America is an Über sanitary society. Our restaurants are rated for cleanliness, wipes are available at the grocery store to clean your cart handle, public toilets offer seat liners and health conscious moms wouldn’t be caught dead without a bottle of Purell leashed to their purses. Not that I think this is a bad thing, oh no, it just isn’t the way that the rest of the world operates. The more you travel across the world, the more you crash into this reality.
Truthfully, embracing these cultural differences has, at times, been challenging for me. I can smell a funky odor a mile away, odd textures and “parts” in food make my stomach take evasive actions, and I am a mom with a Purell bottle leashed to my purse.
Greg, on the other hand, could be the spawn of Bizarre Foods, Andrew Zimmern. He is hard core. Greg will eat anything with gusto, sleep soundly anywhere and venture where sensible mortals would never dare to tread. As long as he can score a cup of Joe and at some point, splash some water over his head, he’s good to go. Curiously enough, he rarely suffers any serious consequences from his “Fear Factor” approach to travel. My hero!
To keep up with Greg, I have adopted a scouting approach to travel “Always Be Prepared”. Whether we are parked on a beach in Mexico, heading out on a mission trip to Central America or jetting over to the far-east, I am armed at least with my basic creature comforts. This way I can take care of my plumbing issues (internal and external), stave of starvation and be assured of a creepy-crawly-free slumber.
A Doctor friend of mine told me never to travel without a good Prophylactic (not the type for issues “South of the Equator!”). He would say, “One Pepto-Bismol tablet a day, keeps the potty away”. So, I start eating my daily doses of Pepto a few days before we depart and make sure I have plenty on hand for the trip. Our Missions pastor’s wife swears by the “Missionary remedy” – a can of Coke a day, to kill any nefarious stomach bugs. However, I always opt of the lower calorie pink-pills! And just in case the main menu offering is creamed monkey brains, I carry a stash of Emergency food with me; roasted almonds, instant oatmeal, tea bags and power bars. You can live on this stuff for days!
Before I developed my handy kit, I was in Beijing with a girlfriend on a business trip. We decided to have dinner at Quanjude Roast Duck Restaurant, the oldest and the most revered restaurant in Beijing that serves Peking Duck. Armed only with an address of the restaurant and some Mandarin phases on some index cards, we grabbed a cab and headed out. The cabbie, who spoke no English and only grinned oddly while shaking his head enthusiastically, when I asked “are you sure this is Quanjude Restaurant?” We walked into what looked like a fast-food joint. “I can’t image that this is where former President Bill Clinton ate” I said to my colleague.
We ordered our duck, which arrived on paper plates and was served with small rice pancakes, green onions and a smear of a dark tangy bean sauce and the Pièce de résistance, Duck consommé. The duck soup was about 80% grease and 20% mystery liquid. Drinking it was similar to having your oil changed at jiffy lube. Suffice it, to say that the taxi ride back to the hotel only served to blend the consommé and all the duck goodies into a toxic intestinal brew. Once we returned to the hotel, my friend went out for a nice massage and I made a beeline for the room. Thank God that our bathroom was spiffy-clean because I spent the next few hours practicing my up-chuck-duck skills in honor of the deceased chairman Mao.
The next day we found out that we had indeed arrived at the back of the restaurant, which was a far cry from the plushness of the dining room! Lesson learned, never trust a cab driver with fewer teeth than a duck.
China is known for its exotic menu items. Many menus read like the who’s, who of the endangered species list! Sunbear, howler monkey, spotted deer and those are just appetizers.
Greg and I were out to dinner with some dear friends in Guangzhou. They had taken us to one of the best restaurants along the Pearl River. All of the ingredients that they serve are fresh, I mean REALLY Fresh! We viewed tank after tank of swimming fish, eels, crustaceans, things in shells, things out of shells, insects, snakes and other squirmy creatures that I have yet to identify. I am sure that Jacques Cousteau is spinning in his watery-grave at the notion of it all.
This is not just for show. The Chinese truly believe, If they can’t see it moving, it’s not fresh. Only a fool would buy food wrap in a cello-pack. They are positive that you have had that stuff stored in the bottom of your deep-freeze from the time before the Cultural Revolution!
