Worst travel mistakes of the 2000’s: Kuala Lumpur passport shenanigans

by Grant Martin on

Back before my days as a Gadling blogger I used to travel on an extremely tight margin. As a starving college graduate, travel was my main priority — debt, work and rent, well, those were ancillary.

My usual modus operandi involved saving up a few hundred dollars in cash and clearing another few hundred on my credit card prior to departure. I could spend and accrue debt in parallel until I returned home. And if I engineered things right, I would be hitting zero dollars and maximum debt by the time I touched down at home.

The success of the above plan was obviously predicated on my travel going flawlessly — no outrageous expenses, disasters or errors on my part. And for the first 99% of my trip through Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and Hong Kong, everything worked like a well oiled machine. Until I left for my homeward bound flight from Kuala Lumpur to Bangkok to Hong Kong to Los Angeles to Dallas to Detroit.

The night prior I had spent my last dollars short of train fare on a couple of delicious Tiger Beers on the streets of KL, the hotel expenses already covered and my last meal consumed. We had opted to stay in a nicer hotel than usual for our last night on the road, a $20 cell with two lonely single beds and dank, flowing curtains. It was a setup so trustworthy that I hid my passport under the mattress and kept my other valuables clutched in my front pocket.

Waking up at 6:30 for my 8:30 Air Asia flight to Bangkok I groggily collected my belongings and shuffled towards the door, my last ringgit going towards an express train ticket to KLIA nonstop.

Few feelings on the planet beat the dread of realizing that you’ve lost your passport. I can only compare it to swallowing a baseball-sized rock or perhaps getting punched in the stomach — the feeling of “Oh no. Something is terribly, terribly wrong,” and a deep, sullen weight inside of your stomach. Reaching the airport I checked to find that I would indeed miss my flight without my passport, but that there was another, later flight with which I could connect. But I had to hurry and get back to that hotel before they cleaned the room.As it turns out, those ringgit that I spent the night prior were indeed my last. Dipping my ATM card into the train station kiosk, the LCD blinked “declined” back at me, slowly, scoldingly. Trying my credit card yielded the same result. I was out of money — completely — in Kuala Lumpur Airport without a passport.

Herein lies the worst feeling that I have ever had in my years travel. No money, no phone, no safety net and no passport in a foreign country. I did two laps around the departure terminal staring at the ceiling and getting my shit together — then put my backpack down and rifled through the gadget pocket. Twenty dollars. I had stashed a twenty in there when I left the states in case of emergency. It was still there.

Back at the hotel my companion had already left and the room had been turned down — the front desk didn’t understand why I needed to get back into the room so urgently. But when they followed me into the room and saw me pick up the mattress they knew why: my passport was still flattened between the slabs. I would make it home, barely, with the last $20 to my name through five different airports, twelve time zones and a lifetime of stress.

As it turns out I wasn’t out of money, there was a problem with all international bank transactions that morning and nothing was making it through. But the lesson of a young, foolish traveler is still seared into my memory: have a backup plan. Have several. You’re not that far from totally cutting loose and falling off the map.

New York City bargain destination perfect for a 3-day weekend

by Jamie Rhein on

New York City may be the most expensive place to live, but if you like to walk; it’s a bargain to visit. Arrive by Friday late afternoon, and by Sunday evening you can knock off most of the must see places and eat without spending much money. By the end, you’ll know a good bit of what makes this city so grand.

I recently tested out this method with a friend of my daughter’s who is a high school exchange student from Germany. She wanted to see New York and I’m always up for a trip. We did stay with my brother, but I do have two budget hotel suggestions that have been used by people I know.

When going to New York, have a point of orientation. Mine is Union Square located at East 14th Street and Broadway. Union Square is a hub where the subway station below ground offers trains in every direction and the park above is a gathering place of street vendors, a community farmers market and people out for a stroll depending upon the season and the day. In December, there’s a wonderful holiday market with creative, high quality items from around the world.

