The Senegambia Girls’ Trip: Part 3

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Catch up on Part 1 here

Catch up on Part 2 here

I have to be honest and say that prior to planning this trip with my friends, I had no idea that The Gambia was a country that existed. As with most of Africa, the borders only make sense due to colonialism.

The Gambia’s present-day boundaries trace back to colonial competition between Britain and France in the nineteenth century. The 1889 Anglo-French agreement set the country’s borders as a slender corridor along the Gambia River, stretching about 10 kilometers from each bank and leaving it almost entirely surrounded by Senegal. This arrangement largely reflected British and French colonial priorities rather than the boundaries, identities, or interests of local communities and ethnic groups.

It’s also interesting to note that the official languages of The Gambia are English, as well as local languages Mandinka, Pulaar, Wolof, Soninke, Jola, Serer, Manjak, Bainouk, Portuguese Creole and others.

Up until this point of our journey, we had a reasonably smooth and pleasant stay in the parts of Senegal that we visited. Even with the “language barrier” of French, Jeremies really made sure that we were comfortable and if there were any issues, they were addressed promptly.

However, we soon would realize that The Gambia would call on us to have a little more patience, confidence, and humor. To be fair, Jeremies did give us a heads up in that things may be hectic at the land border. We would have to stamp out of Senegal, walk over to the immigration office on The Gambia side to stamp in (and get a visa for lil ol’ American me), before continuing on to the ferry stop at Barra to take us over to the capital Banjul.

We spent all morning driving, with a short, calm stop for lunch before approaching the border. At that point, our group made a quick jump out of our van and made a beeline to the Senegalese border control, all while trying to circumvent SIM card vendors, black market money changers, and snack ladies.

Our first sign of trouble was at border control, where they held back one of my friends, trying to bribe her for money (with Jeremies having to step in and “sort things out”). When we walked over to The Gambia side, we entered a tiny building where Jeremies explained to the officers that we needed to be stamped in (plus a visa for me). Somehow, we were granted access to the front of the line to meet the chief officer. While I felt bad that we had skipped a line of almost 20 people, I also wanted to skedaddle on out of there.

When the chief did arrive, he did not hesitate to make his “power and influence” known. Upon looking at my US passport, he declared “you are getting a stamp and visa from a very important person here who makes key decisions”…or something comical along those lines. I started to laugh, thinking he was joking, but I immediatly shut up when I saw his stern expression didn’t crack.

I didn’t want to be thrown in Gambian jail for disrespecting a government official…even if a mom cat and her kittens were taking shelter in the cell!

We thought we were through the worst of it once we got back into the van, but the corruption only continued. When we were stopped the first time, it was about 5 min after we had left the immigration office. The officer and Jeremies had a heated discussion, as we were trying to explain how ridiculous it was that we were being stopped when he had just stamped out. He shut up when he was handed about the equivalent of $2…a bribe that would fund his afternoon coffee—a Touba coffee, to be more precise.

Little did we know that his officer buddy further down was given a heads up about us. We were stopped yet again, and again asked for a bribe equivalent to a cup of coffee to avoid any inconveniences.

After the third stop, it was getting to be a bit much. Even our normally calm driver was getting irritated. At this point, he got into a tiff with the officer and left the van to have a chat on the side of the road—amongst goats, chicken, and roadside coffee.

It’s the chickens for me

After about 20 minutes, we were able to continue, as long as we forked over money of course. Unfortunately, this is a circumstance that can occur when driving in West Africa, although other land borders and roads are known to be worse!

Three more stops of this “touba coffee bribe” and we finally made it to Barra, and the scene was even more overwhelming. We were now in a time crunch, needing to get tickets to make it on the last ferry to Banjul, and to get our van on board as well. We would be sitting in the van while on the ferry.

The most convenient way to ensure access was to acquire a priority pass to be one of the first vehicles to enter the ferry when boarding opened up. An attendant then got into our van, saying he would “guide” us to the “VIP entry.”

Once on board the ferry, we finally had a few hours of reprieve. It did feel a little “VIP” to be safely tucked in a vehicle while it seemed like chaos was taking over around us.

Rush hour onto the ferry

The ferry ride is supposedly 30 min, but it felt much longer. I was surprised to see how much wider, cleaner, and calmer the roads in Banjul were, and before we knew it, we were at our accommodation for our Gambian portion of the trip, Coco Ocean Resort and Spa.

The resort space was spacious, clean, and was a beachfront property, but I couldn’t help but feel like I had been transported back to the 1970s.

Needless to say, we were all too exhausted for dinner, so I dipped into the snack bag we had been carrying around and pulled out something of comfort from home to keep my stomach quiet until morning—a Snowman Cookie from Starbucks 😂.

