The Misadventures of Jenna in Asia: The case of the mystery illness, mystery hotel, and mystery restaurant

Let me start this entry with the fact that I am sick. And as you know I don’t often get sick—however, what makes this situation all bright and shiny is that I am a medical mystery. With a mysterious fever that disappears and reappears, a swollen tongue/taste buds, a sore throat, a cough and some minor congestion the medical staff has no idea what I’ve come down with. Be forewarned—I was told I am not contagious nor do I have strep or malaria. *Whew*

Well after some adventures and dress making in Vietnam, we sailed for two days, where I stared at the inside of my cabin hoping to feel better. Of course the one time my body decides to test the immune system out, I find out that everyone onboard will be having their temperature taken and must NOT have a fever in order to entre Hong Kong. Oh joy. Luckily, I pass the test, thanks in part to my good friends: Motrin and Tylenol.

Upon our arrival to Hong Kong I decide, “Well, screw it. If I don’t feel well, maybe some fresh air will be good for me.” So on Sunday, Kristen (who is now feeling better after her stomach bug from Thailand) and I, venture to Hong Kong Island via ferry. We shopped and explored, got lost, took the wrong ferry back to our port, spent plenty of money and soon decided to call it a day. Ironically, Camp Kennybrook came back into my life for the second time on this voyage when I got to have a late coffee date and reunite with a fellow counselor, Leigh Hewson. Apparently, he’s been in an exchange program there since January! [cue the “It’s a Small World” song] So Leigh and I met up at the mall our ship was docked in and caught up on life. The American and the Brit meet in Hong Kong—love it!

But my China experience wouldn’t be any fun if I couldn’t top my crazy travel stories from Vietnam—so I decide to make this epic tale of mine into an epic novel. After what I like to refer to as, “That time in Nam”, I felt traveling would be a breeze. Little did I know, my cocky American attitude would quickly get flushed down the drain.

Right now I’m sitting in the Hilton hotel in Beijing. I will be visiting the Great Wall of China soon. But the story of how I got here is almost enough in itself:

This morning Kristen and I woke up bright and early to head to Beijing. We decided way back in South Africa that we wanted to independently go to the Great Wall—not through SAS or through the Facebook group (where tomorrow many of my friends will be sleeping/freezing on the Great Wall). So we booked flights from Hong Kong to Beijing and returning ones from Beijing to Shanghai, where we will meet the ship. We found a cheap hotel and booked that too—hey, it had free wi-fi. Expedia seemed like a reliable source, so that’s who we went through.

Well, obviously things didn’t go necessarily as planned. We hopped on the ferry this morning over to Hong Kong Island, found the Airport Express train, bought our tickets and were on our way. Just the two of us. Ironically (again!), we booked the same flight as the SAS trip so we arrived at the airport and boarded the plane with a little under 100 other SASers. Well, no worries. Once we landed in Beijing (and were reintroduced to winter weather—yuck), we went through customs (which took FOREVER!) and then made our way to baggage claim. But when we got there it was empty. I’m telling you and international airport baggage claim—empty! I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Well, slightly concerned, Kristen and I attempt to ask someone when the baggage are coming out, or if they already did and she just keeps reassuring us that this is the correct carousel. A few minutes later, Kristen leaves to see if she can get directions to our hotel from an information booth and I wait, patiently, for our bag. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty, and finally we are fed up. We head to the Lost/Found area where my blue duffel bag is waiting for me, squashed underneath mountains of other bags. I pried it out and then we finally made our way to the taxi line.

In the midst of getting a cab, we were overwhelmed by the paparazzi who were snapping photos of some Chinese team who just arrived in the airport—I’m thinking gymnastics? They were all girls in track suits, with their hair all tightly pulled back and wearing medals around their necks. Anyway, we laughed and then found a taxi. Of course, our taxi driver had NO IDEA where this hotel we booked was. So we drive around while he calls literally everyone in his cell phone to find out where this place is. No good. And since he speaks no English, we can’t even tell him to pull over to a hotel so we can find someone to talk to. Finally after some pointing and nodding and broken, guttural sounds, we pull up to a shack of a hotel where, you guessed it, no one speaks English! Ugh.

Well after pointing at a map for 10 minutes a man, who happens to be staying there, walks over and realizes our distress. He helps translate for a while and we find out that no one knows where the Green Tree Inn is. So now we’re stuck. Shack hotel had no rooms available, so we ask to be taken to a Hilton or a Sheraton, hoping that maybe someone there will speak English, or at least they will have a room available. A few nods and handshakes later, we’re back in the cab and in front of the Hilton Beijing.

