The Art of Anecdote: When Crazy Stories Become Conversation Starters
"So how many countries have you been to?"...
"What's your favorite place in the world?"...
"Tell me the craziest thing that's happened to you."...
"Where's your next big adventure going to be?"...
People
who get around (globally speaking) know exactly what I'm talking about.
You're at a party or gathering and, through some tangential twist of
conversational fate, one of your friends lets the cat out of the bag -
You travel. And boy do you have stories.
Many
people might find this unbelievable, but I'm
actually not quite on the ball as one might think when it comes to blabbing about my travel
experiences. For one thing, I could never imagine walking into a
crowded room and immediately begin spewing out all of the wonderful or
wacky things that have befallen me while abroad; it usually takes a bit more probing to get me talking. While I know some
travelers who will stop at nothing to ensure you don't go home without hearing how awesome their lives are, my fear of potentially coming
across as some boastful "destination collector" has usually kept me
keeping many stories to myself. Another deterrent of pretentious
storytelling are banal questions like the ones written above which,
after years of jaded interrogation in nearly every kind of social
setting, typically end up getting answered briefly and vaguely... or
sometimes not at all.
But
sometimes the context of a conversation shifts in such a way where a relevant adventure tale just begs to be told. Thus enters the anecdote -
a short and amusing blurb about something you've experienced that often
leaves an audience entertained, baffled, and certainly wanting more.
They can be great conversation-starters, ice-breakers, or simply fun
reflections to share with intrigued friends. In light of many people
asking over the years, I present below a personal selection of brief travel anecdotes that people consistently request to be retold.
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When
I was 12 years old in Egypt, I'd lead my very own
tour
groups around the ancient tombs at Giza and Saqqara. I
took them around the pyramids and explained to them the history and
archaeological significance of the pharaonic sites, as I was an avid amateur Egyptologist from an early age. They had no idea that I was in
fact not even Egyptian, but merely a kid enjoying his own summer break... and probably didn't mind as long as I didn’t charge an outrageous baksheesh or get caught by the police for having no tourism license.
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| Too young for coffee, take a camel break |
At age 10, I was stranded in the Amazon rainforest for a day and night, miles from any kind of civilization, sitting in a drenching rain storm while floating
down a river in a boat with a broken motor and crawling with tarantulas,
without any light source and only half a bag of soggy bread for food, desperately searching for a native village to take refuge. And you thought you
had bad days. [More on this story here]
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| This could've been the pic of me on the side of milk cartons nationwide |
When I was 9, my family and I went to a Moroccan
restaurant to celebrate a family event. The local belly-dancer put on a
rather mundane performance that nevertheless amused the easily-excited,
Western diners, who eagerly stuffed cash into her
bra and skirt strap as she made her rounds. Feeling my inner Arabic groove and thinking I could do better,
I took some finger cymbals and performed raqs sharqi around the restaurant after her show. I made 13 dollars.
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| Male belly dancers in Morocco... and you thought I was the only one |
One of the most memorable and epic moments of my life was standing
between my mother and father, bundled up tightly, hand in hand, at
the base of Mt. Everest on the Tibetan side. I can’t think of any other
feeling or memory that surpasses it... except perhaps the splitting migraine that accompanied camping at 18,000 feet. [More on this story here]
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| Everest Base Camp, home of the world's jankiest public pit toilet |
In 2007 in China, my parents and I were arrested, jailed, forcefully interrogated, and
penalized by a corrupt communist police force for supposedly attempting to
"smuggle" Tibetan silver knives via air from Dunhuang to Kashgar in East
Turkestan. Ok, so we did have a bunch of knives, and yes, my father did end up telling China to go fuck itself to the police and in perfect Mandarin. But it really was just a huge misunderstanding that mutated into an utterly traumatizing experience. The police stole our property and my parents are permanently banned from China, possibly including myself as I have yet to apply for another visa.
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| Mao waving us good-bye from China... forever |
Suddenly, everyone started hollering and rushing over from one side of the bus to the other. Luggage and livestock were frantically being tossed from the roof to the ground. Everyone was ordered off, disembarking into the rain and tromping through the thick wet mud in a brief episode of utter mayhem. I groggily awoke from a nap and looked out the window to see that there wasn't even a road in front of us anymore. The heavy monsoon rain had just washed it several hundred feet down the cliff side. Aaaand there's goes a bus too. I wasn't sleepy anymore. Welcome to Nepal.
