After 515 days of travelling through South India, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Laos, North India, Burma and Vietnam, I’ve come out the other end of this voyage a much different person than the one I was when I waved my family goodbye at Darwin Airport on December 25, 2011. And now I post this final blog post from overseas, on the very last day of this amazing “holiday” (dubbed The Gypsy Tour by my family).

Talking about changes, for one – my body has changed: I’ve unfortunately gained more than 10 kilos as a result of the combined efforts of a dedicated foodie hellbent on sampling every tasty morsel each country has to offer, and a dysfunctional birth control contraceptive… If I’m honest this change does bother me but I know I’ll go home and hit the gym and eat normal food and soon be back to where I was before – I wouldn’t take back any of the amazing food
that I ate because who knows when I’ll get that chance again. My hair has thinned greatly, another result of the aforementioned birth control; but hey, it’ll grow back soon enough so I’m not too concerned. Although these above two changes were unplanned, I did also make a few conscious decisions to permanently change my body, none of which I regret at all. I now have 2 tattoos that I love; permanent reminders of my time overseas and memories I carry with me everywhere.

But despite all these obvious physical changes, I truly feel that the greatest change to this small town Aussie girl has occurred on the inside – in my heart, in my soul, and in my view of the world. I’ve learnt things about myself that I could never have hoped to have learnt without stepping out of my comfort zone, and releasing the safety switch on my life – that is, leaving the town I’d called home for everyday of my life up until 515 days ago.

Now I’m the person I want to be, not the person I was. And it’s a wonderful feeling to get out there in the world and meet people who have no idea about where you’re from, what you’ve done or who you are – and they love you for you. I’ve met some amazing people, people I could (and have) stayed awake with until the sun comes up talking, sharing, connecting… And I’ve bumped into some old friends during this trip and felt truly blessed that even after all the time and distance we can still pick things up right where we left off. So many friendships lose that sparkle, but I feel so blessed to have such great people in my life through it all. You know who you are

Lessons learnt as a Vagabond:
I learnt that I worry about the small things too much.
I learnt that I don’t need to physically be in the company of my loved ones to feel their love, and that I can survive just fine out in the big bad world on my own.
I learnt that I love being independent.
I learnt that you can spend everyday with the best person in the world, but eventually that person is gonna start to piss you off. Knowing when you’ve reached this point and need some time apart is paramount to successful tandem travel.
I’ve learnt that there is more important things than counting every cent.
I’ve learnt, also, that there is more important things than shelling out top dollar for all the fancy extras. Cheap places often hold the most character.
I’ve learnt that two people can have the exact same experience, but view it completely differently. It’s all about your attitude.
I’ve learnt that Asian countries do things different – but just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s wrong. There’s a method in their madness.
I’ve learnt that our governments have lied to us (especially America’s!)
I’ve learnt how to adapt to change. FINALLY.

I went to India expecting to hate it – Instead it was my favourite country of this whole trip and I can’t wait to go back a 3rd and probably 4th time. It’s something that needs to be experienced yourself to understand it – it’s definitely not the country I expected it to be. Amazing.

I went to Sri Lanka without even knowing that a giant tsunami destroyed so much of this beautiful island country, and the local people carry the scars of that loss everyday – they still haven’t recovered properly.

I went to Thailand thinking I knew what it was all going to be about after my last trip, but still learnt so much about the culture and the people (without even really scratching the surface of all the little quirks of Thai people).

I went to Laos very briefly for a visa run with no intention of learning anything, but visited the top rated Trip Advisor activity and had my eyes opened to their unfortunate past – the silent victim in the Vietnam War, Laos just happened to be a country in the wrong place at the wrong time and had millions of American bombs dropped on their peaceful country just because the pilots couldn’t find their target in Vietnam so they “offloaded” their unwanted bombs onto innocent Laos… Bombs are still going off today, and I had no idea.

I went to Burma (Myanmar) knowing nothing, just that there was a lady trying to free the oppressed people – and I met the kindest, most sincere and innocent people I’ve ever met. They have suffered great injustice by their own people, while the world sat by and let it happen (too busy interfering with other countries no doubt) – they are finally getting freed thanks to the amazing and unstoppable efforts of Aung San Su Kyi and it was so special to visit that country during such a pivotal time in their history.

I went to Vietnam knowing they had suffered loss during the Vietnam War, but I leave knowing SO much more about how deep the American’s war on this country has hurt and kill generations of Vietnamese. They are still hurting – between Agent Orange deformities on their babies and their daily interaction with rude foreigners, many locals have acquired a chip on their shoulder, but I have also seen some great kindness from some local people who just want to forgive and forget what happened. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here.

Times when I thought I had it all figured out on this trip, it all went to the dogs. And times when I thought for sure that I was going to die on a particularly dangerous bus ride, or I’d be spewing this questionable street food up for hours, or knew without a doubt that all our shit was about to be stolen – it never happened. I was told by a psychic just before this trip that I had a guardian angel looking out for me on this trip, keeping me safe and that this trip was going to change my life forever… She wasn’t wrong.

515 days, and it’s almost all over. 515 days and soon we will see faces we haven’t seen in years, and try to put into words all that has happened. I’m grateful that I know so many of my nearest and dearest follow our blog and have read about this incredible journey so they know through what I write, how we’ve felt about this journey… God knows I couldn’t say it in words any better than I have written here.

To the friends we’ve met along the way… Thanks for the memories.
To the family members and friends back home who cheer for us and are proud of everything we do and support us no matter what… Thank you for understanding and being patient.
To my family and all your weddings bringing me home early… I hope you know I bloody love you otherwise I wouldn’t be ending this amazing trip!

And to Brett… There are no words to express how much your love, constant support, encouragement and smiles mean to me. I can’t imagine my life with anyone else, ever. We are a great team and I am thankful everyday that I have you in my life.

So, it’s hometime. Guess I’ll be seeing you all real soon…

With love in my heart and tears in my eye, for the last time from foreign lands…

- Belle

We landed in Hanoi ready for action. And by action, I mean ready to eat everything in sight. I’ve always loved Vietnamese food, so I was very excited to eat how the locals eat – tasty soups which pack a punch in the flavor department, and also those Vietnamese fresh spring rolls with peanut dipping sauce that I love so much.
What we found was a little different.

For one, the most prevalent street food in the Old Quarter of Hanoi (where most of the tourists, including us, tend to flock) is big, crusty, delicious baguettes stuffed with pâté or doner kebab and salad, as a result of the French colonization in the 1800′s.

Not what I was expecting, and although they looked delicious (and our travel buddies insisted they were amazing), I was determined for my firs meal in Vietnam to be a traditional “pho bo” (beef soup) from a tiny local spot. I tracked one down, ordered a big bowl of steaming soup and prepared to have my mind blown.

I was sadly disappointed – the flavour was that of a soup anywhere back in Australia, there was no spice or “WOW” factor – it was just ok. Maybe so many spicy Thai meals for so long had numbed my taste buds, and I was traveling with friends who’d been living in Thailand for as long as I had so we all felt the same way about Vietnam’s almighty pho bo – it was just ok. And those fresh rice paper spring rolls were almost impossible to find, and even when I did track some down the rice paper was hard and chewy and not soft and wet. I gave up on the food hunt, and switched to drinking – after all we were in “Bia Hoi” country, where a particular area of Hanoi is home to streets lined with small bars selling glasses of 5000 Vietnamese dong (US$0.25c) ice cold beer till all hours. The kicker is that the seating at these bars are child-sized plastic tables and chairs, and big overgrown men struggle to delicately place themselves in those tiny chairs to drink the cheap beer, and inevitably start to get drunk after 10 or more beers (because at these prices, who’s really pacing themselves…) and end up on their asses after the frail little chairs finally give out. It’s like Vietnam’s revenge on the white invaders.

