I lay down on a sandy Moroccan carpet somewhere in the emptiness of Erg Chebbi, the part of eastern Morocco that connects to the Sahara Desert. I borrowed a fellow traveler’s phone that had an app which tracked the constellations at my zenith.

“Look, that’s Orion! Can you see the three bright stars over there?” I excitedly told the five other travelers with me.

“Yes, I can see it! How did you know it’s Orion?” one of the ladies asked me.

“I’ve always seen it wherever I go, and I just love astronomy so I’m familiar with the constellations,” I replied.

It was pitch-dark and freezing at the desert camp. Dinner was almost ready, though we had to wait for the other group of 10 or so tourists who were also spending the night at the camp.

I left my group in the meantime because I wanted to immerse myself in the view of the night sky, devoid of any man-made structure, just the stars, constellations, and a huge mound of sand that still blocked the Moon.

The silence and clarity of that moment were completely different from the rush of exploring Moroccan cities some days before.

The start of my Moroccan journey in the Mediterranean port of Tangier was rousing and nerve-racking. After it, the next city that I would visit would be the ancient religious and mercantile capital of Fez, whose famed medina has survived the centuries.

I’m a sucker for sunrise and sunsets, so I set off before dawn and traveled to the ruins of the Merinid Tombs situated on a high hill overlooking the medina. While I was taking photos, an old Berber man magically appeared and tried to sell hats to me. After a few minutes of sales pitch, the old man told me:

“I like your face. You seem to be a warm guy. But you have a lot of problems. Find a way to be happy.”

If that’s his way to convince me to buy his hats, I was not bought. He asked me to take his photo so whenever I get a chance to see it, I would remember our meeting at the tombs during a wintertime sunrise in Fez.

The Berber man poses beside the remaining arched entrance of the Merinid Tombs.

I went down towards the medina, but took the narrow backstreets since the main entrance was some kilometers away from the tomb ruins. Locals ignored my presence and continued the pace of their regular life: tending to their donkeys, preparing bread, pulling carts, and making crafts. I made it out of the labyrinthine residential quarters, just in time to see the town’s marvelous historical sites before the arrival of tour groups. It was at this time that I truly began enjoying every single moment of my Morocco journey — only from Day 4.

From the earthen and warm alleys of Fez, I traveled further south to the cultural city of Marrakesh which I used as a base for exploring more regions of Morocco. My first tour from and back to Marrakesh was on the country’s Atlantic coast, in the airy and laid-back city of Essaouira. The following day I traveled south to the Berber villages situated on the valleys of the Atlas Mountains. The last tour from my Marrakesh base brought me towards the country’s eastern border, starting from the ksar (fortified village) of Ait-Benhaddou and ending with an overnight camping at Erg Chebbi, on the outskirts of Merzouga.

The Al-Attarine Madrasa, built in the 13th century, is one of the many ancient structures that remain in the historical city of Fez

A 17th-century fortification on the seaside of Essaouira. This port city appeared on Game of Thrones as the coastal town of Astapor, where the show lead Daenerys met her Unsullied Army.

A small road stop on the way to Ourika Valley overlooks the Atlas Mountains.

The Ksar (village) of Ait-Benhaddou is one of the many World Heritage Sites in Morocco. This village has been featured in numerous movies and television series.

On those trips, I had met a number of tourists with whom I would have great conversations about life, specifically about living in the moment and taking chances. Gui, a Portuguese traveler who was with me on the Atlas Mountain trip, learned about my then-upcoming pilgrimage and advised me not to proceed simply because “there was nothing to see on the road.” Carmen, a Mexican lady who belonged to the other group of tourists going to the desert camp, felt inspired after hearing about my pilgrimage plan.

I had to ride a camel towards the desert camp. It was pleasurable in the beginning, then became a grueling ride later on as the camel stepped unevenly into the dunes. The landscape, however, was immensely thrilling due to it being the fifth distinct terrain I had experienced in Morocco.

We reached the desert camp just before sunset. The group I was in, composed of two German sisters, an Australian, and a Korean couple, arrived first so we had the chance to select our own tent. Our local Berber guide talked about how Moroccans go on with their daily lives despite their poverty:

“The problem that most rich people have is that they spend their time trying to get richer. We Berbers don’t have that much money, but we’re happy because we use our time to be happy.”

Desert camps like this at Erg Chebbi are a perfect place to stargaze

We spoke more about our own journeys until he left us to help the other guides prepare dinner. Our group strolled across the camp and rested on a small hill on where a couple of sandy Moroccan carpets were laid out.

I laid down on one of them and waited until small pecks of lights slowly punctured the gradually darkening purple sky. I spotted Orion easily, then looked for Sirius, then completely lost my sense of direction until one of the German sisters brandished her smartphone and opened an app that tracks the night sky.

The group of tourists that included Carmela finally arrived, as the guides finished preparing our dinner: a combination of couscous, chicken tagine, and tangerines. We feasted to the tune of Moroccan tribal melodies played by the local guides. Carmela and her Mexican-German friend Mariela came to my table and asked if I would be going back to Merzouga by camel or by jeep. I told them I preferred the camel so I could take more photos of the desert landscape.

Once everyone at the camp dozed off, I sneaked out and spent a couple of minutes looking at the clear sky. The last time I saw such an amazing view was over 15 years ago back home, when I set up a small deck at our rooftop and tracked the major planets using the telescope my dad gifted to me. I was ecstatic but speechless when I ran towards mom to share my pleasure of seeing Jupiter and its four moons, Saturn and its rings, and many other celestial objects. This endeavor would continue once a week until I grew out of it, in part when I moved to the city where lights would often pollute the night sky.

The combined tour groups set off for Merzouga the following dawn, when Venus was still brightly twinkling in the sky. Luckily, I got a different camel with a different saddle, making the return journey more comfortable. From the village, we would embark on an eight-hour drive back to Marrakesh where I would fly to Lisbon two days later.

A “camel train” over an atmospheric sunrise view in the desert.

Photos: Andy Penafuerte III 

It was a familiar sight: clear skies and calm waters, though this time I was looking at the Atlantic Ocean. As the ferry sailed southwestward from Tarifa, whitewashed settlements on the other landmass grew larger by the minute. In thirty minutes’ time, I would set foot on my third continent, Africa.

