It is always great for us to find Travel Geeks that strive to make a difference in the world, especially young people. Sosaucer Maddie Fuller is spending a year in Thailand for a teaching exchange program that aims to assist the Baan Dada Children’s Home in Western Thailand. Maddie is a strong advocate for the rights of stateless Burmese refugee children in Thailand and has shared her travels throughout Southeast Asia with photos, trips, and videos all over Sosauce.

Maddie aims to “educate 60 of the most wonderful children in the world” from Baan Dada Children’s Home.

“If I can succeed in teaching jungle children, I can do anything (although I kind of believe that already),” says Maddie.

In the video below, Maddie introduces friends and family to her experience at Baan Dada in the hopes of raising awareness, support, and funds for children in need:

Her travel photos are not just fun to look at, they are touching and convey stories of another world as well.

For a 23 year-old girl from Maryland to be engaged in a new culture across the world is something surely to admire. To Maddie, it’s nothing, or Mai Pen Rai as the Thai would say.

Sosauce is proud to be the home of a Travel Geek that shares our belief in cultural enrichment and making global connections through the context of travel. If you are interested in learning more about the work Maddie does, be sure to send her a message on her Sosauce page. We hope she can inspire more young people to lend a hand across the globe.

Befriend current Sosaucers or invite your friends to Sosauce and pool in photos, videos, and journals from shared travel experiences. Get started at Sosauce.com!

Anna Volpi

Why I Travel

I bought the plane ticket for my first “big” trip during my lunch break. I went back to work and told my co-workers: “I’m leaving for Bali in a month. Not sure when or if I’ll be back.”

It wasn’t a completely impulsive decision. The deeply nurtured desire to travel had been living in me for years, and the time came when a collection of situations provided the optimal launch pad for my first adventure abroad. I was living in Los Angeles; heartbroken, paying too much rent and finished with school. So why not? Of course there are always reasons to not travel, there will always be, but sometimes one must ignore that little voice of reason and follow the voice of instinct. So I sold all my belongings and packed a backpack. What a stupendous decision that was. Some people have accused me of running away, others have admired me, and my parents were worried and then proud. There are many reasons why I travel but the one that stands above the rest is curiosity. I’m in awe every time I learn something new about how people live. Simple details like a handshake, a way to wait for the bus, or how to drink coffee are truly fascinating to me.

There is much that I learned while traveling. I understood what my basic needs are, what my greatest wants are and what my flaws are. I feel that knowledge is good enough reason for anyone to travel. Something else that I learned is that there is not just one type of traveler, but a myriad of people traveling for different reasons, and therefore creating an endless list of ways to travel. Nearly all the people I met that were working as volunteers had the intention of traveling afterwards. No one regretted giving their time and commitment; they all said that it brought them closer to the native culture and that it was a profound learning experience. Travel for me is not vacation; it’s discovery and learning – and therefore empowering.

Traveler Encounters

Sadly, a person who travels is not always as mentally open to the world as one might think. There are hundreds of people that I have exchanged words with while on a bus or at a lunch table that left me with nothing. Although I tried to appreciate them and accept our differences, I had to file them as “empty travelers.” I came to mentally hand out this term to people who just leaped across the surface of a place, without swimming into its deeper waters to appreciate its uniqueness in the world. These were generally young people who were on a gap year with a group of friends and continued doing the same things abroad that they did at home. They went to the most popular bars and hangouts, got drunk and had a grand old time. Nothing wrong with that, there is no wrong way to travel unless you are harming someone or something, but I just couldn’t get into that mindset. I tried. For a couple of weeks I danced the night away with foreigners in hip clothing at the Western style clubs in Southern Thailand. I’m not going to lie, I had fun, but it got old very quickly and I had to leave the small group I had found and go into Cambodia by myself to find my path again.

I also encountered ignorant travelers – people who not only brought their own ways with them, but also did not attempt to engage in any cultural exchange. For example, I was repeatedly stereotyped for being half American (my other half is Italian). A guy who didn’t even know my name once called me ‘stupid’. I really didn’t expect this kind of behavior from a fellow traveler, as everyone should appreciate differences and get to know someone before judging them. It was a sad truth to learn.

Why Others Travel

Some people travel with a clear idea of what they want to accomplish. These were people that made me feel as if I wasn’t giving back enough. These were people that were working as volunteers in one way or another. Some were stable in one place, others would volunteer for a little while, travel a bit, move on to another place and volunteer some more. Hearing the stories of various volunteers, I realized that everybody has something to offer. English is very valuable and there is no school that will refuse a guest speaker. Even if you think you don’t have any special skills, there is always a way to help out a community.

