Travels 2.0

Five years ago I wrote up a list of some of my favorite travel experiences - and now, at 110 countries, I thought it was time to provide some updates!

In 2018, my classmate said to me, “I really want to go to Crimea but none of my friends are willing to go with me–you go to pretty wild places, want to come along?” And of course I did, followed by a week of gallivanting through Simferopol, Sevastopol, and other gorgeous Crimean cities, stumbling across local fairs filled with pirogues and plov and Tatar dancing, studying for finals. We ran out of money before the end of our trip and couldn’t take out any more due to sanctions, but we just about made it until we were able to leave and head to Moscow. There, we spent Russian Independence Day watching tanks run down the street and jets scream above our heads.

That same year, my friend and I embarked on a road trip through every tiny city in Europe I had previously missed. While on a mission to get lunch in Lichtenstein, we ended up traveling through at least four countries in a day (Lichtenstein, Germany, Switzerland, Austria). We often slept in the car, waking up to the sunrise above Strasbourg and Munich.

In 2019, I went on a one month trip with my father through Southern Africa. We went scuba diving in Cape Town, saw sand dunes in Namibia, safari’d in Botswana, bungee jumped in Zambia, spent New Year’s Eve camped out in Zimbabwe, white water rafted through Victoria Falls, dove with sea lions in Mozambique, nearly got kicked out of the country on our way to Swaziland, and saw the world’s saddest waterfall in Lesotho (and possibly got malaria there as well).

2020–I finally embarked on my long dreamt of trip to Central Asia. Filled with chaos and beauty at every turn, I am still shocked that I emerged alive from that trip. Seeing gorgeous Islamic architecture and blue tiling, finding a cargo ship/ferry to take me across the Caspian Sea (and getting hit on by the captain), hitchhiking from the boat to a small town in Kazakhstan, being invited into random homes for lunch, then getting suck in that town with no money and having to barter my headphones for a ride across the border into Uzbekistan, etc.

In December 2019, I met my incredible partner–the beginning of many adventures. Teaching Cole to scuba dive in Hawaii, coffee tasting in Columbia, getting kicked out of Barbados for having the wrong PCR test, diving with sharks in the Maldives (where I got so hungover on my last night I could barely leave the hotel), visiting (nearly) every cathedral in France, sleeping in the Barcelona airport after messing up on 24-hour time, exploring the Amazon Rainforest in Ecuador (my country #100!!!!!), climbing 300 vertical meters to visit the Tiger Cave in Thailand in the pouring rain, finding him rabies shots after being bitten by a monkey on a jetski, and wandering around Angkor while delirious from heat stroke.

Spring 2022, walking through Israel with my mother, seeing where I had taken my first steps at the Wailing Wall, visiting Masada, spending time with my momma. 

Summer 2022, I visited my dad in Rwanda, and together we crossed the border in the DRC. There, we hiked hours to see East African gorillas and watch families of primates roll around in the forest and groom each other. We visited a Chimpanzee Rehabilitation Centre, met a local community of native Pygmy people, and drove through the countryside with anti-UN killings and escalating going on just a few kilometers away.

Later that summer, I spent a week with my best friends in Porto, eating the best sardines of my life made by Hannah and grilled by Grace, drinking Port, playing music until 3am every night, and reading by the beach.

And still that same summer, I hitchhiked for two weeks around Morocco. Losing my passport on day 1, we searched through the desert to try to find the diving school car that had it. Being contacted a week later on Twitter that some man saw it in a different town and let me know where to find it–and it was there! Sadly at the same time, my mother had mailed me my other passport, which was apparently illegal, and it is still to this day being held by Moroccan authorities.  

December 2022, I went hitchhiking again, but this time in West Africa! My friend Jake and I rode on top of a 20-hour iron-ore train through the Sahara desert in Mauritania (on Christmas), which was one of the most beautiful and peaceful experiences of my life. We hitched a ride with the ambassador to Senegal, who gave us a place to stay, papers to cross the border, and even cash that he insisted was worthless to him. Jake and I were nearly stranded in many places that trip, sitting in the sun outside Chinguetti listening to early 2010s music, riding busses and motorbikes on our long journey to and from King Kunta Island in The Gambia. We often found ourselves in the middle of nowhere and loved absolutely all of it. 

After celebrating the best day of my life on June 17 in Sitges, Spain, Cole and I embarked on an adventure. Our time in Thailand and Cambodia was filled with white water rafting, lots of scuba (he got his advanced license!), zip lining, hitchhiking, actual hiking, a cooking lesson, hot springs, jetski (where Cole got bit by a monkey oh no), rock climbing, temple hopping, and more. BUT, he had to leave our trip because he got his dream job, leaving me to explore all of Vietnam solo. I made my way up the coast via hitchhiking on the backs of motorbikes and sleeping on busses, walking 15 miles a day in the 95 degree heat and reading like a maniac. The trip culminated with a three day motorbike tour through the Ha Giang loop, where I wound through mountains and clouds, through lush green mountains and torrential rain, through red mud and the most beautiful landscapes of my life, in a place seemingly untouched by time. 

I ended my South East Asia trip by visiting my dad in AlUla, Saudi Arabia, which was filled with gorgeous landscapes and protected areas and history and culture. There, I decided to run 3 miles at noon in 105º heat, of course immediately giving me heat stroke from which I was only recovered by a sunset picnic at Elephant Rock with delicious Pakistani food and pink lines running through the sky. 

I am very excited for the future, and where the rest of my travels take me. :)

Vietnam

Hello all! One of my goals for this year was to write a short piece on all my heftier trips, and so I wanted to share a bit about my recent trip to Vietnam. After an incredible trip through Thailand and Cambodia, Cole had to return to work, leaving me with the perfect opportunity to explore Vietnam on my own. Armed with a visa with an expiration date and a desire to immerse myself in the country's beauty, I set out on a two-week adventure to nine cities. While this blog was initially written as a journal, I hope it will serve as an informative account of my experiences in Vietnam.

