Journal

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2016 in Review: Q&A With Alex & Madie

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Alex & Madie’s Best Nine of 2016 - instagram.com/alexandmadie.

Alex & Madie’s Best Nine of 2016 - instagram.com/alexandmadie.

Happy New Year! It’s been an unbelievable eight months since Alex & I left the US; and with all the heaviness that has weighed on the world this year, we feel so grateful for what 2016 has brought us. In the spirit of keeping things lighthearted, and while waiting for our bus in Córdoba, Argentina, we thought we’d kill a little time and do a short reflection on our year on the road together.

Wishing everyone back home health and happiness in 2017. We’re missing you all, and hope some of you will still join us on our travels through South America. Gros bises!

Q&A with Madie

M:  Hello, we are reporting live  [ LAUGHTER ]  from the bus stop in Córdoba,  — A: Is this thing on? —  Argentina. Is this thing on? Just kidding. Alex, you go first.
A:   Ok. How are you?
M:  I’m good.  [ LAUGHTER ]  
A:   What are you thinking about?
M:  Are you joking?  [ LAUGHTER ]  Well right now, not very much. Although...  [ PAUSE ]  Ask me something more serious or direct.
A:   [ LAUGHTER ]  No, you have to answer my questions, that’s all.
M:  How am I... What am I thinking about right now? Well, the past six months, or eight months is flashing through my mind.

A:   Ok. Do you think we lost or gained weight from the beginning of this trip?
M:  Wow.  [ LAUGHTER ]  
A:   Since the beginning. That’s kind of hard.
M:  Since the beginning I probably lost weight because I’ve seen photos of myself, and yeah, I think I’ve lost weight for sure. Especially after dinner last night.

 

We had to share a bad leftover lomito sandwich from the only parrilla open in Córdoba on a Sunday!

A:   Ok. Tell me your favorite moment so far.
M:  From the past eight months? Oh crap. Oh shoot. I can’t pick just one.
A:   You have to pick one.
M:  Ummm...  Favorite moment so far... Ahhh, there are many moments for different reasons. The most... Oh, I don’t know.
A:   Ok, tell me a few.
M:  Ok, here’s one! The moment. It’s not the best moment, but it’s a favorite one because it says a lot about our relationship.  [ LAUGHTER ]  It was when we took the night train from Varanasi to Agra, it was probably the worse conditions we’ve ever been through, but we did it together. And it was kind of like a sweet thing to do on our dating anniversary, and it just shows that we don’t need very much to be happy with each other.

 

We were accidentally booked on the second to lowest class car (SL / Sleeper Class) for our 14-hour night train from Varanasi to Agra in India: 2 top bunks in a 6-bed open cabin with passengers constantly passing through, open windows letting in the bugs, and fans pointed toward our faces the entire night! 

A:   Ok. Is there anything you regret?
M:  Maybe bringing these hiking shoes? No, just kidding!  [ LAUGHTER ]  Just kidding. Just kidding.

 

We shipped our hiking shoes (and cold weather clothes) to France so we could pick them up before heading to South America. Before leaving France we debated whether or not to bring the heavy shoes with us since our lightweight Nike Kigers have been amazing on all our hikes so far. We have yet to use them...

M:  Anything that I regret, you know... I mean there’s nothing that could have changed about it, [but] I regret going down the second time for diving.  [ LAUGHTER ]  So that I wouldn’t have nearly drowned, but I mean... It’s kind of...  [ FADE ]  

 

I haven’t really shared the story of how I nearly drowned in Coron. It had been a few years since our last dive, but our first refresher dive was a breeze. Second advanced wreck dive was even better. After lunch on the third drift dive I had to come up for air after feeling some constricted breathing and swallowing a bit of water at only 5m deep. Encouraged to try again, we went 10m down. A minute later I signaled to our divemaster that I needed to go up (Alex was by my side). He said no. I trusted him.

