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travellarge

~ After two years of turmoil, a homeschooling family embarks on a big adventure

travellarge

Tag Archives: Beach

Beach Bums

01 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by travellarge in Accommodation, Adventure, Beach, Budget travel, Dining, Education, Experiential Travel, Family, greece, Hands-on Learning, Homeschool, Humour, Travel, Unschooling

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Beach, Greece, Leptokarya

In which SWMBO lays low in Greece to avoid drawing the gods’ attention.

Lastborn buries herself in the sand, Leptokarya

Lastborn buries herself in the sand, Leptokarya

Here’s how it’s going to go down in Greece:

  • We’ll stay put at the same place for two weeks
  • We’ll beach and barbecue and bake in the sun
  • We’ll live sans wifi
  • We’ll play checkers and rummy and uno
  • We’ll head to the occasional taverna for stuffed vegetables, tzatziki and fried calamari
  • Then we’ll get the hell back out of the Schengen

That means, no Athens, no archeological sites, no Santorini, no Corfu, no islands at all, no Meteora, no Sparta, no Olympia. Shocking, I know, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. The homeschooler in me justifies it in this way: our curriculum this year focuses on Macedonian history, both within the Republic of Macedonia/FYROM and in northern Greece. We will therefore concentrate on archeological sites and museums there. This learning module will be split in two with a rest period in the middle to allow the content to seep more deeply into the conscious. Or some such nonsense. You know what, though? It’s not non-sensical, when you stop to think about it.

Back to our place: a nice house being rented for the first time. The owners are kind and we have everything here we need: air conditioning, large garden, barbecue, washing machine, breezy balcony, two bedrooms, parking, hot water, peace, quiet, safety, goats, view of Mount Olympus. The beautiful beach is an easy 500 metre walk away.

Beach in front of hotel, Leptokarya

Beach in front of hotel, Leptokarya

We are in Leptokarya, a small town on the eastern coast of mainland Greece about 100 kilometres south of Thessaloniki. As Venice explained in a previous post, we arrived a day early in high season and spent hours driving around trying to find a place to stay for one night. During that epic day, we saw every little village along this section of coast before giving up and driving inland to a larger town.

What I am trying to say in a roundabout way is that on that day we saw Leptokarya and it looked like hell on earth (or heaven depending on your age and tolerance for high alcohol/low sleep). The main street was a sea of rowdy twenty year olds, the parking was chaos, the beach appeared to be gravel and the band was loud. We were one day away from taking over an un-reviewed new accommodation listing right here. I secretly started to worry.

The worry was understandable but unfounded. Our house is great and situated outside of Leptokarya itself. We arrived three hours before the agreed upon time so of course, the owner wasn’t in, but his son was and suggested we head to the hotel down the road so the kids could swim in the pool. It sounded fishy to us.

Pool at "our" hotel

Pool at “our” hotel

We headed that way and found a beautiful beach in front of the hotel so we enjoyed that before heading back to get the keys to our place. We asked the owner where to swim and he told us to go to the hotel. He also told us to use the pool there. He conferred with his wife and then pronounced, “It has been confirmed, you can use the pool at the hotel for free.”

To be honest, we are not sure what to think. The hotel is remote and the only things around it are a handful of privately owned beach houses that seem to be used mainly on the weekends by owners in Athens and Thessaloniki. Maybe local people are permitted to use the hotel facilities?  The pool is always full of Greek people with no bands having fun.

Beach Bar, Leptokarya

Beach Bar, Leptokarya

The hotel is undoubtedly a boon to us. It is large, with hundreds of rooms and villas. Most people are wearing yellow bands, branding them as all-inclusive guests. Banded kids hover around the slush machine while banded adults roam the chaffing dishes of the buffet, picking and piling. But there are also a lot of people without bands.

We’re surprised to find that there doesn’t seem to be any discrimination against unbanded, (presumably non-hotel) guests. No one bothers the people who set up blankets on the hotel grass in the shade of the palm trees. The star belly sneetches don’t sneer at the sneetches without. No need for a star-on nor a star-off machine. Whew.