I’ve ridden many vessels in my exploration of central Philippine islands and northern Greece, and I thought cruising across two continents was one for the books. It seemed novel and fanciful: seeing the breadth of the blue sky while basking under the Atlantic sun. It didn’t happen. In reality, the cruise was less romantic, though that previous expectation was eventually overpowered by my excitement.

The ferry that would bring me to Africa from Europe.

Just the previous day, I was sitting on top of the breakwater, talking to myself about letting go of the heavy emotional baggage I brought from Beijing. And then after a couple of hours, I scrambled to drag my luggage down the ferry while taking a “selfie footie”.

I hope this pavement is a natural part of the African continent. Anyway, it’s customary for me to take footie selfies whenever I arrive at a new country.

Upon exiting the Tanger-Med port, a stretch of whitewashed buildings welcomed us travelers, but it was the local porters and taxi drivers who brought the first tinges of color to the beginning of my Moroccan journey. A backpacker who I met in Tarifa the day before warned me that “Moroccans are pushy,” and that “don’t wander through the Tangier medina at night.” Armed with this survival tip, I brushed off the touts who hollered “Hello! Nihao! Konnichiwa! Chinese? Chinese?’ at me.

I memorized the route from the port to my riad (guesthouse) while on the ferry. I downloaded a digital map on my phone, though I avoided using it because my inner self was on the verge of freaking out. “Konti na lang” (“In a bit” in Filipino), I told myself as the riad was just a kilometer from the port. Never did I realize I would traverse a fish market, then a local cemetery, and claustrophobic alleys to reach my accommodation. All with luggage in tow. All eyes on me. Everyone offering help.

“My friend, are you lost?” a local man asked me.

“No, thank you,” I replied irritably.

“My friend, don’t be afraid,” he said.

If my Asianness has helped me blend in Beijing, it didn’t work in Tangier. For many local touts, I was classified as a walking money bag, made in China or in Japan. Not made in the Philippines.

Sometime after, a group of youngsters coerced me into accepting their help to find my riad because the alleyways were just dizzying. When we arrived there, the boys still asked for money but the guesthouse owner shooed them away.

At last, a respite. It truly was.

But my room looked different from the one advertised on Ctrip. It should be bright and breezy. But in reality, it was just a block with orange-painted walls. Thankfully there was a window and a bed covered with rough Moroccan quilt.

Later in the afternoon, I walked outside to acquaint myself with the medina. The youngsters were still there, this time, playing football on a small downhill square. The alleys transformed into a vivid and busy souk, and the sweet aroma of saffron mixed with the roasted smell of kebabs filled the air. Further downhill, tourists and patrons flocked the fish market street that led to the old town square where the restaurants, banks, and ATMs were.

Frugality is important when traveling, but common sense is way more critical. All the nearby ATMs linked to UnionPay did not work. I couldn’t go to a bank either because I left my passport in my riad. All of that happened since I refused to buy dirhams in Spain because of disappointingly high exchange rates. The result: no dinner on Day 1 in Morocco.

That shouldn’t happen again, I promised myself.

I started Day 2 with a goal of getting dirhams first, then exploring the rest of the old town. With my passport, of course. And an umbrella, because it was overcast.

Tangier’s old town square is still sleepy at 9am. In the afternoon, it is full of locals and vendors.

A couple of steps from the riad, I was greeted by a local who wore a long gray robe with a pointed hood and held a walking stick.

“My friend, why do you have that (pointing to my umbrella),” he curiously asked.

“It’s forecast to rain later this afternoon,” I responded.

“Don’t worry, my friend. It will be a good day,” he said back.

I ignored the old man, mainly because I had to keep my instincts up. After all, my passport’s with me.

Once I succeeded exchanging euros into dirhams, I strolled aimlessly through the medina, watching souk owners wave and hang their colorful carpets and carefully arrange their glistening tagines and pottery. Somewhere uphill, I walked furtively on the streets of the old town’s kasbah (fortress), reaching a viewing deck that marked the beginning of the whitewashed settlements that overlooked the port and the Atlantic Ocean.

Somewhere tucked into the medina are souks with a small courtyard, like this one where travelers can buy local Berber winter clothing.

The owner has just set up his store. When he saw me snapping a photo, he became irritated. “Don’t take photos if you will not buy!”

A fortified part of Tangier’s kasbah (old citadel), which faces the Tanger-Med port

Photos: Andy Penafuerte III 

Someone advised me that when I feel lost, I should travel. But when your mind just doesn’t work, how will you prepare for that journey?

Unlike my previous trip inspired by my encyclopedia reading sessions back home, the premise of my recent spring 2019 holiday was to get a breather. I sank into anxious states of mind that started at the beginning of summer last year and lasted until winter. If they would be considered depressive moods, I don’t (want to) know. What was clear was they were my “China days.”

My mind was in disarray around two months before my vacation, though Lisbon was already in the plan. I ended up booking a flight to Madrid.

What the heck will I do in Spain when I have already been there?  My flight to Madrid, booked. Impulsively.

Fast forward to when I arrived in the Spanish capital in January 2019. It still looked the same as when I had visited it two years ago. I booked my day trips while in Beijing, since it’s easier to pay by WeChat. Beyond that, I planned less and just let things happen, which I’m glad I did.

I joined a tour of the city of Segovia to see its famed Roman aqueduct, then later to the fortified medieval city of Avila, where the acclaimed film Kingdom of Heaven was filmed.

While most visitors would want to see Segovia’s ancient aqueduct on a sunny day, our view was rather cool but no less amazing. The day was overcast and snowy, which added more atmosphere to the gritty and mighty monument.

Just like Segovia’s aqueduct, Avila’s walls are imposing. And within these fortifications lie a number of churches and convents, including those of Saint Teresa of Avila‘s Discalced Carmelite Order, giving the city its moniker, the Town of Stones and Saints.

My next destination was Seville, which I had already visited in 2017. Its location in southern Spain makes it a strategic base for backpackers wanting to see historic cities and natural landscapes in the Andalucian region and then cross borders to Portugal (via bus to Lisbon) or Morocco (via bus to Tarifa, then ferry to Tangier).

