We had agreed on 150 rupees, and yet there we were, finally at our accommodation, Shoreline Beach Resort, in Kannur, Kerala, arguing with the rickshaw driver, who now demanded 200 rupees.
He had gotten majorly lost along the way, and we had a feeling he’d up the price.
Once we arrived, he wouldn’t take 150. He started ranting in Malyalam and said something about 170. So we said, “Fine, we’ll give you 170″ just to get him off our backs. Then, the driver all of a sudden wanted 200 for all the gas he spent trying to find the place. It wasn’t our fault he got lost. If he didn’t know the way, he shouldn’t have taken us.
Eaman staunchly refused. The driver threatened to call the police. He kept yelling in Malyalam. Then he got all up in Eaman’s face. He probably would’ve spit in our faces if he didn’t want our money so badly.
The fight became a shouting match — with the driver doing all the shouting — so finally, we paid 180, only because Hamza himself gave us the 20-rupee difference.
And this was our welcome to India’s most laid-back state.
We unfortunately let this scuffle get to us. There was a whole day of feeling blase and a morning of badgering the hotel owner to fix the broken but promised WiFi — something that normally wouldn’t have bothered us. But after cooling down and smelling the sweet coconut air of Kerala, we opened our eyes to what was in front of us: a beautiful (and cheap) beach resort where we were the only guests, with a beautiful ocean view, a deserted beach to stroll down and freshly cooked meals brought to us on our balcony every day. What the hell was wrong with us, worrying about a stupid fight? It was an important reminder not to sweat the small stuff.
During our four days, we did little worth mentioning as far as acitivites go, but for us, nothing was everything. It was an opportunity to see a different side of India, one where crossing the street isn’t a game of Frogger or toilet smells don’t pervade the air. It was also a wonderful way to charge up before heading north to complete our busy Jaipur-Agra-Delhi itinerary, commonly known as the Golden Triangle route.
So what did we really do? Well, we watched ridiculous sunsets and played in the warm ocean water. We saw a theyyam ritual at a local temple and watched fisherman catch a day’s bounty. Oh, and did I mention the sunsets?
Our balcony.
Lunch of fish, veggies, fruit and rice.
Walk through the neighborhood.
I know the thing to do in Kerala is the overnight houseboat on the backwaters, and we had every intention of doing it, but as it turns out, the backyard of our hotel was basically a backwater, so we skipped it to save money and avoid further transportation frustration.
We visited the local temple in town to watch the ancient ritual known as theyyam, a tradition found mostly in northern Kerala. During the performance, a man in an elaborate costume assumes the spirit of god and bestows blessings on those in attendance. As in, people literally go up to him and whisper their wishes into his ear. It was pretty trippy — loud drums, chanting, fire. Good thing there were some lovely, English-speaking locals who explained it to us after.
We got the inside scoop on the best banana chips in town. You can find banana chips in other parts of India, but the Keralan speciality is cooked in coconut oil. Nomnomnom.
Those birds in the sky are actually bald eagles. Dozens of them would migrate from one end of the beach to the other at sunset.
We ended our week in the Thai islands on Koh Tao, a small island on the Gulf side that doles out almost as many SCUBA certifications as dive shops in Cairns, Australia. (That’s a lot.)
I’ve already dived in Australia and Eaman wasn’t super keen, so instead, we spent our time engaged in our favorite beach activity: snorkeling. And Koh Tao’s huge coral beds and teal waters are a perfect place to do it. On a day-long snorkel trip around the islands we saw a reef shark (!), visited a beautiful private island and fed bananas to fish in the water. If you haven’t tried it, it’s an absolute must. The fish ambush every inch of your body and some even nip you for food. It was a very cool, Under-the-Sea moment.
Anyway, like any beach, Koh Tao is best seen through pictures. Oh, and did I mention our hotel — the basic, but very nice Sai Thong Resort on a secluded beach — upgraded us to a seaside bungalow with sea view for free? I know, life is really hard.