A Church with a View, Leptokarya

Church with a view, Leptokarya

Beautiful paintings and icons in beach chapel.

Beautiful paintings and icons in beach chapel.

Frankly, we are looking for ways to support this venture, but I tell you, it isn’t easy. The wifi is free and unlocked. There is ample parking, right beside the beach and yup, you guessed it, it’s free. No cost to use the beach or pool. Free washrooms (clean). If you feel any need for some prayer, you will find a little beach-side chapel in the running for cutest ever. Free.

The beach on either side of the hotel is gross construction gravel. In front of the hotel, sand. There is no shade on the beach but a wide section in front of the hotel has palapas and chaises lounges. It costs 6 euros to rent a palapa and two chaise lounges for as long as you want. We are SO up for that but we never get to the beach early enough to nab one of them so we are forced to seek shade slightly inland for free instead.

Beach turns from gravel to sand.  Personally, I prefer sand!

Beach turns from gravel to sand. Personally, I prefer sand!

Once you enter the water, there are large pebbles to trip you and hurt the bottoms of your feet. Next comes a thin band of deep water you have to swim across. Then, you hit pay dirt with a beautiful, shallow sandbar. The water is so warm, you walk right in. Lovely. You can spend all day there, in the waist deep water, frolicking and admiring the cute church.

From what I can see, the only way to give this fabulous hotel some moolah is to either book a massage on the beach or eat and drink. Fahbio and I have been ordering frappés as frequently as we can but I normally only drink one coffee a day. A frappé, BTW, is short for Nescafé frappe: instant coffee served iced with milk and a big spoonful of white sugar. It’s so much more delicious than it sounds and possibly the national drink of Greece. If you like it unsweetened, as I do, ask for, “Frappé sketo, parakalo.”

Private beach tents

Private beach tents

To avoid caffeine jitters, we will attempt to occupy one of the beautiful beach tents. I think we will have more luck. In those, there is a minimum order of 25 euros ($38) and you can set up camp for as long as you want that day. They are set slightly back from the beachfront and cost more than the beach umbrellas so there is usually one available. We plan to spend the day at the beach, have lunch in our tent and hide out there whenever we need a break from the sun.

We feel so lucky to have found this place: maybe Hera’s guilty conscious guided us here?

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Tynemouth

06 Friday Jun 2014

Posted by travellarge in Accommodation, Adventure, Architecture, Beach, Budget travel, Conservation, Dining, Education, Experiential Travel, Family, Hands-on Learning, Heritage, Homeschool, Parenting, Siblings, Teenagers, Travel, United Kingdom, Unschooling

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Alnwick, Alnwick Castle, Beach, Cumbria, Defence, England, Hadrian's Wall, Harry Potter, History, Hogwarts, Indian food, National Trust, Newcastle, Northumberland, Roman, Scotland, Seaside resorts, Take Away, Trams, Tynemouth, Tynemouth Metro Station, UNESCO World Heritage Site, Victorian resorts

Thank-you to everyone who sent us congrats (personally, by email or by commenting on this blog) on our “wedding”.  The only thing that would have made the day better would have been to see our friends and family standing with us in the blacksmith’s shop.

You’re wondering – how do you top a great morning like the one we had at Gretna Green?  I am here to tell you that the whole day was one of the very best of my life.  Like couples of old, we didn’t stick around to play tourist in Scotland.  We hightailed it right back to England.  Now Fahbio and I have been to the very north of England before and we love it.  Personally, I would take the north over the south every time.  It is wild and beautiful and real.

Firstborn admires wild beauty of Cumbria

Firstborn admires wild beauty of Cumbria, on the same spot she stood as a toddler fifteen years ago

Next on our agenda was Hadrian’s Wall.  Call me an ignoramus but when I first came to this part of the world 15 years ago, I had never heard of Hadrian’s Wall.  And when I found out that it was built by ROMANS in ROMAN TIMES, I was gobsmacked.  It takes forever to drive in a modern car from Dover to the Scottish border so think of how it was in ROMAN times.  And they didn’t come from Dover, they came from ROME.  And they had to conquer everything along the way so that must have slowed them down further.  It took ten thousand ROMAN soldiers ten years to build.  It runs for about 75 miles – right across England!

