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Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Japan

Konnichiwa, Tokyo!

Arrival in Tokyo, Japan

Of all the countries I had already been to, I hadn’t been to Japan. I was excited to visit Japan when I was about 12 (never happened; I just wanted to go) and over time my interest waned. I kept hearing about how great it was, but I remained lukewarm. Sure, I love Japanese horror movies and Hello Kitty, and I am fascinated by their weird porn culture, but none of it motivated me to buy a ticket. And then I was hopping around Asian capital cities and the time felt right. And Tokyo astonished me.

The more I travel, the more difficult it is for me to be surprised by a place. Places start to remind me of other places. I get more savvy. Things get easier. But Tokyo surprised me on numerous levels. Sure, it has a lot on common with other big East Asian capitals, but it was also so distinct. The food, the social interactions, the culture – even basic things like using machines to order ramen or flushing some of the very complicated toilets – so much of it really took me out of my element and I loved it. (I will say right now: yes, the toilets are weird and complicated, and I think heated toilet seats are disgusting but some of the other features were pretty nice.)

I arrived in Tokyo from Kuala Lumpur on a flight that got me in just after midnight, so I was unable to take the train to my Shinjuku hostel. Not feeling too disappointed about that, as I was eager to get to my accommodations, I got into a taxi. It was weird right from the start. The taxi looked like an English black cab and the driver was wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie, like a casting room castoff from Reservoir Dogs. He wore a chauffeur’s cap and had short but shaggy grey hair that I wasn’t sure was not a wig. I couldn’t tell if the man was 30 or 70. He seemed like a young man playing the part of an old man in community theatre. He spoke a little English, which he used to tell me long winded stories about animals that turned out to be jokes. The whole thing felt weird.

Sleeping Capsule

We pulled up outside my hotel at about 1:30am on a busy, bright street. The Shinjuku Kuyakusho-mae Capsule Hotel. Picking it wasn’t difficult. I knew I wanted to stay in Shinjuku, and I knew I wanted to stay in a capsule hotel. This place was cheap and met my criteria. I thought that staying there might be a penance in exchange for a neat experience, but it was great. I was on the women’s only floor and had a floor level capsule, which I found super cozy. It had a roof-mounted, old-fashioned CRT TV that played whatever was on Japanese TV, wifi, and power outlets. Unexpectedly, it also came with pyjamas, slippers, towels, and pretty much every toiletry you could think of was available in the shower/bathroom.

The only downside, I guess, was the common area room had only vending machines, so you have to go out for coffee (unless you want coffee in a can, which I didn’t but drank anyway). In the common area, with so many men and women wandering around in pyjamas (identical, except that the men wore grey and the women pink), it felt like I had joined a cult. And I was ok with that.

I was so excited about the lively neon washed streets and my cool cult sleeping cubby that I didn’t want to sleep at all. But I did. For a few hours. And then it was time to finally see Tokyo.

But first, coffee

My first stop was the Meiji Jingu Shrine, but first coffee and the subway. I was staying in Shinjuku, which, as far as I could tell, was the epicentre of everything I wanted from Japan: tight vertical neon signs, ramen shops, tiny bars and restaurants, lots of young people in cool street style clothes, and cute things.

I was looking for a café – not something that Japan is known for – but I found an excellent, bright, and modern café where I had a perfect cup of coffee, followed by a French pastry of some sort. I’m not usually a big pastry eater but it was very early, I was starving, and most things were not yet open. I have to say that it was possibly the best pastry I have ever had. I’m not a foodie. I like to eat but food is not an important part of why I travel; that said, sometimes the food in a place is so great or unusual that it becomes a part of the trip (like Myanmar and Georgia). Tokyo was awesome for food. Everything I ate, no matter how cheap, was perfect. Being a vegetarian and being on a budget there made things a little more challenging, but I could always find something delicious to eat. The ramen. The strawberries. This pastry.

After I had my coffee and perfect pastry, I went to the subway station to go to the Meiji Jingu Shrine.

In a Station of the Metro

The Tokyo subway system can be a little bit daunting. There are numerous lines and as far as I could tell it was difficult or impossible to get a ticket that would be good for all of the subway lines all day. When entering the subway station, you’re confronted with banks of machines that sell you tickets, but different ones in different spots, and it wasn’t entirely clear to me whether each machine would sell you tickets for all the lines or not, but I never had any trouble buying a ticket and figuring out where to go. It just took a bit of time of staring at the map and plotting out routes. I know it’s not fashionable to have paper maps anymore, but having a paper map of the Tokyo subway system was super convenient for me. All in all, the subway was amazing. It wasn’t very expensive, it went almost everywhere in the city I wanted to go, and it was a joy to ride.

Sometimes I felt like a big oaf, not knowing where to stand (some trains have different queues for different trains at the same time on the same platform) and being taller than everyone else, and being one of the only people not wearing a mask but no one gave me a look – well, except one time when I accidentally knocked a man over and his CANE fell out of his hand. Yeah, that wasn’t my best moment. I just repeated “I’m so sorry” over and over as I helped him up. Even then though no one really acknowledged me, except the man I toppled. Weirdly though he seemed to apologize to me.

That was one thing that stood out to me about Tokyo. I felt invisible No one looked me in the eye or spoke to me or acknowledged me in any way unless we were engaged in a commercial transaction or unless I specifically spoke to them, and in the latter case they didn’t seem too keen to talk to me. It was bizarre.

Shrine Time

I arrived at the station near the Meiji Jingu shrine (Harajuku Station) and walked to the shrine.

I walked through Yoyogi Park with its tall trees. It was very quiet; it was hard to believe that it was right in the middle of the city. The shrines (dedicated to the Emperor Meiji and his wife and built in 1920) were lovely. Peaceful. There were places where people could write down what I assume were prayers or wishes and tie them to structures around trees. It was lovely. I’m not in any way a spiritual person, but I certainly can appreciate beautiful trees and serenity.

There was one astonishing tree near the middle of the temple complex. It was enormous and so perfectly round that it almost looked like a cartoon tree. It was one of the first of what I can only say are extraordinary trees that I saw in Tokyo. When I hear people talk about Tokyo, I never hear them talk about the trees, but I saw several trees there that were so beautiful that they look like they should have been in paintings. It really stood out to me.

From there I walked over to the Harajuku neighborhood, famous for its youthful wacky fashions and cafes. Admittedly, I was there too early. I should have gone later in the day. A lot of the stores were closed or just opening when I got there. So the street was quiet and didn’t have a lot of what I imagine is the energy that it would have later in the day, but I still enjoyed walking around. It was interesting to see the odd cafes that they had, like an otter café, a micro pig café, cat cafes, dog cafes…it was random.

And cafes for Sanrio characters, and stores selling cute costumes and wigs and so you can dress up like a living doll. It was interesting. What was also interesting was walking around that neighborhood off Takeshita Street where there were some cool cafes (without animals) and clothing stores. I stopped and had coffee and looked at some random art and window displays.

From Harajuku it is just a short walk to the Shibuya crossing; That famous intersection that gets flooded with pedestrians walking in every direction imaginable. The best way to get a view of it is to go to the roof of the building. but that wasn’t open when I was there, so I went upstairs to the Starbucks in a record store and from there I got a view of the intersection. I have to say it wasn’t as dramatic as I expected it to be, but it was a lot of people walking in all directions and it’s a quintessential Tokyo sight, so I had to see it.

