The unglamorous side of traveling

I wanted to write about all the things wrong with London's Heathrow and British Airways, but I have been struggling with this post since I have been back from Dublin, because too many negative things happened, and I didn't know where to begin. Although we all live in a time when most people have had some kind of flight experience, I feel that I need to share some parts of what happened to me, because, I often talk about my travels and how wonderful they are, but  I rarely discuss all the problems that I face when I go anywhere. (photo credit: RDNE Stock Project)

I've been traveling since the day I was born, and I have been kept at airports, questioned to death, my luggage ransacked by security, and all the receipts in my purse looked at with a microscope so that they can catch me in a lie. I have been banned from entering the country where I live until I had to prove that I was not a criminal, gone through cancer-causing shuttle-looking contraption where multiple people got to see me unclothed (this is what they see when you get scanned). I have been poked, prodded, patted down, stripped-searched because they thought I sold drugs, and you name it, it has happened to me. And although I realize that these experiences may not be unique, I'm tired, tired of being treated like a terrorist each time I pass through security to a point where I'm asking myself, is it worth it to travel anymore? (Photo credit: bAlexas-Fotos)

This time around as I passed through London's security, and missing my connecting flight because British airways screwed up, I found myself angry, angry enough to want to scream. Of course, I couldn't do that. So, what happened? Well, Heathrow's security took away my passport, currency, credit cards, and lost it. After a substantial amount of time passed, it was found in another passenger's bin. Lucky for me, the passenger who returned it was honest. (photo credit: Eugenia Velasquez)

On the way back, all I had was a small carry on which was confiscated by British Airways. They said that my carry on was too big. Mind you, the same exact carry on that I was allowed to take with me on the airplane from London to Dublin, was now too big on the same size airplane from Dublin to London. When I pointed this out to British Airways' staff, they had no answer. And here's the thing. I measured my carry on before leaving Los Angeles, and it was smaller than their "Required size." Also, as I sat in my seat, I noticed other passengers coming in with carry on much larger than mine, and not only that, they had a lot more junk than the maximum two item limit. (photo credit: Gustavo Fring)

To say that this trip was exhausting would be an understatement. I got sick from all the stress when I got home. My suggestion is to not take British airways. They are super disorganized, change gates too many times, and their seats feel like you are in solitary confinement. Don't waste your money on their business class either because it's really not a business class. To save space and squeeze another dollar, they are set up like Yin and Yang, and if you're traveling solo, you'll be staring at a stranger's face. If you want to use the bathroom, you will have to climb over someone or they have to climb over you. As a solo traveler, should you decide to go this route, at least don't get a window seat, and the one next to it. Stay in the center so that you don't have to climb over someone. Even when you buy your seat ahead of time, British Airways may change your seat to somewhere else you don't want to sit and send you an email with a dumb excuse which is what happened to me. (photo credit: JC Gellidon)

Try to pass through a different airport than Heathrow if you have a choice. Their flight boards are inaccurate. It sent me to the wrong terminal. The British airways app is not any better. The excruciatingly crowded airport with long lines is the size of a country as you run from one end to another, up and down escalators which sometimes may not be working, into a bus or on an automated airport transit, and back on the ground with more walking/running. Don't trust gate numbers or British Airways security. I showed them my passport and ticket because I was at the right gate. They checked my documents and let me in. Then I had to scan my passport for the 10th time. It didn't work. A rude employee let me wait for a longtime until I kept complaining about their scanner not working, and not wanting to miss my flight again. He looked at my ticket, rolled his eyes, and said because their flight was going to Zurich. The irony was that it was their own employee who sent me through that line. and the guy at the gate was looking at me as though I was the stupid one. (photo credit: JESHOOTS-com)

And by the way, London is tremendous on facial recognition. If you're coming in from the U.S, they will take your photo multiple times as if you had reconstructive surgery from when they photographed you minutes ago. In Dublin, on my way back, I couldn't buy a sandwich without allowing the machine scan my airline ticket. These are crappy times. But I have to say that Dublin's security is kinder than London's. (AI photo designed by Freepik)

A lot of other things happened to me, but there is not enough room here for me to explain. When I told my family and friends about all the mishaps, they considered themselves lucky for staying put. Am I exaggerating? Google all the awful things that have happened to people who took British Airways or have passed through Heathrow. If you are determined to go to Heathrow, make sure that you have a minimum of 3 hour layover. Trust me on this. (photo credit: Sweder Breet)

And what's the verdict? Will I travel again? Am I spoiled because all of this sounds like a first world problem. Perhaps. But no matter. I still wish that I could be drugged or fall into a deep coma before passing through airport security. I used to be more tolerant, but after years of being abused, things are starting to affect me. (photo credit: Alana Jordan) 

So, there you have it. The not so glamorous side of traveling.