For some people travel is business. I remember Luis and Maria from Spain. Twice a year they would travel to Thailand and buy clothes, jewelery, purses and trinkets that they would then re-sell back at home. I met another man who was on his way to India to buy silver, and a woman in Bolivia who was buying alpaca wool to bring back home and sell at who knows what mark-up.

Another important reason to travel is to educate children. There is no greater gift that a parent can give their child – the appreciation of cultures and languages, foods and lands. To open their eyes, ears, mouths and minds to the beauty that lies everywhere. I think that cultural anthropology is a subject that should be taught starting in elementary school. Knowing and appreciating the world and its many different colors is the only way that we can raise children that are aware and appreciative of diversity. I have traveled alone, with partners as a couple, and now I am a mother. There is nothing in this world that I want to keep from my son. I wish to show him every inch of this Earth.

There were people traveling for short periods, some for longer, some alone and some in groups. I met a couple of foreign exchange students, some young people and some old. Whatever your reason, objective or mode of travel, keep those feet moving but also keep your mind moving. Offer what you can and accept what is offered to you.

Travel is what naturally runs in Anna‘s veins. After studies in theater, anthropology and photography, she lived out of a backpack for a couple of years in various countries. She is now on a baby making break, but will be back on the road as soon as possible with the added passion of a mother introducing her child to the World.

To become a guest blogger on the Sosauce Travel Geek blog, email us with a link to your Sosauce home page, your topic choice, and online presence. Be sure to read the guidelines here.

When I spent that year living in Shenzhen, one of the biggest problems I had was not making many friends. This has never been an issue for me in any other living situation – be it growing up, at summer camp, at college, or in my twenty-something life here in New York. I’m plenty likable, plenty outgoing, and take a genuine interest in hearing about other people’s passions.

To illustrate my point, I’m excluding, for the moment, the group of foreign English teachers that were part of my program.  Those were my closest friends, and I’m still in touch with many of them. We all lived in different neighborhoods and worked at separate schools, but met up in the center of the city to study, eat and go out, and spent vacations on extended travels together. They were a fantastic, adventurous group of people, and I can probably thank them for my sanity.

However, I wasn’t able to develop a legitimate friendship with nearly any Chinese people, which was distressing to me. It was definitely a culture – not language – barrier, as my Chinese language skills were decent (not fluent) and many many people spoke good English.

It’s hard for me to articulate this situation without coming off as racist and judgmental. Through my whole series of “Living in China” entries, being able to explain why I didn’t make Chinese friends is the subject that I’ve been dying to explore.

I’m going to do a little informal research among others who have lived in China for extended periods of time and complete this thought. I have a lot to say, but it’s tangled up with emotions right now. I’ll be back.

Who doesn’t love a good pun? Most people, it turns out.

The Chinese language, however, is structured to lend itself to a whole world of puns. Each syllable corresponds to a written character, and they are put together in different ways to make words.

For example, in English, we have a word for owl. It’s owl. It means owl. It’s a word on its own and doesn’t relate to anything else.

In Chinese, it’s 猫头鹰 (maotouying) or “cat-headed eagle.”  Which is kind of clever and also kind of confusing.

There are about 1,700 possible syllables in Mandarin compared with over 8,000 in English. This opens up many opportunities for hilarious confusion, clever use of homophones or good old puns. My friend Dan, who would historically make everyone groan with his silly jokes, was quite a hit in China, where puns and double entendres are a very popular and appreciated form of humor. They show a real mastery of language.

To give a newsworthy example, recently, a subversive Chinese artist posted internet videos for a song called 草泥马 (Grass-Mud Horse) which featured a happy alpaca galloping in a big field. The topic seemed totally benign and passed Chinese sensors. However, it became an overnight phenomenon as the Chinese and international media realized that the “grass-mud horse” was a disguised homophone for “(expletive) your mom.” The whole episode caused a great stir and brought attention to the Chinese censorship process, which is facing innumerable new hurdles with the internet age.

(Fun fact: That particular vulgar character is not included in many Chinese character input systems (like on cell phones) and is written literally with the character for entry below the character for flesh).

This story is just one of a million examples of why I find Chinese infinitely interesting. People often ask me how I’ve learned Chinese, which is popularly known as a difficult thing to do. I think it really borders on an almost obsessive desire to build words and extract basic meaning in new ways, figure out curious pieces of history and culture behind each character, and enjoy clever wordplay as you go.

