Operation Backpack Malaysia

Seven years ago, I lived in beautiful, historic Florence, Italy with 11 other international students. The women I lived with were an amazing collection of people from all over the world and taught me so much about myself and about life. One roommate Genelle or G was also from Arizona, with our common home and shared interests we became fast friends. I spent countless hours in G’s room attempting to learn the guitar and talking about our mutual desire to write professionally. On tighter budgets than our other roommates, G and I exchanged ideas on how to stretch each dollar and how to have fun without spending money. When I first arrived in Florence I struggled to learn Italian; a master at learning languages G helped me, suggesting I read children’s books, including her favorite the Little Prince. G was even there when I got the worst haircut I’ve ever had. I admired G, we had a lot in common, especially our love of languages, writing, foreign cultures and independent budget travel. Our times in Florence were memories that will last all my life.

Two years ago, around the time I left my job to travel and find myself, so did G. She announced her plan to spend the next three years backpacking Asia and a website to follow her and her travel partner Ray’s journey. We soon began exchanging messages about backpacking, travel planning, budgets and blogs. I am very grateful to G for her support during that time as she gave me the confidence to make my trips longer, cheaper and more exotic.

I knew G was in Asia when I began planning this trip, but didn’t think we would be able to met up as G planned to be in Japan (far from my intended destination) during my time abroad. Then on March 11, 2011 things changed. A massive 9.0 earthquake shook Japan, causing a terrible aftermath of events and forcing G and other travelers in the region to cut their time in Japan short. G arrived in Thailand before I even got to Asia, but thanks to everyone’s favorite stalking tool, facebook, I discovered she was still there when I arrived in Singapore. I immediately sent her a message. I soon discovered, I was heading to Malaysia and so was she.

A few days later I woke up early and left food heaven, Georgetown, Penang to met G, her travel partner Ray and displaced Japan traveler Joel, in Langkawi. Seven years had gone by since we lived together, seven years since we saw each other in person and yet, somehow it was as if no time had gone by at all. In minutes we were laughing, and talking about our time in Italy. The plan was to meet up for a few days and then I would continue north and G would continue south. Langkawi, was fun, we had a real life MarioKart adventure at an unregulated go-kart track. We hiked to a beautiful waterfall and we ate so many delicious, Big Apple donuts. I was having a great time!




Which is why its no surprise, I found myself heading south with them, mostly because I wanted to share all of the wonderful food secrets of Georgetown and even try a few more. Eight amazing days in Georgetown where we did very little but hangout, eat delicious food and sleep. It was glorious, but I knew it was time for me to move on, so I began planning a trip to the beach. For three days I sent out emails to different beach resorts and everyone ignored my inquiries. So I made a few calls, nobody returned those either. It seems like fate or rather (as I soon found out) a four day Malaysian public holiday was telling me to continue the tour with G, Ray and Joel. So I did.


Suddenly, I was on an overnight bus to Kota Bharu beginning a week long excursion through Malaysia. Kota Bharu is off the typical backpacker trail, a very conservative Islamic state in Malaysia people come to Kota Bharu usually as a transit stopover, but G wanted to see more. She wanted to see some local culture. This began with a trip to the Gelanggang Seni Malay Cultural Center for traditional music, dance, crafts and games. Then on to a local market that smelled of fish. The next day, our merry band of travelers took on four of the regions Buddhist temples; including a reclining, sitting and standing Buddha, as well as a giant dragon temple.






The next morning came very early as we prepared to ride the Jungle Railway to Jeruntut, the gateway to Taman Negara National Park. On board the very early train, I watched as urban environment became, suburb, then farmlands and then dense green jungle. The ride was beautiful.



Once in Jeruntut, a small and boring little town, we found ourselves hungry and after so much time in the eating capital of Georgetown, with few options for food. So began one of the darker moments on this trip. I am embarrassed to share this next segment; I call it “The KFC Incident”.

The KFC Incident
First let me preface this, I haven’t eaten at a KFC more than five times in the past five years. Exhausted and hungry after a seven hour slow train journey, we set out mid-day looking for something to eat. We searched the small portions of the city for something local, something that sounded good, alas nothing. It was becoming infinitely clear, we were spoiled in Georgetown.