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This is where we began our New York jaunt on a Friday morning about 10 a.m. after arriving at LaGuardia from Columbus in time for the first bus into Manhattan. (The shuttle bus from LaGuardia drops passengers outside Grand Central Station. We took the #6 subway downtown to the Union Square stop. The roundtrip bus ticket is $21,)

Day 1

From Union Square, after dropping our things at my brother’s), we walked down Broadway to Ground Zero, a place I had been avoiding ever since September 11. The walk led us through Washington Square Park, New York University and the gallery district of SoHo. Along the way, we window shopped and admired the architecture. The American Thread Company, 260 W. Broadway is one that caught our eye in particular. The building gave me a chance to point out the city’s industrial past and imagine life in NYC during the late 1900s.

Ground Zero is now a bustling construction site where it’s possible to peek through the fence to see the progress of the new girders. Along the outside fence are building plans. As devastating as the area feels, there’s also a sense of renewal and hope.

The other World Trade Center buildings are still bustling with commerce. The 3 World Financial Center-American Express Building is a wonderful mix of office building and shopping mall. With Christmas approaching, Santa was busy listening to children’s wish lists. I couldn’t help notice how the holiday lights, poinsettias and Christmas tree inside the building inside were such a contrast to what occurred outside eight years ago. From the top of the steps in the atrium, there’s an excellent view of the construction site.

The American Express building also has a small display of the history of American Express. I particularly enjoyed the brochures that were developed to entice people to travel to far off places. On the second floor, above where the museum is located, notice the four murals. Each is of a major city in one part of the world. Venice, Istanbul and Rio De Janeiro are three of them. I think the 4th is Hong Kong. The title plate was behind a barrier so we couldn’t read it. People who work in the building who I asked about the mural didn’t know either.

From here we walked along the river to Battery Park where we purchased tickets to Liberty and Ellis Island. The walk on this end of Manhattan will take you by lovely apartment buildings and public spaces. Of note is the right before you arrive at the ferry terminal for the Statue of Liberty. There is construction site fencing around most of it, but the quotes from famous people added uplift to the day.

After a short wait, we were on an early afternoon ferry headed for the Statue of Liberty. The $12 ticket purchased at the booth operated by the National Park Service covers the ferry ride to Liberty Island and Ellis Island which includes the museum. We arrived at Liberty Island with enough time to walk around Lady Liberty and spend a few minutes in the gift shop before taking the next ferry to Ellis Island.

By this time we were starved, so after seeing the free movie about the history of Ellis Island’s past as the gateway for immigrants, we bought lunch at the café. A bowl of chicken soup cost $4.50.

By 4:00 p.m. we were back in Manhattan heading to Union Square to meet up with my dad and my brother, then off to the Museum of Modern Art-MOMA. On Fridays from 4:00-8:00, the museum is free. To get from 2nd Ave. and 14th Street, two blocks from Union Square, we took a taxi–$17 including a tip.

From MOMA it’s a short walk down 5th Avenue to Rockefeller Center and across the street from there is St. Patrick’s Cathedral. During Christmas, be prepared to be jostled a bit while you look at the center’s Christmas tree and watch the ice skaters. Give skating a pass. It is not budget travel.

Next stop, back to Union Square via subway where we headed to Chat ‘NChew, 10 East 16th St. for a late dinner. Chat ‘NChew’s specialty is comfort food. I ate the red beans and rice-a dish under $5.

Day 2

First stop, Union Square’s holiday craft bazaar where I bought non-alcoholic glugg for $2.50 before we headed to the School of Visual Arts Gallery via subway which took us to Chelsea. The walk was the chance to see the transition from a working class neighborhood to a warehouse district that has been changed to gallery spaces.

From there we walked to the Empire State Building on 34th Street, passing Madison Square Gardens and Penn Station along the way.

Before getting in line for our tickets to the observation deck of the Empire State Building, we ducked across the street to buy a slice of NY style pizza for $3.50. I had the spinach and feta cheese variety. When I forked over the $20 admission to the Empire State building, I swallowed the ticket price by seeing it as a contribution to preserving American history. The Art Deco architectural details are splendid.