The next morning, I mustered enough energy to go for a short run, which ended up being quite pleasant. I somehow managed to take a really cool picture that ended up being my phone wall paper for half of this year:

Banjul Beach Vibes

We had a slow start to the morning, and so we were able to enjoy breakfast at an easy-going pace at the resort. By the time we sat down, the place was bustling, but we were able to get a nice table outside.

It was at this point I started to notice some “interesting pairings”. The Gambia is notorious for a certain type of tourism, mainly pertaining to older women from Europe seeking companionship from darker, younger Gambian men. And while the pairings weren’t rampant at our accommodation, there were one or two I happened to spot since my brain was now more attuned to that generalization.

However, one of the waiters during breakfast seemed to be playing to the stereotype asking if “I was looking to have my coffee dark, just like him”. I brushed it off while also trying to hold in my laughter—I had zero interest in these cliché games!

As the day went on, things continued to take a humorous turn. Frankly speaking, The Gambia is not as developed in the tourism sector as Senegal, so there are a limited amount of (entertaining) activities to partake in, even in the capital Banjul. Jeremies still tried his best to put together an interesting itinerary. That led us to meeting Mowoki’s Gambian “intern”, an extremely tall young lad who was excited to welcome us to his country. He seriously could have been recruited to play professional basketball in the USA, but his heart was set on getting a degree in tourism??

Our first stop was Arch 22, and all I can really say is, wtf.

My reason for such a stark expression was due to the fact that this monument, Arch 22, was the thing to see in Banjul. It was built in 1996 to mark the July 22, 1994 military coup that brought Yahya Jammeh to power, and so it made me wonder are we condemning a dictatorship??

There happened to be another “guide” sitting at the bottom level of the arch (let’s call him Monsieur Misogynist, for a reason that will be clarified later), who did not hesitate to charge us a fee to head to the top and to later check out the exhibits inside. I couldn’t understand him despite him speaking English (he was speaking in an interesting accent and quite fast) but I happened to catch that the Arch 22 has now supposedly taken on a different role. Instead of just standing as a tribute to a darker period in history, it now also serves as a place where people can look back on the Jammeh era and the harm caused under his rule. What started as a symbol of power has become more of a reminder of the past, and a way for The Gambia to face that history rather than ignore it.

To make things even more bizzare, Monsieur Misogynist offered to take our pictures at the top of Arch, and demanded that we jump for our photos High School Musical style, just after learning about Arch 22. When we took a look at our phone galleries later, we immediately deleted all the photos after bursting into laughter…this man could not take a photo to save his life! Cropping off our heads mid-jump, if not completely blurred altogether.

Monsieur then had us follow him to the exhibits inside. My initial thought was again, wtf.

The “museum” inside the arch


By the time we assembled in front of The Gambian flag and a large picture of two men in military garb, a fellow tourist from the UK by the name of Abraham ended up accidentally joining our group. Monsieur Misogynist was quick to launch into story time, and I quickly lost track of what he was saying. At one point, we ended up dividing ourselves into two groups for a quick “quiz” game about the history of slavery. Abraham ended up with Jeremies and the Gambian intern, while it was us four girls forming the second group.

We knew right away that the game was rigged when we provided full responses to Monsieur’s questions, but he was quick to dismiss us in favor of the haphazard responses from the guys team. My friends and I were immediately livid, and things only continued to get worse. We had moved on from the flag (but not without a cringe picture in front of it while reciting the Gambian national anthem), and onto Monsieur’s rant about women. He started off talking about jujus (traditional spiritual amulets, talismans, or charms believed to hold supernatural powers for protection, healing, or good fortune) and how that nowadays, African women are not living up to tradition and having babies as they should. This really appalled my friends and I, and the four of us ended up making a secret dash for the exit while Abraham continued on with Monsieur! We raced down the Arch trying to make sure we didn’t trip on eachother and busted out laughing once we got back to our van. We truly did get our fill of The Gambia at that point, but more was in store!

Jeremies thought the Bakau Craft Market might be a redeeming activity, and we actually found it to be a lot calmer than the markets we visited in Senegal.


Our Gambian intern went to town with some of the musical instruments, while my friends M and P were on fire with their bartering skills with the local shopkeepers.

Aneesa and I found ourselves in one particular shop where we stumbled upon this painting, which sums up the Gambian experience for some…

The painter’s nephew happened to be in the shop that day, and explained to us that his uncle really likes white women, but has yet to find one for himself 😳.

At that point, it was safe to say we saw all that we needed to see in The Gambia. I felt particularly beat so I took a nap while the rest of the group relaxed by the pool. We were able to end the night with a nice Thai dinner as well, and were perfectly fine with the idea with staying at the resort “safe and sound”, knowing that we had to mentally prep for the journey back to Senegal the next morning.