It’s a rowdy, busy atmosphere, with Vietnamese people hollering at passing tourists, drunk white people (usually Australians) talking too loudly and the music is cranking from nearby nightclubs… It’s like Friday afternoon every day.

The following morning we started a 3-day tour of the amazing Halong Bay. We’d chosen to go with a cheap-ish company – Central Backpackers charged us $110 for all 3 days and we were expecting bargain-basement accommodation for that price but we were pleasantly surprised with our boat cabin!

And the bungalows on the island were pretty sweet too.

The tour started with all 20 of us cramming onto a bus for a 3-hour journey to Halong Bay’s port, and 20 minutes into the journey two of our new American drinking buddies from the night before fell ill (hungover or food poisoning, the jury is still out) and lurched puddles of chunky vomit out the door of the bus, much to the driver and bus conductor’s disgust. We were quickly told if anyone needed to vomit, they would have to do it in a bag – if anyone dared to spew out the bus again we’d be charged for it. Oops. We were “those” people, the rowdy ones set to disturb the tranquil peace for all the tourists on the cruise – we didn’t know it then, but we later found out we were in the company of a whole cruise full of “those” people. We were in good company, and the 3 days of this cruise saw us all get very drunk very frequently, laughing till our sides hurt, partial nudity, gender-bending clothing swapping, shotgunning beers and drunken missions. Halong Bay was AWESOME with these guys.

The very afternoon that we returned to Hanoi from the Halong Bay trip, we hopped straight onto a overnight sleeper bus bound for Sapa for a 2-day hike through rice plantations, mountains, bamboo fields and villages.

We had an overnight stay in a local villager’s home, with a spread of amazing food washed down with shots of rice wine with our Sapa “mum & dad” – this old couple loved having us stay with them, and they kept the rice wine shots coming. Things got crazy, and by 6am we woke up to the sound of Sapa Dad spewing into the pond, and he was too hungover to even wake up and say goodbye – haha. Safe to say they never had a homestay like us!

After Sapa we returned to Hanoi once again and took to a week of solid drinking, hangovers, eating and occasional sight seeing trips – those 25c beer bars are hard to beat. Eventually we tore ourselves away to head to Hue, a small city featuring the Citadel… We saw the main sights, got lost, then booked a 3-day Easy Rider motorbike trip to Hoi An for the following day. We had wanted to drive the bikes ourselves but it seems being the passenger is all the rage here, and the guides said you can appreciate the view more if you’re a passenger. We were set to snake up and down mountainsides all through the Central Highlands, and follow the famous Ho Chi Minh Trail, and the turns can be tricky. We were pumped.

The trip got off to a shaky start… The guy we’d met and decided to go with for the tour was unavailable, but he said “little brother” will take us, very good guide… We strapped our huge backpacks on the back, and off we went. By we didn’t get too far before I felt the backpack strapped behind me go tumbling down the road behind us, and Brett’s driver had to swerve to miss it… “Little Brother” hadn’t tied it off properly. Thankfully Brett’s laptop and cologne bottles survived the rough landing. The second warning came when Little Brother & I were on the bike about to take off, and he accelerated and tried to turn around but lost control and dropped the bike on us.. No harm done but I was a little skeptical of his abilities after that.

Little Brother was a furious honker, like most Vietnamese people – and driving quickly down a long highway he’s beeping to all the other drivers on the road, and then swerves suddenly to the left and into a huge semi-trailer truck’s path… The truck driver honked and swerved, and even the truckie’s passenger was hanging out the window trying to hit my driver, hurling abuse until he was out of view… He almost got me bloody killed! At the next stop Brett wished me luck before getting back on the bike… This guy was outta control.

Thankfully it had already been pre-arranged that the owner of the bike company would take over from “Little Brother” after we visited the DMZ (De-Military Zone, a great insight into the North/South Vietnam’s war, and definitely worth checking out) – I think they knew he wasn’t a suitable 3-day guide. The charming and happy Mr Tu transferred my bags to his waiting bike, clipped Little Brother over the ear for dropping our bag, called him a “ladyboy” and then off we went. I felt infinitely safer with the more experienced, more calm and focused Mr Tu. The trip only improved from there, and the sunset views from the winding mountains surrounding the Ho Chi Minh Trail as we came into Khe Sahn were awesome. We pulled over to take some photos and after studying me for a moment, Mr Tu says to me, “So are you two married, or friends, or…?” he took a drag of his cigarette and points his finger at me, like he’s figured me out: “… Because you look like a dragon.”

I laughed, (like what the hell did he just say I look like a dragon?) and said no not married, but together a long time. He then went on to explain that in Vietnamese culture, your girlfriend is your dragon, all full of fire, but if you marry her she becomes your tiger. He said, “Me – I’m a monkey. I’m all “ooh ooh ahh ahh very funny” until the tiger growls and I go running up a tree. That’s why if I’m coming home without any money I always walk in the house backward, so when the tiger growls I can just GO!”. He also told us all about his complicated love life: “See me, I have a dragon AND a tiger. My Dragon lives in France now, and My Tiger doesn’t know about her. But I had my dragon before I met my tiger, so that makes it OK. You see?! Ha ha!” – very funny dude.

The next morning we visited the nearby US Army Base, bought my lil brother a real bullet from the War, got a jolt of energy from the very strong local Vietnamese coffee and we hit the road again.

We were followed by big black rain clouds for most of the second day, and had to pull over twice to frantically pull on protective rainclothes before we got drenched; but the rain never really came down. We spent the night in a small town just outside of a village in the mountains, where we spent some time getting to meet the kids and the families that live there, chewing on cinnamon bark torn from a nearby tree, and giving out notebooks to the kids for school (the government doesn’t supply them, so our driver buys these for the kids when he comes past). Evening time we had some beers and listened to Mr Tu’s memories from the war (he was 4-5 years old when the War started), and his tales about his “Dragon” and his “Tiger” and why his Dragon will always have his heart. Loves the ladies this guy!

By the end of the 3-day tour we arrived in Hoi An, and after finding us a sweet hotel for our stay here our guides dropped us off at “the best wonton shop in town”, a little local street shop with long wooden tables and benches.

Not only were the wontons delicious, but everything on the menu was amazing – we ate here sometimes twice a day, everyday, for our entire time in Hoi An. The amazing Vietnamese cuisine I was looking for was found here, and the food kept improving as we got further south – or maybe I got better at ordering haha. Oh and I found those delicious fresh rice paper rolls with the sweet soy peanut dipping sauce I’d been looking for, and infact I am living on a solid diet of these. So good.

