Flying perfectly - 5 tips from a flying Dutchwoman

I hate to brag, but I have perfected my long distance travel experience. Perfected it. This realisation came to me after a lady next to me on the plane made me itch as I saw her bumping in against everything with her three pieces of carry-on luggage and after overhearing an elderly Italian lady curse (Che cazzo! or did she say Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo?) when a security officer asked her to take her shoes off at the boarding gate security check. We humans learn slowly and I guess I just got fed up of making the same mistakes over and over again. I figured you all might as well benefit from my learning process :) 

So, here are the 5 things I think you should do to have a fantastic long distance flight! 

• Travel Light 

Stick to the rules and bring no more than the amount of kilo's you are allowed to take (This includes you, my Indonesian friends!). Don't overpack and 'think it will be okay', because you will end up being nervous at check-in, or paying for overweight. Just buy yourself a good bag which will not allow you to pack too much stuff. I have been using Tatoinka's business roller for at least seven years now and it rocks big time. Besides wheels it also has straps so it can be used as a backpack in case of emergency. The size can be adjusted and it has a small backpack that can be zipped on and off on the front. I love my bag. Usually, I take around 18 kilo's with me, wherever I go. 

This is what I brought when leaving to Colombia for six months

• Don't be afraid to look like a hippy with a hangover

When I hop on a plane, I usually look like a hippy tourist, even if I am travelling for work. Yes, I look slightly ridiculous, but hey! I want to be comfortable and warm above all other things. So, I wear a 'harem' pants (as my mom calls them. Is this even their official name?), a long sleeve shirt, a sweater and sneakers. This way I also don't need a belt, which saves me time at the security queue. For women it's very important not to wear tight pants during a long flight. I hope you girls know why, so I don't have to go into details here :) I always bring a big scarf, which I can use to hide under if I want to sleep or when I get cold. Oh, and socks! I bring a pair of thick socks… I hate cold feet.

No harem pants in this case, but certainly easy-going...

• Hydrate

Don't bring bottles of water on the plane. You know this. So why is that still many people do it? Every single time! Well, the intention to drink a lot during the flight is a good one at least. Make sure you drink enough. Take every opportunity for drinking something, because flying really dries you out!  A positive side effect of drinking a lot is that it will make you get up and pee. Move! Do some exercises while you're at it. Also, bring moisturiser to keep your skin hydrated, it suffers during the flight. 

• Keep it simple

In order to make sure you can get through the baggage and body check, don't wear jewellery, belts or shoes with steel in them. Also, just bring one piece of carry on luggage. I usually bring my backpack and a tiny purse where I keep my passport on the plane. If you have a laptop with you, take it out of your bag at the security check, please!

Do bring a pillow, an eye-cover and a shawl to keep it comfy!

• Drink tomato juice, eat ice cream and enjoy!

Apparently, our taste buds go crazy in the air, so enjoy it! Drink tomato juice or other things you usually don't like. Explore to see what happens! Don't drink too much coffee or alcohol - these will dehydrate you even more. KLM's in-flight service usually offers something salty (crisps or noodles) and ice-cream after 8 hours or so. This really doesn't make any sense to me, but I always secretively look forward to the ice cream. 

Oh, and enjoy the feeling of arriving at your long awaited destination! 

Granada, Nicaragua

A day without music is a day wasted

Colombia, and especially its Carribean coast (and Cali, Colombia's Capital of salsa), is the place to go if you like to dance. There is music everywhere. Literally, EVERYWHERE. Every car, house, bar, shops brings a different kind of tune: vallenato, salsa, merengue, bachata, reggaeton, cumbia, hip hop, house even. This leads me to dance uncontrollably all day long. I just can't help myself! Here's a glimpse of what Colombia sounds like:

Vallenato

To me vallenato is Colombia's equivalent of Dangdut (to which I have not even dedicated a blogpost yet!) and what we in Holland call smartlappen or levensliederen (croon songs). The songs are catchy and sentimental. It's popular music, or music for the working class. The themes is usually romantic, the lyrics often speak of lost loves. Lots of the Colombians I meet here don't like it (but all my neighbors so far definetely do). Even though I wouldn't want to listen to it all the time, I kind of like it (a lot). One of the things I like is that the accordeon is important instrument for vallenato and that the songs are sung straight from the heart. I will soon try to sing a song (like I did in Vietnam).