The next morning, we left The Gambia and began the long journey back to Senegal. After a lengthy ferry ride followed by several hours on the road, we were more than ready for a break, and a meal.

Would have loved some bread with this but the veggies were cooked and seasoned well!

We stopped for a late lunch at NDOYA in Ndangane, located in the Sine-Saloum region. The restaurant is women-owned and served fresh, delicious food, making it the perfect place to relax and recharge before continuing on our way.

By around 5 p.m., we arrived at King Baobab Lodge in Palmarin Diakhanor, in the Sine-Saloum Delta. The Wi-Fi was not particularly reliable, but that hardly mattered. We spent the evening watching the sunset, taking in the peaceful surroundings, and enjoying a (decent) buffet dinner before settling in for the night.

Our second-to-last full day started with a boat ride on the river through the mangroves. To reach the boat, we had to walk through water for a short distance, which caused some personal panic as I was determined not to get my cute dress wet! But our driver volunteered to help us onto the boat, which required us to be picked up for a hot second as we swung onto the boat. We felt like princesses for sure, lol!

The boat ride was a calming, slow drift on the water, which gave us plenty of time to take photos, enjoy the scenery, close our eyes, and relax (while also trying to avoid direct sunlight).

Afterward, we endured a long, bumpy drive to Saly. Along the way, we stopped to see a baobab tree with a large, unusual hole in its trunk…that people could climb into?? No thanks, I’ll just admire it from the outside 😅.

Once we arrived in Saly, we checked back into the Palm Beach Resort that we stayed at earlier in the trip. We were once again entertained with sunsets and our “White Lotus/soap opera characters” at dinner 🤭.

Another sunset in Saly

On our final (full) day, I started with a run along the beach before breakfast. My final breakfast at the resort consisted of my favorite waffles + nutella combo, but my breakfast once again came with an unexpected surprise: two pieces of aluminum foil in my food, which I guess was a great way to finish off my last breakfast in Senegal! 🙃

Not too soon after breakfast, we headed to Mbour for a “cultural encounter” (at least that’s what I read in our itinerary, lol). We were invited to have lunch at our driver’s home, where we met his wife and children, and learned that we would be sitting down to a home-cooked traditional Senegalese meal, prepared mainly by our driver’s wife.

It was of course, not a car ride without another different kind of encounter. We had to make a quick pit stop at the bank, though some of us stayed back in the car with our door wide open. A street vendor came by and decided to see if we could be won over by any of his wares. I guess we looked like the kind of ladies who would be into self defense because the first thing he whipped out was a TASER, and even demonstrated that it was in working condition. Not a few seconds into the zzzrrrpp! sound and we were all shooing him away 😂.

Once we got back on the road and arrived at our driver’s house, we were delightfully pampered and ended up observing the driver’s wife cooking rather than pitching in 😅. The original intention of this activity was to be a “cooking class”, but we really didn’t do much except relax in the living room and poke fun at Jeremies 😆.

The main dish was thieboudienne, a Senegalese one-pot meal consisting of fish, rice, and vegetables that included cassava, carrots, and cabbage, all cooked in a rich tomato-based sauce. The fish is usually marinated and fried before being added to the dish, while the broken rice absorbs all the bold flavors of the garlic, onions, and spices.

Everyone was aware of my dietary preferences, and so a separate vegetarian version was made for me! So while I felt like an outcast not being able to participate in the communal aspect of sharing thieboudienne, I did appreciate the separate vegetarian meal. 

Vegetarian Thieboudienne

We spent much of the afternoon being silly and laughing with the family. After the meal, we had watermelon and drank attaya, a sweet green tea made with mint and sugar. The tea is brewed in three stages over hot coals and poured repeatedly between a kettle and small glasses to create a thick layer of foam. It starts out strong and bitter, but the eventual sweetness makes it surprisingly enjoyable.

Cheers!

After completing our meal and digesting, we said our goodbyes to the family (not our driver, we still had our drives to the airport with him!) and headed back to our resort in Saly.

That evening was spent in even more relaxation: a hammam treatment, drinks with Jeremies, and we enjoyed one final dinner together, us girls, since we all had varying departure times the next day.

The journey back was overall quite smooth once leaving Dakar (I was irritated with an immigration officer who decided he would stamp me out on a fresh new page with a stamp RIGHT in the MIDDLE 🥴).

My return flight was also on United, a direct to IAD which was incredibly convenient looking back. I was able to get upgraded to Polaris First Class, and that was quite an experience as well!

My closing notes on Senegal and The Gambia? I appreciate the fact that I was able to travel to both of these countries with the logistics completely ironed out by a travel company, and that I could just show up with my friends without a worry or stressing thought.

The unfortunate part is that as I continue to dedicate time to international travel, and to exploring countries in the world that are considered “unconventional” by American standards, I feel that I will continue to distance myself from those who do not understand what it means to travel to countries “no one has ever heard of”.