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| Himalayan road at its widest point |
One day in the Djema el-Fna square of Marrakesh, I sat outside a
storefront and started to play a darbouka. A store keeper
heard my drumming, sat down with his oud, and started to strum. A daf drummer in the area also joined, while a passing
Gnawa performer dropped by, pulled out his karkabeb, and started
clacking away. A decent crowd had formed, enticed by the rhythmic music echoing throughout the bazaar. After ten
minutes of improvisational jamming, we stopped, thanked each other, and
all went our separate ways.
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| Jamming with Amazigh nomads. Half of that trip involved jamming! |
Excerpt from a diary entry dated July 1996. Gunung Bromo, Java, Indonesia:
"Today, Dad made me so mad. He yelled at me for going close to the volcano. I looked inside and there was lots of smoke and also the ground shaked [sic]. Then I tripped and almost fell in the volcano. It was so cool."
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| Almost fell in, but whatever... It was so cool! |
Right before my second year
of high school was my camping excursion in the Sahara, the year that I
also received my first summer
homework assignment. Being a diligent student, I brought stacks of AP
World History outlines to the desolate
dunes of Merzouga to write and study. The day I arrived at the oasis, a sandstorm of massive
proportions struck, forcing my family to take shelter in the dark
hallways of a mud brick kasbah, where sand could still be seen sprinkling in
through the reed roof. I returned after the storm to find our disheveled room covered in a half-foot layer of sand, the windows blown open,
and my homework gone. "My dog ate it" suddenly became so much more
believable.
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| Curse you, Sahara, for stealing my homework! |
I am fortunate enough to have grown up in an environment filled with a variety of languages. But sometimes too many linguistic mindsets can lead to embarrassing moments. One funny incident involved taking a taxi in Amman with a very talkative driver. We chatted in Arabic about my life, travel plans around the Middle East, and even baklava (yes, baklava). Partway through the conversation, something reminded me of my Mexican friend. As he kept asking me questions, I suddenly and consistently started answering "Si, señor, todo esta bien". Everyone in the taxi burst into a guffaw.
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| Baklava - A language we can all understand |
What do the Princess of Yogyakarta, the President of Mongolia, and the Dalai Lama all have in common? They were all forced to acknowledge my hysterical jumping and waving.
The only cameo appearance and television interview I've ever been granted just happened to be on
Mongol National Television. Why? I was the only foreigner at the Naadam festival wearing a full, traditional deel robe. [More on this story here]
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| "Why yes, I'm perfectly aware that I'm not Mongolian, thank you" |
When I was in the jungle on the Venezuelan-Colombian border, I bought a tortilla meat wrap from a roadside stand. I thoroughly enjoyed more than half of it until I looked more closely at it… and noticed that it was alive. My life was never the same after that.
Useful advice: Seeing the massive private yacht carrying King Abdullah II and Queen Rania cruising through the Gulf of Aqaba is one thing. Hiring a dinky glass-bottom boat to take you as close to the royal yacht as possible is another. Don't do the other.
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| Note to self: Don't try getting within 100 feet of this vessel. |
When
my parents and I visited Romania, we made it absolutely necessary
to visit the fabled region and castles of Transylvania, known worldwide
for being the home of the infamous Dracula. As a rational person with
only a casual interest in local legends, I do
not believe in such tales. Arriving late at the remote village of
Sighisoara,
I learned that my father had rented a house rather than reserving a room. Located at the edge of the citadel, the house was 600 years
old, dark and creaky, and literally bordering a creepy cemetery. There was garlic hanging above the front door. That night, I
had to sleep with the kitchen light on. I was 21.
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| Sure it looks fine in the day, but it felt deadly at night (pun intended!) |
Random childhood memory: 12-hour bus ride through the jungle on the
night of a huge thunderstorm, suddenly interrupted by a group of camouflaged soldiers sporting machine guns.
Everyone forced off and lined up on the side of the road. Bus fully
searched. Passengers fully searched... "Why, what is this large white brick, señor?"
I've learned that "massage" in Turkish is NOT the same concept as in
English, but rather involves lying face-down on a searing slab of marble
in a boiling room lacking oxygen, being physically beaten by an
excessively hairy man in a loincloth, determined to remove every last
inch of dead skin from your mutilated body.
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| No hairy man pics, but how about a cute Turkish sailboat jam instead? |
The only
time I've ever sustained a concussion was on the absolutely absurd
Chinese concept known as the "sleeper bus". Sleeper buses share similar
qualities to a train compartment with bunk-like beds, except on a bus.