Just when I thought I was familiar with the Sevillan settings, I still scrambled to find the way to my hostel upon arrival. Blame it on my over-reliance on technology.

There, however, I found solace in artisanal shops hidden on the dizzying streets full of snacks and souvenirs. I completely avoided the tourist attractions and instead settled for long strolls, and let my thoughts wander along with me. Because even if I was in Spain, my mind was still glued on Beijing and the causes of my anxiety episodes.

Postcards inspired by flamenco posters in the early decades of the 20th century are sold in artisanal shops away from tourist areas in Seville.

A pueblo blanco (whitewashed town) in the town of Zahara de la Sierra, in Cadiz. It was once a Moorish outpost and some ancient fortified structures, including a castle (tower, center-right and slightly hidden in the fog) still stand.

The 98-meter-high Puente Nuevo (“New Bridge” on the right), connects the two halves of the city of Ronda, divided by the Guadalevin River.

A Roman necropolis, discovered in Carmona in the 1880’s, is an important archeological site which gives insights into ancient burial customs in the lands once occupied by the Roman Empire

As the next leg of my trip would be in Morocco, I traveled from Seville to the southern port town of Tarifa. This small town may not be visually rich in Spanish terms but it is geographically significant. Tarifa is continental Europe’s southernmost location and from a vantage point, you can see where the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea meet.

The vast expanse of the water colliding against two continents was a satisfying sight. I spent almost half of the day sitting idly at the top of the breakwater while looking at the sky, sea, and sand. I’ve seen a lot of sunsets, and a view from the Atlantic Ocean would be a fantastic addition to my gallery. My expectation was different from reality, though. The fiery sunset was engulfed by dark clouds.

A panoramic view of Tarifa, taken from the furthest and southernmost point in Europe. The Atlantic Ocean (left), Tarifa beach (center) and the Mediterranean Sea (right).

It was during these solitary moments, however, when it dawned on me that feeling lost was not necessarily a miserable emotion, but a chance to get everything together and continue finding a way. Not many people have the luxury of time or money or traveling while young, but there I was in the middle of Spain, spending my hard-earned resources and taking pleasure in just feeling lost. It’s a costly way to realize it, indeed.

The sound of raindrops overnight put me to a gentle sleep. The following morning was clear and warm, perfect for a one-hour sail southward to Morocco.

Photos: Andy Penafuerte III

On the first day of Spring Festival of 2017, I joined a student-organized trip to Nuanquan, an old village in the neighboring Hebei Province. I thought it was a perfect jaunt, given that I had been wanting to see how locals celebrate this important holiday. The trip was a cheap RMB 320 that afforded me a one-night stay in a decent local hotel, travel insurance, and a ticket to a traditional performance called dashuhua.

Our tour was organized by a local student group. There were about 30 adults, mostly foreign exchange students or scholars studying Chinese. On the bus, I heard some of them were excited to see the village; others asked their partners to take “Instagrammable” photos and Moments-worthy videos.

A good four-hour drive took us to Nuanquan and when we began to alight around noontime, the excitement turned into disappointment. “This place is horrible,” I heard one woman telling her companion, her boyfriend I suppose. The parking lot, overlooking the plain countryside, was simply full of trash.

Our student guide tried to appease the dismayed couple, but even she couldn’t explain why the place was dirty. A few walks toward the town center and more rubbish welcomed us. There were no decent toilets in the area as well. Even the “great” restaurants our guide recommended would pale in comparison to the local dining places in a regular Beijing hutong.

In short, the town was short of luxury many of my fellow travelers were accustomed to in their Beijing bubble. Their frustration soon turned into frequent swearing.

While I was eating with some tourists, the WeChat thread of our tour group swelled with angry messages from several students, with one woman saying (not verbatim):

“Is there a nearby train station here? I want you to bring me there now! I want to go back to Beijing!”

Yes, the town might be unattractive, and the guide might have failed to properly organize the tour, but I always believe that tourists should be prepared for the worst. In this case, their vanity and capriciousness made me livid that I wanted to respond to the group chat. But I realized they were just a nuisance and they shouldn’t affect my travel experience.

Until the evening before the dashuhua performance, all I could hear were complaints from the foreign students. I guess it was only me and a few others who enjoyed the rawness of the countryside. Nuanquan showed me the rural, third-world China that not many bother to see. After all, the town has yet to experience the modernization happening in major cities in the country. Until that, we need to settle for open toilets and outdoor diners.

At the town theater, our tour group had a vantage point to see dashuhua, in which leather-clad performers sprinkle molten iron to mimic a fireworks display. People in ancient times melted cheap iron because they couldn’t afford gunpowder to celebrate the Spring Festival and to ward off evil spirits.

I thought the show was spectacular. But what wowed me the most was most of my fellow travelers looked amazed and happy. No complaints at all. Maybe they were dazzled by the shining display? Maybe the show made them realize that there’s still something amazing left in otherwise a village not suitable for social media posting? Somebody should complain!

Photos: Andy Penafuerte III

Thanks for reading the first part of this Travel Stories article! Now I continue this extraordinary experience with the “travel grandparents” I wish I had!

To Sail

Jinti, Andy, my colleague, and I laughed at the seemingly contrived meet-up (again) on the plane.

I traveled six days via train from Beijing to Moscow with my berth “neighbors” Jinti and Andy, and had a chance encounter with them in the huge city center of Moscow. And now, we’re together on the plane – just seated opposite each other!

The Scottish couple offered to buy us some snacks on the plane since we didn’t have enough cash left. We politely declined (I was terribly shy at that moment) and instead continued to talk to them until the plane took off. Our pairs had been separated on our flight to London but we met again for the last time at the passport security area at Heathrow. There we said goodbyes; but no, there’s another thing…

Back on the train, Jinti and Andy gave us their contacts and on Whiskey Night Four (last night of the journey), the couple invited us to go to their place in Burntisland, just east of Edinburgh in Scotland. I thought it would be out of my way, however, as my itinerary after London were the cities of Belfast and Dublin.

Two weeks after the Trans-Siberian Railway trip, I stayed in London and met with my Filipino friend, Patricia. My colleague, on the other hand, left for Paris and Rome, but would be returning to London for our flight back to Beijing.

