Getting My Sarong On

Siem Riep to Bangkok: In Trouble with the Law

2009-06-19T22:25:00.000-07:00

Very early in the morning, after three glorious days in Siem Riep at our wonderful hotel, we prepared to board a bus to the border. Lonely Planet loves to remind you of "Scam Buses" in the area- since the drive to Bangkok is only around six hours, many buses will take you to a border further South, making the six hour trip a twelve hour trip, dropping you in front of their partner guesthouse and assuming that you will be too tired after the journey to look elsewhere.

OR there's a bus that will offer to take care of your Thai visa, so they will charge you the "visa fee" and run your passport through immigration. There is no visa fee, it's always free to enter Thailand, so some people get tricked that way.

We thought we did pretty well when we booked our bus. We made sure it went through the right border and made sure we got the visas ourselves. The plan was: pay for a ticket directly to Bangkok but switch buses at the border. Foolproof, right?

Well, yes. Sort of.

First of all, this guy comes in his car to pick us up at our hotel. Strange, but we've seen strange and weren't put off by it. Another Japanese couple were already in the car.

Second, when we arrived to the bus... not to sound snobbish, but I was just surprised... it was really run down and dumpy looking. We usually paid ten bucks and got a really nice air con bus, so to pay twelve and get this was an unpleasant surprise... more for Pat than me, who has issues with leg room at the best of times. But still! No problem, we're on our way to Bangkok. Nothing will stop us now!

We got on the bus to find throngs of foreigners- only foreigners- already loaded onto the bus with all of our bags piled in the back. Interesting. One always becomes a bit suspicious when they look around and can't find a local. It makes you think that there are much better ways to get where you're going. But even that didn't bother us and we found a seat.

After the bus was filled (over)capacity, we finally got on the dusty road to the border. LP says the road is full of potholes, but it has been fixed since they printed their last guide so it was one of the smoother rides we had. We continued on, having a nice conversation with the last guy to board the bus, who therefore had to sit on the floor by the bus driver. Among the crowd there were some rowdy Dutch who kept the whole bus laughing, a haughty wannabe hippy who spent most of the time on her cellphone talking (loudly) about the great yoga detox she was going to do when she got to Bali, and two women- one with a videocamera who kept filming the every move of her travel buddy, which we thought was strange.

We made our first stop after about two hours, and the driver immediately got out and started eating with the people who owned the place. The Dutch said "Probably extended family".

We hung out for about 30 minutes as children did their rounds, asking everyone for their foreign coins. I haven't quite figured out why they wanted foreign coins, but I was happy to see that they weren't begging and they were actually quite cute. So yeah, I gave them some Thai Baht. One of the older kids ran over to me and tied a piece of coloured string around my wrist as a thank you. Then we were on our way again.

About 15 minutes later, we stopped again. Huh? Why would we stop after only 15 minutes?

"Lunch time" said the bus driver.

It was 10 AM.

The entire bus of foreigners became mutinous.

"We don't want to eat lunch, we want to get to the border!"

"How much longer until we get to the border?"

"We just #%%^&& stopped!"

"We aren't going to spend any money here."

And so on.

The bus driver said, "I don't care if you think it's too early. In Cambodia, it's lunchtime. We are stopping for 30 minutes".

And that was that.

The bus was in an uproar. The wannabe hippy girl suggested we all stay on the bus as a show of solidarity. That lasted for about 5 minutes, when the smokers decided to go out to smoke and everyone else decided to stretch their legs. Ever the "hippy", the girl stubbornly stayed put the entire time. The only person on the bus.

After a time we did, eventually, get to the border. And the crossing was fine, and we waited on the other side for our new bus, thinking "this is Thailnd, no more crappy buses!".

Then, instead of being loaded on a big, air con bus we were shown to two minibuses. OK, whatever. Air con, at least.

However, they never thought about room. They overloaded the bus in Siem Riep, and now there weren't enough seats for all the passengers. After some fiddling around, Pat and I were wedged tightly next to the luggage. Great. Very comfortable.

We were driving for about 20 minutes when our driver got a call on his cellphone.

"Janine MacLean? Canada?"

"Yes...", I said.

"Ah." The driver said something into his cellphone and turned the minibus around, taking us back towrds the border. I was petrified. The driver couldn't speak any English so he just pointed at a passport and made an X with his arms. Something wrong with my passport? Had I been accused of some crime that I didn't do? Did something happen to my family back home? A million things ran through my mind as I mentally prepared to freak out. Pat was looking extremely concerned, the Dutch guy was cracking jokes about me being a terrorist, and the woman (who we found out was filming a documentary about her friend who is very rich and lives in LA and never travelled anything but first class) was videotaping every second of my agony.

We passed by an Army Base where they had all the soldiers out, marching. The Dutch guy said "My God, what did you do?!"

I was very pale. I was terrified. I thought I was going to jail where I would be beaten and, eventually, executed.

We arrived and the stern looking official who stamped my passport looked in the bus and said "Janine MacLean?"

I timidly said "Yes?"

"I need to talk to you. Step outside, please"

My legs were shaking so badly I could barely walk. I made Pat come with me for support. That man was scary.

As I got outside, he broke out into a huge smile.

"Ahhh! Sorry, sorry! I made mistake with your passport! I would be given large penalty for mistake! Thank you for understanding!"

I was torn between hugging him and punching him in the face. That was one of the scariest ordeals of my life. And for nothing! Apparently, he had given me a 60 day visa by accident, when I was technically only allowed in the country for 14 days.

He said, "I understand you are leaving in two days, but I needed to make sure to fix my mistake. Thank you for understanding and I hope you visit our country again".

Wow! Hilarious. First of all, how did he know I was leaving? Maybe he called the airport to ask when my departure date was? Who knows. Second of all, he would have been in serious trouble if I had overstayed my 14 day allowance. So ends the terror and so ends my last real adventure on the trip.

We arrived in Bangkok early that evening, and got ourselves a hotel. We did some shopping on Khao San Rd., and the next day we went to the fancy business and shopping centre of the city, where we though Pat might find some shows that actually fit him (nonexistent in Korea).

We arrived at the airport right on schedule, I took some valium to quell my fears, and before we could blink we were back in Korea. Our trip was over. So, so sad.

Siem Riep: Amazing Hotels, Amazing History

2009-06-09T03:54:00.000-07:00

So, we almost cried when we discovered that all of our Siem Riep pictures, minus the cooking class, would be forever lost. OK, I cried a little bit. That meant losing our Angkor Wat pictures and the pictures I was planning to use to boast about the awesome hotel we stayed in! Very sad, indeed, but I have a vivid memory of our time in Siem Riep- it was my favourite place that we visited in Cambodia.

We took a very long bus ride from the South in Sihanoukville to Siem Riep, which is more to the Northwest. We hadn't heard great things about the road to Siem Riep, and sure enough, it was bumpy and I got a bit motion sick. No biggie.

So here's the thing about buses in Cambodia: some of them stop every five minutes for bathroom breaks and refreshments, while some... well... drive for eight hours straight with no such stops. In the defense of our bus driver, there was only one place on the entire way that was decent to stop in, and he did stop- for five minutes. I barely got back from the bathroom in time!

The real issue of the day was the fact that Pat and I, being used to the buses that stop every five minutes, failed to bring any snacks with us. We were ravenous when we arrived in Siem Riep eight hours later. Funny enough, when we switched buses in Phnom Penh (all roads lead to the capital) a nice young man who worked for the travel company helped me with my bag and asked me if I wanted his friend to pick us up in a tuk tuk when we arrived. If this had been two months ago I would have told him to leave me alone (please). However, we had been on the road a long time and we were tired. I said sure. Why not. I know he'll just try to take us to a guest house that will give him a cut of the profits, but I would rather that than have to haggle with a non-English speaking tuk tuk driver. So I gave the guy my name.

Sure enough, when we arrived in Siem Riep, there were two young men holding a sign with my name on it. I forgot to tell Pat I had given the guy in Phnom Penh my name, so he was pretty surprised by the royal treatment we were receiving. We asked them to take us to a place we found in the Lonely Planet, but actually, they were able to really convince us- not because we were tired, but because they knew what they were talking about- to go to a locally owned guest house. It's true! All LP ever recommends are foreign owned businesses! Not fair. We decided to go see what the guys had to offer... and ... oh my God is all I can say. What a beautiful guesthouse.

Our room was pretty much poolside, with a nice little patio, air conditioning, cable, hot shower... mini bar... everything you could want for 20 bucks a night. And since it was our last place before going back to Korea, we splurged and were glad. The pool was surrounded by a beautiful, lush tropical garden and the pool itself was just gorgeous. We were a five minute walk away from the famous night market and "Pub Street", and we liked the look of this touristy, but still Cambodian town.

We arranged with the tuk tuk guys to take us around Angkor the next day... at 5:30 AM, to see the sunrise. We went to Pub Street and had Shepard's Pie and Angkor beer for dinner. Very satisfying.

The next morning, we got up early and our tuk tuk dude was already waiting for us. It was 5 AM but it was already hot. It was rainy season in Cambodia but that just means 23 hours of pure, hot sunlight and 1 hour of torrential downpour- if that.

The temples of Angkor are spread over about 15 kilometres (from the most famous to the most remote). The most famous temples are, of course, Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom (which is really a bunch of temples and was once the capital city of Angkor) and Ta Prohm- which is famous among travellers as the building that trees started growing around and on top of, and famous among everyone else as the temple in Lara Croft: Tombraider (I think- I've never seen it myself...).

We bought a one day pass for 20 bucks and went to Angkor Wat to see the sun rise. Angkor Wat is considered the largest ever religious building... or something like that. Anyway, you need to cross the moat before you even see it. It's huge. The moat itself is huge! We sat and watched the sunrise and then wandered around the temple. Every boy tourist (Patrick included) kept whistling the Indiana Jones theme song. It was amusing and annoying all at the same time.

After Angkor Wat we were supposed to go to Angkor Thom, but we couldn't find our tuk tuk driver. Eventually we found him napping in a corner. Tuk tuks, or at least, bikes, are necessary in order to see the different temples. I think I read somewhere that Angkor was the biggest pre-industrial city ever discovered, so the temples are very spread out. Ankgor Thom was cool. We had to pass through the city gates and then, everywhere you look, there are piles of stones, ruins and well preserved buildings of the old city. We found out that Angkor flourished until the Thais sacked it and whoever was left fled and re-established a new capital in Phnom Penh. No one remembered Angkor until it was discovered in the 1900's by a Frenchman. Then they started trying to put everything back together. Then the Khmer Rouge came into power and destroyed all historical records and documents, so after they fell no one could remember where the stones were supposed to go. Also, they mined the area really heavily, so that had to be taken care of.

After Angkor Thom we went to the famous Ta Prohm temple, which was really a monestary! It's funny, Angkor started out as, I believe, a polytheistic society. Then they turned Hindu, and finally they were Buddhist. The artwork carved into the buildings is a mixture. It tells stories of great wars, of bare breasted dancers (they say the Thais took the dancers with them and that's where Thai dance has it's roots) and then there are Buddha's and Krishnas everywhere. It's great. Ta Prohm was amazing. It's crazy how the trees are holding the building together!

There was much more to see, but we were exhausted and all templed out. It was getting very hot and I could hear the pool calling my name, so we went back happily to our hotel where we swam, relaxed and had lunch. Lovely.

The next day we took a Khmer cooking class at a restaurant on Pub Street. It was fun, as our cooking classes always are! We cooked alongside an American Philippino couple who actually live in Korea and work as nurses on the American base in Yongsan (Seoul). Too wierd! They were really nice and we enjoyed a nice lunch together afterward. The four of us all made different dishes and shared. I made Amok, which is sort of like a curry, but with a different, more Cambodian paste. Sarah made a curry, her boyfriend made a stir fry, and Patrick made LocLac- Cambodian steak (very yummy). We all made salads- I made mango, Pat made banana flower and the couple made a papaya salad and spring rolls. Great lunch!

After lunch I thought I would treat myself to a mani-pedi. My first one, ever. And it cost me 12 bucks (for both). Very relaxing. After that, a swim and a smoothie and some BBC Newsworld, we hit the town!

Back on Pub Street we had a nice dinner and several glasses of wine and beer. Then we hit the night market. I loved it! The stuff wasn't as nice as the night market in Luang Prabang, but there lots of great dresses and we got a hammock and some scarves and some little ornaments. And then we found Dr. Fish! Yet another Korean installment! Of course we had a go, and I asked if the fish came from China (I knew that would be the first question asked by my Korean friends- no dirty Chinese fish, please! For whatever reason...). Of course the man running the pool said no! These are clean fish from Europe! A fish is a fish if you ask me, but I have fun teasing my Korean friends about their inherent racism towards China... and Japan... and almost everywhere else...

We didn't want to leave, and I certainly didn't want to go to Bangkok because I hate flying and the closer we got to Bangkok the closer we got to flying... but we were up bright and early the next day, ready for anything. We would be in Bangkok later that afternoon...

After we cooked our meals they were brought out so we could dine al fresco.

Pat, concentrating on making the perfect LocLac.

Ready to plate it up.

Us, our cooking companions and our teacher with our works of art.

Stirring up my Amok. I made this one with chicken, but it can also be made with fresh water fish.

Pat's banana flower salad in the foreground and my mango salad in the background. Both delicious!

Ingredients for Banana Flower Salad. After shredding the banana flower, Pat had to soak it in lemon for about 15 minutes. On the plate you can see sweet basil and shredded carrot.

Getting ready to pound up my curry paste.

Curry Paste ingredientsL lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, fresh root turmeric, small red chillis, galangal ginger, garlic and shrimp paste.

Mango salad ingredients: sweet basil (ribboned), shredded carrot and shredded mango. Easy!

For my Amok? Onion, oyster mushrooms, chicken and tamarind leaf (I think?).

LocLac ingredients: zucchini, tomato, beef and onion. And chillies.

Slicin'

The first thing we saw when we came in. Glorious!

Fresh produce at the market.

The fishmongers just sat on their tables.

Hard at work.

Of course, we had to try some crickets. They tasted really nutty, and actually yummy, but I gagged when I tried to swallow their legs and my throat got tickled.

Plenty of stuff for sale.

Sick in Sihanoukville

2009-06-08T00:42:00.000-07:00

On our last day in Phnom Penh, we spent a bit more time at the orphanage and relaxed around the lake district. We had bus tickets that would leave first thing in the morning for the beach destination of Sihanoukville- like, the only beach destination in all of Cambodia.

Again, I truly wish I had my own pictures to show you, but I found some that will do the trick on google images. I hope I don't get sued.

The plan was: get there as fast as possible, skip the party town and trashy beaches in Sihanoukville town, and head straight for Bamboo Island. We had been told by everyone who had been there previous that, while Sihanoukville was a bit trashy, Bamboo Island was pure paradise. And I wanted a little more paradise before I had to get on a plane once again.

