From Morocco to Myanmar: My travel top 12 (so far)

A question I get asked a lot is, 'where is your favorite place you've ever been?' Choosing just one is literally impossible, but I've managed to get it down to a dozen. This list is short on major sites and singular monuments and big on places and experiences. Sometimes it's the journey and not the destination that makes a trip.

This is a list that will almost certainly change over time, we have a lot of work to do in South America, Africa and right here in Australia. But at this moment in time, here are my top 12 (in no particular order):

1. Getting lost in Essaouira, Morocco

Essaouira was our penultimate stop on a long, hard journey through Morocco; a dot on the map that broke up a long bus ride between Agadir and Casablanca. I was 23 and this was my first encounter with the third world and the Islamic world (these were the days before Easy Jet was depositing 'stag do's' by the planeload in Marrakech).

With no male travel companion, we spent a lot of the trip seeking solace on the rooftop terraces of our riads to escape the steady stream of sexual slurs and general harassment that had trailed us through Fez and Marrakech. We dressed conservatively and it was the driest college 'spring break' trip this side of Cancun.

By the end of our journey we were feeling fairly defeated and then we alighted in Essaouria. We were among just a sprinkling of other tourists and for the first time in two weeks, left largely to our own devices. Free to stroll on the beach, wander the souk and browse without interference or a relentless sales pitch, it was the Morocco I had envisioned - beautiful, exotic, and hospitable.

2. Swan Lake at the Bolshoi, Moscow, Russia

When I was in kindergarten, each week a different student got to fill in a poster about themselves. You got to fill in things like your favorite food (spaghetti), favorite colour (blue) etc. One of the categories was 'three wishes' and I wrote that, 'I wish I lived in Russia.' It was 1988. I'm pretty sure my reasoning had more to do with ballerinas than Cold War politics, but I was positively smitten by Russia, even as a child.

Fast-forward to 2004 when I was on a college trip to Moscow and St Petersburg. One evening in Moscow, my professor knocked on my hotel room door and asked my roommate and I if we liked the ballet, I replied, 'we love the ballet'. Through some booking quirk our group had been split up and there were two premium, front row, box seats available and we were the chosen ones. Sipping champagne we watched the most famous ballet company in the world perform the most famous ballet in the world!

3. The Taj Mahal, Agra, India

India may have a bit of trouble taking care of its nice things, but this is not one of them. The Taj positively sparkles and it's hard to believe that it is pushing 400 years old; it looks like it was completed yesterday. I can't quite put my finger on why I'm so much more impressed by the Taj than the Eiffel Tower, Sydney Opera House or even Angkor Wat, but I think it has something to do with the size, the symmetry and scale. The Taj is one that you really need to see for yourself, photos just don't capture it.

4. London like a local

I was lucky enough to 'live' in London as a study abroad student and have been back many times since. Sure, it's crowded, expensive, a bit dowdy and the weather is terrible, but who cares. Londoners are terribly smug about being Londoners, but I probably would be too if I lived there. It is a city positively groaning under the weight of history. It has some of the best museums in the world (most of which are free), the food is far better than you think, and there is no shortage of excellent watering holes.

5. Inveraray, Scotland

In Scotland, if you tell a local that you are going to Inveraray at the weekend, their immediate reply will be, 'Oh, are you going to The George?' Aside from a stunning position on Loch Fyne (which in my humble opinion produces the world's best oysters) Inveraray boasts what must be one of the finest gastropubs in all of Scotland (it's a good thing too, because it's practically the only place in town.)

The George (which is also a hotel) shatters my rule about hotel restaurants generally being paragons of mediocrity. (Outside of Edinburgh) Scottish pubs frequently lack the charm of their English counterparts, but not the George. The building dates from 1770 and has been lovingly cared for and restored. There are over 100 malt whiskies to choose from (believe me, when Uncle Matt came to town we got through an impressive selection of them). There are cozy nooks, open fireplaces and a gorgeous conservatory. Sadly, it's been a few years since we were last there, but I still salivate at the thought of their local scallops with brown butter and roasted hazelnuts or their to-die-for sticky toffee pudding.