While I was exploring London with Patricia, I recalled the invitation from the Scottish couple. So I messaged Jinti and Andy about it, and they said they would wait for us at the train station near to their house.

On the way, Jinti said there was also someone else joining the small shindig she had prepared for us. So when Patricia and I arrived, I was surprised to see one of the Greek guys whom I met on the train: George, who was apparently working in Edinburgh!

The Trans-Siberian Railway team at the Boycotts’ house (from left: Andy, George, Jinti, and me)

Our three-night stay at the house was so memorable. On the second night, the couple showed us a documentary they watched before taking the train: Trans-Siberian Adventure by British actress Joanna Lumley. With legit Scottish whiskey, of course. That film was exhilarating and made me recall our whiskey nights and adventure stories on the train!

The couple also showed us the photo albums of their recent Mediterranean journey with their sons and grandchildren. They told me that they would send me a copy of their 2016 photo album.

The day Patricia and I said goodbye to Jinti and Andy was particularly sad because I had made a strong familial connection with the couple given our extraordinary chance encounter. We still got in touch afterwards, and in one of our exchanges, Jinti surprised me with the digital copy of the photo album in which I was featured! I felt like that I’d been part of their family and memory so it was such a good moment for me.

Come 2017, when I finally finished arranging my travel plans: explore Spain first, then visit historical sites in Greece, then make a pilgrimage to Italy, then finally meet my family in the Philippines. I messaged Jinti if they would be in Greece sometime in October; she said yes, on Corfu island with their boat, Selkie Dancer.

After my trip to Athens, I flew to Corfu and met with Jinti and Andy at a coffee house by the seaside. I couldn’t believe that it had been a year since I first met them on the train – and now we were together again in Greece. We caught up with a lot of stories before going to their boat.

I was very surprised when they asked me where my luggage was. It turned out that they were expecting me to sail with them in the Ionian Sea, just near Greece’s border with Albania. Good thing that I’d booked a cheap hotel. I ultimately scrapped all my travel plans on the island and told them that I would go back to the hotel to get a few clothes and toiletries for the sailing trip!

We met at a lovely rooftop resto overlooking the Ionian Sea.

The two-day two-night sail was easily the highlight of my trip to Greece. I had planned a separate cruise on the Aegean/Mediterranean islands of Aegina, Hydra, and Poros but thought it was short. Instead, I got an opportunity to take a private sailing trip with the Scottish couple and it ended up being truly outstanding.

Andy taught me some of the basics of sailing over a few glasses of whiskey (again!) while Jinti gave me books to read and showed me the hard copy of their photo album. It was so amazing to see my face there! At night, we anchored in a small bay and looked at the clear Greek night sky – and we saw a “shooting star” – it was one of the artificial communications satellites.

The following day I swam in the bay, though I was scared because it was a “deep” 15 feet. Then we sailed near Greece’s border with Albania and talked about Chinese politics and the internet, and then about traveling. They asked me why I wanted to go to Greece; I told them the story of the encyclopedia that inspired me to travel. We shared a Mediterranean lunch while listening to traditional Greek rhythms. Before my last night on the boat ended, we anchored in a marina where Selkie Dancer would stay until the next summer.

Selkie Dancer, where I stayed for two nights.

On the next morning, the couple headed out to town to buy brunch stuff. I sneaked into the boat’s kitchen only to find a calendar where the dates of my stay were listed. I felt truly grateful and privileged that I had become a major part of Jinti and Andy’s travel memories in the past two years, and that easily surpassed all other notable travel stories I’ve had since I began my worldwide adventure.

When they got back, Jinti told me she would be giving a talk in her hometown about their recent travels. “I will call it ‘From Square to Square.’ Well, it’s because we’d been to Tian’anmen Square then to the Red Square,” Jinti said, adding that the title might not be so catchy, but I told her that the story would be really interesting.

“Yes, and you’ll be a big part of the story. Who knew we would meet a young man like you on the train, and then met again randomly in Moscow, then share the same flight back to London? Isn’t it interesting?” Jinti said, and I blushed after hearing that. “And now, you’re with us on Selkie Dancer! We will have you again on our photo album for 2017,” she added.

The couple accompanied me to the bus station, and there we talked about the next leg of my trip to Rome. When I left them, I couldn’t help but shed a tear because I felt they enriched my life, not to mention that my experience with them reinforced the idea that you will meet good people when you travel. I looked at the photos I took of them during our sailing trip and realized I forgot something.

“Hey Jinti, thank you so much for the wonderful experience! You’ve enriched my life a lot. Too bad I forgot to take a video of us together. But I will see you both again,” my WhatsApp message to them read.

“Yes!! Hope you enjoy today,” Jinti replied.

Photos: Andy Penafuerte III

First of all, happy New Year everyone! Thanks for all your sweet comments on my recent Travel Stories blog.

Let me start this year’s series with what I feel the most memorable travel story I’ve had so far.

==

From Rail

I had never heard of the Trans-Siberian Railway until early 2016, when a former colleague told me he was planning to take the ride. He invited me and I said yes, despite me being a new Beijinger that time (I’d been in the city for barely a month!).

So many things had happened in the ten months leading up to the trip, making me exhausted but really looking forward to the train journey. Perhaps one fruitful task that I undertook was learning the Russian alphabet. I have a certain affinity with languages and my sharp pictographic memory helped me memorize the foreign alphabet in less than 3 hours. Yes, I can read simple Russian words (albeit slowly), but I guess it will take me some time to understand and speak the language.

In the office, I made sure that only a few people knew that I would be traveling. One of them was my supervisor, Laurie, who promised me a “care package” full of assorted cookies she made or bought at a local supermarket.

The soft-sleeper cabin looks old-fashioned. But it’s where great stories usually happen!

The day of my Trans-Siberian Railway journey had arrived. It was extra-special as our trip was just in time for the centenary of the whole line. Though our berth looked old but classy, it was more than enough to help me leave the grayness of Beijing. A few minutes from the southeastern end of the line turned into an hour, and still I was in Beijing, though that suburb had fewer skyscrapers. Then a couple of hours after, we were already traversing rural China: limestone mountains and gray asphalt roads and vast fields and towering telecom pylons — all illuminated by the autumn sun.

