Family Honour + Immigrant Families = ??

Recurring theme on film or horror story on the news?

The story always start off with the Westernised offspring of an immigrant family who wanted to go native and the family, usually conservative, would object. The offspring then not accepting or comply to the family's wishes, rebelled with the best outcome being disowned by the family, or worst, a homocide case for the police.

I've just watched Fighter, a Danish offshoot of the more well known Bend It Like Beckham, about daughters who went against their family's wishes in pursuing their dreams by participating in sporting activities which the family viewed as forbidden because it involved mingling with the opposite sex. Both were warned to be on their best behaviours at community events and not to bring shame to the family, both films ended with slight differences on how the main characters in handling the situation and their male family members.

On films the endings are usually acceptable to the audiences but stories I read on the news don't (maybe that's why they appear on the news in the first place), with headlines usually screamed Honour Killing.

These stories usually involved Westernised daughters of conservative immigrant families in the West taking in a lover, either a local (Caucasian), or someone different ethnic or religious background, defying the family's wish of marrying within the community. Sadly, the family see the act of love as bringing dishonour and shame, causing them to lose face and making them a pariah within their community because they couldn't control their daughters. Things usually don't end favourably for the daughters.

The culprits are usually the male family members and are almost exclusively of South Asian and Middle Eastern background.

I get that this may be the custom and ways of the homeland as it was what the adults were brought up with and have known all their lives.

What I don't understand is why do they choose to move to a land where they can't or refuse to accept the local ways? If they are not open to the thoughts their offspring and descendents adopting the Western life-style, why not migrate to another country with religion, culture and traditions similar to their own?

I am not talking about refugees as they did not choose to leave their land like migrants do. Migrants have a choice.

People migrate for economical reasons and better future opportunities for their children, but it seems that they wanted the best of both worlds: mindset of the old country and better life in the new country. Unfortunately it is always the 1.5 and the second generation who cop the blunt of family's furor - an upstream struggle between the notion of family unit of the old and of individuality that's favourable in the West. Fortunately this mentality usually die with the first few generations and like colour in water, slowly diluting as the water flow, until you don't see it anymore.

Family Honour + Immigrant Families = Daughters' Burden

It is Called "No-frill" for a Reason!

The term no-frills is associated by most as cheap and budget. It is the case when it comes to travel - no-frills, budget or low cost - carriers allows many to see many different parts of the world for the first time, or even being inside an aeroplane for the first time.

These carriers often aggressively market themselves to the general public as you only pay for what you need, in another word, you will pay extra for the privilege in choosing a desired seat, have your luggage check-in, inflight snacks and drinks serve to you, the availability of inflight entertainment; all on top of what is perceived as cheap airfares comparing to full-serviced carriers, like Qantas.

Budget carriers, especially Jetstar, should come with a health warning label to all customers, like warning the user on potential hazard of overdosing, because budget carriers can inflict real health hazard like stress and fatigue when it fails to deliver what it promised - getting you there.

Jetstar has been stellar one fine August morning for the unfortunate passengers of JQ8. Scheduled and prepared to land in Melbourne at 06:45am after an 8 hours flight, it was diverted to Sydney due to fog, the flight expected to return to Melbourne at 11:00am. JQ8 arrived in Sydney at 08:54am, sat on the tarmac with all passengers strapped onto their seats, for 2 hours nothing was convey to them what will happen and if the flight will take off once given the all clear.

Finally the passengers were told to disembark because of some regulations concerning the aircraft, but without further information on when or how they will get to Melbourne. For more than an hour at the hectic international waiting lounge, there weren't any Jetstar ground staff to be found.

The passengers were then told to clear immigration and custom, and were told to wait at the Jetstar check-in counters. At midday meal vouchers were distributed and hope renewed with the announcement of boarding information, accordingly a replacement aircraft will fly the stranded passengers to the correct destination. A few moments later, another announcement told the passengers Jetstar will accommodate them in hotels should a replacement aircraft is not found.

After hanging around as the clock ticked by without further information if the passengers will get to Melbourne on the same day, Jetstar finally announced that they will be boarding at around 15:00pm and passengers were told to proceed to check-in. The flight finally took off an hour later and landed in Melbourne in late afternoon. The total delay is around 8 hours, enough for the aircraft to fly back to Singapore.

Imagine that, all these hassle because of a lousy fog caused by mother natural, but the worst thing from this ordeal is something which humans, in this case Jetstar, can control: the lack of communications, and that is what I called no-frill no thrill.