We were really loving the hotel Mr Tu had found for us in Hoi An, and in the process of researching good restaurants on tripadvisor.com I thought I’d quickly check the reviews of our awesome hotel… I was quickly shocked then alarmed to find that ours was the worst rated hotel on Tripadvisor, with scalding reviews such as “RUN, DON’T WALK, AWAY FROM THIS HOTEL!” and almost every review saying their belongings were stolen out of their room from the cleaning staff, reception staff would refuse to give back your passport unless you paid exhobirant extra fees for things you didn’t buy.. Someone even said a guests guide dog was stolen from her while she slept! Hard to believe, but still worrying. Luckily Brett & I are old hat at this travel business, and had already chosen not to hand our room key over to reception when we left the room – many guests reported that when they gave their key to reception, they’d come back to find their valuables stolen and reception staff refusing knowledge of receiving the key, and thus charging the robbed guests a pricey “lost key” fee as well as refusing to help get their belongings back. It also helped that we’d been hanging out by the pool all day with our room doors and windows wide open, music turned up and nothing of value on display when curious staff had walked past – we made it seem like we had nothing worth stealing so they had no idea us cheap backpackers had a lot of gadgets, cameras, iPad, computer, etc. Even so, we booby-trapped the door overnight, padlocked and bike-locked our valuables to the bed and hoped for the best. Sure it would have been easier to just change hotels… But man I really liked that pool!

We survived 4 nights without any of the booby-traps going off, and we checked out on the final day without a hitch… God knows how haha. After check out we went back to our trusty faithful wonton shop, and spent a few hours being taught how to cook our favourite dishes on their menu (and then getting to feast on the tasty morsels) for just $15. We’d looked into some of the big organized cooking classes which were twice or three times the price, with 40 or so other people, but I reckon we got incredible value for a private lesson from a really sweet Vietnamese girl and 4 courses of food.

They even threw in an AMAZING free chocolate and banana pancake at the end… God knows how we fit it in after all the other food we cooked and ate.

After a relaxing manicure & pedicure we hopped on our last overnight bus EVER (Yessssss!) to the nearby tourist beach town of Nha Trang. We had intended to spend a couple of nights in Nha Trang but we decided to skip it in favour of spending some time in the less-touristy town of Mui Ne, at the insistence of our motorbike guide. We did have a couple of hours in Nha Trang to check out the city, and wandered down to the beach at sunrise to watch the swarms of Vietnamese people exercising, walking, swimming, doing tai chi and any other organized group fitness you can imagine. These Vietnamese really keep in shape!

By lunchtime we’d arrived in the city of Dalat, 4 hours away from Nha Trang, a cute little town in the mountains with a much cooler climate than the rest of Vietnam – I do so love me some cool weather after so long of being sweaty hot. We met up with some Canadian friends from Hanoi and checked into a sweet hotel, ate too much and checked out the city for a few days. Next on the list was Mui Ne, a cool beach town just north from Saigon. We spent a couple days here relaxing on the beach (well, I did.. Brett hates the sand and somehow even managed to get sunburnt in the 5 minutes he came down to talk to me on the beach!), drinking $2 bottles of local rum and cruising around the sand dunes on quad bikes. Guaranteed hangover cure!

Soon we’d made it all the way to the south, and arrived in the bustling big city of Saigon, now renamed Ho Chi Minh City after the famous “Uncle Ho”. We found home at a sweet little guesthouse in the middle of District One, called Ly Loan Guesthouse – ran by a super friendly Vietnamese woman and her family, with the recent addition of her cute chubby little baby boy. These guys were so nice, which was a refreshing change because we’d become kind of jaded by the number of Vietnamese people who are only nice to you to try and get some money out of you. We got some lunch and then checked out the War Remnants Museum, and were appalled and shocked at some of the imagery on display – dead conjoined twin baby feotus as a result of Agent Orange contamination in their grandparents generation – this is 2 generations later and babies are still dying. Photos of the American soldiers posing with the heads of the Vietnamese people they’d killed, thumbs up smiling, really painted an awful picture. I never realized it was as brutal as all that.

We’d planned to spend a couple of days in Saigon then 2 days checking out the Mekong Delta area before retreating to Phu Quoc Island for the last of our days, but after a particularly-touristy half day tour of the Cu Chi war tunnels, being led around like cattle we just couldn’t be bothered with another tour. The tunnels were cool, and getting to fire a few rounds from a AK47 at the tunnels for $15 was a fun experience, but we’re not big “tour” people and we just couldn’t face the idea of another 2-day tour – plus we’d already thoroughly explored some authentic war tunnels all to ourselves on the motorbike trip, which were way cooler. So we skipped the Mekong Delta and headed straight for Phu Quoc Island, opting to splurge $50 each way for flights instead of another all night bus to the boat dock, because the only thing we’re more sick of than tours is uncomfortable overnight buses. We’re on the home stretch now, and those buses just seem more awful as we get closer and closer to being done with backpacking for a while. Oh, listen to me complain! Tisk tisk (it’s not really that bad).

Phu Quoc island is great – we got a sweet little bungalow on the beach for just $15 a night, with our own little balcony and big 4-poster bed. I’ve spent days playing in the sand and watching the clouds, soaking up the last few days of sunny beachside life, imagining what’s in store after this chapter is done… While Brett stayed in the room hiding from the sun for fear of getting sunburnt haha. Poor kid isn’t having much luck lately, it’s like the universe knows he’s over it all and keeps raining on his parade. Currently he’s sunburnt, covered in mosquito bites, hot, sweaty and refuses to cool off in the ocean – so safe to say he’s actually excited to get back to Australia. At least that’s one of us!

So we’ve got a few more days in sunny Phu Quoc, before we fly back to Saigon for one last day of tasty Vietnamese food, fresh $1 smoothies and cheap massages and manicures… Then on Wednesday May 22nd at 8.35am we board a plane bound for Melbourne… And the gypsy tour is over.

But fear not, I’ve been a busy bee lately writing some “trip wrap-up” blog posts so I’m not done harping on and on about how awesome this trip has been. But for those of you sick of hearing about it… The end is in sight haha.

See you soon Australia!

- Belle

I’ve touched on this topic before, but as Bretto & I near the end of our 18-month “Big Trip”, I feel the need to reflect on what we’ve learnt and how we’ve grown, and changed, from long term travel together.

Long term travel can either solidify or disintegrate the bond in your relationship. Actually, there is an option 3 worth adding; where you embark on long-term travel together and think “this is gonna be AWESOME!” yet it proves more challenging than either of you expected, and you return home with the attitude of “Well, that was an experience. I’m glad we did it, but I sure as hell don’t want to do that again in a hurry”. And that’s ok too – the experience will still see you grow as a couple, hopefully without costing you your relationship. I’ll never forget the first day of our Spanish lessons, before Brett & I took our first Big Trip to South America together – upon telling our spanish teacher that we were a couple, together for 2 years, she tutt-tutted skeptically and told us a tale of some previous students of hers, a freshly-engaged loved-up couple who went to South America before their wedding and it ended horribly – she ended up falling in love with a Brazilian man and left her poor lover behind. I know she meant well, sharing this story – but it kind of gave me a scare.

My first thoughts on this topic would be about how much we’ve learnt about each other, and how much tolerance and compromise you need to have to survive living on top of each other, spending every minute together, going through bad moods and illness and rarely being apart…I’m sure some people assume a holiday alone together is all rainbows and butterflies and 24 hour romance but it’s really not. Sure we have periods, months on end sometimes, where we’re totally blissed out in love, like our first few months in Chiang-Mai – where we had all these awesome new friends whom we WANTED to spend time with, but so often we were just so happy hanging out in our little home together spending time with each other – we didn’t want the bubble to burst.

