I am a shopper. When David and I go on vacation, one of our best practices is to arrive in our destination with only carry on luggage, and then check luggage (full of trinkets, naturally) on the way home. I have some hoarder-type tendencies (it ranges from tchotchke to canines) that are very real, and perhaps they most strongly manifest in my accumulation of things when I travel.
I am a fledgling urban explorer. Urban exploration, or urbex in shorthand, is the exploration of man-made structures, usually abandoned ruins or not usually seen components of the man-made environment. Photography and historical interest/documentation are heavily featured in the hobby and it may sometimes involve trespassing onto private property (thanks, Wikipedia!). Urbex is becoming more and more popular as a mainstream travel interest, evident by this year’s induction of cultural industrial complexes to UNESCO’s World Heritage list.
My interest in urbex started with our visit to Chiatura in Georgia last year, and is largely intertwined with my interest in Soviet/Communist era brutal (and largely abandoned) architecture. The former Soviet states are an urban explorers dreams, with many former Soviet military and government buildings empty for the exploring. So when we (let’s be real, when I), started planning our Baltic Road Trip Honeymoon™, I knew urbex would figure prominently into our plans. You can read posts I’ve written on urbex in Estonia in Tallinn and in the nearby Lahemaa National Park. Read more
When we first were thinking about our honeymoon, we tacked Malta on to the end of our week in Tunisia to provide some rest after a week of what was to be some intense exploration. And when we cancelled Tunisia after the tourist-targeted terrorist events there earlier in the year, and decided to spend that week in the Baltic States, Malta remained the more laid back portion of the trip in our mind. For whatever reason, neither of us did much planning for this week of the trip – opting to plan for some pure R&R sitting by the pool of our Gozitan farmhouse.
I'll be here all week. Literally, right here, not moving. Gharb, Gozo, Malta.
On the first day of our road trip honeymoon through the Baltics (after leaving Tallinn, that is), David and I had quite a day planned – heading first to Lahemaa National Park, then on to Haapsalu before ending up A frame camping on Saaremaa.
Lahemaa National Park, about 90 minutes east of Tallinn, is known for its natural beauty, which was actually of secondary interest to David and myself. We were there primarily to see some abandoned structures – Kolga Manor and the Hara Submarine Pen. Read more
While the typical tourist kitsch of shot glasses and refrigerator magnets can be found on every street corner in Vilnius Old Town, shopping for the more discerning tourist proved to be a bit difficult. I should actually say that shopping in Vilnius and Lithuania is great for those not afraid of a little challenge. Because the types of things I shop for (Soviet kitsch, really random religious knick knacks, etc.) took some sleuthing to unearth in Lithuania’s vibrant capital (and surroundings) .
Felt like we were going to get stabbed in the Latgales Tirgus for taking a picture, but well worth the trip to add to my pile of Soviet kitsch. Riga, Latvia.
I should start with the Hill of Crosses, which surely deserves its own post, for all its quirkiness. The Hill of Crosses had the best gift shop in all of the Baltics. Hands down, bar none.
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As you may know, I lived in Korea (for the purposes of this blog, I refer to South Korea as Korea, and North Korea as the DPRK) from 2006-2007, and have since made several trips back – often times making use of lax layover rules by Korea’s national carriers (Korean Air and Asiana Airlines) on my way to and from Southeast Asia. I absolutely love Korea. With extensive public transportation options, it’s easy to get from place to place via either bus or train, and thanks to recent efforts to commoditize Korean tradition for domestic and foreign tourists, there are attractions in every town.
In the summer, Korea is sweltering – in from May to June is the rainy season, with high heat and high humidity, and after that is the hot, dry summer. When I lived there, my friends and I would flock from our apartments to various beaches around the country, eager to find a beach. This is when I fell in love with the Korean coastline. Long, and full of islands with independent personalities, we would island hop, eager to learn what each had to offer the itinerant traveler. I especially liked those in the Southwest of the country, in Jeolla-nam province, where the coastline resembled that of Washington State around the San Juan Islands. Well, like the San Juan Islands with more smokers, soju, and fragrant fermented foods.