Alex and I went down towards our divemaster at 15m, and then it got worse from there. I had a panic attack, couldn’t breathe, and was in “need” of air, so I spit out my regulator as some kind of reflex. In the next four minutes we were down there, we had to escape the current, and quickly ascend 15m without a regulator in my mouth and our divemaster’s extra regulator purging oxygen below my mouth so I would at least take in air through the bubbles. I was swallowing a lot of water, and at some point I just closed my eyes and prayed to reach the surface. That first breathe of fresh air felt amazing. 

A:   Tell me what your most looking forward to.
M:  Awww. The most? Well... I guess I don’t feel quite right saying this, but I’m looking forward to even settling back home. Settling down, and finishing, wrapping up the trip, and seeing what life will be like after.

A:   Without thinking too much, what would you like to change for the rest of the trip? From something you, I, or we do?
M:  Ok, I actually started thinking I should draw or sketch more. That’s kind of a minor thing. 
A:   That’s fine. It was without thinking too much.
M:  Ok, great!  [ LAUGHTER ]  

A:   Without thinking too much again, what would you like to change for the rest of your life? Something you, I or we do?
M:  Holy crap. The rest of my life?  [ LAUGHTER ]  
A:   You can’t think too much.
M:  Uhhh... To live with less. To live with less.
A:   To live with even less?
M:  [ LAUGHTER ]  No, to retain the kind of how we feel about things right now, and to just not go back to a consumer lifestyle, I guess. So just really to truly live with less.

A:   Ok. Last question: After six months of travel, hardship, a few arguments, and 24/7 together, do you still love me?
M:  Of course! More than ever!  [ LAUGHTER ]  
A:   [ LAUGHTER ]  I’m done.
M:  That was good. That was pretty lighthearted! Bye.

 

Q&A WITH alex

M:  [ LAUGHTER ]  Reporting live from Córdoba, Argentina.  [ LAUGHTER ]  These are my questions for Alex, and all of these are without too much thought. Ok? They might be a little serious, but answer it to your best.

M:  What do you value most about the six months you’ve spent traveling?
A:   Learning more about you.

M:  What are some important lessons you’ve learned while traveling?
A:   That you shouldn’t try to force anything, and enjoy the moment instead. And also, if you enjoy the moment, then time slows down.
M:  Wow. That’s deep.  [ LAUGHTER ]
A:   Is that on your script?  [ LAUGHTER ]

M:  What have you learned about yourself and each other over the past six months?  That’s kind of a redundant one.
A:   About myself... That I actually like maps, and sweet things. And about each other, that we don’t mind spending 24 hours together all the time. 
M:  Awww! That’s sweet.

M:  What has been difficult about traveling the past six months? What’s been the most difficult?
A:   What’s been the most difficult? I don’t think anything’s been difficult. Probably the sun?
M:  [ LAUGHTER ] Ok.

M:  What is something you hope for the... [ MUMBLE ]  
A:   Hope for the next six months? 
M:  Yeah, hope or happen during the next six months? 
A:   I hope we see something different and we learn something new.

M:  Before leaving we both had strong feelings of settling somewhere along the west coast. Has that changed? Where do you see yourself after this trip is over, and why?
A:   Yeah, maybe it changed. It expanded. Maybe not the west coast. Maybe other places in the US, or other places in the world. I don’t know yet.
M:  To be determined.
A:  To be determined.

M:  Well, thank you very much Alex Guion. That was a pleasure.
A:   Oh, thank you. Thank you for having me. This is NPR.
M:  [ LAUGHTER ]  

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Hong Kong - 36 Hours in the Concrete Jungle

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Hong Kong - the concrete jungle.

Hong Kong - the concrete jungle.

We arrive on the island city-state, staying only for two nights and a day. We had already settled on the usual sights, but we’ll quickly be taken to a different side of Hong Kong.

As we land, a heavy downpour starts and our bags get delayed (read: getting a free cleaning outside). Forced to sit down with a growling stomach, I Google “Where to eat in Hong Kong,” opening a few links without reading too much; the bags are finally here. It’s 2pm, we’re both starving, so fast food will do the trick. A quick metro ride to town starts to tickle our senses.