Ah, Ramen

I made my way back to Shinjuku, and had a bowl of ramen en route. I’m not usually a ramen fan, but in Tokyo I am. I am ashamed to say that I needed help ordering from the machine the first time. (I don’t know how I was screwing it up; pushing the buttons in the wrong order or something.) It seems that in most ramen joints, you order from a machine before sitting down and then your ramen is wordlessly delivered to you. Excellent. No perky server bothering you to ask, “How are the first few bites tasting!” Just leave me in peace to slurp my soup.

Smoking Cigars in Shinjuku

I went back to my hotel my capsule to get freshened up. I had plans for the evening.

About 20 years ago I worked at a La Casa Del Habano (cigar store) in Vancouver and the manager of the store at the time was a fellow whose family was from Hong Kong. We didn’t stay in touch, and he had since move back to Hong Kong. But on the day that I arrived in Tokyo, he and his wife happened to be arriving in Tokyo from Hong Kong (discovered via Facebook). He messaged me to see if I wanted to get together. I did. This turned out to be one of the best parts about my trip to Tokyo, not only because I got to see my friend from so many years ago, but because he and his wife are very familiar with Tokyo and speak a bit of Japanese and they were able to introduce me to some things that I probably wouldn’t have been able to do on my own. Thing one: finding may be the best place to smoke cigars in Shinjuku.

We went to a bar on the 4th floor of a building in Shinjuku that looked completely unremarkable. If I didn’t know there was a bar on the 4th floor I would have never known to go upstairs, but once upstairs it was one of the most perfect bars I have ever been to. It was tiny (sat about 12 people), it was dark, it had an incredible selection of whiskeys and drinks, it was long and narrow like a train car, it played excellent jazz music. The bartender was dressed almost identically to my taxi driver the night before: black suit, white shirt, black tie. And of course, the best thing, you could smoke cigars inside. I met my friend and his wife up there and we sat and smoked cigars and caught up, reminiscing about old times and catching up on new ones. It was so much fun and felt so civilized to be able to smoke cigars inside.

We left the bar and went over to one of Tokyo’s yokocho (alleyways) that are lined with tiny restaurants. This one: Omoide Yokocho.

More commonly known in English as “piss alley” for reasons that I probably don’t have to explain. It is a tiny little alley near Shinjuku station, lined with teeny tiny little eateries. The eateries are just counters (no tables) and the chefs cook up the food in front of you and serve it on tiny plates. I guess it’s like izakaya, but there seems to be a distinction between izakaya and a yokocho eatery that I don’t understand. Almost everyone sitting at those counters is smoking and drinking beer or tiny thimblefuls of what I assume is saki. It’s so charming and so picturesque that is exactly the sort of place that I would have wanted to go and eat but would have not really been able to eat on my own.

None of the signs are in English, of course, and I speak no Japanese. Even looking at the food that they are serving I couldn’t figure out what it was. Is that tofu or fish or egg? I had no idea. But fortunately, my friend did, so we sat down at a bar in a tiny little eatery next to a man gleefully and drunkenly polishing off a pack of cigarettes with his drinks and snacks. My friend ordered me a tiny little plate of objects that vaguely resembled food. He assured me they were all vegetarian. And they tasted great.

It was a wonderful introduction to an area that I would have not been able to fully enjoy on my own. It was a good reminder of the fact that as much as I think solo traveling is the absolute best, it is excellent to be able to connect with people in local areas and have a different experience.

We parted ways and I went back to my capsule, totally content after one day in Tokyo. Had this been my only day in Tokyo, I would’ve been pretty happy, but I had more time and there was more to see. The next day would bring more sights, more ramen, and a new weirder accommodation.

Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Malaysia

Batu Caves, Sightseeing, & A Weird Conversation in KL

The Batu Caves

My second day in Kuala Lumpur, I got up early to go to the Batu Caves. Mountain caves reached by rainbow stairs like the ascent into a gay pride heaven? With mischievous monkeys? Sign me up. While it does have picture perfect rainbow stairs and cute monkeys, it is a proper Hindu shrine to Kartikeya, aka Murugan (aka a lot of other things), a Hindu warrior/scholar god (I’m sure that is an oversimplification) and inside the cave, in addition to all of the tourists, are people engaging in prayer and ritual. But whether you are pious or curious (I was the latter) it is a great place to visit.

The Batu Caves are very easily reached from Kuala Lumpur by train. You could take a tour or an uber, but that seems silly when, for a few bucks, you can be whisked there by rail.

I took the train and made two stops. I wasn’t expecting the second one, but the train stopped, and all passengers had to get off. I was only momentarily confused – until I saw the sign pointing me to the platform from which to continue my journey. At the other end, you walk out of the station and it’s just … right there.

There are some smaller temples. Very colourful and thick with depictions of various deities. There is also a huge statute of a monkey god, Hanuman.

In addition to the temples are outdoor cafes and people selling flowers and coconuts and snacks. It all feels lively.

Going in the morning was a good idea. It wasn’t too busy or too hot. The steps look like a lot of effort, but it’s not that far and lots of people are stopping to take pictures, catch their breath or fend off monkey advances.

Inside it is dark and cool and the air has plumes of incense smoke from the temples. There isn’t much else to do there. There are some art displays and birds, but really, you’re there for the temple, which is visited relatively quickly.

I had a cold coconut and trained back to Kuala Lumpur.

An afternoon wander

In the afternoon I wandered around to a lot of the same places I had the day before, had some more laksa, and stopped into a new cigar lounge, also steps from my hostel. Unlike the one the night before in the Petronas Towers, this one felt like an authentic Havana lounge. Very nice and a good selection of cigars, including some rare ones.

I took the train over to the mosque to visit it (it was closed to visitors at the time) and then went to the Museum, which was excellent.

Evening

In the evening, I had dinner with the girl I met at my hostel, the girl from Netherlands who was about the be a lawyer. We had a nice dinner after walking around the city looking for a suitable place to eat. Kuala Lumpur is busy at all hours, and I liked the liveliness. I wouldn’t say I loved Kuala Lumpur, and it didn’t excite me, but I certainly liked it. I could imagine living there for a time.

The final morning…and a weird conversation

The next day I had to leave for the airport at about 11 am, so I went for a final walk around the neighbourhood. A fellow tourist offered to take my photo in front of the Petronas Towers, which was nice, to have a picture of me that is not the usual selfie.

Back at my hostel, I sat out front with a coffee and a cigar until it was time to leave. A fellow at the next table started talking to me, asking questions about my cigar. He joined me at my table. He was in his early 30s and from a smaller city near Kuala Lumpur, but had gotten divorced and moved to the city for work, traveling back often to visit his five kids. I asked him how he liked living in Kuala Lumpur. “I love it,” he said, “there are so many MILFs.” Of all the answers he might have given me, that was not once I could have guessed. He told me he “loves Chinese MILFs” and the ones in Kuala Lumpur were the best. He showed me pictures of some of his lady friends (all attractive Chinese women in their 50s), including one who produced porn movies, he said.

It’s always interesting to talk with strangers; you never know who you will encounter. I don’t know why people feel comfortable telling me about their sexual proclivities (I swear I don’t initiate these conversations), but they do, from the guy in Colombia who told me about his first sexual experiences with a donkey to the guy in Iraq who told me about how he married the woman his parents approved of but how he has been having a years’ long affair with his true love, to the guy in Canada who told me that his sexual fetish is watching ISIS decapitation videos during sex…people just tell me things. I always say that one of the great things about travel is that it reminds me that, fundamentally, people are all the same – including that people everywhere have their sexual secrets.