Mix
in some extremely bad roads, Gobi desert dunes, 100-degree heat, and a
drunk bus driver and you have yourself a classic recipe for trauma.
Every
bump resulted in the reclining passengers getting the wind knocked
out of them, while everyone screaming "Ooh!" and "Ahh!" in unison did
nothing to catch the tipsy driver's attention. Of the 11-hour journey,
the last 4 hours were suddenly cut short for me. I was later told that,
having driven over a massive pothole, I flew off my bed and hit the
bunk above me with full force. Arriving in Beijing from Erlian, I told
myself "never again."... Three
years later, I took it from Golmud to Dunhuang.
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| Most asinine form of transport ever conceived |
Five things I learned while camping and trucking through East Africa:
(1) Never cross paths with an angry elephant. (2) Do not pet the lion
two feet from your jeep window, despite the temptation. (3) Opening a
package of cookies in baboon territory is a terrible mistake. (4) Warthogs apparently
steal bananas, bar soap, and beer. (5) The bloody answer to fricken everything is T.I.A. ("This is Africa"). [More on this story here]
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| What a pissed elephant looks like, on the verge of ramming into our jeep |
Nakuru National Park, 11:30 PM. We had all just bundled ourselves
up in our tents, ready to turn in for the night. Our guide continued to
sit out by the fire, chatting quietly with his friends. Suddenly, some baboons in a nearby tree became anxious.
Gruaah!
-- "Hear that, guys?! That's a lion!", our guide whispered excitedly.
Gruuuuaaah!
-- "It's chasing something. Don't worry, broo. Lions rarely approach camps."
GRUUUAAAAH!
-- "Fuck, broo! Run to the truck! Run to the truck!"
I was still in my tent.
-- "Hear that, guys?! That's a lion!", our guide whispered excitedly.
Gruuuuaaah!
-- "It's chasing something. Don't worry, broo. Lions rarely approach camps."
GRUUUAAAAH!
-- "Fuck, broo! Run to the truck! Run to the truck!"
I was still in my tent.
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| Literally no sleep the night one of these bad boys came to camp! |
I once met a friendly fellow out walking about at Lake Naivasha, Kenya.
He seemed a
bit off but was otherwise social and welcoming. He offered to show
us around the lake, to which we politely declined. Walking around the lake the next day, we were
perplexed to see a hubbub of police trucks swarming the docks. Our
light-hearted
local greeted us as usual, but this time while being handcuffed and leading
armed guards. Confused, we later learned from a local newspaper that our
cheery friend was actually a
deranged serial killer, notorious for having kidnapped and murdered a
number of
children out of ritualistic purposes. Having been caught, he was taking local officials to the marshy
graves where two ill-fated youths were stashed. Moral of the story:
sometimes unlicensed guides aren't the most cost-effective.
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| Lake Naivasha: Ideal for hippo and serial killer sitings |
In keeping with my passion for exotic foods and openness to try anything, I once found myself at a roadside bar in the rural highlands of Northern Vietnam, ordering its daily special - grilled dog. I assumed that the village raised dogs specifically for consumption. I couldn't have been more wrong. The waiter stepped outside the bar with a burlap sack, went up to a loose dog on the street, quickly bagged the poor kicking creature, and bonked it on the head. I've never felt so morally conflicted eating such a delicious meal.
In July of 2010, I was interrogated by Emirati officers at the Hatta border post while crossing over from Oman on my way to Dubai. They couldn't understand why I had three sets of entry and exit stamps in under three weeks, of which two sets were merely two days apart. They thought I was smuggling things or, even more hilarious, spying. They persistently questioned what business I had driving all the way to Muscat for only two days. But as dubious as it sounds, I honestly insisted that I "just felt like stopping by".
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| Vietnam can be a food extravaganza... if you leave your conscience behind |
In July of 2010, I was interrogated by Emirati officers at the Hatta border post while crossing over from Oman on my way to Dubai. They couldn't understand why I had three sets of entry and exit stamps in under three weeks, of which two sets were merely two days apart. They thought I was smuggling things or, even more hilarious, spying. They persistently questioned what business I had driving all the way to Muscat for only two days. But as dubious as it sounds, I honestly insisted that I "just felt like stopping by".