Salsa

On every street corner you can hear a salsa tune, often it´ll be one by Joe Arroyo, Cartagena's pride. This song always make the clubs explode - people in general all sing along to all the songs, no matter whether they can sing or not. I kid you not: the neighbor is playing this song as we speak, or well, as I am typing this - at twelve thirty at night on a Thursday, I might add.

Reggaeton
Many taxi driver's listen to radio Tropicana and will have reggaeton playing in their car. The lyrics are mostly very offensive to women or just disgusting (or both), but oh, is it fun to dance to this!

How Marc Anthony taught me Spanish

Learning a new language is not fun. At least not for people like me who don´t enjoy learning by doing. Yes, yes, I know doing as in trying as in making mistakes and even failing is part of the learning process. Be that as it is, I still do not like it. Five months ago I started to learn Spanish in Cartagena de Indias, Colombia. It has been a long journey, but at the moment I am actually quite satisfied with my level of Spanish. I did not completely start from scratch as I had studied latin in high school, did a Spanish course when I was 18, spent a month in Mexico a few years ago and had a few hours of Spanish class before departure.   

What I hadn't realized though is that I had an entire vocabulary at my disposal: the vocabulary of love. As I love salsa music, I have listened to certain albums a zillion times. As a teenager, it was Gloria Estefan's 'Mi tierra' album. For a few years now, I've been really into the Mexican singer Julieta Venegas. But how much as I´d like to deny it, it was Marc Anthony who taught me to speak Spanish. I still remember bying the Celos CD (remember those?) at a record store in Hawai´i and listening to it over and over again. Of course, at the time I did not realize it would pay off years later when actively learning Spanish. So, thank you Marc! 

I have to add that here in Colombia it is not a bad thing to like Marc Anthony.  Every hour you can hear one of his songs being played somewhere in Cartagena. So, here I can sing along without feeling ashamed. At last. Thank you, Colombia!

Big butts - the side effects of Colombian cuisine

The past weeks in Cartagena have been jam-packed with new sensations. I am learning more Spanish everyday (have gone through all forms of verb conjugations and am now in the phase of complete and utter confusion about which tense to use), I am making friends and soaking up as much of Colombian culture as I possibly can. Of course I have tasted lots and lots of food by now. The streets here are filled with the sound of music and scents of great food. Food is certainly taken seriously here. They like it big here in Colombia. Everything, including butts (they sell push up panties to make butts look bigger!) and bellies (Colombian men drink too much beer). While I lost weight when I was living in Indonesia, I will really have to pay attention not to gain too much weight here. The diet consist mostly of carbohydrates and is very greasy. The frightening part is that it's very tasty...

Who wants lobster for lunch?

For breakfast many people here (as in Indonesia) eat fried salty snacks (Ieeugh!) with a cup of very sweet black coffee on the side. I still go for  the sweet option; yoghurt or a caffe con leche with cake. 

Sweet coffee with milk and cake

Lunch is a huge meal, often including a soup, a main course consisting of meat or fish and something sweet for desert, and often a drink. Besides meat and rice, you will find (often fried) platano (tropical banana) and potatoes on your plate here. Tasty and very filling. For about 3 euros you'll be full and ready for a siesta.

Mote de queso - cheese soup made with cheese from the coast

Fish with coconut rice and platano

Three course lunch for 3 euros

If you are hungry again in the afternoon (dinner is often eaten quite late - for Dutch standards at least), you can go for an arepa: mais dough filled with meat and eggs, which is briefly fried (see picture below). The best arepas of Cartagena can be found at Dora's on Calle Tumbamuertos, in between my language school and Casa Nativa (my second home here). My friend Sara hypothesized that there may be a relation between breast size and the amount of arepas women eat. Now we shout out 'Arepas!' when we see a fine rack passing us by.

With all this food, it surprises me that not more people are obese here. Vegetables do not seem to have priority here.  I'll keep you posted on the state of my weight and arteries - if I'm not too busy eating, that is.