I am truly excited to discover more of the African continent, and to continue to share my experiences in the coming years. Jeremies and I even had a conversation about travel to Africa on the podcast, and what is the hope for Africans as well as foreigners when it comes to smoother travel across the continent.

Even if you aren’t convinced to visit Senegal nor The Gambia after this insane 3-parter, I hope as a reader, you are able to appreciate what a little bit of West Africa is able to offer! And don’t worry, there will be more of Africa on this blog very soon 😉.

Remembering Malmö and Copenhagen

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Before the COVID crisis took over, I took the privilege of travel for granted. Looking back, I was lucky to have opportunites to travel both domestically (within the US) and internationally, solo or with family.

Since moving to Italy, I have yet to go beyond Lombardia’s borders. Even within Lombardia, I’ve only really “visited” Milan and Como.

And coming from LA, it didn’t take too long to master these cities 😉

As much as my solo trip to Sweden in the summer of 2019 was indeed lonely, I am still awestruck by the fact that I completed a 10-day trip-for-one, despite the many moments of ennui I experienced.

My trip started in Stockholm, followed by stops in Gothenburg, Malmo, and Copenhagen. Although the latter of the cities is technically in Denmark, it happened to be my most favorite part of the trip.

I documented my Swedish & Copenhagen adventures on a former blog before I decided to close it down for Second Gen Desi. But with COVID still around and with it still influencing our current travel policies, I decided to dig through my archives and find my old travel posts so that I could try to relive the memories.

Since I was unable to copy over the text, we’ll have to settle for these screenshots, and you’ll have to forgive me for the small, poor photo quality 😅.

Still, I’m glad I took the time to type out a recap of my trip, even if it was three months after I returned 😅😅.

Hard to believe there was a time of crowds and flurry at the peak of summer. I can only imagine what Italy was like in the summer of 2019, and I wonder if we can ever get back to that type of traveling lifestyle ever again…

As for Sweden, I don’t have much of a desire to return for leisure, but I have heard amazing things about Norway and Finland…but to be honest, I’d be happy just to make it out of Lombardia for my travel plans this year 😉

Dubai – a Brown Peoples’ Vegas

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If you ask me if a little over 24 hours is enough to spend in Dubai, I’d say, plenty. Especially if you’re traveling with a dad who reached his point of exhaustion before even making it to our final destination (India) and a sister sensitive to overwhelming crowds after being sleep-deprived for 14 hours…

Dubai, tryna be all impressive 😹

When it comes to artificial landscapes and hellacious weather, I’d be the first one to find a fast excuse to hightail on out of spending more time than necessary in the place of question. But given that a cousin we hadn’t seen in 13 years was living in “Brown People Vegas” with her husband and two grade-school twin kids, that was our rationale for making a Dubai Detour.

I once overheard some Europeans raving about visiting Vegas, Arizona, and Southwest USA in general because of the desert landscape—something nonexistent in the fresh countries of Europe. But if you ask me, I’d rather spend time in the artic, rainforest, or ocean before choosing the desert. I can never wrap my head around the idea of wanting to spend time being hot. I don’t care about sand dunes, if my skin is at risk of being fried, I’ll pass.

My cousin did ask us beforehand if we had any ideas of what we’d like to do in Dubai within our short period of time visiting. She brought up a desert safari in which we could crash into sand dunes and dine in the desert, but my dad, knowing he was going to feel exhausted AF even before we departed the US, shot that idea down. If India wasn’t on our agenda, I would have been on-board with the idea, but I was hoping that she would toss in some more ideas that were, erhmmm, less physically taxing?

We never came to a real consensus on our “itinerary”, and so we left things up to chance when we arrived in Dubai. At least we arrived at a decent time, around noon local time, and not at 2am, which would unfortunately be our arrival time in India in a few short days…

My cousin’s husband, S, picked us up from the airport, outfitted in a polo shirt and cargo shorts. It was December 28th, and lo and behold, it was at least 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside 🙄. This was cold weather for Dubai, meaning that I knew I would never be able to live here and be happy!

Tried to appreciate the blue, but all I could notice was the brown tinge on almost all of these buildings 😹

S helped us load our suitcases into his car, and gave us a little “tour” on our way to the flat. The shops were lined up similar to what I’ve seen in India, but the roads were more clean, quiet, and less crowded…at least during the day. Despite all this, everything seemed to have a “tinge of brown” surrounding it. I guess that’s something you can’t escape if the city you’ve built is literally atop a desert.

So far, I wasn’t impressed. I wasn’t convinced as to why Dubai has been considered THE vacation/party/travel destination of late. What was I NOT seeing?

