Top 5 clothing picks for women traveling to hot, conservative countries

If you're worried about looking like a dork abroad, know that not dressing appropriately in a conservative country is worse than looking silly, you'll also be acting like a jerk. I'm talking about most of Southeast Asia, the South Pacific, Asia, Morocco, Tunisia, small villages in Central and South America and more - in other words, those parts of the world that maintain a modest dress code without requiring something more hardcore like a burqa.

Figuring out what to wear while maintaining some style dignity can be hard for travelers, especially women, who have to cover up much more than men and who are more closely scrutinized. The question is, how does one dress conservatively, look a little nice and avoid overheating at the same time? After over 20 years of travel in these parts of the world and looking pretty awful through most of it, I've finally acquired a few key pieces that I feel keep the balance between comfort, appropriateness and fashion.

Here are my top 5 essentials:

The peasant top

Try to find one in a feather-weight, crinkly cotton that's not too see-through. Three quarter sleeves are best and make sure if there's a tie at the neck the keyhole part doesn't show any cleavage. Avoid mid-weight or heavy fabrics and any tight elastic. Think, breathable and keep it simple without a lot of flamboyant embroidery or other standout features.

Here's a current favorite of mine from Old Navy.

T-shirt

A good cut here is key. I hate boxy shirts that add a few pounds to my look but too tight is a no-no. I go for the lightest cotton possible that's still opaque, sleeves that are longer than a cap sleeve but shorter than three-quarters and loose enough to breath. Also make sure it's long enough that you're not going to bare any waistline when bending over etc. I personally like a mellow-colored print like ikat or tie-dye stripes to hide stains.

Capri pants

If these go out of fashion again I may die. Mid-calf in a lightweight sturdy fabric is a must. A drawstring waist is another plus since you'll be able to adjust them so they'll stay up properly without a belt through all the stretching and washings and un-washings they will surely go through - as well as any waistline changes travel may bring to your midriff. I have a pair right now that are my all-time favorite: they have good button cargo pockets and are made of a fabric that looks like cotton but is actually a 100% silk weave that's cool, soft and sturdy. Go for dark colors. I like fairly low-waisted styles because these look better on me, but if you can pull off the "natural waist" look without looking like you were on a $2 budget at Goodwill or got a bitchin' Christmas gift from your grandmother from Royal Robbins, then go for it.

Here are my favorite capris from Hei Hei but unfortunately they don't make them anymore.

Mid-calf length skirt

I actually don't pack these anymore since I find they're not practical for anything remotely active but if you're going to be hanging out in a city a lot or plan on needing to dress nicely at night, this can be an essential. Again, find a lightweight fabric that won't need ironing and don't get a skirt so full that it may get blown up by wind and give the conservative world a peek at your underpants. Length should be mid-calf.

Long pants

In general, I only wear long pants for insect protection, cold or because they're the only clean thing I have left to wear. I also wear them on the plane so they need to be stretchy enough to sleep in and look nice enough that if by some miracle of fate I get upgraded, I won't look too sloppy to sit in business class. I like light, soft cotton or Tencel with something elastic-like in the waist that won't pinch or stretch. Again, I think "natural waist" is a sin, but that's a matter of taste. Straight leg works best; anything with a flared leg will get caught in stuff and provide a tunnel for bugs to crawl up and skinny pants will be too sexy and cling to your humid skin like soggy plastic wrap. Go for dark colored. I'm partial to slate grey.

Bonus Piece: Silk scarf

Find the biggest one you can find that can compress into the smallest folded square. I keep one in my purse at all times on the road in case I need extra arm coverage or something over my hair for religious temples or particularly conservative places. It also can be used as a real scarf to add a little flair to your outfit (think: business class) and can provide warmth in unexpected air-con disaster areas like buses and cinemas.

Culturally misunderstood small talk

"Eh Celeste poria ia 'oe!"

This means "Celeste, you're fat," and I'm frequently greeted this way by female Tahitian friends I haven't seen in awhile.

It's not a compliment. In the past rotundity may have been a sign of beauty for Tahitian women but the Western world has seeped in too deeply and now most people would prefer to be skinny. But the conversation starter has stuck and, unless you look almost sickly thin, or you're a known athlete, people will probably tell you you've put on weight or at least "haven't got any fatter." In a way it's like saying you look healthy and happy even though you're not going to win any beauty pageants.