I ended my conversation with ‘MILF Lover’ and headed to the airport on the train. My next and final stop on this trip would be Tokyo.

Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Malaysia

Arriving in Kuala Lumpur

From Brunei, I went to the third stop in my trip: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I didn’t have great expectations for it. I don’t know why. I was curious about what it was really like, after hearing some many people’s rants and raves about the place. I was a blank slate. Maybe it was because I expected nothing that I kind of loved it. I don’t mean I loved it like I love some places (the pulse quickening, imagination sparking places). It wasn’t a 10/10, but it was a place I enjoyed and could imagine living.

The airport was easy. Visa free. The next thing I liked was that there was so much public transportation. I mean, it is a major city, so it should have a good network of trains and whatnot, but there are plenty of big cities that don’t. I was happy. It has an MRT, LRT, a commuter train, and a monorail. Excellent. The monorail was my favourite. Riding it is like being in an amusement park, zooming over the city with windows on all sides, leaning to the side around every corner.

I hopped on a train and went right to my hostel from the airport. I was staying in the Kuala Lumpur central area (KLCC). About a five-minute walk from the Petronas Towers. It was the business district. As I got off the train and walked to my hostel, it was about midday and, apart from the humidity and the tropical plants, it felt very familiar. Business people and places for steaks and after work cocktails – even a cigar lounge. I felt quite comfortable, like I was in Manhattan.

I was staying at The Bed KLCC, a hostel located on the upper floors of a shiny high-rise in this businessy district. It didn’t have a hippy or backpacker vibe, but it was one of the most impressive hostels I have stayed at. I had a bed in a female dorm room. Everything was spotless. My bunk was huge and had a near blackout curtain. Inside it had lights and plugs, a makeup mirror and a little shelf that works well as a laptop table if you sat on the bed. The bathrooms were great and had all the amenities you could think of, and more. There was a stylish hangout area that felt like a library and a huge kitchen/eating area. And it was about $17/night. Canadian.

From my hostel I walked over to the Petronas Towers. You can’t really escape them; they are always visible. In photos I didn’t think much of them, but they are impressive in person. Gleaming silver and lit up at night.

I took the train to Pasar Seni and walked around Chinatown. It was lovely. The buildings were low rise and colorful, historic, and often with murals. I am not a foodie but so many places looked like they would be amazing to eat.

I went to a hawker centre and walked up and down the Petaling Street market; clearly geared towards tourists, but it was fun.

I had a tofu drink (and bought a pair of sunglasses I surely did not need) and then meandered over to the Central Market.

*me in Chinatown sporting my new sunglasses*

The Central Market is an indoor market/small mall in a pretty, pale blue art deco building. Inside, I had an amazing bowl of vegetarian laksa from a stall with Elvis cassette tapes on display.

I walked over to the Sri Mahamariamman temple, which looks beautiful, but it was closed for repair, so I took the MRT over to Bukit Bintang to stroll down the colorful mural alley, which lived up to its name.

There is an excellent food street near there with a seemingly endless stretch of restaurants with outdoor seating, but nothing really appealed to me and it was so busy that I worried I would offend someone with my cigar.

*“Special Parts” on food street. I’ve no idea what a “torpedo” is.*

However, what caught my attention was near the entrance to mural alley was a small neighbourhood with lots of middle eastern restaurants. I walked back that way and settled in on the quiet patio of a great little neighbourhood restaurant selling Iraqi street food. (Tarma Iraqi Street Food.) Iraqi falafel is maybe the best falafel in my opinion, so I had to have some. And shisha. And coffee. It was great. A perfect spot that felt away from the other tourists.

I walked back to my hostel. A long walk, but super enjoyable, meandering through the streets.

Back at the hostel I met the girl across the bunk from me: a nice young woman from Amsterdam who had recently finished law school and was on a long solo backpacking trip. We chatted for some time and made plans to do something the next day. (Hostels really are the best for meeting people.) But I wasn’t finished with the day yet.

I had a tip from a friend about a cigar lounge on the 57^th floor of the Petronas Towers (Martini’s on 57), so that is where I decided to finish the day. It only took me 5 minutes to walk there but about 30 to figure out how to get up (there are two towers and numerous doors). Once I headed up, I found myself in a very plush cigar lounge with sumptuous leather chairs, dim lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the city. It was great.

I ordered a martini and asked to buy a cigar. (I had cigars with me, but I wanted to see what they had for sale.) Rather than letting me into the humidor, the man brought me a tray of available cigars to choose from. I selected a Ramon Allones – a good sized Cuban cigar. After making my selection, he instead suggested I have a cigarillo, saying it was popular with “the ladies”. I shot him my coldest of looks and said “Just the Ramon Allones please.” This is a very specific cigar rant, but why he would he think that someone who requests a Ramon Allones by name (and can pronounce it) and who has arrived with their own cigar cutter would want a cigarillo is beyond me. Sexism I suppose. However, the weird, gendered treatment worked in my favour because apparently it was women’s day (?) and that got me a free cocktail. My indignation subsided and I was left to enjoy the impressive views and the gentle smoke.

That cigar cost more than all three of my nights at the hotel combined, but it was worth it.

A lovely end to my first day in Kuala Lumpur. The next morning I would visit the Batu Caves.

Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Brunei Darussalam

Brunei Darussalam

I flew from Manila to Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei. It was one of those places I knew little about but decided to go to because I was in the area, so to speak. I would be there for about 36 hours, which was just right, I think, for a visit to the capital. Since Brunei is a bit lesser known, here are some fast facts…

Fast Facts

Brunei Darussalam (Or just ‘Brunei’, if you’re cool) is a teeny tiny country on the island of Borneo (surrounded by Malaysia) in South East Asia. It is a bit bigger than Luxembourg, but smaller than Rwanda. Most of it is rain forest. About 500,000 people live there. It was controlled by the British until 1984 when it gained true independence. It is a Muslim country. The capital is Bandar Seri Begawan, which is where I was visiting.

I feel like the things that Brunei is most famous for its (1) being wealthy [oil]; and (2) the Sultan. The Sultan of Brunei, Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin Waddaulah ibni Al-Marhum Sultan Haji Omar ‘Ali Saifuddien Sa’adul Khairi Waddien (or Hassanal Bolkiah ibni Omar Ali Saifuddien III for short), is currently the longest serving monarch in the world. He has been on the throne since October 1967. (When he assumed leadership, Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was a brand new album.) The first time I heard of him was in the 1990s when a lawsuit was filed in the US alleging that he invited beauty pageant winners to Brunei and then kept them as sex slaves. (The lawsuit was dismissed because he’s the Sultan.) Here’s what seems to be verifiable about him: He loves excess and pomp and circumstance (a visit to the museum is a must do – the palanquin alone is worth a glimpse because of its scale). In the 2010s he adopted Sharia law into the penal code. Although he ultimately rolled back things like death by stoning and amputation, it’s still pretty strict. It’s illegal not to attend Friday prayers if you are Muslim and alcohol is banned.