Our accommodation had three small beaches, and from one, it was a short swim out to some reef sharks, which almost all the other guests saw at some point. We, of course, never did.
Freaking awesome balcony with hammock and cushions. We fell asleep here one night, and it was the most magical sleep. If it weren’t for mosquitos, Eaman could’ve lived the rest of his life in that hammock.
View from balcony.
Thanks to my cousin, Craig, for giving us his underwater camera. We clearly weren’t that adept at using it though. This was the best pic we got from the snorkeling trip.
Loved the restaurant at the hotel next door. The owner/chef was a really sweet Thai woman who cooked a mean fried chicken and pineapple stir-fry. She even let me hold her pup.
And those sunsets you always hear about? This is 100% un-Photoshopped beauty.
Yesterday, I received some tragic news about a member of my extended family. It was a sobering moment, during which I thought to myself, a post about all the fun and frivolity of my 27th birthday now seems so insignificant. But during a long drive home from our road trip — post on that coming up — I thought about how lucky I am to be living this life. So though I know there are things in life more important than birthday cake, I also know that lives are meant to be cherished. And this particular birthday reinforced just how lucky I am to have special people in my life.
I used to be the girl that sent out her own Evite — remember those? — about celebrating her birthday at some raging Chicago club. Well, gone are those days. It’s a feat to even get me into a club now. These days, I’d much rather spend time with my closest friends over a delicious meal and call it a day.
But I also had a light bulb moment when I realized: I understand celebrating special moments like a wedding or graduation, but why celebrate the day I was born? What kind of accomplishment is that? So I didn’t want to make a big deal of my birthday this year. I mean, I’m living in Hawaii, isn’t that a birthday celebration in and of itself?
Apparently, Eaman had other ideas.
Unbeknownst to me, with help from Pratt and Craig, he had been planning a surprise birthday party for me since mid-March. They hatched a plan to get me ready for an ordinary day at the beach last Saturday, but when we stopped at Pratt’s apartment for a hot second, I got my extraordinary surprise!
I knew Eaman was up to something because he had been texting incessantly as of late — and he hates, I mean, hates texting. But I figured it’d happen this weekend, just a couple days after my actual birthday. I was so caught off guard that when I saw the above “happy birthday” sign hanging in Pratt and Craig’s living room, I even remarked, “Did you guys have a birthday party here recently or something?”
Sharp, I am not.
The surprise involved mango cake (yum!), cookies, a lei, a sick new surf hat c/o Pratt and Craig and tubing out to Popoia a.k.a. Flat Island. We pumped air into nearly a dozen tubes and drove out to Kailua, where we then floated with ease paddled intensely with flip-flops in our hands to get to the limestone rock island.
Thanks to Naomi, who snapped some pictures while we were out on the water:
Eaman and me:
Doug’s a trooper and took the awkward-size pirate ship tube that I was supposed to ride:
Once we got to Flat Island, we walked around to this natural pool, where we drank beer and shivered — it was cloudy and chilly!
Once we got back to Honolulu, we BBQed at P&C’s apartment complex, which was the perfect end to such an outdoorsy day. There are few things finer in life than a nicely charred hot dog eaten in the sea-salted air. All in all though, I was so deeply touched that all these people went out of their way to plan and be a part of a fun day in my name. I’ve planned a few surprises for my friends, and I love that rush of the intrigue and sneaking around, but I also thought to myself, “All this for moi?” It was just so nice. Again, I’m a very lucky girl.
–
For my actual birthday this past Thursday, I was off from work after a string of 6am shifts, so I told Eaman I just wanted to CHILL. That meant brunch at Sweet E’s Cafe…
… beach time at Kaimana…
…pizza at J.J. Dolan’s (awesome pizza can be found in Honolulu!)…
(note the “Joisey, City, NJ” sign)
…and ice cream at Bubbies. Mochi ice cream here:
and brownie a la mode here because I don’t think I’ve had a birthday in the last 7 years where I haven’t had this dessert.
