Dear James,

You've known me since we were 7 years old, so I'm sure it won't come as a shocker to hear that my curiosity has gotten the better of me again and I am off to explore once more.   

Nor will it come as a surprise that my life has begun to mimic that game I used to play as a kid where I would spin a globe and put my finger down somewhere randomly to see where I was going to (hypothetically) end up.  Well this time, the globe landed on Iceland.  Iceland.  Go figure.  So here I am, with my mother, in the frigid Icelandic wind, struggling with a years worth of luggage (This is just a week long stop on the trans-global relocation project that is my life.), just a short jaunt south of the arctic circle...and I'm thinking to myself: I have got to stop playing that game.  

But then of course, it's 3 AM my time and perhaps in the morning things will look a little...less bleak. 

They do.

Everyone knows the funny little irony that is Iceland and Greenland.  You know, how Iceland is really green, and Greenland is really covered in ice.  Well, I can't speak for Greenland, but Iceland is not green.  Iceland is blue, red, brown, black, grey, gold, white and green.  Really green.  Like, how-does-a-country-with-no-trees-or-agriculture-to-speak-of-get-so-green green.  So, after a little shuteye, my mom and I set out to discover what makes Iceland so colorful. (and by a little shut eye, I obviously mean we accidently overslept by like 4 hours on the first day...because let's be honest...it was me and my mom).

BLUE

As any bachelorette can tell you, it isn't a trip to Iceland without a dip in the Blue Lagoon.   So without delay, mom and I hopped in our little rental car (the company ominously named: SAD cars) and beelined it for the geo-thermal spa famed for it's constant 100 degree temperature and aquamarine blue color.

We couldn't have planned our late start better, arriving just as all the tourist buses were pulling away.  Not to mention that we got there just in time to book the last two in-water massage and salt scrub appointments.  If you have never experienced an in-water massage...do.

Although, take a tip from mom...

...getting back on your feet can be a bit awkward.

RED (ish)

As you might expect from a place with geo-thermal spas, there is quite a bit of volcanic activity in Iceland.  Or maybe the recent eruption of Eyjafjallajokull gave it away.  However you figured it out, the rumors are true.  And you can't really go anywhere in Iceland with out accidently wandering into a volcano.  

Exhibit A:

Make sure to note the location of the "you are here" black dot.  Right there nuzzled in the heart of the "Virk megineldstöð."   Translation: Active Central Volcano.  Don't worry though...I was traveling with the fearless D Sharon Osborne, who laughs in the face of volcanoes. 

BROWN, BLACK, GREY

You would be surprised by how beautiful these colors can be when they take on the form of endless blacksand mud flats, plunging brown crevasses that literally penetrate the earth's crust (this is where the European and American continental plates are ripping apart), and miles and miles of rolling landscapes covered in a grey-green moss that make the scenery look as though it is perpetually stuck in the hour of sunlight just before dusk.

GOLD

Yeah, you read that right: Gold.  The golden circle of Iceland is a loop drive that includes some pretty amazing waterfalls, the original geysir (called...."Geysir"), and the site of the first Icelandic viking parliament at Þingvellir.  We aren't ones to brag, but with our SAD little car, we managed to make every stop and then some for a fraction of the price of the multiple daytours leaving from Reykjavik.  

And we made it with only one or two wrong turns.

Mom and I call this picture:  Don't tell dad.

WHITE

There is so much to do and see in Iceland that despite its small size, in one week, we only managed to cover the south and southwest of the country.  Fortunately, however, we managed to make it as far East as Skaftafell and Jökulsárlón, both part of Europe's largest glacier: Vatnajökul.  Certainly the highlight of our trip...I think the pictures speak for themselves (and trust me...this IS me narrowing it down).

GREEN

Green is the color of nature...and I don't think you could pick a better place to go searching for a little natural wonder than this incredible island.  

And, James, if you are wondering if I had the CKY2K song stuck in my head the entire time...the answer, unfortunately, is yes.

Dear Patrick,

Thanks for the advice.