Back to the travel report…

I arrived in Brunei at about midnight. The border crossing was easy and I went to take a taxi to my hotel. The thing that proved problematic was paying for the taxi. There was no public transportation at this time of night so the taxi was my only option. The issue was, I didn’t have any local currency (Brunei Dollars) and all of the currency exchange facilities at the airport were closed. I tried the two ATMs at the airport and neither of them worked with either of my two cards. Fortunately, I had a stash of US dollars on me and so I approached two of the taxi drivers that were hanging around out front of the airport (the only two taxi drivers that I found) and I negotiated a ride to my hotel. It was a little bit frustrating because I didn’t have small enough bills and so I ultimately ended up overpaying I think for the taxi ride. So my advice is when arriving at the Brunei airport late at night, make sure you have cash in small denominations (and in perfect condition – the taxi drivers would not even accept bills with creases).

I arrived at my hotel the Qing Yun Resthouse Bandar, which is perfectly located right across from the waterfront in a very central location and it’s also extremely affordable. It was brand new and spotlessly clean however my room didn’t have any windows, which was less than ideal. Whatever, I would only be there one day.

*windowless room at Qing Yun Resthouse Bandar*

The man working at the hotel (the only person I saw at the hotel) also didn’t speak English. Brunei is one of these places where English is not widely spoken and I had (admittedly) made little to no effort to learn any Malay, so communication sometimes was a challenge, but again I relied on my excellent charades and awkward smiling.

The Terrestrial Sights

My initial impression of the capital was that it was not that impressive. It just looked sort of ordinary. That initial impression was softened as I saw ‘the sights’ and explored a bit more.

On my way in from the airport I had passed a couple of incredible looking mosques by the side of the highway I never did make it back to them. I tried to snap a couple of pictures from the taxi window and failed miserably but even in the blurry captures you can still get a sense of the grandeur of them.

My first stop was the big Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque. The Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque is definitely the most recognizable site from Brunei, and rightly so. It’s spectacular. It looks like something out of a fairy tale; huge, white, golden gleaming, and sitting in the middle of a pond; every angle of it is astonishing. It’s not astonishingly old, however; It was built in the 1950s.

I walked around it and attempted to snap a couple of selfies and then eventually went inside for a look at the interior which was lovely. The men outside who were working on the grounds were very friendly everyone wanted to know where I was from and to chat as best we could.

The thing that was a little bit disappointing about Brunei was that when I arrived it was cloudy and raining, which I figured would spoil my photos. How wrong I was! My favourite photo of the big mosque ended up being the one with the stormiest looking skies. The clouds lifted and the sun came out later and I went back to take more photos, but I didn’t think those had the same atmosphere.

I went to the Royal Regalia Museum. There is more than one museum, but I only went to the one. It’s worth going to learn about the history of Brunei and the Sultan and look at the artifacts and riches of the Sultan and his family.

The Aquatic Sights

Beyond that, and without leaving the general downtown area of the capital, there isn’t much else to do in Brunei itself – on land. There are however some excellent excursions that can be made on the water. From the waterfront there are boats floating around and as I walked along the waterfront several of them would slow down and call out to me to see if I wanted a ride. One man who spoke a little English engaged in conversation with me and I told him I was interested in seeing the floating village and the mangrove forests and he agreed to take me out. I forget the exact price, but it was quite cheap.

We went out for about an hour or so, first through the water village of Kampong Ayer. It’s a small village located on the water (houses on stilts and floating structures) just off the shore from the capital of Brunei. About 10,000 people live here. Apparently, it has been a village for centuries, although at this point the houses all look quite new.

We sailed around the village looking at the different houses. We didn’t stop anywhere to visit anyone, although I understand that is possible.

From there we went into the mangrove forests past thick walls of green trees. Going this way was quite interesting, and it gave us a view of the Sultan’s palace rising above the treetops, shining white.

One of the great things about going into the mangrove forests in Brunei is that if you’re very lucky you’ll see the proboscis monkeys, otherwise known as the ‘big nosed monkeys’. It was pretty extraordinary: we didn’t have to go very far before we saw them up in the trees; maybe about four or five of them. They were sitting and hanging out and sort of jumping from tree branch to tree branch, and I could definitely see their noses which were in fact, well, kind of like penises or potatoes, and very large. I tried to get some photos but they were all useless. This is the best one:

The only other wildlife that we saw on this trip was an alligator who had drowned and was floating belly up in the river and was quite bloated. I’m not going to post that picture because it’s very gross.

The under-looked thing about taking a boat out in Brunei is that if your boat captain is cool (and mine was), you can smoke on the boat. In addition to alcohol being banned in Brunei, smoking is pretty much banned. It’s not illegal to smoke, but the smoking restrictions are so severe that I couldn’t find a place enjoy a cigar. You can’t smoke inside or on sidewalks or on patios or balconies or in parks or on paths… And I was told that you will be found and you will be fined. As far as I understand it, the best place is to get a smoking hotel room, and those do exist; but I didn’t have one of those, so I was delighted to get to smoke on the boat, even if it was just cigarillos and not a full cigar.

Back on Land

After my boat adventure, I had lunch at a little cafe near my hotel which was quite nice, and I chatted with the owner as I was the only person there. We talked for about an hour, and he gave me his feelings about living in Brunei, which seemed to be lukewarm at best.

I spent the next couple of hours just walking around the city.

I visited a picturesque Chinese temple: Teng Yun temple.

It was at this point that I felt like I had really done everything I wanted to do in Bandar Seri Begawan, and I was satisfied that my flight was leaving that night. I had dinner at a local restaurant, Curry and rice that I think cost me about $2.00. It was delicious.

And that was my trip to Brunei. A lot of people had said that it wasn’t worth going to, but I don’t agree. I think every place is interesting and every place is worth visiting – some places for a short time and some for a longer time. I feel like I did Brunei justice. I wouldn’t go back, but I’m glad that I went.

I slept for a short time in my hotel room waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight to my next destination: Kuala Lumpur.

Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Philippines

Manila: Markets to Mausoleums

My second day in Manila was better than the first. I had already explored Malate, Intramuros and the areas in between. On day two, I went to Chinatown and the Chinese Cemetery.

Chinatown (aka Binodo) lies just across the Pasig River and to the right from Intramuros if you are looking at a map. There were numerous ways to get there, but I took the LRT, which was very easy and super cheap (about 30c CDN). The only downside was that they required (at the time) that you wear a face mask, which surprised me in 2023, but I fashioned one out of my scarf and that seemed to be good enough. The train ride was nice because it was high above the ground and gave glimpses over the city and into more modest looking neighbourhoods.

From the train (LRT) stop at Carriedo Station, I was just around a corner from a large, oldish church (nicer on the outside than inside), and an excellent market area. It was just what I wanted. Very busy streets with vendors selling produce (including more excellent fruit), household items, and hot dishes of the mostly meaty variety.

I filled my bag with mangosteens and settled in at a stall where one of the women spoke English and hooked me up with a plate of something tasty that seemed to be vegetarian.

It was a really good area. I saw women selling special “wishing candles” – like prayer candles, but different colors, each for a different type of blessing. That was different. I don’t believe in that sort of thing (and I didn’t need any candles) so I didn’t make a purchase. I thought ‘oh what a quaint belief to think that you can wish for things through candles’…and then my briefly judgmental mind realized that this is precisely the purpose of blowing out birthday candles.

From there I walked around Chinatown a lot. I didn’t have a particular objective; I just walked the streets. It was very hot, and I used that as an excuse to duck into a few cafes. There were lots of picturesque streets and churches to keep me occupied.

As well, there is a mosque (Masjid Al-Dahab or the ‘Golden Mosque’) that women and non-Muslims can enter (prettier on the outside than the inside).