I mean, popcorn is called 爆米花 (baomihua) which means “exploding corn flowers.” How awesome is that?

The holiday office party season is upon us.  I always enjoy browsing through the articles warning what NOT to do while celebrating, namely get too drunk, seduce a coworker, mouth off in front of your boss, or the classic dance on a table with a lampshade over your head.

In China, there are different standards for what is appropriate or expected in a social situation with coworkers.  There is a great emphasis placed on guanxi, which I’ll attempt to define as close, trustworthy personal relationships.  This means that you can have a great working relationship with a colleague, but its impossible to secure that same level of trust until you bond over a drink outside of the office.  And you can’t turn that drink down, for fear of losing face.  At the holiday party for the teachers at my school in Shenzhen, the principal and vice principal went around to every single table in the room to give a cheers.  They both got pretty intoxicated, which was funny to me.

Now, for the good stuff.  I mentioned a few weeks back that my then-boyfriend Eric (another American) was working at a school with a certain. . . tactless coworker named Mr. Li.  One evening, Mr. Li took Eric out for a special dinner.  After eating, Eric said he should be getting home, but Mr. Li insisted on bringing him to another place.  The two walked into a massage parlor and were ushered into separate rooms for a massage.  Eric’s started off without incident, but soon enough, his masseuse started taking off her clothes to begin the off-color portion of the evening.  Eric (whose Chinese was limited at that point) bolted upright, saying that this was not okay and cannot continue.  The masseuse rolled here eyes and stormed out of the room (partially clothed) and a much prettier woman walked in and began to undress.  Eric left the room to inform Mr. Li that he was walking out.  Mr. Li came to the door with panic-stricken eyes to make Eric promise that he wouldn’t tell any of their other coworkers.  Then, as he had already paid for two girls, they both went into his room and he said, “I guess I have double happiness?”

An awkward situation to say the least. Good thing American colleagues don’t bond the same way.

The United States is lovingly known as a “melting pot” for people with different ethnic backgrounds.  The degree to which they’re actually “melted” together varies across the country, with the density of cultural mix easily one of the top reasons why New York is an infinitely intriguing place.

Without getting into exposure to foreign languages or delicious new foods, one thing we’re used to looking at is different body types.  Certain ethnic backgrounds have a propensity towards the curvy, the tall, the broad-shouldered, the hairy, the overweight, or bright colored features like blue or green eyes, red or blond hair.  China for the most part, hasn’t integrated other genetic types into its pool, so there is much more similarity between people’s physical attributes.

Clearly there are exceptions everywhere, including some differences between northern and southern Chinese, but the majority of people are slim, not tall, narrow boned, small breasts and hips on women, minimal body hair on men, with pin-straight, jet-black hair.

After living China for a while, I too became very used to looking at only narrow bodies without much excess fat.  I distinctly remember flying into the airport in the United States and arriving with widened eyes.  “Woah.  Fat people.”

It’s something I had grown up with, so I adjusted back pretty quickly.  But what if you were never exposed to anything else and had no precedent for how to interact with someone who was so different?



In the autumn of 2006, I was with some friends out in Guangxi province, taking a trip to Guilin, Yangshuo and Longsheng.  We got cheaper return tickets from a slightly out-of-the-way train station, in a small place called Liuzhou, China.  Before our train left, we stopped into the snack store to get some food for the ride.

We were walking through the store, picking out snacks, and the snack store manager noticed my friend Stephanie, who is heavier than the rest of the group.

Out of nowhere, the snack store manager started poking Stephanie in the butt. She was quite amazed, and exclaimed:

“Your butt is so big!”

“It’s bigger than mine and I’m three months pregnant.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“You’re not pregnant!”

“Have you already had children?”

“No? Well, having a big butt is very fortunate. you will be very prosperous. Find a handsome husband and give birth to many strong boys!”

Then she cupped Stephanie’s butt in her hand, while repeatedly exclaiming “So big! So big!”



Luckily, Stephanie was not offended at all, and thought the whole situation was off-the-wall hilarious.  I guess it’s kind of like if you see a stranger who is over six and a half feet tall, people will stop and ask “how tall ARE you?”

