So You Want To Go To... Portland, Maine

Welcome to the first in a series of travel recommendations for my favorite spots around the globe.

As a frequent traveler, sometimes I can't help myself when a friend posts a call for help on Facebook.  "Hey friends, have you been to [place]?  Any recs???"  Why yes, yes I do have some recs.  It's one of my favorite things about travel: sharing my experiences with friends and hoping they are smart enough (ha!) to take my advice.  [Thanks for the push, Kyle K.!]

Since I find myself typing them up -- over and over and over again -- I thought, “Why don't I just make a pdf of my recommendations and send that out?"  Or a blog post.

Portland Head Light 

Portland, Maine, is one of the coolest spots in the Northeast at the moment.  Most notably because of their food and booze scene.  There are so many options.  Many of which are well worth the 2+ hour drive from Boston.  Sure, there are hipsters (but this is not the other Portland), but this Portland is still on the up-and-up, a perfect mix of fresh innovation, old New England tourism, and just a little whiff of hipster stink.  There's also enough small-town, coastal New England activity (art museum, mansions, a lighthouse, the ocean, salt water taffy) to keep you occupied in those moments between noshing and boozing.  

On my frequent trips to Portland, I usually bring friends and we usually stay for just a day.  If you get there by 10am and leave after dinner, you can pack a lot into 12 hours.  If you have time for a full weekend, my typical manic scheduling can be spread out over a relaxing 48 hour period.


Disclaimer: as with any recommendations, this is only how I do things.  This is not exhaustive, this is not all there is to do in Portland.  Hell, I can't even claim that this is the best-of-the-best.  However, this is what I spend my time on, what I drive 2 hours to experience, time and time again, with friends and family.


So you want to go to Portland?  Here's what I like to do:

First, decide where you're going to eat and build your day around those aspirations.  Whether you're a "foodie" or one of those people who orders chicken breast no matter where you're dining, Portland has options.  I'm going to leave those chicken breasters on their own and focus on folks who want a little more out of their dining.

1.) BREAKFAST/BRUNCH:

I cannot stress this enough: you must -- MUST -- go to Bintliff's.  It's a new American diner in a crooked old house.  There's a crazy wait if you get there at the wrong time (I suggest going as early as possible) but it's so worth it.  Upside: you can have coffee while you're waiting,  Their Bloody Mary is sublime: full-bodied, bursting with tomato and horseradish, with enough celery to ensure you'll have no problems passing everything you're going to consume on this trip in one smooth, fibrous go.  Their home fries are stunning: a mix of red, white, and sweet, herbed to perfection.  Their standard fare is great (pancakes, corned beef hash, etc) but the eggs Benedict varieties are the stars.  My fave is Andouille sausage on a corn cake smothered in sauce.  With those home fries on the side and a Bloody Mary to wash it all down?  Have mercy and die a happy death.  I come here every single time I am in Portland and have this dish.  Not to oversell it or anything.

Crab Cake Bennies

Andouille on Corn Cake Bennies Heaven

Corned Beef Hash Meatz Craze

Bloody Mary/Salad with Tomato Sauce

If you don't want brunch (or want to change it up on day 2), Standard Baking Co. is the big name in town (right on the waterfront).  Brave the crowds, grab a box of pastries/breads/cakes to go, and enjoy at your leisure.  Madeleines, tarts, and their breads sometime sell out.  They're that good.


2.) LUNCH/AFTERNOON SNACK:

If you've done any research at all (or hit up your friends), then you've heard of Duck Fat, where they cook things in the delicious oily run-off of that beloved water fowl.  You're probably still full from brunch, so keep it simple: duck fat fries and beignets dusted in powdered sugar with chocolate dipping sauce are the way to go.  There's other food, but it's typical pub grub, so I wouldn't waste stomach space here.  Great stop for an afternoon munch, either before happy hour or dinner.  Something to tide you over.

If you want cheap raw oysters, J's Oysters is the way to go.  Right ON the water (I think you could actually toss your used shells into the sea!) and across from the stores that line the waterfront.  Dirt cheap oysters and crappy beer are served by friendly staff in this run-down townie joint where you'll probably catch something from touching one of the patrons.  The floors are crooked too.  It's worth the price and the charm of crusty local flavor.  You can tell your foodie friends that it was super authentic because you dined with actual locals and it was, like, so so dirty.  [Insta-worthy!]

Slurp-a-durp!

There's another cool spot for an afternoon snack, but their booze is killer too.  So peep the libations section below for a lil' taste...


3.) DINNER: 

Unfortunately (fortunately?), there's a lot of choice here and you'll hear a lot of different recommendations from different people.  At the fore (lol) is Fore Street, which is the big time heavy-hitter on the scene here.  With that comes some hype and potential for being "overrated" -- I personally haven't been here -- but I know a lot of people who have -- and loved it -- so I throw the name out here.  It's super popular so there must be a reason.

From experience, I can tell you Five Fifty Five (555) is pretty good.  It's another standard new American place (think: steak, lobster mac and cheese, salmon for the health nuts).  The only issue I foresee is that it's just nothing new, like many of the restaurants in town with high TripAdvisor rankings.  That being said: if you are looking for something new and completely revolutionary...

vinland.  Oh. My. God.  Preface: I eat a lot and I travel exclusively for food sometimes.  I am a black hole for good noms and booze and I love nothing more than eating.  So here and now, I will place my first blog Certificate of Excellence on this place and vouch that it is, bar none, one of the coolest and most creative restaurants I've ever been to in the entire world.  