 

Side note: Don't make a single mistake, double and triple check everything to make sure you follow the rules to perfection before passing through security. One mistake can cost you their wrath, unlimited scrutiny, and your sanity.

 

 

 

It takes a day to make a friend 

I'm getting ready to go to Dublin soon to do research for a new book. So, my life has been a bit hectic for the past month as I try to get some things out of the way, leaving me little time for social media and blogging. My mom used to be my travel buddy because we got along well on trips, but since she passed away, I travel on my own, and meet people along the way. (Photo credit: Diogo Palhais)

It's hard to keep in touch with those who live abroad. In my lifetime, I have met hundreds of people all over the world. Good-hearted people, fun to hangout with. But at the end of the day, you know that once you leave the country, life kicks in, and you lose touch. Except that once in a while, there comes a person you befriend for a day or two, and you may not talk for years, but you may still reconnect. That happened to me in Hong Kong when I met my friend Dominika. (photo credit: Robert Anasch)

 

We met on a tour with Danny. I wasn't sure if she would even remember me because it has been six years since we last spoke. She lives in London, not too far away from Dublin. She told me long ago that if I ever wanted to travel again, to let her know. So, I texted her, and to my surprise she not only remembered me, but she wanted to meet up for two days. We're both really excited to hangout again. (photo credit: Michal Pokorny)

 

We already made plans for what we're going to do on the first day when we meet. I know that it's just two days, but still...Obviously, I'll be in Dublin for longer than two days. I don't think I'll be doing all the touristy stuff. My main goal is to learn about the Dubliners, their city, and their culture, and to figure out the logistic of where everything is located. It should be an interesting trip. (photo credit: Karsten Winegeart) 

(Photo Credit: Valerie)

Uji, The Tale of Genji Museum, and Murasaki Shikibu

I did a few off the beaten path excursions in Japan. Before my trip, I accidently came across a book titled The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu. Her work is referred to as the world’s first novel. And I just had to read it. So, I bought the 1200 page or so book and began reading. Unfortunately, I could not finish it because the Protagonist, Hikaru Genji, has no redeeming qualities, and I didn't care about what would happen to him as the story unfolded. I laughed so hard when I read someone’s review on Amazon: “look, I read this book for class...all you need to know is that Genji's a ho.” A blunt review, but not far from the truth. Also, I would not call this book a novel because there is no story, but rather a series of sentences strung together. Apparently, the last third of it was written by someone else. Of course, this book has been translated to English. Perhaps if I was able to read it in its original archaic language, I would have liked it??

Anyhow, just the fact that Murasaki was ahead of her time and decided to write a novel impressed me. I also gained some knowledge about her as a lady-in-waiting, the Hein period, and the aristocratic life in the 11^th century Japan.  So, I decided to stop by Uji on my way to Nara to visit The Tale of Genji Museum. Uji is a beautiful city also known for their high-quality green teas.

My tour guide, who took me there, didn’t know anything about Murasaki and didn’t care. He said, “It’s a girl thing.” But later, as we visited different temples, he realized her importance in the Japanese society. When we arrived at The Tale of Genji Museum, he simply went to sit somewhere and didn’t want to bother to go through the museum with me. There was an English audio guide, but it had technical difficulties and wasn’t working and the explanations were in Japanese.

The above photos are scenes from the novel. It’s about Genji, the women he courted, and life during that time period.

There is also a small library and a shop. I bought a few of the photographs which depict Murasaki during different seasons.

Uji is worth a half-a-day trip even if you are not interest in literature. There are small tea shops, a lovely scenery, the Byodo-in: a Buddhist temple, and tea plantations.

Chinatown

They say there’s always a story behind pictures. Well, I’m no photographer but lately my mom hasn’t been feeling all that well and I drive for an hour once a week to Chinatown so that she can go see a Chinese herbalist and acupuncturist doctor whose office is at the end of a Chinese mini-market. It’s quite an interesting atmosphere. The aroma of herbs and specialty foods linger in the air as I wait for my mom to be poked by bunch of needles.