So, we woke up early, had a breakfast of meusli and, in Pat's case milk, in my case yoghurt. This was going to work to my benefit later in the day. For all you people planning a trip to Southeast Asia: milk is generally a bad idea if you aren't used to it unpasteurized. In any case, we arrived in Sihanoukville and Pat wasn't feeling the greatest. In fact, he didn't leave our room for the next three days. The downside: we couldn't go to Bamboo Island (I cried a little). The upside? Pat didn't spend his daily budget of 20 bucks on food or fun, so we got to use it on a lovely hotel with a pool. That kept me occupied for our time there. Cable TV kept Pat occupied.

I did get to look around the town, and it wasn't as bad as everyone told me. Ya, ya, there are big parties every night, ya ya, the beach has a bit of a litter problem, but seriously, it was a cute little town full of sweet, friendly and polite Cambodians- quickly becoming one of my favourite nationalities. And, yeah, the food wasn't exactly authentic Cambodian fare, but it was some of the best western fare I found in all of Southeast Asia, so I wasn't exactly complaining. I would return. I hope I get to, someday.

This is Bamboo Island. Le sigh. I was supposed to go here.

This is the lovely little resort where we stayed for 20 dollars a night! A steal, if you ask me. The pool was fun.

And this is the beach we were closest to. It's called Serendipity Beach. I'm wondering how they got the photo sans trash.

Tuol Sleng Prison and The Killing Fields: Phnom Penh

2009-06-07T23:12:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been awhile and, indeed, I am back in Korea and not even travelling abroad anymore! I still have so much to tell about our trip, though, and should be blogging for another month or so to make sure I have all my memories put into words. After all, this is the first extended backpacking trip of many more to come- and we haven't done The Philippines yet, which still falls under the Southeast Asia blog, so stay tuned for that!

When I last left you, Pat and I had spent a wonderful two days with the kids at SCAO, teaching and learning and playing and generally having a very good time with those wonderful kids. We all know that Cambodia is considered one of the poorest countries in Southeast Asia, and despite all the investment from other Asian countries, it still has a long way to go to get back to what it was pre-Khmer Rouge, and pre-Vietnam war (because, yes, the Americans bombed the hell out of Cambodia and inadvertently caused the Khmer Rouge to come into power, but we're not going to dwell on that for now).

Something we will dwell on? How about the fact that in Siem Riep we lost our memory card with nearly all of our pictures of Cambodia on it. How about that. Because Patrick and I are very upset that we lost our Phnom Penh, Sihanoukville and Siem Riep pictures save the orphanage pictures I had already uploaded onto the blog. It's very sad, because Cambodia was one of my favourite countries (my second favourite, to be exact, but more on that later). In any case, I will continue with our stories and hope that my words paint a bright enough picture. So here is our other Phnom Penh story- our history lesson and reality check story concerning Tuol Sleng Prison and the Killing Fields.

After spending the morning with the kids at the orphanage, we hired a tuk-tuk driver (15$ for about 5 hours) to take us about 45 minutes away to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields, and then to Tuol Sleng Prison- the place where prisoners were held, tortured and questioned before being sent to said Killing Fields. This experience was sobering to say the least, and I am going to try and recount every single thing we learned that day without exception, but that being said, I'm not going to detach my personal experience. I cried. It was horrible. And unfair. And the worst thing that could ever happen to such a beautiful, proud people. I just kept thinking how lucky I was to live in Canada, and how it could have so easily been my mugshot on display. And I felt guilty, too.

When we arrived at the Choeung Ek Killing Fields, the first thing we saw was a great pagoda. As we approached the pagoda, we saw that it was full of human skulls. It was quite large, and it was filled to the absolute brim with human skulls, clothing found in the trenches, and jawbones that had no corresponding skull. These skulls were just some of the victims of Pol Pot's regime. Many human bones are still embedded in the trenches. Excavation at the Killing Fields began after the regime collapsed in 1979 and it was discovered that over 8000 executions look place at Choeung Ek alone.

In total, the Khmer Rouge executed about 200,000 Cambodians. They targeted officials from the previous governments, intellectuals (aka, teachers, people who spoke other languages, people with glasses...), Buddhist Monks and ethnic minorities (mostly Chinese Cambodians and Thai Cambodians). While they executed these people, millions more died from exhaustion and starvation over the four year attempt at a perfect, agrarian reformation. Those executed would have been the ones to get the country back on it's feet when the Vietnamese liberated Cambodia in 1979, but instead the UN allowed the Khmer Rouge to represent Cambodia in the UN for many years afterward- many of them uneducated, with no political experience or know how.

I get the feeling that the Khmer people value education now more than anything else because they understand how disastrous it can be to let untrained, uneducated people be the "doctors", the "lawyers" or the "teachers". These are things we take for granted in Canada. Of course we would never let an uneducated person become a doctor, but what about a politician? Who knows where the next Pol Pot will come from, and for this reason, we need to remember the atrocities committed by his regime and never let it happen again. Let's not forget, Pol Pot was originally a school teacher himself (not to mention, from an ethnic Chinese family).

As we walked around the trenches, there were signs explaining exactly how the executions took place. At one tree we were informed that there had been sound effects inserted into the branches so those waiting for execution couldn't hear the screams of their fellow prisoners. At another tree we learned that children were beaten against the trunk- yet another way for the Khmer Rouge to save bullets. They killed the adults with hammers, sharpened bamboo or knives. It was a truly chilling experience. How could this ever happen?

We returned to the tuk-tuk and our driver, who looked to be in his sixties, took us to Tuol Sleng prison. I wondered how he survived the war. He was our driver for the two days we spent in Phnom Penh, and he was a sweet man, but obviously spoke no English. It just made me remember that every Cambodian has their story, no matter what side of the regime they were on.

Tuol Sleng prison was originally a high school in Phnom Penh. It is one of the more famous buildings associated with the Khmer Rouge, although there were many places of torture and imprisonment around the country. Tuol Sleng, or S-21 as it is otherwise known, saw nearly 20,000 Cambodian civilians questioned, tortured and sent to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. The former classrooms were turned into cells or torture chambers. As one walks through the complex one can see the instruments used to torture victims and then move on to see the faces of those tortured during their time there.

Often they were questioned as to what their previous life was like- what their profession was, who their father was, whether they supported the former government. Often they would be tortured into giving the names and locations of their extended family members so that they, too would be executed. The prison was turned into a museum after the collapse of the Khmer Rouge and it is-rightly so- shocking and, at times, gruesome. This embodies the Khmer Rouge regime.

The most difficult part was looking at the mugshots taken of the prisoners before they were questioned. While the Khmer Rouge were very good at destroying the historical records of their country before "Year Zero", they were ironically fastidious in keeping their own records. These records are now on display for the world to see. In 1979, mere minutes after the Khmer Rouge officials fled the prison, a Vietnamese soldier ran through the building and took the photos of prisoners who were left in the middle of torture or interrogation.

The pictures were disturbing. The expressions on the faces of these people are etched in my mind forever. Some looked as though they knew they were going to die. They looked frightened, or resigned or defiant. And then there were those who seemed to have no idea of what was about to happen. They were smiling at the camera. The mugshots of the children were the hardest to look at, especially after spending the morning at the orphanage. These kids didn't look scared. Many were not crying. But in their eyes you could see that they were thinking "You're supposed to take care of me. You're not supposed to be doing this. Even I know better than you, and I'm three". It was the saddest exhibit in the museum, and I won't say I didn't choke down my sobs.

As you progress through the museum, you can read the stories of some of the prisoners- why they were captured, when they were killed, etc.

In another area you can read the stories of those who were members of the Khmer Rouge and why they joined the regime. Many were scared of the regime and worked hard to prove they were as ruthless as the regime's leader. Their stories were touching.

Patrick was reading about a Scandanavian journalist who came to Cambodia during the regime and had the wool pulled over his eyes by the Khmer Rouge. He went back to his home country and wrote about the wonderful things the Khmer Rouge were doing for their country. Only after the truth came out did he realize that there were no patients in the brand new hospitals he was being shown and that he had been fed a pack of lies by the regime. Now, one of the exhibits recounts his first impression of the Khmer Rouge and his impression after he found out he had been lied to.

Tuol Sleng really is the best, most heart wrenching museum I've ever been to. It is the best because it transports you back to 1975. It is heart wrenching because, through it all, it shows the resiliance of the Khmer people. I'll never forget it.

Bored in Phnom Penh? Why not volunteer with SCAO for a few days.

2009-05-24T03:33:00.000-07:00

We knew all along that we wanted to do some volunteer work once we got to Cambodia- like I said before, it has many more opportunities than anywhere else in Southeast Asia for the Average Joe to do some good.

We stayed at Simon II Guesthouse in Phnom Penh, and on the wall I noticed a photocopied notice asking for volunteer English Teachers at a local orphanage (well, not local- seven km from Phnom Penh in the dusty village of Boeng Chhouk, but still fairly close). Unlike many orphanages that offer little more than scams to the average backpacker, Pat and I had a good feeling about this one (although we remained skeptical until we arrived- it was definitely a gamble).

The owner of our guesthouse helped us arrange a tuk-tuk for the day and, without making a reservation and without any outsider's knowledge about this place, off we went to buy a bag of rice as a gift and play with the kids.

When I pictured an orphanage in Cambodia, I pictured lots of babies for some reason. I pictured an institution, maybe established long ago by French nuns and now run by Cambodians, with a backyard and a playroom, I pictured kids screeching with happiness upon the arrival of visitors, and I pictured making such a connection with one child that it would be difficult for me to leave it at the orphanage. And I pictured it being a one day thing.

Well, out of all my imaginings, only one was correct. When we arrived at the small building made out of plywood and surrounded by a blue gate, the children ran up screeching happily to greet us. The orphanage houses about 17 children and teenagers and really focuses on their education. The Save Children in Asia Organization had just begun 16 months before we arrived, and Pat and I were not the only foreigners there.

They were housing four English teachers from Europe when we arrived and, by coincidence, our friend Jes who we had met in Laos was also volunteering there for one class a day- very strange to run into her like that! That meant, including Pat and I, the total number of teachers numbered seven.

A few months prior, a foreigner had helped them build an outdoor schoolhouse and classes were being held four times a day for all the children at the orphanage plus all of the children in the village. Pat and I agreed to take a class for the next day, had a talk with one of the senior teenagers living in the orphanage (who wants to be a teacher) and promised to come back the following day.

The next day we arrived and met with the director of the orphanage, Mr. Samith, who runs the orphanage with his wife. I was amazed at their relationship with the children living at the orphanage. It was more like Mr. and Mrs. Samith adopted these kids instead of putting them up for adoption (they are not really up for adoption; their parents could simply not afford to keep them). The kids behave as if Mr. and Mrs. Samith were their real parents, and indeed, they fought and cried and behaved as if they were all one big family. It was great to see such a stable environment for the kids.

Although they are clearly lacking in adequate housing and docations of food are always needed and appreciated, the kids want for nothing. They have plenty of playtime, they go to school, they all eat together and watch cartoons together, and they're happy.

The orphanage takes in those who want to volunteer for five dollars a night- including three yummy Cambodian meals a day (believe me, with what little they have they can serve up a tasty lunch), so if you're interested in volunteering just follow the link on my blog and you can stay there, too.

I spoke with Mr. Samith about fundraising and got some ideas for when I go home. I know that Pat and I will continue to support the orphanage every year, but if we could raise enough money each year to help put one of the senior kids through university or an apprenticeship it would be even better. And it doesn't cost very much to put a kid through university here- maybe 500$ total?

After meeting with Mr. Samith we taught our class. The kids were really great! We taught two pages from their textbook and got them to understand what a verb, or an "action" is by playing some games and practising. I taught them how to play "Zip, Zap, Zop"and we all had a great time- even Mrs. Samith, who sits in on the lessons to learn English as well.

So if all you can think of doing in Phnom Penh is eat and get (I hate to say it) high... again... why not put the doob down and take some time to play with the kids. You'll be glad you did :)

PS: To my Mom: I don't smoke doobs. That was hypothetical. Phnom Penh is famous for doobs.

Pat and Lee: the only boys.

I kinda love Lee. What a kid. The girls have better English, but I have never seen a seven year old with a brighter attitude!

Mr. Samith and three of his kids.

The youngest child (two) liked hitting Pat with plastic bottles and stealing important documents.

Lee! Best kid ever!

Checking up on assignments.

The brand spanking new bathroom.

The kids and Mrs. Samith, hard at work.

Playing some games during breaktime.

The zip, zap, zop championship finals.

The youngest little girl with her favourite puppy (they have four puppies and several grown dogs that they're trying to find homes for).

Escaping the mid-day heat in the laundry tub. Cute.

Thanks to this map, the kids really know their geography.

Profiles of all the kids at the orphanage- the oldest ones have information on what they want to study and how much it should cost to sponser their education.

Daily and monthly costs of food.

One of their true orphans. The dogs here break my heart!

One of the oldest kids giving Pat the run down.

She took us around and showed us the school on our first visit.

The nicest 13 year old you will ever meet.

And finally, the bag of rice that I couldn't lift. Great experience; highly recommended.

Phnom Penh: Dusty and Hot... and Awesome.

2009-05-21T00:43:00.001-07:00

We left Saigon at around 3 PM, and were assured that we would be in Phnom Penh a mere six hours later- border crossing included! That sounded almost too good to be true since we spent about 2 or 3 hours at the Laos/Vietnam border, but still, we went with it.

From Saigon it takes about 2 hours to get to the border. While on the bus (12$ US) one of the attendants asked us for our passports. He took every passport on the bus, filled out our arrival and departure cards, took the 25$ US for our Cambodian Visa and did *absolutely everything* for us. All we had to do was pass through to show the border officials that we were the same person as in the passport. It was the easiest and fastest border crossing. Ever. I totally recommend the bus.

When you arrive in Cambodia you don't see any poverty. You see a lot of casinos. A lot. Right at the border.

Our bus stopped just outside the border and we had our first Khmer meal. It was pretty yummy, actually, considering I had heard mediocre things about Cambodian cooking (same as Thailand, only bland, apparently). Their curries (amok) are quite sweet with pineapple. I didn't like that so much. But they made a delicious pork and egg soup that I enjoyed pouring over my rice, and their meat and stir fries were great, too. I think a lot of the food catered to tourists is mediocre, but this backroads place was pretty great!

We arrived in Phnom Penh at about 9:30 PM. We're getting used to busses dropping us off in the middle of nowhere, outside of the cities or in front of a guesthouse that gives the bus company money, so while we were prepared we still lucked out since we met two Australian girls who were living in Phnom Penh for several weeks, volunteering at a hospital. I've noticed that expats here generally work for an NGO or have drug/sex addictions. And then there are the perfectly normals ones who just love the country and the people.

Anyway, the Australian girls offered to share a tuktuk with us, and we were relieved, because you never know how much it should cost to get somewhere, which means you never know if you're getting ripped off. It was much easier to just follow the girls to their guesthouse.

Most of the good guesthouses in Phnom Penh are located in a place called the "Lake District". It is full of backpackers, full of restaurants, and full of people trying to sell you stuff. It's a bit hard to find, so again we were lucky to have the girls show us around. The guesthouse we wanted to stay in was full, so we stayed at a very cheap and slightly sketchy guesthouse until the next morning, when we moved into the air conditioned, cable TV room that we've gotten so used to renting since Vietnam. We ate breakfast and then hired a tuktuk driver for the day.