On one such sweltering weekend, my cohort of teachers and I traveled from Daejeon (our home base) via bus to Gwangju, then from Gwangju to Mokpo, and finally from Mokpo to Wan-do. Each leg of our bus route was no longer than about 1.5 hours long, and we made it to the sleepy town of Wan-do by about 3pm, after which we found an enchanting love hotel on the town’s main promenade. Note to readers, when I use words like “enchanting” to describe accommodation, it usually means…well, grotty. Not that I don’t find mildly pornographic wallpaper charming…
A solidly third tier town in size, Wan-do sits on its own island (the suffix –do means “island” in Korean), Wan-do’s main stretch catered to local tourists from other parts of the province, and locals were most definitely not used to seeing foreigners. This meant several things:
With few options to choose from to suit our snooty Western palates, we feasted on dried cuttlefish roasted over portable stove and Cass beer from the corner store. Being right by the sea meant a reprieve from the mosquitos that haunted us in the city, and once we’d had a few beers we struck up conversation (charades, really – my Korean at the time, especially Southern dialect, was not up to par) with some locals and lit roman candles over the town’s bay. Wando, as it turned out, had a lot of charm to offer.
The next day we headed on a small passenger ferry to explore the islands further afield that weren’t connected to the peninsula by bridge. Ferries leapfrogged from island to island, and we happily shared soju and more cuttlefish snacks with the middle aged Korean merrymakers on the boat. We decided to disembark rather arbitrarily at Bogil-do – and it immediately won my heart. From the meddling ajumma (middle-aged woman) who prepared our Korean-style sashimi on rice, to the almost completely abandoned beach, to the cheap cheap abalone, everything about it was perfect. My friends and I lounged on the beach with crappy English language novels, got sunburn, and swam to nearby rocky islets, and loved every minute of it.
At the time (June 2006) there was only one minbak (kind of a combination of a B&B and a hostel) on the island’s main beach. We stayed there one night before heading back to the city to work, but traveled back the year after to camp on the beach. Even then, it seemed like the secret was out – scores more folks were there than in the previous year, including some other foreigners. I’m sure the island is barely recognizable today, almost ten years later. But until I go back there, the image of it in 2006 will remain burned into my memory of my first summer in Korea.
Despite my hemming and hawing about lack of English speakers in this part of the country, Wan-do and Bogil-do are both quite easy to reach. From Seoul, you take the KTX (the high speed train) departing from Yongsan station toward Mokpo – take it all the way there, in fact. Don’t take the KTX from Seoul Station – trains there travel to the Southeast (toward Daegu and Busan rather than toward Gwangju and Mokpo). Once in Mokpo, take a cab to the bus station, and get on a bus traveling to Wan-do – they leave fairly frequently (until about 5pm). The bus station in Wan-do is rather far from the main seaside part of town, but it’s a nice stroll through the city to get there (you can go through the main market). There are several seafood restaurants in the downtown promenade, as well as motels of questionable cleanliness. Ferries depart for the islands in the morning through the early afternoon – from two different terminals: the ferry terminal in town is for boats heading to Jeju-do, while the other ferry terminal, a bit out of town, has the boats to Bogil-do. My 10 year old intel is that the only main bus line running through the seaside promenade takes riders to the latter terminal – but don’t quote me on that in 2015. It’s easy enough to make a day trip to Bogil-do, but I’d recommend staying the night for the full experience.
Long haul air travel can be the biggest obstacle we face when embarking on a big international adventure. When it comes to international travel, there are no “easy” flights for coach travelers – especially when you’re taking trans-oceanic and continental flights from the USA to places in Europe, Asia, or even destinations further afield – like Africa or Australasia.
There is a lot of talk in the travel blogger community that glorifies frugal travel. And I get it – the more cheaply one is able to travel, the more time one is able to spend on the road. Short term travel is more mainstream and often times more expensive. Cheaper travel also allows for slower travel – often times with accommodation getting cheaper the longer one stays in a single place. These strategies are great for the long term traveler. For many travel bloggers, whose bread and butter relies on traveling and writing about new places prolifically and in real time, frugality and finding ways to cut corners on costs is a great strategy for maintaining that lifestyle. I totally get it.
But that’s not for me. And, I would argue, the majority of people traveling in the world – especially those holding down 9-5’s. For my family and almost all of my peers, life only allows for short term travel – a fact that doesn’t have to be as reviled as it is in the travel blogging community today.
A huge part of my travel philosophy in my 20s was to meet people with the assistance of alcohol, the universal social lubricant – a strategy enjoyed by many travelers, I believe. The thing is, when one is on vacation, one lets loose. It’s like a (somewhat) grown up version of college spring break. On spring break, we (the royal we, of course) would go to an exotic destination, with the direct intent of getting plastered on the beach with likeminded horny post-adolescents. When we age out of that and into more (and I use this term loosely) “sophisticated” adventures, we maybe stroll around the ancient Forum if we’re in Rome, or visit Wat Pho if we’re in Bangkok, and then get plastered with the booze that’s next up from bottom shelf with our mates in the hostel from Europe and Australia.
