Amsterdam.

If my fascination with Japan is based on the, well, contradictions, it’s safe to say that my fascination with The Netherlands is based on, well…contradictions.  When I first arrived in Amsterdam as a wide-eyed 22-year old, just 4 days into my first foray overseas, I was shocked and uncomfortable with the overall grunge and grit found around every corner.  By the time I got on the Deutsche Bahn train at Centraal Station headed for Koln, I truly believed that everyone in Amsterdam was dirty, high and paying for sex on a daily basis.

Left with this sour first impression, I was surprised when the next year I found myself working amidst Dutch people for the first time, and found them to be among the most business-focused, precise and organized people I had ever encountered.  Now having perception of the Dutch spanning two opposite extremes, by the time I returned to Holland a few years later, I found it to be a completely fascinating and different place.  In reality, it was comprised of the same grunge, the same 300-some “Coffeshops” that could legally sell up to five grams of soft drugs to each customer, and the same scantily-clad Eastern European (and other) women on display in the Red Light District.  The difference, of course, was in my own mentality.

Amsterdam is a breeding grounds for individuality, where strange and different is not merely tolerated, it is embraced.  Which pretty much makes the term “strange” irrelevant around here.  Quite simply, nothing is strange, rather…everything just is.  This can surely come as a shock at first to people raised on a particular set of ideals, norms and visions, but will always prove to be a lively and passionate breath of fresh air the moment one proves capable of breaking the shackles of “norms” and whets their palette for any adventure that may be lurking around the corner…

I found a funny micro blog about Ghanaian culture, entitled Ghanaian Problems.

Without further adieu, I share with you Ghanaian Problem #31:

My ID:  1:22pm, Wednesday, 23 March 2005:  Manila Ninoy Aquino International Airport

Philippine Airlines flight PR502 from Singapore

The tone was set for my Initial Descent into the Philippines before we had even approached Manila. About two hours into my flight from Singapore, where I had just transited from the United States, the Philippine Airlines flight attendant serving my section pulled me aside and asked a question: “Do you play basketball in the PBA?”

Of course, I had no idea what that was (it turns out it’s the Philippine Basketball Association), so I politely suggested that while I do play basketball, I was not a PBA participant. The middle-aged woman apologized unnecessarily, saying that I looked like I played basketball (perhaps my bald head at the time suggested as much), and asked if I needed anything else to make my flight more enjoyable. I settled for some mango juice and reclined my way into Manila.

The pleasant exchange taught me a few things about what to expect upon my arrival, which turned out to be true. The people were not shy, yet very humble, warm, polite and wanted to make me feel welcome. While this can be expected in the hospitality industry, in the Philippines I felt it from everyone, and it was genuine (and perhaps this is why the hospitality industry around the world employs so many people from the Philippines). I knew the visit would be good, and indeed it was.

Perhaps it was the dome that fooled the flight attendant…

If you’ve ever been to Turkey during Christmas season, it’s more than likely that you’ve enjoyed the very same libations that were enjoyed on Noah’s Ark. A symbol of peace and love, served by families to friends and loved ones during the holidays, aşure is a pudding containing multiple and varying ingredients. Known as Noah’s Pudding, it is believed to have been the last meal served on Noah’s Ark, in celebration as the great flood subsided.

You probably haven’t seen or tasted anything like this before, but don’t worry too much about what’s inside—it’s tradition! In case you’re curious, you’re likely to find a mix of rice, rosewater, walnuts, white beans, barley, chickpeas, pomegranate seeds, and other creative ingredients mixed together with lots of cinnamon. Because food was scarce on Noah’s Ark, the dish originated when Noah used the various ingredients that had been left over from previous meals to make his version of aşure.

Now it is a Christmastime staple in Turkey, and best enjoyed slowly, in the presence of great company. So as you make your rounds this Christmas, don’t expect to get in and get out quickly—allow time and take yourself back to the days of Noah!

If Santa Claus isn’t paying you a visit, maybe now you have a good alternative!

Very few places in the world celebrate Christmas the way Central Americans do. No matter what country you’re in here, chances are you will experience the most festive environment you’ve ever been a part of for a holiday (perhaps only the Philippines can compete for the honor of most extravagant Christmas celebrations).

The celebration here begins a full nine days before Christmas, with Las Posadas celebrating the symbolism of Mary’s pregnancy, the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem, and the search for lodging on the night Jesus was born. Religious processions are often seen marching through the streets—particularly in Guatemala—with figures of Mary and Joseph carried to the houses of friends and loved ones.