 July 9, hitchhike to Ho Chi Minh (6h)

• Main sites: Ben Thanh Market, Nguyen Hue Street, Book Street, waterfront

• Incredible hitches from Phnom Penh to Saigon! One man in a taxi took me all the way to the border, and a family picked me up there and took me to HCM. They even took me to lunch - noodles, it was really nice. They had a 10-year-old son with perfect English who gave me a Pokémon card, a really sweet boy. He was missing a hand, I’m curious if that’s an after-effect of the war and use of Agent Orange.

• Absolutely obsessed with Saigon, it was incredible and lively and bustling and overall really cool. Lots of markets and nice restaurants, not too touristy but very international nonetheless. It still had a very authentic feel to it - I just absolutely loved wandering through the city at night. I walked a ton and even found a book street! I ate summer rolls with peanut sauce and a passion fruit juice at the main market, and couldn’t get over how nice and fresh the food was in comparison to Cambodia and Thailand. It was like Bangkok + Paris + New York, but with none of the aggression. It had a beautiful waterfront and lots of green spaces, felt very clean and safe, but also very hip and edgy - a grunge that I really appreciate. Big ups. 

 July 10, day in Ho Chi Minh, overnight bus to Dalat (10pm-6am)

• Main sites: cathedral, War Remnants Museum, Central Post Office, Saigon Opera House, A O show, Ben Nghe Food Market

• Wandering around Saigon during the day was a bit hot and devastating. I got a coffee and sat by the water, saw all the things I wanted to see. Cried a bit at the War Remnants Museum, in the Agent Orange section. I got really bored and homesick and tired and hung out in a mall food court for a while, once I checked out of the hotel and had nowhere to go. Traveling solo can be a bit devastating at times, especially in the heat. Went to a touristy performance at the opera house - so weird, and impressive - definitely didn’t regret it but it was a wild experience. Then I went and got on my night bus! Definitely a trying day but taught me a lot - also I spent the day listening to a long podcast on the Vietnam War and it really did teach me a whole lot.

 July 11, day tour in Dalat, hitch to Nha Trang

• Woke up from the night bus and went into a tour of the Dalat countryside! It was really quite lovely, we saw animals at a coffee shop where they make weasel and elephant poop coffee (which smelled incredible but I didn’t try), and saw a beekeeping place and tried the honey and larvae. We saw two waterfalls - one much more spectacular than the next, and I sat while watching them and reminisced about the summer and how lovely it was. We saw a giant lady Buddha and I climbed up her, and got nice pho. I made friends with a British man who I got along quite well with, he reminded me of my dad. After a final coffee shop / flower garden stop, I got dropped off on a highway to hitch to my next location. Vietnam has an abundance of motorbikes and a lack of cars, so my first three hitches (starting at 5pm, in vaguely rainy weather), were all on the backs of motorbikes. I finally got let off an hour from Dalat and really didn’t know what to do, I was in the middle of nowhere, when a man in a limo van came and generously picked me up to go to Nha Trang. He blasted house music and we fully had a rave in his car, it was so much fun, even though he barely spoke a word of English. I finally got to Nha Trang and could feel the energy of the city, and was very happy and energized and exhilarated from the hitchhiking journey (although it kind of put me off hitchhiking for the rest of the trip).

 July 12, day in Nha Trang, overnight bus (9:15pm-8am)

• Did some work at the hotel and then walked all around. I saw a local performance at Ponagar Temple (very cool structure) and got a bahn mi sandwich from a cart on the road. It was quite nice and very cheap. I laid on the beach for a while and went swimming, the town was a bit touristy but overall very lively. I walked an hour towards the bus station but then got bored and hitchhiked a ride on a motorbike to the bus. The man was quite sweet and gave me 100k Vietnamese (~$5), despite my attempts to return the money. I met a group of German students traveling around as well while waiting for our bus. 

July 13, Da Nang day trip from Bac Nam

• The bus was late coming in and I had to run to the meeting place for the day tour, but luckily made it. The tour was a strange adventure through a French-themed amusement park - saw the Golden Bridge which was my goal, a bridge held up with giant hands in the sky. I ate delicious Vietnamese doughnuts, these fried sesame balls, and a chicken sausage on a stick. The park was up in the mountains (we used cable car) and had a beautiful view of the water down below.

• Bus to Hoi An, 5:30-6:30pm

• Hoi An was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. It was a town straight out of Spirited Away, all lit up with food carts and lanterns in the sky and on the water. There was an extensive night market with trinkets and homemade goods, and the streets were lined with incredibly cheap beautiful clothing, as the town is known for its tailored suits and outfits. I regret not getting a dress. I wandered around, watched the boats all lit up on the water, with candles and lanterns peppered between them. There was live music and lots of exciting restaurants and bars. I had a tofu Vietnamese rice paper “pizza” from a street cart, and got a couple cheap beers from the local mart to enjoy at my homestay. Definitely my favorite location.

 July 14, spend half day in Hoi An

• Spent the morning wandering Hoi An, walking about 10 miles through rice fields and the beach, while listening to Pride and Prejudice. Considered buying some outfits but sadly didn’t. Instead, I got a bit more sunburned while enjoying the vast green fields and water along the way. I ate a nice chicken rice dish with fish sauce before my bus, which was another sleeper that I consistently find strangely cozy and nice.

• Bus to Hue (12:45, Hoi An Full Moon Bus - 16:45, Tbus Hue)

• Hue is very cool - breezy, open, not as busy as HCM but still has a lively downtown walking area. I walked through all those areas to the boardwalk where there were some nice boats, and then across the bridge to where the imperial city sits. Big Times Square vibes - a little gaudy and bright, doesn’t feel as personable, less of a unique local culture. Found a cool night food market with local food, got myself a nice pho - I should figure out how to read all the different menu items. I rarely order pho because it requires you to sit down and the people watch you eat and I feel self-conscious, I rather walk away with my food, but tonight was alright. All the kids waved and said hello to me (something I experienced throughout my entire trip). I walked 14 miles and drank roughly 5 liters of water today. I’m getting very good at walking in front of motorbikes, although I am a bit homesick for my friends in New York.