Hadrian's Wall, England/Scotland border area

Hadrian’s Wall with Fort, England/Scotland border area

Hadrian's Wall, detail

Hadrian’s Wall, detail

To the young couple with the dog (she in hot pink velour track suit), it was fun to talk with you and I know you were sincere in your appreciation of the ancient romanness of it all.  I wish I had been brave enough to say something to you at the time.  I am not sure why I didn’t.  Maybe because I didn’t want to spoil a great day or because I didn’t want to rain on your ancient roman parade.  But if you are reading this, I now have the guts to say that, in order of transgressions:

  1. Dogs were supposed to be kept on a lead but whatever that’s no biggie.
  2. There was a sign expressly asking people not to walk along the top of the wall for preservation sake.  I know it is tempting but if 5 monkey-kids could resist surely one fully grown man could have?
  3. If every person jumped to the back/north/Scottish side of the wall and jiggled a loose piece to remove it for their garden like a certain young man with a hot pink veloured side kick did, the wall would not exist.  From our discussion, I know it was loose anyways but it was pretty big and came from the bottom and frankly in four years when you move, you will forget about it and the next home owners will find their garden too rocky and toss it.

As we were hyping up Hadrian’s Wall on the drive there, Onlyboy said, “Let me guess, it’s another National Trust site?”  Yes, sarcastic one, it is.  It is also yet another UNESCO World Heritage Site so here we kill two birds with one stone!

Tynemouth Metro station, Photo from bbc.co.uk

Tynemouth Metro station, Photo from bbc.co.uk

After Hadrian’s Wall, we drove on to Tynemouth.  Newcastle Upon Tyne is a fantastic city in the very north of England.  I can’t recommend it enough.  Party animals from London come up to Newcastle for the weekend to let loose.  It is vibrant, fun, exciting, yet down to earth.  It has great architecture, pubs and clubs.  And it is just a few miles from the sea (and Scotland).  I call it the “Porto of the North” and we all know how gaga I am for Porto.  Parking is tricky in Newcastle so we found a hotel in the seaside suburb of Tynemouth.

In Victorian times, new tram lines allowed suburbs to grow and it became fashionable to head to the seashore on the weekends.  The Metro station in Tynemouth is a perfect confection.  Built in 1882, and completely restored, its delicate cast iron pillars hold up a glass ceiling festooned with curlicues and fretwork.  In IMHO, to simple call it the Tynemouth Metro station and stick a big yellow M outside the front door does not do this beauty (complete with lovingly restored train station by the way) justice.  How about “Ye Most Beautiful Victorian Work of Art Which Ye Can Still Enter for the Price of a Few Coppers and Which Will Transport Ye Literally, Figuratively, Emotionally, and Physically Both Downtown and Back in Time”.  Just a suggestion.

Children play in front of Grand Hotel, Tynemouth (requisite VW campervan in background)

Children play in front of Grand Hotel, Tynemouth (requisite VW campervan in background)

The hotel was a little pricey but it had free parking and breakfast was included.  Once we arrived, it became clear that we had come to one of the best-value stops of our whole trip.

Grand Hotel, Tynemouth

Grand Hotel, Tynemouth

The hotel was built for the Duchess of Northumberland in 1872 as her summer residence but only five years later it was converted to a hotel.  The hotel is still owned by the current Duke and Duchess of Northumberland and guess where they live?  In Alnwick Castle, where the family has lived for 700 years.  Alnwick Castle is where they filmed the first two Harry Potter movies – Alnwick Castle is Hogwarts!!!  When the kids found all that out, they just about passed out and a spur of the moment plan was hatched to visit Alnwick Castle.  Believe me, I had a bit of teasing to do about them all of a sudden wanting to drive an hour to visit yet another 700 year old castle.  Unfortunately, it is still owned by the family so our National Trust membership will not save us from the $65 or so it will cost us to get in.  But by all accounts, it is well worth the visit and the Duke has kindly decreed that he who buyeth an entrance ticket shall hereby be permitted to useth it as much as he wishith for a whole year.

