Sydney: The Layover

It would be easy to assume that we travel because one or the both of us has some source of wealth that is unique and different from other people in our age bracket. Frankly, that would be lovely, but simply isn’t the case. The travel we do is funded primarily by shifting priorities and figuring out how to make the most out of what money we do have at our disposal. To put it simply, we are incredibly cheap.

Getting to Win’s sixth continent (it was on his bucket list to do before 30) posed a unique issue in that regard. Namely, while working fulltime jobs and doing fulltime grad classes, how does one justify the airfare to fly to New Zealand for two weeks between semesters? We tackled that one by taking advantage of some of the air mile hacks through various airlines and credit cards to bring the cost down to just $75 roundtrip for Win and $550 roundtrip for myself. (This was a 6-month endeavor that required planning, research, solid credit scores, and lots of dedicated effort.)

Once we had our air miles, we found that there was just one ticket option available for all of December and January from Albuquerque to Australia or New Zealand. We would arrive the morning of New Year’s Eve in Sydney, home to one of the world’s best New Year’s Eve celebrations, and have roughly 24 hours before our flight to New Zealand. 

Now, I know what I said about us being cheap and the great lengths we go to in order to afford our travel. The number of stories that include, well we did X absurdly uncomfortable and strange thing, but it only cost $Y is, well, probably roughly equivalent to the number of stories we have to tell. However, in all our travels I have come to appreciate that there’s the time and place for the right kind of splurge. (Note the “I” in that sentence; I am the one who pushes for splurge experiences. I embrace this.)

Given the fortuitous nature of the timing of our 24-hour layover, we obviously needed to find some NYE celebration in which to partake. Rather than getting off the plane and having to fight the masses for free seating, some of which start to fill up around 6 am, we opted to spend some money. And if you’re gonna spend it, why not do it right?

We booked a cheap(ish) hotel room out in the suburbs and near little Korea, but went all out for the fireworks. And I have to say it was worth spending 400 AUD (roughly $280 US) to be harbor-side at the Botanical Gardens with a three course meal and a fantastic view of the bridge, Opera House, and both fireworks shows.

Most things are worth bargaining, haggling, and bartering over, but some things are once-in-a-lifetime experiences that are worth working into the budget.

Buoyant

There are few things as magical as the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. Watching over 700 hot air balloons fill the horizon, drifting on the invisible currents, is an awe-inspiring experience. It is a sight well worth making a trip, but we New Mexicans are lucky enough to have this happening in our own backyard.

And why Albuquerque? Well not only is our weather beautiful in early October (okay, it’s a bit chilly in the early morning when people begin to pile into the park), but we have a meteorological phenomenon that makes Albuquerque uniquely suited to hot air ballooning. It’s called the Albuquerque Box, in which northerly winds take the balloons southward, then once the balloons ascend to a higher elevation the winds take them back in the opposite direction, making it possible (in theory and when conditions are right) to land right back on the field.

As you can guess, this isn’t always the way it happens. You certainly don’t have to attend the balloon fiesta to watch the numerous balloons flying high over the city. Much of the time balloon chase crews end up driving around town as the balloons plunk their gondolas down in residential neighborhoods, land in any of Albuquerque’s numerous open green spaces, and occasionally drop into streets.

As the world’s largest hot air balloon festival, Albuquerque’s Balloon Fiesta draws visitors from all over the state, country, and world, with over 800,000 visitors annually, which adds up to some pretty hefty crowds and equally heavy traffic clogging up I-25 morning and evening.

But with balloon glows morning and evening, a mass ascension on the weekends at dawn, fair-style New Mexican food chockfull of green chile, balloon flying competitions, and a number of family-friendly booths and activities, it is worth fighting the traffic, being jostled by  crowds, getting up hours before the sun rises, and bundling up against the morning chill for at least one visit.

Or if you’re unfortunate enough to attend on one of the days where there’s a wind cancellation, like we were this year, it is worth doing it all over again the next weekend. Especially when the second time you’re blessed with perfect fall weather and such breathtakingly beautiful sights. 

Lumbini's Buddhist PuPu Platter

Lumbini, just near the Nepal-India border, isn’t much to look at. A couple of dusty streets, a handful of hotels, a smattering of restaurants and convenience stores make up the majority of the town. But what makes the town auspicious, what draws those who come here, happened some 2,500 years ago, give or take.

This is the place where it is believed that Siddhartha Guatama, the Buddha, was born.

Despite the fact that the deification of the Buddha and the material worship that tends to follow is fairly counter to the Buddha’s teachings, Lumbini is considered to be a holy place by Buddhists worldwide.

Temples, stupas, and monasteries abound. Theravada Buddhist organizations from Thailand, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and Cambodia show off their various architectural styles. On the opposite side of a long, narrow reflecting pool, the Mahayana school of Buddhism is represented by places as far-flung as China, Vietnam, South Korea, Germany, and Austria, as well as semi-resident Tibet.

The Maya Devi Temple, ruins of an ancient temple believed to be built on the exact spot of the Buddha’s birth, is also considered holy by Hindus, who hold that the Buddha is an incarnation of Vishnu. Hinduism is a bit of a grab bag like that in general, and Lumbini is a veritable international religious sampler plate anyhow. 