We soon arrived at a complex of flats where my cousin’s family lived. It reminded me of what I would see in India, except less dusty (much to my surprise). We settled in pretty quickly, and honestly, it was hard to keep my eyes open because jet-lag was hitting me hard. Good thing we didn’t plan on doing the desert safari after all…

When my cousin M arrived, my sis and I lept up and gave her a hug to make up for 13 years of lost contact 🥰. We met her kids soon after that, and after freshening up, we thought it would help our body clocks to get some steps in around the city.

I will admit, the sunset views are top-notch!

Our stop was The Dubai Mall, where my cousin said we could see a fountain show as well as go to the top of the Burj Khalifa. The mall was large no doubt, but besides some unique shops I haven’t seen in the States (oh, and the Borders that seemed to be revived from the dead lol), I wasn’t blown away.

I thought this flying (or diving?) men art piece was pretty cool…

In fact, I was exhausted by the crowds and wishing I could rest my eyes and lie down on a soft pillow…my sister was also mentally and physically checked out. She was not having it with the overzealous tourists swarming everywhere…especially at the top of level of da Burj.

Burj Khalifa

We pretty much had our own reality checks once we got to the top: it would take a substantial load of (nonexistent) energy for us to enjoy ourselves enough to be Instagram-pic level happy 😆. As much as I wanted to take in the moment and appreciate the views, I also had to be mindful of my body. My sister was on the verge of tears because of the emotional exhaustion she was feeling, and I had to be empathetic. 

As much as travel is thrilling and exciting, it is depleting and tiring. That’s the truth that most people tend to brush under the rug when they return from a long vacation and are asked about how their trip was. 

But I like to keep it real, and to be honest, despite the lovely views of the city from above, I was feeling like c-r-a-p.

I can now look at this picture and at least appreciate and respect the work it took to build something like this, but when I was peering through the glass at 7pm Dubai time after 14 hours of economy-class plane travel? 🤢🤢🤢 

Fortunately, our cousin was very understanding of our emotional situations and we drove back home after descending from the Burj. We picked up some food court Lebanese food and shared family-style. At least the night ended well 🤷.

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The next day, we contemplated if we would have enough time to check out Abu Dhabi. It would have been a little over an hour in the car, and my mind toyed with the idea of how cool it would have been to check off two cities in the UAE, but there were other people to consider in my travel company ( a dad who just woke up from his first night of normal sleep in days, and my sister who was just starting to recover from her sleep deprivation)…

We played it safe, and visited another attraction that just astounded me—Dubai Miracle Garden.

Don’t get me wrong. The displays were beautiful, artistic, and a feast for the eyes, but I just could not get over the fact that—

Hold up, we’re in the middle of a freaking desert. This ain’t natural!

Dubai Miracle Garden

Hence the name miracle garden, I get that, but how is this sustainable? It just seemed to be the opposite of eco-friendly to me, and I couldn’t shake off this thought as we continued throughout the park.

Emirates, always be pluggin’ 🤣

I also couldn’t shake off the stench of fertilizer (lol), but I was distracted enough at some points to admire some pretty displays:

A gorgeous umbrella display 💕
Gorgeous hues of flowers—really appreciated this for some reason. Maybe because it was a nice source of shade 😂 

Eventually, the heat got to us and we moved on. I must have been pretty beat because after grabbing a scoop of Biscoff ice cream as we left the park, I fell into a sweet nap, along with the kids! #NoShame

It felt like a long drive to our next destination, but when I woke up we were in Al Seef, which I soon fell in love with because it had that desert charm I was expecting to see throughout Dubai…at least it was located in one place here!

Hello Al Seef 👋 

At the end of the day, it was just another shopping and dining area, but I felt like once I was inside, it gave off the vibe of stepping into a world of an older time. Window-shopping was a pleasant experience…

Hi Dubai, you finally showin’ me your cute side?
My inner nerd loved this display at a perfume store 😀

Dinner was a casual affair: a stop at a sub-par Italian place that served up piadinas, and a place I wouldn’t recommend visiting—especially if your stay in Dubai was as short as ours.

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I do wish we spent another day or two, when our energy levels picked up, with my cousin and her family. Leaving for India at 9pm soon after our first full day in Dubai seemed like a hasty move, but the fact that we were even able to make room for Dubai was a remarkable feat for us 😂

Would I ever choose to live in Dubai? Nah.

Would I ever come back to vacation in Dubai? Most likely no, unless someone else paid for it!

But at the top of the Burj, my Dad shared his thoughts on how Dubai is probably the prime entertainment and recreation destination for many South Asians and Middle Easterners…probably the farthest one would venture “out west” in a lifetime!

So at least it’s there for someone—it’s just not my cup of tea 🤷

Have you ever visited Dubai? What was your experience like?

Holding Back

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Conceptualized November 30, 2018

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I hate being the target of assumptions.