Not quite the same, but with the same intention…

Located in Agra, most people come by way of Delhi, which, in typical Indian fashion is somewhere between a 3 and 6 hour train journey depending on the route they take.  Once there, a cluster of hotels are located right near the Taj, without much, as far as I can tell, differentiating one from another.  My only recommendation would be to find one with a rooftop cafe, as sitting up there and drinking a Kingfisher while the sun slowly sets behind the magnificent palace is one of those incredible travel moments to seek out.

My next recommendation is to get out there early.  Yes, really early.  I woke up at 4:30AM and made it to the gates by about 5AM, and am so glad that I did.  As one of the wonders of the world, needless to say crowds flock to see the Taj, but not many are willing to get there that early.  That means that when the Taj Mahal opens its gates (officially they say 6 AM, but unofficially it was more like 5:45), you have an entire World wonder nearly to yourself.  Also, for the photographers among you, the light is great early in the day and at dusk, but even as early as 7 AM becomes quite harsh, washing out detail in your shots.

After you pay the relatively ridiculous entrance fee of about $20 US (for comparison sake, my train ride there was $3US, and my hotel was $8US), the next decision to make is whether or not to get a guide.  Figuring it was a once in a lifetime experience, I went for it, and am glad that I did.  While he didn’t provide much more insight on its history than I gleaned from my guidebook, he knew the palace inside and out, and took me to all of the interesting nooks and corners of it.

Sure there are other details to think about, but the bottom line is this: in the back of my head I had convinced myself that there was no way the Taj could live up to all of its hype.  It exceeded it.  If you ever have the opportunity to visit, absolutely do so — just make sure you get up nice and early!

Alex Budak is a recent graduate of UCLA and is currently enrolled as a graduate student at Georgetown University where he studies Public Policy and Social Entrepreneurship. You can see more of his travels on Sosauce, his blog, or follow him on Twitter, @TheBudak.

Security guards surround the perimeter. Metal detectors and x-ray machines block the entrance, while trained dogs sit obediently at their master’s feet. Was I entering an airport? Nope; a hotel. But not just any hotel, it is Mumbai’s finest one — The Taj Palace, which was one of the targets during the 11/26 attacks on the city.

Upon entering the lobby, I believe I can say with confidence, that is it the best smelling room in all of India. I would gladly sit in there for hours at a time just for the air conditioning, fragrance, and bathrooms (more on these later). Unfortunately for me we didn’t have long to linger, as we were headed up to the top floor of the Taj Tower for dinner at Souk, a Lebanese restaurant overlooking the Gate of India.

For appetizers we shared four different mezzes, which ended up being enough for just a small taste of each item for each of us. The highlight, in my mind, were the Sigara Boregi — thin phyllo dough filled with feta, and rolled into tiny cigar shaped cylinders.

Taking a brief respite, I went to check out the restrooms at the Taj, which are supposed to be legendary (especially among backpackers like us used to the bare minimum in India: a hole in the floor). After exchanging an awkward hello with the bathroom attendant, I chose my stall, which had a heavy wooden door that extended from the floor to the marble ceiling below. The strange part, though, is that they have a mirror on the side of the toilet — but not a full length one, only one that extends about three feet up from the ground — just enough for you to uncomfortably see your side reflection as you sit there taking care of business. Upon exiting, my buddy the bathroom attendant, was ready for me, starting the water, adjusting its temperature, pouring soap in my hands, and, when I was finished, not just handing me a cloth towel, but rather draping it delicately over my hands, beginning the drying process. Though friendly, he reinforced one of my biggest pet peeves: bathroom attendants. I’m very good at, and have lots of practice with everything that goes on in a bathroom, and would very happily just do it on my own, thank you very much.

I returned to the table after my adventure just in time for the entrees to be served. I ordered a traditional Lebanese dish which features minced chicken and spices stuffed in a puff-pastry shell. The combinations and contrasts in it were wonderful: the salt of the chicken with the hint of sweet from the pastry; the bite of the filling with the crunch of the shell. It was served with a simply prepared salad of chic peas, and diced onion and tomatoes in a light olive oil coating.

Though we had no room left for dessert, our waiter brought us Moroccan mint tea, and, for some reason, after pouring each of my friends’ small glasses about halfway, he decided to fill mine, literally, to the edge. It made it hard to drink, but it was a nice palate cleanser following a flavorful meal.

Before leaving the hotel, we once again toured the lobby, breathing in as much of the lovely smell as we could, posing for pictures in which we pretended to actually be able to afford to stay here, and comparing and contrasting our Taj hotel bathroom experiences.