Finally, someone, I think G suggest we give up and get KFC. Now, in that moment it actually sounded really tasty. It was different than all the Asian cuisine we’d been eating. It was reminiscent of American food, which I had recently started craving and it was cheap. We all seemed to agree it was a good idea. So for lunch in the tiny little town of Jeruntut, we ate KFC. Again I thought this was an OK thing, it was just once, right? Wrong. That night just as dinner time was approaching it began to rain. Many of the local eateries were closed, but one place in town was not…KFC. So there we were eating KFC twice in less than ten hours. I felt like a ball of grease. It felt wrong that I was traveling and not eating local food. I vowed to never tell anyone what I’d done.

The next night, haggard from our long day in the Jungle, we found ourselves hungry and again left with only one option, KFC. This is the moment of extreme shame. Joel and Ray ran to the KFC, closing in less than twenty minutes and bought dinner making that our third round of KFC in less than thirty-six hours. I’m sure by this point the employees of the Jeruntut KFC thought we were crazy as they ordered the last of their stock for the day. I felt crazy and also disgusting as we ate the greasy chicken for the third time. Never again, never ever again! Just the thought of it makes me cringe.

The lack of food had me longing for Georgetown, but I knew we had more adventures ahead. We were heading into the rainforest of Taman Negara.

The easiest and most scenic route to Teman Negara is via the Kuala Tembling River boat, a narrow long canoe like boat with an small motor on the back. The three hour journey down the river was gorgeous, and relaxing. When we arrived at the park, we ate a riverside lunch and then began our hike to the Canopy Walkway, the Jungle was dense and filled with the sounds of nature. Massive is the best word to describe everything in the Malaysian jungle. It began to rain, ironically my first time in a rainforest with actual rain.



The canopy walk was not as scary as others I’ve done in the past, and the fun was intensified because G was very nervous and Ray and Joel were having fun freaking her out. On our hike back through the park, we saw leeches. Ick! My first time seeing such creature and it was slightly freaky, we all managed to avoid one latching on to us but Joel, somehow got bit just long enough for his ankle to bleed for several hours.



The next morning we packed our things and began a long journey to Melaka. My original information required us to take a bus to another small town and then transfer to a bus that would take us to Melaka, yet when we arrived at the bus station, several locals suggest we take the bus to Kuala Lumpur and transfer to Melaka there, about a six hour journey. Not knowing the best route and assuming the locals had a handle on the situation we board the bus to Kuala Lumpur. Three hours later, our bus stopped at what I immediately knew was the wrong bus station in Kuala Lumpur. Fortunately, Ray befriend a local student who knew where we needed to go and even took us there. With our all of our bags we made our way to the metro station and rode it across town to the correct bus station where we booked our bus and got dinner.

Buses to Melaka, depart ever half-hour, the bus we chose was the wrong half-hour. Our bus was significantly delayed picking us up because of an accident. Then once on board the bus, we sat in traffic, trying to leave Kuala Lumpus for another hour. Our two hour bus journey soon became four. Once in Melaka, we were harassed by taxi drivers and people trying to sell us hotels to the point we hid inside of a McDonalds. When we finally reached our guesthouse after an unexpected eleven hours of travel, everyone was exhausted.

The owner of the Riverview Guesthouse, Raymond, met us at the door and gave us tea and cookies as a welcome. The guesthouse was a historic building right on the river with old wood floors and an amazing view. We all thought we had scored. I was very proud of my accommodation choice. G even gave me a shout out on facebook. Then as we were getting ready for bed, Joel noticed a small brown bug crawling across his shirt. It was a bed bug. Moments later G found two more. The owners gone we searched for another room Joel and G could sleep in, and they moved across the hall. Hoping we solved the problem I showered and got ready for bed. That’s when Ray and I discovered our room had a bed bug problem as well. I went downstairs to search for another empty room. When I turned the lights on in the one I found, I also found more bed bugs. Tragic, wonderful owners, beautiful house, great location; all ruined by bed bugs. I didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning we told the owners about the bed bugs and they were wonderful. They immediately apologized offered us new rooms and were generally helpful. We went out to sight see in Melaka, it was at least 95°F outside, with thick sticky air and humidity. I couldn’t take it and soon gave up to take a nap and explore the city more at sunset. Melaka was very cool with a beautiful river walk, a historic center with bright red dutch buildings and multiple night markets. We wait in line for hours to try the famous Melaka restaurant, Capital Satay.





