Getting Karaoke Confident

Posted on August 6, 2014 by sglaser

View of Ho Chi Minh City from the banks of the Saigon River in District 2.

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. May, 2014

For some reason, when my new Vietnamese friend, Ivy, kept prodding me to sing, the only tune that came to me was “Timber” by Pitbull and Ke$ha. My seven-year-old daughter, Kasey, had recently downloaded the song on my iPhone and it’s one of those ditties that stations itself in your brain for an indefinite period of time.

Ke$ha © Becky SullivaMy seven-year-old daughter, Kasey, had recently downloaded the song on my iPhone and it’s one of those ditties that stations itself in your brain for an extended period of time.

“It’s going down; I’m yelling timber. You better run; you better dance.”

Even I could hear my pubescentesque squawk in “Timber” as I sang for Ivy and her enthusiastic boyfriend, Danny, while we stood on the banks of the Saigon River in District Two of Ho Chi Minh City. Although it was dark, I still looked around, hoping no one else was watching or, worse yet, listening. Usually, a few alcoholic beverages are required before I can do this kind of thing.

Completely sober, I cringed since we were at a spot where many couples came to gaze at the well-lit nighttime cityscape while they held hands and probably crooned in-tune love songs to each other. I knew karaoke was big in Asia, but a request for impromptu singing with no backup music and no reliably scrolling lyrics on a screen?

Here I am with Ivy after my solo.

“Steph, that is wonderful!! Keep going,” Ivy said and hugged me as she did when, as a tour guide, she took me out sightseeing the first day I arrived in Saigon. Danny also praised my discordant vocal talents. “You sing very well,” he said nodding with what appeared to be one of the most sincere smiles I had ever seen. I couldn’t remember any more of the lyrics aside from the lengthy series of “oooooohs” in the chorus.

When I told Ivy I couldn’t recall the rest of the words, she said, “Sing another song!” Oh man, what was I in for?

Ivy and Danny, my new friends, and apparently, fans.

Earplugs and earlier scarring

I’m a bit concerned about the Vietnamese. Frankly, I think they should focus less on wearing face masks to ward off air pollution while in motorscooter traffic, and instead, invest in some earplugs. Clearly, there is some hearing loss going on.

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A “crazy dog” and roasting marshmallows with chopsticks in Sapa, Vietnam

Posted on July 10, 2014 by sglaser

Li takes a rare break from our trek and checks her cell phone.

Outside of Sapa, Vietnam, May 2014

Along the 15 kilometer trek to a hilly homestay in Northern Vietnam, our 4’8″ Hmong guide, Li, insisted that 11 other tourists and I did not need to stop for water and that we would slow the whole group down by taking too many photos of the rice terraces.

How could we not take photos? One view of the stunning rice terraces around Sapa, Vietnam

Li was a tad hardcore. After all, she and other Hmong guides probably cruised that route at least twice a day while wearing what amounted to shower slip ons. So when Li told us she had news, and we better gather around to listen, the twelve of us did. Right away.

“There is a crazy dog in the village. It has killed four people,” she announced as she sat cross legged in the traditional Hmong black leg warmers on the cement patio floor of the homestay abode we had finally reached.

“Is she talking about a rabid dog?” I asked my friend Debbie in a hushed tone so I wouldn’t get reprimanded. Seriously? And I had been worried about the mamma water buffalo that seemed irritated when I inadvertently cut off her baby on the rice terrace trail.

“Do not go into the village. If you walk in the village and the dog bites you, it is your fault not mine. I tell you now,” Li said.

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Being Followed by a CaoDai Deputy

Posted on June 23, 2014 by sglaser

Tây Ninh Province, Vietnam, May 2014

Slapping a closed silk fan into his outstretched palm, a slight, elderly CaoDai devotee wearing a white tunic, white trousers and sporting a low, jaunty black turban, fires off loud Vietnamese to Binh, our interpreter and tour guide. The devotee follows us as we pad barefooted through the sanctuary of the largest CaoDai temple in the world, located in Vietnam’s Tây Ninh Province.

According to Binh, who occasionally glances up from reading the CaoDai reference book I brought from the US, the old man is with temple security. He wears a yellow, blue and red striped armband (oddly resembling the Colombian flag), which indicates his position. The CaoDai bouncer continues his lecture as he walks with us, making a whapping sound every time he bangs the fan into his hand.

I’m fairly certain my friend, Debbie, and I have upset him. It could have been the photos we took earlier of worshippers kneeling and holding their bent arms in a triangular formation with their hands clasped together at their foreheads.

The trippy temple.