No one means offence by these comments but I still don't like being told I'm fat. I always get offended -- I can't help it -- but I let it go as a cross-cultural faux pas I'm only aware of on my end.

And this has got me thinking about other similar small talk that Westerners find uncouth.

In Indonesia and Malaysia the classic conversation starter is "Where are you going?"

This question isn't meant to be answered literally although most Westerners don't know that so feel it's invasive.

"Why is it this guy on the street's business where I'm going?" people ask.

It's not, so just answer vaguely with something like the classic "jalan jalan," which means just wandering around.

In the same vein if you asked an Indonesian "How are you?" they'd find it weird. It's a pretty intimate question if you think about it. Why would you casually ask about someone's mental state? It's a big can of worms if you attempt to answer it honestly.

In China common small talk may start with "Have you eaten?" I like this one (perhaps because I'm poria). It insinuates getting invited in for a meal or going to eat somewhere yummy, although it's more of a polite thing to say than attached to any real expectations.

These are just a few and I'm sure there are many more examples of funny conversation starters from around the world. Please leave some in the comments! I'd love to hear from you.

Life On the Road For a Lonely Planet Author

It sounds like a dream job. Many people seem to imagine that Lonely Planet writers spend days on the beach with giant cocktails in carved out pineapples; nights involve lavish dinners, more cocktails and everywhere they go people are doing everything they can to make their stay in the country perfect. Often I hear hotels and restaurant I've visited complaining that I never even came through. This always makes me snicker because they must think I show up with a name tag, giant camera and a clipboard or something. Or maybe they just assume I'd introduce myself - that would be nice but honestly I don't have time to chat at length with dozens of hotels and restaurants everyday.

The reality of how authors research varies from author to author but, in my case, most places I go to never know I came through. I probably stayed in their cheapest room and I can't eat everywhere so usually I'll just stop in to a restaurant for a juice or maybe just ask to see their menu. They probably saw me and felt bad that I was on my own and wondered what would lead a woman my age to stray so far from home. They may not have noticed me at all. Other travelers never guess who I am either.

I often get asked "what it's like" and what I do on an ordinary day. So here goes. I'm going to write this as an average day in Southeast Asia since that's where I spend the most time. Warning: It's long and a lot less exciting than you think it will be.

7:15 I wake up in a hard bed with a really bad pillow, wash-up in the hostel's shared bathroom, and put on clothes I washed in the sink the day before that have been drying draped over chairs and whatnot. I turn off the fan and get out the door in 15 minutes.

7:30 Breakfast at my favorite local joint. This will often be a place I've put in the book for years. It's busy and I'm hardly able to get a table but I'm the only Westerner there. So much for Lonely Planet ruining places. If it doesn't serve banana pancakes and looks too foreign, people won't go there. I enjoy an amazing meal, check my email on my phone, read a local paper and map out my day on the back of a map I picked up at my hostel. I take a moment to enjoy the exoticness of where I'm sitting and I'm thankful of my situation; I pay then go.

8:15 Nothing is open yet which frustrates me because I'm in a hurry to get stuff done. I walk around town to see which Western style breakfast places are open so I can recommend them for people who like to eat before 10am.

9:00 I start looking at hotels. I have a list of new places I've found on the Internet, by traveler's recommendations, at tourist offices or through local friend's suggestions. I've mapped them all out as I heard of them. As I'm on my way to a place on my list, I pass another place I've never heard of, pop in and ask to see a room. The people don't ask who I am or why I'm there and enthusiastically show me around. I ask them a million questions and they tell me all sorts of fun stories about the place and give me their business card. It ends up being the coolest place I find all day. I sneak into a hidden corner once I'm back outside and jot messy notes in my notebook.

10:30 After an hour and a half of wandering around, looking at hotels and seeing what's new I start to see other travelers eating their Western breakfasts around town. I note which places are the busiest, check the menus and get a table at the one that looks the best. I order a cup of tea, catch up writing notes in my notebook about everything I've seen that morning then text a local friend to see if they can meet for lunch. Meanwhile, I chat with a nice English couple at the table next to me who give me a great detailed, review of a bike tour I won't have time to go on myself. They of course have no idea that they just gave their input to Lonely Planet.

11:00 There are a few places I have to see that are way out of town. I hop on a bus then walk about 10 minutes to find the first place, which has great reviews on Trip Advisor. From the mildewed outside and depressing, hard-to-get-to location I can tell it's a dud. I wake up a TV-hypnotized receptionist and she takes me to a stinky room with a stained carpet and a lint-filled air-con vent. A few confused looking older Americans are dining on white toast, jam and coffee in the cafe downstairs. I thank the receptionist but don't bother to get the price because there's no way I'm putting this place in the book.

