I visited Hong Kong (HK) at the end of 2013 en route to Malaysia for my buddy’s wedding.
The one thing that is important to me about travel is food and HK is one of the best places in the world to get some delicious Cantonese cuisine. Lin Heung Tea House is the oldest dim sum joint in HK and I would highly recommend anyone visiting HK to make a trip there just for the experience of sitting at community tables with strangers and soaking in the chaotic moments when the dim sum carts get wheeled out from the kitchen with a variety of fresh, succulent dim sum dishes before the swarms of hungry people engulf the staff, creating a quick vanishing act for all the dishes. I witnessed a cart not even make it 5 meters out the door before it went back in, empty, within minutes. It’s not for the passive. One has to assert one’s self in these hungry crowds and wrestle one’s way into the front and get the staff’s attention to acquire a dish of your choosing. There is no line. And people expecting someone to attend to their needs at the tables will most certainly go hungry. Be proactive. And don’t forget to enjoy a cup of delicious hot tea served in big, traditional bowl-sized tea cups and nod at your neighbors (or engage them if you can speak Cantonese), most of who won’t pay attention to you as they chat with their family/friends and/or read the morning papers. For more upscale dim sum, visit Maxim’s Palace which is somewhat hidden away (take a taxi if you must). There, one can experience a completely different dim sum experience. There is order, there is peace. People are seated and the carts do reach the masses, wheeled slowly by the staff as they go table to table, asking if you’d like to check out their wares. Be warned: Maxim’s Palace is much pricier. Personally, food that must be fought for tastes better. I would return to Lin Heung the next time I’m in HK.
Took a while to get this crossed off the bucket list but it finally happened.
Went to San Marcos with a coworker and his buddy. Arrived 2 pm, geared up around 5, jumped out around 5:15 with my tandem instructor Chris and my videographer Yoshi.
Felt tiny bit of nerves prior to arrival but then again, doing any new activity is always like that. To be honest, I didn’t feel anything but excitement when I was on the plane and ready to get thrown off.
It all went by real quick and was a blur. Here’s the video of my jump:
I wanted to impress the locals with my rudimentary command of French but in the end, nobody had time to entertain a tourist. They just want to do their jobs and get on with life. Fair enough.
Unless I was planning on going out of the city, I don’t think knowing French is really needed. The Québécois are still Canadian and they need to know how to converse with their fellow Canadians from non-Quebec regions.
What’s there to do in Montreal and Quebec City (QC)? Walk around. Take the subways. Ride a bike everywhere. Eat.
I didn’t take many pics of Montreal itself. A subway looks like a subway. A row of shops looks like a row of shops. Nothing truly stood out as different. I’m not saying it wasn’t a great city; it had a great vibe and its own identity which leaned more toward young and hip. It’s worth a visit and in another life, I could even find myself living there.
Quebec City was a short 2.5 hour drive from Montreal and worth a night’s stay. More than that and it could feel long. Much of the interesting sights are concentrated in one tiny area in QC, the tourist district which includes everything below.
TIP: I would absolutely recommend that a visitor make reservations at ‘Restaurant Aux Anciens Canadiens‘ for lunch and asking for the ‘table d’hote‘, which is the set lunch menu, to get a good feel of Quebecois cuisine, such as the meat pie below. You can see a screenshot of the restaurant’s menu HERE.
Also, according to locals, for the best poutine in QC, visit ‘Chez Ashton’, which is a fast food chain. Order the poutine only.
My coworker and friend Brent gave me a CD last week that he recorded with his band. The album was called ‘Life Beneath The Waves’. On its cover, we the viewer see a scuba diver from the underside. The sun is showing just above the water.
I asked him if he could sign it with “Happy Travels” and he did.
I listened to it on the way back from work today. The album’s namesake ‘Life Beneath The Waves’ came on. And throughout the song, the melody and lyrics touched me like few songs do. It sang about not wanting the big house, the big car. It sang about how it’s nice to just be free beneath the waves. That song put a big, fat smile on my face all the way home. I had to play it on repeat.
I’ve spoken about my diving trips to friends. Often times, they have no interest in it or just can’t relate to the feeling one gets being 30 feet underwater, seeing a different world go by. I feel sad that many won’t ever experience this world because they either have no interest or are too afraid to try it.
I was walking along the coast of Manila when I came upon the local marina. Half of it was filled with small yachts and the other half was littered with old wooden fishing boats. That one image, in my mind, summed up Manila.
I had wanted to explore Philippines in more detail but Super Typhoon Haiyan messed up my plans. No Coron (no diving in beautiful waters), no Bohol (no Tarsier monkeys), no Donsol (no swimming with the whale sharks).