Bollo de mazorca - maisdough with local (very salty) cheese

Arepa filled with egg and meat

The joys of sleeping together

Besides learning Spanish (getting better every day), my first weeks in Cartagena can be captured in three words: Friendship, food and fiesta. I'll blog about all of these topics sooner or later, but I'll start with friendship for now. 

New friends

Up until two week ago I had never stayed at a hostel before. You know me, I don't like funny smells and those drunk backpackers seem to create quite a lot of those. On my holidays I usually traveled with someone, which made sharing a private room a better option. When on the road for work, I got to stay in (sometimes very) nice hotel rooms. Before departure my friend Sebastian told me that sleeping at a hostel is one of those things you have to have tried at least once in your life."Bucket list it" he told me.

Not intending to actually put it on my bucket list, I set off for a very nice little hotel in Cartagena. I spent my first nights there while looking for long-term accommodation. As I didn't find any as fast as I'd hoped, I ended up checking into a hostel: Casa Nativa. The owners advertise it as being a calm and clean place, which it is. Not only that, it's cozy and has a great family cat. The price for a bed is higher than elsewhere so as to attract a less (smelly and) drunk crowd. Three days ago, after spending almost two weeks there, I checked out of the hostel and in to my new temporary home (a room in a fantastic apartment). With pain. Yes. I seriously liked staying at the hostel. The bunkbeds have charming curtains that provide some privacy and a big locker to store your stuff. My introduction to new people in the dorm would often be "So, I hear we're sleeping together tonight" (I know, my sense of humor is not to be appreciated by everyone). Travis' response was the best: "But we've only just met".

Casa Nativa owners, Marcela and Mitzy, on the doorstep

The pros of 'sleeping together' in bunk beds definitely outweighed the cons: I have met so many interesting, fun and sweet people! It's been a great experience. I've shared the dorm with an Argentinian, a Colombian, two Canadians, an Englishman, an American and a Swedish girl. I've had huge Colombian lunches, was given a tango lesson, went dancing at cafe Havana, saw amazing sunsets on the old city wall, tried my first shots of aguardiente, was taught the expression 'se le corre el shampoo' (meaning someone is out of his mind), got to know a lot of new music, cooked an Indonesian dinner and mostly laughed a lot.

Cafe Havana

Sunset with Travis, Amy and Richard

The people I've met told me stories of their travels and life back home: about Parque Tayrona (which I too will visit), about Carnival in Rio, about balconies in Cuba, about the stress at their busy jobs (and leaving that job to start a hostel), about the cats that are waiting for them at home, about teaching poor women basic hairdressing skills (see cutting borders), about the experience of traveling alone, about learning languages and so much more.

We've fantasized about staying here for good and starting an ice cream shop/Indonesian restaurant in one of the many houses for sale here. Some of us will stay here a bit longer and other will go back to their lives back home. I think I'm doing pretty good at crossing off items from my bucket list.

“He who does not travel does not know the value of men.” – Moorish proverb

Cartagena: Que chevere!

For four days now I have had the pleasure of being a guest of the beautiful city of Cartagena. It's truly amazing! The city breathes history, which makes you want to explore - with salsa music playing in the background and the weather... well, let's not even talk about the weather.

Getsemani

First the citizens, then the tourists

The first days, I stayed in the backpacker part of town, Getsemani. Even though this neighborhood is nicer than most tourist traps, it also has a stench of dirt and prostitution. While I have breakfast, I actually see a tourist stepping into a cab with two hookers - this was at 8 AM! As I enjoy my muesli, tourists, unwashed and with messy hair, come out of their hostels to smoke a cigarette or to quickly run to the supermarket for a healthy breakfast of Sisi and chocolate bars. A salesman shouts out 'Paaaaapayaa' as he pushes his cart filled with tropical fruits ahead. An old garbage collector sings a beautiful song and seems to be followed by unexpected admirers. The sidewalk is suddenly busier behind and around him. An old woman begs, a young man tries to sell white hats. The man whose car has been blocking my view for ten minutes is asked by a (well-armed) policeman to move. The man yells something to the staff of the restaurant and drives off moping. A fine morning in Getsemani.

Papaya seller

Quite the location for a benetton store...