Riding Escalator in Uzbekistan

Looks like some people need instructions on how to use an escalator!

Julian Assange

Question: How do you cry rape in Sweden?

Answer: Obsessed with the guy, invite him to your bed, sleep with him, buy him breakfast the next morning, pay for his train fare home and then let your girlfriend convince you that you have been raped.

PC kills the Wikileak star.

Bad Rubbish

In Chinese: Please do not litter from above

Interesting warning sign sighted from a visit to a Shenzhen mall earlier this year.

Bird Poop Scam in Sweden

View of Gamla Stan, moments before crime

Yes, it happened to me, on my FIRST DAY in Stockholm!

Shocking as it is since I have travelled to a few dodgy countries (Southern Africa, South East Asia, China, South America) I didn't think I would fall victim to these touristy tricks. But I did.

The scam took place on Söder Mälarstrand on Södermalm the same week as the Swedish Royal Wedding, was walking with a non-local friend when we heard someone behind us making a what sounded like someone throwing up.

We turned and the couple, looking like other tourists, frantically pointed to our backs and then up at the tree, we saw what looks like bird poop on our backs and naturally started to panic a bit. The two helpful tourists quickly pulled out a big bag of wet tissue from a backpack and handed the tissues to us, then proceed to help us wipe our backs.

The tourists spoke to each other in South American accented Spanish and I was so happy to meet some South Americans in Europe, after having such a good time in South America 3 years ago, unfortunately I let my guard down while happily chatting away in my broken Spanish.

I had my handbag facing the front the whole time, thinking I was watching it, but it was when I got home I realised the cash in my wallet is gone. The sneaky female managed to slip her fingers into my handbag and took the cash, fortunately no cards were taken and I didn't have that much cash on me. Still, my confidence was robbed and I developed an uneasy feeling each time I venture to Södermalm.

Oh yeah, the bird poop was probably green mustard.

C is for Chile: Part 6 - Region XV & Region I

A welcoming sign

Previous: Part 5 - World's Highest Everything

My 13 hours bus ride to Iquique in Chile started in La Paz at 7am. The morning felt slow, the streets were quiet without much traffic or pedestrians and the air refreshingly cold, but it was a different scene at the bus terminal. There were already a horde of people inside the terminal when I arrived, most were sitting on the bench wrapped in blankets, some were strolling aimlessly from one bus counter to another.

I also noticed that not everyone had luggage, instead they looked and smelled as if they had spent the night on the bench with the one blanket they possessed, I suspect that the bus terminal also doubled as homeless shelter, hence the activity comparing to downtown.

Chilean Border Post

The journey was smooth on a nicely paved road and a bus with proper heating - hardly a surprise since it was a Chilean bus. The road to Chile took us past isolated farming communities where pet llamas roamed like wild chicken, the bus had to break hard several times so mama llamas and kiddos could cross the road without incident.

Mt Quisiquisini, Lauca National Park

Crossing the border was easy, the Chilean border post is located about 20 minutes from the Bolivian one, smack bang on the edge of Lauca National Park, probably the most beautiful border post I've ever been through. Just before reaching the border post, emerald coloured Lake Chungará with an imposing Mt. Quisiquisini came to view, creating a picture perfect welcome to Chile for me.

Chile has strict quarantine law which means all the luggage aboard the bus must go through x-ray to scan for fruits, meats, dairy products and possibly drugs. I learnt that you can test positive for cocaine if you chewed coca leaf or drank mate de coca (coca tea), I was glad I didn't buy a cup of mate de coca to keep warm while waiting for the bus back in La Paz.

Volcan Chungara, Lauca National Park

Lauca National Park is gorgeous, the highway to the cost snake through the dry and rocky plateaus, with dark green alpine scrubs sprouting all over, and looming at the background, the snow capped Andes cordillera. Its wildlife was plentiful too, I saw bright pink Chilean flamingos frolicking in the lake and group of llama lookalike vicuñas grazing on the pasture along the highway.

As the bus journeyed on from the Altiplano to the arid coastal region, the scenery changed, the colour brown gradually replacing green, and sharp edged mountain terrain became sand dune-like hills. It was fascinating yet I couldn't keep my eyes open, I fell asleep the whole way till we got to the first stop at the town of Arica, bummer!