The city was once known as the "Pearl of Asia" and since the Khmer Rouge days it has started to fall apart, piece by piece. The French colonial buildings still stand, and they are beautiful, but most are in desperate need of paint and plaster. I remembered from the books I read by Khmer Rouge survivors that some of the best memories the authors had as small children included sitting with their Dads in the evening on their apartment's balcony, watching the world go by.

Driving through the wide boulevards of Phnom Penh, I could almost see what the city was like in her glory days, which families out socializing, sitting out on their balconies and eating in the restaurants. Today the people still smile and they continue to make a living, but you can see the remnants of war sketched on everyone's face. I think it will still take a few generations to heal the wounds of the Khmer Rouge. Forget the current trials- most of the people involved are corrupt government officials and, many, former Khmer Rouge, but the people of Cambodia are so resiliant and I really love their country.

As someone recently told me, Cambodia's economy is growing thanks to the investments of other Asian countries- namely, Korea! You see Korean busses and businesses everywhere here, and plenty of signs are translated into Korean as well. Who knows what Korea's motive really is, but I like to think that they, more than most countries, understand what it's like to strengthen your economy after war, so I think it's cool that they've taken an interest in Cambodia.

Indeed, there are lots of ways to get involved in community projects here, moreso than anywhere else in Southeast Asia. NGO's, volunteer projects, orphanages, fair trade- the possibilities of doing some good are endless in this country, but you should do your homework before you think about volunteering. Lots of "projects"and "organizations"here are really just tourist traps- you spend money on something you think is worthwhile, but your money just goes into some businessman's pocket. We really lucked out when we volunteered at our orphanage... more on that later!

Of course, no visit to Phnom Penh is complete without witnessing the atrocities the Khmer Rouge commited during their regime of terror in the 1970's. It''s difficult to see, but I think it's one's duty as a human being to see what can happen when the wrong person comes into power and always remember. I often wonder where the governments of our great countries of the West were while the Khmer Rouge were killing millions of their own people. I mean, I know they were secretive about it, but wouldn't you start to wonder what was going on when an entire capital city is cleared of people, all foriegners are expelled and the currency is obliterated? I suppose there's a lot about this time that I don't understand, but walking down the streets of Phnom Penh and seeing seeing people in Cambodian villages you can tell that the war is still affecting them, and the form the war has taken today is poverty.

That being said, so far Cambodia has been a great country and everywhere you look there are new businesses, developments and wonderful people. Those living in rural or poverty stricken areas no longer want your charity; they want their children to have an education and have the same chance in life as other children. Giving in to children begging on the street or trying to sell you trinkets in frowned upon, and Cambodians now ask you not to support this kind of thing. There are other, better ways you can help.

I think everyone should come to Cambodia. This country is amazing! The kids are wonderful, the food is wonderful, the hospitality is top notch and the stories people have will melt your heart and bring tears to your eyes. You'll never forget this place once you visit.

Pictures coming soon!

Hoi An and Saigon

2009-05-18T05:38:00.001-07:00

After Sapa, Pat and I prepared ourselves for a long train ride and a much warmer climate than we had been experiencing in the south. We were taking one train to Hanoi from the border town of Lao Cai *an hour away by bus from Sapa) and from Hanoi we were catching another train allllll the way below the old DMZ line to the small city of Hoi An. Why go to Hoi An? For the culture, sure, but mostly we were going for some tailor made- cheaper than you can get in Canada-custom fit clothes. Like every other foreigner in Hoi An.

So our first task was to hop the bus from Sapa to Lao Cai. There are busses everywhere in Sapa so it should be easy, right? No.

We got on a bus, no problem there. And the bus driver knew we had a train to catch, he did. And we proceeded to drive in a circle around the town of Sapa until we picked up more passengers. I went from nervous to frightful to furious in a mere forty minutes. Finally, after the ten thousandth loop around the small town, we raised our voices a smidgen. Then we got one more passenger and the bus driver made us get out and get on another bus which had more people. I nervously checked the clock: it read 7:40 AM. Our train was due to leave at 9. And it was still an hour to drive to the train station. Ugh.

So we were finally on our way, packed tightly in a slightly falling apart mini bus, and I cursed the fact that there were no guard rails down the winding, one lane road. When we arrived in Lao Cai, we ran to the train station, scared to death that we had missed our train, and were met by three people: one girl behind the counter who had no idea what I was going on about, an older woman who kept saying "It's ok, it's ok" and a frowning younger man who kept replying "NOT ok, NOT ok". Apparently they didn't recognise the ticket I had. The man phoned the number on our ticket and remained frowning. The older woman kept reassuring us that everything was ok and we had not missed our train, and the girl behind the counter continued to chew her gum sullenly.

Finally the man said "Ok, ok" and exchanged our first ticket for a proper train ticket. The woman told us their wasn't any food on the train and took Pat to a place where he could get a baguette. While Pat was gone, I profusely thanked the man, who I assumed worked for the train station, for helping us.

"Ah, no problem", he frowned.

Then he said: "Are you going to give me something for my trouble?"

I was taken aback. I said "What?"

He said, "You know, I don't work here, I am just working for myself. Give me some money for what I did".

Not knowing what else to say, I replied "My boyfriend has all the money".

When Patrick got back, I whispered that the guy wanted money from us. Pat, who was hurrying me to the train, told me to forget about it, he was a jerk and he scared us when he shouldn't have. We started to run for the train and the guy trailed after us:

"Hey! What about me?!"

I replied that he never informed us about his "business" beforehand and he wasn't getting a cent. And my faith in humanity was shaken.

I told Pat that at least the older woman was kind to us. Patrick replied sarcastically, "Yeah. She made me go to her store to buy food. She didn't work for the train station either".

How depressing.

The train ride was very uncomfortable. Apparently when the Vietnamese say you booked a "hard seat" they literally mean a wooden bench. For about 11 hours. My bum's faith in humanity was shaken that day, as well. But the locals on the bus were great fun. They would just take our stuff without asking, looking through our books, playing with our playing cards, looking at the pictures on our postcards and laughing. It's like we were all old friends. A man who sold tea would sit down next to us and say we were like his children. That was sweet.

When we finally arrived in Hanoi we had a few hours to kill. I suggested that, if the hard seats were really that hard, then the hard sleepers would probably be absolute hell, as that is what we planned to sleep on en route to Hoi An (our train left at 11 and was due to arrive the next day around noon). We tried to get some soft sleepers but to no avail, and we ate a fattening meal at Lotteria (Korea's version of McDonald's, spread all around Asia) and had a beer at what appeared to be an upscale brothel. Finally we boarded our train and discovered, to our delight, that the hard sleepers actually have cushioning. Excellent. I fell asleep immediately.

The next day, after training through some beautiful seaside landscapes, we arrived in the city of Danang (a bus ride away from Hoi An). We forgot what the weather in the rest of Southeast Asia was like: unbearably hot! We didn't want to pay 10 American dollars to get to Hoi An by car, so we opted for the public bus, which we were told was only 10,000 dong (75 cents) per person. When we got on the bus, the ticket man demanded 50,000 dong from us. We said no, and he kicked us off at the following stop. We waited for the next bus, and they didn't try to overcharge us (although I handed her 10,000 dong extra, just in case).

We arrived in Hoi An and Pat found a great place with a pool and cable for just 12 bucks a night. Yay. We spent the next two days having fitting after fitting, picking out fabrics and eating clay pot pork with rice. Then we took the train once again on our way to Saigon!

Note: the dude on our bus back to Danang tried to overcharge us as well, but luckily I still had our tickets from the last bus that clearly said "10,000 dong from Hoi An to Danang". The ticket guy knew he was had, and to make him appear that he had not lost face we stayed quiet and simply handed him our fare. It's important for Asians never to lose face.

On the train to Saigon, I got cheated twice more by a guy that a) tried to show us to our car (which was clearly number four. I can count.) and then demanded money for helping us and b) a guy who served us a meal on the train and never gave me back my change, shaking his head and smiling and then quickly walking away. I mean, none of this would have cost us much, but it was the principle of the whole thing that made me very angry!

We arrived in Saigon at around 6 AM. We found a taxi that was honest and he took us to the backpacker district where we found some good accomodation. Pat wanted to go to the Cu Chi Tunnels, where the Vietnamese hid from the Americans during the "American War", as they call it, but I was tired and found that we had Discovery Travel and Living included in our cable. Hmmm, tunnels, or all of my favourite cooking shows that I haven't seen in ages? Easy!

Pat went to tht tunnels and had a great time, while I ate a great breakfast and watched Anthony Bourdain... and had a great time. When he got back we went to the War Museum, which was a sobering experience with very graphic images (but was surpisingly neutral in it's content! They talked about how both sides were affected by the war, not just the Vietnamese) and then proceeded to have some of the best ice cream I've had in three months before heading back. We left the next day on a bus bound for Phnom Penh, which is a mere six hour drive from Saigon. Goodbye, Vietnam! You're a wonderful country with some people that infuriate me, but I have no hard feelings.

The mean streets of Saigon.

Pat in his new suit, a la Toto Tailors in Hoi An.

Me, trying to sleep on the sleeper train to Danang. The view was too nice to nap, though.

The sandwich stand that dreams are made of... Pate Baguettes! Thank God they have them in Cambodia, too!

Outside the War Museum in Saigon.

Peace paintings by the children of Saigon: The War Museum

Clearly the Cu Chi Tunnels were not made with Patrick in mind.

Who keeps these darn bombs lying around?!

A typical Cu Chi Tunnel room. Uncle Ho: you the man.

Pat is like a kid in a candy store.

Images of victims of the "American War".

I wouldn't want to be a victim of these guy. Would you?

I got softhearted on some kid that looked like my brother Rory and bought this dragonfly that defies gravity. See how it rests on my glasses?

My new winter coat.

Sapa made me Cheat on my Island

2009-05-16T23:32:00.000-07:00

After Halong Bay, we didn't want to waste any time in Hanoi before heading straight to the former hill station town of Sapa, which is located in Northern Vietnam (extremely close to the Chinese border). Like the rest of Vietnam, Sapa was under the control of the French for quite a long time and the buildings in the town of Sapa are very French in style. Combine this with the looming mountains that surround the town and the vast sheet of impenetrable fog that rolls in at around noon every day, and you can almost make yourself believe that you aren't in Vietnam at all, but have instead stumbled into some European fairy tale town in the Alps. Needless to say, I enjoyed Sapa immensely.

From Hanoi we took a night bus that would drop us off in the town of Lao Cai early in the morning. From Lao Cai it is a climbing, one lane, winding and very scary 30 kilometres to the top of the mountain and the town of Sapa. The bus was very comfortable- air conditioned, fully reclining seats, blankets and a pillow provided- but it was almost impossible for anyone to sleep because of the booming Vietnamese pop music that the driver refused to turn down for more than five minutes at a time. Not a huge deal for me, I took half a xanax and managed some shut eye. My friends and Patrick were not so lucky, and as soon as we arrived in Sapa we made for the cheapest and most comfortable beds to be found and didn't get up til noon.

The cheapest beds in town, it would turn out, were great value for the price we paid! I'm beginning to see in Vietnam that, as far as guesthouses go, you pay for exactly what you get. For 8 US dollars a night, Patrick and I got a cozy double room with the hottest shower yet (the fog chills you right to the bone in Sapa, making very hot showers necessary), a TV with cable and an amazing view of the terraced fields that line the valleys below. It was wonderful.

At lunchtime we met up with Gen and Scott, famished as we were. Scott wanted to try some special Sapa pho which is just a spiced up chili version of regular pho (Vietnamese noodle soup). We made our way through the market, past the dead carcasses of former animals, past the screamingly fresh produce and with two small hilltribe girls following us the whole way. They weren't annoying. Actually, they were well spoken and quite witty, for the little English their mother's taught them in order to sell trinkets.

"You buy something?", one would ask.

Gen and I would shake our heads and smile at them.

The little girls would smile back brilliantly and give a little laugh, knowing full well that they were already wrapped around our little fingers. It was only a matter of time before Gen or I would break down and buy one of their little silver bracelets.

They took their time, didn't rush us, but never strayed too far away. Whenever we would see them, watching us from afar, we would laugh and they would smile at us and give a knowing little wave.

We made our way to the eating area of the market, saw that all of the stalls sold the same thing, picked one at random and got some pho and fried rice for lunch. The pork was fresh and, like the other pork we would see, the skin was a bright red from whatever spices they cure it with. The woman at our stall made the best pho I have ever tasted. The cilantro was fresh and not overpowering, the rice noodles were perfectly cooked and the pork was all meat- no grit or bones top be found. The rice was delicious as well, with a sprinkling of lime juice and a garnish of cilantro. When the woman handed us the chili sauce that one gets with every Vietnamese meal, however, I misjudged the power of her homemade concoction since I'm used to putting tabasco on everything and use chili sauce instead of ketchup. I put the same amount of her chili sauce that I would normally use with regular bottled chili sauce and ended up breathing fire. But it was all good.

Of course, the little girls were waiting for us while we ate and I finally broke down, buying one bracelet from each little girl, giving them one American dollar each. No problem, since Patrick has two small neices that the bracelets will fit perfectly. The little girls were very grateful and gave Gen and I two little homemade bracelets that look like the friendship bracelets I would make as a kid. I've been wearing mine around my ankle ever since. I don't usually give in to the pressures of street vendors, but these kids were completely professional and it broke my heart a little.

We did a little hike to the top of the hill, then went back for a rest and a hot shower followed by some BBC Newsworld. We met for dinner and, just as we sat down, the power went out. We ate by candlelight and had a yummy meal of "Sapa soup" (beef and cilantro), fresh spring rolls, fried spring rolls with shrimp and apple (delicious), and, of course, a cheeseburger and fries. Gluttons or what?

The next day we woke up bright and early. Pat and I spent a fortune on train tickets to Hoi An for the next day, and Scott arranged for some scooter rentals. We spent the most amazing day driving for 35 kilometres in the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. In the heat of the moment, I even dared to say it was more beautiful than Cape Breton. That's the closest I have ever come to cheating on my island, but Sapa deserves the praise. It definitely rivaled the Cabot Trail, and we had the most awesome picnic with the most gorgeous scenery ever.

OK, Pat is hurrying me along as we have to catch a bus to Phnom Penh. I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves. Bye for now! Next is Hoi An.

Halong Bay, Vietnam

2009-05-16T04:20:00.000-07:00

Our first drink of shady vodka. Monkey Island, Halong Bay.

On a lovely bike ride in Cat Ba Island, Halong Bay.

Boy with cow. Cat Ba Island.

Napping woman. Halong Bay.

Their boats were like convenience stores!

Janine and Gen, slightly mysterious looking. Outside the "Amazing Cave".

The harbour in halong City.

Selling everything, everywhere, at any time.

The other side of the cliff: Monkey Island resort (not our beach).

Our own little cove: Monkey Island

Our beach huts: Monkey Island

Cat Ba Island.

Scott on a bike. Cat Ba Island.

Me on a bike. Cat Ba Island.

Halong Bay

Amazing Cave

Our junk, as seen from Amazing Cave

Seriously; convenience stores!

