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First Stop on My Trip to Southeast Asia: Bangkok

Guest Post and Photo by Amy Perry Basseches  
 
"Southeast Asia has a real grip on me. From the very first time I went there, it was a fulfillment of my childhood fantasies of the way travel should be."
Anthony Bourdain
 
With this quote in mind, and Bourdain’s 2001 "A Cook’s Tour" in my backpack for inspiration, I set off on my first foray to Southeast Asia. Would I too feel my travel fantasies fulfilled? My son Jake had spent 3 weeks in Thailand, Cambodia, and Laos during the summer of 2016; I was eager to follow in his footsteps. 
 
Bangkok is a bustling city, full of travelers from all over the world. I stayed in a hotel overlooking the Chao Phraya river, and savored my activities while moving in step with millions of others. With my guide Kim, early on Sunday morning, I set off for Wat Pho and Wat Arun, two of the famous temples in Bangkok. Wat Pho is home to the 46 meters-long "Reclining Buddha," and it is one of Thailand’s oldest temples (built in the 16th century). While there, I saw a classical Thai dance lesson being taught. On Sunday mornings, Kim said, classes are offered free to local schoolchildren. We then crossed the river to Wat Arun, considered by many as one of the most beautiful temples in Thailand. Climbing up high, and looking back toward the river, was a highlight for me. 
 
The next day, our entire group visited the Grand Palace, an over 50-acre complex of buildings, the official residence of the Kings of Siam since 1782. Signs are everywhere, stating: "Buddha is not for decoration. Respect is common sense." This is especially noticeable outside the famous Temple of the Emerald Buddha, where people throng, a few of them tattooed with, you guessed it, images of Buddha. Sigh. 
 

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Walking Through Venice and Veneto with the Wayfarers

Named by National Geographic Adventure as one of the “Best Hiking Companies,” The Wayfarers offers an eco-sensitive “walking” holiday that merges fitness with culture in 15 countries across the globe.  Now in its 28th year, founder Michael West is particularly excited about the upcoming Venice and The Veneto trip. Averaging 7 to 10 miles a day of walking, the weeklong journey will take you to Asiago to sample the famous cow’s milk cheese, visit the birthplace of grappa in Bassano del Grappa, and view two of Palladio’s magnificent villas, including the Renaissance architect’s masterwork, La Rotonda. “The highlight,” says West, “is when we arrive in Venice at the finale of the trip on a private launch directly from the mainland. I have never experienced (in almost fifty years in the business) a thrill like arriving at the steps of our hotel having cruised in celebrity style through one of the most famous skylines in the world!” The farewell dinner is in a restaurant known only by locals on the quayside watching the sun set over the city. “Magic!” says West.
 

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Favorite American Drives, Oregon Coast

In 2005, I was hired to pen a story about whale watching along the Oregon coast during spring, when the gray whales migrate north. I brought along my brother Jim, who worked as photographer, starting our trip in Portland. That first night, we had an exceptional meal at Paley’s Place and had our first taste of the beverage we’d happily be drinking the rest of the weeklong trip, Oregon pinot noir.

From Portland, it’s only 75 miles on Route 26 West to the shores of Cannon Beach on the Oregon coast. First stop was towering Haystack Rock, which stands tall in the shallow waters, inspiring awe from all who stroll on the hard-packed sand. After dropping our bags off at the upscale Stephanie Inn, we drove over to nearby Ecola State Park and took a hike in this emerald forest, where massive 300 year-old Sitka spruce trees have trunks as wide as a redwood. The woods soon recede, replaced by sandstone bluffs, pink colored beaches and the great expanse of the Pacific. 

We headed south on Route 101, stopping in the fishing community of Bay City for small, tender Kumamoto oysters on the half shell at Pacific Oyster. Dessert was creamy blackberry ice cream at Tillamook Cheese Factory. As we grew closer to Depoe Bay, the traffic and commercialism increased. Yet, south of Newport, the coastline is its wild self once again.