Playa Bellavista, Iquique

Iquique is a resort town with great surf, is one of the world's best paragliding spot, has a couple of casinos, but the thing that impressed me most was the sight of the ocean. I could spend hours watching the seabirds dancing with the sea while looking for goodies brought in by every incoming wave, listening to the roar of the mighty Pacific Ocean, observing water-prints left by the wave on the beach, watching fishermen throwing their lines into the sea and body-boarders lying on their boards hoping to catch a good wave.

I've missed the sight and the salty smell of the sea while travelling inland.

Playa Brava, Iquique

Apart from the beaches, Iquique has a pretty town square called Baquedano, around the square stood several characteristic Georgian style buildings (see pic), the Casino Español, a mercado central (centre market) and a couple of malls. The Georgian style buildings were erected during the late 19th Century following a nitrate mining boom, nowadays they just sat there looking their age, bringing an old world charm to the town.

Georgian style near the Banquedano

After visiting Bolivia, I got used to the idea on how I could travel around a country without worrying much on budgeting, not anymore! Even though I was warned that Chile is expensive, I didn't think it was that expensive, for example, the exact same Pachamama (Earth Mother) stone statue cost 5 Bolivianos/USD0.80c in La Paz but cost 2,000 Peso/USD4 in Chile. To be fair it is still cheap-ish by Western standard, I stayed at a decent 3 stars hotel for USD50 and enjoyed a very good seafood meal for USD30.

Comparing to Argentina and Bolivia, the banknotes of Chilean Peso are issued in 6 denomination, starting at 500, 1,000, 2,000, 5,000, 10,000 and 20,000, I had to learn new counting words quickly and more importantly, their true monetary value.

Next: Part 7 - Region II

B is for Bolivia: Part 5 - World Highest Everything

Piper posing at Ville de la Luna, La Paz

Previous: Part 4 - Road to Potosi

For once in this trip, I've decided to treat myself by buying a plane ticket from Sucre to La Paz. Sucre, Bolivia's constitutional capital, is the closest airport I can get to from Potosí and to complete this experience, I also hired a taxi to get me to Sucre.

The taxi should take 2 hours instead of 4 in a bus, the ride cost BOB160 (BOB7 = USD1, BOB = Bolivianos) and I was willing to pay that just to avoid the bus. The taxi picked me up at 10am, right on time, and the driver was driving like an F1-nabe but he was steady at the wheels so I felt safe even though the road was winding - the road by the way was paved, hurray!

At our snack stop half way before Sucre, my driver told me, Sucre no es pasa... My Spanish was not good enough to fully understand what he was trying to tell me and for 10 minutes I can only focus on the words I know, Sucre + No... Surely they cant block off the ONLY road from Potosí to Sucre, no government would do that, right?

Not in Bolivia!

Stuck!

The road was indeed blocked off! All because of a motor rally! Unsurprisingly, my petrol-head driver got very excited, he asked me to stay in the car while he ran off to watch the show. Fortunately for me, the rally ended an hour earlier at 3pm, I was able to hold off an extra 3 hours on food and water rationing (so I can avoid the stinky baño publico, public toilets) till we get into Sucre. Later, I learn that road blocks are common in Bolivia, for my remaining time there I always ensure I have enough food and water with me.

The flight to La Paz was delayed for one hour, but it was ok, this is Bolivia. While in the air, the scenery on terra firma was beautiful; I could see isolated Andean communities in the middle of nowhere, on top of a mountain range and the roads leading to these villages are narrow and winding, like a serpent. From a distance, I could also the see biggest salt lake in the world, Salar de Uyuni, it was white as snow but flat as, er, a lake.

La Paz with Mt Illimani at the background

La Paz is a city of 1.5 millions, it lies on a small valley surrounded by rather steep hills. These hills caught my attention because they are covered by countless square dwellings - most are made of brown bricks and it seems that the dwellers didn't bother painting their houses, the dwellings have the same colour as the land, which is fascinating. As a result, the slopes around La Paz appeared square-ish from a distance.

Public transports in downtown La Paz

La Paz is also a city that is full with drivers that like to toot their horns and awful smelling fume puff out of the many public transports sprawling around the city; its streets are very steep, I wonder what do they know when they say the world's steepest street is in Dunedin (New Zealand), I say come to La Paz!