If you're into food, you know about a little place in Denmark called noma.  It's currently the #1 restaurant in the world (until it closes next year, *sob*). The head chef of vinland staged there and got a bunch of the ideas, which is complete local sourcing.  What does that mean for you? 

Everything is from a specific radius around Portland, including wildflowers, lichen and moss.  Fresh, organic, totally eco.  There's a 5-plate tasting menu for $60, where you can choose from the entire available menu (multiple mains, if you can stomach them).  Five plates may not seem like enough, but I was bursting when we finished our meal.  My buddy got the wine pairing menu, which is not advised unless you can put down multiple glasses of wine in addition to your food.  And still stand up straight afterwards.  There are limits to YOLO.

vinland

If you want a truly unique experience for the New England area and for this amazingly low price, I highly highly highly recommend this place.  Feel free to TripAdvisor-verify my claims (Yelp can suck it).  Even if the menu on your night isn't what you expected, chances are you've never had a meal like this in your life.

Basically, there's a wealth of other restaurants in town, so I do recommend going through the TripAdvisor listings and see which places might be up your alley.  Japanese, Thai, Italian, Chinese fusion: Portland does not lack food options (though the abundance of homeless people downtown may have you believe otherwise...).  Do some digging for what you like.  And then go to vinland.

Locally-sourced Bliss

Now that you've figured out where you want to dine, think about where you want to get sloppy. 

There are numerous breweries in town (and brew pubs!) and no shortage of options for getting wasted.  There are also some cool hidden nooks.  Here are my favorites when it comes to loosening up:

1.) COCKTAILS:

If you want to be at the forefront of the scene, head to Portland Hunt + Alpine Club.  They're relatively new to town, complete with bearded hipster bartenders and a really sleek design, but don't let that veneer fool you.  The cocktails are creative, strong and aren't too overpriced.  The bartenders are so knowledgeable that you can ask them for recommendations; they may even craft something especially for your tastes.  Nibbles are also top notch (think "stuff on bread") and well worth a snack-stop.  They have a happy hour, which I'd recommend if you want to save a little money and have something to do before dinner.

Booze and Bites

2.) BEER: 

Honestly, there's just too much.  Allagash is the biggie and they offer tours and have a decent parking lot.  It's a little outside of town and will give you an experience similar to Sam Adams or Harpoon.  Check website for tour times and bring your growlers.  They also hold parties for special brew releases, which are usually packed with beer-snobs.

Crispy

Sultry

 
Rising Tide brewery is closer to the action downtown (Fox Street) and is quite modest: you walk in and see the entire operation right in front of you (they even have their kids helping).  There's a small bar and a few stools.  No frills.  Get in, drink a flight, buy some if you like it, GTFO.  If you don't feel like wasting time on a brew tour at Allagash (they're really all the same, aren't they?) and want to keep driving to a minimum, this is the place to go.  Plus you can combo it into a sort of Portland Round Robin with the following...

Enjoy a flight!

3.) HARD STUFF:

Maine Craft distillery (rum, whisky, vodka) is right next door to Rising Tide. They're pretty new and have great stuff (very young whiskys, if you like it sharp but flavorful).  You can taste their offerings at the ramshackle bar and there are sporadic distillery tours offered too.  But just cut the crap and drink.

Maine Craft Distillery

Fifty-Stone rocks (-_____-)

 
4.) MEAD:

Finally -- and my favorite -- there's the mead.  That's honey wine.  And it's divine.  Maine Meadworks is approximately 2 seconds from Rising Tide and Maine Craft Distillery and they have tastings of all their yummy honey wine (lavender and blueberry are the popular ones, but if they have the "apple ciser" you MUST try some... tastes like apple juice, has an insane ABV that is very very dangerous).  The staff are some of the friendliest hipsters in town and, in addition to offering you tastes of all their mead, they can give you great tips for your day.  Pro tip: if they're out of anything in particular (see: apple ciser), they can point you toward any number of liquor stores in town.  Lovely folks.

Rainbow of Mead

Oh and also: Rising Tide, Maine Craft and Meadworks are all free to enter and sample.  Easiest way to get shitfaced on a Saturday (or Tuesday, as it may be) afternoon.

I'm full just thinking of all these options (and starting to slur my words from all that booze), but you might also want to see some stuff while in town.  I won't hold it against you.
Now, I'm from the Boston area.  As far as I'm concerned, that's where you should be sightseeing.  If you're from New England, Portland will offer nothing new.  There's water, there's souvenir shops, there's a lot of white people wearing Vinyard Vines and Sperry's, there's seagulls.  We know this.  I'm here to stuff shit down my gullet.  But if you're from out of town and have never felt the charm of a coastal New England port town (cough *go to Newburyport or Portsmouth or Gloucester or the Cape* cough), here is what I can offer:

First, you'll probably enjoy walking around the port area and the downtown touristy strip.  There's some cool kitchen suppliers, a salt store, some clothing boutiques, souvenir shops, overpriced stuff all over the place.  There's froyo and Alex and Ani for your teen daughters.  There's novelty shirts and pirate shit for your naughty ones.  It's a good distraction between food stops.  For something a little further out, cross the bridge and head toward the coast to the Portland Head Light.  The lighthouse itself is very pretty and it's surrounded by a modest ocean walkway.  Then there's a big grassy open-air field place where you could potentially picnic or just relax and enjoy the salt air.  Go, park, wander around, dodge the kites and kids running around.  Sometimes there's food trucks, if you can stomach anything more.

That should keep you quite busy for a day or a weekend.  There's also an art museum, some mansions, and plenty of other activities.  So if eating and drinking are not as high up on your list of "musts," you'll have plenty of other things to distract yourself.