We were blessed with a clear night so I was able to point out various buildings and bridges. Look for Times Square and the Statue of Liberty. The Chrysler Building is obvious.

Next was a walk past the Macy’s windows decked out for Christmas on our way to Times Square and Broadway. As always, there’s a surprise on some corner in New York. The biggest one this time was at Broadway where the annual Santa pub crawl was in full swing There were hundreds of people dressed up like Santa Claus milling about in the midst of .the flashing neon.

After our Christmas spirit fix, off we headed back to Union Square and a walk to Hollywood Diner at 16th Street and 6th Avenue. If you’re with another person, split the appetizer platter. The mozzarella sticks, chicken wings and chicken fingers cost us less than $6 a piece.

Day 3

After breakfast on-the-go at Chomp on 14th Street near 2nd Avenue where a small cup of coffee and a bagel is $2 we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art via the # 6 train. The museum has a suggested admission price of $20 for adults, but you can pay what you want.. Don’t feel cheap if you pay less. I do. For a trip through the best of the world’s cultural and artistic riches, here’s the place. My favorite exhibit was The Amercans, photographsby Robert Frank who created a photo essay of his travels across the United States from1955 to 1956.

At the other side of Central Park from the Metropolitan is the American Museum of Natural History. We stopped here long enough to see the atrium where part of the movie “Night at the Museum” was filmed. The two large dinosaur skeletons make an impression. Since I had been here two weeks before and we were limited on time, this stop was brief.

The walk through Central Park took us past the Delacorte Theater, home Shakespeare in the Park in the summer. We stopped long enough to take a picture of a couple who had just become engaged. They made a fetching site and asked us to take their picture when we passed by.

Next on the list was The Dakota where John Lennon was killed. The building is not well marked. The entrance is on off of Central Park West.

From here it was on to Grand Central Station where we stopped by the holiday crafts show, the whispering wall and the train museum. The whispering wall is by the food court on the ground floor. Look for two arches in an entry way. If one person stands on one end of an arch and another person stands at the other, you can hear each other talk, even if you’re whispering. Face the wall for it to work.

Next stop Chinatown and dinner at the Shanghai Café. on Mott Street. There were four of us. We had an order of steamed pork dumplings, chicken lo mein, chicken fried rice and a broccoli dish. The bill came to $24. From Chinatown, we headed up Mulberry Street through Little Italy. In a few blocks we came to Umbertos Clam House where we split a carafe of red wine and the high schooler had a cappuchino. The bill came to about $25, as much as dinner. No bargain, but a lovely way to end the evening. The half carafe would have been plenty.

With an early afternoon flight, we headed to the bus stop at Grand Central for the 11:00 a.m. (or thereabouts) bus and had enough time to go to the New York Public Library. Because you can’t take luggage inside, I waited outside for my high school friend to visit. She proclaimed it to be the most wonderful library she has ever seen and marveled that it was free. The library has rotating exhibits so it is always worth a stop.

So there you have it. New York City on the cheap. In all we, spent about $18 each on subway rides. I lost track.

For an inexpensive place to stay near Union Square, try Hotel 17 or the Seafarers International House..

The only place on the high schooler’s list that we did not see was Tiffany’s but we did see Tiffany stained glass windows at the Metropolitan. She also hoped to see the Naked Cowboy, but all those Santas made up for it.

Rafting the Smith River in Montana: Now is the time to plan

by Jamie Rhein on

Rafting the Smith River in Montana requires planning ahead and a permit. Without the permit, you’re not going. Obtaining one is simiilar to acquring a permit for a private rafting trip through the Grand Canyon. A lottery system says who goes and when a trip can happen. Not everyone wins.

The application process for 2010 begins in January permits closes the end of February for trips starting mid- April through the beginning of July. Some trips can go in September or later in July depending upon the river’s water level.

The person who lands a permit can take a group of 14 people on the 59 mile route of that starts at Camp Baker and ends at Eden Bridge. That’s how we ended up on the Smith two summers ago when the river was still high enough to make the four day journey. By the middle of July the water level is too low, particularly closer to the bridge.