My colleague and I went to the Chinese canteen carriage to eat lunch and (we hoped) mingle with other passengers, but the latter didn’t happen because we were so drawn by the vastness of the countryside. Back at our berth, we noticed that our Western-looking “neighbors” were gazing at the train window, all of them awestruck by the change a few hours could make in the Chinese vista.

On the left of our berth was an old couple; next to them was a trio of young guys. We let the night pass without talking to them, however. Never had I been so tired before that trip: earlier in the day I’d been carrying a big backpack and an IKEA bag full of foodstuffs; towards the night our music was the train’s choo-choo.

The following morning was spectacular as the sun rose over the desolate Gobi Desert. When I went out of our berth to get hot water, I saw the old couple chit-chatting with the trio and overheard their conversation: the young guys were from Athens and they were traveling with a tour group bound for Ulaanbataar. The lady was so friendly that she waved hello to me. “Oh good morning, what a wonderful sight it is,” she said, while her partner was looking out of the window.

I joined their conversation, though I was still in my morning trance. “I’m Andy, by the way. I’m from the Philippines,” I told them.

“I’m Jinti and this is my husband Andy.”

“Ha! What a good name,” I joked. But truly I was unsure if I pronounced the lady’s name right.

“We’re from Scotland,” Jinti said. Then we continued our chat until the train arrived at Ulaanbaatar, where they replenished their provisions and the Greek guys alighted. Meanwhile, I was trying to look for a travel adaptor because I was brave enough to bring only Chinese plugs to power up. But no, my power banks almost got depleted on Day One alone.

Back on the train, my colleague and I and the Scottish couple talked about what had motivated us to take the trip. My colleague shared that he had been planning to do it, and his posting in Beijing made it possible. Jinti and Andy said they were on a vacation that had started in Australia a couple of months back. Their China trip was the penultimate part of their vacation, which would end in Moscow via the Trans-Siberian Railway.

I told them I had a fair share of misfortunes prior to the trip: I lost RMB 1,000 when we bought our train tickets, and the release of my London visa got delayed. They, too, had a hard time getting the required documents and tickets. Well, we all boarded the train anyway.

Since I had a cornucopia of foodstuffs, I shared the cookies made by my supervisor with the Scots. In return, they invited us for a night of whiskey at their berth. There they told us more about themselves: Andy was a Royal Air Force (RAF) pilot and Jinti a teacher of Nia dance. They have three sons, all working for the British army. In Beijing, the couple stayed in a hutong house, which they found interesting and very Chinese. Jinti also joined a dance class on the Great Wall. My colleague and I told them we’re Filipino journalists that got an opportunity to work in China.

The night on the train was long but we were just getting started. As a history geek, I enjoyed listening to Andy’s RAF experience and knowledge of warfare. Jinti and I both have a love of languages and humanities. In fact, she, too, had studied the Russian alphabet a couple of days before. They also showed us their recent trip to Greece and Italy via their boat, the Selkie Dancer. Both countries were my dream destinations because of their rich ancient history. I’ve always been fascinated by their cultures ever since I encountered them in my encyclopedia back home.

Our whiskey night when we ate and shared stories. (Clockwise from left: Andy Wight-Boycott, his wife Jinti, my colleague Raymond, and me)

Probably not the best picture but on the train we got the most awesome views of sun up and sundown.

Our stories continued day and night until Day Six on the train, the morning before we arrived at the western terminus of the line. There, Andy asked us what our next travel plans were. My colleague and I said we would stay in Moscow for two nights and explore the city center. Thereafter, we would fly to London via Brussels. The couple was visibly shocked because they, too, had the same itinerary. We parted ways at Yaroslavskaya railway station just after we bought our subway tickets.

We had endured six days of train travel and I couldn’t be happier that we were in Moscow. After we settled in our hotel, my colleague and I explored the city, which was freezing then considering it was early autumn. From the Red Square to Saint Basil’s Cathedral, everything in Moscow looked surreal and mysterious and exciting for me.

At the western terminus of the Trans-Siberian Railway with Malaysian couple Lee and Lam (second from left), Jinti and Andy Wight-Boycott, and my colleague Raymond.

On the second night when I was aimlessly wandering around the city, I saw familiar faces. Yes, I saw Jinti and Andy again! All of us were surprised, given the city center is undeniably huge – probably ten times the size of the Forbidden City. They asked how we were doing, and I told them I was enjoying Moscow. We took a selfie and sent that to my colleague.

“What a coincidence,” I thought. But that wasn’t the end of it.

The following morning was our flight to Brussels. For some reason, I didn’t see the couple at the airport though we knew they were going to Brussels too. No worries, I told myself. I had made good memories with them, enjoyed their stories, and planned to message them once we arrived in Brussels. I was ready in my seat, then familiar faces once more entered my vision. Yes, the lovely couple, whom I was with for the entire train trip and had a chance encounter with in the vastness of Moscow city center, was now on the same flight as ours. Not only that, they were seated just opposite us!

The impromptu Moscow selfie!

==

It’s not yet the end of this amazing experience! Watch out for the second part of this Travel Stories article, because I’ll share what happened after the meet-up on the plane.

Writer’s note: Jinti has also given a talk in her native Scotland about this experience. She held the talk “From Square to Square” in late November 2017. At the time of writing, I was contacting her to get pictures or videos (if any) from her talk.

Photos: Andy Penafuerte III

It’s been a restless 2017 for our team in terms of traveling. In my case, I embarked on a year-long trip across China and Europe, but I also made surprising discoveries and met a lot of awesome people. My colleagues, on the other hand, gave their thoughts and experiences about amazing (and sometimes funny) family-friendly areas in the city and nearby provinces.

When I continued the Beijing Bucket List series, I was thinking of using my free weekends to explore the city and make recommendations for families and young adults. Now, the travel section on our website has grown to have several series: China (and Beijing) Bucket List, Family Day Out, Weekend Warrior, Travel Stories, and Subway Sunday, all reflecting the vibrancy of Beijing expat life.

It’s not too late for you and family to explore the capital. Here we list our best travel blogs to help you get started in planning (note that some of them are seasonal or already finished). After all, you have 365 days to explore this beautiful city and China and the world! If you find other wonderful family-friendly spots in town, or any stories about family travel, we welcome you to write about them and be featured in any of our travel series!