The ambiance is different: the British order tries to make sense of the Asian grit; nice infrastructure neighbors the small streets full of local vendors. The rain gives the prominent tall glass buildings a gloomy side worthy of the rainy England - it is typhoon season after all.  And there’s something we haven’t seen in a while: a punk attitude. Hong Kong’s reputation of cultural goldmine is well deserved. People of all colors, outfits, religion, sexual orientation - all in an Asian setting we forgot could work with a multicultural population. In the metro, a fancy-suited gentleman reads the newspaper, sitting next to a too-old-to-be pierced punk dude, his ear strapped to an old transistor; Asian schoolgirls are huddled next to them, tapping wildly on their phones, with the latest backpack fad and a Kiki power bank; a bump on the ride reveals the tall, edgy-but-classy Asian girl dating the punk dude; and me, too white, hair too long and flip flops that will get my feet dirty in no time.

We settle at the hotel, thanking our credit card points for the roof in the most expensive city in the world. I bring back the Google search on the Handy mobile phone given to all guests (yes, guest rooms in Hong Kong come with a free phone, unlimited calling and 3G data). I find this gem: thatfoodcray, a local food lover who wanted to share her tips. We understand quickly - we need to eat as many times as we can in the next 36 hours. Screw museums and waterfront, I want my belly to hurt.

With one full day in Hong Kong, our only plan was to eat good food, so we set out to have a Michelin-star meal for under $20 at Tim Ho Wan. Really delicious food, and the tastiest bbq pork buns we’ve had! The baked bun is almost like the roti we had…

With one full day in Hong Kong, our only plan was to eat good food, so we set out to have a Michelin-star meal for under $20 at Tim Ho Wan. Really delicious food, and the tastiest bbq pork buns we’ve had! The baked bun is almost like the roti we had in Indonesia - slightly sweet and buttery.

On our first night, we hit one of the cheapest Michelin-star restaurants worldwide: Tim Ho Wan - total bill for two: 115 HKD, or 15 USD. That’s right, a Michelin star rated restaurants for $7.50 each. Belly happy, we look for dessert and find another treasure Heart’s Dessert: congealed coconut water with crème caramel and coconut milk on top. I’m about to die from happiness - Madie decides to barrel roll instead of walking. We crash in the room with our watermelon bellies. At some point we had lost weight on this trip.

We continue the journey the next morning, walk down to the harbor with coffee, pineapple cakes and egg tarts from a small shop nearby. We enter a small park and are greeted with comic book characters statues, a labyrinth and a group of grandmas with swords. Tai Chi is no joke here. Needless to say, we keep going. We find our way to the top of Victoria Peak aboard an Uber to avoid the 2-hour line to the tram, snap the pictures and come down on that same tram for half the price. It’s good to not feel like a sucker sometimes. We’re almost hungry and scavenge for a famous beef brisket spot, unfortunately closed on Sunday, and find instead a ramen and tsukemen restaurant, for one of the best I’ve had in my life (until we got to Japan). We conclude with the tapioca pearl tea cleanser (read: dessert, because we’re too full) and cross paths with a surprising number of Filipinos until we come back to the hotel.

Pineapple cakes, egg tarts, and more!

Pineapple cakes, egg tarts, and more!

Madie unfortunately starts getting sick (not of food), and our adventure needs to slow down. A hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean restaurant a few streets down from the hotel will do. As we realize we’re out of cash, the rain starts falling again - I walk aimlessly for a few streets until I find a proper ATM, swearing quietly to have forgotten the Handy phone. But the random walk takes me to a crowd gathered around a mic, TV, and loud speakers - of course there’s public karaoke on the street.

It’s with some regret that we leave, wishing we could have eaten more, maybe even seen more. But we’re incredibly happy of the few hours we had here. Time to give back the free phone and head to real China.