July 15, half day in Hue, imperial city

• I had a lovely morning exploring Hue and the imperial city. The imperial ruins were very impressive and spread out, the history was impressive and visible and I enjoyed wandering about. The city itself was cool, but a little cold (personality-wise) and didn’t make a big impression on me. I crossed the water and saw interesting growths in the ponds, and then after a brief reprieve in the hotel to charge up, I walked along the canal to the train station. It was really quite beautiful and verdant and clean; the heat is impacting me less and less, and I feel okay as long as I drink lots of water. Waiting for the train now, just had a lovely rice dish with some pork and shrimp. The train was delayed but the station has air conditioning and wifi and I am comfortable reading until it arrives. I need to do laundry desperately.

• Train to Dong Hoi (13:41 - 16:41)

• Hang in Dong Hoi - I made a friend in the train here! A young Iranian British girl, very cool. After a fine train ride - my first in Vietnam - my new friend and I decided to wander the city. We walked down the Main Street until about found the water, and then we located the walking street filled with food carts. Had a really great bahn mi, and we ate together by the water. We got along really well, talked about family and school and planned future trips to South America and Iran. She eventually left for the next city and I began my way back to the train station, taking a detour across the bridge. It feels like Los Angeles: a bit bright, wide streets, there may be interesting things but they’re not easily found.

• Overnight train to Hanoi (10:43pm-10:35am), annoyingly bright

July 16, Hanoi (Hanoi Charming House)

• Beautiful morning on the train, not the best sleep of my life because people didn’t turn all the lights off but overall I think better than the busses. Or at least equal - the trains have full chargers which is nice, and better views.

• Wandered Hanoi through tiny side streets, a souk style market, clothing/fabric area (lots of silks), beautiful water area with bridge and surrounding park, all very lively even when I got out of the immediate center. Walked through the national park and saw the more beautiful pink flowers. Walked past another outdoors clothes market, this one filled with camouflage and military gear, some of it American - unclear whether any of it authentic. Headed back through the main downtown market area, ate the best lunch of my entire trip by far (even though it cost a whole $5!!!), and saved half of it for dinner which made it all super worth it.

• Very cool night market, the whole street becomes like a huge party filled with lights and food and excitement. Very fun - even though I was very tired and wired, which made it a bit overwhelming. I have no idea how they set up so many stalls, for streets and streets! It was incredibly impressive and extensive, filled with absolutely everything. There was even a pottery painting shop / activity that took over a whole block!

 July 17-20, Hanoi & Transport to Ha Giang

• Main sites: Imperial Citadel of Thang Long, Chùa Tran Quoc, Phu Chu titch, and the Lenin Park

• Woke up tired and homesick. Yikes. Explored some more, walked through the lively downtown area to a more open space full of grand official buildings. This area was really cool and green, felt like the Buckingham Palace part of London - very formal and curated, less “wild” than downtown. Walked part way across the bridge to admire the large Ho Tay body of water. Along the way, just in the street, I saw people playing board games, getting haircuts, gathering around food, selling clothing and other random goods, playing music. It made me really happy to people watch and explore. In retrospect, it feels like an older population than Saigon, but that might be a product of younger tourism there. I also passed by a lovely flower market! All the outdoor shops made a lovely sight to walk through. After a quick stop by the hotel to check out, I got a bahn mi sandwich, filled up my water at a potable water station, and found a bench by the park to eat and hang out! Wandering afterwards, I stumbled across a variety of parks and even a cathedral! Cole would be happy. Very few tall modern buildings; architecture looks like it’s from the 60-90s, it’s not built up like Bangkok (or at least not the part I’ve been in). It’s really easy to wander for hours and barely repeat. Hard for me to figure out what I like more, HCM or Hanoi. Hanoi has more room to explore and is a bit more chaotic, which I typically love, but made me feel a bit suffocated and overwhelmed when things really filled up at night. HCM was more curated and calm but still really intensely cool.

• Bus ride to Ha Giang was absolutely gorgeous - incredible mountain silhouettes and a very orangey red sunset that overlaid everything. Villages and temples and towns peppered the road there, along with vast fields and rice paddies. The deep red dirt is such a contract to the US and makes everything feel more dreamlike and intense in comparison.  The sky began to look somewhat smokey like it was on fire, until it was all a blaze of red. The colors were vibrant beyond compare - and then suddenly, the sky was black. We stopped for lunch and I had a rice tofu dish, which I had actually been craving.

• During these last two days I’ve been reading more social justice books and they’ve been invigorating and intense.  I also have been listening to music on this bus, and I think that’s what I’ve been missing this last week: music. Much happier.

 July 18-20, Ha Giang Loop: three day motorbike loops through the north of Vietnam!

• Day 1, it’s already so fun - rainy and wet and windy and scary. With a group of people, winding through mountains and agricultural areas. Lots of rice paddies, children waving and saying hi, people doing work and not caring about us much. We stopped about every 15k to take photos and chill. It was very beautiful and dreamlike. Been taking the opportunity to reflect on the book I’m reading and thinking about growth and happiness, take account of what I’m grateful for and how I can best use my privilege to redistribute power. We were all so exhausted by the end of the day but it was so worth it. It’s hard to express the experience of these days, a lot of breezing through mountains and villages and agricultural spaces. It was incredibly to see how people in this part of the country live. The loop is a relatively recent development, and so it was interesting to see how locals still got very excited by our presence, instead of being frustrated by it (although that might change in coming years). 