January 2017

Beijing: Icefall at Taoyuan Xiangu and Huanghuacheng Great Wall (both in Miyun District)

If the cold never bothers you (anyway), then have some frozen delights at the iced waterfall attraction in Taoyuan Xiangu scenic area (桃源仙谷冰瀑) in Miyun District (first picture below).

And for those who have already gone to the more “touristy” Great Wall sections like Mutianyu and Badaling, the Huanghuacheng (lake-side part) of the wall is an amazing sight without the usual crowds.

February 2017

Hebei Province: The Molten Iron Performance at Nuanquan (Hot Spring Town) in Zhangjiakou

Shining, shimmering, splendid. That’s probably the best way to describe a bright spectacle, akin to a fireworks display, that happens in the ancient town of Nuanquan in Zhangjiakou City (河北省张家口蔚县暖泉镇), just west of Beijing.

Heilongjiang Province: A Winter Weekend in Harbin

Winter was coming to an end when my colleague Annie Wang went to Harbin in February. So instead of the -30 degrees Celsius that they had expected, the temperature stood at a “cool” -12 degrees Celsius, still low enough to freeze toes and tears without the proper attire!

March 2017

Beijing: A Trip to the Great Wall with Mister Dong

My colleague Pauline’s wish for my birthday was to visit the Great Wall of China. When she asked around in  WeChat groups, that one name that always popped up is Tom Dong, who seemed to be taking lots of people up to the wall.

Beijing: In Search of Buried Treasure at the Ming Tombs

The Killeens decided to round out our tour of Beijing’s imperial heritage, with a trip to the Ming Tombs, where they opted for hiring a bus with a group, which was a great thing… especially because the tomb site was huge!

April 2017

Beijing: The Killeens View More Colors of Chinese Art at the National Art Museum of China

The Killeen’s previous family samplings of Beijing’s artistic offerings have been in the hip and funky/commercialized tourist areas of 798 and Caochangdi. So Dad Andy wondered how his kids would respond to the more formal setting of the National Art Museum of China (NAMOC)…

Shandong Province: The Story of the “Eight Immortals” on Long Island

This was the second entry in my month-long A to Z Challenge, in which I blogged 30 travel articles in April. It was also my first trip to Shandong Province. While on the way to Miaodao village, or technically one of the islands that compose the county, our tour manager shared with us a folk story that happened there over a thousand years ago…

May 2017

Beijing: His Sweet and Classy Surprise Staycation at Nuo Hotel

Former managing editor Vanessa blogged about the surprise staycation from her husband, Bobby. After their date, Bobby brought her to a mystery location, which was later revealed as one of the restaurants at Nuo Hotel.

Beijing: Biking, a Ride or Die Experience

Pauline’s Beijing escapades continued with her story about bikes. “I have stopped holding on to my heart because there is really nothing we can do, but smile, and enjoy the wild ride Beijing is taking us on,” she said of the wild ride on the city streets.

June 2017

Beijing: Liyuan Library, Experiencing Beijing’s Most Instagrammable Reading Haven

Managing editor Kipp went to Huairou district to get a feel of the wonderful library that is Liyuan for our Weekend Warrior column in the magazine. It was good while it lasted — because the library was shut down by the authorities in September, following complaints about pirated and uncensored material. We’re not sure if this is a permanent thing as recent reports have stated otherwise, but it still a great day trip during the spring months.

Beijing: Futuristic Lights Extravaganza on Display in 798 Art District

A part of 798 Art District shimmered when a foreign company brought its light exhibition. But the feat of this extravaganza was that it challenged the imagination and perception of reality of the visitors. Many of my WeChat friends, in fact, used the pictures they took at the exhibition as their profile photos!

July 2017

Beijing: Camping on the Great Wall

One of my first Beijing bucket list items that I ticked off was a visit to the Great Wall. Now that I’ve visited three sections of the wall in Beijing (Badaling, Mutianyu, and Huanghuacheng), that bucket list became expanded with another thing about the Great Wall: camping.

Beijing: Family-Friendly Staycation at EAST Hotel

After a long two weeks of a husband working non-stop, Pauline thought to find out if the rest of EAST Hotel was as child-friendly as the weekend brunch. True enough, she felt at home in the hotel situated in Lido, which she likened to as the new Sanlitun.

August 2017

Jiangsu Province: Zhouzhuang: Around a Water Town

The Killeens went south to Zhouzhuang, one of the oldest of the “water towns” which lie between Shanghai and Suzhou. Like Venice, a network of canals criss-crosses this ancient settlement, and flat-bottomed punts with a remarkable similarity to gondolas still throng the waterways – although these days it’s almost entirely for the benefit of tourists.

Beijing: The “Joyous” Pavilion on a Breeding Ground for Mosquitoes near Taoranting Subway Station

In one of my Subway Sunday articles, I went to a station named after a park that used to be the breeding ground for mosquitoes. Okay, so why on earth would we go to such place? It may not be as majestic as other imperial palaces in Beijing, but the park gives you a sense of what a “downgraded” Summer Palace is.

September 2017

Tianjin: The City that Is Overlooking the World

Pauline and her family went to neighboring Tianjin, where she recounted experiencing everything the city had to offer. They boarded the Tianjin Eye, China’s “answer” to the London Eye. Pauline said she never rode the expensive London Ferris wheel so she took the chance to sit on its Chinese counterpart.

Beijing: Applying for a Russian Visa in Beijing? You Really Need to Read This

Andy (not me, but our senior editor) had had a fair share of a visa nightmare when he applied for one at the Russian visa center. To help others planning to go to Russia, he wrote this article detailing what went wrong and what to do next.

October 2017

Beijing: Best Picks for Family-friendly Camping Grounds

Our blogger Rebecca shared with us one of the things that she love most about living in Beijing: the opportunity to take her young family camping. She rounded up her favorites — a mere 1.5 to 2 hours drive from the city center.

Beijing: Four Fun Family-Friendly Farms to Pick Seasonal Autumn Fruit

Our resident Weekend Warrior Kipp recalled his childhood memories of long car rides that featured roadside attractions: fruit vendors and farms. This feel can be recreated in Beijing, thankfully, in an autumn weekend trip to the city outskirts.