P.S.: While now part of China, Hong Kong is supposedly still under the formula of "one country, two systems," providing the city more lenient governing, even after being given back to China by the U.K. almost 20 years ago. The relationship between the city and China is very difficult to understand, let alone explain. But a few weeks later, elections were held for the legislative house in Hong Kong which displeased the Chinese government. There is a lot more to read online about this episode. After visiting China (post coming soon), we both hope Hong Kong’s identity will stay as strong and wacky as it is today.

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Vietnam - Sapa, Three Days with Pê´

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Little ones selling bracelets. Our arms would be full if we bought one from every child asking us.

Little ones selling bracelets. Our arms would be full if we bought one from every child asking us.

Yann Tiersen - A Quai

It was a difficult choice between Sapa and Halong Bay, but we opted for what fit us best - far from crowded boats, polluted waters, and sometimes disappointed experiences. Sapa it was, the mountain town in Northern Vietnam, home to H’Mong and Red Dao minorities.

We arrive aboard a sleeper bus after 4 hours of winding roads with magnificent views, or so we are told. We only see a white blanket of fog, which colors our first 24 hours in town. But we do like it here - it feels familiar. The climate is cool and the fog is thick. It’s August, the coldest time in San Francisco, and Sapa treats us with the City’s weather. The small hillside city is quaint yet has enough tourists to attract (too many) Italian restaurants; the main street is lined with ladies and their local crafts, and shops selling low-price North Face gear. We negotiate poorly for two waterproof jackets, preparing ourselves for the next few days.

Our first morning we find Sapa O’Chau, a non-profit organization offering local communities an alternative path from difficult farm life by providing education in English and tourism, helping artisans sell their crafts, and even employing them as guides or hosts for their many treks. Wanting to help in any way we could, we try helplessly to convince the manager to give us something to do, to let us volunteer. But a week is too short, students get attached, and hosting volunteers takes much more effort than we imagined. Instead, we help by being conscientious tourists: we order a second coffee and opt for a two-day trek, with a night at a homestay promising a short course in herbal medicine and a bath. 

Ethnic minority women getting ready to sell handmade hemp, indigo-dyed, embroidered products along the market roads of Sapa. 

Ethnic minority women getting ready to sell handmade hemp, indigo-dyed, embroidered products along the market roads of Sapa. 

Sapa is surrounded by minority villages of the H’Mong and Red Dao people, two of the most prominent of the region. These minorities are ethnic groups originating from the area and not yet accustomed to modern life. They are often too poor to afford the things we take for granted, like electricity, clothes, or education. They live in small communities (read: tiny) spread throughout the countryside - we had our first experience with them between Da Lat and Nha Trang with the Easy Riders uncles. Now we get to live with them for one night.

The start of our two day trek with Pế.

The start of our two day trek with Pế.

It’s 9am and we meet our guide, the shy and young Pế. While trekking out of town we are followed by a lady insistently selling textiles, her voice filling the awkward yet understandable silence that occurs when people with a language barrier come together. But in time, all three of us open up, and Pế’s candid, sweet interest in our life is touching - “No babies yet?”. We slowly discover more about him and his H’Mong village nearby; we learn he has been learning English for only six months at Sapa O’Chau, walking miles to get to town for classes. He wants to be a full-time trek guide and keep perfecting his already unbelievable English. During the first half of our day, Pế will stop many times, chatting and laughing with locals and offering invitations - his younger brother is getting married in two days. Soon the seldom silences are the comfortable ones you can only have with a close friend.

Pế shows us his country, takes us along winding mud roads and across vast farmlands, tells us about hemp and how to cultivate and treat it, asks us about whether we’ve ever tried smoking it, puzzled by why we’re not using it for clothing. We pass small villages nestled in vibrant fields of green, barely a few houses, with roaming chickens, pigs, and water buffalos. There’s an elementary school, a small old crooked building with corrugated metal walls. I think of Worldreader and hope they’ll be here soon. We keep going, cross ruined bridges and step over gaping holes, falling silent to the scenery in front of us, the dramatic landscape of rice terraces, hills, and valleys of Sapa. Everything the fog was hiding from us a few hours before. We got lucky with the weather, as a couple days before Typhoon Nida was hitting the area, causing a large, fatal landslide blocking the way up. Now we’re in this painting after the storm, with large clouds overlooking our trek.