• Day 2, breakfast and then on the road! Incredibly foggy, felt like we were driving through clouds. It was like we were moving through landscape paintings with the fog and sun just vaguely peering through, the rain lightly drizzling on us to make it a full adventure. Looked like a different planet, like land that time forgot - like dinosaurs are going to pop out at any moment. It’s incredibly lush and intense. Switching elevation so often that we’d pass through the clouds, sometimes it’d seem like they were rising from the ground, and other them when it’d be descending from high above. Some roads were very rough and unpaved; puddle and gravel filled the way. With the weather, I’m happy I didn’t drive it myself. I got quite emotional thinking about how lucky I am to have adventures like these and to live a life surrounded by love.

• Incredibly cute children in the middle of this gorgeous landscape. I can’t believe people just live here. Some of the young boys dressed in berets and played the flute, as there used to be a major architect / flute player who dressed like that and lived in the area, becoming a major celebrity and role model for the children. We stopped at a French military base, very magical. Astonishing rock structures - some really black, lava like rocks too - and green just bursting through everywhere.  The fog made it incredible, I started crying a couple times; definitely a moment of “awe.”

• After we finished driving on day 2, we swam in a nearby lake, and had a little party. All the drivers would come up and have us take shots of “happy water” (a type of corn wine) with them. We must have had around 15, on top of several beers. People were dancing and singing - overall a very exciting time, plus we were celebrating my driver’s alleged birthday which made it all the more wild.

• Day 3, the first hot day! It was a whole new perspective, without the rain and the fog - just bountiful green and bright sun. We stopped by a lake at one point with the clearest water, the air absolutely filled with butterflies and dragonflies. It was straight out of a fairytale.

• Eventually, we all got back on a bus to Hanoi, followed by a boring evening and a flight to Laos - but this is where my Vietnam travelog ends!

OVERVIEW / MAIN THOUGHTS RE VIETNAM AS A COUNTRY:

• Real care for fashion and style, all the young people looked very cool 

• Kind, welcoming, safe, even after dark. I never even once felt unsafe, and it wasn’t as aggressive as, say, Bangkok

• Thriving local culture, lots of community spaces including public parks and bodies of water; people were always out doing things together

• If you visit, Ho Chi Minh City, Hoi An, and Hanoi are total musts - everything else was interesting, but those three were definitely the best and some of the coolest cities/places I’ve ever visited in my life

• Incredible street food - very good and consistent in quality and price

  • For reference, 10,000 ($0.42) for a 1.5L water or can of beer at a minimart, 20-30,000 ($0.85-1.27) for street food like bahn mi or pho, 50,000 ($2.11) for bigger dishes from local restaurants

  • Bun cha was my favorite but there was always a variety of bread, rice, and noodle dishes to choose from

  • There were also nice cafes and restaurants, although I didn’t frequent those – although they didn’t seem to be for the exclusive use of tourists, which was nice

• Abundance of fresh fruit and juices and sugar cane

• Deep care for coffee

I'm grateful for the privilege of having such incredible adventures and the opportunity to learn and grow through travel. Vietnam, thank you for an unforgettable experience!

Things I have learned from a year in London

I am a New Yorker to the bottom of my core 

London is incredible diverse if you define diversity in terms of white Europeans

You never know how much the sun really matters until it disappears

Those double decker busses are scary when you’re on a bike 

£20 theater tickets to see random Doctor Who actors live are a major win 

Conflict studies at LSE = Irish civil war 

How can so a city with so much history be so bland 

The north and the south are not friends 

If you thought the number of Starbucks in New York was bad, just wait until you process how many Prets there are in London (but I do love that subscription plan)

Electric bikes are incredible

As many strikes as Paris but people don’t get that into it so it’s less fun 

Please for the love of god find me a cafe / restaurant / pub that is not a chain 

These subways are so deep???? 

New Yorkers and Londoners are both alcoholics but in NY it’s classy with cocktail bars and wine nights rather than just chugging piNTS OUTDOORS

Things cost the same as New York but people get paid way less so idk how that works 

French men are annoying no matter where you are in the world 

However, this city does make Paris seem acceptable by comparison 

London is if Columbia was a city - and by that I mean harshly corporate and neoliberal in its core identity 

Foxes are just abound ? Definitively a win 

West Africa Reflections

When you put your trust in people, they reciprocate. When hitchhiking, you are able to jump into people’s worlds for minutes to hours, (from 1km to 453km), learning about their families, jobs, politics. It is a deep dive, the absolute fastest way into learning about a new place. People are shocked that you are visiting their home and want to hear your thoughts on their country, sharing what they are most proud of. Others want to discuss U.S. politics, asking how you feel about AOC and McCarthy. Some don’t speak the same language or aren’t particularly interested in speaking at all–they just saw you on the side of the road and wanted to give you a ride.

After 93 rides through Mauritania, Senegal, The Gambia, and Guinea Bissau with an average wait time of 6 minutes, it is hard to believe in anything other than the innate goodness of people. The rides vary from Land Cruisers to motorcycles to commercial trucks to locomotives to government vehicles to construction equipment. Nobody asks for money, unless there is a miscommunication; more people attempted to give us money than asked for it. They get concerned for our safety, are impressed by our distance traveled, and all are insistent that we come back and have a meal with their family.

Mauritania was potentially the best singular country experience of my life, nearly completely due to the people we met. When exploring–through cities, fishing ports, the camel market–people seemed unfazed by us, so unused to the experience of tourists that they often didn’t process our existence. We were able to walk through their lives as observers, very unlike the typical travel experience of things moving around you. Every person we came across was extraordinarily kind and helpful, giving us snacks and tea as we rode with them, telling us about new development in the country, what industries were thriving, the intricacies of certain social political dynamics. Someone even provided us with papers to fast track the Senegalese border, just because he could. Many asked for help getting an American visa. We were somewhat nervous about the experience riding on top of the Iron Ore train, as while we knew it wasn’t illegal, we weren’t sure whether people would try to persuade us not to go–however, when we got to the train, we were surrounded by smiles and waves by miners, train inspectors, locals, and police. The only negative experience was when someone thought we were French, which makes sense given the former French colonial presence. When we corrected them, they were incredibly pleased and gave us a high five.