On my most recent day-trip (August 2014), my buddy and I did the following: Bintliff's, Maine Meadworks, Rising Tide, Maine Craft distillery, J's oysters, Hunt + Alpine, and THEN vinland.  Needless to say, my comrade was blasted on the ride home and I had to make an emergency pit-stop at a rest area (use your imagination).  Totally worth it all.  Enjoy your trip to Portland.

Hopefully the weather cooperates with you...

Addendum: sometimes on the way to/fro, I stop in Portsmouth, NH.  There's a submarine (which you can walk through!) and a nice waterfront park.  Also an old library downtown (see: athaneum).  I love Portsmouth because it can be a short visit or a full day trip.  It never disappoints if you just want a couple hour diversion on the coast.  Walking across the bridge from NH to Maine is also cool, since you can tell folks that you walked from New Hampshire to Maine.  Who doesn't want that? [Editor's note: So You Want To Go To Portsmouth, NH forthcoming...]

Knock, Knock

Someone's home!

This poor blog was started as my "travel exclusive" site and lasted barely a year before life got complicated and it was put on the back-burner.  As with most blogs, they are equal parts narcissism and altruism.  Who really cares about what we have to say?  And yet we continue to write to an audience we think wants to read about what we have to say.  It's a tricky business, especially when you run out of time to say the things you want to say.

2010 was a great year.  It would be the final year of my employment in Shanghai, the final year of travel within our most beautiful motherland, China.  In an effort to see everything left on my China bucketlist, I went a little mad: Anhui, Macao, Hong Kong, Sichuan, Inner Mongolia, Beijing, Tianjin, Shenzhen, Chongming, Hunan, and a dream come true, the Silk Road (Gansu to Xinjiang!).  I finally saw Vietnam and Cambodia, the latter being one of the most incredibly magical places I've ever seen.

In 2011, I decided to leave Asia after calling it home for 7 years.  Without a job to hold me back, I decided to make it a good year.  Borneo, Korea, India, Italy, Singapore, Taiwan.  I led a family tour of China (10 people, 2 weeks), completed my Province (minus Tibet) tour of China with Yunnan, and said goodbye to Shanghai, my love, my heart, and my world for almost a decade.

Returning home after such a long time is jarring.  One of the most confusing experiences in my life.  It took me months to stop bowing and head-nodding to people in public, months to stop handing my credit card to the cashier with both hands, months to learn how to *slow. down* and breathe fresh air.  I sort of reverse-touristed, rediscovering (or seeing for the first time with global eyes) America and learning how to be American again.  I got very micro, exploring the nooks and crannies of New England -- my home -- and visiting places I'd taken for granted for the first 3 decades of my life.  I explored Washington DC and realized that -- despite our lack of history and culture, comparatively speaking -- we have quite a wealth of awesomeness in the USA.  I even went to San Diego Comic-Con, which would have been a fantastic event to write about, had I kept this blog running.

But sometimes life happens.  In the fervor of saying my goodbyes, saying my hellos, traveling here and there and back again, I just didn't have the time or energy to update my blog.  If you're reading this, maybe you know what I'm talking about and are nodding your heads.  We have family, friends, jobs, lives.  I want to write all the time (seriously) but sometimes I'm tired, sometimes I forget, sometimes it's the very last thing I want to do when I get home at night.  And I regret that.

Looking back, however briefly, on the 5 years since I last updated this blog, I see how much my life has changed.  And yet, I also see things that I couldn't have known at the time.  As my travel fever hit its peak in 2010-2011, I had no idea that it would come to a relatively screeching halt.  Once the novelty of "being home" wore off, I had plans to write a book.  I still have these plans, but as I mentioned in my previous "excuses" paragraph, life keeps happening.  I spent months editing, writing, sprucing up, re-living, remembering... and then I got a job.  A completely unexpected and completely life-changing opportunity.  I became a teacher.  And then I became a counselor.  And now, half a decade later, I remember that I love the written word, I love sharing my experiences and advice with those who will entertain my musings, and above all, I love spreading happiness and knowledge.  And as I look back on all the trips and travel that I wish I had written about, both for posterity and remembrance's sake, I remind myself that the core of each experience is still held deep within.  I've surely forgotten the smaller details, the minutiae that would make for outstanding advice to fellow travelers and trip-planners, but the energy, love and enthusiasm that I felt with each new discovery will always be there.  So I'll write about that.  And hopefully there will be someone out there who, like me, is searching for something a little different when planning that trip with friends, a loved one, or a large group of demanding, high-maintenance family members who expect the trip to be absolutely perfect.  A little pressure and push in the right direction for all of us. 

Indiana Jones and the Visa Application of Doom

(Or, Jumping Through Hoops To Get To India)

Recently I applied for a tourist visa to visit India. It was comparable to a painful bout of rectal squirts brought on by spoiled chicken masala. How did it come to this? Why did I descend into Indian red-tape hell? Let me bore you to death with a long-winded rant.

A few months back, one of my best pals told me he would go to India for a school project and linger for a while afterward to travel. I considered how close Shanghai was to India and decided to tag along. As has become my motto of late: why not?

Usually itinerary planning and ticket purchasing prove to be the most complicated and stressful parts of planning a trip. Unless you're coming to China, getting a visa isn't that bad. For Americans, most popular tourist destinations allow immediate access at the airport (God bless the US). Other less scrupulous nations who need the money will charge you some pithy amount before letting you clear customs (see: southeast Asian nations). When I found out I needed a referral letter in order to get a Vietnam visa, I thought it was the silliest thing I had ever heard. Not only could I get that letter online via tour agent, but it only cost me $14 USD, which I could pay by credit card. Is there a point other than taking tourist dollars? Not really. I thought this was to be the most ridiculous visa-application experience ever, UNTIL now.