I hate walking into a room feeling stuck in a mold that was imposed upon me by others. 

Mahabalipuram, a town in the Chengalpattu district of Tamil Nadu. 56 kilometers south of Chennai.

Growing up, I would vow before each trip to Chennai that things would finally be different. I would speak up. I would face my grandmother and say, “Pati, nee eppadi irruken?”, and not the safe and comfortable “How are you?”  

But as soon as our plane hit the tarmac in Chennai, the humidity would blast me and a frog would nestle in my throat. I would subconsciously tuck behind my Dad as if his presence would help me disappear for the next three weeks… 

We would walk out into the open, luggage in tow, with a million eyeballs facing us as we tried to find our familiar faces. Uncles and aunts would be there, but my tongue would stay still. I felt embarrassed to speak in English, so I would just smile and hesitantly laugh at every word my relatives spoke to me. 

Every time they turned to my Dad, they spoke in Tamil. My ears would tune in, just in case one of my uncles threw in a joke along with a head shake, a hand wave, and loud clap. I would try to laugh as hard as I could just so they would know I understood. But when their eyes landed on me—-in the rare moments after the meet and greet—it would be a simple question, and it was always in English. 

Rusting gate in Thiruporur, a town in Chengalpattu district in Tamil Nadu ⭐ Hate to admit that I often felt “locked in” in regards to being able to truly express myself on these trips to Chennai.

Those trips to India left me exhausted, ashamed, and embarrassed. Meeting extended relatives brought on anxiety more than anything, and the pressure to be Indian, when I was obviously not (at least in their eyes) made things more confusing than I could handle. 

The last time I went to India, it was four years ago, a few months before embarking on my PhD journey. It was one of those trips I went in saying things would be different. This time, I would try.

But the three weeks I spent in a homeland that felt foreign took an opposite turn. I was battling an eating disorder, and on top of trying to cover up my shame of not being able to speak Tamil fluently and confidently, I felt overwhelmed with the food I was trying so hard to avoid. Instead of drinking chai and indulging in sweets, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. 

4 years later, and I am still at a crossroads with my mother tongue. 

Wearing the clothes, but feeling self-conscious—especially on the traditional streets of Triplicane.

At least my dad had a choice. He grew up in a large family, interactions abound. He may have fallen in love with the American radio shows and Western movies his eyes laid upon as a boy, but despite making the move to America and actively choosing to live a new life, assimilate into a new culture, and allowing his accent to fade away, he still managed to have no problem with coming back. 

But I was born into a world I had no decision in wanting to be a part of. No one asked me if I wanted to be an ABCD—an American-Born Confused Desi .  

When it came time for me to formally learn a second language, I was in high school. Though when I walked in on the first day of class, I was already put into a stereotype: in the eye of my German teacher of Chinese-origin, I was the studious, quiet Indian girl who probably spoke Hindi at home and was going to ace his class and add German to my language repertoire because I study all the time. 

He got the quiet part right, and to a certain extent, I picked up German—-the passive way of course. In my four years of high school, I was “Inge” every minute I was in his classroom (we had to pick German names for us to use on our first day), and while the first 3 years were fun, I still could not build up the courage to speak the language and build oral fluency. I did what was mandatory in class, but I had no desire to build upon the language outside of class. Especially when I developed depression in my senior year—-speaking fluent German was far from my priorities when I was face down on the kitchen floor sobbing every night, facing an existential crisis at only 17. 

I’ve made attempts after each trip—with recent memories of time spent with family still fresh in my mind. This would be enough to motivate me to dust off the number of Tamil learning books I accumulated over the years. I’d bring up my desire to start practicing to my Dad, and we’d hold a few short conversations here and there over the phone, but I found myself losing patience and steering back to English.

Because it was comfortable, and provided me with the words necessary to express myself.

Orange County Airport Views ⭐ Returning to the US after long trips in Chennai gave my subconscious a sense of relief. I felt like I could “be myself” again.

If I was too exhausted after a long work day, depressed by an emotionally traumatic event or angered by someone and needed to vent, my basic vocabulary in Tamil was not enough for me to get my emotions out. It would be a battle of frustration just to find the words…and that would only add to the negative feelings I harbored at the moment.

As a student in the last stages of her PhD, change is hitting me from all angles. As with all transitional points that have occurred in my life so far, I have a deep, intrinsic feeling that my next chapter waits for me beyond the abnormally sunny skies of LA. As people get older, nature usually kicks in—people want to settle, find comfort, and engross themselves into a routine that they can rely on for years.

But I am a person who can’t be static. I want to explore the world, live in different countries, and be a “global citizen“.

I just feel guilty for not being fluent in the language of my heritage 😞.

