Sometimes I’m embarrassed I can’t see the world the way street artists do.
I don’t look at a metallic sliver of garage door and see a robot. I don’t know how a dark alleyway can transform into a dazzling display. I can’t find the rainbow of colors in concrete.
I don’t have that kind of vision — but thankfully, I can still get a peek.
I’m a sucker for The World’s Largest Tallest Widest anything.
World’s Largest Basket? Check. World’s Largest Cuckoo Clock? Been there, done that. World’s Tallest Thermometer? Of course.
So when I ended up in Cameron Highlands, Malaysia, home of The World’s Largest AND Smelliest Flower, I was ready to hunt down this stinky bloom.
Unfortunately, that’s a little difficult to do without some help. The flower is rare and, thus, protected. It only blooms for 4 to 5 days at a time, and sometimes there aren’t any flowers for months. And since the endangered plant is on native land, only people of the Orang Aslis tribe — or guides educated by the tribe — know where to find it.
That means I had to pay for a tour, which I hate doing, instead of setting out on my own. And so some new friends and I booked a trip.
I knew I was in for a bumpy ride when I was picked up at the hostel in a Land Rover that looked like it had been dipped in caramel. Muddy caramel.
The tour guide was a Malaysian man with a slight build and bulbous, jaundiced eyes. He wore a silver marijuana leaf on a chain and had this laminated poem posted above the steering wheel:
Stoners live and stoners die
Fuck the world, let’s get high.
Pot’s a plant, it grows in the ground,
If God didn’t like it, it wouldn’t be around.
So drink 151 and smoke a bowl,
So party hard and rock and roll.
To all you preps who think you’re cool,
Fuck you bitches, stoners rule!
So my guide was a plant lover. That’s all I’m saying.
The drive to the nature preserve took about two hours on teeth-crushing, bone-jarring roads. At one point I hit the roof and bruised my eyeball. Then, at a remarkably unremarkable point in the road, our guide simply hit the brakes and turned off the ignition. He motioned for us to follow him into the jungle.
My friends and I slogged in ankle-deep mud through insect clouds, between prickly plants, across makeshift bridges for more than an hour.
Finally, our guide came to a halt. We had arrived! He held out his hand and gestured for us to gaze upon the majestic rafflesia bud.
It looked like a cabbage.
A little bit farther away, we finally saw a bloom.
The coolest thing about rafflesia is that it has no leaves, stems or true roots. It’s actually an endoparasite that grows within vines. The flower is the only part of the parasite that lives outside the host vine.
The petals are spongy, almost like a mushroom, with dots of fungus around the inside lip of the bloom.
And it is big. Here is my size 11 Nike for comparison.
Most of all, the rafflesia stinks, which is why it’s known as the corpse flower. Blow gently on this bloom, and you’ll be rewarded with the stench of rotting hamburger.
Now, I know when I say “corpse flower,” you’re probably thinking of this monstrosity.
Yes, this putrid plant is also called a corpse flower, and it’s hella huge. But while it is the largest unbranched inflorescence, the rafflesia has the largest single flower of any flowering plant. Got that? Good.
Afterward, my group met a tribe of Orang Asli, indigenous Malaysian people, who used to be headhunters. Now they eat monkeys.
This little guy was scheduled to be that night’s dinner, and he definitely knew it. He poked his hand through the wooden slats and clutched my finger for a long time, looking at me with these huge pleading eyes.
I think I’d rather eat a corpse flower.
It’s no wonder that walking is my favorite way to see the world. You’ve got all this: Exploration. Ever-changing scenery. Challenging terrain. Time to drink it all in. A definitive goal.
When I think back over the past year of travel, almost all of my favorite memories involved human power. A night hike up Mount Sinai, climbing Table Mountain, the gorilla trek in Rwanda, four days on the Inca Trail with my husband.
Each one of those experiences made me feel accomplished, nourished, grateful.
So when I made a list of dreams I want to conquer next, it’s only natural that my pen moved to the places my feet can go — plus a festival for good measure.
Here’s what I have on my wish list so far:
Annapurna Circuit
The Annapurna Circuit in Nepal offers some of the world’s most magnificent scenery, though a new road threatens to disrupt the character and quaint environment of this hike.
This is a teahouse trek, meaning that you hike from village to village and don’t have to carry a tent. It lasts anywhere from 16 to 21 days, ambling through holy sites, slurping up the local food, moving from a lush sub-tropic to a stunning mountain ecosystem.
Want to know more? My friends over at JDMesh.com recently finished hiking the circuit. Here’s their summary post.
El Camino de Santiago
I can’t remember where I first heard about this pilgrimage in Spain. Was it the Paulo Coelho book? Maybe it was referenced in a movie or an article at some point?
It really doesn’t matter. This walk lasts for weeks or months, depending on your own pace, there are several routes and the starting points vary. Basically, this is all very much a personal journey. As someone who enjoys walking as a moving form of meditation, I can’t imagine a better way to spend a few weeks.
Mount Kilimanjaro
Climb through four seasons in a week and end up higher than anyone else in Africa? Sold!
Also, big news coming up soon about this one.
Torres del Paines
Well, look at it.
This is a 52-mile, 10-day loop around some of the best sights Chile has to offer. I waffle a little bit about this one, because I don’t like being cold and this trek skirts glaciers. But it’s so stunning, I feel like I’d be robbing myself of happiness by not doing it.