Enjoying the balcony on our boat.

Halong Bay

Our guardian dragon.

After about two days in Hanoi, we were definitely ready to head off to Halong Bay, the famous World Heritage site in Northern Vietnam where the limestone cliffs shoot straight up out of the sea and you can explore vast caves. The woman who sold us the tour made it sound really great: the first day spent in a fancy room on a traditional Junk, yummy seafood on the menu, a cave to explore, kayaking and swimming followed by dinner and then chilling out- the second day would be spent on Cat Ba Island, the largest island in the bay, where we would bike, then hike, and finally bike again to a ferry that would take us to "Monkey Island" (self explanatory name, right?). On Mokey Island we would stay in some fancy bamboo huts and we could go kayaking, fishing, swimming and do lots of other fun activities. The final day would be spent travelling back to Hanoi, with a nice lunch as a final farewell.

Sounds really great, right? We thought so too, and Lonely Planet said that, as far as Halong Bay was concerned, you pay for what you get. So we didn't mind forking over 30 bucks a day since we thought we'd be travelling in class and style.

This sounds ominous, doesn't it? The truth is, our trip was fun. We had a great time. But either the woman who sold us the trip, or the tour guide who took us around, lied about almost everything that was in the itinerary. Not that it was a big deal, and not that we're complaining, but that was our first taste of the common deceptiveness many Vietnamese show towards foreigners... and there would be much more to come, but that's for another post. Bottom line: we love Vietnam. This country is amazing and we've had an amazing time. But very few people have been honest with us, and many have outright stolen from us. Can't have a rose without a few thorns, though, right?

So, at around 8 AM, we were picked up at our hotel. The hotel management gave us an icy goodbye, clearly angry that we had not booked our trip through them, and we were greeted on our mini bus by our first surprise- all of our boatmates, save for a brother/sister duo from Germany, were Vietnamese! Nothing wrong with that, of course, as we had fun meeting them and swimming with them was quite humourous, but the woman had told us we would be with other foreigners. Oh well! Not a big disappointment as foreigers can often be the worst travel buddies.

We left Hanoi and drove for about 3.5 hours until we reached Halong City- our jumping off point. Everywhere we looked there were tourists! Foreign and Vietnamese, old and young, rich and poor... you get the idea. When we saw the vast amount of Junks in the harbour waiting for their passengers we got a little overwhelmed. Which one was ours?!

It turns out, our was the super nice one that was anchored a little further away from the others. Sunchairs on the top deck, rooms on the bottom floor, dining room in the middle, and ladders going up the sides so you could just jump off the boat if you felt like a swim. We didn't really feel like swimming because it was drizzly and the climate up North was actually much chillier than we had been used to in the last few countries. It was a nice change from 35 degrees (or more) and sunny every day.

We lucked out even further when our guide told Me, Pat, Gen and Scott that our rooms were away from all the others, up on the same level as the dining room. When we got to our rooms we were very happy with what we saw: TV, mini fridge (for the booze and mix we were smuggling- way too expensive to buy drinks on the Junk!), nice big, comfy beds and lovely decor. Oh, and a nice bathroom with shampoo and soap and toothbrushes and hot water. Yay.

(Later we found out that the TV and fridge were just for show- indeed, Scott looked for his fridge's plug in and saw that it was non-existent- yet another little fib!)

We had a lovely lunch of fresh steamed prawns, cucmber salad, rice, meatballs and a nice seafood stirfry that was a bit spicy and featured cuttlefish. My fav.

Afterwards, we settled in on our communal balcony (only for us two couples, though- our rooms took up the back of the junk so, even though we got privacy to consume our illegal rice vodka, we also got the exhaust from the back of the boat's motor) and had a few drinks. Then we arrived at the cave (another point worth mentioning was that we passed by an island that we were supposed to visit but didn't. It looked fun, a bunch of Koreans were dancing and partying. When we asked our guide about why we didn't stop he said it wasn't on the itinerary. Liar!).

The cave was called "Amazing Cave". And actually, it was pretty cool. That being said, I never cared about seeing a cave and had very low expectations. But I think everyone thought it was pretty cool. Pat got some nice photos!

After the cave we went kayaking, although at this point it was raining pretty heavily and my glasses were wet and I couldn't see where we were going. It was still fun, though, and we weren't going to have another activity taken away from us! We passed by entire villages built on rafts. Puppies were tied on a short leash so they wouldn't fall in the bay and drown. Other dogs barked at us, and the locals stared us down as we glided past. We got up close to a few of the limestone islands and saw the grottos and small caves that are prevalent in the area. We had fun.

When we stopped kayaking, it had stopped raining. We were already wet, so we jumped off the boat into the bay. The guys jumped from the very top of the boat, while I was content with jumping off the first level. Poor Gen looked cold and didn't go in at all, but she got some pictures of us splashing around.

The next day, we were told that we could choose between biking and hiking. Woah... what? The woman told us we would be biking first, and then hiking, and then biking again. But our guide, as per usual, said that was "not part of the itinerary". We started to wonder why we booked a more expensive trip than other people. So we chose biking as we all had done our fair share of hiking already.

It was beautiful! I wish I had gotten a chance to spend more time on Cat Ba Island. It was eery; shrouded with mist, and very beautiful. The people in the village were quite friendly as well. It was a great bike ride along the vegetable fields and we all felt that we made the right decision, especially since, if we had hiked, we wouldn't be able to see anything by the time we made it to the top.

After our bike ride we made our way to Monkey Island, where we were promised a BBQ lunch on the beach. When we arrived, we saw a deserted (but nice) set of bamboo huts with a few poor souls holding up the fort. And no BBQ. But lunch was nice nonetheless- I REALLY like Vietnamese food! So, like I said, it was deserted. We were the only guests. Awesome! Our beach was isolated and only reached by boat, and it was a bit stormy when we arrived so we couldn't really do anything except drink some shady vodka we found at a street vendor (the boys drank first in case it made us go blind) and play cards. It was still pretty fun.

The next day we made it back to the mainland, had a really delicious lunch and went back to Hanoi. And that was the day we realized not to trust the average Vietnamese salesperson.

The End. (Next comes Sapa).

Hanoi: I can't cross the road.

2009-05-13T21:32:00.000-07:00

While planning our trip to Vietnam we, of course, asked our friends who had been there how they liked it and what their experience was like. We invariably got two answers: the first half of our friends said that they loved Vietnam so much. They want to go back and live there forever with the wonderful Vietnamese people and among some of the most beautiful scenery they have ever seen. The other half said they hated Vietnam and anyone associated with it. The people there cheat and lie and never give you an honest answer or opinion. You lose so much money getting ripped off that you're forced to leave earlier than planned. It's a lousy country full of jerks.

Hmm. Makes you a little nervous, no?

So, about a week ago we hopped on a bus (Korean made, of course) in Vientiane and tried to mentally prepare ourselves for the next 24 hours. We would have no reclining chairs, no leg room, few bathroom breaks, one very long break at the border (where who knows what will happen with finicky or bribe crazed border officials) and will try, to no avail, to sleep on a small bus absolutely packed to the brim with smoking, vomiting, coughing locals. Indeed, they even set up plastic chairs in the aisle of the bus to accomodate more people. Add this to the twisting, winding mountain roads of Laos and you can guess how I felt about the whole venture. Not great. But I took a xanax and, after the first of only two pit stops, managed to put myself to sleep. Unfortunately for Pat, he had no pills to take and was constantly used as a pillow for the guy sitting in the asile next to him.

Soooo, the bus wasn't great and certainly isn't recommended unless, like us, you are absolutely stuck in Vientiane for days and are behind schedule. We wanted to mosey on through Laos at a snail's pace, but we needed our Vietnamese Visas and it was a long weekend. No moseying allowed.

We arrived at the Vietnamese border at approximately 8AM. We fought a huge crowd of backpackers and sharp elbowed Laos women (no such thing as a line up) and somehow managed to get stamped out. We got a shady meal of pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) sans meat on the Laos side of the border and realized that our bus had already gone through to the other side. We had to walk to the Vietnamese side of the border, about 500 metres away. No biggie.

We paid the border guards an American dollar each (it was "required", but not required) and got through into Vietnam without incident. I was a little nervous ever since news of that girl from Britain being sentenced to death in Laos got out (she says she never saw the heroin before, and I didn't want anyone to plant stuff in my bag so I duct taped it like a madwoman so I would know if it had been touched by someone). But there were no such incidents; nothing to worry about, and we got through to Vietnam with no problems.

Back on the bus and finally in Vietnam, we still had about 12 hours to go until we arrived in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam. I don't want to talk about the next 12 hours. They were long and boring and when we stopped for lunch I saw a big rat in the lady's bathroom. What I also noticed was that there was finally some noise in the background. In Laos you only hear passing traffic and that's about it. In Vietnam people are screaming at each other, singing songs, puppies are crying in their cages, birds are screeching in theirs, people are selling you stuff at the sides of the road (and they even climb on your bus when it stops). I missed the social butterfly-ness that was so lacking in Laos. It was a nice touch. Plus, people were smiling at me again. Thank God! For the longest time I thought I was walking around Laos with a dirty face or something. No one EVER smiled at me, ever! Don't get me wrong, Laos was amazing and the people were very kind and hospitable, but that doesn't mean they like you.

So finally, at 7PM, exhausted and dusty, we arrived in Hanoi.

A man on our bus stood up, introduced himself and said that he would take us to the old city (where all the accomodation is) for free if we would take a look at his guesthouse. We took a look and it was too expensive, but we were so tired that we paid 16$ US for two nights and had, for the first time, hot water and cable TV (with BBC Newsworld) in one room. Since then we have realized that guesthouses in Vietnam have amazing value for the money you're paying. We've had hot water and cable TV (even swimming pools) for 10$ a night. Anyway, we paid more than usual, but we were happy with the free breakfast and free internet and the comfy bed and morning cartoons.

When we awoke the next day we were pleasantly surprised by my friend, not only from university in Canada, but from Korea as well, Genevieve and her boyfriend Scott, who were in Hanoi at the same time as us and who were staying just down the road from us. I was so happy to see them! Sometimes it's hard to meet people if you're backpacking as a couple- the singles tend to stick to themselves- and I was feeling a bit friend deprived after saying goodbye to our friends in Luang Prabang, so Gen and Scott were a great addition to our travels.

We all decided to book the same trip to Halong Bay and then to meet up for dinner and a traditonal water puppet show later that evening. We booked a nice looking trip on a traditional junk for the next three days and arranged where we would meet later on. Then, Pat and I took off to explore the Old Quarter of Hanoi.

I loved this city! The climate was cooler than we had been getting in Laos and Thailand, which was a nice surprise. The buildings, some in shambles and some looking quite spiffy, were the traditional colonial French buildings we had been seeing in Laos, but the streets were winding and full of motorbikes and cars that didn't care if they ran over pedestrians. It was hard to learn to cross the street, even though the streets themselves were very narrow and it would only take half a second to cross. Everywhere you go there is a constant scream of horns honking as everyone tries to maneuver themselves around the city.

We grabbed a typical Vietnamese snack, known as a pate baguette, which actually has no pate inside. It's a homemade, crusty baguette filled with all kinds of seasoned and smoked meat, some fresh cilantro and cucumber and then drizzled with a chili sauce. It's delicious. And worth risking running to the bathroom immediately after eating it (not that we ever had to, but you never can trust street food). It only cost 10,000 Vietnamese Dong, or about 75 cents Canadian.

Anyway, with baguette in hand, we took to the streets of the old city. We walked the diameter of the lake, which had a small island with a pretty buddhist temple on it. Then we walked through the market where I saw lots of cool spices and found some coffee beans that a weasel pooped out before they were collected and roasted (poop coffee is all the rage these days, but it's generally cats that I thought pooped it out- not weasels). Needless to say, I bought some for my Dad.

We went to an old traditional house that was restored and turned into a museum which shows you how the merchants of the old city lived at the turn of the century (called Memorial House). It was nice to see how the streets were organized according to what trade they were selling- it makes me understand Korean culture a bit better, actually, since there are still entire streets in Seoul devoted to selling the exact same thing.

We wanted to go visit Uncle Ho's corpse at the Ho Chi Min Masoleum but unfortunately you can only visit in the morning, so we missed our chance. No problem, we had a cup of tea at a roadside cafe, wrote some postcards to family back home and made our way back to our hotel where we watched movies on HBO.

We met up with Gen and Scott and had dinner at "Little Hanoi"- a restaurant recommended in the Lonely Planet. It was standard, serving more Western dishes than Vietnamese (although I ordered their traditional claypot eggplant and it was delicious). In my opinion, you should stay away from any business recommended in the Lonely Planet. Why? Because while they may be inexpensive and honest businesses when the author stays there, it still takes two years for the publication to come out. By the time you read the recommendation, the owners have already become cocky and raised their prices. At least, that's been 90% of our experience. The businesses that are striving to be recommended by LP are the best places to stay and eat. Actually, the best places to eat are the markets and food stalls if we're going by taste and not sanitation.

After dinner we got a cheap and tasty Bia Hanoi at a street restaurant and then made our way to the puppet theatre. The performance was one of the best I've seen in all of Southeast Asia. The music was absolutely amazing! I loved the guy playing the flute and the two women singers that just sat there fanning themselves, clearly bored to tears, but still making beautiful music. The puppeteers were on one side of a curtain and the puppets came out dancing and making everyone laugh . Of course, all of the puppets were in the water so they showed special stories like "fishing" and "working in the rice fields", etc etc. It was very cool!

Stay tuned for our Halong Bay, Sapa and Hoi An experiences...

More Laos

2009-05-02T06:10:00.001-07:00

Vang Vieng:

Luang Prabang Royal Ballet:

My Sad Elephant Adventure (Don't do this...):

Luang Prabang:

Vientiane: I can finally spell it.

2009-05-02T05:34:00.000-07:00

Wow, I am getting bad at blogging. Sorry.

For the last few days we've been lounging around the capital city (read: small town) of Laos, Vientiane. It's really lovely! Actually, when we first arrived I was still in Vang Vieng mode (read: cranky) and wasn't so enamored with the place. I mean, there isn't much to it. And our room in our guesthouse kinda smells like... poo. In Vang Vieng we had such a beautiful guesthouse, with hammocks and delicious breakfasts, and it was only 40,000 kip a night! That's like, six bucks. Here, we're paying 70,000 kip a night, and our room is really dumpy. Vang Vieng has gorgeous scenery as well, which Vientiane sorta lacks.

At this point you may be asking yourself why exactly I think Vientiane is lovely. Well... the day we arrived we only planned on spending a maximum of two nights before heading back across the country and into Vietnam (where we're meeting my univeristy/Korea friends, Genevieve and Scott!!!!). Unfortunately, what we failed to realize is that this is a long weekend. Labour Day weekend! Even in Korea! We should have known better. We arrived Thursday (late afternoon) and were told that we could not get our visas for Vietnam until Monday.

Super bummer! I was so angry. I told Pat that we should just go back to Vang Vieng and count our losses- returning to Vientiane on Monday to get our visas and get the hell out (hopefully in one day). At least in Vang Vieng we had a great room. And we could go tubing during the hottest parts of the day. And watch The Simpsons at night.