We go inside and of course it’s nice and warm and everyone is speaking English and we’re back in our comfort zone. That is, until we ask the prices of the room. Let’s just say that it was slightly higher than our $20 a night, cheap room at the non-existent Green Tree Inn. Kristen and I decide that instead of staying we’re going to shop around for another hotel. The gent at the front desk, kindly understands, gets us a cab, and tells us there is a 3-star hotel around the corner for about the same price as the Green Tree would have been. So we head there.

This new hotel doesn’t seem too bad, but when we go inside there is only one room left and the girl at the front desk says it “stinky.” Clearly, we know the meaning of this word, but we can’t grasp what she is trying to tell us. She understands and decides to show us the room and let us decide for ourselves. We get to the room, tired, 3 hours after our flight landed, just yearning for somewhere to sleep and put our stuff down, but the room smells like a combination of fresh paint and formaldehyde—not good. Kristen and I give each other one look and walk right out of that hotel and march back to the Hilton.

At this point we’ve given up on money and we decide that for the money we know we’ll be staying somewhere clean and the people will speak some English—that’s all we can ask for. Oh language barriers—don’t you love ‘em? We finally settle in, call our parents, laugh a little and make our way back downstairs to hunt for dinner. The receptionist gives us the name of a nice little Chinese place that makes good dim sum and we have her write it down in Mandarin to show to the cab driver. He nods, we get in, and then, of course, he has no idea where it is—and he speaks no English. Excellent. He drops us off on the road where this mystery restaurant is supposed to be and instead we find some little place where no one speaks English—we’re accustomed to it at this point—and play the “point and order” game.

Thankfully, I’m safe and sound now, back in my hotel.

Great Wall later on—hopefully…

Good Morning Vietnam!

Vietnam, Vietnam, Vietnam. *Shakes head*

What expereinces I've had. And to think I've still got one more night. My favortie thus far must be my "17 Hour Adventure" with my new friend Laura.

On our second day in Vietnam we left for an adventure that would change my life. You see, Kristen was sick in the room and Laura and I decided that we wanted to spend some time outside of Ho Chi Minh City and go to the beaches of Vung Tau. Little did we know, this mission would be near impossible.

At 6:30 pm we set off on motorcycle taxi's to the bus depot. Note to all you travelers: do NOT go to the bus depot. Basically we when we arrived we were new attractions at the zoo as many of the locals had never interacted with foreigners. On the 30 minute drive to the depot my driver proceeded to get in an accident. Like legitimately. We rear-ended the motorcycle in front of us and then another guy crashed into our side, missing my leg my mere inches. Oh, so that's why riding motorcycles are dangerous. Opps. Anyway, we arrived at the depot safe and sound, and our drivers helped us out in getting bus tickets.

We finally got our bus tickets and rushed to get onto the bus. We were pointed in this direction than that direction until we finally hopped onto an airconditioned motorcoach. Laura and I sit down and uncomfortably check out our surroundings for the first time. Of course this is when we realize we're on the wrong bus! This bus is going to the beach 7 hours away!! Well, we skadaddle off the current bus and in broken English and various hand gestures attempt to find the bus we're really supposed to be on. We are passed from Vietnamese person to Vietnamese person until we can exchange our tickets and get onto another bus...or well, van. This time we're sitting on a 12 seat utility van, where we are clearly the only foreigners and people are obviously confused by our presence. It was unconfortable, but we stayed. Why we didn't get off and go back to the ship, I still don't know. Long story short, at 7:45 the van/bus takes off and now we're stuck...on our way to God only knows where.

We met one man on the bus who speaks English and we're talking for a while on the bus. He gives us the name of some hotels that are nice and right along the beach. Ironically this guy is getting married on Saturday and going to Hong Kong for his honeymoon--maybe we'll see him there. Anyway, he made polite conversation and we got to ask him about life in Vietnam. Well, in the midst of our conversations and excitement our driver gets pulled over. And let me just say that police are scary, but Communist Police are REALLY frightening. He got a speeding ticket.

Two hours later we pull up to a gas station and are told to get out...this is the final stop. It's 9:45 at night. Upon our arrival we were greeted by two cabs and one homeless man, sitting on a dumpster, vomitting. Well Laura and I ran into the nearest cab and pointed to the only hotel name we recognized and said "Go." In Ho Chi Minh City SAS has a shuttle bring us to and from the port and city and we get dropped off at a 5-star hotel called The Rex Hotel. Well the Rex is apparently also in Vung Tau and we decide that it's our best bet as a hotel, even if it's a little expensive. Of course, when we roll of to this hotel, it's nothing like the Rex we're used to. Think Motel 6...but Asian themed. Oh yeah.