So, I've decided that maybe the best way to fall in love with a place is to experience it as a 13 hour intensive on little to know sleep.  Okay, that may seem a bit extreme, but it worked in Seoul and now that I am back in the states, I can officially say that Seoul is the best city (that I have been to) in Asia.

Elaborate?  okay.

I started my day watching the sun rise on the 14th of May from my window seat somewhere between Hanoi, Vietnam and Seoul, South Korea.  Upon touching down, I hopped a bus that dropped me off right downtown in front of the most informative and free tourist info-center I have ever been to.  I am pretty sure I said the phrase "all free?" about 27 times before I left stocked full of maps and literally books on things to do in the city.  Books.  Obviously, only the most important things caught my eye:

As I walked around the city, I kept thinking about how clean and friendly everything seemed.  Now, obviously, I understand the difference between cities in countries with flourishing economies vs. the not-so prosperous.  But there was something else I couldn't quite put my finger on.  And then it came to me.  Motorbikes.  There were no motorbikes in Seoul.  Now, don't get me wrong, despite my recent catastrophe, I remain a big fan of the motorbike, but after 5 months of choking back exhaust and near-death street crossings, the lack of Honda Waves was...refreshing.

After a few temple visits,

a couple of free museums,

and some aimless, yet enjoyable, wandering,

I decided it was time for lunch.  How do you pick where to eat lunch in Seoul?  Follow the flocks of businessmen.  I ended up sitting at a low table, shoeless, on a pillow eating the most incredible mystery meal (nobody spoke english) I had eaten in a long time.  I think there was Kim Chee involved...but this is just a guess.

Perhaps if I'd thought to take the picture before I gorged...I might have better luck with identification.  Oh well, the point is: it was good.  After lunch, on a whim, I walked about a mile down a random street with no intended destination, only to stumble across a traditional drumming and singing class attended by the friendliest old Korean women who invited me in, gave me a drum, and sang for me.

If only I had more time, I probably would have signed up for a year's worth.  After my old lady jam sesh, I started making my way back through the market, down the river walk (which was incredibly serene considering it is in the dead center of a huge, jostling city), and through a giant memorial celebration.  At last, I was back at my favorite little tourist info-center, where I unnecessarily returned my borrowed literature, and hopped a bus back to the airport.  

But, don't fool yourself into thinking that the day in Seoul stopped there.  Back at Incheon airport, I still had time to take a much-needed shower and even do a little arts and crafts...for old time sake.

And then, at the end of 138 days on the road, it was time to head home. 

But not before seeing the sun rise on the 14th of May one more time as I crossed the International Date Line.  Now there's something you don't see twice every day.

Dear Nora,

An ode to Carhartts:

They said you were too heavy.

They said you took up a third of my bag.

They said you were too hot.

That I would never wear you.

That you wouldn't come in handy.

They said I was being stubborn.

But they didn't see it coming.

And when I crashed my motorbike on the streets of Hanoi

You saved my life. 

Dear Tammie, Emily Lee, and Amanda Nicol,

There were supposed to be three more posts to cover the rest of my trip in Vietnam.  Each with a theme which directly related to one of the three of you.  But for the sake of EVER getting back on track, I have combined those three posts into one MEGA-Post.  So without further ado, I give you Vietnam in 10 stops or less:

1.  Dalat:

Please note my reaction at 1:03 to the fact that, surprise! the rope doesn't go all the way down.  Uh, what?  I have to jump....from here?  Well if that's the case...why don't I just make it an extremely painful spread eagle back flop.  Great idea.  Welcome to Dalat.  My first stop on my Vietnamese journey north.  Aside from partaking in adventure sports like this canyoning trip, I also visited a silk factory (yes, Tammie, you heard right) and began an affectionate relationship with Vietnamese drip coffee during unexpected torrential downpours.  

Hi: Winning solitaire on my first try during torrential downpour while sipping first Vietnamese coffee

Lo:  Winning solitaire on my first try during torrential downpour...now what?

Hero: Friendly Vietnamese/American who translates "I am allergic to MSG" for me so I don't die later on in this trip...