In the small arts community of Yachats, houses cling to the high cliffs, nestled in a forest of spruce and leafless alder trees. The hills reach their highest point, 900 feet above the beach, at Cape Perpetua. We drove to the top and jumped out of the car to take in the exquisite vistas. At the start of the Giant Spruce Trail, a man yelled joyously, “A whale.  I just saw a whale.” My brother and I ran over, but didn’t see diddlysquat. 

Our final night was spent at arguably the most perfect spot on the entire Oregon coast, a former assistant lightkeeper’s quarters set on a grassy patch below the Heceta Head Lighthouse. Below, breakers explode against the burgundy red cliffs that hem in a narrow beach filled with driftwood. In the darkness, we grabbed a flashlight from the inn and hiked up to the lighthouse to watch it flash beacon after beacon across the rugged land and then out to sea.

The next morning, we tried again to find one whale, any whale, but saw no fluke or spout the entire trip. Didn’t matter. We still had an awesome time. We topped it off with a visit to Willamette Valley, the heart of Oregon wine country. From Yachats, it was about a 2 ½-hour drive to the outskirts of Salem, home to our favorite wine of the week, Cristom. Vines cling to the slopes of their 60-acre lot and are named after the owner’s four daughters.  We also stopped at the Tasting Room in Carlton to try his selection of little-known gems that never make it out of the state. Then it was an hour drive back to Portland and our flight home. An exceptional drive that I can’t wait to do again!
 

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Top 5 Eco-Resorts in Central America, La Loma Jungle Lodge, Isla Bastimentos, Panama

Increasingly, the small eco-retreat design that made such an imprint in Costa Rica has slipped farther south into Panama. On an archipelago in the northeastern part of the country, a short boat ride from the town of Bocas del Toro, is a four-cabana lodge socked in the middle of the verdant jungle and surrounded by a working cocoa plantation. All of the cabins at La Loma Jungle Lodge were created from fallen trees and inspired by the architecture of the local Ngobe Indians. The employees are also local, including your guide through the rainforest and beach to see sloths, armadillos, small crocs called caimans, and the graceful blue morph butterfly. At dinner, lobster and conch will not be served, as the owners try to use only sustainably harvested fish like yellow jack. Rates start at $100 per person a night, including three meals, the boat ride over from Bocas town, and some of the excursions. 

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Riu Palace Peninsula Week—The Rooms

When I tell people that I work as a travel writer, their usual response is “wow, what a dream job.” 99% of the time, they’re right. Yesterday, I had one of those 1% days where it was dreadful. I awoke at 4:30 am to catch a 6:30 plane out of Boston’s Logan Airport, which was supposed to connect in Miami and reach my final destination of Cancun. Usually an easy morning of travel. We board the flight and are about to fly away when the pilot discovers an electrical problem. We head back to the gate where my flight is now delayed two hours…Then delayed another three hours…Then cancelled. I’m lucky that my wife is a travel agent who booked me on a 2:30 flight to Miami. All the other flights to Miami were already overbooked for the Holidays. 

 
I grab lunch and do some work, when I hear over the loud speaker that all passengers on the cancelled must go downstairs to baggage claim, grab their luggage, and rebook it again at the departure counter. The self-service counters at American Airlines are now a chaotic mess, with countless people waiting on line after using the computer to get their boarding passes. I wait and I wait once again on the long security line. The flight to Miami was a breeze. Unfortunately, when we arrived in Miami, there was no gate to pull into, so we’re delayed. By the time I get off the plane, I only have 20 minutes before my flight to Cancun leaves. As I depart, I hear “this is the final call for American Airlines, Flight 2139 to Cancun, Mexico.” With at least 20 pounds of computer equipment in my backpack, I sprint like a Marine to my gate, which feels like it’s a mile away (those elliptical machine workouts at the gym finally paying off). I’m covered in sweat when I reach the next flight, but remarkably the gate is still open. I beg the flight attendant for a glass of water and he looks at me like it’s a major inconvenience. I finally make it to Cancun, 8 hours later than I was supposed to arrive, only to find out that my luggage is still back in Miami.
 