For those of you who have never tried it and are squeamish, acupuncture doesn’t hurt as long as you hold still and try to relax. It’s a strange feeling the first time you do it. It has a tingling sensation. Sometimes if you have injured an area such as your back badly, you will feel more of a discomfort, especially if the tiny needle sits on a bone but it’s only a discomfort at most.

Anyhow, during one of my visits to Chinatown, I decided to take some pictures for my blog and share a corner of an old culture in Los Angeles for those of you who are thinking about visiting my hometown. I say a corner because to a tourist it doesn’t seem that complicated, but if that tourist had a Chinese friend as I do, then the traditions and the benefits of the items on the shelves and the history and meaning behind each peace of what seems like knickknacks to the average westerner becomes much more complex than that which was originally anticipated.

The first time I was introduced to Chinatown by a friend, who was born in Hong Kong and speaks Cantonese as opposed to Mandarin which is more common in the rest of China, I was simply amazed. And this will not be the last time you will hear me talk of it. As I learn more and more myself, I will share my experiences with those who stop by my blog. So without further ado, here are some pictures my amateur eyes and hands took. I hope you will enjoy them.

Below is a photo of the metro taken from a parking lot. The green structure you see isn’t exactly your typical modern Los Angeles look but rather designed to blend in with the rest of the Chinatown architecture which is what gives it a special charm. You may click on any of the photos to see it enlarged with more details.

Here is a street view East of the Saigon Plaza.

The Saigon Plaza is packed on weekends and at times it's impossible not to bang into someone. So you must watch out for your wallet and purse! Street vendors sell anything from fresh sugar juice as they put the sugar beets in their special blenders to decorative Hello Kitty pillows to jewelry and hair decorations, purses and luggage, t-shirts, socks, toys and whatever else you can imagine for very reasonable prices.

Here is a mini-market with all sorts of Chinese delicacies, diet teas, green tea candies, dishes, pots and pans and an herbal pharmacy where you can only buy herbs with a prescription from the herbalist and acupuncturist doctor who works here.

And so my mom was hungry after being poked by needles and we ended up eating at a quaint hole in the wall called JC Café.

The friendly girl working in front stops passersby and offers them samples of fruit smoothies, cold boba milk teas and sometimes appetizer-sized chicken or pork.

And alas, I order our lunch as by now I’m hungry as well. The girl behind the counter is really nice as she explains the dishes. Now, I’m quite familiar with the “American” version of Chinese food, but here I need to be careful because if I don’t ask, I may end up eating chicken feet or some other body part for which I don’t care for, especially since I’m a vegetarian and my mom ...well, let’s just say she doesn’t care for “creative” delicacies she's not used to eating.

I ordered a green tea jasmine boba. No pix as it came in a Styrofoam cup and looked pale, but nevertheless, it was tasty and definitely different.

My mom's egg rolls and my freshly made wild mushroom chow mein arrives but by the time I’m ready to take a picture, my mom has already taken a bite of her egg roll. So, sorry about the half egg roll.

My mom’s Pork Won Ton Soup. She insists on me trying it. So, I break my vegetarian promise to myself and try it. It’s really delicious. I feel guilty as my mom offers me another piece. I say no way.

Okay, so after we chowed, we walk a bit further down to an outdoor mall named Chinatown. Here is a picture of the end entrance of it before we walk in.

A wishing fountain.

Kids throwing in pennies and dimes and making a wish.

A beautiful building. Inside there are some shops and to my left which you cannot see here is a bakery. I did stop by to buy Chinese rolls to take home but the line was way too long and I left.

Another wishing fountain. Whereas the other one had better landscaping, this one has a really detailed fountain.

A girl and a couple making a wish and an amateur photographer tourist.

I thought the name of this shop was funny – Sincere Imports. I suppose they couldn’t have named it Insincere Imports because people would be hesitant to shop there.

As you see, you can find just about anything here from fake jewels to kimonos and wallets made of various silk fabrics.

More shops and walking areas. It was such a beautiful sunny day with a cool breeze coming through.

Side walk cafes and lots of lanterns.

Last photo: The front entrance of the mall.