This part of Vietnam is really special to us. From trekking 24km with our new friend Pế, spending a night with a Red Dao family of ten, and visiting Pế’s H’Mong village home to celebrate his brother’s wedding. Our hearts couldn’t be more full. …

This part of Vietnam is really special to us. From trekking 24km with our new friend Pế, spending a night with a Red Dao family of ten, and visiting Pế’s H’Mong village home to celebrate his brother’s wedding. Our hearts couldn’t be more full. The beautiful landscapes are just a bonus. 

The food in this region is quite simple by Vietnamese standards - not as many sauces or herbs, surprisingly - but delicious, nonetheless. Standouts for us were the Sapa spring rolls (in a distinct wrapper and filled with the usual ingredients plus e…

The food in this region is quite simple by Vietnamese standards - not as many sauces or herbs, surprisingly - but delicious, nonetheless. Standouts for us were the Sapa spring rolls (in a distinct wrapper and filled with the usual ingredients plus egg, mushrooms, and more vegetables), and really flavorful steamed pumpkin, both of which we ate at Sapa O’Chau’s post before Ta Phin village.

A warm lunch of local food and we’re off again for another 10km in the fields. The kids we pass are many, often curious and smiling. Madie has a knack for getting them to smile and laugh. We explore a small cave, ford a river and turn our hands blue with indigo herb.

We finally arrive at our homestay, a humble wooden house of a Red Dao family of ten, set on a cliff overlooking the valley. Electricity is only for light and TV, everything else is made with open fire. Grandma is the only English speaker, and her welcome is as warm as a grandma’s could be. She is wearing traditional Red Dao clothing, a hemp robe dyed indigo blue with colorful embroidered patterns. We sit outside on small wooden stools, munch on french fries, and watch heaps of corn roast for the chickens. We talk, sharing a bit about ourselves and our cultures, and soon learn about the tragic human trade of the surrounding villages - daughters being sold into marriage to Chinese tourists (the border is only 20-30km away) for a mere $3,000, a large fortune here. Our shock translates to sadness in Pế and grandma’s eyes. 

Grandma and granddaughter outside their home.

Grandma and granddaughter outside their home.

Their life is simple, humble, but full of joy, laughter, and the screams of a three-year-old girl running around, the end of a toilet paper roll to her mouth so to be as loud as possible. Her older brother is proud, also blaring, and butt-naked most of the time, his pants a size too big. The two children join us and grandma as we pick herbs along their property, the plants serving various cures for stomach pains, joint aches, skin rashes, headaches, and more. Put them all together in a cauldron of boiling water and we have the cure-all bath we were promised. Right before dinner, grandma fills two large wooden barrels with the steeped dark liquid and hands us towels. We close the curtain and jump in, giggling as quietly as we can - our smiles too large for the room.

Various herbs procured and being steeped for our wooden barrel bath.

Various herbs procured and being steeped for our wooden barrel bath.

After dinner with the family (and plenty of happy water to go around) and a restful sleep, we hike our second day back to Sapa, passing the local market to have proper bowls of phở with Pế. Over our bowls of noodles, we finally give in and promise to come to his brother’s wedding the next day, a little shy at first, but sticking to our promise to say yes as many times as we can this year. And we could not have been more right.

We rent a motorcycle to head over to Pế’s brother’s wedding the next day, taking off from the top of the valley and riding alongside the dramatic and breathtaking landscape. The road is full of potholes, giving me a chance to perfect slalom techniques. It turns to gravel and mud on a steep incline as I proudly conquer the road with a manly roar, too oblivious to notice Madie getting nervous. Finally approaching a bridge, the road is now impassable - we took a wrong turn as it turns out.