But then there were other times, when every word the other person spoke seemed like the stupidest, most annoying comment to make, and we couldn’t wait to put some distance between us. But after so long being together, we understand that we feel that way not because of the other person’s actions, but because I (or he) was in a bad mood and we were reacting in a negative way. You learn about each others faults and flaws very quickly, and there’s no pretending to be someone you’re not – If you’re a total grub of a person posing as a clean freak to impress your clean freak partner, the jig is up when you travel alone together. Nobody can fake it that long.

And there’s times where we feel like we’ve discussed every single moment in both of our lives to death, and there’s nothing new to talk about and I think “Geez what’s it gonna be like when we’re 80?!”… Then 5 minutes later we’re both talking so much we’re talking over each other. We have endless “private jokes”, silly little sayings, songs we sing when we’re alone and enough funny memories to last a lifetime. We’ve even got our own secret language: a jumbled mix of Thai, Spanish, Hindi and a little Vietnamese that we’ve learn in our travels. I’m sure we make no sense when around other people sometimes.

We’ve been doing a lot of reflecting the past couple of weeks, knowing this trip is almost at the end… Reflecting on what we’ve done, and what we’ve learnt about each other. We’re very lucky to still be so in love, sick in love sometimes, even after spending so much time with just each other. Travel has most definitely solidified our relationship, and we’re lucky that after almost 6 years we’re still happy and heading in the same direction – it breaks my heart to see people who care for each other but realize they are heading in different directions and want different things.

And no, there’s no ring or babies coming (sorry Mum). As much as we love each other and want to be together forever and all that jazz, I don’t see the need for us to go down that path. Sure it’d be nice to score a big rock and have people finally stop asking when it’s gonna happen, but they aren’t good enough reasons for us to justify doing it. I feel like getting married for the wrong reasons is worse than never doing it at all. I’m of the opinion that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and my relationship is just fine. As for babies… I just want to play with everyone else’s, I’m in no hurry for my own. Don’t let the Kindergarten teacher in me fool anyone, I love to play and hand them back – haha. If I ever go down that road it’ll be when I’m ready to commit my life completely to that kid… And right now that’s not where I’m at.

So this went from tips on traveling together to an update on my relationship, but hey. There’s just 6 days left and I’m feeling thoughtful and thankful for this kid and the impact he’s had on my life, and how awesome traveling together has been for us. I can’t wait for the new chapter of our lives, wherever we end up!

- Belle

Ok guys so I’ve done one of these for all the countries previous, so I feel obligated to do Thailand as well. Here goes:

If I had to choose what in my opinion constitutes Thailand’s “Top 3″ obsessions – They would be celebrating; eating rice and/or noodles; and the “Wai”. The first one is pretty obvious, celebrating; Thai people love to celebrate. Whether its with a huge waterfight for Thai New Year, or other popular Buddhist celebrations – or even holidays they don’t recognize or really understand, like Christmas or Halloween – these guys just love an excuse to chuck a party. And why not? They don’t let anything get them down for too long, it’s against their religion – and they love to have fun.

Eating rice and noodles – infact, I wanted to just make this eating ANYTHING because they eat all day. Small meals, sure… But they seem to put away a lot of food (fried foods especially) without ever getting fat. Lucky genes I suppose.

The last is the Wai, a very important custom in Thai culture. It’s all about hierarchy in Thailand – whoever is deemed the Poo Yai (eldest and/or most senior figure in the group/family) must be respected, obeyed, and provide for the younger ones. More on the Poo Yai explanation here: http://sticky-rice.com/poo_yai.html

In regards to wai’s, you should always respect the order and follow protocol – the younger person always wai’s first; but not too early, as the older person must be able to Wai back within a certain time. If you’re meeting someone for the first time, they appreciate your respectful gesture if you Wai. Didn’t get a Wai? Maybe that’s a sign too. It’s all very calculated and specific, and I find it really interesting.

Belle’s favourites list

Favourite town: Pai, Northern Thailand
Favourite city: Chiang-Mai, of course!
Favourite beach: Chaloklum beach, Koh Phangan
Favourite memory: Songkran Festival 2013
Favourite quote: Mai Bpen Rai – it means “Don’t worry about it” or words to that effect. I also love “Gin Kwai Dai” which means “I could eat a buffalo” – the Thai version of “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse”. Haha – I love it.
Favourite experience: Yeeping Festival for Loi Krattong, in October 2012. Tens of thousands of large paper lanterns simultaneously released in a giant field after hours of Buddist rituals… It was magical. Unforgettable.
Biggest surprise: believe it or not, driving a scooter in the big cities is not as hard as it seems! And I’m glad I got some more confidence on a bike.
Biggest letdown: If I had to choose one, it would be that beef salads aren’t as popular or as prevalent as I’d hoped! Back home, I always ordered (or made at home) what’s often called a Thai beef salad, and dreamt of coming to Thailand to try the real thing. I think I maybe found 2 the whole time I was there. The locals live on noodles, and the salads are mostly pork or chicken (that I could find anyway). Not really a big letdown, but I don’t really have a lot of complaints about this country!

I think you all can tell I am head over heels in love with this country. I know my complaining about having to leave makes my Mum feel guilty for dragging me away, but I’d be lying if I said it was no big deal. I’d previously visited Thailand in 2009 with Brett (his maiden voyage out of Australia) and thought it was great, but I was seeing Thailand through the eyes of a tourist who doesn’t understand the culture and the people. I am much more aware of how this country works now, thanks to the local people who have taken the time to explain it. I’m no expert, but I know the value of a wai (Thai wave) to an elder person and I understand the thought process behind so many of their actions much more now, which makes my whole experience living here so much more enjoyable. They do things different, sure… But they have their reasons. Sometimes it makes more sense than our way, we are just too stubborn to realise it.

- Belle

Oh, enough whinging.

The truth is I have had an awesome few days here in Vietnam on the back of a motorbike this week and I want to share it with you all, but I have to write the last blog post about Thailand before I can move onto Vietnam. So here goes.

After our 15 days in Burma, we headed 2-hours south from Bangkok to the tourist-soaked city of Pattaya for a weekend of fun. But the Thailand we had missed so greatly was not in Pattaya – I’m sorry, but anyone who has ever been to Pattaya and nowhere else has not seen the real Thailand. I’m well aware that Pattaya is known for it’s high number of sex workers, but I was still amazed at how many Western (and Indian, oddly enough) white men there were roaming around, walking along the beach foreshore with their shirts off, bellies protruding, looking like king of the world. Which of course they probably think they are, and who am I to tell them otherwise. It’s a man’s world in Pattaya, and every pretty girl you see can be yours for a price. Still, it was a very beautiful town and we had a fun weekend.

So we returned to Chiang-Mai and begrudgingly started planning for our departure in 2 weeks time. We sold our scooter for the same amount we bought it for 9 months earlier (to an older Australian couple who’d just finished the exact same TEFL Course as us, oddly enough), I finished off my last week of Muay Thai boxing and even managed to sell my gym membership off for a very good price. Finally we packed up our 48 kilograms of stuff (Seriously, who knew we had that much junk?!) and sent it off by seamail. By Friday of our last weekend in Thailand, we’d gotten our full bond back for our condo and our house was packed up. All the jobs were done, and it was time to “Play Songkran”, as the locals called it.