The flagship Loch Fyne restaurant is also just down the road, and they hold a fabulous little seafood festival every 'summer'. If I was made of time and money, I'd go every year.

6. The Grand Canyon, Arizona, USA

Anyone who has been will probably agree. Our first glimpse was the day after our emergency wedding in Vegas (short version, we needed to get married so I could get a residency visa in Malaysia). We approached from the North Rim, it was early autumn; cool, clear and the summertime crowds had largely dispersed. We spent two spellbound days photographing it from every vantage point we could find. Unfortunately, Ian had a broken foot, so we didn't get to do any serious hiking. I guess it means we'll have to go back.

7. Margaret River to Monkey Mia, Western Australia's Indian Ocean Coast

I have no doubt that this is a permanent fixture on the list. This stretch of coast is without question one of my favorite places on the planet. There's almost nothing (and no one) here and that is a huge part of its charm. The best part is, we haven't even covered half of it. Margaret River to Monkey Mia is only 1,125km (700 miles) of this magnificent stretch. From Monkey Mia, it's another 1,800km (1,120 miles) up to Broome and we can't wait to pick up where we left off.

8. Into the Heart of Borneo: Kuching, Malaysia

 

I'll be honest, when we arrived at Kuching's shiny new airport for the first time in 2011 and found ourselves in a tidy, orderly, little city and not some jungle-backwater (I'd been reading too much Conrad), I was a tiny bit put out. It certainly wasn't the image of Borneo that I had in my head, but I rallied and graciously accepted my unanticipated creature comforts. We dined at atmospheric little restaurants serving up local specialities like midin (an edible jungle fern) and drank ritzy cocktails made from local arak. There is a pleasant promenade along the riverfront, a quaint and crusty Victorian natural history museum and plenty of shops selling (not made in China) Dyak and Iban arts and crafts.

But in Kuching you can have your cake and eat it too. While the city is pleasantly civilised, the surrounding area allows you to sample Borneo's wild side. The orang-utans at Semmengoh Nature Reserve are real show-stoppers, but so too is Bako National Park. Bako is accessible only by boat (through crocodile-infested waters) and is home to rare proboscis monkeys and far, far too many kinds of snakes. There are extensive hikes to remote beaches and waterfalls and it is truly hotter than hell. There's also Kubah National Park, the Fairy Caves, Damai Beach and Mount Santubong. You can get all the jungle you require and then some.

9. Monet's Garden, Giverny, France

When I was a kid, my sister and I had a book called Linnea in Monet's Garden, if I think hard enough I can still recall specific passages and illustrations from the book. I loved it that much. So standing on the Japanese Bridge in Monet's Garden was kind of a big deal. The garden isn't overly landscaped; it's dense, almost shabby-chic and just as pretty as in the paintings.

10. The slow train: Yangon to Bagan, Myanmar

It was long, it was uncomfortable, and it was exactly as it was supposed to be. We trundled (and occasionally alarmingly rocked) along at an inconceivably slow pace, watching life in one of the world's least developed and most disconnected countries slide by. When things go according to plan, the journey takes about 17 hours to cover just under 400 miles. There's cold beer, no wifi, probably some of the safest food you'll eat, and definitely not the worst toilet you'll encounter (that's back at the station), so open the window wide, sit back and enjoy.

11. Sailing and snorkeling Komodo National Park, Indonesia

 

36 hours of sailing the Flores sea, snorkeling in pristine tropical waters, and spotting Komodo dragons (which are the closest thing you are ever going to see to a real life dinosaur). This is the only place on the planet you can spot these beasts and the scenery isn't bad either. Just make sure you have a good travel insurance policy and bring your own beer for the boat ride.

12. My (kind of) town, Chicago, USA

Despite a long tradition of megalomaniac mayors, Chicago is remarkably and refreshingly unpretentious. Chicago is one of the best looking cities in the world, but I think it looks particularly good in snow. A boozy brunch and a matinee at Second City is pretty much the perfect day out. Or maybe a leisurely stroll around the Art Institute and a ribeye the size of your face for dinner. Between London and Chicago, who needs New York?