My hostel was located in Makati district. It was clean and A/C-ed but like most hostels, the quality of your stay will be dependent on your roommates. One night, I was trying to sleep when 2 guys busted in with their bags, turning on the lights and chatting away. With them came a smell (that I would later figure out to be body odor) that was so foul it wouldn’t go away, even after they took a shower. It was not easy trying to get back to sleep as these guys had no consideration whatsoever for their roommates.
The next morning, I found a group of about 12 black people downstairs, eating breakfast. They spoke English but with very unique accents. I usually have a good ear for accents and having travelled extensively, I can sometimes pinpoint an area of the continent (and maybe even the country) where someone’s from but their accent was absolutely foreign to me. I asked the front-desk who these people were and where they’d come from. They were from Papua New Guinea, visiting Manila for a Christian convention. Of course, I applied and got a room transfer. I just couldn’t take that B.O. for another night.
On the streets of Manila, the first thing that really stood out were the vibrantly-decorated Jeepneys that zoom past you, honking its way down the streets, picking up passengers at every other intersection. These Jeepneys were leftover by American army after their time spent in the Philippines in WW2. The key to utilizing a Jeepney as public transport is to know what part of Manila you’re going, then look for the signs that are painted on the Jeepney’s sides. They tend to make quick stops so be ready. The “conductor” and driver won’t take the time to stop long enough to answer any of your questions about its route. Unless you’re a beautiful woman who speaks Tagalog. (Because every man will stop long enough to answer questions asked by beautiful women. It’s universal.) BTW, although English is a main language, I rarely heard it being spoken on the streets; most people revert to their native Tagalog.
It is very cramped inside the Jeepney. I hand my fare to the person next to me and they pass it down the aisle all the way to the conductor, sitting in the front with the driver. (Sometimes, the driver is the conductor. Talk about multitasking.) If there is change to be made, the conductor will pass it back down the aisle until it reaches your hands. The driver, I believe, will make it as a pro driver because he is very good at weaving in and out of heavy traffic at high speeds.
There is a variety of food in the Philippines but most of them are variations of foods I’ve had in Southeast Asia. But the one food I had to go seek out was “balut”, or aged duck embryos. It is a popular snack among the Filipinos (and I later learned, in other parts of Southeast Asia, including Vietnam and Cambodia, each with their own aging techniques which control the developmental completeness of embryos. Scientific-sounding enough?). “Balut” can be terrifying, especially with first-time consumers. Most people first eat visually. When they see a half-developed baby duck, what would they think?
I went to the local night-market to find this nasty-sounding snack. There were several stands which had plenty of them and plenty of people eating them. Some became amused when I started to ask about it and how to eat it. A foreigner trying “balut”? That, they had to see. I was taken through the process of removing the shell, exposing the embryo, and was then advised to sprinkle some salt and add a dash of vinegar to it. I then thought “Here goes nothing” and took a bite. It tasted a lot like… egg. What a surprise (not). Even the embryo portion merely tasted like hard-boiled yolk. It wasn’t that bad. I ate about 2-3 and called it a night. I could see the Filipinos around me were happy that I had passed the test. I was now one of them. (OK, that’s not true.)
Could I have done more in Manila? Sure, it’s a massive city. Do I like Manila? Not really, it’s a massive city. I will make it back one day though, for a visit to El Nido and Coron, as well as visit Bohol for those darn adorable looking Tarsier monkeys.
For all you travel bloggers out there, I am sure you are just like any other writer. You experience writer’s block. You need something to inspire your creative juices. This is the Invocation of the Muse, which I read from War of Art. Say it as a prayer before you write.
“O Divine Poesy, goddess, daughter of Zeus, sustain for me this song of the various-minded man who, after he had plundered the innermost citadel of hallowed Troy, was made to stay grievously about the coasts of men, the sport of their customs, good and bad, while his heart, through all the sea-faring, ached with an agony to redeem himself and bring his company safe home. Vain hope – for them. The fools! Their own witlessness cast them aside. To destroy for meat the oxen of the most exalted Sun, wherefore the Sun-god blotted out the day of their return. Make this tale live for us in all its many bearings, O Muse.” – from Homer’s Odyssey, translation by T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia)”
“If you find yourself criticizing other people, you’re probably doing it out of Resistance. When we see others beginning to live their authentic selves, it drives us crazy if we have not lived out our own.
Individuals who are realized in their own lives almost never criticize others. if they speak at all, it is to offer encouragement. Watch yourself. Of all the manifestations of Resistance, most only harm ourselves. Criticism and cruelty harm others as well.” – War of Art by Stephen Pressfield