Lucky for us, we were the last minute tag-a-longs who happened to be in Montana two days before our friends’ trip and there was room for four more. Score!

The fact that I’m not a back country camping sort of person on most days was something I decided to set aside. The fact that my husband’s hip was causing him major grief was something he decided to ignore. When would such perfect timing happen again? Never.

As a newbie to the back country rafting experience, I learned a few things.

A raft trip on the Smith is a journey through an isolated section of the Little Belt Mountains and some of the best blue ribbon trout fly fishing in Montana. The blue skies, meadows of wildflowers, high cliffs that edge the river in places and the chance to see wildlife face to face is so worth the effort. Plus, there’s the leisurely pace of spending time with family and friends and allowing ones mind to clear from the hassles of life off the river.

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Although this trip does require trust, stamina and perseverance, it is doable for people of all ages. Most of the trip is the float trip version of rafting trhough class I and class II waters. As long as you have an expert rafter with you, someone who knows how to row AND read the river, and another person to help paddle AND to hop out to heave a raft forward or off a rock if need be, you can make it.

Here are tips to keep in mind.

At Camp Baker, your group will meet with a park ranger to map out your exact trip. There are designated campsites along the way. Which group gets which campsite depends on a first come first serve basis. There’s only one group allowed at each one.

To ensure that we would be able to sign up for our first choice of campsites, the two male friends of our group arrived at Camp Baker the night before to put us at the beginning of the line.

The rest of our group was made up of us–a couple with a teenage daughter and a six-year-old son–our friend with her two sons, ages 7 and 9, and two couples without kids.

When planning campsite stops, it’s important to know how far your group will be able to go in a day. Once you take off from Camp Baker, there’s no other place to stop the trip until the take out.

To get your car from the put in to the take out, you can hire a private outfitter with a shuttle service to drive your car from Camp Baker to the parking lot at Eden Bridge. It’s worth the extra money to pay for the paved road version. The gravel road is shorter and less expensive, but you can end up with a cracked windshield. Our car was waiting for us with a nice note from the driver and the keys.

The longest day for us was to be 14 miles which would take most of the day with enough time leftover before dark to pitch tents, make and eat dinner and do the majority of clean up necessary to not have unexpected, unwelcome visitors once we went to bed.

Back country camping that leaves no trace of your presence and taking precautions against bears. This means tying trash bags high up in a tree, putting food in coolers that can be made bear proof with bungee cords and rope each night, and taking everything with you.

Each campsite has a fire ring. We bought some wood with us and used sticks and twigs for kindling. The campsites also have a pit toilet a good distance from the tent sites. The views were splendid. Toilet paper, however, is not to be dumped down the latrine.

Planning for all sorts of weather and having enough supplies is imperative. If you go in the spring or fall, it can snow. We had some rain and mostly warm temperatures during the day, but it was cold at night.

Since we had no idea we were going until the phone call asking if we were interested, we weren’t prepared. To get prepared, we headed to the thrift store in Philipsburg, Montana to buy sweats, sweaters, socks and hats. At the Wal-mart in Missoula, we picked up a sleeping bag and food. At a sporting goods store we bought shoes that could be worn in the river, flashlights and whatever else we couldn’t borrow.

We were able to borrow sleeping pads, three sleeping bags, an air mattress for me, a cooler, a raft and oars. Not too shabby. We had our own pillows.

Well before the trip, the people in the group divided up the food obligations to share the responsibility. Each couple group was in charge of one dinner for everyone. Because we were the last minute tag-a-longs, we were in charge of appetizers and desserts. Each couple group was in charge of their own drinks, breakfast, lunch and snacks.

The biggest hit appetizer was a shrimp, cream cheese and green chili quesadilla. The fly fishermen experts on the trip who caught 40 a day, did treat us to trout, although they threw back most of what they caught.

Bags and bags of ice were a must to keep perishable food and beer cold.

