d love to add them to my list… and put them in a large soon to be downloadable Book Of Truths (with illustrations!)

Are Americans Really The Worst? Five Other Countries Whose Tourists Make Us Look Good

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We’ve all heard it before. The “Ugly American”; The clueless dingdong who travels other countries doing the following: talking too loud; complaining about everything – especially cigarette smoke and the lack of a decaffeinated coffee; traveling with their own peanut butter to live on lest the local food poison them; wearing funny looking clothes; ignoring the personal space of anyone around them.

Now, in all honesty, some of these stereotypes are true. Take Daddy for example. My old man has a strict summer uniform of ecru Rockport Walkers, long white knee socks, tan pressed khaki short, belted at the waist, a short sleeve button down/golf shirt with a pen in the neck, sunglasses and a sweatband or fishing hat.

IMG_1851

Daddy also has an endearing habit of going to European countries and talking “local like” – for example in Italy, a typical sentence would be, “Excuse-ay me-o, where-o can i get-o some damned pizza?” Or randomly saying things like, “Mamma Mia!” “Mangia, mangia!”

But he means well. He doesn’t complain. Much. There was that time in Italy where, while watching a pigeon defecate down the face of a statue of Mary. “Look at that!” he said. “That damned pigeon just taking a crap all over Mary’s face! Now if these damned Eye-talians had honored my good old American gun permit, I could’ve brought my Walther PPK over here and shot that heretic and we’d be having what they call squab-o for dinner! But nope – over here law abiding citizens can’t own their own damned guns. So the pigeons can just dump anywhere.”

No, my friends, after traveling the world, I have decided we Americans get a bad rap. Especially as there are other countries that deserve so much more vitriol! Find out which ones after the jump:

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The Khe San Slambook

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Khe San Today

Along the old DMZ zone in Vietnam, the war is still being played out, this time between the tourists. The battle is played out in the pages of the Visitors Book at Khe San, the notorious battle site outside of Quang Tri where the Marines were under siege by the North Vietnamese for over four months in 1968 during the Tet Offensive. The government memorial proclaims a victory for the North Vietnamese Army – a notion disputed by Americans. Lying in the back, behind bomb remnants, pictures of Americans “fleeing in fright!” (boarding a carrier during Operation Charlie), and mannequins of VietCong women sewing a flag ala Betsy Ross, is the visitors comment book. Which reads like an international high school slam book:

“Never trust an American – they speak with fork (sic) tongue, Vietnamese, you guys rock!” – Jeff, from “The World.”

[Underneath the previous message]:  “FUCK YOU,” – USA

Let’s be clear. Khe San was a horrific, long battle. And the wounds have yet to heal for many people [From militaryhistory.com: Lasting 77 days, the “siege” of Khe Sanh saw American and South Vietnamese forces suffer 703 killed, 2,642 wounded, and 7 missing. North Vietnamese losses are not known with accuracy but are estimated at between 10,000-15,000 dead and wounded].

It gets worse. For more fighting words and pics of the pages, continue after the jump.

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Lost In Translation: The Best of The Worst Signs In The World

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Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

You have no idea how many times I’ve walked through a random street in some random section of the world and tried to figure out just what the local government is trying to tell me.

Don’t take a picture of rats? [Fine].

Don’t stick your head in the fire? [Yep. Figured that out].

Wild Monkeys may eat my hat? [I didn’t really like it much anyway].

Don’t feed the volcano? [Considering volcanoes historically only eat virgins, I don’t qualify].

You learn so much about a place from its signs. Mali has an AIDS problem; Colombia is more concerned with drugs;  Egypt apparently has a huge sex trafficking issue… and everyone is concerned with where and how you poop.

So, for your viewing pleasure, after the jump I offer some of the best signs I’ve found all over the world…

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The Night of The Tortured Turtles (Or: How To Make Organic Viagra)

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The final concoction: Blood (red) and Bile (green) mixed with 120 proof liquor.

The final concoction: Blood (red) and Bile (green) mixed with 120 proof liquor.

During my trip to Hanoi, I got along so well with my guide Lan and my driver Thang that they invited me to Thang’s anniversary – and I (obviously) said HELL YES! I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Okay, these are the guys who took me to a brothel and introduced me to the hangover cure, so maybe I had a small clue, but damn, was I not ready for this mixology lesson.