Java: Borobudur

Overwhelmingly the single most popular tourist attraction in Indonesia, Borobudur has nowhere near the world-renown of other famous temple complexes like Angkor Wat but I can't quite figure out why . . . I mean, look at it!

Borobudur - history

I think it's almost fair to put Borobudur on a scale with Angkor Wat.  What Borobudur lacks in size and scale (not that it's by any means small) Borobudur makes up for in symmetry and surroundings.  The symmetry is eye-catching in a way reminiscent of the Taj Mahal. And whilst Angkor Wat is surrounded by pleasant flat, dense jungle, Borobudur offers commanding views across the Javanese countryside with unrivaled views of Mount Merapi (one of Java's deadliest and most active volcanoes with major eruptions in 2006 and 2010) looming in the distance.

Borobudur dates from Indonesia's Buddhist period in the early 9th century - making it nearly 400 years senior to its Cambodian rival - never mind that Borobudur has a tale of survival that tops Angkor Wat.  Angkor has famously been victim to war and neglect but Borobudur has been cursed by geography.  Surviving 13-odd centuries of earthquakes and volcanoes is no small feat - and is even more remarkable when you see how incredibly well preserved Borobudur is (it's in significantly better condition than Angkor Wat).

Like Angkor Wat, Borobudur also experienced an extended period of abandonment. Borobudur was abandoned from as early as the 11th century when the Medang Kingdom moved east after a series of volcanic eruptions and endured further neglect when Indonesia transitioned to Islam in the 15th century. Borobudur was only properly rediscovered with the arrival of the British in the late 1800s. Since then Borobudur has been restored and well-maintained, but has still been victim to attempted terrorist attacks, most recently in the 1990s.  It goes without saying that Borobudur suffers from the same problems of major monuments the world over - vandalism, pollution, littering and over-crowding.

Borobudur - visiting

Repeatedly touted as Indonesia's busiest tourist attraction, we anticipated Angkor-sized crowds.  We certainly didn't have the place to ourselves, but by comparison to Angkor Wat - Borobudur was downright deserted.  The overwhelming majority of visitors were Indonesian - largely comprised of junior high school groups.  There were probably less than a dozen Westerners there - making us a bit famous.

We had our pictures taken - both surreptitiously on phone cameras and in countless group shots with school girls and one wailing 4 year old whose father desperately wanted a photo of us with his son (the son was clearly less impressed with us).

To Ian's eternal glory he was extremely popular with 14-16 year old girl demographic.  One girl even sidled up to him, whispered in his ear 'I love you' and ran off.  At 6 feet, Ian is a veritable giant in Indonesia and a subject of much adoration.

I have no doubt that we have been Facebooked and Instagramed all over Java.

It is always strange when you are subject to such attention solely because of the the colour of your skin.  But as in India, these groups are likely children from small, rural villages and most of them probably have never seen a white person anywhere but on the television or perhaps on the odd trip into the city.

We lingered until the sun because too much to bear, the beer craving too strong and the camera on the verge of overheating.

Rumah Dharma

Borobudur is only an hour (maniac Indonesian-style) drive from Yogyakarta but it feels a million miles away.  We decided to splurge (by which I mean spend about $50 a night) on a lovely B&B style place smack in the middle of a huge rice paddy with jungle all around.  This photo is where we sat and enjoyed our red ginger lemonade (delicious) shortly after arrival.

I don't normally plug places where we've stayed, but I'm making an exception here.  If you ever find yourself in this part of Java, take a couple of days and stay at Rumah Dharma (translated as Dharma's House, named for the owners eight year old son).

This really is a special place, the owners are a delight, she's Belgian, he's Indonesian (between them they speak about 9 languages) the rooms are tip-top, the food is delicious (if you give enough notice they will cook you dinner and have a fridge stocked with cold beer).  They are generous, accommodating and full of tips on where to go and what to do.  If you're lucky you may even catch Mehdi on night when he brings out his guitar (and a bottle of gin). 

Jamal

Wendy and Mehdi also employ a local handy-man, Jamal, who is truly a bit of a local celebrity.