Pat said no. What a narc! Actually, he was making more sense than me, saying that with travels times we would only have one full day in Vang Vieng before having to come back to Vientiane. Damn his logic and good looks!

The first night was fun. We were with some friends we had made in Vang Vieng and we went out to eat at one of the fancier French restaurants in the city (town). I had a lovely Cordon Bleu and the ratatoile (sp?) was delicious. We enjoyed some wine and then went out for a beer and listened to some live music. Slowly, I was starting to like the place...

The next day we went for breakfast at one of my favourite Laos establishments, The Scandanavian Bakery. I had some delicious quiche for breakfast, and enjoyed reading a real live newspaper imported from Thailand. OK. Maybe Vientiane isn't so terrible...

After that, we went straight to one of the fancier hotels to make use of their pool facilities. This is what won me over. I wanted to be in Vang Vieng because the river would be able to keep me cool. Laos is really, really hot. Luang Prabang was crazy hot, Vang Vieng was much nicer and cooler in the morning and evenings but crazy hot in the afternoon, and Vientiane is... well... hotter than both places combined! I need to swim to get through my day here!

So this is what our days in Vientiane have looked like:

Wake up around 10 AM; watch BBC World News at our guesthouse (their one redeeming quality).

Eat a yummy breakfast which usually includes a baguette.

Go to the pool for the hottest parts of the day; read, sunbathe and soak in the kiddie pool (alternating for longer swims in the big kid pool).

Do something cultural in the late afternoon (today we meditated with some Buddhist monks!).

Eat an amazing dinner. I have had French food, a delicious Belgian-inspired chicken kebab with french fries inside and delicious curries.

Go out with friends for some Beer Lao- the national tasty brew.

You see now why I think Vientiane is lovely? Here are some pictures to convince you further.

The main drag: empty, as it were.

I love how social the people in Laos are. We get to see a lot more of that now that we're away from the more backpack-ey areas.

So colourful and European...

Where I've been spending the majority of my days...

Vientiane may want to start rethinking their wiring... it looks a little cluttered up there (not to mention low-laying!).

A walk along the Mekong at sunset.

Laos is the land of doggies. We have a beautiful Golden Retriever puppy at our guesthouse! That's their other redeeming quality.

As is the norm in Laos, there are wats everywhere. I like this pic.

And cool antique shops.

And kittehs.

Hi! I'm in Laos!

2009-04-26T04:17:00.000-07:00

Just a very quick note to update you all on where we are and what we're doing. The internet here is fast but so, so expensive!

Several days ago (a blur...), we left Chiang Mai and made it late in the evening to the Thai\Laos border. Backpacker central. We knew we'd be seeing more backpackers as opposed to regular tourists, as we are now on a heavily travelled backpacker route, but wow! We didn't know we'd be seeing so many!

We spent the night at the border and crossed the Mekong over to Laos early the next morning. We met some friends and we all planned on taking the slow boat.

"Great!", I thought. "We won't be bored silly on the slow boat! There will be other people!"

As we reached the customs building in Laos we realized we had nothing to worry about. Every single backpacker was planning 0n doing the same thing as us. We got our slow boat tickets, hoping we'd be on the same one as our new friends, and realized there was only one, very big slow boat with absolutely everyone crammed in there. No problem.

The slow boat took two days on the Mekong to reach Luang Prabang (the second largest city in Laos... but it's really just a town). The first night we stopped in a small village that was clearly benefitting from being the nightly stopover for all travelling foreigners to Luang Prabang. We had dinner with the people we met on the boat and went to bed, exhausted. It felt like Spring Break in our guest house, with lots of drunk frat boy-like behaviour (and thin walls).

The next day we spent another seven hours in the boat, playing charades and cards and watching the world pass us by. We saw no signs of civilization. It was like we were discovering Laos for the first time.

We arrived in Luang Prabang and we're immediately taken with the French colonial architecture, the kooky foreign-owned jewellry shops (Pat not so much) and the most amazing night market I have ever come across. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Luang Prabang made me fall of the wagon. And no, I'm not talking about alcohol (or opium, which we were at times offered!). I'm talking about my continuing addiction to textiles.

Go to Luang Prabang's night market and you will be overwhelmed by the textiles. The cotton, the silk- THE AFFORDABLE DUVET COVERS! ( Got a beauty for under 20 bucks Canadian- and managed to get the matching pillowcases thrown in for free!)

In short, I love Laos.

Immediately you are aware that you are in a country very, very different from Thailand, although linguistically and traditionally, Laos is more similar to Thailand than any other neighbouring country. Maybe it's the fact that the communist government cut Laos off from the world for so long. Maybe it's the extremely laid back nature of the Laos people. Whatever it is, it's interesting. People seem a bit suspicious of foreigners here- although their suspicions don't adversely affect their hospitality. In Laos, my usually charming smile doesn't charm anybody. Not a one! They stare back at me with suspicion and wonder why I think their baby is so darn cute. Or their puppy. Lots of puppies here. Cute ones.

In Laos, people don't want to do any more than they have to to get by. They don't seem to attack bargaining with the same fervour as their neighbours. If I start to walk away from a haggle, they don't call me back with a cheaper price. They don't budge on transportation costs. If someone asks if we have a guesthouse and we say yes, they leave it at that. In some ways this means we get fairer prices, but usually, it works to our detrement. They love American dollars here- indeed, just to get IN the country you need to pay for your visa with American dollars- and every country pays a different price. Get this: Canada pays more than any other country in the world! The US pays the least! Why, Laos? WE never bombed you in a secret war campaign! Why must you punish Canadian citizens!?

In any case, this whole Laos concept has made for excellent travelling so far. I love the fact that Laos people don't give a rat's ass about where you come from. They don't worship your white skin or your fair hair (for once, in Asia). They treat you as the outsider you are. And they're still nice, polite people. And they make amazing scarves. And silver jewellry. The food's ok.

Right now we're in Vang Vieng, a tiny town where backpacker's flock for one thing- ok, maybe two things: tubing down the river, and restaurants that show Friends, The Simpsons and Family Guy DVD's. We just spent two hours watching a season of The Simpson's I hadn't seen yet! Excellent. So we're off to tube tomorrow. We got a great deal on a guesthouse, with cute, clean rooms and an amazing view of the river for less than 6 bucks a night. This is the life!

Chiang Mai in a (Large) Nutshell

2009-04-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

Hello All!

I haven't been able to post recently because of the firewalls on most of the computers here in Chiang Mai (they think you're trying to look up inappropriate websites so they block all the blogs). Finally, on our last morning here, I have found a computer that allows blogger and I am relieved, to say the least! We are going to Laos tomorrow and who knows what state the internet cafes are in. I wouldn't want to have to blog allll about Chiang Mai (I have a lot to say) and Laos (I will probably have a lot to say) in one go. This works out quite nicely.

ACTUALLY, we were supposed to be on a bus by now to the Thai/Laos border but the 8:30 bus was full, leaving us the morning to exchange used books (I'm going through books on this trip like you wouldn't believe), have a nice lunch and peruse the internet.

What to say about Chiang Mai? Well, a few things:

1. It's hot. Like... really hot. It doesn't cool down at night, it doesn't rain, and it doesn't let up. And it's landlocked, so there is no wind. It's really, really hot.

2. It's a very old city (located in the North of Thailand) and is surrounded by a deep moat. Inside the moat is the old city (where we're staying) and outside the moat is the new city, as well as the famous Night Bazaar.

3. There is way too much to do here. We could have stayed here for an entire month, just checking off all the possible activities within and around Chiang Mai.

4. We love it here, despite the heat and the mysterious bug bites that have been appearing on my bod.

When we arrived at approx. 10 PM last week sometime (I lose count of the days easily here...), I felt like we had literally been living on busses and just wanted to stay somewhere until I felt rested up a bit. We had taken a four hour bus from the small town of Khuraburi (in Southwest Thailand) to the city of Chumpon (Southeast Thailand), then took a ferry from Chumpon to the island of Ko Tao (so Pat could dive, but then he got an ear infection so he couldn't dive). Ko Tao was too expensive so we took the ferry back the next day. Then we took a 9 hour bus from Chumpon to Bangkok. We arrived in Bangkok at about 10 PM. We wanted to just get a night bus to Chiang Mai from there, but we were too late and were forced to fork over 25 bucks for the "only available" room on Khao San Rd. When we took to the streets of Bangkok to find some noodles, we were bombarded with guns- waterguns, to be precise. It was Thai New Year, and on Thai New Year you can expect to get soaked... and then covered in mud. Don't ask me why.

The next day we got a ten hour bus to Chiang Mai- it left at 11:30 and arrived at 9:30. We quickly found a place to stay and fell asleep, exhausted.

The next morning we slept in, and then found a cheaper guesthouse (Same Same Guesthouse). This was when the booking started, my friends.

Same Same is a great place to stay if you're ever in Chiang Mai. The best thing about the place (other than their extremely cheap beer) is the fact that, if you book your Chiang Mai activities through them, you get it for cheap. Yay! And they don't ever try to rip you off. Ever. I love Same Same.

First, we booked for "Flight of the Gibbon"- a ziplining adventure through the jungle. For approx. 20 bucks Canadian, you go ziplinging (ziplining is where you go flying through the jungle canopy, attached to a sturdy wire) for two hours with all the safety equipment, you get a delicious lunch (we had green curry, stir fried chicken and veggies, rice and fresh fruit), transportation to and from your guesthouse annnnd a free tee shirt. Yesss.

This was Pat's activity. Actually, I didn't want to do it. I don't like heights. And speedy things. I was scared. Pat was, as usual, amused. I admit, I screamed the first few times but then I got the hang of it. It was fun! It was exciting! The zipline trail included ziplines (duh) as well as two suspended bridges and two repelling ropes (where they tie the rope to your back and scare you by almost dropping you a gazillion feet and then stopping just as you're about to land). It was great fun, and I wasn't angry at Patrick anymore :)

Then we booked my activity. There's a place outside Chiang Mai called "Tiger Kingdom" where the tigers have all been bred in captivity in Bangkok and then sent to this place in Chiang Mai. The workers have a great relationship with the tigers and they love rough housing and playing. Much like a large dog, I noted. I have no idea what animal rights groups have to say about this place, and I must admit that, I don't care. I wanted to play with tigers, too! Doesn't everybody want to pat a tiger on their head and live to tell the tale?

Normally I am against caging animals up, if it isn't necessary. I think a lot of Asian zoos are awful, and in general, animals in many Asian countries are not treated with a great (or even a little) amount of respect. I was excited to see the tigers, but also apprehensive. Maybe the tigers wouldn't look happy and I would regret giving the place my money. However, my desire was greater than my apprehension and off we went (everything organized by Same Same, of course).

It was amazing! The tigers were so well looked after, and you could see how much the workers loved their tigers... and vice versa. First we went to see the babies. It was naptime, but I still got to hold one, and the other put his little head on my hand, like a pillow. They were so cute, I was close to tears. They were healthy and chubby, and we had to wash our hands and take off our shoes before we were allowed to touch them. We spent 15 minutes with the bebes, and then moved on to the big guys. It was the middle of the day, and extremely hot, so they were all asleep too, with the exception of one or two.

When approaching the tigers the workers tell you to approach from the back, not the front. If you approach from the front, the tigers will think you want to play. And they'll pounce. And you won't be ready. Also, we could not touch the tiger's heads or front paws. Fine, fine. They looooved getting their bellies rubbed. They were all well fed (the girls were chubby while the boys were more lean) and we spent another 15 minutes rubbing their bellies and getting pictures taken. It was such a great experience! These tigers would never make it in the wild, and to be honest, I don't even think they're native to Thailand. They were Indo-Chinese tigers from Burma, China, Laos, etc. but I don't think Thailand was mentioned in the explanation. Oh well!

Our next morning was spent at our Thai cooking class! Amazing! Wonderful! Yummy!

We started at the market, had a lesson on Thai ingredients, herbs and spices, and then got down to business. We started with soups and stir fries. I chose a coconut chicken soup, and Pat chose the ever popular Tom Yum soup with prawns. I chose pad thai for my stir fry and Pat chose cashew chicken. Amazing! I loved learning about how to balance Thai flavours (fish sauce for salt, suagr for sweet, lime for sour and chilis for hot) and get a beginner's technique with a wok.

The food itself? Delicious. Using the right aromatics, my coconut chicken soup tasted spicy, salty and coconut-ey all at the same time. Pat's soup was as hot and sour as it should be. It was the best Thai food I had eaten so far- all thanks to our teacher, of course!

Next we made our curry pastes. Pat was making green curry and I was making red. It was fun to smash our ingredients to bits with the mortar and pestle. I need to get one of those...

Then we made the curries, as well as spring rolls (from scratch) and a sticky rice and mango dessert. All delicious. We got recipe booklets at the end of our course and had a great morning. I should point out that, while Pat never cooks at home, he really enjoys the cooking classes we've done and his food was really good. Busted.

We planned on having free meditation sessions that afternoon and evening at a local temple, with the monks, but they must have been busy that day because no one would answer the phone. Oh well. We spent the day resting. Actually, this was good because I had eaten some not-so-great street food the night before and was a bit ill... I'm just on the mend now, after three days, thanks to some charcoal tablets I've been taking. It's a shame because I could only have a few bites of each of my creations during our cooking class before running to the bathroom, but what can you do. I know I'll really enjoy them when I'm in Toronto, remembering my travels.

Last night we went to a Muay Thai boxing match. I expected to be disturbed and leave the place in disgust, but I ended up being only a little bit disturbed and left the place bored. The fighters were mostly teenagers and children... the children's match was great- they clearly loved the "sport" and were quick and resourceful and very evenly matched. They crossed the line, however, when one of the little boys- kicked in the gut one too many times- threw up. Right in the ring. And then proceeded to keep boxing. The kid couldn't have been older than seven, and his opponent looked even younger. I mean, when a kid pukes after being kicked too many times, isn't it time to call it a day? Who cares if he loses? Oh well. I think the event in Bangkok is more professional and hopefully less exploitative (and less boring). The real reason we chose to go was because an Irish boxer was fighting against a Thai boxer and we wanted to see what would happen. That fight was over in less than five minutes; the Thai boxer victorious. Don't mess with the locals.

And so, after coming to Chiang Mai to relax and rejuvinate, we find we've been so busy we haven't done either, our daily budgets for Chiang Mai long ago ditched, and we are very happy. Onto Laos, the land of tubing and Lao-Lao whiskey and French baguettes! Pictures soon to come.

Ko Surin: Go for the Snorkeling; Stay for the... Snorkeling...

2009-04-13T22:44:00.000-07:00

So, Thailand is pretty neat!

We just got back to civilization... sort of... after spending a few days on the Surin Islands near the Thai/Burmese border. We thought a lot of people went to these islands, but as we found out in Krabitown, no one had any idea (especially the Thais) where the Surins even were.

Why the Surins? Well, I wanted a beach, but there had to be more than that to keep Patrick happy (he sunburns easily, the little ginger kid...). We found out that the Surins were reputedly one of the top ten areas in the world to dive, and often in March and April you can see whalesharks. Well that information was more than enough for Pat to concede to going to the beach again. Plus we would have to sleep in a tent, and Pat likes camping. I tolerate it, but I love the beach. See where I'm going here? We're both making sacrifices.