This will continue to be my internal battle until I am able to truly decide if this is what I need to feel like I “belong”, and if so, I will need to fiercely prioritize my time with the language. I oftentimes feel frustrated because looking to the past, my parents could have made it their duty to make sure my sister and I spoke Tamil fluently. I could have been more adamant to learn when I was younger. I could have tried this, done that, used this, read that…

One thing I try to emphasize to myself is that my lack of fluency doesn’t make me any less “desi”. Most of the time, it certainly feels like it does, but in all other aspects of my culture—my Hindu faith, my awareness of basic customs, my observance of societal “rules” when visiting Chennai—I’m as desi as can be.

Weak in fluency, strong in cultural awareness

One of these days, my daydreams to communicate effortlessly with extended relatives will become a reality.

Hopefully as I grow older and wiser, my confidence with Tamil will grow with me.

Hopefully the frog in my throat will find a new place to haunt, and I’ll be comfortable enough to express myself in the words of my ancestors.

That multi-lingual confidence ⭐ it’s in me somewhere 😉

Female Solo-ing in Vancouver

Reading Time: 8 minutes

❗Disclaimer❗ This is a travel guide written based on my experiences with solo travel. Your experiences may very well be different—I’m hoping that my “adventures” serve as some kind of inspiration for yours 😉

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Vancouver is the perfect city for a female traveler to go exploring on her own, without much hassle and worry. I paid a visit to this city of “Beautiful British Columbia” over (US) Thanksgiving break last year, and it turned out to be a pleasantly peaceful weekend to satisfy my ever-growing wanderlust. 

View of Downtown Vancouver from Stanley Park


I booked this flight back in August, about 3 months before the trip. I used Scott’s Cheap Flights as a guide, and it was actually an e-mail from them that prompted me to book a flight! I think I paid less than $300 USD round trip! Interestingly, it was cheaper to fly to another country Thanksgiving weekend than it was to another state within the US 😂 #SupplyAndDemand 

This was also my third international trip as a female solo traveler. My first two were in Barcelona and parts of Sweden, both of which had their ups and downs, but Vancouver just felt perfect on all fronts. It helped to be in a good mood going in, but many of the following things contributed to my conclusions about Vancity: 


WHERE TO STAY 


I flew out on WestJet from LAX the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. Because I still had to go to work that day, my flight was at night, and I arrived close to 10pm. Uber/Lyft is not available to Vancity (at least when I went) so I had to take a cab from the airport to my Airbnb in Downtown Vancouver. 


The taxi cost about $30 USD, and wasn’t too bad since that’s usually how much is costs to get to LAX with Lyft in my experience. My Airbnb was located in a high rise near Gastown, on the 27th floor! While the views were gorgeous, the room I was renting out of the condo was literally the size of a closet! I guess you get what you paid for, and I paid about $250 for four nights, and the convenience of being so close to all the great city spots. Also, my Airbnb host had a cute frenchie 🐕 that would greet me with a plushie in his mouth, lol! 


THINGS TO DO 


This city is perfect if you like to walk around and explore things on foot. I pretty much walked everywhere, except for getting to-and-from the airport. I took the bus when I went to Capilano but walked back to downtown, and was served some of the most beautiful views ever despite the long walk back!

So, TL;DR, just walk everywhere! It’s fun, and you can justify all those amazing calories you’ll consume while exploring Vancity 😉

✰STANLEY PARK✰ 

Stanley Park is a gorgeous, expansive nature-lover’s paradise! There are plenty of bay, forest and rocky views. I kept a lookout for animals, but only saw Canadian geese, ducks, seagulls, and of course the many breeds of domesticated dog!

I wonder how much blubber these babes have stored, cause dang it was cold when I visited!!
It’s not a park unless there are duck denizens!

One of the main reasons SP was on my go-see list was because of the Totem Poles. I love finding unique statues and historic sites in places I visit, in what are seemingly places that are common all over (like parks).

Totem Poles

I passed through SP on all of the days I was in Vancouver. SP was my prime destination on the first day. On the second day, it was part of my morning run route, and on the third day, it was my final leg of a long walk back from the Capilano Suspension Bridge!

So I guess even if it’s not on your to-do list, it’ll somehow make it’s way into it!


✰GRANVILLE ISLAND (& MARKET)✰ 

Using Google Maps to walk to GI can be tricky, but I triumphed!

Welcome to Granville Island!

The air was quite chilly the day I went, so I was shivering as I was walking towards the island, despite wearing my layers, puffy coat, gloves and beanie!

I was low-key disappointed in what I found though…don’t get me wrong, some of the shops I walked into had cute, novelty Canadian souvenirs and plenty of things to peruse through, but I guess I was expecting there to be more stuff to do…

I did venture into the Granville Island Market…that was packed.

Market inside

If I had been in a hungrier mood, you better believe I would have bought up most of the market 😂! There were SO much to choose from—fruits, cheeses, fudge, candies, cookies, gelato, fresh pasta, etc.!