One of our three bedrooms and two bathrooms, Grand Hotel Suite

One of our three bedrooms and two bathrooms, Grand Hotel Suite

View from our room, Tynemouth

View from our room, Tynemouth

Our “family room” in the Grand Hotel was a suite of three bedrooms and two bathrooms spread over two floors.  The view was gorgeous and the breakfast was to die for.  It consisted of a buffet of cereals, croissants, juices etc as well as a hot main course to be ordered at the table: full English, eggs benedict, smoked haddock with lemon sauce and so on and so forth.  Our server had just returned a few days earlier from eight months of backpacking around the world so we had many notes to compare.  Definitely the right place to come on honeymoon with five kids.

For dinner we embraced the fact that, for once, we had no kitchen and got fish and chips takeaway for the kids and Indian take away for the adults.  I can’t comment on the fish as I did not have it but the Indian food was the best I have eaten in years.  The yogurt in the raita was homemade, the lime pickle also homemade, the lamb so tender and not at all greasy, the chicken sweet with raisins and coconut.  First class all the way and the perfect ending to a perfect day.

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Wales

22 Thursday May 2014

Posted by travellarge in Accommodation, Adventure, Architecture, Beach, Conservation, Education, Experiential Travel, Family, France, Handmade, Hands-on Learning, Heritage, Homeschool, Parenting, Siblings, Teenagers, Travel, United Kingdom, Unschooling

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Beach, cancer, circle of life, example, Existential angst, Family history, Family stories, garbled existentialism, Human Nature, inspiration, Interconnectedness, library, Meaning of life, Northern Wales, Siblings, Wales

We had never planned to visit Wales. But we were offered the opportunity to stay in a Welsh cottage for a few days. The invitation extended to a fortnight. We were given the opportunity to travel narrowboat through England and Wales. A request to couchsurf with a family on the Welsh coast was accepted. Suddenly we realized that we would be spending a month in Wales.

Sitting in a quiet cottage in Wales has given SWMBO lots of time to ruminate.  The following post could be classified as garbled  existentialism (with a few non-sequitors thrown in for good measure).

Inspiring Example

Occasionally, you meet a person. Two months ago, I had never met this particular person. This person is much older than me, grew up on another continent, and has led a very different life. This person married a learned man and raised two children in foreign countries.

She has welcomed us into her homes in France and Wales and every object in each house is something that I covet and/or something I had hoped to buy. And I mean every. single. object. The playing cards – I wanted to buy them at Mont St. Michel but they were pricey. The plates. The slate. Every object is meaningful/hand crafted/beautiful and what I would choose myself if I could.

This person is well-educated and intelligent – both qualities I prize. This person has a good sense of humour. Something I also prize. So far, these are qualities I believe I possess. Whew.

Shabby chic door, Porto

Shabby chic door, Porto

But this person is gracious (NOT me). This person is quiet and doesn’t push her opinions on people (NOT me). This person not only cherishes different and troubled people (as I do) but she also accepts them (as I don’t) into her heart and her home. She welcomes pets and young children into her home (as I don’t). She has infinite patience. And yet retains her wit and sense of humour (as I definitely don’t).

I have been privileged to meet people before who welcome strangers into their hearts and offer their possessions unreservedly – our couchsurfers in Porto welcomed us with a literal key to their home. These people are unusual and rare.

But I have never before met someone who was so transparent with history, soul, childhood, family. That is an amazing gift. It may be human nature to tend toward snarkiness but when someone has opened their heart in this way, you want to nourish and protect it. Fahbio can be pretty cynical but I see him shielding this family and I know he would do anything for them.

Wisteria

Wisteria

I believe myself to be an open, truthful person, but seeing the person I describe (and her family), I see that I still put on airs and gloss things over for posterity. I hope to learn from her example: to be as educated, as humble, as curious, as charitable, as open as possible. Let’s see if you can, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks.