After Chinatown, with a stomach full of mangosteens and red bean buns, I hopped on the train again. This time I was going to the Chinese Cemetery (from Abad Santos LRT station it is an easy walk to the South Gate Entrance). I had earmarked that as something I might visit if I had the time, and I did, so I went. I am glad I did.

The Chinese Cemetery is the second oldest cemetery in Manila, and it is huge (over 50 hectares). The reason to go is not necessarily because there are famous people buried there (there are some, but none who were known to me); rather, the purpose of the visit is to take in the spectacle of the grave sites or shrines. Themselves. It looks like a city, with streets lines with what look like proper houses (big ones), but they aren’t houses. They are the burial places for families or individuals. Some of them you can look into and there are chandeliers, photos on the wall, and marble floors. They looked like posh foyers. But they’re graves.

One had sad American country music playing. Another had dogs inside. Presumable (hopefully) someone was there visiting.

Mostly the place was empty and quiet. A bit eerie, but in a nice atmospheric way.

You can actually rent bicycles and ride around, which would have been nice, and there are guides who will find you and offer you guided tours of the grounds if you would rather learn instead of just gawk. I think it is worth a visit. Even if you don’t like graveyards, it is a nice place for a quiet stroll.

This took up much of the day. I took the train back to Malate and went to the Sheraton Hotel because I read that they have a rooftop bar and I thought it might be a place for a cigar. Well, they do have a rooftop bar, but it was closed. What I did find was a rooftop smoking area for hotel guests. I wasn’t a guest, but no one was around, so I went outside and found the most delightful rooftop oasis area. A little waterfall and tropical trees and plants, tables and chairs (and ashtrays) with a view over Manila. Very civilized. I sat down and enjoyed a cigar. (Ok, and took a selfie or two.)

*Don’t i look like I should be staying at the Sheraton?*

At one point a man joined me and chatted with me (assuming I was likewise staying at this fancy hotel and not sharing bathrooms and my hostel down the street). He invited me out later, but I declined as I was flying out that night (which I was), but I assured him I had had a wonderful stay at the hotel (which, in a sense I did).

I spent the next couple hours at my hotel, packing and enjoying a final meal on the roof top patio of my true accommodations before taking a taxi to the airport. Onward to Brunei.

I am glad I went to Manila, and I am happy with the two full days I had. I could have filled a third day, but I felt ready to go. I do think I might return to see something of the natural beauty of the Philippines, but not any time soon. There is still more I want to see elsewhere.

Asia Asian capital trip 2023 Philippines

Arriving in Manila

I decided to do a whistle stop trip of a handful of capital cities of closely clustered Asian countries. I was curious about Manila and had long put off a trip to Tokyo. Brunei and Kuala Lumpur fit in nicely. I had 11 days, and I booked my flights meticulously. The first stop was Manila. A 14-hour direct flight from Vancouver.

I know that most people visit the Philippines for the beaches, and the country does look beautiful, however, I was mostly interested in the city; a city that I had heard nothing good about. In fact, the thing the Manila was most famous for, for me anyway, was karaoke. I had read that the patent holder for the karaoke machine was from Manila and that Manila was karaoke crazy; so much so in fact that there had been a series of murders in Manila based around people singing Frank Sinatra songs in karaoke clubs. When the singer sung the song badly—and usually that song was ‘My Way’—people in the audience became enraged and on several occasions this resulted in murders. I haven’t fact checked this, but there is a Wikipedia page and multiple articles about it. As a Sinatra fan and person with a bit a fascination in all things morbid, I was curious.

I’ll tell you right now that I did not do karaoke when I was in Manila. What I was looking for was that club experience. I imagined some sort of dark room full of inebriated locals singing Sinatra songs and torch ballads. I wanted to try my luck; however, when I got there, yes, there were lots of karaoke bars, but they were all the kind with private rooms where you go with coworkers or family members or friends and sit in a sofa and sing to a small TV screen in privacy. That wasn’t the experience that I wanted. I probably should have looked harder. Next time.

Beyond karaoke murders I don’t really know what I expected from Manila. Sometimes I think that’s the best way to approach a place because there’s no chance that you’ll be disappointed.

I checked into my accommodations: the Stay Malate Hostel at which I had booked a small, dingy, but clean and serviceable room with shared bathrooms and I set off to enjoy and explore the city. It was in Malate, which seems to be to be a perfect place to base oneself. Walkable to the sights and surrounded by an authentic, lively and central neighbourhood.

Manilla had a good energy. It was busy and friendly and welcoming and didn’t seem off-putting or dangerous, despite some of the reports that I had read. I think the thing that surprised me most on first appearances was how much it felt like a Latin American country? That assessment may be way off base, but walking around seeing palm trees with coconuts and architecture that wouldn’t have looked out of place in South America, Catholic churches, Spanish sounding names, etc. It just didn’t feel like Southeast Asia.

I was staying in Malate, which is a central area. It was very busy. The streets seemed to have an endless array of what appeared to be strip clubs, karaoke bars, all you can eat meat BBQ joints, and local shops. I devised a sort of a walking tour around that area looked at local monuments and churches and squares; it was all very pleasant, though nothing in particular caught my attention.

The thing that so far was my biggest take away about Manila is the transportation. It was fantastic. There were so many different means of getting around, and all of them excellent. There were buses and taxis, trams and trains, but on top of that there were jeepneys, which as I understand it at one point were modified American World War 2 jeeps that were tricked out to be a form of public transportation. The ones that I saw in the street certainly weren’t that old, but they did still have that look: the front of a Jeep but then a long body and decorated like the chicken buses of Central America with religious pictures and words, art, fringes, velvet lights flashing, and music playing. The back was open with two long benches inside and people just sort of hopped in the back and paid their fare and went on their way. I only rode one once for a short distance. I wasn’t entirely sure what the destination was or how I would know where it was going so one point, I just hopped on one and rode it for a ways down the street in the direction that I was heading and then eventually hopped off. Maybe that’s the way they’re supposed to be used.

There were also two and three wheeled means of public transportation. There were motorcycles that people just rode on the back. There were motorcycles with weird high benches next to them where you sort of sat on an open metal platform next to and higher than the driver of the motorcycle. There were bicycle rickshaws. There were motorcycles with little carts in front that you sat on. And then there was my favorite: the motorcycle sidecar.

I’ve always wanted to ride in a motorcycle sidecar and while this didn’t look exactly like the ones that I had imagined whizzing me around Paris in World War 2, it was pretty outstanding. It was a little rickety motorcycle with sort of a gray semi enclosed seated compartment next to it. Like a little cage. It looked like it might become detached at any moment and I was sitting very low to the ground but it was wonderful to sit inside and have the sights whiz by me and have the air in my face – a little bit like riding in a tuk tuk, but much dodgier.

From the central area I walked up to Rizal Park which was filled with people. It was Sunday and everyone seemed to be out picnicking or playing sports blowing bubbles and eating cotton candy. It wasn’t really my scene, but it was pleasant for a wander. I looked at the fountains and at the public art that was on the edge of the park.

And then I continued on, determined to walk to the central historic area Intramuros . Walking there was a mistake; too far and dull for a walk on the main road. At any point I should have gotten on one of the many methods of public transportation, but I was stubborn and didn’t realize that it was as far away as it was.