I bought myself a big ass water gun for about $10, and decided to get revenge on the cheeky Thai’s who’d been drenching me all day. Songkran didn’t officially start until Saturday, but that didn’t stop these guys getting into the spirit of things early so I did as the locals did – took my water gun to the street outside a friends’ place, parked ourselves outside a little local store with cold beers and played Songkran with some friendly locals across the road. The eldest girl looked about my age with some party tunes blaring, and being that it was the Friday afternoon of the longest holiday on the Thai calendar, everyone was in a happy, playful Friday mood. As drivers cruised along our strip of street we blockaded the road and smiled sweetly at them, wished them a happy Songkran and dumped a bucket of water over them. Some people tried to resist, or argue why they can’t/don’t want to be wet, but it fell on deaf ears – everyone got drenched. My new friends thought I was one crazy farang, but they loved having me and my equally crazy farang friends join in the party with them (infact, they repeatedly called me into their home to force feed me Thai food with proud grins. Bless them).

Having a huge waterfight in the street all afternoon is all well and good, but we’d planned our own farewell party at our favourite steak restaurant so we soon had to head home to get cleaned up. Some friends from my hometown just happened to be visiting Chiang-Mai for the weekend, and although they were unaware that it was Songkran weekend they were keen to get involved. We headed out for a few drinks that night with our TEFL course buddies, then got up early (and slightly hungover) to head to the tourist hotspot Tha Phae Gate for the big Songkran party happening down there. Unfortunately we’d all underestimated how CRAZY INTENSE the streets of Chiang-Mai would be on this day – Thousands of people flooded the street; soaking cars, scooters and pick-up trucks loaded with partying Songkran’ers and traffic was almost at a complete standstill. We waited at the chosen meeting point for our friends from back home for 2 hours, before finally giving up and heading off to join the festivities ourselves (and later made numerous attempts to meet with our poor friends, who spent the whole day hopelessly lost outside the city and struggled with the crazy driving conditions on unfamiliar roads. It was not a happy Songkran for them!).

So we headed to a local bar where our buddies were already well into the swing of things, and we joined in a 4 hour waterfight war on the streets of Chiang-Mai, against anyone and everyone. It was such a happy, festive day – the tunes were great, everyone was in high spirits and everyone from toddlers to grandparents gleefully dumped ice cold buckets of water, or fired shots from a huge water cannon, or simply waved the hose onto the street: whatever means necessary, everyone soaked everyone. It was great.

The partying continued well into the night, and the following day as well… By Sunday afternoon I’d almost had enough of playing Songkran and being drenched everytime I left the house but you had to be a good sport about it – any resistance just brings more water your way. It made driving around to run errands on our last weekend quite difficult – no way was I risking driving the scooter on wet roads, in horrendous traffic, with bucketfuls of water being dumped on us from every direction. We saw one terrible accident, where a woman lost control after being drenched whilst speeding down a wet road and she didn’t get up again very quickly. It can be quite horrific, but luckily we stayed off the roads and stayed safe (So don’t worry, Mum & April!).

By Monday things were slowly starting to return to normal, but it was still very busy and people were still having waterfights everywhere. I had been invited to the parent’s house of one of my half Thai-half Australian Kindy students for an “Aussie barbeque” that afternoon, and before I’d even made it to the meeting point right next door to my condo where I was being collected (cos I sure wasn’t driving), I’d been drenched from head to toe and had to turn around to get changed again. It took us more than 45 minutes just to get to the end of my street, the traffic was that heavy – and Songkran was supposed to be over! The Thai’s didn’t care, this is their one weekend to go crazy and they loved it. I finally made it to Charlie’s parents beautiful big house, expecting a low-key play date with one of my favourite students… But I should have known better. All of my favourite students and their wonderful parents were there, and not only were there “shrimps on the Barbie” (and ALOT of them), they’d also gone to the trouble of getting imported beef, sausages, Australian wine, cheese platters and all the trimmings. I had a great day playing with all the kids and drinking too much wine (Teacher Belle is now officially off duty) and had to put on a brave face to not cry saying goodbye to my little angels. I never wanted them to leave.

Soon it was our last day in Chiang Mai, and I just felt so sad all day; as dramatic as it sounds it was the same feeling as when you’re due to attend the funeral of someone you love. I was heartbroken, and Brett was too. Luckily we still had another month of travel in Vietnam ahead, because going straight home to Australia from Thailand would have been ten times worse.

Before we boarded the bus to Bangkok, there was a few people we’d become close with that I wanted to say goodbye to. First there was my Thai Dad: old Mr Krupong, my Muay Thai boxing instructor. I’d finally told him 2 weeks earlier that I was going back to Australia, and therefore wouldn’t be fighting for him… He was momentarily disappointed, before getting excited and saying repeatedly “You go Australia, make baby now. Beautiful baby. Yes, Yes!” (as he rubs my belly) I tried to explain that I don’t want to “make baby” but he wasn’t hearing it. He’s a funny old man – we’d fallen into quite a comfortable routine together during my time regularly training with him, and Brett teases me often because I started – and still do – speak like him, and say little remarks like he does. When I went by the gym to say goodbye he was acting upset and fatherly, wishing me luck and demanding I call him as soon as I’m back – and still insisting I “make the babies, you very good girl. You make babies, make happy”. As I said goodbye he stood in the doorway and watched me off, then one last time called my name as only he does: “BELL!” I looked up and he gave me a sad nod and wave, and turned and went inside. Oh Mr Krupong, funny old man. I was sad to say goodbye to him.

But the worst was yet to come, two beautiful South African girls that both Brett & I have come to adore. Ours was one of those rare friendships that developed quickly and deeply, and after our first few meetings we were all calling each other frequently to catch up and trying to ignore the ticking clock on our time together. They came over to spend our last day with us, and we had one last catchup on the rooftop of our building and then they left shortly before our bus (and before we all got too emotional).

Saying goodbye to people and places you fall in love with is never easy, but I will never be one of those people who hate the goodbye more than I cherish the memories made. I know we’ll see our friends again, and return to Chiang Mai again, so it’s not the end – just time for the next chapter.

So we packed up, got on the bus to Bangkok and spent our last 24 hours in Thailand eating all our favourite foods to excess, and trying not to think of how hard it is leaving somewhere before you’re ready to go. But duty calls back home, so… Onwards to Vietnam, for one last hurrah before we are due back in Aus.

Thailand, Laow jer gun Ka (See you again).

- Belle

I was asked by some of you faithful followers to take lots of snaps of the food in Burma, so without further ado… Here are some of my favourite cheap street eats throughout the wonderful country that is Burma (Myanmar).

YANGON STREET EATS

Fried tofu stuffed with shredded cabbage and chilli sauce. Found on the streets of Yangon for 20c, loved it, and never saw it again. if you see it, get it!

Yangon’s famous BBQ Street whole grilled fish, stuffed with herbs and oh my god amazing. DON’T MISS IT

Yangon bbq street – Grilled tofu and okra skewers. Tastes great with Myanmar beer

BURMESE SALADS – MY TOP 5

I did post a previous post all about the Burmese salads, but since salads are a huge part of Burmese food it’s worth adding the favourites here. So in order of deliciousness:

The all-time favourite: Fermented tea leaf salad

Number 2: Tomato salad. Tomatoes, onion, parsley, crushed peanuts and whatever else that particular vendor wants to add. Always a winner!