We selected our lovely fresh victims and were headed back to our table when Greg and our friend Alex spotted a counter pack with ice, some meat filets and an alligator head, that was actually still twitching. The gents, being macho, insisted we should try some gater steaks too. However, the ones on the ice were already spoken for. Being the first rate establishment that this was, another six foot reptile was quickly produced, bound with bamboo ties and had its noggin placed on the chopping block right before our very eyes. Before you could say “Genghis Khan”, the clever wielding butcher, beheaded the creature in one swing. All we girls could think to do was to shriek in horror at the gruesome sight. This was rather unnerving to many of the diners. This was the epitome of freshness. I can personally testify that braised alligator tastes like eating someone's wallet.
After a good meal, nothing beats climbing into a cozy bed for a good night’s sleep. Well, I have found that is easier said than done in some destinations. For instance, all beds in Asia have one thing in common; they have the firmness of floor boards. Remember they actually like to sleep on the floor, “so let’s just elevate them for our western visitors”. You can stay in a five-star hotel, and you will still get to sleep on what feels like a sheet of plywood that is two feet shorter than your double bed at home (sorry Yao Ming!). To combat this I just ask for six or so extra blankets from house-keeping. You should see the look on the face of the sweet little gals who deliver these to our room, when the temperature is 95° outside.
If it’s not a firmness issue, it can be a chewing issue (as in bed bugs or other buggy things). Even the swankiest hote
ls on Manhattan’s fifth avenue are not immune to the epidemic of bed bugs. Before our first trip to Guatemala, I made my single greatest, travel comfort purchase; the Sleep Sac. It’s a light weight silk sack, about the size of a large sleeping bag that folds to the size of a pair of rolled-up socks. Greg mocked my silly purchase, until I was the only one from a team of eleven, who managed not to be the nightly main course for the mid-night buffet.I only wished I had found the Sleep Sac before a mission trip to Cuba. The culprits weren’t bed bugs but Volkswagen-sized roaches and clouds of mosquitoes. The windows to our room had no screens but rather randomly placed wooden slats. Not exactly a bug proof Fort Knox. However, I did come up with a rather ingenious plan to reduce the buzzing in my ears and the sucking on my flesh. I moved my bed right under a wall air conditioner, turned the contraption to its lowest setting. Then I put on a hooded sweat shirt and pulled the strings so tight that only my nose and eyes were exposed. I put socks on my hands and tucked my PJ bottoms into the socks on my feet. I looked like a small, deranged version of the uni-bomber. Mind you, it was about 99° out with about 90% humidity, so if the AC had broken down during the night, all anyone would have found in the morning, was a pile of sweaty clothes and a dehydrated body.
The number one travel question that I always get is “how bad are the toilets in those strange locales?” Well, I can honestly say as long as they work, to some degree, I have learned to be grateful for them regardless of the type or condition. No matter how much or how little of those tasty delicacies that you eat, they have to come out sometimes. You can’t just hold it for weeks on end. Therefore, I have two toilet credos; #1, TP and wet wipes, never leave home without them and #2, remember to practice your squats!
Years ago, I was with a group of tourists visiting the old canton zoo. We were subjected to a four hour bus ride on pot-hole ridden roads. When we finally arrived at the zoo, no one rush
ed to see the giant pandas but instead rushed for the “Happy House” (a cute Chinese term for the restroom). Half of the group spun around on their heels when they saw the facilities. It consisted of a concrete trench in the floor with a rusty old pipe protruding from the far wall, which spewed water to keep “things” moving. Several low walls spanned the trench for privacy and a way to hang on while “doin” your thing. The friend that I was with coined it the “doo-doo current” as you could see what the gal in front of you had for breakfast. This was by far the most intense potty experience that I have been exposed to.Another strange toilet was in the highlands of Guatemala. It was a wooden lean-to that had newspapers draped loosely around it for privacy as well as handy reading materials. The structure was set over a big clay pipe that stuck upward from the raw earth. It was actually pretty good, until a stiff breeze whipped up. The whole thing just sort of swayed back and forth and the sheets of paper blew in all directions, so much for privacy or reading materials.
Yes, the stuff that we determine as necessary, fancy and comfortable take on the attributes of functional, practical and routine in other parts of the world. Do these type of crazy things like what I mentioned here keep me from wanting to see what other surprise are out there, NO WAY! Just let me pack my Girl Scout Supply kit and I’ll meet you at the airport for the next flight out!