[Editor's Note: to any foreign readers who have had to apply for a US visa, I'm told that it's quite the bitch to complete. On behalf of my countrymen, I apologize. You all need to stop trying to illegally immigrate to our great nation by overstaying your expired visas.]

A friend of mine recently visited the great subcontinent and failed to tell me what was in store. She didn't want to ruin the surprise for me. Devious as that may seem, I can see why she didn't say a word. Even if I believed her, the procedure couldn't be THAT bad, could it?

In the interest of making life easier for fellow worrywarts out there, let me just take you through the process. [Please note, this is for foreigners in Shanghai. If you're in another country, I bestow the grace of God upon you and pray that your process is easier.]

Step 1: Prepare Thyself

I consider myself a well-prepared individual. Before I even went to the visa office, I had printed out the application form found online, collected two (2) passport-size photos and prepared to say goodbye to my passport for a few days. Just to be safe, I decided to call them first.

Me: "Hello, I'm an American applying for an India visa. Is there anything I need to bring beside my passport, photos, application and fee?"
Visa lady, taking a deep breath: "Well..."

And then she proceeded to blaze through a laundry list of items that I had her repeat three (3) times because I couldn't jot them down fast enough. Grab a pen and paper, here I go:

1. Passport
2. Two (2) recent passport-size photos (2" x 2") (No pictures of when you were a kid. It's cute, but they won't take them.)
3. Air ticket (Proof you're actually going to India, in case you wanted to get a visa just for fun.)
4. Application form (Save yourself some time and fill it out at the office when you get there. Trust me, the surprise is worth it. The one I found online was outdated anyway.)
5. Money (For Americans applying for a single-entry tourist visa, it's a whopping 762 RMB as of December 2010. Call ahead to make sure you have enough cash. The number is listed below under "Information".)

Step 2: Getting There

On the visa office website, they provide an address, which is fair enough. Anyone can GPS themselves from point A to point B these days. But in case you need more details to plot travel time, here are the directions:

Taxi: The office is at 555 Xujiahui Road, near the overpass, on the second (2nd) floor of the Guangdong Development Bank Tower. It's at the southwest corner of Xujiahui Road and the Chongqing Road/Luban Road intersection.

Subway: Take the metro to the Dapuqiao (打浦桥) station on Line 9. It's the one near Taikang Road/Tianzifang area. Then walk over to the office using the location I described in excruciating detail above.

Driving: Again, see the detailed location described above, or just pop the address into your GPS. The only beneficial thing I have to add is that there's parking outside the bank.

Once you're inside, take the escalator up to the second (2nd) floor and walk past the Sichuan restaurant. The India visa office is to the left of the Canada visa office. You'll see their colorful flag above the doorway.

Step 3: Let the Fun Begin!

The first indication that I was in for a long afternoon was the waiting room. It looks like a bank waiting area, which, if you've lived in China for any amount of time, you know is going to be a headache. Here's what I did. Feel free to improvise.

1. Wave hello to the security guard(s) at the doorway and take a number from the ticket machine. They will smile at you sympathetically, which you know is a bad sign.

2. Grab a few copies of the visa application forms from the counter behind you (to your right as you enter the room) in case you make a mistake. Trust me, there's plenty of chances.

Be sure to take one (1) copy of the "Visa Application for Foreigners Desiring To Proceed to India" (there's an icon of three (3) lions on the header, just so you know) AND one (1) copy of the "Additional Form To Be Filled By All Foreign Nationals (Visitors)(Non-Chiniese) In Shanghai Alongwith Visa Applicaion Form (Please Fill In The Capital Letters)" [sic].

3. Find a comfortable place to sit and get your ass ready (literally) for a painfully long wait.

4. Look at the digital signs above the tellers and see how many people are ahead of you.

5. Gasp out loud. (Crying optional)

6. Fill out the applications.

At this point, you will notice that these are no normal applications. These are preparatory notes for your as-yet-unfinished (or yet-to-be-conceived) autobiography. I thank the Indian government for helping me get started. Aside from the normal stuff (full name, date of birth, address, nationality, etc.), there are a few gems that I simply must share with you:


Item 5(c): "Whether the applicant or his/her parents or grand parents (both paternal and maternal) were holding the nationality of Pakistan at any time?"

Vishnu help you if you have any Pakistani blood in you, that's all I can say! While I'm comforted knowing that potential Pakistani suicide bombers might get screened out before their visa application is approved, I also don't think any potential Pakistani suicide bombers will be flying in from Shanghai. Or if they're applying from another country, I don't think they plan on legally entering India on a tourist visa in the first place.


Item 6: "The addresses of friends/relatives/places of stay during the previous travel to India"

I think my dad visited India while he was in college, but he forgot to take down the address of his hostel. There goes my application approval. Damn you, dad, for that stupid oversight thirty (30) years ago. Kidding aside, I think this is fucking ridiculous. Should I put out a Facebook survey to gather this info from friends who I didn't even know visited India a few years back? I left this blank as a quiet "fuck you" to the visa folks. If they ask, I don't have any friends or relatives. They all died trying to apply for Indian visas.


Item 8: "Father's Name (in full)" and "Present Occupation and Address"

Now I need to know things like my dad's name, "IN FULL", and what he does for a living? Shit! I should have asked him last night when we were chatting about my sinister plans for defiling young Indian girls on my travels. I thought this was a joke at first, perhaps something for unmarried girls or children traveling alone, but when the visa man told me to fill it out, I almost choked on my saliva. Why this has bearing on my world travels is a mystery. How could they even verify this? I put "Neil Yeung Sr., trash collector and artificial cow inseminator."