Traveling south from Mauritanian to Senegal was somewhat jarring–after being completely inundated by the Sahara, crossing the border, you see the sand fall away and the landscape come green and lush in a matter of kilometers. The clothes turn colorful and form fitting, the food becomes spicier, and the music starts to sound like drums and excitement. Power dynamics between different local racial groups become less pronounced, white tourists are suddenly visible, and cities become taller and more developed. Snickers and Speculoos disappear, to my disappointment. Fewer people ask us to have dinner with their families and stay at their houses (which seems to be a very Middle Eastern / North African phenomenon), but they remain incredibly kind, excited to talk to us about America, local politics, law school, our families, their families (always with many kids, and sometimes many wives), upcoming construction projects, the impacts of colonialism, etc. We talk to people about our travels, as well as theirs, with many having traveled throughout Europe and Africa for work and for pleasure. Southern Senegal was particularly gorgeous, filled with marshes and greenery everywhere you look. In one car, we discussed the role of climate change, and how domestic wealth inequality has been negatively impacting the environment, drying up wetlands. Bats and palm trees peppered pink and purple skies.

Entering The Gambia was particularly exciting for us given that they speak English (I can only speak so much French). After waking up beachside, we waited for hours for a ferry from Banjul to Berra with hundreds of Gambians trying to get to work, selling snacks and water to their fellow passengers, visiting family. Mere kilometers from the city, we were plunged into the depths of rural Gambia, a beautiful and lively tree-laden, dirt-pathed loop around the country, filled with small villages, young children playing on the street, farms, donkeys, old ladies sitting outside, school busses, and motorbikes (several of which picked us up on our way to Kunta Kinte island, despite having no way to communicate with us whatsoever). The shift between urban and rural in all these countries was quite stark, with clear wealth inequality and differences in physical development. Surprisingly, Gambia felt more remote than parts of Mauritania that were completely embedded in the Sahara, probably because Mauritania depends extensively on foreign products (making American candy available even in the smallest towns), while Gambian villages were widely self-sufficient, making them feel more “foreign” in many ways. We met lots of expats and repatriates: a Gambian man who now works as a taxi driver in Scotland, Lebanese men who own a chocolate shop in Banjul, a British doctor who moved to Gambia.  

Guinea Bissau was completely under construction, with every road in the capital being rebuilt with funding from China. It’s a country that runs on natural beauty, plagued by a history of coups and colonialism. There are saltwater surf hippos and hundreds of baby nesting sea turtles–none of which we got to see, as there is only one ferry that runs to the main archipelago every 1-2 weeks. There existed an absurd number of taxis and busses, donkeys were replaced by hogs, French replaced by Portuguese. It was gorgeous, and very, very hot.

I can’t help but feel some of the trust and generosity we encountered stems from cultural factors, a focus on the community and the family. According to my travel buddy Jake’s statistics, which were taken over dozens of countries all over the world, the lowest wait times are in Muslim regions, which fits with my personal experience. When talking to friends and family, I was often asked, “what do they get in return,” “are you trading sexual favors for rides,” “aren’t you afraid of kidnapping,” etc. I really cannot express how deeply safe it feels to be in these cars, where people are more concerned for you than you are for yourself, who want to make sure you get to your destination, who want to make sure you are okay. These experiences force you to consider the individualistic tendencies of western culture, as there is a clear distinction. When you visit a new country, you drink the tea. You eat the food. You talk to the people. You share your world with them, and they share theirs with you. Coming in with a sense of distrust deprives you of the full experience. You must embrace everything–and honestly, hitchhiking is the fullest embrace I have experienced yet.

Central Asia, Part 2

This next part is a doozy. After arriving in Beineu and exploring for a couple days, I miss my train — not because I was late; in fact, I was waiting for several hours at the station. No, I purely didn’t realize that the train had arrived, and by the time I located it after asking around for several minutes, it was departing right in front of my eyes. Turns out the next train left the following day, but was sold out, just like the train leaving the day after. After begging the train clerk for help, they said I could try to come the next day and bargain with the conductor for a spot on the sold out train. 

This is where my big problem began: I had no money. In this small village, none of the ATMs accepted my American debit card so I couldn’t get cash, and neither the hotels nor the train station would accept my card. Plus, I couldn’t buy a ticket online because the train I needed was hosted by Russian Railways and thus required a special form you could only get in Russia. Essentially, I was stranded in this village abound in billowing dust and small shacks; the vague smell of fried food permeating the stale air. I genuinely thought I might have to stay and work at the hotel washing dishes until I gathered enough money to leave. However, I scrounged up my remaining cash and, despite being a bit short, convinced the hotel to let me stay an extra night. 

The next day, I trekked in the fresh snow to every bank in a 5km radius to no avail, until I finally found a small hotel that accepted debit cards and made a deal to swap a charge for cash. However, they could only give me 10,000 tenge, which is about $25 — not enough to get on this 24 hour train by any means. So, I hired a taxi to take me to the border of Uzbekistan for about half of my remaining money, and decided I would wing it on the other side, either by hitchhiking or finding a cheap taxi that could take me to Nukus. A couple of incredibly sweet and helpful Uzbek boys coached me through messenger on what to do once I got to Nukus, and together we found a train to Bukhara and (free) housing once there, and a train from Bukhara to Samarkand. This meant one less day in Samarkand (which sucks as this was the part of my trip I was most excited for), but at least I wasn’t stranded in Beineu, which was the main worry. Plus, this way I got to explore Uzbekistan a little more, negotiating the socio-political and historical aesthetics of Nukus and Bukhara more thoroughly.

I crossed the border into Uzbekistan on foot in less than 20 minutes, the passport control being incredibly easy despite the ominous “good luck” sign that loomed over customs. And, compared to the first one I ever attempted, a harrowing border fiasco between the West Bank and Jerusalem, this was remarkably painless. 