What she said

In England, it would seem that the difference between British and Canadian would be a matter of accent. In fact, many terms and idioms are very different. I keep asking for the washroom and am greeted with blank stares. Eventually, I remember, “The toilet?” and all is well. Scones have sultanas (raisins) in them. Lemonade is 7-Up or Sprite. Yesterday, I order iced tea for the girls and the server gave me a blank look and then said, “What? Is that just black tea with ice? I’ve never heard of it.”

When someone says something to us, we have to ask the person to repeat. Often we have to ask them to spell it out. And likewise when we talk. And I would just like to point out that we are all anglophiles and quite up on all these things.

Now, on to Welsh. What can I say? We know nothing about it. I noticed a lot of “coed” stuff around and asked the lovely lady at Tourist Information about it and she told me that it meant “wood/forest”. She also told me that “llan” means parish/church so that “Llangollen” means parish of Saint Gollen, rather than OMG-Lookout-Aquaduct!!!!

Lockkeeper's cottage (jigsaw puzzle souvenir of our days in the narrowboat)

Lockkeeper’s cottage (jigsaw puzzle souvenir of our Llangollen Canal days)

I’ve been told that Welsh is one of the most difficult languages to learn. Apparently, the beginnings of words change so that looking things up in the dictionary is impossible. I also know that Welsh is an ancient language. I thought I knew that there were very few native Welsh speakers. But where we are in Northern Wales (and in fact earlier in the month on the English/Northern Welsh border), we hear many people speaking Welsh. I am guessing that we have landed in a Welsh-speaking pocket that is probably not typical of the country. Maybe.

Unknown

We knew nothing about Wales. Before we came, I knew that the national vegetable was the leek. Or so I had heard.

There is so much here but it is a completely unknown part of the world for North Americans. Who in Canada knows anything about Wales? And BTW, Wales is pretty big.

What is Wales anyways? Sheep. Coal. Slate. Singing. Leeks?

Slate, slate, everywhere

Slate, slate, everywhere

Croeso (Welcome in Welsh)

I have heard many stories about how welcoming the Welsh are. Here is a story told by an old English woman who grew up here in a well-off, artistic family with five children.  In the early days in Wales, they had no car. Shopping was done in town by boat. Now the town was across the estuary from home and the estuary tides are dangerous and quick moving. The shop keeper always went down the queue and asked each person if they would allow the family to move to the front as they had very limited time to shop and get back out before the tide went down. And of course, they were always successful in dashing in and out.

Here is our story. We’ve visited many libraries since starting this journey in February: we love books, reading, and libraries. Each time we’ve been treated as oddities or guests. And that is what we expected.

But today, in Harlech, we were given a library card and allowed to take out 13 books. The sweet librarian, who quietly phoned her superior and conferred in Welsh, has no idea what she has given us. After months on the road, our kids are starved for print material. And wifi. And a familiar library in which to browse and relax. The Harlech Library is so small that it is only open for 9 hours per week. It may smell a bit musty, but man, does it deliver. It has a striking view of Harlech castle out the window and as you read, you are lulled by the Welsh conversations taking place around you. Whilst open, it is a hub of the community.

Our new library card

Our new library card

Harlech library hours

Harlech library hours

We can keep our books for three weeks or renew them for another three weeks. We can use any library in Northern Wales and can return our books 200 miles away if we so choose. And we were given a nice plastic bag in which to carry them. BTW – the wifi was excellent.

We all are young, grow old, and die

We know it as a concept but each person experiences a turning point where they understand that it will ACTUALLY happen to them. For most it happens in middle age but for some it happens in youth. Two years ago, cancer awakened me to my mortality. I felt it to the core of my being. That was the turning point for me. I knew I would die. Somehow. Someway. Somewhere.

Like childbirth, it is amazing how that feeling will always stay with you and yet you can suppress it. This trip has allowed me to connect to a Welsh family and to contemplate the passage of life in a more calm manner.