Item 9: "Name of Spouse (in full)"

Now this is just getting cruel. I'm single, so what?!? You wanna fightaboutit???


Item 10: "Countries visited during the last 10 years"

When I read this, I actually LOL'ed in the waiting area. People turned around to look at me. Security cameras zoomed in on my face. To make my point clearer, I tossed my head back, chuckled again, then started to tsk-tsk shake my head and sigh very dramatically. This was a doozy and a half. I travel so often that I don't even know how many countries I've visited in the last ten (10) years. But since I'm paranoid the Indian government could tap into some unknown database that had all this information stored, I tried my best to be honest. However, I did leave out the fact that I've visited Pakistan, Bangladesh, Iraq, Iran, and Syria. Woops.


Item 16: "Details of Passports Held"

Yes, you read that correctly. PassportS. Plural. Like, "I hope you brought that expired passport you thought you'd never need again, because India wants to see it!" Luckily, I AM that anal and I do keep a photocopy of my old passport information in my wallet. Make sure you have the expired passport's number, category (?), issued by, place of issue, and date of issue.

Surprisingly, they didn't ask for my height, weight, penis size ("length AND girth, in full"), favorite sexual position, mother's waist measurements, or great-grandmother's favorite cereal. To be honest, I started to get some sick pleasure by anticipating even more absurd questions as I went along. I was holding out for that penis one.

Joking aside, it is a pain in the ass. They don't provide hard surfaces in the waiting area to fill this novel out, so bring a folder or book to write on. And a pen. There are 19 items and their respective sub-items to fill out before you even sign the thing. And before you hand-write a second (2nd) copy, they do have a copy machine. I should have noticed that...

The additional form that you have to fill out in Shanghai is repetitive but a lot easier. Name (both yours and your daddy's), nationality, date and place of birth, passport details, employer name, addresses, and purpose of visit to India (sex trade, DUH). This form will be forwarded to "INDEMBASSY/HICOMIND/CONGENDIA" (whatever the fuck that is) at the Indian consulate in Shanghai to make sure they have no reservations about giving you a visa. You know, for those applicants who are involved in freedom fighting in Kashmir. Again, this baffles me.

Step 4:　I Won, I Won, I Won!!!

That's what I screamed when my number was finally called - no joke - about forty minutes later.

Stumbling over my feet to get to the smiling teller, I sat down and passed over the entire pile of crap. Then I found out why it took so long to get to my number in the first place. Here we go again...

1. Fill in your name and mobile number, then sign, on the registration sheet.

2. Smile at the miserable clerk sitting across from you (makes it all less awkward).

3. Make a dumbfounded expression when the clerk hands you a blank piece of paper telling you to list out your full travel itinerary for the trip, dates included. Yes, I know you already wrote this down on the actual application itself, but the Indian government wants to see it again in sloppy scribbling on a piece of A4 paper. If you don't know the exact itinerary down to the minute and hour, fear not. As the clerk told me, just write down an approximate timeline.

4. Sign the itinerary sheet and pass back to clerk.

5. Make another dumbfounded expression when clerk passes it back to you, telling you to write "purpose of visit" next to each location you just wrote down on the itinerary. Indeed, I had to write "travel" about seven (7) times on that piece of paper. Not once, seven times.

6. Start sweating because you're hungry and it's taken forever to do this.

7. Panic when clerk takes out a thick stapled printout and starts looking for information on a problem item. [Note: save your time and fill in "N/A" on every single item you left blank. Nothing can remain empty. Even that item about your secret Pakistani granddad.]

8. Once prompted, take your passport to the security guards standing near the copy machine. Two (2) copies of your passport photo page, one (1) copy of your China visa page. They even take the time to give you a receipt. That's service. [Note: it's 1RMB per copy. There goes another three (3) kuai. Make your own copies at home if you've got the means.]

9. Bring copies and passport back to clerk. We're almost done, kids!

10. Tell the clerk whether you want to come back to pick up your passport in person or whether you want it express delivered. I try to reduce the chances of losing my passport via Chinese post, so I opted to pick it up in person. I don't know how much they charge for delivery, but I'm guessing it's a lot, like everything else involved here. If you opt to return to the office to get it, please remember to bring your receipt and the copy you just made of your passport photo page, which has since been stamped and noted in the office system.

11. Come back in "about" six (6) business days. If you calculate in your head and ask the clerk to confirm ("Today's Monday...so 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...can I come next Tuesday?"), don't get angry when he just repeats "'about' six (6) business days." It did not comfort me when another clerk nearby giggled at my question. [Note: Yes, the day you hand in your application counts as one (1) of the six (6) business days. Also, you can check the status on the visa office website, www.vfs-india.com.cn (using the confirmation number at the top of your receipt).]

When the clerk filed my application, I asked him if we were finished. He nodded. I looked at the clock on the wall behind his head. The whole affair had taken one (1) hour. ONE. HOUR. I put my things into my bag and stood up, shaking like someone who had just experienced a great trauma (car crash, oven explosion, knife attack, take your pick) and was wrecked with adrenaline. I survived.

Total time spent: about one (1) excruciating hour
Total cash spent: 765 RMB (497RMB for visa fee, 100RMB for "visa referral fee", 165RMB for service charge and 3RMB for photocopies), not including transportation costs
Total mental and emotional cost: Unknown, current technology cannot track that high
Total energy exerted (i.e. equivalent food consumed that morning) before hands started shaking: one cup of coffee, one apple, one piece of toast
Total pay-off for all this trouble once you actually visit India: I'll let you know when I get back.