2. Mui Ne:

Mui Ne is a little tourist beach town on the southern Vietnamese coast.  Originally, the plan was to skip over Mui Ne, but then again, when you are traveling alone, the "original plan" is a phrase often used only to compare with the "on a whim, cause I feel like it, why not plan."  And of course, it was the latter which boarded me on a bus to the coast.

Hi: Lemongrass Tofu and a good book at a table on the beach

Lo: Leaving my ATM card in the ATM machine.  Again.  

Hero: Jung, the little boy who took me sledding in the sand dunes.  

3. Hoi An: 

I had been waiting four months to arrive in Hoi An.  And four days later when I said goodbye, my bag was heavier by 3 pairs of custom designed shoes, two tailored suits, three shirts, four skinny ties, a vest, a winter coat and a pair of slacks.  Not to mention that the fact that I got to go diving, eat incredible food (some of the cheapest at that) and happened across the lantern festival, when there is a mandatory power outage (save decorative lanterns) in the whole town and they float candles down the river.  

Hi: When the french woman thought I was french, and then when I said, "american" she assumed Quebecois.  Yesssssss.......

Lo: No electricity during Lantern Festival also means no fan in room at night.  

Hero: My tailor.  Excellent fit.

4.  Marble Mountains - Hue - Dong Hoi

Caves, caves and more caves.  And an elephant.  There's nothing like a trip to Southeast Asia to rearrange your life plan.  But after some careful considerations, I have decided that when I grow up (still saying that by the way) I want to be Indiana Jones.  Or Lara Croft.  But the latter may prove to be slightly more difficult.  

Hi:  Drinking and arm-wrestling with my hotel owner and his brothers.  weird.

Lo:  Note to self-when you get off the beaten path...bring an extra book...because reading english-vietnamese dictionaries are not thrilling...to say the least

Hero:  The founder/owner of "QB teen" in Dong Hoi, because sometimes a hot dog and fries can make EVERYTHING better.

5.  Sapa:

From Dong Hoi, I hopped on a sleeper bus to Hanoi, where I met up with Tom, an Aussie friend I made while canyoning in Dalat.  One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was loading a rented motorbike onto a night train while drinking Vietnamese Rice Vodka mixed with fanta in homemade aquafina bottle cups.  Classy....  

Sapa is incredibly beautiful.  And having your own transportation makes it that much more striking as you climb through the cloud-covered mountains of Northern Vietnam.  It took us about three times as long to make it from the train station in Lao Cai to the mountain town of Sapa, as we kept stopping to take in the the views.  Once in Sapa, we had plenty of time to explore the little french-influenced town, interact with the local hill tribes, and partake in some pretty harrowing meals.  Yes, you read correctly.  Because you see, when you walk back to the bathroom by way of the kitchen, and see this:

You start to wonder which cage contributed to your lunch.

Hi:  Learning how to count to 10 in H'mong

Lo: Allowing myself to be convinced to eat baby bird shish kebab fricasee.  Does it get lower than that?

Hero:  The guy who drove a motor bike with one hand, while holding a stick with live snake tied to the end of it in the other.

6. The Frontier:

With 5 days more to roam around on my motorbike, Tom and I decided to hit the road.  Destination: the frontier.  ooooooooooooooo.  The Frontier is an area in the Ha Giang province in the far North of Vietnam.  Right on the Chinese border.  If you are not Vietnamese, you need a special permit to enter the zone, and getting that permit can be a real pain....just ask Tom.  But it is so incredibly worth it.  As you drive around on roads that are practically untouched by outsiders, you wind through various terrains from dirt red river valleys to black stony cliffs, green carved out mountainous peaks to the occasional unpaved thigh deep muddy slip'n'slide they call a road.  And at the end of the path: China. 

Hi:  Surviving a 20 mile, 4 hour, unmarked, unpaved, obstacle course detour on a manual motorbike. 

Lo: Crashing my motorbike in Hanoi, only 10 km from the end of our 9 day journey.