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| Smuggling across the UAE-Oman border in my inconspicuous white Nissan |
The only time I can remember ever blushing in public occurred at a local picanteria in the heart of Cusco, Peru. I'd just hiked down from Sacsaywaman and was utterly famished. I crashed down at the table and decided to order the first thing that met my eye on the menu. "Ubre". Up until then, my Spanish was getting me around quite nicely. But I was completely clueless on this one, so I asked the waitress to explain. A rapid roll of Spanish words flew right over my head before she passionately began to fondle her own breasts. After a second of initial shock, I realized she was referring to a cow's udder. Flustered and absent minded, I pointed to her breasts and said, "I'll take one of those".
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| The infamous Cusco cow boob incident of 2010 |
Back in 2002, I was stranded on the island of Crete for well over a week due to mass
transportation strikes that devastated the Greek ferry system that month. Go ahead... ask me to draw a map of it from memory. Also, my father accidentally drove onto the roof of an old lady's house in one village, but that's a story for another time.
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| Too sexy for Santorini... I'm a Crete type of guy |
My friends still laugh when they learn I don't ride roller-coasters. My
response? Keep your sissy coasters and talk to me once you've ridden for 18
hours on a moldy train in Myanmar infested with hanging spiders, flying roaches, and scurrying mice... all
the while violently flinging passengers from their seats and nearly on
the verge of derailing. [More on this story here]
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| The train ride from Hell |
You know you've criss-crossed Southeast Asia one too many times when you can endure 7 hours of off-roading through the jungle in the bed of a tiny pick-up crammed with live chickens, sacks of rice, a small goat, 27 other villagers hanging off its roof and sides - and think nothing of it.
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| That's me in the middle... somewhere... |
Nothing says "Hello!" quite like having a lovely, loaded AK-47 shoved in your face by a Mursi tribe elder. And nothing says "Why, hello there!" quite like getting felt up by an old Karo tribe woman who can't discern your gender. [More on this story here]
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| Your gun vs my camera... who will shoot first? |
While most people find peace of mind in church, only I (with my
propensity for bad luck) could find myself uneasy and trapped -
literally. While visiting the medieval rock-cut Church of St. George in
Lalibela, Ethiopia, the priest forgot I was still inside and locked up.
As the church is carved straight down into the solid rock cliff, I was
essentially imprisoned in a 100 foot deep pit without food or water,
screaming bloody murder. Thankfully, a young goat herder happened to
pass by and hear me, looked curiously down into the pit, and then ran to
town to fetch the church keys. Since then, I've been debating between
conversion and atheism. [More on this story here]
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| Locked inside a stone church. Nothing new. |
I was once offered 20 camels to marry a Bedouin's daughter, out in desert of Wadi
Rum. My father intervened, not to prevent the potential marriage deal,
but to barter and insist that I was worth more.
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| Keep the wife. But give me the 20 camels! |
One of my most embarrassing moments occurred in Venice, Italy,
where I simply had to indulge myself on the Venetian delicacy of black octopus
ink pasta. For a couple days afterward, family and strangers alike silently cringed in horror every time
I smiled.
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| The only photo of me in Venice. All subsequent photos were destroyed. |
I once got stranded in the middle of the Thar desert in Rajasthan. The train heading towards Jaisalmer on the India-Pakistan border seemed to be traveling along just fine when it unexpectedly decided to stop for no apparent reason. Everyone seemed confused and many got off to see what the issue was, leaving their families and luggage sitting idle inside. No sooner had I disembarked, the train suddenly restarted and began chugging back in the direction from which it had come. It was a mess. Everyone tried running after the train in vain, screaming that their belongings, children, and grandmothers were still stuck on board. Thank you for choosing Indian Railways. Namaste.
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| Rajasthani villagers kindly offer us shelter until a jeep could pick us up |
Crashing traditional Polynesian dance lessons on the island of Moorea quickly loses its mischievous sense of thrill when everyone eventually assumes you're just a random kid from the village next door.
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| This roadside dance class witnessed some of my wackiest hip shimmies |
The only time I can recall having ever done a legitimate fist-pump that
attracted attention: I made the mistake of crossing from Romania into
Bulgaria on a Sunday, when everything was closed, and I didn't have a
single Bulgarian Lev to eat, nor get a room, nor purchase a train ticket out. I
panicked and frantically ran all over the virtually empty border town of Ruse, where no banks or currency
exchanges were operating, nor did anyone speak an ounce of English. I finally found a
sketchy ATM. My card was rejected twice. But as they say, "third time's the
charm"!