Now I need to wait about six (6) business days to see if my visa is approved or not. I really hope they don't find out about my Pakistani granddad.

[Editor's Note: Yes, he got the visa. Onward to India!]

Information:
India Visa Application Center
2/F, Guangdong Development Bank Tower,
No. 555 Xujiahui Road, Shanghai.
Helpline: 021-6390 1198 or 6390 1937
E-mail ID: infosha@vfs-india.com.cn
Open from 8AM to 3PM

Khmer Dream

(Or, Everyone Should Visit Cambodia. Really. Trust Me. Part 2)

Apsara Orgies with Shiva and Vishnu

(Or, Temple Hopping in Ancient Angkor)

The roto-blade of the small airplane whizzed precariously close to my head. Though protected by the body of the plane, I was certain that if the propeller decided to spin off, it could definitely slice through the thin metal chassis and turn me into a ground meat smoothie. I sat back into my seat and tried to fall asleep. Luckily the flight from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap was only 40 minutes.

On the ground at Siem Reap International Airport, the busiest airport in the country, we met Hol Ny (as in, "Oh, me so"), our tour guide and babysitter for the journey, and Pov ("pohv"), our trusty driver. Ny ("nee," as in "The Knights Who Say"), a tall and lanky 29 year old from Siem Reap with a 2-year old son and aspirations for a career in IT, would prove to be an invaluable cultural broker and friend, his kindness and honesty a refreshing glimpse into a land and culture that we could only view as over-privileged outsiders.

In the early morning haze, before the misery of the high-noon sun could beat us into submission, we rushed into the wilds to begin our first day of temple hopping in ancient Angkor.

Thanks LP. Follow our route with the little red dots.

Angkor Field Guide, Day 1:

Driving north along the bumpy road leading into the heart of the Angkor Archaeological Park, we passed a children's hospital surrounded by a horde of dirty babies and tots waiting for free vaccinations. Across the street, tourist shops sold overpriced goods for over quadruple the monthly salary of the poor parents waiting in the vaccine queue. Tourist buses carted loads of Koreans and Japanese from upscale hotels to the temples, along new roads paved by funding from their overseas countrymen. The crowds increased as we drew near to the entrance. Visiting during high season was a great idea.

Once tickets are purchased (one day, $20; three days, $40; one week, $60 USD), you must hold on to them. Checkpoints at temple entrances and along the roads within the archaeological park make spot checks to ensure people have paid (heftily) to visit these treasures. You'll want to keep the ticket handy (most tour groups provide lanyards to hang around your neck), lest you waste time searching for it in your pocket or pack and end up swamped by the little urchins that flood the tourist areas to peddle their goods.

These kids, ranging from Neil's-hip-height to Neil's-shoulder-height, are an aggressive little lot with admirable sales skills. For one thing, their English is good. Scarily so.

Sample entrepreneurial exchange:

Cute little tout: "Hello lay-deee, you buy scarf from meeee?"
Lady: "No thanks..."
CLT: "Lady, you so pretty. Wheah you frum?"
Lady: "I am from Malaysia..."
CLT: "Ooooooh, Ma-lay-see-ah. What's yo name?"
Lady: "Angela..."
CLT: "Oooooh, like an-johl ("angel"), An-johl-a, so plittee ("pretty") An-johl-a, you buy scarf from meeeee."
Lady: "Maybe later...."
CLT: "OK, pretty An-johl-a, lay-deeee from Ma-lay-see-ah, when you come out, you buy from me. I remembah youuuu. You buy scarf from me."

This smooth exchange was one of many, where the cute little touts mustered all of their English skills to make the sale. Ny told us that most of the kids went to school for half the day, then practiced their sales skills and English for the other half. 5 years old and already with a part-time job. These roving bands of children are everywhere.

Not surprisingly, I was the only one to succumb to their charms, buying a few things with USD that I thought would serve them better than those overpriced tourist shops. It was nearly impossible to haggle over a few bucks when I knew the same product was seven times more expensive in the shop. I later learned that it was not advisable to buy from them, as it promoted child begging and the money would go to the pimps anyway. Like China. Like Slumdog. I knew better, but those cute little faces...

And that's the second clincher. They are really cute. Overwhelmingly so. The little ones especially. Seeing a miniature princess with puppy dog eyes begging you to buy 1 USD's worth of junk is hard to ignore. When the fun and games end and they start to get desperate, it is tough. Walking away with a child begging behind you as you shut the door of an air-conditioned van in their face is not something I am proud of doing multiple times over the duration of the trip, but the cost of paying every kid that asked for 1 USD would have amounted to more than our entire trip combined. In the end, we purchased packs of biscuits and sweets, opting to hand those out to the kids instead of giving them our money. At least they were guaranteed to benefit directly from the caloric boost.

The little angel on the left was four-fingers years old, cutie on the right was nine-fingers.
(I was ten-ten-nine fingers to them. Or just crazy...)
We didn't have enough treats for all the kids (about 10 others not shown), so the big sis gave hers to one of the little boys.

Adorable

At our first stop, there weren't many kids, but a flood of Koreans. I tried to drown them out, but there were just too many anyang-haseos. We were overwhelmed and outnumbered.

Before us loomed the gates of Angkor Thom ("big city"), a massive compound established in the late 1100s, sprawled out over 9 square kilometers. While the Angkor Wat complex receives the bulk of the attention around here (rightfully so), Angkor Thom is an entire walled city (over ten times the size of Beijing's Forbidden City) containing vast amounts of archaeological riches.