Somehow I overshot my destination and ended up at a small slum next to a river. It wasn’t a big encampment, but it was right across the river from one that was fairly large and equally if not more dingy. Families were living in tents cooking with open fires and selling food and snacks and objects to the other residents of the encampment. It didn’t seem dangerous at all; and it was interesting for a wander except for the fact that I did feel desperately out of place it was clear that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I don’t think people appreciated me gawking at them, so I did a loop and went back the way I came, eventually finding my way to Intramuros.

Intramuros was objectively lovely. It looks very Spanish colonial with perfectly maintained buildings in bright colours and ornamentation, cobblestone streets, gorgeous squares with trees and statues, and impressive churches. It was postcard picture perfect; it was not however particularly exciting. I walked around and I had a cigar. I tried an unusual drink made of soft tofu and brown sugar and had lunch at a cafe that had vegan Filipino food (Delicious), which was the only time that I got to try any sort of local food while I was in the city.

Once I was finished exploring that area I walked back in the direction of my hotel towards the park and through the centre, but I did visit the National Museum of Fine Arts. That was excellent. It was free and full of a range of artworks by local and international artists.

Back in Malate, where my hotel was, I walked around and looked for a place to eat. That wasn’t the easiest, vegetarian-wise. There were lots of delicious local fruits but when it came to actually eating a meal in a restaurant there wasn’t a lot to choose from. I ultimately ended up having dinner at my hostel on the rooftop patio, which suited me just fine. The food there was good and cheap it had a view of this busy streets below and there were there was a handful of elder backpackers there with whom I could chat and share mangoes.

I went out after dark and eventually found a place where I could go and sit and have a juice and smoke a cigar. Smoking in Manila wasn’t the easiest of things. Most restaurants and cafes didn’t allow smoking on the patio and the interiors were entirely smoke free, so over the two days and three nights that I was there, the patio at my hostel became something of a haven. The night scene in my neighbourhood was very lively. It was full of super busy restaurants and bars; everyone seemed to be out until all hours of the morning and there was a lot to look at. I enjoyed it even if I wasn’t out partaking.

*Pineapple juice and a Saint Luis Rey robusto.*

It was a pleasant first day. I enjoyed myself. I wasn’t blown away by Manila, but I was glad to have seen it. As far as first days go, it was fine – and I can’t write off the fact that I may have been suffering from serious jet lag after my 14 hour direct our flight from Vancouver. I slept very soundly that night and had plans already for day two, which ended up being much more to my liking than day one.

Europe Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022 Turkey

24 hours in Istanbul

I was flying home from Juba, South Sudan, capping off my Sudan/South Sudan trip. It had been glorious. It had been exotic. It had been hot. So, on my way home, I was delighted to have a 24 hour layover in one of my favourite cities: Istanbul. Istanbul is great for a proper visit, but after that, layovers, from short to long, are excellent. Pop into the city, even for a few hours, smoke some shisha, get lost in the Bazaar, ride the ferry from Europe to Asia and back again…there are so many excellent options. I was glad to be back.

The thing that was different this time was that there was a new airport and the metro line connecting it to the city was not complete (update: the train is now running), so I had to take a taxi. It took longer than the train would have, but it was a nice drive with views I had never seen. Best of all, the driver and I smoked in the cab on the ride. How civilized. How wonderfully old fashioned.

I arrived in Istanbul just before sunset, to beautifully overcast and golden skies and flocks of seagulls cresting on the wind. The air felt blissful. I loved the heat of Sudan, but the cool, moist air of a November evening in Istanbul was welcome.

I ditched my backpack at a cheap, central, and unremarkable hotel and went out into the evening. I walked over to the square between the Blue Mosque and the Aya Sophia and took in the views. I didn’t go into the Blue Mosque this time but did go to the Aya Sophia. There was no queue and since I had last visited it has been changed from a paid entrance ‘museum’ to a free entrance mosque. Regardless of what they are calling it, it is one of the most beautiful interiors I have ever seen.

I walked around some more and had a feast of Turkish appetizers for dinner, along with some shisha, tucked in under a blanket on a patio.

In the morning, I had breakfast at the historic “Pudding Shop”. I had seen it many times but never gone in. At whatever ungodly hour it was that I was out on the hunt for coffee, it was the only place open. It has a fascinating history. Its nickname is the Pudding Shop, but is actually called the Lale Restaurant and was opened by two brothers in 1957. In the 60s it became popular for travelers, and was the meeting point for hippies and vagabonds on their routes east into Asia. It had a bulletin board for people looking for rides and it had a bohemian vibe apparently, with books and bands. It doesn’t have that vibe now, but is still comfortable, with good food and a Turkish diner vibe. Lots of news articles and photos to look at. It’s more of cultural/historical interest these days, but I would go back.

With a stomach full of coffee and lentil soup, I walked over to the Grand Bazaar for a wander, which is always a delight. I had a couple of Turkish coffees and looked around. After that I continued to wander, but was mindful of the time and traffic.

I got a taxi back to the airport with enough time to enjoy the lounge.

And so ended my trip to the Sudans and my 2022 travel year. It was a good one.

Africa South Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

The Sights of Juba

My second day in Juba started when I awoke at the lovely Acacia Village Hotel. I wish I had better pictures of it, but as with the rest of Juba, photos are technically not allowed. All around the hotel grounds they had signs forbidding photography. (So there is no photographic evidence of how ~~great~~ sweaty I looked smoking my cigar and sipping on pineapple juice under the trees.)

While yesterday I was a solo vagabond, today I would be escorted around by a driver who would show me the sights of Juba. I don’t normally think this sort of things is necessary (and I much prefer to walk than drive), but with Juba,not being the safest of places, this was my best bet to see the city.

Money Matters

The first order of business was exchanging money. I had come from Sudan where credit cards and ATMs are non-functional, so I had wads of pristine US cash and Euros, but no Sudanese Pounds. The driver knew just the spot. He took me to a small supermarket/general store (not fancy but tidy and well stocked) and the cashier let me exchange money.

I ended up with a fistful of Pounds, each bearing the round head of John Garang de Mabior, one of the leaders of the South Sudan independence movement and the first VP of South Sudan…for 3 weeks. (He died in a helicopter crash.)

Not on the money, sadly, is Salva Kiir Mayardit, the first President of South Sudan. You will seldom see him without his trademark cowboy hat, reportedly a gift from George W. Bush. I must admit to finding that detail rather charming. I feel like if you are going to be the leader of a conflict riddled country you should have a signature look. Say what you will about Idi Amin or Mobutu or Muammar Gaddafi or similar despots – they all had signature looks. Like Karl Lagerfeld.

Take note that the amount of money I had in my hands was far too much for my remaining time in South Sudan and I was unable to change it back, so if you are reading this, and planning a trip to South Sudan, hit me up. I have some Pounds to sell at a good rate.

To Market

From there, we drove to the central market of Juba, the Konyo Konyo Market. I loved the market. It didn’t feel at all tense or unsafe; it was just a regular African market, colorful and lively, with produce, housewares, textiles, food vendors and whatnot. My guide said it was ok to take photos around the market (but he also told me when to not take photos). Lots of women getting their nails done, men selling hookahs and clothes, and so many items I could not identify, but looked to my untrained eye like rocks and sticks.

*Hibiscus flowers and…other things for sale*

We walked around the outside of the market a bit and even took a selfie.

Shipwreck

From there we went to what is probably the most photographed place in Juba, the Afex River Camp restaurant. It is very popular with visitors, expats, and locals who have the money. A nice, outdoor restaurant along the banks of the Nile, under shady trees. You must go through security to enter the compound, but once inside the gates it feels like a haven. We had coffees and water and chatted, while I watched kids climb up a giant tree to grab fruits. Maybe mangoes, but I can’t be sure.