 Jamal rides around in a 40-odd year old vespa with a little sidecar that is rusted through and held together with bits of string.  Jamal was kind enough to take us around town in it (everyone in at least a 15 mile radius knows Jamal).  The photo is us stopping to by petrol from a local woman on the side of the road (that's Jamal at the back supervising).

Jamal has driven the Vespa all over Indonesia - I'm pretty sure it's been on the ferry to Bali and a few years ago it even made the 7,000 foot + climb to the top of Mount Bromo. 

Jamal is a rather remarkable man. He is a Mount Merapi volunteer and has more than once helped with evacuations, he's incredibly involved in the community and has frequently been asked to become an English teacher (he learned English through correspondence with an Australian woman years ago, he's obviously very bright and I suspect he never came anywhere near finishing school). His English is astoundingly good, but the accent is very, very strong.

He loves Indonesia (except Jakarta) more than anything and he feels sorry for anyone who isn't from there.  We'd love to meet him again.

Around Borobudur

We had originally only planned for one night in Borobudur as at first glance (and from any tourist info you receive) there isn't a lot to do other than check out the temple and be on your way.  It only took us about 15 minutes - based on the surroundings and the company to decide that we wanted to stay - we  signed up for another night and would have stayed longer if we'd had the time.

For us, the real highlight of Borobudur was just having the opportunity to check out the surrounding area.  Rumah Dharma has bicycles to borrow and there are countless country lanes (and the ground is mercifully flat!) that you can cycle around and take in the views and check out the farming villages.

 The locals are almost heart achingly kind and welcoming - we were cycling around on Friday afternoon so every man and boy in the area was on their way to mosque for Friday prayers - I think it would be an under-estimate to say that 99% percent of them said hello or at the very least had a wave and huge grin for us.

The region is picturesque beyond anything we anticipated.  The villages are comprised of tidy bamboo huts and well-tended gardens.  Cockerels, toddling babies and hunched, tough old women squawk and watch you from the shade of their front porches (no doubt marvelling over what kind of idiots would be out in the heat of the mid-day sun) - and unlike in Malaysia where the kampungs are typically a bit grim and dirty, these were very much places of community and thoroughly charming.

All too soon our time was up and we really didn't want to leave.
We told Wendy that we'd be back, so if any of  our visitors want to go, we'd be glad to take you!

Ian having meltdowns about transportation, sampling local delicacies and getting a bit of urban culture in the next instalment.

Java Journey

10 days, up and down mountains and volcanoes, multiple train rides, becaks, bikes and enough walking to last a lifetime we've made it back from our first venture into Indonesia.

Feeling slightly adventurous we opted for Java rather than the more traditional tourist trail to Bali (maybe next year). Java is overwhelmingly the cultural, economic and political centre of Indonesia and seemed like the ideal place to get to know one of our nearest neighbours.

The island of Java itself (only one of the17,000-20,000 islands that make up Indonesia) is just smaller than England at around 50,000 square miles - but home to 140 million of Indonesia's nearly 250 million people - that's a population density of 2,700+ people per square mile. 

Largely escaping mass urbanisation and sprawl - something wealthier, more developed countries have struggled with -  Java has somehow maintained a truly beautiful countryside.  With such limited space they've clearly opted to take care of what they have - they also need to farm every spare scrap of land to feed themselves and there are worse things to look at than glistening green rice paddies and terraced hillsides of coffee, onions and cabbages.

Unfortunately the idyllic Java countryside is the exception rather than the rule, Sumatra and Kalimatan (Indonesian Borneo) are experiencing rampant deforestation, pollution and illegal land use. Sumatra reportedly bears great resemblance to Malaysia - one giant oil palm plantation.

In any event, we couldn't help but be thoroughly charmed.  The people are overwhelmingly warm and friendly (yes, a few desperately want you to visit their batik shop) but on the whole they are sincere, inquisitive and welcoming.

The population is 85% Muslim, yet Indonesia is an adamantly secular society (in the 2009 elections the leading Islamist party secured a paltry 8% of the vote).  I would estimate that well under half of women wear headscarves in this part of Indonesia and art (including depictions of human form!), music and dance flourish.