On the rationale for this trip, it’s necessary to know I’ve been obsessed with Uzbekistan for over two years now. In my early days of working as a political-military analyst for the Hudson Institute, all my assignments were about Uzbekistan, which led to me choosing it as a topic for several Sciences Po assignments as well. I had deeper knowledge about this one country than nearly anywhere I had previously visited, especially regarding the reforms made under the new president Mirziyoyev, and wanted to see it for myself more than anything. However, at that time, visas for most countries in Central Asia were very difficult to obtain, requiring an invitation letter or an official tour. But much to my delight, Uzbekistan and others opened up to tourism just this past year, providing me with the perfect opportunity to finally embark on my dream trip.

On the other side of the border, finally in Uzbekistan, I swapped my tenge for somoni, the local currency, and luckily found a shared taxi that was willing to take me the seven hours to Nukus. However, I didn’t have enough cash for the ride, there were no ATMs and all the banks would be closed by the time we arrived — so in a (successful) act of desperation, I bartered my somewhat broken bright pink noise-cancelling headphones to make up for the remaining 80,000 som (roughly $8). I was just happy it didn’t come to anything less easily replaceable, especially after all the recent harassment. Plus, I think my father would kill me if I traded his prized portable charger, which was a lifesaver during this trip, for a taxi ride.

This trip has not been one for particularly gorgeous photos (though that might change once in Samarkand), but it has definitely been the most exciting and difficult journey of my life. Crammed into the back of a cab with three other passengers, my huge backpack lay on my lap, compacted by an elegant older woman in a cozy fur coat sitting too close for comfort. For hundreds of miles, I gazed at the flat orange terrain scattered with nondescript towns marked by short clay huts and torn up billboards. Barren and oppressive, apocalyptic smoke rose from every building. For seven hours, we shook along dirt roads that rivaled those of rural Malawi (in regard to bumpiness). I was hoping to make use of my headphones one last time before we were tragically parted, but alas, they transferred me to a different car, which smelled like dog, with a different driver an hour away from Nukus, and I reluctantly handed them over.

Finally, Nukus appeared, a glowing city with ATMs and hotels with shampoo AND conditioner, and that accept debit cards!! I felt like I had entered paradise.

After a lovely sleep and indulging in a huge hotel breakfast of potato pastries, eggs, and chocolate, I went exploring through the city. Swerving through bicycles on the streets, I came across the central market. Stalls, wagons, boxes, brimming with everything from fruit to lingerie to electronics — providing me with a very cheap replacement set of headphones. The wafting aroma of freshly baked pastries and fish mingled in the air, and that with the feverish  tumult of hagglers all vied for my attention. I wove my way through the lanes of vendors, taking photos of those willing, my shoes getting increasingly muddy following the previous night’s downpour. I found my way to the Nukus Museum, where Russian avant garde art hung alongside that of Socialist Realism; I was especially taken with the art of P. Benkov, Z. Kovalevskaya, and V. Lysenko. Otherwise, the city was an interesting mix of half-built abandoned homes, ancient fortresses and mausoleums, offering much to see and eat and experience.

I rambled along the channel dividing the city, making my way across the glistening water to the Muhammad Imam Iyshan Meshiti mosque. This was what I was most looking forward to: the regal, colorful, classic mosques of Uzbekistan, with intricate patterns ornamented with turquoise tiles. I was too timid to step inside; as I didn’t want to disturb the ongoing prayers, but I lingered outside for nearly an hour, mesmerized by the bright domes and minaret, magnificently arresting in the midday sun.

After several hours of exploring, I finally returned to the hotel, slightly homesick as I passed very New York-looking yellow taxi cabs. I packed up my things, got cash so as not to get stranded again in the future, said goodbye to my exquisite lodgings, and walked an hour through dusty, rural Nukus to the train station, determined not to miss another train.

Travel

I never choose the window seat, because I want to be the first one racing out the door when we touch down. I’ve been trained as a New Yorker to never stop, to take lines as a mere suggestion and to treat slow walkers like obstacles in a maze. I use my travels as an exercise of my quick upbringing, identifying the must-sees and trip-advisor day-tours, moving a mile-a-minute through the streets of new cities with simply my camera and a backpack. I refuse to take cabs from the train or bus station, walking is my preferred methods of transport - which has led me to some interesting experiences gallivanting around Yerevan, Chisinau, Beirut (...) in the dead of night, reassuring myself of all the comforting things I tell my mom to make sure she doesn’t worry. It’s also led me to my best photos and most authentic experiences, to the neighborhoods filled with genuine people outside the urban centers, setting up their restaurants and preparing for the day ahead. While the big touristy experiences can be interesting (if not extremely overwhelming), it’s the meandering journeys I take to get there through markets and parks and even along highways, the street food I discover on the way and the sounds of people chattering, that truly make my quest not just another page from a guidebook.

I never plan what I’m doing, quickly finding a hostel on my phone using the airport wifi while going through customs and finding some distant point to make my way to using google maps (honestly my travel savior, I would be literally dead without it and honestly was close when in China - Baidu just doesn’t do the trick). I search for experiences that continue to push me to be my wildest self - from skydiving above the Dead Sea to sinkhole jumping in Oman (not my best moment) to stealing currency in North Korea (probably shouldn’t publicly admit to that), I tend to make decisions that aren’t the smartest. And while I admit that many of my reckless choices are a product of my desire to uphold my reputation, it’s more to myself than to anyone else. I want to continuously prove to myself that I am the brave girl that my parents raised me to be, that I’m not growing weak as I get older, but rather that I am taking every opportunity that I am presented to ensure that I will never have to face the regret of what I could have done if I just weren’t so cautious. I yearn for experiences that interrogate normative patterns of thinking and being, environments that urge me to question my standards.