12:00 I walk high-speed back to the bus stop. The bus never shows. It's about 90 degrees Fahrenheit and 100 percent humidity, my face is bright red and I feel awful. It starts to rain. I walk about ten minutes in my plastic-bag-like emergency rain poncho while cars whiz past and I'm sure they're all laughing at me in my silly poncho that makes me look like an orange balloon. A big truck sprays muddy water all over me. I finally hail a taxi.

12:40 I meet my friend who I haven't seen in two years at a new hole-in-the-wall she says is really good. She says I look like hell and laughs at my wet, muddy legs and plastic bag poncho. We talk about her love life, my love life then she orders all the stuff that's supposed to be so good. It's fabulous so I take extensive notes about it. We stuff ourselves while chatting about what's new around town. After lunch I decide to throw my ugly poncho away and buy an umbrella.

1:40 It's raining and my friend has the afternoon off so she asks me where I need to go. I've been to most of the museums etc in town before and from asking around I've found nothing has changed, but there's a new shopping mall in a district I don't know well that I'd like to check out. We go but on the way stop at a temple I've never heard of where they do some sort of ritual that people come from all over the country to take part in for good luck. We go in and do the ritual, I talk to the abbot who tells me the fascinating history of the place. I take notes but once in the car I realize I'll never have the space to put this awesome place in the book - plus it's out of the way and a little spooky so, like my breakfast joint, hardly anyone would go there anyway. I consider returning to this place one day for one of the hundreds of non-fiction travel books I've thought about writing.

3:00 We get to the mall and it looks like every other mall in Southeast Asia. I jot down the names of some of the stores, we get an ice cream then head back to town.

3:45 My friend drives me to all the other out of the way hotels I need to go to. They are all really boring. She also helps me find a cheap umbrella. Meanwhile I get a text from another friend who wants to know if I want to go out to dinner with a bunch of couch surfers. I say OK.

6:00 I go back to my hotel, shower and write a few emails. What I'd really like to do is take a nap but I'm afraid I'd sleep through dinner.

7:30 I meet my local friends, three couch surfers and a random expat Kiwi English teacher at a food stall area. My friend has told them all about me so they all ask me about my job. They of course want to know how much money I make and assume I have to save all my receipts that I'll send back to Lonely Planet who will reimburse me for any and all expenses. I tell them that I actually work from a lump sum and if I spend more I earn less. No one seems to really care so I try and change the subject. I excuse myself during dinner and take notes on the new stalls that have opened since the last time I was here.

8:30 I've managed to pick the brains of every person at dinner and have a few good suggestions for the next town I'm going to and another review of the bike tour I can't go on. I suggest we get dessert at a place I want to try.

9:00 We go get dessert then check out a local night market. Then everyone but my local friend and the Kiwi guy goes home. The rest of us decide to go check out a new bar.

9:30 It's sort of dead but we all sit and have a beer. By 10pm more people show up and by 11pm it's rocking.

11:30 We move on to a club down the road that has a surprisingly decent cover band from the Philippines. I go up to dance, get hit on by a 50+ year-old Australian military dude and a Nigerian gigolo then decide this is more depressing than fun and I'd better go home. A drunk Asian girl I was dancing next to hugs me like we're best friends and tells me I can stay at her house next time I'm in town. I thank her but know I'll never see her again. My friends walk me home.

1:30am Back to my board-like bed with the too-tall pillow of rocks. I set my alarm for 8am so I can catch the 9am bus out of town. I toss and turn for about half an hour recapping my day, turn on the light briefly to check for bed bugs then fall asleep.

After each research trip comes the write-up which, in general, equals the time spent on the road. My fellow author Leif Pettersen has captured this type of day on video better than I ever could in words. To see it click here. Enjoy!

Video: Amazing Wildlife of Bako National Park, Borneo

I studied primatology at University so it had been a long-time dream of mine to see proboscis monkeys in the wild. Bako National Park in Sarawak, Borneo, Malaysia, did not disappoint. A proboscis family was out foraging in the mangroves near park headquarters every morning and there was a plethora of other fascinating critters to be seen as well.

Enjoy!




Note: I have a larger article on Bako in the works and I'll post a link once it's been published.