I hear stories of the five siblings growing up in Wales and I think of my five children. I hear about all the travel of the grown-up siblings and their spouses and I think of myself. I hear current tales of widowhood, dementia, spunk, adventure, anti-establishmentarianism and pray that I might still be here to experience that wild ride for myself.

I have come to the conclusion that some people are born with a low tolerance for adventure. Those seeking the golden handcuffs of a secure, pensioned government job. With these people, I have little affinity.

Many people are not afforded the opportunity to experience travel/adventure but when as adults (at 20 or at 80), they seek it out, or stumble upon it, they embrace it.   I love these stories, which to me are mythical. I love nothing more than the tale of someone who has never left their state/province before or has never been on an airplane and then hearing of the adventure from their perspective.

Some people are born to an adventurous life: adventurous by nature or carrying on the activities of their parents. These are the people and stories I relate to best. I have never done anything very adventurous, yet these are the stories that resonate with me.

Boat on estuary, Wales

Boat on estuary, Wales

Can’t do it, wouldn’t miss it

I know now for sure that I have no desire to live by the sea. The damp, mould, rain. But I also know that I need to be by the sea occasionally. It smells wonderful and is ever changing. I could sit all day and watch the tide go in and out.   I love beach combing and coastal views. It scares me and fascinates me.  I can only handle so much living on the edge of the world.

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Singapore Math

12 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by travellarge in Accommodation, Adventure, Asia, Beach, Budget travel, Camping, Dining, Education, Experiential Travel, Family, Homeschool, Humour, Siblings, Singapore, Street food, Teenagers, Travel, Unschooling

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asia, backpacking, Beach, Budget, canadians, family, Family fun, Hawker Stands, homeschool, homeschooling, migrant workers, Pasir Ris, Siblings, singapore, Subsistence Living, taxi, tent camping, travel

SWMBO writes:

Comparing math curricula is a popular activity among homeschooling parents in North America.  Since we pay for our schoolbooks ourselves (usually online, sight unseen), we want to get the best text and workbooks for our students without breaking the bank.  Popular programs are Math-U-See, Teaching Textbooks, JUMP Math, Miquon and Singapore.  We’ve always used Singapore with a sprinkling of Miquon: a rigid base cake with a soft yet surprisingly strong icing.

Miquon was developed at the Miquon School in Pennsylvania by Lore Rasmussen in the 1960s.  It is a hippie alternative to traditional math that introduces children in grades 1-3 to complex concepts such as negative numbers in a fun, tactile way.  Check it out but I warn you that the teacher’s guide is the least user-friendly document on the planet.

Singapore Math is the curriculum developed by the government of Singapore and used in schools there.  My kids enjoy word problems that deal with Mingfa weighing durians and Meihua selling satay sticks.  I guess what I am saying is that for us SINGAPORE = MATH.

So how about a little practical application to our years of book work?

Coconut trees, Pasir Ris

Coconut trees, Pasir Ris

I watched the news for the first time in weeks a few days ago.  In with the headline stories of Ukraine was the news that Singapore is now the most expensive city in the world to live in.  Worse than London.  Worse than Tokyo. Worse than Paris and Stockholm.

Guess where we were going next?

Hotels in Singapore are miniscule, can’t take more than 2 adults and 1 child, and start at over $200 Cdn a night.  With the 3 rooms we would need, that would be $600/night.  Say what?

Airbnb?  No place under $200/night for us.  This was the option we chose at the beginning of our trip and it was great but a real budget-breaker and not justifiable this time without a huge time/temperature change to adjust to.

A hostel?  The ones I checked offered dorm beds for $20/person so with Lastborn not paying that would be $120 Cdn for us.  To stay in a hostel with a shared bathroom.

Camping?  We would require two camping permits for our two tents at a cost of $0/per permit/per night.  $0 x 2 nights = $0.

Hmmm.  This is a math test I could score 100% on.