It’s tempting to document everything in the “Holy See,” the headquarters of CaoDai, a blended religion that incorporates primary tenets of Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity and Judaism. According to University of Southern California anthropologist and CaoDai scholar, Janet Hoskins, the syncretistic sect attracts more than six million followers worldwide.

The exterior of the temple features balconies, curled pagoda style roof edges, minarets and statues of saints. Constructed from the early 1930s to the mid 1950s, the building reflects architectural influences from the various religions it represents.

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Signs of the Times: SCARY stuff at the Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport.

Posted on June 19, 2014 by sglaser

Hey everybody, I’m sorry I’ve been absent from Travel Oops and neglectful of the WordPress community. In May, I traveled to Vietnam to get more material and mishaps (definitely that was a given — just trying to cross the street in Saigon was comedy.) At any rate, to jump back in, I’m sharing some gems from the Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport. By the way, although I was only in the airport on a layover, I’m sure Taiwan is a lovely place to visit.

Sign at arrival gate at the Taipei Airport.

Taipei, Taiwan, May 2014. It’s not like I travel with cocaine in my colon, but there is something VERY disconcerting about the above drug trafficking sign nevertheless.

Then there are the escape contraptions. These signs were not comforting, especially since the day before my friend Debbie and I arrived in Taiwan, a massive stabbing spree had taken place in the Taipei metro. I’m curious as to whether these escape routes have been tested.

Is this an escape laundry chute? Are your travel frocks that stinky??

The Escape Sling is definitely intriguing. I wonder what the punishment is for inadvertently using it. Actually, I don’t want to know…..

Travel Oops: Leaving my beach bag at the Market Lady’s stall in Bali

Posted on April 12, 2014 by sglaser

© R. Stacker (https://www.flickr.com/photos/jonasphoto/)

Sanur, Bali, 2010.

After taking another tasty, turmericy bite of Nasi Goreng, Indonesia’s version of fried rice, and sipping a semi warm Bintang, I look up and see her. The Market Lady—she is standing, waiting just at the sandy edge of the beach restaurant where we are eating in Sanur, Bali. As I make eye contact, she smiles and waves. Waving back, I look down at my rice.

“Kurt, the Market Lady is staring at us.” I tell my husband, since, from his plastic patio seat, his back is to her. “She’s following us.”

“Well, you told her we’d come back to her store.”

© Kermitz1 (https://www.flickr.com/photos/kermitz/9035768437/)

He is right. Earlier in the day, on our way to play in the Indian Ocean, we walked through a marketplace near the beach in Sanur. Despite the lack of customers, it was full of stalls with proprietors selling items, including wind chimes, kites, scarves, batik sarongs, bags, T-shirts, jewelry, straw hats and beach mats. Most of the shopkeepers were middle-aged women.

Sweating, Kurt and I trundled through with our kids, Eddie and Kasey, and lugged all our beach gear as one of the women approached us and gestured toward her store. She wore a turban-like head wrap, button down blue shirt, a gold and black batik printed sarong, as well as faded red plastic flip flops.

© Cameron Adams (https://www.flickr.com/photos/themaninblue/4542887953/)

“Come, I have beautiful things to show you. I will make you a good price,” she announced. Limp tendrils of hair, which had escaped the wrap, stuck to her forehead; her temples glistened. When she smiled, her eyes crinkled and she exuded calm, which wasn’t surprising, really, since the entire island of Bali seemed to project that particular personality trait.

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Travel Oops — Memorable New York Moments

Posted on December 19, 2013 by sglaser

The clean version of Times Square. © Terabass

Gaping at the emerging New York cityscape through our smudgy cab window, I lurched to the side when the vehicle careened over into the next lane. Our cab driver leaned out his open window.

“What the hell? Get the FUCK out of my way!” He let go of the steering wheel with his left hand and flung it out the window with his middle finger completely erect. “You gonna CUT me off? (Rhetorical question, I guess.) You gonna cut ME off? We veered back into our lane, and I’m pretty sure there was screeching. I believe we burned rubber.

The cab driver leaned back out the window “You wanna die young?” He finally brought his head back in and to no one in particular, concluded, “Stick it up you ass.”

There was silence for at least a full awkward minute.

“So how long are you guys in New York?”

In the back seat, while my parents shared expressions of sheer shock, I looked over at my sister and our eyes both got wide.

AWESOME. TOTALLY awesome. It was like a scene out of a movie, and we had only been in New York a mere 30 minutes.

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Signs of the Times: Happy Trails? I think not…

Posted on December 4, 2013 by sglaser

YIkes! I don’t think I’ll go any further.

Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado, USA.

This is one way to keep people from tromping off the path — and, really, ON the path as well. Notice in the photo below that there is a bench right in the poison ivy patch. Good thing poison ivy is a perennial.