Jayavarman welcomes you to Angkor Thom

Through the towering southern gate, topped with giant stone faces, the exploration of Angkor Thom should commence at its crowning masterpiece, Bayon Temple. Famous for over 200 massive stone faces of the same dude atop the gates (King Jayavarman VII, the most badass of Khmer kings) that smile mysteriously upon you from every angle of the creepy, layered maze, Bayon should be a priority.

"And that's where the Khmer Rouge ruined that, and that's where the Hindus defaced that..."

Weaving through the dark hallways of the first level, completely hidden from the melting sun and prying eyes of European tourists, past carvings of sexy apsaras (celestial dancers) and grotesque beaked Garudas, I almost lost my bearings in the shadows. Barely thin enough to squeeze through the pillars, taking great care to avoid lobotomizing myself on the low ceilings, I scurried around like a chipmunk on meth, so excited to live out yet another Indiana Jones fantasy that I almost bust a nut.

I'm actually stuck. Help?

One of the few with face/head unscathed

JUMP! Bayon Temple

I found a quiet staircase unencumbered by the weight of hundreds of tourist feet and ventured into the sunlight. Emerging onto the upper level via the steep staircases on each of the four sides, I could almost reach out and touch the giant faces (not advised, oil on your fingers damages the stone). Like all temples in the area, if you manage to visit Bayon when the crowds are thin, you will be overwhelmed by the scale of this project. We are all but tiny, meaningless, minuscule dots in this universe; King JV7 reigns supreme.

Steep Climb

Chillin' Like Jayavarman

Monks and Korean Tourists

The Official Bayon Head Nose-Picker

Hello Jayavarman!

Sick of these head shots yet? Not me!

And now it's time for a monk interlude. Check out those robes! Me likey.



And now we return to boring you to death with facts and learnings...

Walking north, we neared Baphuon, a foreboding temple dedicated to Shiva that looks like a stack of moldy Legos. An elevated causeway leads visitors to the gate of the temple, but it's cooler to jump off the path to check out what's below. Underneath, rows of endless pillars support the walkway. Once I hopped down to squeeze between them, I could see the temple from a totally different perspective. Like peeking under a young damsel's dress.

Below the walkway

Long, ain't it?

Baphuon was closed on the day of our visit (even archaeological restorers need a break), so we walked through the shady forest around the perimeter. On the western flank (the side opposite the entrance) is a monstrous carving of a reclining Buddha. Though unfinished, you can just barely make out the outline of Buddha's head. If completed, it would have been breathtaking.

Don't know if you can see it, but that hunk of rock on the right is the Buddha

Further north past a pair of bathing pools (large one for ladies, tiny puddle for gents), we were humbled by Phimeanakas, a steep pyramid that requires superhuman calves to climb. There's only one shaky, wooden staircase to go up and down, which is a pain in the ass when people start pushing. The other three wooden-stairless sides of the temple have big signs warning visitors not to climb the original, crumbling rock steps. I certainly wouldn't advise it unless you were a rock climber: at a roughly 60-degree angle, the ascent can cause vertigo or fainting for a lily-livered wuss as me. A pair of idiot Australians made a valiant attempt, forging ahead even after numerous tour guides tried to get them down. Embarrassed for my white-skinned brethren, I shook my head disapprovingly and from a safe distance, waiting patiently for my turn up the stairway of death.

Those idiots tried to climb this.

Logistic genius: only one staircase.

View from the top

State of disarray

The descent, though aided by those rickety wooden planks, is no less daunting, as the pressure of a row of tourists pushing behind you as you face a steep plummet to a messy death can create a ton of anxiety. The view from the top is nice, but unless you just have some inner voices ordering you to conquer another temple summit, just move on to the next stop and spare yourself the heat exhaustion.

Through the thicket of towering gum trees, we emerged from the forest onto the Terrace of the Elephants, an elevated patio set before the entrance to the leafy glen, which used to be a greeting ground for visitors. Super boring and not at all what I expected from something with such a superbly badass name. Lined with detailed statues of elephants fighting various jungle carnivores and a whole party of winged Garudas, it is essentially a stone stage. Yawn. The Terrace of the Leper King, so named for the mysteriously androgynous statue found at the center, is just an extension of the elephant stage. After a morning of Buddhist and Hindu sculpture and carvings at other more impressive temples, this was easily forgettable.

Dear Ganesh, please bestow us with LUNCH.

Garuuuudaaaa!

The high noon sun was brutal. Smearing the sweat from my brow with an already sweat-soaked bandanna, I gazed into the distance with a dramatic grimace. Across from the twin terraces, I noticed a series of curious towers looming near the tree line. Twelve in all, Prasat Suor Prat were allegedly used for tight rope walking. From tower to tower, acrobats would tip-toe across woven ropes, entertaining the royal families of ancient Angkor. In such a holy and revered space, I thought it was refreshing to see something so whimsical.

Cirque du Angkor

Near exhaustion, we stopped for a late lunch. The Cambodian national dish -- amok, a steamed curry-like mix of meat and veggies steamed in coconut milk -- was on the menu. Fried noodles, morning glory with chili, and baked fish capped us off. The typical food we had during the trip was much the same: similar to Thai but not as painfully spicy, similar to Chinese but with more pep and dynamic flavoring. We also enjoyed an Asian remedy classic: Coca Cola with salt, to replenish the loss from sweating.

Still craving this stuff. SO GOOD.

Once we had injected a much-needed dose of caffeine into our systems, we hit a personal highpoint on our journey, Preah Khan. For one thing, nobody was around. I don't care which temple you're visiting, but if you are lucky enough to have one all to yourself, soak that shit up because you won't be blessed with the same fortune again. Our luck was bestowed at the right spot. Preah Khan is a sprawling compound, with a seemingly endless procession of dank, spooky rooms that repeat like a mad M.C. Escher nightmare. In almost every room, a shiva linga (those magic cock rocks from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) sits peacefully in the center, the stone phallus representing the god of creation/destruction jutting into the air like a hefty rounded choad.