Our biggest issue along the way was keeping the boys from bickering about who would be able to use the small solo float raft and who should ride in which raft. Also, our son did not have a fishing pole. A big mistake. The other two boys did. Upset? You bet.

Our daughter slightly whined because she had to wear a life vest, but not much. She was a trooper and helped haul the rafts off rocks many times.

We didn’t meet up with bear trouble, but we did run into a family who lost much of their food due to a bear getting into it at night. We offered to give them some of our bounty.

At the end of our trip we found out why it is a great idea to have AAA. Our car wouldn’t start. It’s a long tale, but the short version is we fried the wiring with a plug in adapter.

We had to keep getting the car jumped all the way back to Ohio.

For other handy Smith River rafting tips, click here.

[All pictures, courtesy of Jamie Rhein.]

Greyhound travel: The imperfect lover. Reality, the Twilight Zone and being jilted

by Jamie Rhein on

I’m fond of Greyhound bus travel. I like the idea of humanity rolling along on a highway. I like bus people. As one bus ticket seller once told me at the station in Columbus, Ohio as she surveyed the milling about passengers in the waiting area, “If you’re hard up and you need money, anyone of these people will help you out.”

Bus people have a certain air of resignation and quiet about them. Their expectations are low. They know getting where they are going will take time so why fuss? Bus people feel as comfortable as a favorite broken in, but not broken down shoe.

On a Greyhound bus, there are just the driver and the passengers. The driver lays down the rules: No smoking of anything; no drinking; no swearing; no loud talking; no cell phones ringing, and if you make a call, keep it down. If you break the cussing, smoking and drinking rules, you’ll find yourself off the bus and in a load of trouble.

The passengers, for the most part, don’t give grief and everyone is equal. No one is better than anyone else on the bus. The driver is accessible. You can see the driver drive. You can see where you are going. The bus doesn’t have secrets.

In general, I love Greyhound because Greyhound has treated me right even when there have been problems. Greyhound does seem like a problem magnet, however.

  • The last time I took Greyhound, the driver headed the wrong way for 70 miles when we were more than halfway to our destination. This was not an easy pill to swallow.
  • Greyhound travel can be unpredictable. The departure and arrival times seem more like suggestions. There is a reason for this. Bus travel is flexible. You can buy a bus ticket the day you want to leave without it costing you an exorbitant amount.
  • Greyhound travel can feel like heading through a jungle.
  • Greyhound travel can feel like the Twilight Zone. Finding out clear information may be a problem.
  • There are people who ride the bus who may not smell good or who take up too much room. That happens on a plane too. On a bus, though, you can change seats if the bus is not full. If it is, someone will get off at the next stop so you can switch seats. Seat hell doesn’t last that long.

With the issues Greyhound has been known to have, some customers can become very, very unhappy. Greyhound might as well be the devil incarnate as far as they are concerned.

The latest person to feel this way that I know about is Miriam. Miriam does have a sad, infuriating Greyhound tale that was described in The Consumerist. If I were Miriam, I would be spitting mad. Miriam, you see, was stood up–jilted by Greyhound. How cold is that?

As Miriam describes her left holding her dance card saga, she bought a non-refundable ticket for a bus from New Haven to Boston for a 12:05 a.m. bus. Keep in mind that this just past midnight. Her prince left her at the ball.

The prince, or in Miriam’s case, the driver didn’t make the New Haven stop. Miriam was left waiting for a bus coach that never came. When she contacted Greyhound for a refund on her ticket, she was given quite the runaround until she was finally put in contact with someone in customer service. This feat alone would have done most people in.

Miriam prevailed, but the result was not what she had hoped for. She did not meet up with a fairy godmother. Instead of a refund, she was given a voucher for the full price for another Greyhound bus ticket. She was told that because she did not have a refundable ticket, she couldn’t get a refund. The company refused to see the logic that she did not make the bus because of her doing. It was Greyhound’s fault. How can a person take a bus that jilts you? Good point.

Miriam ended up canceling her American Express charge for the ticket. In essence, she created her own refund and now is so ticked at Greyhound she will never travel Greyhound again.