The Last Fortune Teller of Jonker's Walk, Melaka

I stop at the fortune teller's curtained off street stall to ask how much a fortune costs, not because I want to learn anything about my future. I'm intrigued that there's still a booth here at all amongst the fridge magnet and watch sellers of Melaka's increasingly commercial Jonker's Walk Night Market. But before I can even open my mouth, a middle aged Malaysian man whisks me over to sit at a table; unless I rudely get up and walk away, I'm suddenly committed to paying for whatever it is he's offering.

“It's 15 ringgit,” he tells me in a friendly voice as he shuffles a worn, damp looking deck of cards.

Fifteen ringgit (about US$4.50) is kind of steep for Melaka – that's two meals, or a tourist T-shirt and a half back out in the market - but, I'm already sitting here so I'd better make the most of it. Bring it on.

“Pick a card”

I pick one, it's the nine of spades.



He spreads the other cards out in a circle and grabs a photocopied form with some charts on it. At the top I read his name: Ah Chan Koon (Master). He scribbles five numbers down a column then writes down months to which they correspond. He works fast, time is money and he's on automatic pilot.

“November is very good,” he says. “January and February are very good too. Don't go diving in October and December is OK. When's your birthday?”

I tell him and he takes out a book to find my Chinese sign.

“Ah yes you're a mountain pig, very good. You're good at IT or you could be a nurse.”

I'm technology-challenged and I get queasy at the sight of blood.

He writes down more stuff on my chart including lucky numbers and colors then reads my palm. I'm happy to learn I'll live to 100 but not so happy that I'll have six children.

Lastly, he asks if I have any questions. This is surely where I could get my money's worth but my mind is blank, probably because I never wanted to know anything about my future in the first place. So ask him what I really wanted to know: is he the last fortune teller at this night market, where just a few years ago geomancers such as him were such a hot item?

“Yes, it's just me now,” he says.

This makes me a little sad and I thank him, pay him and ask if I can take his picture. He's happy to oblige and we smile and shake hands as I leave.





I weave my way back through the throngs of Singaporean and Malaysian tourists, the occasional Western head popping up through the crowd, past the trinkets and knock-off Crocks vendors that extend almost twice as far as they did the last time I was here a year and a half ago. The night is lit by bright lights coming from the stalls and the neon of shop fronts, it's hot and muggy and the air smells like fried food.

I don't feel like I know much more about my future but looking at how this place has grown, I can't help but forebode that Melaka's quirky seers, artists and antique dealers will increasingly be pushed out by all these plastic sandal and potato chips-on-a-stick sellers. Ah Chan Koon (Master) might not have told me a fortune that I find useful, but if my 15 ringgit helps to keep his booth on the night market strip and preserve the soul of this town, my money is well spent. Hopefully though my predictions are as flimsy as his – there's no way I'm having six kids so let's hope that it's equally unlikely that Melaka will loose its last signature fortune teller to cheap gadgets and quick commerce.

I Can't Feel the Bed Bugs Bite

Really, I can't feel them gnaw on me and their bites don't make me itch or cause a bump. I found this out the hard way.

On my first research trip to Malaysia for Lonely Planet I did a bunch of pre-research, trolling the web for comments about hotels and hostels around the country. When it came time for me to book a cheap backpackers for myself in Kuala Lumpur I was hit with a terrible realization: nearly every place I looked at had bed bug complaints. Now at this point, as far as I thought I knew, I had never slept with a bed bug and I really, really didn't want to start, not ever in my whole life.

All parasites gross me out but bed bugs are the worst - I mean, is anything more disgusting than having bugs crawling over you all night sucking your blood? No, there isn't. A little mosquito buzzing in your ear, micro-bugs surreptitiously living on your scalp or even a quick working leech, they are all parasitic ladies and gentlemen compared with the invasive and crafty bed bug.

So I booked the only place I could find within my budget that didn't seem to have a bed bug problem. It was depressing, windowless, next to the bus station and a few notches below mediocre, but that all seemed OK as long as there were no bugs. I was so tired from traveling when I arrived that I went straight to my room to go to sleep. But wait . . . . what's that in the corner?

It was a tiny beetle-like bug and I was sure it was evil. This was a bed bug, maybe - or maybe not. I had seen computer terminals in the guesthouse lobby so decided I'd bring out the little beast and see if I could ID him online. I'd been traveling for about 30 hours at this point, was dehydrated, hungry and could hardly keep my eyes open but I tried my best to compare the little squirmy guy I had in a napkin with an online picture. He kind of looked like a bed bug and kind of didn't. So I brought him up to the front desk and asked the guy at the counter.