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| Took my money, grabbed my ticket, and cruised on through Bulgaria |
One of the riskiest travel
decisions/transactions ever made on a
trip: We needed to get a last minute "under-the-table" travel permit
to continue driving from Lhasa to Everest Base Camp, which pretty much
involved finding a
specific tent at a children's festival in a remote town and leaving our
passports plus a cash payoff with a man that everyone in the community dubbed "the leader"
(whom
we never met). This was then followed by driving 90km away to evade local police
before sneaking back into the festival two days later to get our forged documents.You can't make this shit
up. [More on this story here]
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| Tibetan children's festival - the site of some seriously shady networking |
I once cut my finger at an American market. A languid shelf-stocker passively gave me the aisle number for bandages. I once cut my finger at a Burmese market. The place was set in motion as no less than ten merchants began tearing up their stalls, rummaging through their merchandise, and digging through piles of products. They each came up to me, gave a slight bow, and gave me a bunch of free bandages.
I've only had two surprises in my life. The first was a surprise birthday dinner thrown by my Irvine friends. The second was off the coast of Panama with the same group of friends, when a massive humpback whale suddenly surfaced out of nowhere alongside our boat and literally blasted us with blowhole water. I still giggle thinking of how Nature basically "blew its nose" at us. [More on this story here]
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| Burmese markets: the ultimate provider for personalized healthcare |
I've only had two surprises in my life. The first was a surprise birthday dinner thrown by my Irvine friends. The second was off the coast of Panama with the same group of friends, when a massive humpback whale suddenly surfaced out of nowhere alongside our boat and literally blasted us with blowhole water. I still giggle thinking of how Nature basically "blew its nose" at us. [More on this story here]
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| "Captain, there's a strange black island rapidly approaching..." |
I chuckle to myself whenever I read people's trip reports of having "survived" in accommodation without amenities like air-conditioning or hot water. How about spending the night in a room with neither electricity nor plumbing?
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| "Cut it out, Dad, I'm trying to bathe!" |
While stuck in Tashkent International Airport with a literal brick of nonexchangeable, worthless Uzbekistani Som, my desperation to spend as much of the cash as possible resulted in the absurd purchase of two large fruit tarts, a bread pastry, a 2-liter bottle of water, $36 worth of Russian chocolate bars (12 full-size bars in 9 different flavors), and $19 dollars worth of drumsticks (whose lengthy preparation nearly made me miss my flight). After hearing how I hand-carried a giant tub of fried chicken from Uzbekistan to Korea, then on to Los Angeles and San Francisco over the course of two days, a US Immigration officer told me my story was the most ridiculous he'd ever heard in his entire career. [More on this story here]
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| About 20 bucks... who's down for a couple pounds of fried chicken? |
As many will testify, I live through the
lens of my camera, which has gradually grown into an excess appendage.
And like my own life, my very
first digital camera has witnessed its own set of (mis)adventures. My
Panasonic Lumix has (a) been shattered in Mongolia, when my
father collapsed from dizziness after spinning an orphan girl,
(b) bounced down 13 stone steps at a jungle temple in Angkor Wat,
Cambodia, (c) flown 12 feet after a crash involving skis on the slopes
near Lake Tahoe, (d) had grains of sand wedged around its lens after a
massive windstorm in Anza Borrego, and (e) experienced three very wet
and colorful Holi festivals. It still functions.
That awkward moment when you accidentally cross the border illegally into Azerbaijan, get caught by stern Georgian border military, then have to weasel your way out by through a some candid photography... Okay, maybe it wasn't accidental...
You know you're the Akha guest of honor when the tribal chief gives you the prized piece of dog penis at the village feast. Chewiest. Thing. Ever.
That awkward moment when you accidentally cross the border illegally into Azerbaijan, get caught by stern Georgian border military, then have to weasel your way out by through a some candid photography... Okay, maybe it wasn't accidental...
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| It's totally cool, just taking a quick jump into Azerbaijan... |
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| ... oops... |
You know you're the Akha guest of honor when the tribal chief gives you the prized piece of dog penis at the village feast. Chewiest. Thing. Ever.
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| I mean, doesn't everyone love dog dick? |
I once passed by the wrong side of a bee's nest in the Ecuadorian Amazon, and was subsequently attacked and bitten as hundreds of angry insects got caught in my hair and nibbled at my scalp. Imagine running blindly through the thick jungle trying shield your eyes from an angry swarm. The natives found my floundering to be comical.
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| Bees, termites, or ants? Pick your swarm |
I once got busted by religious police in Saudi Arabia for taking photos inside the second holiest mosque in the world. Second most terrifying incident in my life (after the China arrest) and possibly risked detention or deportation... but at least the photos came out great!
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| Is a photo worth ruining a trip over? |