Number 3: chopped samosa salad

Number 4: Shan noodle “salad” (Burmese people call everything a “salad”, really this is a noodle dish but they call it a salad, so I’ll call it a salad)

Last but certainly not least: Burmese potato salad. Much like the traditional salad but the addition off crushed peanuts really just blows it out of the water!

TEA TIME: TEA-SHOP SNACKS
Teashops are an institution in Burma, and each day revolves around hours spent in these great little shops. Awesome people watching here too.

Standard Burmese milk tea – too much condensed milk, but tastes amazing. They usually are served already mixed, but this little lady had her own secret method

Milk tea from our favourite tea shop in Bagan, with the AMAZING mooncake. Donut stuffed with shredded coconut & sugar. We ate many of these for 3 days straight, and never found any that measured up in the rest of Burma. so good.

Burma’s favourite breakfast: Mohinga noodle soup and tea

Banana chapattis. Yes, just yes yes yes. These ended every nights feast daily for 3 days straight in Inle Lake

Teashop standard snacks – samosas. The more, the better.

Indian flat bread and beans

These sweet fried bread sticks were so bad for you, but taste amazing. Served at tea shops country-wide… dip them in your tea!

Falooda, for when you feel like dessert & a drink in one!

Domino – icecream, cashews, jelly cubes, banana and whatever else they can fit in the glass. Be warned: it’s super sweet!

BURMESE BUFFET – ALL YOU CAN EAT

A mountain of Burmese faves – Don’t judge me for the piled plate, it was our last night in Burma!

Burmese traditional all-you-can-eat: Washed down with an ice cold Myanmar beer.

Indian food is very popular in Burma, so it’s only fitting we had a big ol’ Indian feast!

STILL HUNGRY…? STREET SNACKS!

Bread sweets, donuts and peanut pie… all good!

Bacon crepe wraps

Yangon street sweets – 10c each!

I’m overdue for blog posts again – I need to post a huge post about all the food we ate in Burma, and also fill you in on our last couple of weeks in Chiang-Mai, and the mayhem that was Songkran festival last week – but to be honest I’m feeling kind of heartbroken about leaving this amazing country and inspired travel writing is just not on the cards today.

Tomorrow we fly to Hanoi, the capital city of Vietnam, where we meet two of our fellow Chiang-Mai teacher friends for some R&R for a week (at which time they head home to get back to work) and Brett & I will roam around Vietnam for just over a month before flying from Ho Chi Minh City to Melbourne, Australia, on May 22, 2013.

“The Gypsy Tour”, as my sister calls it, is finally coming to an end.

So right now I’m going to bury my feelings in platefuls of all my favorite Thai food, and hopefully make myself so sick on it that I don’t want to look at another som tam or sticky rice ever again. Doubtful, but it’s worth a shot.
I’ll catch up soon when I finally rip off the band-aid and just get it over with (leaving Thailand, that is) and feel a little more inspired to write… Right now I just want to speak Thai to strangers, blow all my baht on too much fried food and contemplate buying an iPhone (excessive retail therapy, see it’s just like a broken heart).

Goodbye Thailand I’m not ready to say goodbye, not even close… But we’ll be back for you someday.

- Belle

In a (very brief) nutshell, my understanding of Burma’s difficult past can be summarized as follows: In the 1800′s, the country was invaded by the British and eventually stripped of all it’s natural resources and exports, until one brave General in the Burmese Army stood up for his country and helped regain independence from the British (only to be assassinated for his efforts soon after); so while the local people assumed life would improve under Burmese military rule, it actually worsened horribly and they were forced to “put up and shut up” with how their own government robbed, jailed and killed them – until the brave General’s daughter, Aung San Suu Kyi, stood in her father’s shoes and has spent her entire life fighting for her country (of which she has spent almost 20 years under house-arrest for daring to oppose the government). The Burmese military government have run their country into the ground, and refuse to allow the outside world to know the truth about how they are running the country. The people are lied to, and killed for even speaking badly about the government, let alone daring to do something about it.

But despite all these hardships, the local people are still smiling – and singing, always singing. And not that quiet, under your breath when nobody is nearby singing, I’m talking full heart-and-soul effort into each word of their chosen love song, all the time, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face when I hear it. On our very first afternoon in Burma, we checked into our Yangon guesthouse, the Motherland Inn, and asked for directions to a nearby teashop to get our first authentic Burmese tea leaf salad. Better than directions, the receptionist recruited our own guide, a cheerful teenage boy who happily led us down the street to the teashop, all the while singing passionately (he switched to Justin Bieber’s “Baby” halfway there, I assume that was supposed to be for our benefit), and after our lunch he then led us to the bus stop, told the bus conductor where we wanted to go and waved us goodbye from the street. 45 minutes later as we approached our bus stop, we tried to pay for our fare like everyone else had done and our money was refused – I was bewildered. As any Westerner who’s ever been to an Asian country knows, you expect to be treated like a walking cash-machine when you’re a tourist (and when you recognize that we make so much more money than they do and it means less to us than it does them, you accept this) so when this smiling young man refusing our bus fare and simply said, “Welcome to Myanmar”, it just blew me away.

We arrived at the amazing Shwedagon Pagoda in time for sunset, and I visited each shrine and said a prayer to the big man, Buddha, thanking him for allowing me to visit his country and meet these amazing people. I also said a prayer for my favourite Burmese troublemaker friend back home, and wished for the health and wellbeing of him and his family; a ritual I kept up for my entire Myanmar visit.

After a few days in Yangon we did something we NEVER do – chose an expensive plane journey over the cheap bus trip to head to Bagan. With only 15 days in this country and so much to see, we couldn’t waste a whole day on a bus – and it was quite an experience flying with the small local airline. We arrived in Bagan an hour later at 8am, and immediately set out for a day of exploring some of the 4000 temples in Bagan with our very own horse & cart, led by our friendly and knowledgable local guide.

The next few days in Bagan involved many dusty hours exploring temples on bicycles, and tasting with great enthusiasm all the local cuisine on offer. Brett & I have been very healthy over the past few months in Thailand, clean eating and all that garbage… But that’s all out the window as soon as we hit a new country and there’s new food to discover. We’ve been on an eating rampage; each day starts and finishes and is planned around what we’re going to eat, and where. Donuts, fried snacks, sweet milky teas and coffees are just the tip of the iceberg… I’m bound to regret going this crazy when I get home and have gained 3 kilos but right now I’m loving it (Update: Didn’t gain a single extra pound thankfully…).

From Bagan we took a bus to Kalaw, a small town in the north-eastern Shan state of Myanmar which attracts travelers purely because it is the jump-off point for treks to the very popular Inle Lake. We booked ourselves on a 2-day trek from Kalaw to Inle Lake for the very next morning, led by a local guide named Paul and accompanied by an older Irish couple and a British lass and her Thai boyfriend – these two run a guesthouse in Bangkok and we hit it off instantly.

The trek took us through dry rice and vegetable plantations and dusty villages, and we were sweaty and filthy from all the dust by the end of each day. But it was still better than attempting the trek in the cooler climate, or during the wet season – travelling in the low season means we barely caught glimpses of other tourists on the trail, which is usually PACKED with package tourists in high season. And wet season means you trek in the rain, and have to deal with leeches in inconvenient places, all day long. As our guide Paul said: “No happy tourists in rainy season”, he laughs. “They don’t like leeches between their toes.”