So, after much speculation as to how to get there from Krabitown (since nobody seemed to know) we decided we would just go to the bus station and try our luck. Sure enough, the very first bus that we saw was going to Khuraburi, a small town which is also home to the National Park headquarters (because the Surins are also a National Marine Park). The only boat left at 9AM, so we spent the night in Khuraburi and relaxed. As soon as we got off the bus, a woman had approached us and asked if we would like to stay at her guesthouse. She also arranged absolutely everything else for us: boat tickets, a tent, snorkels and masks and fins, and transportation to the boat. She was really nice. She also had a nice cat and a cute little daughter. And her bungalows were nice, too.

Anyway, we got up bright and early the next day to catch our boat. There are two kinds of boats you can take- the fast one and the slow one. We were supposed to go on the slow one, but this past week was the Thai Lunar New Year and every family in Thailand ALSO decided to go to the Surins (which simply told us that we made the right decision- it must be a sweet place if every Thai and their dog was going there for vacation), so the slow boat had already filled. Don't worry, though! We got on the fast boat, at no extra charge.

I think everyone on this island has a share in the profits from tourism, so if you buy a boat ticket, it doesn't matter what tour company you go with- if one tour is full they just put you on the next one. Everything here is a cooperative. I would really find this out later.

When we arrived my jaw dropped. It was beyond gorgeous. It was the best place we had been to yet. I didn't care about having to sleep in a tent- I felt so special to be on this amazing island with an extremely small number of other foreigners. You won't get this at Ko Phi Phi, where, according to Lonely Planet (I hate that I have to keep quoting them!) you'll "be sharing the beach with every speedo known to man" or something like that. There were plenty of Thais there on vacation, but there is still a limited amount of accommodation so even if the place is full you're still only one of about three hundred souls spread out over a large area. The beach rarely had more than ten people on it at one time.

And let's talk about the water! So blue and crystal clear it brought tears to my eyes. Perfect for snorkeling, which is what I planned on doing while Pat went diving.

Unfortunately (or is it forturnate?), diving was not to be. You can only arrange trips from the mainland and, we hear, while the diving is amazing, it's in a dangerous spot and only divers with a minimum of 70 dives can do it (?). Anyways, not to worry, because everyone we spoke to said that you see more snorkeling than you do diving in this area. The snorkeling is spectacular. The water's visibility is, at times, at a maximum depth of 20 metres. That means while you would normally have to dive to see things like sharks and turtles clearly, you can enjoy them just by snorkeling in the Surins.

Um... let's make one thing clear. I love snorkeling, and I'm even getting better about snorkeling in deeper water (I'm a 'fraidy cat), but I do no, repeat DO NOT ever want to see a shark. Ok? No sharks. I want to feel like I'm floating through a magical world, full of colourful, cute fishies and pretty coloured corals (the Surins have an abundance of coral- over twenty different kinds- and it was hardly damaged at all by the tsunami). For me, snorkeling is a soul enriching exercise, like yoga. I don't do it for thrills. So when I heard the word "sharks" I almost didn't get in the water. How silly of me!

The snorkeling was everything I like it to be, only a million trillion times better. At one point, you're snorkeling past massive boulders of "brain coral" with large, colourful Parrotfish pecking at the parasites that call the coral home. The next moment, you're among little seafans and thousands of little fish, every colour of the rainbow are flying around you in a circle. The next moment, you're watching a school of big, black fish chase each other. It was just an amazing experience- and at 80 baht per snorkel trip (about CAN 3.00) it was a cheap one, too! I went on three different trips over two days and each time we went to a different spot around the islands.

On my last trip I was snorkeling solo while Pat was relaxing in the shade of our tent and, while trying to get away from the crowd (the Thai's splash too much and scare all the fish) I almost ran smack dab into a barracuda! I think he was as surprised as I was and quickly changed direction. I changed direction, too, and headed back to the boat. No thanks, don't want to see anything that might bite, poison or sting me! I'm paranoid; I get it.

After my last snorkeling trip we packed up our things and headed off the beach to get the boat back to Khuraburi. As we were about to board the slow boat, I realized that I had accidentally left the bag full of the tent, snorkels and masks that the woman had lent us. Oh no! We frantically tried to find someone to translate for us and finally got our point across to our boat taxi drivers. They didn't have to, but they agreed to take me back to get the bag and return me to the boat as quickly as possible (it was due to sail any minute). We sped back to the beach, I jumped off the side of the boat into the water (Lara Croft style), ran to where the bag was, and ran back to the boat. We raced back to the big boat, but it was too late. They had already left with my boyfriend on board!

Not to worry, friends, because I had given my boat taxi dudes my sincere thanks for taking me back to the beach (plus 160 baht, for their trouble). They were very grateful and took me to the fast boat that was just about to leave, meaning I left after Patrick and arrived in Khuraburi an hour before he did. Take that! I really loved the people on Ko Surin; they were very kind and didn't want my money.

Now we're on Ko Tao, on the other side of Thailand, because poor Patrick didn't get to go diving on the Surins. This place is full of Europeans and everything is overpriced. Today, I hate everything about it except that the island is full of rabies free dogs, and our guesthouse even has a Golden Retriever! And they have a cute baby, too. But still. I'm angry. This place is too expensive. More tomorrow? If I can afford the internet...

We were greeted by clean, clear water and wooden boats upon our arrival...

Our beach at low tide.

Takin' a little walk.

Our accommodation (less than 3 bucks a night!). Very uncomfortable.

However, the view wasn't so bad. That made up for it a little.

I did a lot of this.

And this.

Pat did a lot of sitting in the shade... oh! The totems were made by the indigenous people that still inhabit the island. In English they're known as "Sea Gypsies", but in Thai they're known as the "moken" which comes from a word meaning "salt water". They ran the whole island, and lived in a little community on one of the islands.

A slew of snorkeling boats.

Pat and his beach. At high tide. Notice: he is still sitting in the shade.

Our Journey Through The "Danger Zone"

2009-04-09T19:22:00.000-07:00

We spent Wednesday night in Kota Bahru. This time we found a great, newly opened little guesthouse. I mean, it was ok. The owner was really nice and helpful and there were all kinds of DVD's to watch, which means I got some real relaxation time on the couch. And that hasn't happened in a long time, so I was happy.

The guy at the guesthouse asked us where we were headed. We said Thailand. Kota Bahru is really close to one of the Malaysia/Thai borders (there are three altogether) so it was much easier for us to cross over at this border after spending time in the Perhentians. That being said, Southern Thailand has been in a state of emergency for some time. We were fully aware of this and had discussed the border crossing with every backpacker we met who had gone that way. Every backpacker said the same thing: lots of soldiers with guns, and no problems whatsoever.

I remained unconvinced. Lonely Planet had warnings about the area in their guidebook and the Canadian government website (which one should never read if they ever want to travel ANYWHERE because there are warnings about every country) said that travel through the area should be avoided at all costs. The supposed "terrorists" (really, they are Muslim separatists who have a huge beef with Thai Buddhists) have never directly targetted tourists as they have no problems with them, but being in the wrong place at the wrong time has seen a few Canadians shot in past years. The same goes for Halifax, or Toronto. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time can really suck.

So, taking the word of allll the other backpackers who have crossed the border here already (and because we really had no other choice in the matter), we got up early Thursday morning, had a quick breakfast and boarded a bus to the border- about an hours drive away.

You can tell you're reaching the border immediately, simply due to the army's presence- on both sides of the border. There have been problems at this particular border in the past and both sides were heavily guarded as a result. As we got off the bus, we sudden;y heard all kinds of sirens. Later, Pat would tell me he cursed under his breath as soon as he heard them, because he knew I would be difficult enough to get across the border. As we watched all the "Bomba Squad" trucks race past, I stood firmly and told Pat we were NOT going across this border today. No way.

Well, Pat put his foot down and practically dragged me across the border. And I was glad he did. It was only a drill, and there was noone threatening our safety. As we crossed over into Thailand, the number of men in khaki with large guns drastically increased. We got through the border with no problem and made our way to the train station. The number of soldiers with large guns increased even more! The train was full, so we found a minibus to take us to the city of Hat Yai, where we could get another minibus to Krabi and out of the conflict zone. I was still nervous but I didn't have to be.

About every few kilometres there were blockades set up to slow vehicles down as soldiers checked inside (with very large guns). After awhile I began to feel very well protected, and of course we made it to Krabi without even a scratch. The food here is amazing.

The "conflict" in Southern Thailand is rarely brought up on the news, but over 2000 people have been killed- both by these "terrorists" on the Muslim side and by Thai soldiers. While the separatists have never targetted innocent civilians in the past, when the military coup happened a few years ago the government took a verrrry heavy handed approch to the conflict- which included brutally killing over a hundred young men found with machetes and strangling another 70 soon after. Thing escalated after this, and the separatists began more indiscriminate acts of violence, stating that "they would kill all Thai Buddhists".

It's a very sad situation. And it's taking place in a very beautiful part of Thailand, which rich culture. I hope some peace comes to the area someday. I'm glad we went through there, even if we weren't really supposed to.

Random Pictures from Pat's Camera

2009-04-08T05:05:00.001-07:00

We've been travelling with two cameras and finally we have a fast enough connection to upload some serious photos... here they are, in no particular order!

The view from our little hut in Perhentian Cecil.

The Ol' Swimmin' Hole. Teman Negara, Malaysia.

Taman Negara.

On the Canopy Walk, Taman Negara.

View from the canopy in Taman Negara.

Pat's shirt says "Save the Earth", incidentally enough, posing in front of the Petronas Towers, Kuala Lumpur.

Teman Negara National Park, Malaysia.

Out for a little walk.

On the Skybridge, Petronas Towers, Kuala Lumpur.

View from the Skybridge.

My dream really HAS come true!

Kuala Lumpur's public gardens.

KL

KL

KL

KL

Central Market: Kota Bahru. Old Man Making Roti Canai.

I asked for my tea to go... Jerantut Station, Malaysia.

China Town, Kuala Lumpur.

Korean advertising in Melaka.

Portuguese Egg Tarts in Melaka. Amazing.

The night food market in Melaka.

Food market in Melaka.

Posing with "Cat" at Nora's Homestay in Bukit Lawang.

Bukit Lawang

The crazy bus to Bukit Lawang. Notice the motorbike and spare tractor tire? Anything goes!

Our jungle trekking guide, Sanur and I on the shady bus to Bukit Lawang.

The beautiful mosque in Medan, Sumatra.

On the balcony of our guesthouse in Medan, wearing the Batik shirt my honourary Javanese sisters gave me on the ship.

Waiting... and waiting.... and waiting... for the driver to take us to Medan from Belawan.

The crazy port of Belawan, Sumatra.

My roomies. Meet sister, Auntie, Janine and sister.

Pat and I and some of our many fans in Yogyakarta...

Working hard, or hardly working? Guard at the Sultan's Palace, Yogyakarta.

Thoroughly impressed, apparently, with Yogya.

Lotus flower, Ubud, Bali.

Art stands in Ubud, Bali.

Pat at the Raja's palace in Ubud.

Once a golden retriever lover, always a golden retriever lover.

Babi Gulung! Ubud, Bali.

Enjoying my Babi.

Getting tired of their "steal the glasses" game. Monkey Forest,

Temple at the Monkey Forest, Ubud.

Taking a little nap on our way to Gili Trawangan, Indonesia.

Our first day in Bali... overwhelmed by artistry!

Falling in love all over again... with Malaysia, that is.

2009-04-08T04:00:00.001-07:00

Hello Blogoshpere,

I would just like to say sorry for not posting for like... a week? After we left Kuala Lumpur, we headed into the Peninsular Malaysian jungle of Taman Negara, and after a few days there, we took the jungle railway (a very long, dusty, hot and beautiful train ride through the jungle- stopping at every remote village possible) to Kota Bahru in the Northeast. From there, we took a boat to Pulau Perhentian Cecil, or, Small Perhentian Island, located just off the coast of Northeastern Malaysia.

Let me share how we were feeling about Malaysia from the time of departure from Kuala Lumpur to the time of arrival on the Perhentians. Pretty blah. Blah is actually a great word to describe how we were feeling about Malaysia.

Yeah, like I said before, no one hassles you here, the infrastructure is great and the first world comforts are appreciated. Blah. When we arrived in Taman Negara I'm not quite sure what we were expecting. At the risk of sounding travel snobby, I will go ahead and say that, quite frankly, we saw it all in the Sumatran jungle. And we didn't see anything in Teman Negara.

That being said, we didn't really make a huge attempt to see anything, either. We could have gone for night hikes, three or four day treks, fishing, trekking to nomadic tribal areas (quite specifically, the Orang Asli people of Malaysia). We could have done a lot of stuff! But to be even more honest, the weather was sorta crappy and we were both in a major state of tropical burnout. Like, if I had to look at another monkey (there were even monkeys in Kuala Lumpur) I was going to puke. Luckily (?) we didn't see monkeys of any kind in Teman Negara. We didn't even see any leeches, which the jungle is apparently crawling with 365 days of the year.

So what did we do? Well... not much. We did an interesting (read: terrifying) canopy walk amongst the tops of the tallest trees in the jungle. There were bridges set up between the trees and you could walk around for about half an hour before the walk ends. What everyone failed to mention to me was that the "bridges" were, in fact, made of rope which made them sway... a lot. I tried not to panic and even managed to take a look around a few times! Of course, Patrick enjoyed the whole thing and took some pictures... which you will see later. Then we did a smaller hike up a small mountain and around a loop that brought us back to the National Park headquarters.

The next day, we decided to *not* hike anymore and instead go swimming in the river. This was actually nice, and there were even little "doctor fish" in the river nipping at my toes and giving me a free pedicure. Thanks, little dudes. As it rained torrentially every afternoon, we spent the rest of our time in our little hut run by a devout Muslim (and therefore extremely hospitable and thoughtful) family, reading books and playing cards.

All of the restaurants in this area are found on barges in the river, which was a fun experience (even though the food wasn't as good as we had been getting). By the third day we decided we had had enough of the jungle and set off for our next destination: The Perhentian Islands.

My thoughts on this: Finally, more time on the beach. It's about damn time. We hadn't seen a beach since Bali, and I was totes burnt out and needed some relaxation (Because, believe it or not, backpacking is hard work. Just ask the pinched nerves in my neck.)

In order to get to these islands, you need to bus or take the train to Kota Bahru, a small but bustling city of about 400,000 people, with a night market AND a day market for all your yummy food needs. Can you tell I like markets? After taking the Jungle Railway through... the jungle... for about 8 hours, we arrived in Kota Bahru and stayed the night. Early the next morning I went to a clinic to see the doc about my nervy neck and then we took a cab to the port village of Kuala Besut- the jumping off point to the Perhentians.

I wasn't expecting much. By this time in our journey, Pat and I were actually missing Indonesia- despite the hassle. At least the locals talked to us. At least we ate consistently good food. At least we saw a decent jungle (ok ok, no more jabs below the belt, it's our own fault we didn't have any decent jungle time in Teman Negara).