But, what was silly ol’ me craving?

Apple Cider from Petit Ami

I took this piping hot cup outside, and found a nice bench by the water to sit, relax, rest my legs, and take in the views…

Granville Island Vibes


✰CAPILANO SUSPENSION BRIDGE✰ 

Alright, I’m gonna be 100% honest about this one. CSB is overpriced, and not worth the trip for anyone sensitive to motion-sickness! Walking across the bridge was more of a doozy than I expected it to be…

Capilano Suspension Bridge

The views from the bridge are so fresh and green, but I was getting headaches and low-key dizzy from walking across the wavy bridge…

Gorgeous views from the bridge

I would recommend—if you do decide to make CSB a stop on your Vancity trip—to come after eating a proper meal. Come bundled up if you visit during the winter like I did. I think part of the reason I grew bored of the attraction was due to the fact I was already doing a lot of walking on the trip, haha!

A bridge among trees


THINGS TO EAT 

Since I was staying near Gastown, I had plenty of cafes, coffee houses restaurants to choose from! I didn’t have the best appetite on this trip, but when I did feel that hunger coming, I made sure to sate it with foods I was craving and visiting places worth checking out. 

49th Parallel Coffee Roasters was a place I bookmarked on Instagram because they have a partnership with Lucky Donuts, and those donuts look BOMB. 

I went to one of their shops on Thurlow St. in Downtown. As I was waiting in line, my appetite for a donut started to sink. The donuts looked gorgeous, but I just wasn’t feeling that sweet tooth vibe for whatever reason…so I got a cappuccino and a breakfast sandwich called The Avo. Made with eggs, avocado, mayo and sweet tomato paste, this was a perfect breakfast sandwich to refuel with after a morning run! 

The Avo

Other great breakfast/coffee places included Prado Cafe, where I had a beetroot latte to warm me up (in the most literal sense!) before a morning run.

Beetroot Latte, Prado Cafe

PappaRoti had an amazing Mushroom & Jarlsberg Cheese Quiche, which I had with a mildly-sweet cafe latte, and also before a morning run!

Mushroom & Jarlsberg Quiche with Spicy Mayo, PappaRoti

Plenty more delicious food was had! Scroll through the pics below to see for yourself 🤤

Cartem’s Donuts ⭐ Biscoffee Donut
Melu Juice Bar ⭐ Zoodle Bowl
Tandoori Bowl ⭐ Vegan Cave Cafe
Crispy Chikun Burger (vegan!) ⭐ MeeT in Gastown
Butter Chik’n Poutine (vegan and spicy!) ⭐ MeeT in Yaletown
Vegan Mint Chip & Sugar Cookie Cardamom ⭐ Earnest Ice Cream


SAFETY 
I felt comfortable and safe in Vancouver, throughout my stay. Yes, I will admit that I may have a slight advantage having lived in LA…since I lived in -between South Central and DTLA in my first two years of graduate school, I wasn’t too intimidated by Canada!

I relied on walking for most of my trip, and felt super comfortable. Of course, I took general precautions and did not stay out very late or in dark, isolated areas, but besides taking general precautions, Vancouver (in my opinion) is a friendly destination for the female solo traveler.

Safe to walk across Burrard Bridge at night.


FIVE OBSERVATIONS
 

✰Vancouver is a city of bridges, I just couldn’t avoid them 🙂 !✰ 

Cambie Bridge Crossing w/ views of Downtown

✰Fudge is just as popular—if not more—than maple syrup!✰ 

Mouth-watering fudge at Granville Island Market!

✰Vancouver is a city meant for people who like the outdoors and to be active!✰ 

Running man statue at Stanley Park

✰ The night views are epic. ✰

View from Cambie Bridge at night!

✰ Tim Horton’s: a Canadian symbol, but not worth the hype. ✰

A simple egg & cheese muffin sandwich w/ black coffee. Sandwich was so dry ><


THE NOT SO GREAT 


Honestly, there wasn’t much to complain about in my opinion! Sure, there was no break from the cold, but what do you expect at the end of November in Canada? Funnily enough, it was raining and cloudy in LA during the days I was in Vancouver, and despite being in the low-mid 30s F, the sun was out on most days! 

The people are friendly, the neighborhoods are safe, and the views are incredible. I’d say the city is too laidback for me to call it home (lol) but it is the perfect city for a novice female solo traveler to spread her wings and not worry too much 🙂 


FOR THE FEMALE WHO…

Loves convenient public transit

Compass card I used to ride the bus

Loves to daydream

Vancouver skies

Loves wildlife

Canadian geese <3

So, if your starting out as a female solo traveler and need an easy-peasy (but beautiful) place to explore, Vancouver is an excellent choice!

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Have you ever visited Vancouver?

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