"No," the guy said. "Not a bed bug. We don't have bed bugs here."

OK, cool. So I went to bed.

Now you're probably waiting for the punchline here about how I got brutally mauled during the night, but that didn't happen. I slept peacefully then spent the next two years traveling back and forth to Southeast Asia without incident. During that time I saw dozens of people with severely bitten arms and legs - but I never got bitten, not once. I began to think I was charmed, miraculously getting all the bed bug-free rooms from riding on some groovy travel Zen.

But then it happened: I was on Tioman Island, once again in Malaysia, in a perfectly OK room on the beach. I'd been in the room two days already but the last morning I had to get up in the dark, early morning to catch a boat out. My alarm went off and I turned on the light next to my bed. Bed bugs were everywhere, crawling around the bed, trying to escape up the mosquito net and under my sheet. I almost threw up. I checked myself but I didn't have a single bite. I had slept soundly and hadn't been disturbed by them at all until now.

There was nothing I could do. I quickly wrote a note: "You have a severe bed bug problem in room #4!" and left it at the front desk then went and caught my boat. I felt violated and dirty. While on the boat I called my favorite author buddy Brandon in Borneo who icked and eeewed with me. He decided I just had some weird travel writer gene mutation that made me impervious to bed bug bites - this made me laugh and feel better. When I got home I burned my (luckily old and falling apart) backpack and all my (luckily old and falling apart) clothes.

Who knows how many times I've slept with bed bugs? I now have a permanent case of the creepy crawlies and an annoying habit of waking up at 3am just to turn the light on to make sure the bed is free of blood-suckers.

The new Lonely Planet Malaysia, Singapore & Brunei guide has a whole boxed text dedicated on how to avoid and/or deal with bed bugs - I seriously rallied for this addition. There is also some great info on the web including a very well-informed blog post from Health Conscious Travel that inspired me to write this story. Check it out. Even luxury hotels get bed bugs and it's better to follow protocol than to bring bugs home - the ultimate bug nightmare!

If you're still curious, here's a short video on the bed bug's horrific come back from the perspective of an etymologist and an exterminator cowboy:

My Top 5 Favorite Melaka Restaurants

I might live in Tahiti but my part of my heart is always traipsing around Southeast Asia tracking down great places to eat. Food here at home is pretty bland in comparison to the continent, and there's limited ingredients, so I often drift off into craving dreams about one of my favorite food cities, Melaka Malaysia. I've covered this city for Lonely Planet's Malaysia, Singapore & Brunei, Southeast Asia on a Shoestring and KL, Melaka & Penang guides. My husband hates it when I cover Malaysia because I always come back with a couple extra kilos stuck on my rear.

So here are my top five favorite restaurants, places that make me desperately hungry to buy a plane ticket out of here - at least for a meal.

* Low Yong Mow (Jln Tokong) - It doesn't get much more ambient than this Chinese dim sum breakfast stop located directly across from one of the town's most important mosques. Little English is spoken but you can point to what looks good from the carts pushed around by old Chinese ladies. The pao (pork buns) are Malaysia famous and the best I've tasted.

* Pak Putra (Jln Kota Laksmana)- A humble Pakistani tandoori place with clay ovens and a bunch of plastic tables and chairs out on the sidewalk. It's super busy, and a wonderful place to socialize in the balmy night air with a kick-ass mango lassi and just about any meat or seafood you can imagine cooked to perfection.

* Selvam (Jln Temenggong) - My favorite Indian banana leaf place in the country with a to-die for Friday afternoon vegetarian 10-dish special.

* Nancy's Kitchen (Jln Hang Lekir) - The food here is about on par with the many other Nonya (Malaya and Chinese fusion) places in town, but this restaurant is one of the oldest, is family run and pays special attention to authenticity. The owners are also particularly friendly so you can always expect a nice chat alongside your meal.

* Capitol Satay (Lg Bukit Cina) - You gotta try satay celup, a Melaka specialty a bit like satay steamboat where you cook your own skewers of tofu, meat and veg in bubbling vats of soup. There are a bunch of flashier new places popping up around town but I love this unpretentious, very popular old stalwart.

For a feel for what Melaka city is like on the ground, check out my video on Lonely Planet Television.