The menu at Bubbies:
But perhaps the greatest gift of my birthday was that the public buses we took to get around — to Sweet’s E’s, the beach, pizza and ice cream — were on time. If you’ve used Honolulu’s public transit system, then you know how nightmarishly late the buses can be. (We once waited 50 minutes!!!!) I feel like I’ve chilled out quite a bit since traveling, but these buses bring out my New York City rage. Anger, dirty looks and lots of cursing.
And yet, we were shocked to catch one bus after another — even in the dicey nighttime hour — on time. So thank you TheBus, for making this journey into year 27 oh so smooth.
With only a week in Panama, we had enough time to only hit up the City and one island destination. If you’re unfamiliar, Panama actually has tons of island destinations, including San Blas, Bocas del Toro, Coiba National Park and the Pearl Islands among others. It’s these gorgeous beaches that make me certain that Panama will be a top destination in the next few years. Oh, this helps, too.
After rummaging through message boards and asking our friends, we decided to visit the San Blas Islands for a few reasons: 1.) The islands — and there are more than 360 of them — are governed by the Kuna tribes people, not Panamanians, making a visit to the island a wonderful combination of Caribbean and culture. And 2.) It looks like this:
To be fair, I think all of Panama’s beaches are supposed to be this stunning, but I’m not sure all offer the same amount of serenity. Thanks in part to the rustic island living conditions that some people probably don’t want to put up with — fair enough! — the San Blas Islands are much less touristy than Bocas del Toro, which actually has hotels and restaurants.
For $22/person/night, we stayed in bamboo huts at Ina’s Cabins, ate three very simple meals a day (hot dog and bread roll for breakfast, anyone?) and used a toilet that didn’t flush but required a bucket of water to wash stuff down. To be honest, I expected worse — like a whole in the ground. An actual commode was quite the luxury. Beyond that, this is basically a deserted island, people! There are cockroaches, ants and pesky sand flies. Just roll with it! (FYI, when we got to the island, they said they didn’t have our reservation, which was booked from the Panama City hostel Luna’s Castle. It wasn’t the hostel’s fault; owner Ina seemed to not have most people’s confirmations, then mysteriously found rooms for all of us. I knew we weren’t all that far from South America and its erratic reservation systems.)
Our dormitory/hut:
And beds:
The most magical part of our three-night stay involved more than just the white sand beaches, translucent water, snorkeling adventures and island-hopping; it was the feeling of truly living with the Kuna people. We saw the kids, often disrobed, climbing coconut trees. We watched women weaving their traditional mola cloths — a type of embroidered cloth that we bought ourselves. We made friends with the crazy chef who got drunk with everyone on the beach one night. It felt special, and I’d like to add, not at all kitschy or made-for-tourists. It was natural. They live in paradise, and we happened to be there with them.
I’ll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.
Eaman, trying to knock down a coconut:
It worked!
And it was delicious.
Kuna kids:
Made lifelong friends:
Ina, the owner of the cabanas, with a recently caught iguana, which is a traditional Kuna food:
Furry crab legs, one of the many meals I politely ate around and passed on to someone else:
Eaman, washing up post-sand burial. Also a good way to show you how close some of these islands are to each other. Boat rides between the islands go for $1-10 depending on number of people going and how far the island is. We went to one island with a nearby sunken ship and plenty of colorful fish in its nooks and crannies, as well as the island across from us as seen in this picture. Its only inhabitants are a Kuna man, his mother and his very adorable puppy:
Colombia gets a lot of love from backpackers, but no city within the newly minted go-to destination gets as much love as Cartagena. A small coastal town with a culture all its own — a vibrant mix of Afro-Caribbean-Spanish — Cartagena is called the jewel of the Colombian coast in my Footprints guidebook, and after spending five days there, we can understand why.