Modern Ablution: with bottled water

Those Angkorians must have been tiny.

Shiva wasn't the only guy destroying things around here. Buddhas were beheaded during the Khmer Rouge sightseeing tours. Nature has reclaimed part of the land by toppling hallways and collapsing roofs, portions of the temple torn apart by giant trees growing straight through the stone. In the center of the temple, a tall cavernous room has walls with countless empty sockets, looking like a crater-faced teenager with debilitating acne. These hollow holes were once filled with sparkling gems, which were allegedly swiped by the Frenchmen that "re-discovered" the Angkor temples. Peering up at the walls soaring high to the ceiling above, those crafty frogs made a killing.

Splitting headache

Tree reclamation: seeds/pollen dropped on stone, bird shit fertilizes, voila.

I'm sure a few Korean tourists are buried under there...

Look at all those gem-holes!

In a musty recess of the temple, Ny pointed to a tiny entrance that leads to a quiet side room that houses a shrine to one of the Devi sisters (my notes fail me here). If you don't smash your face open on the low lintel (really, it stings), climb through a second smaller door (more like a window) into an even tinier area with a hidden shrine to her sister, the other Devi lass whose-name-I-didn't-bother-to-record-in-my-notebook.

Cramped inside the suffocating womb, the smoke of incense and the smell of age enveloping us in a tight grip, her expressionless face peered out at us from the black rock. We were at the center of her universe, in one of the deepest crevices, all but missing from the outside world. Had her demon ghost decided to possess one of us and embark on a ravenous soul-devouring horror ride, no one would ever know. A superstitious member of our party got the heebie jeebies and ordered me not to take any pictures of this spot, lest any dark spirits accompany me back to Shanghai. I knew better. I was too spooked to turn my camera on.

Back in the fresh outdoor sun, we traipsed our way through the Hall of Apsaras, the former labyrinth where the kings personal sexy dancers would perform a private show for his majesty, flocks of these slinking girls undulating through the hallways. My overactive imagination could only concoct a fraction of the debauchery that went on here. Oh, to be a king.

On the way out, we passed a massive tree growing through the outer wall of the compound. One of the roots looks like an elephant trunk, thus giving it a catchy name for tourists to remember. This thing was huge.

Behold the trunk! (does it count as a pun?)

As my cohorts continued onward, I lagged behind to see it close up. Hopping down from the elevated walkway to the grass below, I ran past a towering pile of crumbled stone to the base of the tree to say hi to Mr. Elephant. Lying in a bed of crunchy fallen leaves, I peered up into the heart of the tree. Yellow and orange butterflies fluttered beside me and not a soul was around. All I could hear were the dry leaves rustling in the breeze and some insect chirps. My back on the ancient stone, sunbeams breaking through the trees and warming my chilled sweat, I could have drifted off into the happy land of afternoon naps. For a brief moment, Preah Khan was mine.

Top to toe

That night, we planned to join the throngs of tourists atop Phnom Bakheng, the highest hill in Siem Reap, for the famous sunset. Photographers flock here for shots of the sun setting over the misty western plains of Siem Reap. I didn't know what the fuss was about.

Pretty, but not worth fighting the crowd pretty...

Behold the gawking masses!

Bullet holes left behind by the lovely Khmer Rouge

We came early to beat the crowds, which was a smart move. Once we wound our way up the hill (more like a mountain), folks with tripods had already covered the western edge of the temple like grubby lichen. In an hour, the temple would disappear underneath the crush of triple the amount of revelers.

Waiting for the photo-op

We climbed the dangerous steps to the top, snapped a few photos, and then made our way right back down. The descent was bad enough without the pressure of the masses, so I couldn't imagine how big of a disaster it would be after sunset, when hundreds of idiots would vie for a chance to climb back down. I could only picture a disastrous scene involving crushed skulls and little tourist brats raining from the sky. These steps are no joke: Ny told us an old Japanese tourist fell down the steps at Angkor Wat in recent months, snapping a few vertebrae in the process. Fun.

JUMP! Phnom Bakheng

Safely off the temple, which was now flooded with gawkers, we fought our way through the mess of people marching the opposite way up the mountain. They would never make it in time, as the sun was already setting, but the constant stream was impressive. There must have been hundreds that passed us as we walked back down the mountain. I shook my head and giggled. The post-sunset surge down Bakheng would be a riot. Literally. And that view wasn't even that spectacular.

That night, we made our way to Bar Street (also called Pub Street, so very misleading), a hip and happening strip of shops and restaurants in the heart of Siem Reap town, catering almost entirely to the tourist trade, bars and eateries surrounding the old market at the center. This was a lot more lively than Phnom Penh, more akin to the busier sections of Singapore's Little India or Arab Street at night. We enjoyed a filling (and cheap!) meal at Khmer Kitchen, made famous after a fabled visit by Rolling Stones head geezer, Mick Jagger. The food was worth the fuss and we returned to our hotel filled with beef lok lak (stir fry topped with a fried egg), shrimp lab (super spicy stir fry) and Angkor beer.

Khmer Kitchen, located in "The Alley" off Pub Street

Shrimp lab

Beef lok lak

Khmer spring rolls

Shoes covered in our first day's worth of Angkor dust, we needed to get our rest for Day 2 and the magnificence of Angkor Wat.

For comparison's sake, wiped one shoe off, left the other one filthy. It is THAT dusty here.