I think I stand, from a distance, thank you!

Have a seat? I think I’ll stand, from a distance, thank you!

Travel Oops: The ‘Tomato Sauce’ Tirade

Posted on October 26, 2013 by sglaser

The source of my ethnocentrism. Tomato sauce. © Amy Frazier

Tomato sauce. That’s what made me go epically ethnocentric when I lived in Adelaide, Australia, for one year as an exchange teacher. I didn’t mean for it to happen, especially since, frankly, Oz is awesome, and I started thinking perhaps I was more Aussie than American. Plus, I’ve always tried to embrace various cultures, respect different customs and avoid going down Ethnocentric Avenue. After all, I once ate an entire portion of hideous headcheese in Paris for lord’s sake.

“We Gonna Rock Down to ‘Ethnocentric Avenue’”

Of course, culture shock is completely normal, and it’s to be expected that travelers will, in some way, compare the country they are visiting to their own. The international non-profit organization, Unite for Site, which relies on volunteers to help with global eye care health in remote villages, has a great explanation of culture shock:

No matter how open-minded or accepting, all travelers are susceptible to culture shock; for their means of interacting effectively with society have been knocked out from under them. Even seasoned travelers are vulnerable to culture shock when traveling to an unfamiliar foreign country. What begins as discomfort and confusion subtly progresses to frustration, anxiety, irritability, loneliness, and withdrawal.

Unite for Site also warns about the dangers of ethnocentrism, which they define as “the unconscious presumption that there is one normal, single way of doing things, and that deviations from this universal order are wrong.”

An American roundabout. They actually make much more sense.

The most adjusted travelers, in my opinion, also get ethnocentric about certain aspects of culture — usually over small things. At least that’s what happened in my case — when I had a tantrum over something trivial. It’s definitely a moment I cringe about now.

I actually thought I might lose it over driving through roundabouts, which terrified me every time they appeared in the road. Even my young kids knew this. “My mom hates roundabouts,” Eddie and Kasey would tell their new Australian friends.

While scary, roundabouts, I had to admit, were practical and more efficient than four way stops.

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Signs of the Times: See A Mountain Lion? Put Up Your Dukes…

Posted on October 13, 2013 by sglaser

Utah and Colorado. Wildlife is great and all, and who doesn’t want to see animals in their natural habitat? There is something disconcerting, however, when you see these kinds of signs in the areas you will be camping or hiking. It’s even worse that the advice they post is pretty dang ridiculous — in that you’d actually be able to perform these death prevention techniques. Continue reading →

Travel Oops: “Und Now Ve Dance…”

Posted on September 24, 2013 by sglaser

Cologne (Köln), Germany, May, 1995

The ill-fitting, bulky black pleather pants seemed suctioned to and definitely gripped to our German tour guide’s legs.

Meanwhile, the yellow tinted John Lennon glasses he wore had migrated down his glistening nose. He unbuttoned his tweed jacket, revealing a black T-shirt that covered a bit of a paunch.

Mike Myers as Dieter

He looked like a portlier version of comedian Mike Myers’s Saturday Night Live character, “Dieter,” from “Sprockets,” the comedy sketch about an avant-garde German talk show host who suggests to guests: “Und now ve dance” with spasmodic, pseudo techno, pre-twerk moves.

I was glad tour guide Dieter’s boss let him wear vinyl and black rather than some green and red lederhosen knickers nightmare. That, no doubt, would have completely crushed tour guide Dieter’s spirit.

While it was not a good look, the fact that he unbuttoned his jacket was the only sign, however, that Dieter may have overheated. He wasn’t, for a moment, going to let anyone see him crack as the result of an unseasonably warm day in Cologne, Germany, and some non-breathable plastic threads.

Kölner Dom, Cologne’s impressive Gothic cathedral.

Without looking, he motioned toward the Kölner Dom, a UNSECO World Heritage Site and the largest Gothic cathedral in Northern Europe, as if it was nothing more than his parents’ basement. He then briefly mentioned something about the Cologne Cathedral being bombed 14 times, almost to the ground, by fighter planes in the early 1940s. He did not add that this was during World War II.

It was pretty clear that Dieter did not want to be leading Americans, or rather any tourists, on a walking tour of Cologne. But that was his job. I wondered what compelled him to do something he obviously loathed. Did he do this to fund a laser light show that he synchronized to dripping faucets? Or perhaps he needed to finance his Kraftwerk cover band or maybe he needed to buy acrylics for his modern art collection entitled: “Schwarze Kreise auf Schwarzem Hintergrund” (Black Circles on Black Backgrounds)

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