Not only is it a nice spot, but it is the best place to see the most famous sight in Juba: the sunken ship in the Nile. It is about as iconic as sights get in Juba. It is a passenger ferry, half sunk in the Nile, and just…sitting there, stuck. It is incredibly picturesque, sitting at just the right angle and surrounded by foliage. My guide didn’t know a lot about its history but said it had been there for about 10 years or more. The best info I could get was that its engine had just failed and it floated and got stuck. I had been hoping for a more dramatic tale.

*Nile Boat with children in the tree on the left*

It is very tempting to swim out to it, but the multiple warning signs about crocodiles is a sufficient deterrent.

Congregants and Cows

Rested and fuelled, we drove around, stopping at a church to take in part of the ceremony. The place was packed, and people sat outside on the steps and grounds to listen to the sermon.

We drove across the bridge, over the Nile and stopped to check out a herd of the long-horned cattle for which South Sudan is famous.

Plans Thwarted

I had wanted to leave Juba to see a bit of the countryside and maybe drive to a village or something, and my driver was game, but said we may not be allowed to leave Juba. We drove down a rode on the outskirts. Just as the buildings faded away and were replaced by landscape, there was a road block. A rope strung across the street and a mud brick and corrugated metal shack to one side. Men standing around. We were motioned to pull over. A man came up to the driver’s window and they exchanged some words before the driver told me he had to go to the “office” (the aforementioned shack). I waited in the car for a few minutes and then I was asked to join them.

One man sitting at an empty wooden table asked to see my papers. It was impossible to know if there were police or soldiers or just dudes. I handed him my passport, my stamped e-visa, and registration document. He looked and them and then said that if I wanted to leave Juba I needed a special permit. We went back and forth on this for a bit, but he would not agree to let me leave the city. I don’t know if I truly needed a permit or if he wanted a bribe, but he didn’t give me any signals that a bribe was needed. (He didn’t say anything like “Perhaps if you could give me some tea money” or anything like that. Didn’t even ask about money.) So we left and turned around and drove around a bit more.

*Streets and Sights* *(the photo at the bottom is a row of street side barbers)*

Market of Giants

It was fine though because we were able to visit a rural feeling market that I guess was technically in Juba, but it really felt quite apart from the city. I don’t know the name of it, but it was a fairly large market. A collection of shacks, or three walled, roofed structures, extremely modest, on a few streets of dirt surrounded by open, flat barren-looking land. The places sold mostly food items: produce and meat, spices, flour, coffee, that sort of thing. It was market mostly for the Dinka people.

The Dinka are a tribe from the area of South Sudan about 4-5 million in number and traditionally have a pastoral lifestyle and polytheistic religion, though many have converted to Christianity. The thing the Dinka people are most known for though is their height. They, along with the Tutsi people of Rwanda, are the tallest in Africa, which probably makes them the tallest in the world. I know that usually the lists of the tallest people put Netherlands at number one, but I wonder if those fact collectors are overlooking Africa altogether, because I have never seen people this tall in Amsterdam. The Dinka are shockingly tall, and thin, which adds to the look of their height. Many of the men wore western style clothes, but the women wore skirts and dresses of traditional African textiles. Watching everyone parade up and down the market streets, it looked like a convention of super models. I am 5’9” and I felt short.

I don’t have pictures of the market. I took a couple and then my driver said that I shouldn’t, so I put my phone away.

We walked around and then sat in some plastic chairs in the shade of a thatched roof and had ginger coffee, watching the market activities.

Concluding Juba

That was about all there was to see in Juba. It was a good day. I returned to my hotel and spent a relaxing evening smoking cigars and having dinner.

*Wine, popcorn, and a cigar. The traditional evening treat in Juba.*

That was my final night in Juba. There is more to see in South Sudan. It is a country with some beautiful landscapes but there is no infrastructure, so it is nearly impossible to see on your own at this time. There are some multi-day tours that one can book to visit the Mundari tribe and spend time with them and their cattle herds. It looks fascinating, but I’m not a group tour person and I was out of time on this particular trip. I was glad to have seen Juba. To see a bit of a country so new and, unfortunately, so troubled. It’s only 12 years old though, so it hopefully it finds greater stability and prosperity in the future. Maybe not in my lifetime though.

That was it for my Sudan/South Sudan trip. The next morning I would leave for Canada, but via Istanbul, where I would have a lovely overnight layover.

Africa South Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

A Jaunt to Juba, South Sudan

I knew when I planned my trip to Sudan that would have to add on a trip to South Sudan. How could I miss a chance to visit the world’s youngest country? So I added a brief trip to Juba after I left Khartoum.

A Bit of Background

South Sudan was a part of Sudan (then the largest country in Africa) until 9 July 2011 when it became an independent nation and the 54^th country in Africa. Those sorts of shifts seldom happen peacefully, and South Sudan is no exception. In the end, there was a referendum to secede, but that was after decades of fighting for independence. Between the mid 1950s and 2005, the region that became South Sudan went through two civil wars and the unrest continued. The result was that there was no real infrastructure in the area of South Sudan and when it became its own country that was still the case, with factions on many of its provinces fighting each other. (As I always say when I try to sum up historical or political events, this is Wandering North, not Poli Sci North, so if you want a proper account of South Sudanese independence and politics, look elsewhere.)

South Sudan is not known for a lot of things, but what it is known for often is poverty. It is always on the UN list of least developed countries. Today South Sudan does get a share of the money from the oil reserves located in its borders, but it is Sudan that gets the bulk of it. There is not much else in terms of industry or resources. Most people live in rural areas and on less than a dollar a day.

Life in South Sudan is hard. It has the lowest rate of literacy in the world. It has poor access to health services, nutritious food, clean water, etc. The life expectancy is about 55 years, making me a senior citizen.

The other thing South Sudan is known for is violence. Canada advises not to go there under any circumstances due to risks of violence and armed conflict. It is regularly on lists of the ‘most dangerous countries’. But that sort of thing has never stopped me. So I booked my ticket and applied for my visa.

*Canada’s travel warning for South Sudan when I went*

Getting In

I did need a visa to go to South Sudan but, remarkably, they have an e-visa system. You do the paperwork and apply and pay online and get your stamp at the border. It is very expensive, but not difficult. (As least for me. I’m Canadian. Other passports may have different experiences.)

I flew from Khartoum to Juba, the capital of South Sudan, on a direct flight. The border was not a big deal. A bit intimidating, but no hassles.

Due to the lack of infrastructure in South Sudan, there is no public transport to the airport, so I arranged to have my hotel pick me up, and it was comforting to see my name “Mr. North” on a sign at arrivals. I got into a nice SUV and was driven, like a dignitary, to my accommodations: the Acacia Village.

Accommodations

South Sudan is poor, but it is not inexpensive to visit. There are lots of hotels and drivers and some restaurants that cater towards people working for aid organizations and NGOs, like the UN. But there is no budget traveller level of services. Of the available accommodations that looked remotely appealing (there are no hostels or cute backpacker spots), Acacia Village was by far the nicest. It is a lovely spot, just a bit outside of Juba’s city centre, filled with trees and cabins surrounding a pool, and an outdoor bar/restaurant. The perfect place to spend time in charming comfort. Visually, it met all my needs. It was just as pretty as the pictures. I loved my cabin, taking a morning dip in the pool, and having evening cigars in the courtyard. But it wasn’t cheap, and it lacked the normal services I thought they should have provided (like daily housekeeping or being able to tell me where to change money). I found that a little annoying. On my first day I was entirely without cash because they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell me where I could exchange some bills. Nevertheless, it was lovely, and I would stay there again.