Mercado de las Brujas, La Paz

Part of the city is quite charming, especially the area around Mercado de las Brujas (Witches Market). There, you can see dried up llamas foetuses on sale for a spell, candies for offering to the Pachamama (Earth Mother), and various magic potions which I didn't bother finding out about. The "witches" also sell touristy items such as ceramics, beanies, beads, bright colours weaving, belts, water bottle holders, dolls, bags, hammocks, ponchos, jerseys, and silver jewelries. The Aymara ladies that tend the stores were friendly, they always address me as amiga (friend). Friend... I like it.

Crossing the Estrecho de Tiquina, Lake Titicaca

The bus journey from La Paz to the lakeside town of Copacabana (the one in Rio copied its name) by Lake Titicaca, took 4 hours even though it doesn't look far from a map. At one point, our bus has to go on a barge in order to cross the lake from one side of the road to the other, just to reach Copacabana. We humans have to buy ticket to get across on separate boats. The lake was brilliant blue and the snow caped Andes made a nice backdrop. It is huge, I couldn't see the other end, which lies Perú, from where I stood.

Isla de Sol, Lake Titicaca

The return bus journey left Copacabana at 6pm, the sun set soon after and darkness fell, I could see stars glittering brilliantly in the night sky. The bus ride was freezing cold, they either can't afford heating or don't believe in it. After 4 hours, I was glad to be back in the hotel standing under a hot shower, not to mention a much needed visit to the baño. Now I know why the local ladies always carry a blanket-like wrap with them like a fashion statement!

I've broken my world highest everything record by just visiting Bolivia:

• World highest Capital city - La Paz, 3660m above sea level
• World highest lake - Titicaca, 3800m
• World highest island - Isla del Sol (Sun Island), with a peak of 4076m - The Incas believed this is the birthplace of the sun.
• World highest city - Potosí, 4090m

To give you an idea: Mt Kilimanjaro of Tanzania is 5882m, Mt Kinabalu of Malaysia is 4095m and Aoraki/Mt Cook of New Zealand is 3755m. In a way, I appreciate that I could just jump into a bus to reach these heights without too much of a hassle.

Christopher Colombus statue, La Paz

(Cristoforo Colombo, 12 Ottobre 1492, Navigare necesse est vivere non necesse, it is necessary to sail, it is not necessary to live)

Travelling in Bolivia was a photographer's dream and definitely quite challenging for me - from battling altitude sickness, surviving dust buses, dealing with delays, eating llama tongue (yuck), basically everything that tested my senses and patience, without a doubt it is not a place I will forget in a hurry.

Next: Part 6 - Region XV & Region I

B is for Bolivia: Part 4 - The Road to Potosí

Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain), Potosí

Previous: Part 3 - Salta

My journey to the Argentine border town of La Quiaca began very early in the morning from Salta at 6am. I needed to give myself plenty of travelling time to reach Tupiza so that I wouldn't get stuck at Villazón, the Bolivian border town known for seediness, so an early morning start it was. La Quiaca was a 6 hours bus ride through magnificent mountain views and dusty Amerindian towns, the journey was a joy but when the bus finally stopped, my nightmare begun.

As soon as I arrived, I realised that in order to get to the border post, I had to walk from the bus terminal, which is about 1km. Without proper signage on where the border is, I had to ask, in my crappy Spanish, donde esta Bolivia? (where is Bolivia) and the locals would point to the correct direction. In that fashion, I checked out of my beloved Argentina, on an unimpressive concrete bridge and farewelled by handsome and flirtatious border guards.

Argentine and Bolivian border, view from La Quiaca

I walked into Bolivia feeling the glares of stern faces, two border guards even went through my passport page by page, as if admiring the number of stamps I've accumulated. Fortunately the rumoured fee was not mentioned, my passport was stamped and welcome to Bolivia!

Villazón is a typical border town with many shop outlets, hawkers, and people just hanging around the streets, here I saw many Bolivian ladies in their traditional outfit - bowler hat, big and bulky looking umbrella skirt, thick brown stockings, black platform-less/open toes shoes, and some with colourful aprons. Many ladies also carried their child wrapped in colourful rug looking material that tied around their shoulders. After changing my Pesos into Bolivianos and 2 hours waiting around, I was ready to get on my bus to Tupiza.

El Dusto bus ride from Villazón to Tupiza

The bus ride was a nightmare, and unbeknown to me, Bolivian roads are a nightmare in the south-west, it is gravel all the way! The vehicle I travelled on was old, possibly an ex-Greyhound bus that has seen its heyday in the US back in the 50s, another reminder I had arrived in Bolivia, there is no such thing as Cama or Semi Cama nonsense here.