This nine-day celebration culminates in Nochebuena, or Christmas Eve, when just about everyone in Central America begins to gather with friends and family for huge feasts— featuring tamales (similar to empanadas), lechon (roast pig), gallina rellena (stuffed chicken) and hot chocolate—and dance celebrations that include lots of Christmas carols. Many of them attend the Misa del Gallo (“Rooster Mass”), which begins at midnight. Those who don’t attend the midnight mass typically gather around their home Nativity scenes to pray, sing and often exchange gifts. Many also use this opportunity to complete their Nativity display with the baby Jesus figure—conspicuously absent from the display for the weeks leading up to Nochebuena. In El Salvador and Nicaragua, it is common for people to shoot fireworks and estrellitas (little stars) to illuminate their lands and beaches and celebrate the significance of the day.

It must be experienced to be appreciated, so if you want to be amongst Central American people in their most festive state, plan a Christmas season here sometime. Many of these same traditions are prevalent in other Latin American countries outside of Central America, but nowhere quite to the extent of here.

In the past 7 years, I have flown exactly 792,571 miles, or 1,275,519 km for you metric folks. East Coast, West Coast, Canada, Mexico…no sweat. Eastern Europe, Western Europe…Southeast Asia, the Far East…even the Middle East.  No problem.

Last Friday was the first time I’ve ever been nervous upon arrival.  Into Rio de Janeiro.

A beautiful Initial Descent into Rio…

I guess that’s what happens when your only exposure to a place, besides a few nice pictures you saw online, are movies like Cidade de Deus (City of God) or Ônibus 174 (Bus 174). If you’ve seen either, you can understand. Through dramatically different series of events, each depicts a gruesome portrait of fear and violence that extreme poverty, particularly contrasted with great wealth, can nurture. Do a bit more research, and you learn about the Intercontinental Hotel that 10 drug dealers, engaged in a shootout with a rival gang, took hostage last September. Or the bullets that are known to occasionally pop across the main highway linking Galeao Airport to the city, dodging (hopefully) public buses and taxicabs full of tourists (prompting the city to, ever so gracefully, install walls painted with nice murals to keep the ‘noise’ out).

Landing at Galeão International Airport

Fresh on arrival at GIG Airport

So naturally, when I caught the Real Autobus in the direction of Santos Dumont, I had to use every ounce of discipline I had to keep my camera in the pocket, fearing getting robbed, jumped, mugged, or worse. But then a funny thing happened. As we drove past Complexo de Alemão (favela), then Mal Jardim (favela), past São Cristóvão and down Av. Presidente Vargas through downtown, I started to give into the temptation.

Snap.

Snap, snap.

Snap, snap, snap…before we even arrived to Santos Dumont (from where I’d catch a taxi), I had already captured 50-some (albeit bad) images. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but it only took about 15 minutes, on a public bus no less, to find my comfort zone. I wasn’t afraid of Rio anymore.

One of the more striking buildings I passed into Rio…

My ID:  7:10am, Friday, 28 November 2008:  Copenhagen Kastrup International Airport

Scandinavian Airlines System flight SK926 from Washington-Dulles

My Initial Descent into Scandinavia was one of the most spontaneous travel moments I’ve ever experienced. With a four-day break from work, I decided the day before the holiday that I would fly to Copenhagen. I had done no advanced planning, no research…nothing. I literally just packed a weekend bag, put on my winter jacket, and stepped onto the SAS plane. I didn’t know where I would stay or what I would do, but as my flight was a red eye and I would be landing in the morning, I figured I would have a day to figure it out.

Before we landed, some nice Danish people I had met on board had given me directions to Vesterport, near Copenhagen’s central station. They even had made a few hotel recommendations. While my first few choices were not available without notice, I eventually found a temporary home, dropped my bag, and set out to explore the city, amazed that I could pretty much cover it on foot.

My ID:  3:53pm, Wednesday, 21 January 2004:  Vancouver International Airport

Alaska Airlines flight AS673 from Los Angeles

My Initial Descent into Canada came on approach into Vancouver International Airport on a cold, gray January afternoon. Living in California at the time, I decided I wanted to see the city I had heard so much about. So I hopped on the plane and took in the beauty for the entire 3-hour journey up the coast. I was treated to a view of California’s Yosemite National Park, the downtown Seattle skyline, and excited for the bigger treat I had awaiting me upon landing.

On final approach into YVR

Just walking down the corridor at YVR to the immigration queue, I knew so much about the culture and heritage of British Columbia. From Native American Indian artifact displays to mock lakes and trees to recorded nature sounds coming from the walls surrounding me, no detail was left untouched. While the immigration officers themselves were a bit stuffy, I found everyone else I encountered during my first 4-day stay to be exactly as I had expected: warm, polite, friendly and welcoming. There have been few cities I have visited where I felt immediately at home, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that this was one of them.

Welcoming you into YVR

Yet another display to remind you where you are

A Native American Indian canoe, complete with bird noises