Sweaty and dusty on the hike (those shoes WERE black)

Overnight we camped at a Buddhist monastery in a small remote village, where the weather was cold and the food cooked by our young but extremely talented cook was out of this world. Endless bowls of delicious Burmese foods kept appearing on our table: pumpkin curry, chicken and vegetable stir-fry, tomato salad, choko curry, potato curry, fried rice, papadums, stir fried vegetables and of course, for any fussy foreigners: French fries. I wish I had photos of this feast, but after a long day’s trek and a table of hungry hikers drooling over the spread, pausing for photos wasn’t an option. Sorry guys – the good news is I’ve taken a million photos of the rest of the food from this trip so I’ll make it up to you with that drool-worthy blog post later this week.

We woke up at 5am for a pancake breakfast and hit the road early. By 1pm we arrived at the meeting point for the end of the hike: a restaurant near the longboat pier where we’d travel to our accommodation at Inle Lake. We all collapsed in an exhausted, dirty, yet satisfied heap just in time for lunch. While waiting for the bus, I did a double-take when I saw this leopard-dog… It had all the mannerisms of a ‘too cool for mere mortals’ attitude of a cat – no wonder it’s owner gave it a paint job.

We arrived at Inle Lake, where we spent the next 3 nights at Mingilar Inn – I highly recommend this family-run guesthouse for anyone coming to the area.

Sunrise at Inle Lake

We spent days circumnavigating the lake on bicycles, taking day long boat trips with our own guide, and even treated ourselves to a wine-tasting at a fancy vineyard restaurant, with amazing views of the city at sunset… For a mere $2.

Soon we were in Mandalay, the point of departure for our flight back to Bangkok – but we had a few days up our sleeve so we checked out nearby Pyin oo Lwin for a couple of nights, a leafy green town in the hills with a much cooler climate than stinking hot Mandalay. We wandered through the botanical gardens, posing for photos with giggling school girls (I think they just wanted to get a closer look at big handsome Brett) and getting mobbed by friendly locals. The following day we took a 4-hour train ride to nowhere, purely to cross a popular bridge in the area, which at the time of construction was the second highest bridge in the world – Burma’s claim to fame.

We hopped off the train at the very next station and began trying to find our way back to Pyin oo Lwin – we hopped on the back of a motorbike with some locals and got dropped at the highway where the bus passes, and while we waited we were befriended by a local at a roof construction business who invited us in, kept an eye out for the bus and generously fed us homemade cake and coffee. Unfortunately he was too busy chatting with us to effectively watch out for passing buses, so after we missed 2 buses in a row he called a friend to give us a lift; a Burmese guy driving a truck full of corn seed going our way. We happily hopped in, looking forward to being back in town an hour later to have a hard earned Myanmar beer… Unfortunately our timid driver must have thought the twisting roads would scare the poor white folk, and he drove at 20 kilometers per hour for the entire 60 km journey – so the quick one-hour trip took more than 3 hours. We definitely earned those few beers when we finally arrived home.

The next day we squeezed into a pick-up truck with 30 or so locals, with cramped bodies and fresh produce piled high above the roof, and for $1.50 we caught a lift back to Mandalay for our final 2 days in the country. There’s not much on offer in sweltering hot Mandalay, but we did all the highlights – checked out the Mandalay Palace, took road-trips to Sagaing and the U Bein Bridge, ate too much food at a $3 Shan-food buffet, and watched The Moustache Brothers show: a comedic stand-up routine with traditional Burmese dancing, which gives foreigners an insight into what most locals are too scared to tell you themselves – that the government in Myanmar spies on its people and arrests them if they are caught bad-mouthing or questioning the government. One of the brothers in the show has served 7 years in prison for performing their controversial show – but that’s not stopping them. Lonely Planet had recommended this show, and I’m glad we went – it’s important to support the people who aren’t afraid to suppress their feelings and admit the truth about life for the locals.

At last it was time to leave this wonderful country, so before our taxi to the airport we hit a huge local tea shop and ordered up big: platefulls of samosas, noodle salads, naan bread with beans, tea leaf salad, fried pastry snacks to dip in our sweet milky teas… The locals around us watched incredulously as these two white tourists tucked in with gutso devouring the local food, hands and all… A lot of tourists seem too scared to try the local food for fear of falling sick but I’m pretty sure after all our travels Brett & I have iron guts so we didn’t have a problem. And our huge buffet of food came to a grand total of $1 each. Damn this country is cheap.

But big changes are coming to Burma (I really should call it Myanmar, that is the country’s name now) – construction is happening on every corner of every town and city, as word is getting out that Burma is now open to visitors (until recently sanctions had been imposed, to prevent outside countries from doing dealings with Burma and in turn providing the government with more money to continue oppressing the nation. The fearless Aung San Suu Kyi believes if the government runs out of money, they will be forced out of power); and people are realizing how special this country is. I was expecting to find barely any tourists on our visit, but there were endless package tour groups trawling all the major tourist spots.

And while most locals are happy to have tourists come and visit their country, these package tourists who pay a lump sum to a travel agent in their own country and sit in flash hotels and restaurants run by the Government aren’t helping the people at all.

If anyone reading this is planning a trip to Burma, please please PLEASE take this one piece of advice: skip the package tour, and travel independently. The local people in local guesthouses and restaurants serving your meals with a smile need your patronage much more than the government or that travel agency in your home country does. Package tours just provide more money to the government, who continue to make life hell for these kind people.

Aung San Suu Kyi’s home in Yangon, where she was held under house-arrest for almost 20 years by her own government

Even the most cautious independent travelers who refuse to patronage Government-run hotels or restaurants can’t visit Burma without the government getting a kickback – your visa into the country, and entry fees into the major sites all over the country go straight into the government’s pocket. It’s a catch 22: you want to come and visit and help the locals to make money after the government has taken all the food they have farmed, and stripped them of their own land – but simply by stepping foot in the country, you are funding the government to continue their oppression. But despite this, all the locals I met were happy to have us in their country, and wanted us to go home and tell people all about Burma.

It’s a wonderful country, on the brink of breaking free from its shackles; so it was lovely to visit during this pivotal point in Burma’s history. I really hope those opposing the government can achieve the impossible and get this country running how it should be, and I also hope that increased tourism to the country doesn’t change the happy smiles and optimistic nature of the people. It’s nice to visit a country as a white person and be seen as a friend, and not just a walking cash machine.

The one thing Burma WILL try to make you buy… Bloody sand paintings! (I fell for his kind smile & bought some)

Thanks for the memories Burma!

- Belle

A post about salads, Belle? I didn’t allow myself to get distracted from the work I so love doing (haha, yeah right) just to read about some dumb salads. But give me a minute – because salads in Burma are totally different to what “salad” means to us in the West.

In fact, forget everything you know about salads. Take that picture of a boring iceberg lettuce, chopped tomato and onion salad and toss it aside. Because in Burma, anything & everything is called a “salad” and knowing that you guys expect me to try all these amazing foods FOR YOU (I swear I only eat myself stupid for you guys, it’s all for you… haha) I made it my personal mission in Burma to try every “salad” at least once. So without further ado… May I present a photo-documented post of my Tour de Salad, in Burma this month.

Starting with Burma’s signature salad, the fermented tea leaf salad.

Burma’s finest (and also the meal that got me to book my flight over here) – a salad made from fermented tea leaves, peanuts, onion, tomato, chili and beans. AHHHHMAZING!