The locals all scrambled aboard way before the bus starts and have a habit of leaving their luggage or bags on the aisle, they also like to wait patiently by the exit at least 5 minutes before their stops, often leaning against the passengers seated by the exit for balance. I was seated closest to the exit for the first half of the ride...

Bus ticket booth, Tupiza

The bus journey can only be described as dusty - dirt flew into the bus through the open windows from the gravel road, sand coloured adobe villages along the way looked like chalk work, even the sign post showing Evo Cumple (Evo Fulfills) were partially covered in dust.

To add to my discomfort, most locals has an unpleasant body odour, it was especially unpleasant when their behinds were in my face as they bent over to pick up their luggage. At the end of the journey, I was covered in dust, my bags are covered in dust, there was dust in my hair, in my eyes (contact lens wearers be warned), in my ears, in my nose, everywhere! I was totally exhausted from the bumpy ride and was so happy when I finally took a hot shower.

I've also learn an important lesson to never take the seats closest to the exit in a Bolivian bus!

Downtown Tupiza

Tupiza is another dusty Bolivian town with few unimpressive buildings, the most notable historical event was that Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid were gunned down in the nearby mine they were robbing. Most travellers used Tupiza as an overnight pit stop to go on to Uyuni (to see the giant salt lake) or onto Potosí, like myself. The bus ride the next morning from Tupiza to Potosí took 8 hours, 7 were on gravel road. I have never been so dusty and uncomfortable in my life till travelling on a bus in Bolivia, many times I wished I could beam myself to the destination.

Casa de Moneda, Potosí Mint

Potosí is the highest city in the world at 4,090 meters above sea level, it also made walking a challenge when suffering altitude sickness, I felt like I have walked up 5-storeys after just walking about 100 meters. Minerally rich, Potosí was the richest city in the world in the 1600s, but the silver ran out in the 1800s resulting in its decline.

Balcony, Potosí

Today, the once impressive colonial buildings are slowly deteriorating, it was still possible to admire the craftsmanship of centuries long gone walking on its cobble stone alleys. Unfortunately the Bolivian drivers are fond of tooting their horns at every corner, creating a sense of chaos in an otherwise tranquil town.

Up to this point, I've found the people are not as friendly comparing to the Argentinians, perhaps the Amerindian's hook nose and stern eyes doesn't seem as friendly. Instead of the friendly smiles I got so used to in Argentina, I got stared at often in Bolivia, maybe I was as exotic to them as they were to me!

Next: Part 5 - World's Highest Everything

A is for Argentina: Part 3 - Salta

Quebrada del Toro, Salta

Previous: Part 2 - Córdoba

I arrived in Salta in a similar fashion to my arrival in Córdoba, that is, comfortable long distance bus ride which arrives at the destination very early in the morning - this will soon be the ritual of my travel throughout my South American journey.

View of Salta from cable car

Only this time I was very well looked after by the bus attendant with the look of classical Latino film star, whom I think, took a shining to me. The attendant made sure I ate all my food, drank my share of soda, wrapped up adequately in the bus blanket when resting, and he even woke me by gently stroking my cheek for breakfast in the morning. Talk about all round service!

Salar de Olaroz, Jujuy

Quechua ladies

Located in the north-west of Argentina, Salta is closer to the Equator comparing to the rest of the country; position wise it should be warmer but having situated at 1,152 meters above sea level on the foothills of the Andes, its air was freezing cold on the early Winter morning of my arrival.

Like the climate and terrain, the Argentinian faces also changes in Salta. There are more Amerindian population and people are generally darker, but they still attain an air of sophistication and slight snobbishness which I delightedly find in an Argentine.

Adobe house, near San Antonio de Los Cobres

For a day's trip, I visited a little Amerindian town called San Antonio de los Cobres, located at 3,750 meters above sea level and a 3 hours drive from Salta on dusty gravel road. The town used to be an important route for silver from the Bolivian town of Potosí to be transported, using mules, to the Pacific coast of Arica in Chile. With a population of approximately 4,300, its inhabitants now depends on tourism, llama or sheep farming and mining as a mean of livelihood.

Viaduct La Polvorilla

The famous Train to the Clouds ran from Salta to San Antonio de los Cobres, where the world's highest railway bridge is (I think, at 64m, see picture). During my visit, the company that operate the train has gone bankrupt and the tourism authority talked about resurrecting the service again. I didn't see any clouds so I guess the train is not going!

Next: Part 4 - The Road to Potosí