In general the Javanese seem to wear their religion on their sleeve less than other Muslim countries that I've visited - but this is only telling of this particular corner of Java, in Banda Aceh (Sumatra) women are mandated to wear headscarves and alcohol is illegal.

The Javanese are completely comfortable blending their Animist, Buddhist, and Hindu pasts into one - the famed shadow puppets of Java clearly own much to their Hindu roots and belief in black magic and ritual superstitions still run deep (you can pick up a raven to sacrifice at the bird market in any city).

Despite its many charms it's a place with a dark side as well.  Poverty is evident - although there are very few homeless people and beggars and virtually no starving or abandoned children and the per capita GDP is steadily climbing, currently at just under $5,000 a year.

The level of corruption is unforgivable. There was a sign at the customs station at the airport which prohibited 'tipping' of officials.  Indonesia is ranked 100 out of 182 countries on the worldwide corruption index (a significant improvement of about 20 places within the last few years).

On the whole I'd put Indonesia about ten years ahead of India and ten years behind Malaysia - which, as a tourist is just about where I like a country to be - free enough from disease and poverty lurking around every corner but well before the country is transformed into one vast air-conditioned mega-mall.

More on scaling volcanoes, ancient temples and adventures with street food in the next installment.

The Midwest meets Mecca

I've successfully survived my third roundtrip from Kuala Lumpur to Chicago this year. As wonderful as it is to go home, there is quite simply nothing pleasant about the journey. Going east or west it's obscenely long and the 13 hour time change is painful for even the most well-adjusted traveller.

Two wonderful weddings aside, I couldn't have picked a better time to go home. With the exception of two wet, blustery days, Illinois was enjoying a truly splendid early autumn.

It's just possible that in the 22 years I spent growing up in the Midwest that I may have taken for granted just how lovely it can be at certain times of the year.

In any event, all good things must come to an end and on Monday I began my epic return journey. I'm well into my 7th year of living abroad and coming and going from home never gets any easier. The stress and anticipation going and the stress and sadness of leaving never change. Although coming from Malaysia rather than the UK adds a completely different dimension - there is of course the distance (the only way for me to get further from home is to move south) but the disorientation that comes with such a drastic and immediate cultural and environmental transition.

The long layovers in Abu Dhabi or Dubai only enhance the disorientation. Wandering Abu Dhabi airport in the wee hours of Wednesday morning there were two flights boarding for Saudi Arabia - one for Riyadh, one to Jeddah.

The Riyadh flight was 100% male and I would hazard 90% of the flight was new or returning migrant workers - mostly poor Bangladeshis and Indonesians. The other 10% seemed (at least in my mind) to be large, swaggering Saudis returning home from business.

The Jeddah flight was nearly 100% full of pilgrims embarking on the Hadj bound for nearby Mecca. There were large delegations (at least 50 people each) from Kazakhstan and Malaysia, all in matching outfits and roughly equal numbers of men and women. There was another large delegation of entirely men - I couldn't tell from where, but I would guess another gulf state.

The Kazaks looked old, tired and poor; the Malays diminuitive in both size and disposition. The all-male delegation, wrapped entirely in loose, open white robes were laughing, smiling and snapping photos to the point where they were in danger of missing their flight - if you didn't know better you could have sworn they were all off for a stag weekend.

Watching these flights board, I struggled to think of any two groups of people with which I had less in common. I would go just about anywhere given the opportunity, but Saudi Arabia isn't one of them.

Finally my turn came to board and I ended up sitting next to a friendly, middle-aged man who asked me in good English, where I was from and what I was doing in Malaysia. I explained and asked in turn what he was doing - he said he was visiting his son who is a student and wants to send his other son to study in Malaysia as well.

I asked if he was from the UAE, he said, 'No, I work in Abu Dhabi.' He hesitated a moment then told me he was from Yemen. He added, 'There is a civil war now, I want to get my younger son out of Yemen. The situation is very bad.' The conversation faltered, what do you say to someone who tells you they are from Yemen?

I dozed and watched the Pirates of the Caribbean III for the rest of the flight. As we began our descent there was a bit of rain, my Yemeni friend said, 'Oh, I love the rain.'