And my second favourite… the modest sounding, but mind-blowing tomato salad

Oh why bother with the commentary, you guys are just here for the food photos aren’t you? Here ya go…

Lemon salad, made from zesty lemon rind, onion, cabbage, peanuts and more deliciousness…

My personal favourite, the samosa salad. Saw this on the street in Pyin oo Lwin & just ordered it, and had my mind blown – chopped samosa, beans, onion, plenty of chill and nuts. Ahhhmazing!

Modest looking potato salad, tastes amazing! It’s the peanuts that really make it exceptional

Eggplant salad

Ginger salad

Avocado salad

Chicken salad

Carrot salad

Radish salad

Corn salad – which was just corn grilled on the cob over a flame, the cut off and mixed with veggies. But still damn tasty!

What would a salad post be, without fruit salad? Mmmm

And finally, a special mention for the “Shan noodle salad” – which is pretty much just Shan noodle soup, with slightly less liquid… But like i said, they call anything & everything a salad over here.

Shan noodle “salad”

Sure was fun researching this blog post for you guys! I hope you enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed eating them all… Get over there and try them for yourself. Each & every one of these salads were delicious!

- Belle

The view at sunset from a temple in Bagan, Myanmar (Burma)

Then there are countries like Burma: a country whose name I am familiar with, but I never even had a picture in my head as to what I thought Burma would be like. I’d heard the name of the country, but couldn’t point it out on a map or even tell you one scrap of information about it. Just a couple of months ago I asked Brett “What’s the number one country you’d like to visit next?” and when he answered immediately; “Burma” I baulked at the very suggestion which, as many of you know, is a telltale sign that I’ll eventually visit this country and love it (I hate it when he’s right).

Burmese people LOVE to read.. it’s sometimes the only way they can learn about the outside world. I found this mum & daughter in the halls of a temple reading a Vogue magazine donated by a tourist. Her Mum was making up stories about the pictures and the curious daughter loved it

And since I know many of you are like I was, completely unaware of Burma and all its charms, I thought I’d walk you through a day in Bagan, one of the most popular destinations for tourist in Burma.

I woke up alone in our guesthouse room at 8am, as Brett had woken up at 4am to head out to the sandy plains and photograph the sunrise over the temples, while I opted to sleep in. We were having one of our (thankfully rare) days where we just need to separate and have some time alone so we don’t kill each other, so this worked out perfectly. I headed to the rooftop restaurant of our guesthouse for the free breakfast (I never say no to free food) but when I got up there and sat amongst all the other Western tourists sitting on their iPads and iPhones soaking up the free wifi and munching on toast & eggs, I realized how absurd this was. Here I was in Burma, with all this amazing new food everywhere, and I was gonna choose some scrambled eggs & instant coffee? No thanks. I got up and headed out to the street, where I stopped in the doorway to appreciate the view of 50 or so young monks walking in single file down the dusty street, collecting their “alms” (food donations) from shopkeepers.

A monk praying to a Buddha statue in a temple

I hopped on a bicycle I’d loaned from my guesthouse for the day and headed down the street to the most local teashop I could find, and sat on a tiny plastic stool at a small table facing the street – I love people watching in a new country. A few local boys working in the tea house quickly circled my table until one of the braver ones approached me shyly, eyes briefly meeting mine to see if I was friendly or not – when I smiled and said “mingilar ba!” (Hello in Burmese) he broke into a wide smile and suddenly I had 4 of them at my beck and call, hurriedly polishing my table, refilling the teapot, straightening chairs and quietly chattering amongst themselves excitedly about the foreigner in their midst. I ordered a milk tea and a tea leaf salad, and one of the boys also returned with a tray of fresh samosas – I couldn’t resist a couple of those.

After breakfast I hopped back on my bike, happily receiving smiles and waves from passerby’s and loud “HELLO!!”‘s from the kids. I wandered down dusty roads with no direction or one single ounce of concern for where I was headed – the quote “you can’t get lost if you don’t care where you are” circled in my head. Eventually I reached a deserted looking temple and climbed to the top to admire the view, and opened my fantastic new book “Finding George Orwell in Burma”, which gives a fascinating insight into the true story behind this country’s past and present struggle with their oppressive totalitarian government. Soon an 11 year old local boy climbed up for a chat, and we chilled out chatting about the differences between our countries, which were his favourite temples and what his family are like. Eventually he wandered off, and I lost track of time sitting on the edge of this amazing temple, reading my book and soaking in the hot sun. A group of package tourists arrived and disrupted my peace and quiet, storming through the temple in their flashy clothes with flashy jewellery, talking loudly and barely appreciating where they were before turning on their heel and taking off again.

I hit the road on my deadly treadly and had just resumed my directionless roaming when a scooter with two teenaged boys slowed to a crawl alongside me and called “Hello! What country are you from?” I replied with Australia, to which the one on the front said, “Ahh, Australia! Kangaroo, koala, emu! 22 million people, and your prime minister is Julia Gillard!” I laughed, and they asked where I was heading – I shrugged and said nowhere. So they led me to a nearby temple, and escorted me through a discreet, narrow staircase where we climbed ontop of the huge crumbling temple like monkeys, until we had the best view of Bagan that I’ve seen yet. With our legs dangling over the edge, we talked for more than an hour about politics, how many girlfriends they have, the state of Burma’s government and about whether or not I could kick my boyfriend’s ass in Muay Thai. After we climbed down for an impromptu sparring session on a flat surface of the temple, it was decided that yes, I probably could.

Chilling at a local’s-only look-out point with my new Burmese buddy

It was now almost 2pm, so I climbed down and hit my favourite teashop for a lemon salad, somosas and an amazing Burmese moon bread – kind of like a fluffy jam donut but with sweet shredded coconut or sweet bean paste inside.

“Fluffy moon bread” as we named it

As I ate, I started chatting with a friendly Burmese tour guide who gave me some great pointers about what to do in Burma, and when I told him I live in Thailand we got chatting about Thai women. “I heard bad things about the women there, some of them..” he looked around suspiciously and lowered his voice before continuing, “some of them are prostitutes, is that right?” I suppressed a giggle and said yes, some of them have sex for money – but not all. He nodded seriously, and then told me about a German tourist he’d met recently who’d just come from Bangkok and shared some horrific stories with him. “He met a Thai girl, and did bad things with her. Sex. And even…. The 69!” I tried to hold a straight face while he continued. “But the worst part is, they did these things and they RECORDED it! He had the video – and he showed it to me!” His poor innocent face looked like he’d seen someone get hacked to death with a butter knife, not just seen some good ol’ fashioned homemade porn. This obviously goes against the very strict Buddhist beliefs of many Burmese people, and he went on to explain to me that he does not engage in such acts with anyone who is not his wife, nor does he drink, do drugs or smoke. “But sometimes I do drink coffee… Even though I don’t need it”, he admittedly guiltily. I have a feeling this guy won’t be putting Thailand at the top of his travel destinations in a hurry.

After my chat with Lin Lin, I heading home to escape the 43 degree heat and make friends with Bretto again. After a couple of hours in the aircon avoiding the worst of the heat, we ventured out on our bicycles to find our very own deserted temple to watch the sunset from, before heading down to the banks of the Irrawaddy River to enjoy a ice cold beer.

Ahhh Bagan. 4000 temples, dusty streets and some of the friendliest locals I’ve ever encountered in all my life. Another great day.

- Belle