We were fortunate enough to have our trip to Lumbini coincide with the massive pilgrimage holiday of Buddha Jayanti, the celebration of the Buddha’s birth.

For the holiday Lumbini exploded with the sounds and colors of pilgrimage. Sari-clad Indians and Nepalis, Buddhist and Hindu alike, piled into the tiny city by the bus- and carload. Duffle bags and firewood were transported atop heads. Hotels set up stands to distribute free water and juice to combat the heat. Blessings were sold and handed out in every direction. At dusk, devotees ignited hundreds of butter lamps around the holy pond at the Maya Devi temple.

And though it wasn’t very true to the teachings of the Buddha, it was a beautiful thing to witness. 

Low Grade Failure, High Grade Success

Whenever we travel, we tend to try to optimize every opportunity, to see and do as many things as possible in one go. We don’t fly to the Thai embassy in Denver or LA, we make a roadtrip loop through the Southwestern US. If we are leaving a region, we fly out of a different country than the one we entered through. Having a layover, why not make it a three-day mini-vacation? 

So when we go on day and weekend excursions in and around Chiang Rai province, of course we do the same thing. Why drive to Phu Chi Fah on any old weekend when you can go there during their annual flower festival?

Phu Chi Fah Forest Park is renowned for its stunning morning and evening views across Thailand and into Laos, offering hikers the chance to witness sunrise from high above a sea of mist and cloud. Once a year, the Dok Sieo Flower Festival takes place within the park. Boasting blooming trees of white and pink flowers, hill tribe handicrafts and beauty pageants, and the general Thai carnival assortment of food and music, this seemed like an ideal way to make the most of a five-hour roundtrip drive.

After two and a half hours on our motorbike, from the low-lying lands around Chiang Rai, over hills and valleys, finally climbing up one of Thailand’s highest mountains, we hit the turnoff to the Forest Park. And ran smack into the flower festival traffic.

Filling a two-lane mountain road with three lanes of traffic, cars were trying to move in both directions simultaneously. All the while, motorbikes weaved and snaked between the cars, narrowly missing bumpers and mirrors. The car-packed road wound around and off into the distance, disappearing around a curve, assuring us that this was not a mere bottleneck but a gridlock lasting for miles.

All this over some flowers.

Defeated and deflated, sore and tired, we turned around to head home. After refueling our poor bodies on soup, applying more sunscreen, and consulting our handy roadmap, we were on our way to loop back to Chiang Rai. Rather than simply doubling back, we figured a nice jaunt through some Thai countryside was in order.

Now, if you ever find yourself driving through the mountains and think to yourself, “boy, isn’t that mountain in our way?” one of two outcomes will probably come about. Option one, the road you are following will ascend gently back and forth to summit the mountain, possibly even circumnavigating it entirely. Option two, the road will go straight up and over said mountain. As an American, I tend to assume the first option will come to fruition.

But in Thailand, up and over you go. So up we went. And up. And up.

 

Interesting thing about Thailand: apparently, if you ascend at such a steep angle, hairpin-turning in first gear consistently for what feels like ages, you might end up at high enough elevation to be driving through a pine forest along the crest of said mountain. Didn't see that one coming.

Of course, the post-pine descent was just as abrupt, straight down the other side, back to the familiar terrain of completely flat corn fields, billowing banana leaves, towering palms, and blindingly-green rice paddies dotted with jutting limestone monoliths.

Very odd feeling, that is. To do something so brief, surreal, and intense, so unlike what you had initially intended to do at all, only to find yourself suddenly back in your regular environs. A bit like waking from a dream. 

Though not quite the optimized two days in the mountains at a flower festival I envisioned, such an experience, so out-of-the-blue, is never for naught. I suppose that sometimes optimization is for fools and the universe will remind you that it's the journey that counts more than the destination. And every now and then, your destination ends up being purely journey, followed by some intense napping. 

Outside Learning

I remember my elementary school days being full of creative projects and hands-on experiments. We watched butterflies emerge from cocoons, constructed geometric kites, listened to stories read in character voices. We turned the room into a paper Amazon jungle (surely a fire hazard), held silent auctions of our old toys, feasted as Robin Hood and his Merry Men, made our own story books. Of course, we also memorized multiplication tables, practiced writing in cursive, learned all those basics. But it wasn’t only sitting and listening to the teacher; it was learning through discovery and experience.

As an elementary and kindergarten teacher in a foreign country, I am witnessing firsthand just how varied the approaches to education can be from culture to culture. As young as first grade, Thai students are expected to spend a great portion of their school day sitting in a desk and being taught lecture-style. From the age of three up through high school graduation, copying and repeating are the standard methods for information transfer. Math, science, English, students copy the answers off the board. It is assumed that they have then learned said information. There will be a test. I hope you were listening.

Of course, the enjoyable part of school for most students is all the extras – art, dance, gym, swimming – and the Thai school system has those in spades. In this department, the Thais go far beyond, holding special events, activities, camps, and holiday celebrations on a regular basis.