However, I understand that my travel can be extremely problematic, on a number of levels which deserve to be acknowledged. As a human rights major and self-proclaimed politically correct semi-“woke” bitch, I need to learn to separate my search for wild stories from actually supporting violent and abusive regimes that go against all that I work to deter (which is why I will ​not be going to Saudi Arabia any time soon), and from taking advantage of my opportunities in a way that simply furthers modern day white imperialism (no voluntourism thank you very much). And while I preach traveling as if it were a sprint, I often forget that I am not a machine. I abuse my body through lack of sleep and food and water, forcing it through hours of just ​going in shoes that are not made for walking and clothing that should not be worn in negative degree weather (you’ve all seen my skirts-only wardrobe). My parents and friends have to beg me to take a break and just sleep on occasion, which is a concept that completely defies my sense of self-image. Half my decisions are powered by my mental health, or lack thereof, with anxiety that tears through my chest on a near-constant basis, forcing me to power through so that I don’t waste any second I am awarded outside of school or work. There is a pressure in my heart whispering that I will never forgive myself if I don’t take that jump, that with every time I decide to relax instead of tackling some new adventure, I am that much less impressive.

My heart races thinking about all the places I have never been and all the time that I do not have - my mind fills the future with dreary classrooms and desk jobs that won’t permit me to escape at any impulsive urge. But hopefully, I will find new opportunities which will allow me to adventure in more productive ways, through work that is less selfish than simply wanting to see everything that I possibly can. People criticize my travel for just wanting to cross places off my list - but it’s most of a manifestation of how daunting and big the world feels, and how I’m terrified of not being able to see it all. I will continue to walk the Earth, tearing through countries as if I were running away, but I’m slowly realizing that sometimes it’s necessary to stop rushing. I never choose the window seat, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate those moments when I forget to specify a preference and end up taking a hundred photos of sunsets on my phone. It is when I finally slow down and abandon my hectic New York mentality that I can actually appreciate all the little moments along the way and see just how lucky I am to experience all that I have.

Is it really helping?

We attend a school for politically minded students, for those who possess an insatiable curiosity regarding the world and all its complex intricacies. Adorned with our elitist education and politically and culturally-astute sensitivities, we are driven by a desire to go out and do good in the world, help underprivileged and disenfranchised communities.

This gets complicated very quickly. While most of us are highly critical of US interventionist policies, we can be hypocritical in this regard ourselves, embarking on a journey to provide disadvantaged groups with what we feel will help them most. Take TOMS shoes for example - while they dedicated their entire mission to giving children in Africa shoes, this really wasn’t necessary and had no real impact on the community; the money could have been spent in much more effective ways (Buying TOMS shoes is a terrible way to help poor people).

That’s not to say all smaller NGOs are useless, and that the ones focused on more individual-scale issues should be completely disregarded - as the cliche goes, helping one person might not change the whole world, but it could change the world for one person. This being said, it is important to see what impact is really being made. New Western NGOs pop-up every day with identical mission statements, created by idealistic youth who believe that they know best, when in reality the money that is used to establish new programs in low-income countries could be so much more useful if given to already developed organizations with the proper connections and infrastructure to actually make a substantial difference. Of course innovation is important, but for the most part these organizations don’t truly hold any unique qualities.

Somebody once told me that it is necessary to consider when starting a new job or traveling to a new place under the guise of humanitarian work, are you doing more for the community, or is the experience doing more for you? There is a thin line between traveling to gain experience and using the information to learn in a useful manner (if there is one), and taking advantage of a place. “White savior complex” is a common phrase, but I believe that the definition should be more broad than some Westerner who visits war-torn communities, volunteers in unsustainable ways, and takes selfies with POC where the visitor is still the center of attention. Many NGOs are guilty of this same syndrome, never asking what the communities actually need and instead imposing their preconceived notions of good onto them.

What is truly beneficial is a complex network of intersecting trajectories. Some may consider that simply learning about the world and sharing these experiences is enough, however it is necessary to weigh out the positives and negatives of entry (particularly considering the profound carbon footprint, whether the money you spent on flights could have been spent on actually making an impact, etc.). The money spent on voluntourism and mission trips, (which are often unsustainable, succeed primarily in making the attendees feel good about themselves), could be used towards actually making a difference.

Sometimes international studies can be orientalist in themselves, and oftentimes people romanticize other parts of the world and try to help in a way that can do much more harm than good (The Exploitative Selfishness of Volunteering Abroad). Despite this, I believe that intent and application of these studies are instrumental in establishing if someone is taking advantage of others’ difficult situations for their own good, whether that be for their career, personal imagine, or sense of morality.

There is no easy answer to these considerations, it is just necessary to maintain a sense of self-awareness and to constantly be re-evaluating your intentions. This is something I am trying to navigate myself, and honestly don’t have many answers. Still, I try my best to keep a critical eye and to practice effective altruism, and encourage others to do the same.

Why I Will Never Go On Birthright

Propaganda is not necessarily a monologue that intends to incite reflection. but rather works to produce echoes. Now, W.H Auden may not have been talking about Israel and their underhanded tactics, but his understanding of propaganda can definitely be applied to describe and explain birthright.

‘Taglit-Birthright Israel’ or simply 'Birthright' is a well-known Jewish heritage experience that many young Jewish people take part in. In its description, it sounds like a fantastic cultural experience that is packed with authentic cultural and historical experiences - and it's free! Unsurprisingly, this has led to me being asked the same question an umpteen number of times: "Why haven't you gone on Birthright yet Safia?” I continuously toss this question aside, having no intention of getting into an intense political conversation with family members and acquaintances who mean no harm - but then despite my efforts, I am bombarded with the same old slew of comments, "You really must go!” or  “It’s an unforgettable experience, you’ll just fall in love with Israel!”

But now, down the rabbit hole we go after all - once and for all I’d like to explain why I have never, and will never will, go on Birthright - even if it's free.

Taking into account the dozens of accounts of the trip, I can begin to piece together a slightly precise idea of the overall experience one receives from the trip; Sarah Rosenblatt, a popular illustrator, affirms that “The Zionist indoctrination I experienced on the trip was far more insidious and violent than I had expected.”