The Taj Hotel is, without question, worth a visit, And, if you’re going to be inside anyway, you might as well make your way up to the top floor, where a delicious meal awaits.

Alex Budak is a recent graduate of UCLA and is currently enrolled as a graduate student at Georgetown University where he studies Public Policy and Social Entrepreneurship. You can see more of his travels on Sosauce, his blog, or follow him on Twitter, @TheBudak.

Unfortunately, the U.S. hasn’t developed its rail system to make it an economically sound option for long distance travel. I refuse to pay ninety bucks to take the Amtrak train to D.C. when the bus costs only fifteen. In addition to the inconvenience, we’re missing out on the joy of the long train ride.

Each train in China has soft sleeper tickets (not too much cheaper than an air ticket), hard sleepers (a series of alcoves of triple-tier bunk beds with an aisle to walk around the car), soft seat (comfortable seats organized with tables between them) and hard seat (more like a bench).

Hard sleeper is always the top choice for a long journey. Tuck your bags under the beds and take out books and playing cards, snacks and a mug for tea (hot water taps are available on the train).  This is how I’ve spent many an hour, provided I’m not gazing out the window watching farmers bent over rice paddies and other parts of the rural world go by. At various intervals the train conductors will walk through the aisles, selling overpriced yet underwhelming hot meals, newspapers, fruit or weird little knickknacks like socks. Luckily, you won’t be tempted by the hot meals, because your snack bag contains a big cup of instant noodles, hopefully the kind that comes with the little packet of seasoned oil to drip on top.

You will make friends. If you have a bottom bunk, someone will probably come sit on the edge of it. Even if you’re trying to take a nap. If there is any child on the train, his mother may commission you for some free English lessons. People will be curious about what you’re doing on the train, especially if they live outside of big cities where they’re not exposed to a lot of foreigners.  Someone will come up to you, and initiate a conversation by asking some number of the following questions: “What are you doing in China?”  “Do you like China?”  “Where are you from?” “Are you married?” “How old are you?” “What is your job in China?”  “How much money do you make?” “How much money do you make in China compared to what you’d make at home?”  They will also offer you a bunch of different snacks which you’ve probably never tasted before. Likely spicy.

Lights go out at ten p.m. About an hour before arrival, music will be piped into speakers right next to your delicately sleeping ears to wake everyone up.  It will work. You’ll have to deal with the squat toilet (quite difficult on a moving train!) which empties directly onto the moving tracks below. Hope you didn’t lose your ticket!  You’ll have to hand that back in to the conductor.  Say goodbye and good luck to your new friends as you part ways forever.  And on to the next leg of your journey.

There is a very special place in my heart for the late night snack. There’s the classic 24-hour diner, the hot slice of New York pizza on a cool autumn night, the bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch—if I’ve had a long night out on the town, I could usually go for something between dinner and bedtime.

China opened up a whole new world of late night snacks to me.  Street corners throughout the cities come alive at night with makeshift grills for lamb skewers, garlic smothered eggplant, leeks, mushrooms, chicken wings, sweet potato slices and a whole tray full of different items to sample.  These places stay open seriously late, and are usually packed with boisterous, happy customers.

Usually you can find the street food stand by the scent of fatty lamb chunks sizzling over the grill.   Depending on your level of Chinese fluency, you can order your meats and vegetables by name, or simply point, as the day’s selection is always laid out in neat rows.  Unlike in America, the default for everything is QUITE SPICY.  As much as I try to work on it (and as much as I get made fun of), I have a fairly weak tolerance for hot spices, so I make sure to order mine 不太辣.

Next, take a seat on one of the low plastic stools around a small folding table. If a friend brings over a few large bottles of Tsingtao beer, they’re shared amongst the group into tiny cups made out of a curiously weak plastic.  Friends (and new friends at the neighboring tables) may shout the Chinese phrase for “cheers!” which is literally “dry glass!”  Conveniently, these cups are so very small, that emptying the glass in one gulp is not a problem.  At first.

Your food will show up to your table piece by piece, right when it’s piping hot.  Eat, share, order more and enjoy the high protein and high fat content. With each skewer only ten or twenty cents, it’s easy (and customary) for one person to cover the whole bill and let someone else treat next time.  Nothing can quite match that familiar easygoing atmosphere, homey service, and skewer after skewer of savory meats and veggies.  I imagine this type of experience extends to many who have traveled anywhere in the region.

But alas, with China six thousand some miles away, for now I’ll have to settle for cereal and milk.