Breathtaking views of Sapa’s valley.

Breathtaking views of Sapa’s valley.

After an hour of being lost and messaging Pế, we finally arrive at his village, Y Linh Ho - between Ta Van and Cat Cat. The towns are spread out amongst the rice fields, so we meet at the only describable place: the local shaky red bridge. As we head over to his house, sweating profusely after 20 minutes of uphill walk, we enter a small house (missing to hit my head twice) filled with many of Pế’s (slightly drunk) family and friends around a few tables.

Pế’s mother Mai in front of their house.

Pế’s mother Mai in front of their house.

Humbled to have been invited to Pế’s brother’s wedding celebration.

Humbled to have been invited to Pế’s brother’s wedding celebration.

Madie with Pế’s mother and aunt.

Madie with Pế’s mother and aunt.

The wedding is humble, with many guests approaching the bride and groom for a traditional speech and toast, spoken quietly as if only for them. The rice wine flows, with Pế’s mother making sure we get our fair share, clearly happy we’re here. The warmth of the wine and the people quickly overtakes us. We try to make small conversation in broken English, feeding on sticky rice and spicy salt barbecued pork and boiled chicken. As we leave and thank them profusely, we’re given one of the many bracelets sold around Sapa by the mother, a simple token to remember this place.

Madie and I walk away for a couple minutes, and stop to feel this moment again: beautiful in its simplicity, sincerity and profound emotion; people we barely knew inviting us to their home for a celebration; people we may never see again but who we will remember vividly for a long time; some call it a blessing. We take a minute together and let the happy tears go away before we continue toward our motorcycle.

We will spend the rest of our day with our favorite activity, roaming around the countryside on a motorcycle, stopping for iced coffee and to reminisce on a beautiful three days, finding ourselves lucky to have skipped Halong Bay. Meeting and spending time with people was always more important to us than seeing limestone, and here, in this beautiful valley of Northern Vietnam, we met the beautiful people of Sapa O’Chau, the Red Dao family of our homestay, and our new dear friend, Pế.

Dressed in traditional Red Dao clothing with our guide and new friend Pế.

Dressed in traditional Red Dao clothing with our guide and new friend Pế.

Sapa treated us with its picturesque valleys and quiet beauty; it showed us another side of Vietnam, one of the mountains and far from the country’s busy motorcycle-packed streets and sidewalks. It’s been a month since we landed in this country, in Saigon, the capital of South, which lost the war to the North. We have seen many faces of Vietnam: we found new uncles and friends, and met old ones; we indulged in cheap delicious food at every stop, with local beer to wash it down; we met students who wanted to speak English and learn about the US; we caught a glimpse of propaganda at Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum. It’s time to head back to Hanoi for a few days before the next country. We walk through the old town where streets are named after what is sold there - maybe this is “Restaurant Supply Street”; this one must be “Keys and Locks Street.” We stop for more Bún Chảs and Bánh Mìs, for one last Hanoi beer and random delicious soup on a small red stool, for a final Chè. We haven’t left and already miss the best food of our trip, the perfect balance of spices, fresh herbs, heartwarming broths, and succulent meats. We walk lazily, thinking of nothing and of everything our trip has come to be. I realize this is the first country in SE Asia where people have learned to do nothing, to just sit at a terrace and drink Vietnamese coffee - finally some French influence. But daydreaming is dangerous - a scooter almost runs over me. It’s time to leave the heat and humidity of SE Asia and head to China.

A local boy with the sun sinking below Fansipan. This is the highest peak of Indochina, and at 3143m high, it’s the most south-eastern part of the Himalayas. Here we are, just 50m from our hotel, at golden hour.

A local boy with the sun sinking below Fansipan. This is the highest peak of Indochina, and at 3143m high, it’s the most south-eastern part of the Himalayas. Here we are, just 50m from our hotel, at golden hour.