Over the course of the past semester, the classroom sitting has been interspersed with more holidays than you would think could fit into four months. Before Christmas, not a single week passed without some special event or activity to prepare for a special event; since Christmas, we have had two undisrupted weeks of class (though I, personally, have had at least three classes per week cancelled to rehearse for a play for next week’s special event); through the remainder of the school year, only one week has nothing special or cancelled.

Between Thai holidays, American holidays, and school events, the activities list is pretty impressive. So far we have had:

•  A Halloween party -- a wonderful way to have first graders come up, hold out their hand, and say “Teacher, candy” or “Trick-or-treat” for months to come
•  Sports Days – from football to chair ball to tug of war, plus a fairly impressive parade
• Three weeks of shortened days to prep for the Sports Days
•  A field trip to the local science discovery center, complete with a busload of students dancing to Thai pop songs
• Loy Kratong
•  The King’s birthday, which doubles as Father's Day
•  Constitution Day – tinted with irony this year, as parliament was dissolved just days prior
• An open house for the kindergarten
• Christmas – literally weeks of activities and parties

• New Year’s Eve/Day – huge holiday in Thai culture
• Midterms – okay, not really an event, but definitely an interruption to regular classes
• Children’s Day – let’s dance, eat free ice cream, and drink free Fanta
• Boy and Girl Scout Camp – walking field trip, camping at school (for the 6^th grade), lessons in knot-tying, first aid, crawling through tunnels, and generally getting prepared
• Teachers’ Day – One of multiple days to honor teachers, for this one school is closed. Best way to reward teachers for their hard work

Which brings us to this week, during which time everyone is preparing for next week’s Open House. My January has been packed with rehearsals of Snow White and Little Red Riding Hood, which my 63 first graders will perform for the evening portion of the Open House.

The only remaining activities are:

• The aforementioned Open House and evening Khantoke dinner for parents (traditional Northern Thai Lanna dishes in endless portions, shared among the table, while watching performances)
• Promotional Drive for CVK – literally a drive, as we foreign teachers join other faculty members in driving to other districts to hand out pamphlets and try to increase enrollment
• Valentine’s Day – the Thais love love. And they love giving gifts. It’s the perfect storm of a holiday
• Makha Bucha (Magha Puja) – Theravada Buddhist holiday celebrating the arrival of 1250 monks to listen to the teachings of the Buddha.
• Final Exams – the end.

Between all of the reasons to cancel class and the fact that class is mostly spent zoning out while the teacher talks (even the best student can only listen for so long), the difference between Thai school and American school is stark.

Through the activities they learn how to become members of a team, how to dance, how to do craft projects, how to be a member of Thai society, but they do not necessarily learn how to be good students. After all, we were all, in some manner, taught how to learn and how to work hard. I have greatly enjoyed being a part of the Thai school system, but I think they could bring some of that spice and variety, seen so heavily in their activities, into the classroom.

That being said, fault them for what you will, but the Thais sure do know how to throw one helluva party.

Old World Ways

Despite years of Spanish influence followed by the rapid changes of modernization, Guatemala’s indigenous population has maintained a strong grip on their traditions. Ever-present in their vibrant choice of clothes, their food, medicine, and religious practices are no less strong. However, when it comes to religion, there is a definite blending of two strong cultures: Catholic and Mayan.

During our stay in the Highland town of Quetzaltenango (commonly known by its Mayan tag, Xela), we were lucky enough to make a day trip to the tiny hillside town of San Andrés Xecul. More fortunate still, we happened to arrive on the day of the town festival, where a marketplace, a fair, and a massive religious buffet swirled together riotously.

It is common in Latin American countries for each city, no matter how small, to have an annual festival, typically lasting a day or two and celebrating the city’s patron saint. San Andrés Xecul is no different on these counts, its patron saint being Saint Andrew the Apostle, whose feast day is November 30^th.

San Andrés Xecul is known primarily for its church, a multicolored Mayan-Catholic-Christian affair, covered in vivid depictions of saints, animals, and agricultural motifs on a bright yellow façade. Inside, neon lights and painted Jesus statues abound. In a country (and faith) of silent, stony cathedral faces with their solemn images, this church is as loud and flashy as they come.

Multihued flags waved over the square in front of their yellow church, a crowd gathered to watch traditional masked dancers. Assorted animals mingled with what we can only assume are conquistadors as they prance about to the music pouring over the audience. Without knowing the meaning of the dance, or possessing adequate Spanish skills to ask, the display was perplexing and delightful.

Corn basked in rooftop sun. Thread of red and blue, green and black, swayed in the breeze, drying, waiting to be crafted into blankets and cloth. Meats and baked goods tempted passersby, rich and sweet. Trinkets and toys waited to be won at carnival games. Old women, skin wrinkled from years of sun, displayed big gummy grins full of gaps. Babies, strapped to the backs of their mothers, napped in the midday heat, happy in their personal hammocks.

And we, as lone tourists, tried to take it all in – the colors, the cacophony, the barrage of scents and sights – all the wonders of Mayan culture colliding with the modern and holding its ground, sharing the limelight.