Finally, it was on to Kuala Lumpur, to see the Petronas Towers and have a last night together before parting ways. Joel was headed to Bangkok, Ray and G were going back to Georgetown where they are renting an apartment, and I was on my way to Cambodia. Our last night out was fun and a great way to commemorate our journeys through Malaysia. It was great to see G again and reconnect. I really enjoyed our time together and hope our next met-up is sooner than seven years from now.



**I highly recommend checking out www.operationbackpackasia.com! G and Ray are living a life long dream, day by day. Your support (reading the blog and/or donations) can help them do more go further and share it with you.

eating my way through Georgetown, Pulau Penang

Travel guides all sing the praises of Malaysia’s food culture and Georgetown, the main city on Pulau Penang, a large island off the west coast of the country, is the pride of this countries culinary diversity. Heavily influenced by Indonesian, Thai, Chinese and Indian cuisine the food in Georgetown is flavorful and unique. Food carts line the busiest streets and many small shops serve their own versions of delicious local favorites. As a proud lover of all things food this was very exciting and upon my arrival in Georgetown the thing I was most excited to do.


Georgetown is a large city and finding the best places to eat and explore food from allover Asia is not easy but well worth the effort. I walked around the city for hours searching for the places with the longest lines to eat, the most locals and the freshest ingredients. I finally decided to give the world famous food a try and began with a dim sum style dumpling cart parked on one of the main roads in the city. I had six different styles of dumpling ($2.50) which were all delicious(although I have no idea what was inside most of them). My hunger satisfied, but my curiosity still peaked, I went to search for more. I found another food cart, the owner called out to me, “hey you, you want whore fun?” I turned a looked at him confused, thinking massage shops where the only place in Penang with that kind of “fun“. He then said, “I have many kinds of whore fun, you choose.” Again confused as to how I had found a food cart/pimp, I looked at him bewildered. He continued, “have chicken, prawn, beef all kind”. Turns out hor fun is a very popular Malay dish that comes in many variations. I decided to try the mixed hor fun($2), delicious! The noodles were handmade and in a lovely brown sauce, it was the most hor fun I’ve ever had!

The next morning(ok I was out late, afternoon) I went out in search of Indian food. What I found was a cafeteria style restaurant with dishes from all over the Indian sub-continent, popular with locals and packed at 3:00pm, I went in and ordered an iced chai tea and a vegetarian masala thosai ($1.25) and enjoyed some of the best Indian food I’ve ever eaten at a price that was unbelievable! Tikka chicken, parathas, roti canai, mushroom masala, biryani, naan and every yummy thing I could find. I was officially obsessed with the food in Georgetown, but had the chance to meet up with an old friend and choose to move onward.





Meeting up with my friend and her travel buddies was great (more on that in my next post) but, the food in Langkawi was a let down. A major beach destination food was uncreative, poorly prepared and very expensive. I decided the next step in my travels would be to return to Georgetown for more food and this time, I brought my new travel gang along for the ride. The night we arrived, I took them to the Indian restaurant and my favorite food market, the Paradise Food Garden. It was fun to be the expert on the food in Georgetown and they loved the food and the price as much as I did. We all spent the next 8 days eating and very little else. Malay, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese; I tried it all. I probably gained a few pounds from all of the delicious food but it was worth it, to have the chance to try so many Asian dishes for so little money.