Well, our corner room--number 112--is just delightful. Out one window we have a lovely view of a garbage dump rooftop, and out the other window we see into a massage parlor. In the bathroom there is a hose coming from the ceiling and is directly over a drain...aka a shower. Oh and there is an outlet inside the shower too. There's also a gecko inside, just chillen. The comfortor has a cigarette burn in it...and by the way...they are plaid flannel comforters and sheets. Anyway, Laura and I decide to just hit the hay and attempt to fall asleep. We watch some quality tv--My Super Sweet 16--and then pass out.

The next morning we are woken up at 7 am by the phone ringing. The front desk wanted to confirm our ferry tickets back to the ship for 3 pm. Laura grumbles into the phone and we decide to start waking up. At 8:15 there's a knock on the door--the cleaning service is there to make the beds. So we get kicked out of our rooms and we decide to grab breakfast--since it's included in the bill. Well, breakfast turns out to be either a big loaf of bread or a little loaf of bread. Fed up and tired, since we tossed and turned all night, we decided it was time to head to the beach. We check out and get all ready just to find out--it's a fishing beach. No tanning! Ugh. Well, we wandered around, got coffee--which was literally like mud--and then decided we wanted to go "home" aka back to the ship.

We traded out 3 pm tickets for the 10:30 am ferry and peaced out. Vung Tau wasn't such a great experience. Wikitravel lied. Now I look back and laugh. I can say: "Remember that time in Nam?" It was the best 17 hours in my time in Vietnam.

A Time to Kill

Well, who's been a giant bum lately? Oh right, that would be me. I know...there are plenty of you who have been living vicariously through my blog and I haven't even been updating it. Opps!

So, here I am, updating the blog--just for YOU! First off I need to give a few shout outs:

Happy Birthday to Stacey Nassauer, Caroline Walthall, Debbie Erland, and Briana Lapadula! And Happy Bar Mitzvah to Robby!

Moving on...I know I haven't written anything about Thailand yet, but my experiences there were more "Spring Break" than "Study Abroad." I went on an independent trip with a TON of SAS kids to Phuket--aka the Cancun of Thailand. I'm going to sum up my time there in just a few key phrases. We traveled from Bangkok to Phuket, where we could have visited Pee-Pee Island. Let me just say it was an extremely sexually charged location. Hookers on the street corners, Thai massage parlors that offered...well, "Happy Endings", if you know what I mean...drinks galore and the beach. I mean, who could ask for more? We rode elephants, played with tiger cubs, took tours of the "Bat Cave"--literally, and stopped at James Bond Island. It wasn't the most academically influenced experience, but I'll say I did have a really great time.

But now, with our tour more than half way over I'm in Vietnam with Hong Kong as our next port of call. For people my age Vietnam is nothing more than a history lesson...just another place on the map. We never really covered the Vietnam War in history, so I wasn't sure what to expect from the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Ming. But after being here...my eyes have been opened and I don't think I can begin to describe the heartbreaking, emotional torment I've been put through. Now I'm not going to be able to do express my feelings to you at all. But I'll try my hardest...and I might need a little inspiration from John Grisham's A Time to Kill.

"I want to tell you a story. I'm going to ask you all to close your eyes while I tell you the story. I want you to listen to me. I want you to listen to yourselves. Go head. Close your eyes, please. This si a story about a litter girl walking home from the grocery store one sunny afternoon. I want you to picture this little girl. Suddenly a helicopter swoops down and a platoon of soldiers marches in. Men, speaking a foreign language, she doesn't understand, are yelling and screaming and grabbing at her. They drag her into a nearby field along with the rest of her family. Neighbors and friends are running for cover, away from the men and into their houses. She watches her mother and sister get raped; then it's her turn. And when they're done they use her for target practice. Bullets are flying past her ears and arms, tearing flesh all the way to her bones. The houses are going up in flames as grenaged are exploding all around her. Instead running away she bows down to the soldiers, hoping for mercy; praying for a chance of survival. They torture her instead. They use their fists to beat her senseless. Imagine the feeling of the rifle butt against her skull and with a crack she is blinded; the pain throbbing through her entire body. So they pick her up and liner her up. A soldier comes by and picks off each person in line by shooting them in the chest or head with his .45. Bodies are lying on the ground. Homes are burning in the background. The smell of death is overwhelming. With tears streaming down her face she is the last one alive--and then they shoot her too. Can you see her? Her raped, beaten, broken boyd soaked in their semen, soaked in her blood, left to die. Can you see her? I want you to picture that little girl. Now imagine she's an American."

I'll blog about my more positive experiences tomorrow. I want to let you chew on that for a few hours at least.