November 2017

Philippines: The Encyclopedia that Inspired Me to See the World

After four weeks of loitering in Europe, I went back to my home country and revisited the source of my travel escapades: the encyclopedia set that my mother brought when I was young. That 10-volume set of encyclopedias basically widened my view of the world.

Athens, Greece: When Black Cats “Ruined” My Trips in Athens

I had a lot of remarkable experiences on my trip to Greece, but there was this certain part that made it more interesting: that black cats had been present before an untoward incident. But are these felines to be blamed whenever bad things happen to us? Ancient beliefs may have an answer to that…

December 2017

Beijing: Finding Ultimate Relaxation at the Perimeter of the City

Beijing’s winters are nothing to scoff at. In this magazine article, our resident Weekend Warrior Kipp rounded up several options for weekend trips and staycations within the city proper or a relatively short train or car ride away.

Toledo, Spain: Finding Your Power Source

My experience with fellow family travelers outshone every bit of outstanding feat the medieval city of Toledo had to offer to me when I visited there. I recounted the incident when I shared my power source with the wrong people.

Photos: Kipp Whittaker, Andy Penafuerte, Andrew Killeen, Pauline van Hasselt; courtesy of EAST Hotel, Vanessa Jencks, Annie Wang, Rebecca Archer, Commune, visitmysmokies.com

Many of my friends have asked me who always takes my pictures when I travel.

“Me.”

“But how?” they amusingly ask.

“I have a selfie tripod.”

===

My travel arsenal consists of a selfie tripod with a Bluetooth clicker, a couple of power banks, phone cords, a bottle of water, a first aid kit, and of course my smartphone. With them, I can do my trips smoothly and take snapshots of vistas and landmarks. So for my friends, they find it weird that my candid shots are always on point. Other friends simply can’t believe I can take those shots myself, and accuse me of traveling with someone else. But no, I travel with something: the selfie tripod.

But before the selfie tripod became my much-prized possession, I thought it was a quirk of self-absorbed and narcissistic travelers. I remember when I first visited the Summer Palace, I saw a couple who were taking pictures of themselves in the middle of a busy bridge using a small tripod. Other people were amused; I thought it’s genius… not them blocking the road but their way of taking pictures. So I took a photo of their tripod and on the following day, I Taobao’ed that thing and boom, I got mine in two days.

===

The first leg of my trip to Europe was in Madrid because I felt the urge to “find” my mestizo roots. Beyond that, I want to learn more about Spanish history so I went to the touristy Royal Palace of Madrid. Having been accustomed to local tourists in China (well, you know how they behave, right?), I set up my selfie tripod and took some nice shots of the palace. (A pro tip: using a selfie stick can extend your reach and stabilize the phone). But I got some awkward looks from a lot of tourists. I didn’t care that much, though.

Several days after, I went to Seville to catch my first ever hot air balloon ride. At the rendezvous, I met our balloon pilot and my co-passengers: three couples and a family of three, all of whom were asking why I was alone on my trip. While we were inflating the balloon, I told some of my co-passengers that my friends who were supposed to join me canceled at the last minute. One of the tourists, a Portuguese lady named Ilda, gladly offered to take my photos. With the biggest grin ever, I brandished my selfie tripod.

“Wow, where did you buy that?” Diego, her Spanish partner, asked.

“In China,” I said, smiling and proud, “It’s so cheap there!” Then I told them to say, “Cheese!”

“How do you take that pic?”

“Here, I use a Bluetooth clicker!” I replied. If you were there, you would have seen me looking so giddy like a boy who got a packet of sweets. Later on, I took videos of us from a vantage point outside of the balloon.

Ha! I was shaking during that time!

Ilda noticed that I was silent all throughout the flight. Well, I was busy looking at – not my phone – the details of the landscape from 300 feet above… though the wide sunflower and olive fields below were barren because it was past the harvest season.

“Using a selfie stick makes people more introverted,” she said, “I don’t know why people like to use it.”

For some reason, her comment struck me. I remember the time when selfie sticks overtook Manila millennials and I thought it was funny. When I saw the couple at the Summer Palace, I thought selfie sticks would make taking pictures easier. So her comment offered me the opposite view from my smartphone screen.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time that I heard people saying that about selfie sticks. Many museums, sacred sites, and other historical areas around the world have banned the use of these rods, for a number of reasons: they disrupt views, double as a blunt weapon, or simply are considered a nuisance. A lot of times I was warned by security guards not to use my selfie stick when entering tourist sites; upon entering I saw others using it.

“I think when you’ve got this kind of thing when you travel, you don’t talk to others anymore,” Ilda added, “So how will you meet people and make friends if you’re always using your stick?”

Yes, she’s got a point. Almost every time I travel, I see couples wielding a selfie stick. And it’s as if they own the place, especially when they pose to get the perfect angle. Who needs help from others if you’ve got a stick to help you take a quick snapshot of everything, right?

What was my response to Ilda, you might ask? I remember telling her that I use the rod to extend my reach and minimize shaking when taking pictures. And I said there are times that I am shy posing in front of others. She laughed and seemingly accepted my explanation.

===

In my trips around Beijing and nearby provinces, my selfie tripod is usually the center of attraction. Okay, not the tripod per se but my fake poses as if I’m walking or looking at something. I often leave the tripod standing around two meters away from me, so people are always amazed. Once I finish, I act like nothing has happened… then people start reaching out to me, asking where I bought the tripod.

“Taobao…” I always say, smiling. “…For only 80 kuai.”

Some ask me for the Taobao link; others are interested to see the pictures I’ve taken using the rod. Then instead of going away, many of them walk with me during the rest of my trips. Then we exchange travel stories. In fact, I’ve made many WeChat connections… simply because of my introverted selfie tripod.

===

Then came the time when we descended and finally deflated the hot-air balloon. It was the golden hour at 8am, and the sun was shining perfectly over the dry sunflower field. Our pilot released the camera from the balloon and started to take pictures of the whole crew.

I got an idea.

“Hey, everyone,” I said, “Let’s take a group shot!”

“But how?” one of the Portuguese asked me.