When we got our tickets to the island, I was angry because I thought they were wayyyyyy overcharging us because they thought we were just another bunch of rich tourists. It turns out what I thought was a one way ticket was actually a round trip ticket, and I was almost impolite to several people because of my err in judgement. I was downright snappy when we arrived to Cecil Perhentian Island in the midst of a huge thunder and lightning storm. I said some stuff under my breath to the guy who charged us two rinngit to taxi us and our bags to the beach. We were soaked straight through from the torrential rain, and I was really scared being out on the open water in a lightning storm. That's not an irrational fear, right? I mean, that's dangerous, isn't it?

Well, I had expected as much. Crappy Malaysia. Typical, really. That's what you get for being so developed.

I was so, so wrong.

We stopped at a little cafe/resthouse and had some tea and roti canai (fried Indian bread served with a curry dipping sauce... I have been eating an average of two per day...) and had a chat with the friendly manager. She was full, but she pointed us out in the direction of some cheap guesthouses on the other end of the beach.

Actually, once the rain stopped and the sun came out, we found a great little hut for 25 rinngit (about 8 bucks) per night and the most AMAZING view of the ocean. We had a nice little veranda and a mosquito net. What more could we need?

Well, I hadn't thought about it at the time, but we could certainly use some wildlife, yes? And that's what we got. Every night something unidentifyable would scurry into our room and thrash around our bags until the wee hours of the morning. During the day, we were occasionally greeted by the largest lizard I have ever seen (in the wild) in my life. It was a massive moniter lizard, at least a metre in length. It looked like a Komodo Dragon, so that kinda makes up for us missing out on those guys.

Pat, of course, looked into doing some diving while we were there, and actually, the diving guys were renting rooms right next to ours. We had a great time chatting and having drinks with them- they were lots of fun- and Pat had a good time diving (although he says the Gilis were better) and saw some stingrays and sharks and a moray eel. I didn't ever want to leave, but there are no ATM's on the island so, before we ran out of money, we returned (sadly) to Kota Bahru today.

Don't fret, though, beachlovers. We are on our way to Surin Island in Southwestern Thailand, where we will hopefully see some whalesharks... or at least Pat will while scuba diving and then tell me about it. And I'll take lots of pretty pictures. Until then!

Our little hut is hiding on that hillside. It had such a great view! This part of the island is called Long Beach.

Ahhh. Perfection. They didn't have beaches like these in the Gilis.

On his way to dinner. Luckily, the place where we ate also showed movies around 8 PM.

The geckos are a lot bigger here! I wish I had gotten a pic of the moniter lizard.

Our wet welcome. Can you see how enthused I am to be there?

The lovely clear waters.

The beach at sunset. The perfect place for lovers.

O Hai. I'm getting some much needed vitamin D.

Beach beach beach. Love it.

Kuala Lumpur: I really like it here.

2009-03-31T05:23:00.000-07:00

The more time I spend here, the more I like it! It's got something for everyone- gorgeous architecture, expensive malls, cheap malls, delicious food, markets, culture- and everything is cheap! I really, really like Kuala Lumpur.

Today we went to the Petronas Towers to visit the "skybridge" and were told the only available time was at 5:30 PM. We had no idea the skybridge was so popular, or that KL would be so congested with tourists on March 31st. A strange time to visit, I would think, unless you were a teacher in Korea at the end of your contract. But no! All rich tourists around that part of town (the twin towers are also home to the fanciest mall in the city).

Anyway, we got our *free* tickets for 5: 30 and went in search of a place we heard existed in this city: Wendy's. WENDY'S!

Patrick had never been to Wendy's as they don't have them in Ireland. There are plenty of McDonald's, KFC's and Burger King's in Korea, but no Wendy's (although I believe there are some in Japan). That means I have officially been Wendy's deprived for far too long a time, and after all my talk about it, Patrick was sufficiently intrigued.

We didn't really know where it was; I just knew it existed because a friend of mine had been here over Christmas and had posted pictures of Wendy's food (he had also been deprived for some time) all over his facebook photo album. So, first we asked a police officer. He said proooobably we would find it in Times Square (yes, KL has a Times Square). But where was Times Square?

We went to the tourist information centre. The man gave us a map and told us to take the monorail (yes, KL has a monorail... monorail... MONORAILLLLLL! Oh my. Excuse my bursting into Simpson's show tunes, please.) to Times Square.

We arrived in Times Square. Another big mall, with many levels. We checked the map. Where is the Wendy's? No Wendy's on the mall map; it must be outside in the street. We stepped out and asked the security guard. He told us Wendy's actually was in the mall, on the third level. Hallelujah! We finally found the Wendy's! My spicy chicken sandwich, baked potato and frosty tasted extra good today.

Afterwards, we took a walk in the city's forest reserve, had a cup of tea at the base of the KL Tower (which looks a lot like Namsan Tower in Seoul), and walked back to the mall at the Petronas to catch one last movie before our trip to the skybridge. When we arrived to the skybridge entrance area, we were first ushered into a small theatre where we watched a 3-D short film about how great Petronas, the main petroleum company in Malaysia is, and all the wonderful things they do for the community. Blah blah blah. They failed to mention anything remotely environmental and didn't spend any time during the film talking about their mall filled with brand name designer stores. Imagine that.

The Petronas Towers have 88 floors, and they remain the tallest set of twin buildings in the world. They are no longer the tallest building in the world; that honour now belongs to Teipei. And, of course, the CN Tower in Toronto is still the tallest tower in the world. They discuss all this beforehand.

We didn't go all the way to the 88th floor as the skybridge is located on the 44th, right in the centre of the two buildings. Great view, but a bit disappointing because we wanted to go all the way up. We asked who occupied the top floor and a worker said "Uhhh... I think the Prime Minister?"

Anyways, the computer is not letting me put up any pictures today so KL will have to make their appearance another time. We are off to Taman Negara National Park tomorrow for another bit of trekking as well as some fishing! Looking forward to it, but I hate to leave this super cool city. It's just as well. I have no money to spend on shopping, and that's what this place is all about.

We Like-a Melaka

2009-03-30T04:11:00.000-07:00

We've been in Kuala Lumpur for a few days now, and I am beginning to see how it could be a nice place to live for a year or two! I know, these are bad thoughts (mom). BUT if I got offered a fabulous job and Pat got an equally fabulous job (in a perfect world), I would move here. On two conditions:

1. Air conditioning

2. A big, fat paycheck to spend on my big, fat, fabulous lifestyle.

It's actually more of a pipedream than anything...

On a different note, we really enjoyed our time in Melaka. Right now I'm going to list all the ways that Malaysia is different from Indonesia (for your viewing pleasure):

1. In Malaysia, there are few motorcycles. In Indonesia, there are few cars.

2. In Malaysia, the drivers actually drive defensively. They slow down when they see you at the side of the road. They smile and stop as you walk across the street (just the street, not a crosswalk). They give you a little wave, just so it's understood that they're not going to run you down at the first chance. Pat is bemused at my sheer awe of how nice the drivers are here, but for me, it's like a little slice of home.

3. If you step out into the street in Indonesia, you are doomed right from the beginning. First, there are the shop clerks. They shout at you as you walk past. Second, there are the beggars. Adults send their children out at night to add to the household income, which is something nobody should support. Third, and most agressively, are the transporters. And by transporters, I mean men on motorbikes, men on rickshaws, men on motorbikes with a basket attached, men on bicycles with a basket attached, men on horses, and then there are just the regular taxi and bemo (kinda like a small bus) drivers whose goal in life is to charge you, a foreigner, 100 times what they would normally charge a local. In Malaysia, we don't really need to use taxis- so far everything is pretty walkable. But when a taxi driver asks if we need a lift and we politely say "No, thank you", they just smile at you and say, "Ok, thank you!"

4. If you are trying not to get ripped off in Indonesia and you find someone you think might tell you the truth about the actual cost of things, they will usually lie to you and make you think your only option is the most expensive one. You can't really trust anyone- sometimes people genuinely help you and the others cheat you as if they're in cahoots with the bus company. This includes police officers. In Malaysia, people have actively told us who will rip us off, who to stay away from and have always listed the cheapest and most reliable options to us when questioned.

5. In Indonesia, you can be sure that you will probably need to sanitize your hands after washing them with tap water. You need to brush your teeth with bottled water. Don't get ice cubes in your drinks. Padang food (an Indonesian specialty where all of the dishes are cooked and piled up in the window and you choose which ones you want to eat and pay as you go) has usually been sitting around for a long time and you should only pick the restaurants that look like they have a good turnover rate. Coming to Malaysia, this weight has been lifted off my shoulders (at least for now). We still brush our teeth with bottled water, but it's my understanding that we don't really need to as the water is treated- like in Korea. They still have excellent Padang food here but, as Lonely Planet puts it, minus the flies. I have been enjoying decent bathrooms and refreshing showers.

That's about all I have at the moment, but don't worry because our journey through Malaysia is far from over! Mostly, we're just enjoying the nice, first world amenities. We watched a movie at the theatre last night. We went to an amazing mall, and when we went outside looking for the Petronas Towers we finally realized that they were directly above us. The mall was inside the towers. The food is a yummy combination of Malay, Chinese and Indian fare and it's all cheap, cheap, cheap!

Back to Melaka:

We liked it. We stayed at Shirah's Guesthouse where the friendly owners enjoy having a beer with their tenants on the rooftop, and often invite us out to famous restaurants around town. You should stay there if you ever go to Melaka. The rooms are cheap, and the ambiance is lovely.

Melaka is about the same size (geographically) as Halifax but it seems more like Toronto to me, with a China Town and a Little India, etc etc. It has a colonial past, just like Nova Scotia, only in Melaka the Portuguese first took it over, and then handed it over to the Dutch, who eventually gave it to the British. This gives the city a lot of European flair (and delicious Portugese pastries) as well as the exoticism associated with the Malay, Chinese and Indian cultures combined. Melaka, if you haven't figured it out already, was a very important city on the trade route. Here are some pictures!

One of the many fruit stalls in China Town.

Spices and dried fruits in China Town.

Hangin' out with iguanas outside the old Portuguese fortress.

A very flambouyant mode of transportation. They have flashing coloured lights and techno music blaring from them at night.

Entrance to the old Portuguese fortress.

Our delicious Padang lunch. The black chicken rendang is highly recommended.

One of the many Chinese noodle joints.

Mediterranean in colour, but decidedly Chinese in style.

A very charming monk making his way slowly down the street. Have you ever seen a monk hurrying anywhere? I haven't.

The bright colours of Little India...

Pics from Bukit Lawang... in no particular order...

2009-03-28T07:30:00.000-07:00

Me and the Girls at Nora's.

Meet Damien! He's Nora's nephew. His Mom teaches English at the community school. Great lady.

Trekmate Rob, from Vancouver, in one of the motorcycle taxis we take to the bus stop outside the village.

Meet Yen and our favourite Bukit Lawang feline, aptly named "Cat". Yen was super cute and gave me lessons in Bahasa Indonesia.

The very vertical climb down to the river! More vertical than this picture shows, even. You would probably get dizzy from the verticalness if the picture showed it more accurately. Did I mention vertical?

Something is wrong with this picture- how did I get as tall as Pat? I suppose the jungle brings out the beast in me.

Patrick, posing with beautiful Sandra (Queen of the Sumatran jungle).

Isn't she wise looking? And she really loves her three month old bebe.

Sooooo photogenic, Sandra. Tyra would love you.

One more with the bebe, for good measure.

Saying a sad goodbye to Jackie...

Jackie is smothering me with her love; that's why you can't see me in this picture. Actually, she is eyeing the bananas.

Nom nom nom nom nom.

Lots of hugs.

She sure loves bananas. Her bebe wants some banana, too.

Sharing a quiet moment.

Rob crossing the river. We camped on the other side.

Kisses.

The very poisonous centipede. Pat took the picture and I ran away.

The tuuuuuubes!

Those little thieving macaques.

Keeping a close eye on the little shits.

Sanur and his assistant, cooking up a delicious storm.

Mr. Gibbon says: What's in yer bag?

Mina, the angry orangutan.

Sandra, running away from Mina...

Wild, pregnant momma.

Nice flowers everywhere!

Another wild one.

And another...

Cute little Thomas Leaf monkey!

Funky Monkey in the tree.

This one's a youngin.

This one's a dude. Notice the beard?

Last, but not least, the village of Bukit Lawang. Beautiful place; beautiful people; beautiful monleys.

Bukit Lawang... Left Me Speechless.

2009-03-27T06:06:00.000-07:00

Hey All!

I am currently sitting in a small internet cafe in Melaka, Malaysia... that's right, this morning we boarded a small, high speed ferry from the port town of Dumai in Sumatra and arrived here two hours later. That means our first country and the first leg of our trip are finished. Sniff.

Before I start babbling on about how cool Malaysia is (ah, the comforts of a sorta kinda first world country!) I need t tell you everything about our time in Bukit Lawang, Sumatra. Unfortunately, the internet here won't allow me to upload pictures so they'll have to wait until tomorrow... but I promise: they're good.

I couldn't wait to leave the disgusting guesthouse where we were staying in Medan (especially coming home after dinner to what I suspected to be bedbugs crawling all over the bed... I made sure the light was on all night so the intruders would be scared off). In the morning we had a yummy breakfast and saw some more CNN World News (seriously, what's happening to me?) and, politely refusing all offers to give us a "good package deal" to Bukit Lawang (the village where one can go to the orangutan rehabilitation centre and go trekking in the jungle), we took a cab and boarded what looked like a hundred year old bus. It cost us about a buck to get to Bukit Lawang on this bus, which was about three hours away from Medan. I wasn't exactly happy to be on such an old, falling apart bus, but I took a deep breath (and some xanax) and suddenly, we were on our way (slowly, so as not to lose important bus parts).

Saying that there were some potholes on this road would be an understatement. Saying there were craters on this road would be a little more accurate (but only a little bit). We dipped and were thrown out of our seats, we had to hang on for dear life and I prayed silently the entire trip- especially after we passed a similar bus that had literally fallen off the narrow road and into the ditch (no casualties, we were assured, there just wasn't room on the road for two vehicles and, apparently, it was a busy day).

On the way there, a small, quiet man introduced himself as Sanur. We chatted for a bit before he revealed to us that he was, in fact, a guide for jungle trekking. We knew that once we arrived we would be bombarded with people wanting to be our guide, so we treated Sanur warily. We asked to see his guiding liscense; he complied. He had two of them- one from Medan and one from Bukit Lawang. He showed us his comment book from former trekkers- all gave excellent reports. He grew up in Bukit Lawang and knew the jungle like the back of his hand, and since the prices are all fixed on trekking anyway, we agreed to join his trek the next day.

Th nice part about meeting him on the bus was, once we arrived, no one bugged us because everyone knew Sanur. We got a motorbike ride into town and made the arrangements for our trek. I looked around and saw a familiar sight: a beautiful, rushing river surrounded on all sides by beautiful greenery. Was I home in July or something? One thing is for sure, I immediately felt at home.