learn more: http://georgetown-penang.com/penang-food/

forced to linger more in Singapore

If it could go wrong, it did go wrong in Singapore….of course, I wouldn’t have know this when I stepped off my uneventful, verging on pleasant, 11 hour flight. I eased through immigration and walked outside to meet my pre-arranged airport shuttle. I had specific instructions on where to wait and what time the bus, which they claim looks like a bumble bee(hard to miss right?), would pick me up and take me to my hostel. I arrived at the meeting point five minutes early, it was almost 7pm and the sun was setting, the air was hot and thick with moisture. I waited ten minutes, before double checking all my pick up information. Ten minutes became twenty, then forty; still no van that looked like a bumble bee, in fact, no van at all. I decided to make a very expensive ($3.50/min) phone call to ask where my bus was. The man on the phone didn’t understand me, but kept saying the bus is on the way. So I waited, I waited another thirty, forty, fifty minutes…nothing. It was now 8:30, completely dark and I was still at the airport. I decided to get a taxi, another $25 I didn’t want to spend, but at this point all I wanted to do was check into my hostel and shower.

Finally at my hostel I checked in, showered and promptly passed out. I woke up in the morning, itching an all too familiar itch, bed bugs! Indeed, that’s right I was in Asia for less than twenty-four hours and my first bed-bug problem had found me. I don’t have time to deal with the problem at that moment as I had an appointment at the US Embassy to get more pages added to my passport (yep, I filled it up). After getting lost on multiple buses, I finally arrived at the entrance of the embassy where I was informed by a security guard, they were closed for a random Thursday holiday. Apparently, whoever scheduled my appointment forgot, when they told me to come at 11am that day. So I left, passport still full, told to return at 8am the next morning, without an appointment and likely be forced spend the entire weekend, not budgeted for or planned, in Singapore.

After being denied access to the embassy, I walked around Singapore’s historic areas and did some standard sightseeing. The streets of Singapore are filled with fast moving dangerous traffic and the sidewalks are none existent; as I was darting and weaving my way through the city, I accidentally fell/stepped in a massive hole. Now with a twisted ankle and bloody knee, I walked back to my hostel to deal with the bed bug issue. When I quietly and politely told the staff I had been bitten by bed bugs they were unresponsive. When I asked to moved rooms they acted angry. When I asked for new sheets they got downright rude. After moving my things to a new room, which I was convinced was not bed bug free, I went looking for a new place to stay.

I checked thirteen hostels, hotels and guesthouses near my budget range in Singapore and all of them were full or filled with bed bugs as well. I resigned myself to my fate and chose to sleep funny hours (sunrise til noon) and cover myself head to toe with clothing so there would be nothing for the bugs to bite. My strategy worked well as I found relatively few bites over the next few days, however many fellow travelers reported problems with bed bugs as well and the staff of this hostel just didn’t seem to care. I began to notice the number of blood stains on the mattresses and the walls around the hostel too numerous to count. This place didn’t just have a bed bug problem it had a full on infestation, and the ambivalence of the staff was not helping.

Friday morning I spent hours at the US Embassy waiting to have pages added to my passport and after many hours of waiting, I was told what I already suspect, they needed two business days to process my passport and it would not be ready until Monday afternoon. I was officially stuck in Singapore until Monday.

My weekend in Singapore, aside from the bed bugs was nice, I checked out the city. Went to several malls, museums and the Marina Bay Sands Hotel, Casino and Shopping center. This place was absurd. Several high end shopping outlets framed a casino and a three tower hotel/conference center with a boat sitting atop. I made the best of my situation and enjoyed seeing more of Singapore than I planned.








On Monday, I made my way to the embassy once again, this time to pickup my passport and armed with two new sets of blank visa pages, continue my journey through Asia. Finally!

Some how the bus company put the wrong name on my ticket when I booked a bus to Malaysia and began my journey onward. I hoped it wasn't a bad sign.

broken camera woes

*note: this blog is a bit dramatic but, it is completely how i felt at the time.

My heart began to race, my hand shaking as I looked down. There it was, a huge dent which had rendered my beloved camera useless. I felt tears begin to build in my eyes, I took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s not that bad,” I told myself with an attempted optimistic tone, “I will go to a camera shop in the morning, they’ll be able to help me.” I set my camera in my bag and went to walk around Queenstown. The walking didn’t last long, all I could do was think about my poor camera.