I brandished my selfie stick…

The Seville hot-air balloon crew… and this pic was taken using my ever-reliable selfie tripod! (The third man from the right is the pilot.)

…took that photo … and made more friends in Spain!

Photos: Max Pixel, Wikimedia Commons, Foundry, Andy Penafuerte; courtesy of Gloobo

I think millennials always have two major problems when traveling: staying connected and finding a power source. I believe the latter is more difficult because nowadays, many young people will effectively be incapacitated when their mobile devices lose power. So petty but true.

It happened to me last year en route to Moscow via the Trans-Siberian Railway. I brought two power banks: the slim one with 1,500 mAh (milliampere-hour), which in today’s terms would only charge 25 percent of the iPhone 7 Plus; and the bulky 5,000-mAh one. I felt confident then that I would survive the six-day train travel. Yes, I survived, but my power banks didn’t. I forgot to bring a universal travel adaptor. And even if I did, the power outlets on the train could only supply limited electricity.

That’s a lesson learned that I utilized on my Europe trip this year. Aside from bringing my two ever-handy power banks, I had an extra brand-new one with 5,000 mAh; a universal travel adaptor; a power extension cord; and lots of phone cables. I felt confident again that I’d be fully energized on my trip.

Sure enough, I had so much power in my hands that I wanted to share it with other people who forgot their power banks and travel adaptors… like this Colombian family I met during my trip to Toledo in Spain. The Colombian Dad, who was seated beside me at our tour group’s lunch table, was having a problem because their luggage got left behind the airport. He told me he put most of their power sources and cords in their check-in baggage and the power bank they brought had no charge left. They needed to call the airport security to get their baggage delivered to their hotel in Madrid.

I felt sorry for them. I understood their frustration, especially when the Colombian Mom said she wanted to tell her family back home that they landed safely in Spain. Of course, there was a telephone at the restaurant but they might be charged an exorbitant fee for a five-minute call. On Facebook or WhatsApp, it would be free. But they didn’t have any battery left.

So after a pep talk to their smart 10-year-old-something son, I offered the Colombian Dad my power banks, iPhone cord, and my one-and-only travel adaptor in the condition that they would return the items on the bus. They agreed. Problem solved. Everybody was happy.

We had two hours to explore the huge medieval city of Toledo. My initial plan was to go to the palace, but it was 30 minutes away from the restaurant on foot so I just wandered around. I discovered some good finds: an amazing sword workshop, and a souvenir shop that sold crusader figurines and medieval jewelry. I was happy not only because the city satisfied my craving for medieval history, but I had helped a family in need, and that strengthened my thoughts on why helping can empower a lot of people.

The picturesque medieval city of Toledo, from a vantage point on a nearby hill.

Medieval Templar figurines for EUR 8 apiece!

Back on the bus, I checked my phone to see the photos I’d taken of the medieval figurines and to post them on my Instagram account. The Colombian family boarded the bus a little late. Mom brought her son to the window seat beside the Dad. They were seated in the opposite row, while Mom sat at their back. No mention of the things I lent them. Something’s not right.

Almost 30 minutes had passed and Dad kept silent. I politely asked him for the stuff and he got panicky. First, he returned my power banks. Okay, done.

“And my iPhone cord?” Dad gave me a broken cord. “Oh, this is not my cord. Mine’s not broken.” Mom opened her bag and gave back my cord. Awkward.

“And my travel adaptor?” Dad started to hyperventilate. “Oh my god, I think they [the restaurant staff]didn’t give the adaptor back!” A complete moment of awkwardness.

“How much is your adaptor? I’ll just pay you,” Dad said loudly, while the Son was looking at us. I was surprised and frowned. He insisted that he would pay even more than the original cost of the adaptor. Actually, I was thinking where I could get a replacement – and not because they seemingly lost my item.

Our tour guide tried to calm the Dad down. I was just speechless and thinking about my next move. After all the commotion, Mom talked to the Dad in Spanish. Then the lost power adaptor magically appeared in the pouch of Dad’s bag. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought they didn’t give it back to me! I’m really sorry!”

Yes, the Dad was terribly sorry. He must be, because he lied in front of his child! But I didn’t say a thing. I just smiled and told them at least they were able to contact the airport security to get their luggage back.

Just when I thought that I felt empowered to help someone, I realized I gave it to the wrong people. How could a father blatantly lie in front of his child? I don’t like to sound judgmental, but I can’t help but feel sorry for their family. Okay, I don’t know what their background is, but that kind of attitude is what keeps travelers from helping others in need.

The full trip back to Madrid was really awkward because the family was just seated opposite me. When we alighted from the bus, Dad said he was sorry while Mom couldn’t look at me straight. I just smiled and wished them a safe journey to their next destination.

On my way back to the hostel, I contemplated the incident and realized the hassle it would bring had I really lost my adaptor and other power sources. Aside from this incident, my remaining days in Spain went eventful till I arrived at Athens… when I encountered black cats and eventually lost my power banks.

Power Up on Your Travel

Phone Power Bank (手机充电宝, shǒujī chōngdiàn bǎo)
Where to buy: Bainaohui Electronics Market (百脑汇电脑商场), 10 Chaoyangmen Waidajie
Price: RMB 60-200
A 10,000 mAh power pack may look like you’re holding another phone though! But there’s a lot of smaller and thinner ones in the market.

Miniso Power Packs
Where to buy: Miniso branches everywhere!
Price: From RMB 89
The ubiquitous faux-Japanese store has an incredible collection of cheap power packs, if buying on Taobao or JD.com seems too complicated for you.

Waterproof Solar Power Bank
Where to buy: Taobao
Price: From RMB 98
When you’re in the middle of nowhere and your regular power bank dries up, don’t worry because this solar power bank will save the day!

Power Bank Organizer
Where to buy: Taobao
Price: From RMB 29
Not only you can store your Hello Kitty power bank here but also those snaky cords. Hey, it’s so big that it can double as your beauty pouch too.

Universal Travel Adaptor
Where to buy: Taobao
Price: From RMB 78
You got the perfect power bank but you don’t have the right plug to charge it. So having a universal travel adaptor is a must. You will love having this and feel so ready to go anywhere fully charged!

Photos: Andy Penafuerte; Taobao, Easyacc.com