Then I reach the stylish lobby of the new Riu Palace Peninsula, all lit up for the Holiday festivities, and I can finally breathe again. When I drop my trusty backpack off in the room, I was delighted to spot the king-sized bed, the sunken Jacuzzi tub, the pleasant blue and white décor. A fruit plate was waiting, along with all the rum, vodka, and cervezas I needed to take the edge off. The liquor was certainly appealing, but another reason I love an all-inclusive property is that the restaurants stay open late. So I went downstairs to have dinner, my first fish tacos, guacamole, and refried beans of the week. Ambled over to the theater to watch the scantily-clad dance troupe work their way around a couple Bob Fosse tunes. Then took the elevator to the 17th floor and that king-sized bed. I slept wonderfully and awoke to the morning sun lighting up the Cancun sands and the shimmering Atlantic waters. Ah yes, back to my dream job. 
 
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The Hmong Women: Lessons in Sales, Sapa, Vietnam

Guest Blog and Photo by Frances F. Denny

  
Sapa, in the mountains of Northwest Vietnam, draws native Vietnamese and foreign travellers alike to its cool temperatures and pristine landscapes.  The many so-called “hill tribes” native to the region, like the H’mong and Red Zhao, have adapted to the surge of visitors like savvy capitalists. 
 
In their traditional garb of indigo-dyed hemp and neon embroidery, the H’mong women are striking in appearance. As you arrive in town, they quickly engage visitors in workable English.  "Where are you from?" and "How long you stay?"  They answer all of your questions with ease and humor. The attention and seeming authenticity of the conversation is flattering. However, as soon as they’ve established a rapport, the H’mong women begin unpacking the baskets strapped to their backs, and display hand-woven pillowcases, purses, and blankets. You might buy a trinket from one of the girls as they follow you around town, and the others will frown and say, "You promise to buy from me, too?" The items for sale are pretty, but ubiquitous.  Offloading as many of these items as possible to any customer is the goal. 
 
A trek into Sapa’s valley of terraced rice paddies will inevitably be attended by three or four H’mong girls, hopping nimbly over mud puddles and stones, as visitors scramble and splosh.  The women chat about families, their work, their cuisine.  In a few hours, your guide will declare lunch, at which the point the baskets are opened and the wares arrayed again.  The implication is, "I trekked with you, now you buy from me."  
 
Once a visitor is marked, every departure from a hotel activates the sales force whose faces soon become familiar.  Every detail gleaned from earlier sales forays will be remembered by all: the visitor’s name and itinerary, the number of sisters in the family; the mother who might like a pair of silver earrings. Exactly what price their friend sold a belt an hour earlier will also be known. They frown and pout upon hearing, "No, thank you." A smile appears when they are asked if a purchase will end all the attention. This is the dance, too and the H’mong are expert hagglers. They know a potential buyer must be worn down; that guilt can drive a purchase as much as fatigue; that a tourist will pay 500,000 Dong for some peace. When the sale is done, the H’mong women tie a woven bracelet to their customer’s wrist, and the selling stops – though it is hard not to wonder if the gift is also marking you a sucker to the rest of the tribe.
 
The H’mong women would excel in any MBA program. They identify their customer, make a personal connection, offer something free – but of value (trekking guidance; cultural information) – for the chance to solicit, leveraging their ethnic authenticity with modern psychology.  It is a cold visitor who does not succumb to such marketing.  It’s the price of admission to Sapa.
 
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Introducing the Dream Day Itinerary

Some of our clientele already have first hand knowledge of what we like to call the Dream Day Itinerary. Ideally suited for the independent traveler, these fleshed-out itineraries detail each day of your vacation, from activities to restaurants to hotels. We try to incorporate as much local flavor as possible, hiring local guides to take you to sites based on your particular love of art, architecture, the outdoors, and history. If we have not visited the restaurants first-hand, we ask locals we know and trust in the area for recommendations. In fact, many of the suggested activities, hotels, and restaurants on the Dream Day Itinerary stem from my own articles as a travel writer or come highly recommended from my travel writing buddies who have a specialty, like dining in Spain or skiing the Alps. So rest assured that these itineraries are personally curated by trustworthy sources. Just another perk of joining ActiveTravels.com!
 

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