As for me, I’d have taken the voucher to see what other outlandish travel story I might get under my belt. There are several other woeful Greyhound tales under the comment section of Miriam’s story. Each are as sad and sort of funny in a twisted kind of way. These are great tell-at-a-party stories. If a person doesn’t travel Greyhound every once in awhile, where would such stories come from?

Oh, that’s right. There are airplane stories. I do have my reasons for never ever ever flying United.

East of Africa: the Road to Tuléar

by Stephen Greenwood on
I sneak a glance at the side-view mirror to try and catch a reflection of my face; I’m trying hard to look at ease, but my tight grip on the door handle suggests otherwise. It certainly isn’t the worst road I’ve been on in Africa, but it seems that our driver is intent on moving as fast as the laws of physics will allow; navigating hundreds of hairpin turns with haste so that we can get off the road by nightfall.

Our driver recognizes my apprehension, shouting “Don’t be nervous!” before reaching to turn up the Jerry Marcoss album that’s playing in the truck. I take a deep breath and focus my attention on the scenery around me. It’s stunning.

We’ve been on the road for nearly 8 hours, and the mountainous highlands of Antananarivo have given way to sprawling golden plains that are fringed by large rock formations and orange-red dirt. There are unfavorable clouds in the distance, which causes our driver to shake his head as he slows down for the first time of the trip. A light rainfall begins to hit the windshield.

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The road to Tuléar is a voyage that remains unexplored by most of the tourists that come to Madagascar; it takes two full days of driving (at top speed) with a midway night rest in Fianarantsoa. The route is a grueling stretch of reasonably well-maintained asphalt that spans almost 1000km from the highlands of Antananarivo to the plains of the island’s Southwestern coast. It’s a two-lane road that often converges into a single lane for bridge crossings, but traffic is so sparse that there’s rarely an issue with oncoming traffic.

I scan the landscape for the simple mud huts that I was familiar with in Tanzania, but all the houses seem to be well constructed, two-story structures made of mud, brick, and wood. Their orange color matches the vibrance of the earth that they sit on, with most capped by neatly thatched roofs. They are by no means comfortable, spacious, or in many cases even wired for electricity; but so far there are no signs of shantytowns in the countryside. While Madagascar is still one of the poorest nations in the world, it seems that the standard of living in the rural areas is relatively higher than that of other places I’ve been to.

Every small town that we pass through has several staple elements: a large central catholic church complete (steeple and all), a diverse selection of roadside cafes, and painted signs with bold blue letters that spell out “CECAM” – apparently one of Madagascar’s largest micro-finance lenders.

On the outskirts of each small town, young boys stand near the road with a small hand extended. Next to them are shovels and mounds of dirt, which they have been using to patch potholes in the road, and which they hope will earn them a few hundred ariary. We oblige; it’s an impressive display of entrepreneurship for a service that is welcome and necessary.

The landscape continues to change; the golden plains and green hillsides turn into dry mesas. It’s like driving through the entire range of California’s landscape in a matter of hours; which makes it believable that Madagascar houses five percent of the world’s plant and animal species. For the most part, the land appears untouched and unsettled, the most beautiful of which has been claimed by the national park system. When Ravalomanana was president, he promised to protect over 60,000 square kilometers of land; a step up from the 17,000 square kilometers that are currently protected.

One of the larger reserves that we pass is Isalo National Park; home to 82 species of birds, 33 species of reptiles, 15 species of frogs and 14 species of mammals. The most dramatic sight from the road is Ranohira Mountain; a rock formation that almost appears to be monolithic, but is actually part of a small range called the Isalo Massif.

There’s enough time to briefly get out and take some pictures, but the driver emphasizes that we must get back on the road if we want to complete the last several hundred kilometers in the light; we have one last stop in a town called Ilakaka, where the sales team hopes to generate some lamp & panel sales.

I hop in the truck, thankful that the windy mountain curves have transformed into long stretches of road, and hopeful that we’ll only have to listen through the Jerry Marcoss album two more times.

Catch the previous articles in the East of Africa series here!