I mean, seriously, have you ever seen such beautiful colors paint a city? I couldn’t get enough of it.
The set-up of the city is also something interesting to note. Its center is surrounded by a wall — thereby giving it the name “the walled city” — a tactic used by the Spanish to protect their artillery back in the 1500s.
We didn’t do much sight-seeing beyond walking around the city and inspecting the wall, but we made up for it big time by sampling the local cuisine. The best way to do so is by ordering the set lunch menus, which run at an economical $5-7. It usually includes meat (often fish because it’s on the coast), rice (sometimes the local speciality of arroz con coco, or coconut rice), mashed and fried plantains called patacon and salad.
Oh, and don’t even get me started on the tropical fruit. In drinks or on their own, the fruit was spectacular. We made it our mission to try as much as we could.
Lulo, best served in drinks:
Limonada with coconut:
The street vendors told us the get their fruits, not at a special market, but at the grocery store, so that’s where we went:
Maracuya (spiky yellow), grandilla (looks like an orange) and hijo (in Eaman’s hands):
Breakdown of the grandilla. First, a weird, sponge cake-like inside:
Tangy, crunchy seeds to be scooped out and eaten:
When we weren’t stuffing our faces with local cuisine, we were hanging out at our hostel, El Viajero, probably the most “party hostel” we’ve had so far. The set-up was great, with a long common patio for everyone to chat, drink and, in the case of the night we got in, learn champeta (a super, um, sensual local dance) and salsa from the bartender girl.
Hostel party excursion to nearby hostel, Medialuna. We hung out on the hostel’s balcony, but this was the scene below. Very New Orleans:
Live band, playing Colombian fare at the hostel party:
Back at 3:30am, Eaman found a guitar and a fellow backpacker decided to read Game of Thrones:
Oh, and beyond all those other goodies, Cartagena was HOT. You may remember me complaining about how chilly Bogota was. Well, it was humid and in the 90s every day. I never, ever take cold showers — even in NYC’s muggy July and August temps — but they only offered cold showers at the hostel. And you know what? I loved it. That’s how hot it was.
The temperature also made it all the more perfect for a two-day trip to Playa Blanca, a picture-postcard beach on the island of Baru, just an hour boat ride from Cartagena. It’s a bit of a cluster**** trying to get there because, of all the places that people hassle you to buy stuff in Cartagena — and there are a lot — it’s the worst at the port leaving for Playa Blanca. It’s actually worse than the bazaars of Cairo, if you can believe it.
But once you get to the island and once the boats leave for the day around 4 p.m., you have this beautiful place set on the Carribbean to yourself:
We slept overnight in hammocks for $3, swam in what may have been the warmest water I’ve ever felt at a beach and bonded with a new group of friends — three Brazilians, two Swiss and one Argentinian from our hostel who came to the playa on the same day. It’s funny because at the last two hostels we’ve stayed it, I felt misplaced and had difficulty connecting with people. But on the beach, we became a little clan who did everything together — whether we were dancing on the beach or arguing with the restaurant that took two hours to bring out our order. It’s interesting how friendships shape so quickly when you’re isolated.
It was usually deserted, but this was pick-up time for everyone to go back to Cartagena, hence the masses:
It was particularly unclear the day we went to snorkel, but we did see some fish and picked up seashells:
Playing with my camera’s functions:
Coconut water and leftover coconut to be eaten:
It was heaven — except for the raging sand flies, who were in full force the day and night we were there. We would’ve definitely stayed another night if it weren’t for our flight to Medellin because despite the number of people that go there, it still felt special and serene.
For an even better look at Cartagena, I highly recommend watching part one of Anthony Bourdain’s trip to Colombia for his Travel Channel series No Reservations. (Note: We wanted to go to the ceviche place he visits in the episode, but we had heard it’s gotten expensive and touristy since it aired.)
Read about our adventures in Bogota, Colombia here.