Tent, Pasir Ris

Tent, Pasir Ris

Camping was recently introduced in several parks by the Singapore National Parks Board.  Residents of Singapore can now approach a parking-meter-like machine and enter a resident number and details of when and where they wish to camp.  The machine prints a camping permit on the spot.  Since we don’t have resident numbers, I applied for our camping permits directly from the Singapore National Parks Board before we left home.  The staff where extremely helpful and I ended up with permits to two parks – East Coast Park in mid-February and Pasir Ris Park in March.  Because I was sick in February, we never used our permit for East Coast Park, opting instead to go to Malaysia and stay in a comfy hotel.  Pasir Ris means “bolt rope” beach and paints a picture of the long, narrow beach (no swimming!) that runs along the north of the park.

When we landed at Changi Airport in Singapore, we took two taxis to our campsite.  Amazing how three hours ago we all fit into a taxi in Vietnam with our luggage but now somehow we needed two taxis.  I’d like to get my hands on the first guy to propose seat belt regulations! Just kidding – kind of.

Camping, Pasir Ris

Campers in Pasir Ris

Pasir ris path

Pasir ris path

Anyways, it wasn’t far and meant that we got there in 10 minutes instead of 1 hour 15 minutes on the metro.  Setting up two tents that you have recently bought and never used before, in a foreign country, with five tired children, forty-five minutes before sundown is not something I would recommend to the novice camper.  Did I mention that we have only ever camped twice in the past 20 years?  Anyways, it all went well and how handy to have a restaurant steps from our campsite so that we could have dinner now that it was so dark. Only $165.  Yes, $165.

Camping in Singapore is not like camping in Canada.  No bears.  No poison ivy.  No canoe-in sites.  Camping in Singapore is more like sleeping in a large urban park:  amazing play structure; bikes for rent; hedge maze; pony rides. There was even a  shopping mall at the edge of the park.  We would walk to the mall in the morning for a coffee at MacDonald’s ($4 per coffee) and then shop for groceries in the supermarket (easily $120/day in minimal groceries for mediocre meals like tuna sandwiches).

Early morning jog, Pasir Ris

Early morning jog, Pasir Ris

And wifi?  Forget it!  Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Vietnam anymore!  There were “Wifi free” signs everywhere in the mall but there was no wifi.  Even at MacDonald’s.  The sign was accurate – not free wifi but wifi free.

Because Singapore is so wealthy compared to neighbouring countries, it has a large migrant worker population.  These people work very long hours for little pay and tend to live with their employers.  When they get time off, they want to get away but have little  money to spend.  So they congregate in the parks with friends, relatives and sweethearts.  Because we were camping on the weekend, we got to soak up the atmosphere.  Every barbecue pit was smoking, the sky was full of kites and we heard people taking, laughing and drinking beer until the wee, wee hours.

Cleaning the beach, Pasir Ris

Cleaning the beach, Pasir Ris

One of the things that Singapore is well known for is its love of food and its hawker stands.  These are not like street food in Vietnam because in Singapore they like to regulate and control everything.  So years ago, they banned vendors from selling on the streets and made them all get permits for mall food courts where they have access to electricity and running water and where they are regularly inspected.  For North American foodies, going to a shopping mall food court to get the best food in the city is a hard concept to accept.  But the best eating in Singapore is in these places.  And with the exception of free camping permits, it is the best value in the city-state.

The food court is set up like a cafeteria with tables in the middle (more wifi free!) and multiple independent hawkers selling foods around the perimeter.  You pay at each stand.  Each dish costs between $2-$6.  We had things like 1/2 roast chicken with rice ($5.50), dumpling soup with gailan ($4), sweet and sour pork ($5.50), orange chicken ($5.50), and lamdung (milk with rose water syrup – $1.50).  We spent around $27 for a meal for all 7 of us with each person choosing the stall and dish of their choice.  Seems like all of Singapore agreed that it didn’t seem worthwhile to shop and cook.  The hawker stands open in the morning and stay open until 10 pm and the food is very fresh.

view from tent

View from tent

Another view from tent, Pasir Ris

Another view from tent, Pasir Ris

So I’ll wrap this up by saying that we didn’t see any of the top Singapore sights like the zoo.  But we definitely got a taste of the real Singapore in a breezy, sun dappled park.

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