Also, I had to slice Chile out of the itinerary on my most recent trip, so I need to make up for lost time.
Lantern Festival
Like a hike for the eyes.
Lantern festivals happen all over Asia, but I have my heart set on this one in China that marks the end of the new year. Participation is easy: Write prayers on the paper lanterns for health, fortune and happiness, then release them into the sky. It’s the marriage of fire and air, where lightning bugs meet stars. I can’t wait.
Where will your feet take you?
One thing I knew before my trip around the world: I had to find a way to stay in contact with my husband.
One thing I didn’t know before my trip: How to stay in contact with my husband. Preferably without paying a bajillion dollars in roaming fees.
Should I purchase a special global phone? Stock up on international calling cards? Find two cans and an incredibly long string? I scoured online forums, read blogs of long-term travelers, called my phone company and ended up no closer to a reliable, simple solution.
With Madre Bell most definitely not in my corner, I had to figure out my own way.
I armed myself with two weapons:
#1. My iPhone, which is the original, old-timey model. It still works wonderfully, even though Apple is trying its darnedest to make it obsolete.
#2. An old Verizon LG flip phone.
My first step was to cancel my contact with AT&T. I learned my lesson the hard way: I bought a short-term international data package during a previous trip to Asia. When I went over the modest amount of data, I was slammed with fees. Also, I ended up paying for the package about three months longer than expected, which was a significant expense on top of my already-pricey phone bill.
So no AT&T.
With no contract, my iPhone basically became an iPod Touch, which meant I could no longer make phone calls. However, the device could still get online whenever I found wifi hotspots, so I was able to send and receive emails, update Facebook and Twitter, even make blog posts. I could also play music and videos, store data and shoot photos. Plus, I loaded it up with helpful apps that could work offline — language guides, currency converters, checklists, maps and so on.
It was a travel guide, dictionary, camera, boombox and netbook, all in one.
My next plan was to find someone to unlock my Verizon phone, buy a new SIM card in every country and add minutes to it. I figured I could splurge on occasional international phone call, just to hear my husband’s voice every week or so.
What I didn’t realize is that my LG phone is the only phone in the history of the world that cannot be unlocked. It has something to do with satellites and other things I don’t understand. I just know that no matter where I went, no matter what country I was in, every phone hacker said the same thing: No.
So I ditched the LG.
I could have purchased a new phone — one that could be unlocked — and continue with my plan to buy SIM cards along the way, but by that time I was already making calls home.
How? I bought a one-year subscription to Skype for $30.48.
Then I downloaded the free Skype app to my iPhone. Whenever I had wifi, I could easily make calls.
I know, I know. Skype on an iPhone isn’t much of a revelation. But for me it was, because I didn’t think of it until I was actually on the road. And once I was using it, I was blown away by the fantastic value. For that $30, I got unlimited phone calls to the U.S. and Canada (landlines and cell phones), my very own online telephone number AND an online voicemail box.
It was not a perfect solution. Though most of the world is well wired, there were definitely gaps where I couldn’t make or receive calls. But my goal was to stay in touch on a regular basis with my husband and family, and I accomplished that with one device — and one low price.
I mailed a package from Hue, Vietnam to Palm Springs, California. I was told the package would travel by sea and take about 30 days to arrive.
That was three months ago.
I’m sure my package was tucked away in the bowels of a ship somewhere until today, when it showed up in my mailbox. The box is battered and bruised, completely soaked with the stench of petroleum, but it’s here — and I’m thrilled.
The contents included a suit, a coat and a dress I had made by tailors. A photograph for my sister. Three pairs of earrings carved out of coconut shells for my nieces. A gift for my mother-in-law.
Basically, every single thing in that package was made by hand. And that’s one of the things I loved most about traveling — seeing artisans at work.
I know we have craftsmen in the U.S., but unfortunately, I feel like it’s more of an effort to find them here. We relegate our artisans to gallery walks, weekend shows in parking lots, special markets, etsy.com. We don’t honor them as much as hide them.
In other countries, however, the integration is seamless. Art is woven into the fabric of daily life, found everywhere in everything. It is as common as rice and as essential as breathing.
A lot of that is born out of necessity, of course. If somebody doesn’t make something by hand, then you don’t have it. It’s that simple.
Need sandals in Uganda? Almost everybody in Mbale turns to these guys, who will fashion a pair for you out of old, busted tires.
Doing dumplings for dinner? These women in Hoi An make a special kind of dumpling called White Rose, which are stuffed and folded by hand in homemade dough. When steamed, they blossom like flowers.
Having noodles in Hanoi? This lady will knead, pull and slice them for you.
And that brings me to my favorite thing that arrived in the mail today — that gift for my mother-in-law.
I found this man in an alley in Vietnam, and I was blown away by his confident, decisive work. All day long he sits on the floor in a stuffy, cramped space, and he carves stamps out of wood.
A lot of his work is done for businesses or professionals, who use them to personalize stationery with a logo or signature. The other stamps he makes are just for fun. Art for the sake of art.
I thought about this man for two days straight, still marveling over his intricate work, until I decided I would regret it if I didn’t return. I wandered around the labyrinth of alleyways, got lost, asked strangers for help, frantically pantomimed somebody carving stamps and somehow found him again.
Then I gave him my mother-in-law’s name and 10 minutes.
With swift hands, this is what he created.
Simple. Beautiful. Perfect.
And three months later, that piece of art made its way across the ocean and managed to find me again too.