I kept relieving its tragic fall to the floor, where it smashed into a heavy white plate, someone left in my hostel dorm room. I went through every stage of grief in rapid cycles. I even had moments where I felt silly reacting so strongly to a broken camera. Nonetheless, the thought of breaking my camera and therefore being unable to photograph even one minute of my trip made me seethe with anger. Right after my passport and my debt/credit cards, damaging or loosing my camera was next on the list of things that could instantly ruin my trip. I take thousands of photos when I travel and with out my favorite Canon Powershot, I felt naked, as if I was missing a part of me.

I worried all night long, “what if I can’t get this fixed?” “Can I afford a new camera?” “Can I at least save the pictures on the memory card.?” I was standing outside the camera shop when it opened the next morning. The friendly staff said there was nothing they could do to fix my camera, but they could give me the tools necessary to try and fix it myself. I stood at the counter of the tiny camera shop holding a very small flat head screwdriver and went for it. First I tried to gently pry the dented section of the camera loose, no luck. Next, I lightly tapped the screw driver into the dented compartment with a hammer, still nothing. At this point I has lost all hope, so mostly out of frustration I jammed to screw driver down into the camera door and POP it flew open. The battery and memory card exposed. My heart began to beat fast and irregular, I was either on the verge of fixing my camera or completely destroying it.

I took a needle-noose pliers and gently molded the mangled metal back into place. I tried to shut the opening, it was too loose. I folded the outer shell inward, tried to close the door again, and again nothing; this time it was too tight. As I made my third attempt to mold the camera back into the correct shape needed to close the flap and hold both the battery and memory card in place, I began to think about other ways I could hold the door shut, duct tape, hair elastics, everything I had access to crossed my mind. Gently, I pulled and twist small sections of metal, I exercised a level of patience I was unaware I was capable of achieving. Then finally as if nothing had ever happened to the camera, the door slid shut. I opened and closed it a few times to check, but indeed it was back together and able to function as if the previous evenings damage had not occurred. To be safe I affixed a small amount of duct tape to the outer section of the door and for almost 2 weeks I had no further issues.

Then my first night in Singapore, it happened again. The door to the case was jammed. This time the camera had not fallen or for that matter, been mistreated. Again I went to a camera shop and again, I found myself holding tiny tools and carefully tinkering with my camera. After several unsuccessful attempts. The man in the shop took my camera from me and slapped it from the undamaged side. The door popped open. He the innstructed me not to open the compartment unless I absolutely have to and he replaced the hinge on the door, free of charge. Two more weeks have gone by and so far (*knock wood*) no problems (although, I've only opened the flap twice). I am thrilled to have a working camera and thankful I can take pictures and video to remember my trip. However, I have learned three valuable lessons from all of this. First, use a camera case; second, always bring a spare camera; and finally, never ever, let something like this ruin your trip; I was acting crazy.

Facing my fears

When I tell people my passion is international travel they are always inquisitive of the details. When they learn I spend the majority of my travel time alone, on a very tight budget, with a very-very small backpack and little else, they all say the same thing, “you’re so brave.” At first this comment caught me off guard as backpacking and international travel don’t seem scary to me by definition; but over time I’ve realized people see what I do as brave, because it is something they have never done. The unknown/unfamiliar is scary. To face the unknown and just go for it, is really frightening, because it requires us to relinquish control and let things happen to us. As a “control freak” this is a horrifying concept, yet surprisingly only recently did I realize, when I travel I let down my guard, my need for control. I fly by the seat of my pants, go places where I can’t speak the language or even read a street sign. I surrender myself to the chaos of my foreign surroundings.

This is something I need to do in more aspects of my life, letting go and seeing what happens. Exploring what there is to learn about myself and the world by taking a chance and doing something where control is in the hands of someone else. Enter bungy jumping or because of my somewhat fragile back, bungy swinging. Queenstown, New Zealand often called the adrenaline capital of the world, offers many options for letting someone else have control; in my case the employees of bungy operator, AJ Hacket.

I asked a lot of questions as I was being strapped into the bungy harness, continued asking questions as I was lowered over the drop sight. They told me when I was ready to fall, all I had to do was pull the red rip cord. That was the moment it I realized, I had control over when I would plummet toward the ground but was not in control of when the plummeting would stop. I was the one who chose to do this crazy thing, but not the one who was controlling my experience. I had to let go and know that I would be ok.