…I shiver with anticip—ation

Prior to my trip abroad I was asked, “Jenna, what is the country you are looking forward to the most?” And swiftly my reply was always “India.” The reaction to my answer always varied. Sometimes I would get the open-mouthed stare; other times people would nod nonchalantly. Either way, my answer was always India. I was so nervous after giving this answer that I would build up my experience in India so much that when I finally arrived I would be disappointed. Despite the rumors and the facts I heard about the smells and the dirt and the poverty of India, I never doubted that my experience in India would be nothing short of great. And now, as a seasoned traveler, I can honestly say that my expectations were exceeded and surpassed without hesitation.

Docked in Chennai on the east coast I decided months ago to venture north for four days, so I said goodbye to my floating home and hopped on a bus. Nervous and tired we headed for Delhi—the current capital of India. Old Delhi and New Delhi are combined to form Delhi, the first visit on our tour. We stopped at palaces, gardens, jewelers, an astrological conservatory and finally we pulled up to our hotel. Half delirious and hungry we trudged into the hotel with backpacks galore. Suddenly our entire groups was awake and in awe. The LaLit Hotel was not the ordinary Holiday Inn. The marble floors and fifty foot ceilings should have been a sign that we were not in Kansas anymore. Inside the hotel there was a club/bar, a small pond of water-lilies, an entire wine…closet (for lack of a better word)…on display, and the restaurant with an international buffet [don’t ask…I’ll explain it later]. And well of course there was the gym and the pool. Oh, and did I mention the Versace store inside? The rooms also boasted two queen sized beds for my roommate Melanie and I, a Jacuzzi and shower, a fully stocked mini bar and a HUGE flat screen TV. After settling in everyone met back downstairs for the most marvelous dinner: a buffet with pizza, pasta primavera, fresh made sushi, Indian curry, salads, fresh cheeses, and enough roasted and grilled veggies to last a lifetime. Of course that means dessert was nothing less than amazing too. Chocolate fondue, ice cream, crème Brule, fresh fruit (pineapple, kiwi, mango, oranges, strawberries), brownies, chocolate layer cake with raspberry jam—are you getting the picture? Basically we were spoiled on our first day which made it hard to leave the next morning. But still we piled onto the bus by 7 am to head the next city.

Our next stop was the pink city of India: Jaipur. After a quick driving tour of Old Delhi and another 4 hours in the car we made it to Jaipur where we stopped in the next hotel—nothing bad, but not The LaLit—had lunch and were off more tours. Here we visited a textile factory, another jewelry store, and a marketplace. We spent the evening bartering for scarves and other knickknacks until we returned to our hotel for dinner and in just enough time to pass out. The next morning we were up and out again, but this time for an elephant ride to the Amber Fort! Yes…I said elephant. I know—it was just as amazing as it sounds. After the 30 minute ride to the top we took a tour of the fort and took some pictures. We drove some more, had a boxed lunch on the bus, and then made our way to Agra—home of the Taj Mahal. We stopped at another palace, where we, the mature college kids, took pictures climbing all over the monuments and buildings, goofing off.

The next morning, at 5 am we all were woken up and we left the hotel by 6:30. By 7 am, sunrise, we were at the Taj. Let me just say, no picture will ever do the Taj justice. Over the past few days our bus really bonded—as a matter of fact we labeled ourselves as “Jai Ho”—after the final song from Slumdog Millionaire. Taj (ironically our tour guide’s name) labeled all the girls as “Lakita” and all the boys as “Jamal”. [I love my movie references] Well, the reason I tell you all this is because we decided at the Taj Mahal to be a bit…unique. I choreographed a dance and we performed it in front of the Taj and made a minor music video. It was hysterical. People were staring in awe and shock, but it was so worth it. I mean, I DANCED in front of the Taj Mahal!! How many people can say that?

This was by far the best Semester at Sea sponsored trip I’ve been on thus far. Part of that reason is because of the itinerary and experience, but most of that reason is because of the people I was with.

Today we had a Service Trip at the Sri Sayee Vivekananda School. According to a news packet we received it serves the educational need of the economically disadvantages population of the area of Chennai. Basically, it is a free school for 694 students in the slums of India. And today we got to be guests to the entire school. They performed various cultural dances and asked us questioned, informally, about living in America and our culture and our trip. For majority of my day I spent being the Monkey in a rendition of Monkey in the Middle with a gaggle of 9th grade girls.

The older I find myself becoming more of a student. The younger generations are the teachers. These girls and all the other kids I met today know how to live a full life without any regrets, and still they are very conscious of their surroundings and their environment. After all that anticipating about what India would be like and what experiences I would have—it proved to be better than I could imagine.