Yesterday I moved to the historic city, which is what Cartagena is know for. Despite the fact that I now sleep in a hostel (as opposed to my Getsemani nights where I stayed at a more luxurious little hotel), I cannot stop grinning: I am here! Every street corner provides a photo op. These Spanish and Italian architects in the late fifteen hundreds really did a good job; it's breathtaking. And it's not as swamped with tourists as I had expected it to be. Still remembering the streets of (other Unesco world heritage sites) San Gimignano, Hoi An and Luang Prabang (which I also loved, so maybe you shouldn't take me seriously on all of this), I was ready to brace for hawkers and hordes of sunburnt American retirees. But no! The city is thriving, with both tourists (from abroad and Colombia itself) and university students. Cartagena's international film festival was free for the first time this year and was so popular that I didn't get to see any movies (despite having waited in the burning sun for half an hour, booh). There were a lot of groovy young Cartagenans in the queue with me. I will report as a further explore the historic center.

Film festival head quarters

Open air film screening

View from my hostel

Of course there is a lot more to the city, of which I had my first taste today. I was invited to lunch at a friend's house (arroz con pollo, which means rice with chicken - very tasty!) in a neighborhood twenty minutes outside the center and got to see a more lively and real part of Cartagena. While the local beautician worked on our nails, I discussed food, cultural differences, men and family with my host, her sister and their ninety-year-old mother. Granny's eyes lit up while she talked about how there are no cars around and people dance on the streets when the party is on. Did I say we (mostly they) spoke in Spanish?

The feet lady knows it all

Granny speaks in a pace that makes it easy for me to understand

*"Que chevere" means "awesome"

The only risk is wanting to stay

"Say hello to Tanja" (a Dutch girl that joined the FARC) and "You'll probably meet a Colombian guy and stay there for ever" is what people have told me upon hearing I was off to Cartagena, Colombia. The Colombian Tourism Board uses the slogan 'The only risk is wanting to stay' and I can say that after being here a couple days, I can very well see why. Still jet-lagged and slightly overwhelmed, I share with you my very first impressions. 

What needs to be said: I feel safe. I figured I would, since I had read that Colombia has changed a lot over the years. But since everyone, literally everyone, got a funny look on their face and a doubtful yet polite tone of voice when I mentioned my destination ("Ah, isn't that a bit dangerous?"), I also turned slightly worried. Of course, I will stay cautious (Don't worry, mom and dad), but I am glad I feel comfortable walking around in Cartagena on my own.

My (very) temporary home in Cartagena

What else can I tell you?

The population is very diverse; people come in all colors and sizes, all types and styles. In Bogota, I saw a lot of indigenous people, with fair skins and red cheeks, that almost look Mongolian. Here, on the coast there are more black people with a Caribbean attitude. I am so used at picking out the bules (Westerners in Indonesia), that here I haven't quite figured out who the tourists are - since the white people can just as easily be Colombian. Also, I've seen lots of people kiss and cuddle. Maybe because it was a chilly and rainy day this Sunday in Bogota (or maybe they do it all the time) lots of people were holding hands, snuggling up on the bus and stroking each other's cheeks. It's not only young couples, no, also old married couples seem to still be on their honeymoon.

Colombians like football as much as the Dutch do

In the past two days, I have learned quite a lot of new words (thanks to Paola), such as 'Costeños', the people from the coast. The taxi driver that took me to the airport in Bogota told me I should look out for those flirty Costeños. Yesterday, I realized he wasn't joking, when talking to the bartender at the place where I had breakfast. He looked at me as if he could see right through my clothes and made me blush with the way he gave me back my change. I am so Dutch. So, it's true what they say about latinos then. Well, the same can be said for latinas, I guess. I have seen some miraculously pretty looking women (not as many as I expected though), but I am mostly impressed with the way women carry themselves. Be they fat or old, or both, many dress up, wear a see-through blouse and high-heels and cheer up their wrinkled faces with a dash of red lipstick. And, they get away with it! Sorry, I don't have pictures yet ;)

My hosts in Bogota, Paola and Julian, eating 'rujak' in the park

Sorry to bring up Indonesia again, but some things here in Colombia remind me of my second home on the other side of the world. There is a fancy busway system in Bogota, called TransMilenio, which resembles the TransJakarta bus service (even though the TransMilenio seemed a bit safer and better organised). Colombians also love Milo (Chocolate milk), they eat grated cheese on fruits (Yuck! Indonesians eat it on everything too) and eat young mango with salt (rujak!). You can buy phone credit in little shops that look exactly like 'wartels'. There are enough resemblances to make me feel at home, and enough differences to keep me curious. I'm off to explore Cartagena (and take some more pictures), and will keep you posted!