I looked out over Queenstown. The red ripcord in my hand and took a deep breath, one of the bungy techs counted back from five, he told me to pull on “one”. I appreciated the help. “Five, four, three, two”, I felt a surge of adrenaline as I knew I was about to go, “one”. I jerked tightly on the cord, nothing. I was still there. The cord and the pin still connected. The cord was still attached. My moment of bravery gone, the adrenaline stopped pumping through me. The tech yelled out, “cords stuck, try wiggling it a little” I looked down at the cord and began to wiggle it. At first nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the cord flew out of the harness and I suddenly felt weightless and 10,000 pounds all at the same time. I was not ready at all, true fear surged through me, my heart raced. I was falling really, really fast toward the ground. Then I stopped falling and started to swing out over the city. At that moment I felt, good. The view was amazing and I was alive. A little while later I was back on solid ground, with adrenaline pumping through me. I was crazy high from the thrill of it all.

I can still feel that horrifying weightlessness feeling if I close my eyes and think about the situation. Am I glad I did the bungy swing, absolutely. Would I do it again, I just might. Am I still obsessed with being in control, indeed I am. Nonetheless, I tell myself, this was a good step and just another way I am brave; brave enough to face my personal fears, brave enough to fly without a safety net, brave enough to do what it takes to learn and grow, brave enough to go for what I want and except no substitutions.

Checking out New Zealand with Ben

Ben and Lisa were the most amazing hosts while I was in New Zealand, they made me feel instantly at home, cared for and at times even pampered. They cooked for me, gave me rides and even helped me plan a trip to Queenstown. Ben planned road trips for both of the weekends I was in New Zealand. The trips were an amazing chance for us to spend time together, something significantly limited in the past the five years due to distance. We talked about our lives, gave each other advice and laughed about the past and how much we’ve both changed in the nine years we’ve been friends. It was as if he never moved away.

Our first trip was to Akaroa and the banks peninsula, on the east coast of the south island. It was beautiful, the only French settlement in New Zealand, it is a beautiful small town right on the water. We visit many beautiful inlets and bays, stopped to go on a few small hikes and explored the beautiful country roads of the region.





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The next day Ben and Lisa took me to lunch in one of New Zealand’s many wine regions, Waipara. We visit two vineyards and taste several delicious wines. The second vineyard was where Ben and Lisa bought the wine for their wedding, last September and they recognized Ben. They invited us to go out to the grapes and pick some so we could taste them in their natural state. It was really fun and the grapes were delicious.





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The following weekend Ben pick me up at the airport in Christchurch just as I was flying back in from Queenstown, so we could begin our road trip to the east coast of the island. Along the way we stopped for a cold drink in the middle of nowhere and I tried to chase down a sheep, so I could pet it. When I got close enough to the sheep it started to pee everywhere and scared me away.


We chose to stay in the very small almost empty mining town of Hokitika for the night and the next day, make our way to Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers. The hikes(walks) to both of the glaciers were beautiful and surprisingly easy. The glaciers were both amazing. Fox was smaller and had fewer people. It was centered in the middle of a very high valley carved over thousands of years by the melting and moving ice.



The Fran Joseph glacier was more commercial, but in my opinion more visually impressive with a river emerging from an ice cave at its base and ice so cold it was blue. I know absolutely nothing about glaciers except they are made of ice, cold and melting (due to climate change) at an alarming rate; however, if you want to know more this is a good resource.





After the awe inspiring glaciers we made our way to the New Zealand pancake rocks and blowholes in Punakaiki, just in time to watch a beautiful sunset.




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The next morning we drove back towards the east coast to soak in the natural geothermal hot springs of Maruia. Soaking in the natural pools felt so good after two days sitting in a car and hiking around glaciers. The sulfur smelling water was healing the wound on my knee from a bicycle accident two weeks prior, it magically healed in the hour I was in the pool, and my muscle and back pain I had was gone. All this was with a view of a river and mountains. It was an amazing morning and an even more exceptional weekend.

I am so thankful to Ben and Lisa for sharing their home with me, for taking me places I could not have seen using public transportation and making every minute of my trip special.