Hero: My carhartts for saving my body and my helmet for saving my life. (see next post)

7:  Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba Island:

Nursing my wounds, I headed off on a 3-day pleasure cruise of Ha Long Bay.  Sometimes after a traumatic experience like my motorbike crash, there is nothing better than a little R&R&K (rest and relaxation and karaoke).  And while the picture above suggests quiet serenity, in my mind it says only one thing:  Tom Jones, baby.  

Hi: Keeping everyone on the boat awake with the fine karaoke stylings of Tom Jones' Sexbomb.

Lo: When the electricity went out, and cut us off right in the middle of our Sexbomb karaoke reunion tour the second night.

Hero: John Buckell.  Never will I have a karaoke partner with such fine attention to the artistic subtleties of Sexbomb.

8, 9, 10. Hanoi:

I actually went to Hanoi 3 different times, but for the sake of clarity, I will combine them into one brief but telling experience.  Perhaps you will recall from my previous post, that my travels in Vietnam begin and end with a snake.  Well after 28 days of beach bumming, mountain climbing, waterfall scaling, mystery-food eating, unabashed shopping, karaoke singing, biking, hiking, diving and a handful of narrow brushes with an ill-fated death, on my last evening in Hanoi, I came face to face with an old friend.  Hello snake.  Hello Adam.  Nice to meet you.  Nice to eat you.

And in case that didn't do it for you.  Perhaps this will do the trick:

Hi: Vietnam

Lo: Leaving Vietnam

Hero: The snake.

Dear Tracy,

Hello, Vietnam!

To be perfectly honest,  I wrote those words, "Hello, Vietnam!" about a month and a half ago.  At the time, I was sitting in an internet cafe in a town called Dalat in the highlands of the South Central Vietnam.  My internet connection was flickering in and out, and my photos took about 20 minutes to upload.  Each.  Currently, I am back in the U.S., sitting on my mac with all of my photos pre-uploaded and a lightning-fast internet connection.  And for some reason it is now the words that are coming at 20 minute intervals.  Nonetheless, if you will humor me by putting on your time-traveling hat (rice hats acceptable) and turning off your squeamers (I made this word up, but have grand plans of adding it to the urban dictionary ASAP) : this story begins and ends with a snake.

With one month left of my travels abroad, I knew from the start that I wanted to make the most of my time in Vietnam.  It was all about staying active: Doing rather than Watching.  Saying "yes" when I might otherwise say "ehhhh...." And this brilliant philosophy is how I ended up with this huge snake around my neck....and arms....and legs...and ahem.  Carpe Diem.  Or in this case: Carpe Giant Snake.

To get to this point, however, I had to survive a Saigon monsoon of epic proportions, a not-so-pleasant reminder that I am most definitely allergic to MSG, and the heat of a thousand blazing suns.  Or at least one blazing sun...but I promise it was a really really hot one.  Leaving Saigon, I headed south into the Mekong Delta, where I had every intention of making my big sis proud and taking off on a three day bike ride through the delta.  Unfortunately, the janky bike I rented, the aforementioned sun, and the heavy traffic, did not agree that this was the best idea ever.  Instead, 3 days became 1.  But it was nice to get out of the town and onto the back roads.  And judging by the stares and gaping jaws I elicited, I would say it was as novel for the locals as it was for me.

The next day, I checked out a couple floating markets, which are really convenient if you have an urge to purchase 500 dragonfruits.

And while I wasn't in the market for dragonfruit...I did finally try durian.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with durian - stay that way.  The taste is somewhere just in between rotten pineapple and gasoline.  A little closer to the gasoline side.  Now toss in the consistency of a slime mold and you've got yourself a Southeast Asian delicacy.  And an Adam retching on the side of the road.

If I had to make a wild guess...I would say this sign reads: Don't eat this god-awful fruit.  Ever.  Or something to that extent.  After recovering from that nauseating experience, I decided to pamper myself a bit with a haircut, massage and, always intrigued by local medicinal practices, a little cupping:

But don't worry, I didn't go quite as extreme as this guy:

From the delta, I headed back north through Saigon on my way up to Dalat...where I learned that arriving in a town where you don't speak the language at 3:30 AM without hotel reservations...is not the most prudent of actions.  But that brings me to another sister of mine....