Wandering Solo in Juba

Day one I had no plans except to see what I could see of Juba on my own. The challenges here were that walking along in Juba is strongly advised against due to it being unsafe, and I had no local money, and was not about to walk around and ask people where I could change my cash. (Why not just wear a “rob me” t-shirt?) But I did go out and walk around.

I left the Acacia Village compound. Two sets of gates with armed guards and high walls with razor wire were all that separated me from the outside world. I was a little intimidated by that, but once I was outside, it felt…fine. I am not saying it was safe and I was certainly on guard, but during the day, I felt safe.

*the Acacia Village gates (taken the next day from a car)*

I attracted a lot of attention as I strolled around, ghostly white and dressed in black. Tattoos peeking out. I was a curiosity. But people were nice. Lots of people said hello and asked me how I was. A reasonable mix of smiles and stares. I can’t blame the people who just stared. I may have actually been an idiot for walking around on my own.

*A selfie i snapped as i stepped out in to Juba*

I think the reason it is considered unsafe on the streets is just that people are so poor. And there is a real problem with men getting very drunk on dangerous homemade alcohol and going kind of nuts. Could I even blame someone for wanting to rob me, when they have nothing? Not really, but I didn’t want to take that chance, so I took nothing with me but my cell phone, some cigarillos, and a lighter.

Juba is not an attractive city. Unlike most capitals, it does not have centuries of being a capital city. It is brand new and wasn’t much of city to begin with. There are no museums, galleries, or stately capital buildings, or picturesque anything. Just streets and low rise, quickly constructed buildings. Aside from the few hotels catering to ex-pats, there is really nothing nice or new about it. But it has an energy. The streets were busy; lots of people out playing soccer, riding and washing motorcycles, modest shops, and houses.

The thing that really stood out was how young everyone was. The average age in South Sudan ins 18.6 years (and the median age is 16.7 years). Tons of young-looking men were everywhere. And they looked pretty cool. Especially the ones that were very into their motorbikes. Unlike in Sudan, in South Sudan most people are Christian or followers of animist religions, so gone were the modest robes and head scarves; most people here were dressed in a more western style. Skinny jeans and t-shirt was a common outfit for the young guys in Juba.

I wish I had more or better pictures, but photography is not allowed. There are, I would find out the next day, some places where it is unofficially allowed, but I didn’t know that on day one, so I just snapped a few quick pictures as i strolled.

And that is basically all I did on day one. I just got a feel for the place and got over the nervousness of wandering solo.

I spent the evening, as planned, at the Acacia Village, with a couple of cigars and dinner.

The next day I had arranged for a driver to allow me to see a little more than I could on my own, which would include the proper ‘sights’ of Juba.

Africa Sudan Sudan-South Sudan trip 2022

Day trip to Naqa and Musawwarat es-Sufra

My next day trip from Khartoum (after visiting the Meroë pyramids) was to go to Naqa and Musawwarat es-Sufra. As I talked about in the Meroë post, it would be super easy to get to Meroë on your own, but not so with Naqa and Musawwarat es-Sufra. They are about 30km off the main road and 20km apart, so even if you got yourself to the right spot along the road, you would have to walk quite far into the desert. So I think it would only be realistic if you brought lots of water and were ok with camping out as needed. This did not appeal to me, so I got a driver for the day (a nice man named Osman) from my hotel (the aforementioned and incomparable Acropole).

We drove north from Khartoum, stopping for coffee at a roadside shack for some excellent Sudanese spiced coffee. We drove into the desert, stopping at all of the road checks, where my permit to leave the city (the Acropole took care of this), my visa, and my visa registration were all checked repeatedly.

We also stopped so that Osman could show me a camel, tied by a rope to a wooden lever, whose job it was to walk in circles. As he circled, a mortar in the centre would crush sesame seeds into oil and paste. A camel-powered tahini machine, basically. I did feel bad for the camel, but who really likes their jobs anyway? It was interesting and I met the owner of the operation who had armfuls of cash. (this may be more a refection of mass inflation than his wealth.)

Our next stop was Naqa. But we didn’t go straight to the temple. We had a job to do. Part of the reason I decided to do this in the way I did was because not only did I want to see these historic sites, but the Acropole – home to so many archaeologists and arranger of all the logistics – needed to deliver food and supplies to a team of archaeologists working at Naqa. I leapt at the chance to transport the goods. I had already met and lunched with some archaeologists in Khartoum, but there were ones at work, living in the desert. I was pretty sure I would become their new best friend as they regaled me with tales of their Indiana Jones lifestyles. It wasn’t quite like that, but it was very cool.

Naqa

First, a bit about the site of Naqa. Naqa (ٱلـنَّـقْـعَـة) is an ancient city from the Kushitic Kingdom of Meroë. Although it was, at one time, a huge city, it is now a few temples – but there are archaeologists there excavating and finding new treasures and structures in the shifting sands. The temples that are there have been listed as UNESCO sites and date to between about 400 years BC to about 400 years AD. The lost sites were discovered in the early 1800s and since the 1990s they have been excavated on an ongoing basis by a primarily German team. I met two members of that team including a German woman named Carol who said she has been in Sudan working on excavating these sites since the 1970s. They were friendly and gave me a small book about the sites, but it was pretty clear they wanted to work and not visit with me, so on I went.

Of the restored temples at Naqa is the Temple of Amun founded by King Natakamani (this the header image for this post), the Temple of Apedemak (aka the Lion Temple), named for a lion-headed god worshipped by the Nubians, and the Roman Kiosk. They are incredible. And, again, like the pyramids at Meroë, there was no one else around (except the archaeologists).

Temple of Amun

me at the sarcophagus in the Temple of Amun

Temple of Apedemak (aka the Lion Temple)

The Roman Kiosk

Nearby was a well, surrounded by people traveling with donkeys, filling up containers with water. These are people living in the desert in a nomadic, traditional way and this is their source for water. Once they retrieved it, they disappeared into the landscape. I observed from a distance. I didn’t want to be an annoying tourist with a camera in their faces while they pulled water up from a well.

Musawwarat es-Sufra

From Naqa we drove to Musawwarat es-Sufra (المصورات الصفراء), a temple complex dating to the 3^rd C BC. It had two main sites, the Lion Temple (very well preserved) and the Great Enclosure (this has many impressive elements, but you do have use your imagination a bit to see it as it was). Both were impressive though.

The Lion Temple

The Great Enclosure

Returning to Khartoum

From there we drove back to Khartoum, giving a ride to two men on foot in the middle of the desert back to the main road.

By the time we got back to Khartoum it was dark and the traffic was terrible. There were protests happening in the city (people against the shared military regime and seeking a democratic government) so the bridges were mostly closed. There wasn’t much to look at – darkness in the desert is just black – but it was pleasant to feel the warm night air and reflect on the incredible antiquities I had seen. It is amazing to think that there is more there to find.

I returned to the hotel and had a cigar on the patio, chatting with whomever was around (at this point, even though it had only been about 5 days, I was feeling like family). Another great day in Sudan. The next day (my final one) would be a wander around Tutti Island and a visit to a Sufi ceremony.

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