Escorted by IDF soldiers at most times, Birthright trips are meticulously designed to present a comprehensive flawless (and highly fictitious version) of Israel, ostracizing and obscuring any possible traces of Palestinian life. These trips, quite clearly,  are devised to establish cultural and political support for Israelis (which sheds light on why American Jews and the US, in general, are such avid champions of Israel); it doesn't end there though, the trip tries to obstruct the consequences of the country’s highly problematic policies that include but are not limited to:

1. Israeli occupation of Palestine,
2. an abundance of apartheid laws that actively discriminate against Palestinians in daily life,
3. and the denial of rights to Palestinian refugees to return home.

I had a hearty laugh when I heard about various instances of tour groups visiting Palestinians schools - these school visits are intended to show young and impressionable Jews that YES! Arabs are in fact people too, and Israeli Jews and Arabs live in harmony and eat hummus and couscous together!

Ok, maybe I am being cynical, but what about the other elements of the trips? Another itinerary event involves quickly driving through Gaza with the sole purpose of saying, “look, no genocides here!” - the propaganda and manipulation are almost poetic at this point.

However, quite recently, Taglit-Birthright Israel’s education department made an announcement stating that all trips must cease any interactions with Israeli Arabs or Palestinians in their program. Brilliant! that was the authenticity that was missing from this propaganda trip - an established rule that now prevented contact with any non-Jewish state citizens. This is truly indicative of the problems with Birthright as Arab Israelis make up 21.6% of the population of Israel; they are a crucial part of Israeli culture and history. How can one truly learn about Israel, when they can't even interact with almost a quarter of its citizens? The idea that a proper dialogue was present before was quite ridiculous, but the lack of any remotely different perspective is frightening, especially for a 'heritage' trip. Tunnel vision is damaging,  multiple perspectives add multiple dimensions to any dialogue, thus neglecting and censoring them would be detrimental to actual growth or discovery - ironically defeating the purpose of Birthright trips.

To explain the depth of the consequences of birthright, bear with me as I share a bit of history and Palestinian perspective; during the 1948 Nakba, Palestinians were driven from their homes in the dozens, never to return. Many of them kept the key to their houses with them when they left and passed them down over several generations with the hopes that one day they would be able to return - not only can they never sleep in their own beds, they can never visit their own homeland of Jerusalem, the holiest place for most Palestinians. Now, in the status quo, take a moment and consider the 18-year-old American with a vaguely Jewish background, possibly not even Bat Mitzvahed, who is able to embark on an all-inclusive ten-day trip to Israel with every experience meticulously planned and censored.

Yes, I do agree, it’s a great opportunity for a free trip, but the pretense and political implications behind it are glaring. How can we ever expect to see anything but support from the young impressionable adults that only ever see such a one-dimensional view of their supposed 'homeland'? Furthermore, not only are these non-Israeli Jews given a chance to visit Israel, but they are also given the right to settle in Israel (with automatic citizenship) according to the 1950 Law Of Return. All these privileges while the while the people who built their homes and started families on those same grounds are locked behind guarded walls. It is well known that one of the primary goals of Birthright is to persuade young Jews to one day take advantage of the Law of Return and move to Israel. The intention is distinctly obvious, they are working towards ensuring that  the majority in Israel always remains Jewish, despite the presence of 1.8 million Arab Israeli citizens. The Israeli government is safeguarding the political power of Jewish people by maintaining this majority and thus will continue to build settlements and further assert their dominance over Israel and its surrounding territories, and subsequently the people who lived there before.

As Jewish Voice for Peace aptly explains, “It is fundamentally unjust that Israel’s Law of Return extends a ‘right to return’ to any Jew around the world, regardless of their personal familial ties to Israel, while denying the right to return to Palestinians, whose families have lived there for centuries.” If you cannot see the fundamental flaw with this ideology and legislation, than no amount of information or statistics will change your mind about why Birthright is a fundamentally bad idea, and why Israel is an oppressor.

Many a time, during these discussions, I am told that I am not allow to have an opinion on something or somewhere without seeing or experiencing it myself - this argument is absolutely incredulous and flawed. Will you discount a man’s activism and active involvement fighting patriarchy because he hasn’t experienced it? Is it inherently logical to shun perspectives and opinions of non U.S Citizens on Donald Trump? If you support this rhetoric of ‘No experience, no opinion’, all you’re doing is suggesting that it’s wrong for anyone who is not North Korean to comment on the country’s dire state and Kim Jong-Un’s tyrannical rule and policies.   

As someone who is majoring in Middle Eastern geopolitics, worked extensively in the region regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and interviewed people on both sides of the issue, I feel that I have as much of a right to an opinion as that of an American Jew who attended a 10-day  government-funded trip to Israel after graduating high- school.

Some of you have told me that taking part in Birthright is completely fine as long as you go in with a critical mind and ask the right questions - here’s the problem,  by doing that, all you accomplish is perpetuating an inherently corrupt system. In my opinion, refusing to go on Birthright is confronting privilege head-on, a privilege constructed on dispossession and injustice. If not from here, hear it from the educated activists at Jewish Voice For Peace who say, “Whether or not a Birthright participant has intentions to be critical on the trip, or to protest a settlement or join an anti-occupation collective after their trip, their participation in the program reinforces the interests of the state and right-wing organizations that shape Birthright programming.”

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Here is some extra reading for those who are interested!

https://jewishvoiceforpeace.org/returnthebirthright-faq/
https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-law-of-return/
http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/politics/2014/07/max_steinberg_death_howbirthright_convinces_american_jews_to_embrace_israel.html
https://medium.com/the-establishment/racism-and-religious-hypocrisy-on-my-birthright-trip-to-israel-659ec1a1550a
https://forward.com/scribe/384016/why-i-refuse-to-go-on-birthright-and-you-should-too/
https://truthout.org/art/birthright-is-wrong/