Home is where the heart is

Eight lessons learned from not having a homebase

Hotelroom in Ubud, Indonesia

Last year was quite a turbulent year. After living in Indonesia for 18 months, I took off for Vietnam and Malaysia. Since August I have been in Amsterdam (and one month in Jakarta), warmly welcomed by the hospitality of my awesome friends and family. Through the seven places that I've inhibited in the past six months, I got to know my hosts a whole lot better. In case, you were considering to live in between houses for a while, I thought I'd share some of the things I learned along the way.

Esther and Anthony's house in Jakarta

Jakarta living room

1. My friends are Green

They are a lot greener than me, that's for sure. Most are really trying to keep their ecological footprints small by using environmental friendly cleaning products and separating their trash (not just at the Greenpeace household). Thumbs up, girls!

2. In Amsterdam, the East is the place to be

However grateful I am to my friends in Ijburg and Tuindorp, nothing compares to the booming Indische buurt. It's a vibrant mixed neighborhood, where can buy anything from baklava and humus, to ecological fairtrade coffee from Peru and spices for cooking up an Indonesian meal. And I have to admit: maybe part of the charm also lies in the fact that all streets are names after Indonesian islands or cities.

3. It's all about the vibe

I do not need a home that has my name on the door as long as I can feel at home somewhere else. Be it a big and funky place (like the one in Ijburg) or a small and cosy apartment in the city, what matters is that the place is decorated with love. 

My mom's spiritual table

There's always space for more guests at my mom's dining table

4. Music makes my world go round

There should always be a cable for playing my music on the speakers. The first thing I did in most places was to plug my computer onto the stereo and play some of my music. Doing a little dance, without a doubt, makes me settle in straight away.

Apartment number 7

5. A good bag makes the difference 

When living this way, it's necessary to have a sturdy bag. Since I am dragging my suitcase around, I have started appreciating it even more. The Tatoinka stroller/backpack I bought five years a go still serves me well. 

6. Cats make for great companions

The cats in my life deserve yet another separate blogpost, but I will just mention here that I have loved living with Persil, Bagus and Ries.

Persil and me

Bagus and Ries

7. Cleaning is something you can excell in
When you live this way, moving from one place to another, you end up cleaning a lot. I have scrubbed many a kitchen lately. The least I could do is leave the places I lived it cleaner than ever!

8. Home is where the heart is
Thank you, dear hosts, for providing me with great places to stay!

Where are my belongings, you may wonder. Well, they are in my mom's basement...

Thank you, mommy, for storing my stuff!

Somewhere between love and hate

How wonderful it is to wander and wonder...

 At a construction site on Javastraat, Amsterdam

Last year, I described the phases we go through when we live in another country for a while: the honeymoon and the hostility phases. Well, they also appear when you come back to your own country. While I am happy to have family gatherings, eat cheese & licorice, bike through Amsterdam and meet friends for coffees, I also look at my own city through different eyes. Yes, there is such a thing as a reversed cultureshock! Despite the fact that I've spent most of my life in the Netherlands, living abroad makes me see my country in a completely different light. And I figured I should take advantage of this sense of wonder by taking many pictures and blogging about it.

Healthy people eating out

Amongst other things, I've noticed: Girls were wearing bikinis in the park with the first rays of sunshine (my battery died as I tried to take a picture. Sorry, guys). Everybody here looks healthy and carefree. It's all so expensive! A single tram ticket costs 2,60 euro, that's the amount I paid for an 8 hour busride in Vietnam. There is so much going on in Amsterdam. There are tourists everywhere and festivals on every street corner. Then there are the funny interactions between people: A woman on the tram says to the driver "Sorry, I can not see very well, I'm only wearing one contactlens". Waiting for the ferry, I see a man in a wheelchair asking someone for a sigarette. The smoker bluntly said "No", nothing more. It's interesting, this city of mine...

