While on the bus from Malaysia to Singapore, I reflected on all the Southeast Asian countries we’d traveled through.  Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore, in that order.  I realized that (excepting a small backwards step to Cambodia) we had been easing ourselves back into the first world with every new country we visited.

Once I started to look for them, I found arguments to support this theory everywhere.  Bathrooms steadily improved, from bucket-flushing in Laos to modern toilets in Thailand and beyond.  Hotel keys changed from big, metal skeleton keys to RFID-enabled plastic cards.  Safe drinking water was more readily available; we could once again drink from the taps in our Singapore hotel.  Internet access speed increased and wifi hotspots, while more prevalent, were also more often locked down and monetized.  English in Laos was only found in hostels and travel agencies, but by the time we arrived in Kuala Lumpur it was the de facto standard.  In Singapore, we could watch the local news (a novelty for us!) because the major newspapers and television news broadcasts were all in English.

Perhaps the most obvious indication that we were climbing back up to U.S. standards was the lessening number of scooters on the road.  It was literally impossible to view any stretch of road in Vietnam, no matter how short, and not see a motorcycle somewhere.  There were fewer in Cambodia, fewer still in Thailand.  By the time we arrived in Singapore, it was almost all cars again.

Anyone who has traveled extensively knows that reverse culture shock is a very real thing.  Setting aside the psychological problems that some travelers cope with after being in a third-world country long enough (being unable to share experiences with friends and family because they’re don’t care about or, conversely, are jealous of them; difficulty readjusting to “the daily grind,” etc.), there are many surprises – some good, some bad – waiting for you when you return home.  Toilet paper in public restrooms.  Drivers sticking to their lanes.  People showing up to appointments on time.  Having to make hundreds of choices in a grocery store.  High prices.  The constant barrage of advertising.

Personally, I’ve noticed it always takes me at least a week to stop mentally preparing my approach to each and every person in public.  How do I translate my question into Spanish?  What gestures can I make if they don’t understand me?  Shut up, brain!  I’m back in the States!  I can just ask in English!

(more…)

It was just before 6am when the tuk tuk we’d arranged the night before arrived.  We’d been waiting in the lobby with our bags.  I tossed them in and asked him to take us to the bus station.

We didn’t expect Phonsavanh to be so cold in the morning.  It must have been close to freezing and we were wearing shorts and sandals.  We never went over 30kph, but the tuk tuk was open to the elements and our teeth were chattering when we arrived at the bus station on the outskirts of town.

We showed our tickets and shoved our bags underneath the bus.  Oksana climbed aboard to claim our seats while I looked over the snacks at the station kiosks.  I started up a conversation with the only other tourists in sight.  Derek and Paulien were from the Netherlands and had just traveled through all the same places we’d been, going all the way back to Phuket, in Thailand.  When I asked them if they were going to Vietnam, too, they looked relieved.  It always feels good when you get independent verification about the bus you’re about to get on.

Shortly we were underway, but our driver took us on a tour of Phonsavanh before pointing us in the direction of Vietnam.  By the time we’d arrived at the border, I’d read a few chapters of my dog-eared copy of Kitchen Confidential and watched a movie on my iPhone.

The Laotian side was nothing more than a concrete corridor with a row of windows along one side.  Unaware of the protocol, Derek, Paulien, Oksana and I neglected to add our passports to the stack from our bus, so we were the last to get our exit stamps.  Bringing up the rear, we hefted our bags and hiked across the border.

The immigration office on the Vietnamese side was a different beast altogether.  High-ceilinged and full of echoes, we gawked a bit when we entered.  Instead of the loops and swirls of Laotian, the signage was written in a Roman-derived alphabet. The plentiful and peculiar accent marks were the only clue that one should not pronounce them without first learning more about the language.

Beyond the tall glass doors, a long counter sat in the sunlight.  As we entered, an official behind the desk pointed to a waiting area with rows of airport-style plastic chairs.  I set my bags down in front of one, turned back, and raised my eyebrows.  Here? (more…)

You can save hundreds of dollars, flying from Miami to Ecuador, if you create an itinerary with two plane changes in Colombia.

Arlo’s Travel Tip #17: Don’t do that.

My mom dropped us off at the airport in Norfolk, Virginia on Wednesday afternoon (she drove off in our Jeep, promising to take care of it while she stays in North Carolina.)  Our flight down to Miami was on a commuter jet, but it was so short, I didn’t mind at all.

We stayed overnight at the Miami Courtyard Marriott, which had the most magnificently comfortable bed!  Unfortunately, we stayed up half the night repacking our backpacks (and taking pictures for insurance purposes.)  Oksana was freaking out.  We only got 3 hours of sleep and were back at Miami International by 5:30am.

It didn’t take long before something went wrong.  The counter jockey at LAN airlines wouldn’t check our bags all the way through to Quito.  I’ve never had a problem like that with international flights, but he insistently mumbled something about Colombian regulations.  I asked if we were going to have to clear customs and immigration just to recheck our bags.  Again, he mumbled, “Colombian regulations”.

First flight was great!  Breakfast provided and seat-back movies on demand (Oksana watched Killers, I played just enough of The Other Guys to see the Tuna-Lion exchange again before enjoying the Cloony/J. Lo masterpiece, Out of Sight.)  When the flight attendant came along, handing out Colombian immigration forms, he almost passed us by.  I asked if we might need them to retrieve our bags.

“Why didn’t you check your bags all the way to Quito?” he asked.

“Because the person at the LAN counter told us we couldn’t.”

He shook his head slowly as he tore off two immigration forms.  “This is bad,” he said.  “This is bad.”

Oksana continued to freak out.

(more…)

Part the Second: Getting to Cuba

Because it’s so difficult for an American company to do business with Cuba, it can be quite an ordeal to find a flight from the U.S. If you’ve got all your Treasury ducks in a row, though, it is possible.

Believe it or not, there are plenty of run-of-the-mill, passenger flights out of Miami. From what I’ve been able to gather, most of them are filled with Cuban-Americans visiting their families. They can only get a visa for 21 days total in a year, though, and flights around Christmas are usually full. If you’re thinking about going to Cuba when it’s all chilly and cold up north – what better time? – then you better plan ahead and buy your tickets in September.

Gulfstream Air, Tico Travel, and Marazul Charters are some likely candidates to get you started. We used Tico Travel on our first trip and while they got us there and back, we had some hitches that made the trip more worrisome that it needed to be (although they made right with everything in the end.) Gulfstream is a company owned by Continental Airlines and we used them on our second trip. If things go well, expect to pay roughly $350 round trip from Miami to Havana. If plans blow up in you face, you can still get there for $9014!

Let me explain.

(more…)