The party was at a multi-floor restaurant 20 minutes away from my Hotel. It was the same crowd as the day before – except this time everyone brought their wives and children. The main entertainment was the torture of the turtles.  Two restaurant employees brought out a bucket of the doomed reptiles. While one held the wriggling body, the other employee took out a sharp menacing knife, grabbed the turtles’ heads and slit their necks – collecting the blood in a large glass while the dying turtle gave me the hairy eye ball [ed note: can’t say I blame him, but what was I gonna do?]. Minutes later a waitress took a hypodermic needle and extracted all the green bile-y goodness from the dying reptiles’ gall bladders. It was like watching the Coconut Tree Prison display come to life, with reptile stand ins for the mannequins.

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Deep Thoughts: How To Travel Anywhere And Not Get Killed or Maimed.

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I love a bodyguard

Yes, I know how to work that.

I’ve been known to travel to  places that some people [ed note: 99 percent] think are dodgy. I went to Iraq in 2011, was at the Essakane Music Festival outside of Timbuktu in 2013 (in my defense, Bono was there too), and hung out with a few “former” cocaine dealers in Colombia.

At this point my family has given up. Daddy (a right-wing, born again Tea Partier), now just shrugs and says, “God Bless and Hallelujah – I’ll call the prayer group.” Mom (a left-wing liberal Jew) just says, “Ah shit. Fine. Whatever.”
Over the years, I have developed a system that works for me in almost every country. Oddly enough, I’ve found people should be even more vigilant in “normal” places, because your guard is down – you just expect everything to be super fine and fun and cool – whereas in say, Cairo or Kirkuk, you are vigilant.
So, I present a by-no-means-cohesive list of How To Stay Safe. Or Alternatively, Paula Froelich’s Paranoid Guide To Travel.

The Dark Side of Phu Quoc : The Idyllic Island That Comes With Torture Instructions

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IMG_3845Subtlety just seems to confuse people and so the Vietnamese government has good-naturedly sought to make its war homages as literal and interactive as possible with the use of life-sized mannequins, no matter how dull or inappropriate the theme may be. They are placed in mundane situations, like the ones chilling on hammocks at Cu Chi, or the UN inspector models at the DMZ line which are being served tea by a gorgeous little Vietnamese paper mache model. And then there are those placed in situations that are just… unfortunate. Like the re-enactment of the My Lai massacre – where American GI’s are frozen in place, forever terrifying women and children – or the torture scenes at the little known, un-publicized prison museum on Phu Quoc Island.

Phu Quoc is a tiny, idyllic island at the very southern tip of Vietnam that takes about three hours to traverse over dirt roads. An airport was installed about two years ago, roughly the same time a small patch of road on the West Side of the island was paved and resorts were built, including the exclusive La Veranda, where honeymooning couples go to snuggle on the beach and get their tan on. The hotel’s brochure lists activities to do on the island, like “snorkeling, reef diving, waterfalls, hiking in virgin forests, shopping at the market…” at the very bottom of the list, on the back page is “Coconut Tree Prison.” Located at the far end of the island, the prison is not a very popular destination for La Veranda guests – the hotel employees gave me a strange look when I told them where I wanted to go and it cost me a whopping forty dollars for someone to take me there.

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The Only Hangover Cure That Has Ever Worked: The Vietnamese Alka Seltzer. You’re Welcome.

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No, it's not a condom. It's the best damn hangover cure in the universe.

No, it’s not a condom. It’s the best damn hangover cure in the universe.

In my past life I went out for a living – as in out. Every night. All night. While it was fun and all, the mornings were not. Thus, about ten years ago, I started the quest to find the ultimate hangover cure. I worked at a company with many Australians who naturally suggested Berocca. Which, frankly, sucked. As in – didn’t work. Here’s a list of what else I’ve tried over the years which didn’t work:

  • A variety of “organic” hangover cure pills which vitamin companies tried to shill every year.
  • Alka Seltzer before going to bed and in the morning (okay, fine… it made me feel marginally better).
  • The hair of the dog (not to be done if you have to be at work the next day).
  • Greasy ham and egg sandwich followed by a V-8 and half a bottle of Visine (in the eyes, not the mouth).
  • Drinking a gallon of water before going to bed (which results in five trips to the bathroom that night, thus ensuring a fully interrupted sleep).

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Ho Chi Minh’s Tomb: So Strict Yet So Chic.

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Chilling with my pal Theano outside of Uncle Ho's tomb

Chilling with my pal Theano outside of Uncle Ho’s tomb

The Vietnamese do not fuck around when it comes to their beloved Ho Chi Minh. The line to see the Dear Leader’s body lying in state in a glass coffin inside his tomb is almost always a mile long, but it moves at a pretty good clip despite the many checkpoints. As I waited, a woman in a long navy blue uniform and a severe bob observed visitors through a glinty, eagle eye. I passed muster. The French woman behind me wearing a skirt that fell just above her knee did not.

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