 

Royal palace on Dam square

Spreading the word of the Lord

Human statues still do it for tourists

A man at the city hall pays with coins he keeps in a winebox

Very Amsterdam style bar called 'The traffic light'

"Stop suffering" (across the street from the bar)

Drinking water available for free!

Presenting: me singing a Vietnamese song

For a long time now, I have had the idea to do a 'musical trip around the world' visiting all the places where the music I love is born (Portugal, Spain, Cape Verde, Cuba, Brasil, The USA -New Orleans- and more). It's on my bucket list. However, in the meantime I travel a lot to countries with other great music to explore. Since I love to sing, I figured singing a 'local' song would be a good way to get to know a culture. I already know several Indonesian songs, but will work on something less popular later this year (Indonesian friends, do feel free to send suggestions).

As I found myself in Vietnam in June, I posted an add offering English conversation classes in exchange for being taught a Vietnamese song. Before I knew it, I was practising 'Vao Chua' with my lovely tutor Trinh. She was very patient, explaining the difference between 'tuh' and 'thuh' - a difference I could vaguely hear but certainly not reproduce... It costed quite some blood, sweat and tears, but here it is, my version of Vao Chua, about the joys of going to the pagoda. Enjoy! :)

 

Please feel free to rip me off

The joys of being a tourist

I love to travel. That much has been established. What I don't like is to be the tourist. Tourists are easy targets and (often rightfully so) played for fools by the locals. Since we look like wallets with shoes on, you can't blame those working in the tourist industry, I guess. I just really do not like the feeling of getting an unfair deal. In Indonesia, I often played my 'I'm almost local' card and sometimes that would help in negotiating the price.

In every country or region the sellers would have different tactics for getting you to buy their goods. Somehow the phrase 'Kijken, kijken, niet kopen" (meaning "You look and look, but you don't buy anything" in Dutch) made its way all over the Indonesian Archipelago. This actually leads to me not wanting to buy anything at all. All over Asia, I have found that repetition seems to be a much used strategy. A guy would yell "transport?" from across the street, you walk passed and another guy yells the same thing. This can go on for a while like that. Do they really think we'll pick guy number six?

A woman of an ethnic minority in Laos tries to sell bracelets 

and ends up Skyping with people in France

In Vietnam they are really quite sneaky. I'd already been warned by several people, so I was ready to fight so I wouldn't be ripped off. Several times the menu would not have prices and the bill would be remarkably high. Or the waiters would put stuff on your table that you'd have to pay for without telling you (such as fried things to eat with your noodle soup or wet napkins).

A few times were actually quite memorable. The first was on a cruise in Halong bay, Unesco world heritage site. While admiring nature in silence, I noticed a little boat approaching us. The woman saw me looking and yelled "Hello?! You buy something?". Goodbye peace and quiet.

Some salespeople seemed to have read books on marketing. On the street in Hoi An, a woman tried the reciprocity approach. I could take a picture for free (she basically attacked me with her gear), and buy a banana in exchange (which I didn't do): "You photo? No money! I am 74, very poor. You buy banana?"

Creative banana selller

Just speaking to a sense of guilt and social proof can also do the trick. At a salon after getting a massage, the masseuse told me: "Please write how you like massage. You give me tip? No salary. My salary your tip." She'd been smart enough to write down in her little booklet that previous customers had paid the amount of five dollar, leading me to pay, yes, five dollars too. Even though I don't like getting an unfair deal, I'm also always the softie that ends up giving high tips. But hey, let's see things in perspective; how much is five dollars in Amsterdam?

Show me some skin!

The past weeks in Hanoi have been hot. When it's not raining, the sun is out. And that means that girls need to cover up every single inch of their bodies. They don't want their fair skins to tan, do they? So they have found a perfect solution: when they ride their motorbikes they wear special thin hooded jackets with extra long sleeves that cover their hands. How come no one in Indonesia came up with that?!

The men however are quite laidback here (or as my cooking teacher in Hoi An said "Vietnamese men no good! They are lazy, just hang around the coffee shop all day") and like to feel the breeze on their bare skin. It doesn't really matter where you are, there's always a guy with his shirt lifted somewhere near. Not a very pretty sight.