We walked along the river until we found a decent guesthouse to stay for the night and keep our big packs while trekking. If you ever go to Bukit Lawang, you should stay at Nora's Homestay. The girls that run the place treat you like family and they are amazing chefs. Their veggie soup has more veggies than soup. Their Mie Kuah (noodles in broth with egg and veggies) was perfectly spiced with star anise and cloves. They freshly cut, flour and fry their french fries. Everything is cheap and plentiful- including the rooms at around 3 dollars a night.

We had a good overnight rest at Nora's and, in the morning, we enjoyed a quick banana pancake and some aromatic tea before heading out to meet Sanur at 8 AM. When we met up with him, he gave me a pair of hikling boots and a smaller bag to keep a change of clothes and my water bottle in. He took us across a rickety footbridge and soon enough, we were meeting our fellow trekkers. All guys. I felt a little apprehensive- not because I was the only girl (I'm fairly used to that), but because I'm a weakling and I don't exercise (unless you count yoga) and I thought I would be holding the guys back. Either way, I couldn't turn back now.

Sanur started leading us into the rainforest, pointing out different plants that grew wildly along the way- coffee berries, lemongrass, cloves, mangoes... Already we could tell that he knew his stuff about the jungle. Maybe about half an hour into the trek, we saw some "funky monkeys". Their real name escapes me, but they have mohawks and are the coolest looking monkeys I've ever seen. A half hour after this, we came across and entire family of Thomas Leaf Monkeys. They were quite curious about us and came really close, allowing us to get some great pictures. We were having a wonderful time, but still no orangutans!

The previous afternoon, Patrick and I had been to the rehab centre during feeding time. We saw several semi-wild orangutans and got pretty close to them (a young orangutan even held my hand until a "ranger" grabbed him and started hitting him with a stick- come on, I know I shouldn't have touched him but he SMILED at me, while reaching his hand out- no hint of malice; no need for stick abuse). Anyway, about two hours into the trek we saw our first wild orangutan. It was a large male (the dudes all have beards). Suddenly, it seemed the orangutans were everywhere we went! We got some great pictures and the younger ones were quite curious about us, too.

After having some lunch and seeing yet another, pregnant, wild orangutan, we made a steep descent down a hill and came to a clear stream. We heard something. Sanur knew the semi-wild orangutan before she even reached us, and broke out into a huge smile.

"It's Jackie! She's ok, she's ok", he pressed a banana into Patrick's hand and Jackie the orangutan arrived, she too wearing a broad smile. What an amazing animal. She went straight to Patrick and gently took the banana from his hand. Jackie had been successfully rehabilitated and released into the wild; however, she seems to have fond memories of humans and truly loves people, even now that she is living on her own (with a small baby firmly attached to her back). The Jackie Bliss would not last long, though. We heard another orangutan coming and Sanur's face darkened.

"It's Mina. We need to get out of here".

Mina, it seemed, had the opposite disposition to Jackie, who, we noticed, also ran away as soon as she saw Mina coming. Sanur lead us in the opposite direction of Mina while his assistant stayed down there to prevent her from following us. We watched him as, first, he tried to make her happy with fruit. She would have none of it, and you could tell she was angry. Finally, Sanur's assistant splashed her with water and she back off a bit (orangutans hate getting wet). We made our way up the hill when we heard the assistant yell something to Sanur.

"Run! Quickly!" Sanur said to us.

He didn't need to tell me twice! I don't think I've even run up a mountain so fast. Seeing the look on my face when it was finally ok to stop, Sanur had a big laugh and patted me on the head. I was quite frightened!

Not five minutes later, we came across a family of Black Gibbons. Forget the macaques from my last monkey experience, the gibbons are the cutest monkeys in the world. Seriously. However, one bit Sanur a few years back and he was traumatized by it, so we all kept our distance and he wouldn't let us open our bags (they would pounce at the sound of a zipper, thinking we carried food). We got some cute pictures, though!

After an even steeper descent (it took about an hour from the top to the bottom) down our final hill before setting up camp, we arrived at the banks of the river. Covered in dirt and sweat (and in Pat's case, a leech sucking blood from his foot), the river was a beautiful sight. We crossed over to our campsite and had a beautiful, refreshing swim before Sanur and his assistant made us a huge dinner of veggie curry, spicy fried tempeh (tofu that hasn't been completely fermented), sweet and sour chicken and mounds of fresh rice and tea. We spent the evening talking and Sanur's assistant kept us entertained with card tricks and riddles.

I woke up in the morning to more monkeys. The damn macaques. The same ones from Bali. They kept a close eye on our tent, and an even closer eye on our breakfast that Sanur's assistant was cooking (this time, yummy egg and veggie fry up with toast and fresh tomatoes). We were entertained by them all morning as we fed them bits and pieces of our breakfast.

The plan for the morning was a two hour hike followed by tubing down the rapids, back to the town. Our trek was almost finished, and I was sad because I had wanted to spend more time with Jackie, the nice orangutan before angry Mina showed up. We crossed the river and began the climb upward. This may have been the hardest climb of my life. Luckily, there were plenty of branches and roots to help me climb. Unluckily, we came across a very poisonous centipede and I was scared to touch the ground after that (time for one more xanax...). After an hour, we finally made it to the top and I was utterly, completely spent. Exhausted. We rested for about two minutes, eating some oranges that Sanur had brought for a snack, when we heard an orangutan coming through the trees. It was JACKIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was beyond happiness.

I had my orange in my hand when she slowly, gracefully approached me. I held the orange out for her and she took it from my hand with her mouth, very gently, with no teeth.

"It's ok to touch her; she loves people", Sanur told me.

I sat on my hunches and she slowly put her arms around me. Her baby was still on her back, and Sanur gave me some bananas to feed her. Jackies hugged me and hugged me, and when it was time to let another trekmate have a turn, she kept one foot and one hand on my arm and still held on to me. What an amazing animal- so close to a human! So beautiful and smart!

Suddenly, we heard another orangutan coming. Fearing Mina, I started walking down the path, but Sanur called after me- "It's ok, it's only Sandra!"

We had seen Sandra and her baby at the feeding centre. While she wasn't as placid as Jackie, she had a kind, intelligent face- perfect for photgraphing. She protectively kept her baby on her back while she accepted bananas from us. Her baby poked his little head, staring at us with huge, wide eyes. The perfect end to a strenuous uphill hike. Totally worth it.

We finally made one more steep descent and arrived upstream from where we had camped. Sanur's assistant was there already, and he had tied five inner tubes together (we would be tubing as a group and Sanur's assistant would be steering us away from rocks). We climbed in and made our way back to Bukit Lawang, after a perfect two day hike, after seeing and experiencing more than I had ever expected. I was exhausted but so, so happy!

The rest of the day was spent relaxing at Nora's, talking to the girls about recipes and the school that their children attend. Bukit Lawang is a great community with strng roots. They work together to create better educations for their kids. They recycle (the first place in Indonesia that we saw). They educate tourists about the delicate ecosystems and abhor illegal logging and slash and burn forestry.

I should mention that, only a few years ago, the entire village was decimated by a flash flood. Over 250 people were killed, and in this small community, that meant that everyone lost several people that they loved. They still mourn their loss, but they have rebuilt and are resiliant. Sanur said he and his family went uphill when he noticed the river was getting too high. His neighbour laughed at him, saying nothing would happen, and his neighbour's entire family was killed. They have since rebuilt on higher ground and take more care during rainy season, but I won't say I wasn't nervous during the daily torrential downpours and scary thunder storms.

We left, sadly saying goodbye to the staff at Nora's, and took another rickety bus back to Medan. We took an overnight bus to Dumai, and then the ferry to Malaysia. We are happy to be here, but we know that Bukit Lawang will probably be our most precious memory of our entire trip.

Soeharto's Last Erection

2009-03-22T06:06:00.000-07:00

Freedom Square in Jakarta; the phallic structure in the middle of the square is jokingly known as Soeharta's (the former Communist dictator) Last Erection. From what I gather, it's about half and half when asking an Indonesian what they thought of the man. You either love him or hate him, I guess. And if you loved him, chances are you do NOT love his daughter, who is currently running for president.

Jakarta, near the National Museum.

Our main dinner haunt on Jalal Jaksa, the backpacker street.

O, hai. This is Nori! We didn't know he even lived with us until we went to investigate where all the meowing was coming from at our place in Yogya. We thought there was a litter of kittens that kept waking us up in the morning, but it turns out it was just Nori, meowing like a cat. A defense mechanism, perhaps? Or a personality disorder? Either way, he was a beautiful bird who should have been living his twilight years in the jungle as opposed to chained up outside our guesthouse...

A common occurance in Yogya- young girls asking us to complete surveys for their English projects. They didn't just ask dumb, everyday questions, but on one occasion about Indonesia and the environment... on another, Manchester United. You can tell which group Patrick got along with, yes?

I thought it would be inappropriate and ignorant of us to leave out a few pictures of Jakarta... even though we didn't really take many! Here are a couple from Yogyakarta and a few from Jakarta. Can you tell we're biased towards Yogya?

Either way, we're not even on Java anymore. No, siree, we have officially made it to the city of Medan and the island of Sumatra (I think it's the third biggest in the world after Greenland and Borneo, but feel free to correct). I know that Medan is the third biggest city in Indonesia. This leads me to beg the question: why do Indonesia's biggest and most populous cities have the crappiest budget accomodation? Is it because there are more wealthy visitors than backpackers? In Medan's case, I would think not. While our guesthouse for the night is dirt cheap, it is still covered in... well... dirt. And the bathroom is pretty intolerable (and I'm saying this after three days at sea with nothing more than a hole in the floor for a toilet). There's no shower, just a bucket of water to douse yourself with... and this bucket will not be filled by you, because there are no running taps! Let's compare to Yogya, where we paid the same amount per night with a private bathroom (no frills, but there was at least a shower head). Something doesn't seem right!

It's only for one night though, so I am beyond allowed to complain. We are off to Bukit Lawang tomorrow, where we will a) find excellent budget accomodation in a jungle/riverside setting, b) will be able to watch workers at the orangutan rehabilitation centre feed the primate residents a bland lunch of milk and bananas (so they will be encouraged for forage for further, tastier meals) and, c) go on a two day, one night long jungle trek to view wild orangutans in their natural habitat, which is becoming smaller by the day due to slash and burn farming and illegal logging- hence the need for (overflowing) orangutan rehab centres. They're homes are slowly becoming nonexistent. They say that the wise face of an orangutan is forever burned into your memory. Stay tuned for a first hand account. I may never come home and simply choose a life in the wild with the orangutans. On second thought I wouldn't want to seem to be copying Jane Goodall. How unoriginal!

Even for it's lack of decent accomodation on a backpacker's budget, I like Medan. There is an absolutely beautiful and famous mosque just across the street, and we ate dinner while listening to the final call to prayer. I even found poutine on the menu at the restaurant where we had dinner with some new friends, although in Medan they seemed to be called "Dick'y Chips" (?). At the restaurant they had English World News on the TV (it was CNN, the bane of my political existence, but I still watched with relish). Ok, so maybe I just really like that restaurant. We won't have much of a chance to explore the city, but already, I feel safe (knock on wood) and happy here.

Maybe you're wondering how our boat ride from Java to Sumatra was? Did you even know we did that? I don't remember if I mentioned it previously. Anyway, on the 20th we boarded a large Pelni Ship (the national shipping company of Indonesia and, therefore, the most seaworthy and safest) and went to our separate rooms assigned by gender (did my Mom call the shipping company beforehand? It's an Islamic thing, I suppose) and basically hung out, read and ate for three days. It was nice!

It became even nicer on our last day at sea. The first night I was kept up by my chatty roommates, who simply had to get up at 2 AM for showers and a nice girl talk before settling in (finally) after I ate my ship cafeteria breakfast at 6:30 AM. On the third day I woke up realizing that my roommates were different. They were staring at me. Smiling. And they spoke a little English (hallelujah).

I quickly became part of their family, the mother, aunt and two daughters, and became a "sister" to my other two roommates, who were twin sisters. One family were practising Muslims and the other weren't. They told me that in Indonesia the difference between girls who wore headscarves and the girls who didn't was that one family was practising, the same way my parents are practising Catholics, and the other family wasn't practising. As simple as that. And as accepting as that. The non-practising family made me eat mounds of dragonfruit (yum) and the practising family went through my makeup and told me I looked like Britney Spears (um... thanks?).

I found out that one twin sister was nine months pregnant with a baby boy (she was wearing shapeless clothes specifically for Muslim women so one couldn't really tell) and, once again, I was asked to give a name for the baby. Much to Patrick's chagrin, I said "Matthew", both because it's my brother's name and because I thought it could also be a nice Muslim name (to which Pat said that Patrick was also a nice Muslim name, or at least as Muslim as the name Matthew. I told him at this rate, I would be asked to name another baby tomorrow and would call it Patrick, but of course he was only kidding to begin with). Then, the other twin presented me with a gift- a beautiful Batik shirt. Really quite stylish. And she gave me her email, telling me she would send a picture of "Matthew" as soon as he came along. A great way to end an enjoyable voyage.

As we continue to travel overland without the use of planes (which was originally planned around my fear of flying), I've really been thinking and reading about how environmentally friendly we are being, simply by taking planes out of the scenario as much as possible. We made friends with a couple on board the ship- the girl is Swiss and the guy is Aussie- and they are travelling completely overland, by use of trains or ships, to Switzwerland. I thought this was cool as I just finished reading a set of short stories about people who never use planes. It's something to think about and, I'm sure, something that will keep coming up in my posts as we meet more people.

Until next time! XO.

Bromo and Borobudur, as promised:

2009-03-19T05:48:00.001-07:00

We have been in Jakarta for about a day now, and I think we're both ready to leave! Other than the yummy homemade fries the little restaurant down the way makes and the cool music the guy at the internet cafe plays, we haven't really felt comfortable here and don't feel very bad about spending so little time getting to know the place!

We often support the Muslim countries that get a bad rap from certain governments, and Indonesia is no exception to the rule. The people here are beautiful and tolerant and they have a gorgeous country that everyone who gets a chance should visit. However, there are always some hardliners in the world who make beautiful places a little more scary than is necessary, and most of the hardliners in Indonesia seem to live in Jakarta. Not that we've had a hard time with anything; just the reaction some people have had to me (probably because I'm wearing shorts) has been a bit unsettling. I try to be sensitive to the culture, but there is no way I can wear jeans in Jakarta. It is so, so hot here! Side note* If every other woman in Jakarta was dressed so conservatively, I would be too, out of respect. But lots of women wear more revealing clothes than me!

As always, though, the vast majority of people are kind and smiling. None of our stuff (knock on wood) has been stolen, which we hear is the normal sort of annoyance here. But then, we heard that about Yogyakarta, too and had no problem. We heard that about Bali too, but they just scammed us there. No real harm done!

So this morning we went to the Tourist Information Centre to have them call and make sure our boat to Sumatra exists (apparently, sometimes they don't) and everything seems to be running smoothly. After that, we went to the National Museum. I must say, I wasn't too psyched about the idea. Someone told us to go to the museum in Yogyakarta, too, and all that was there were a bunch of dioramas documenting the communist takeover after WWII. Lonely Planet said this was a good museum, though, so we walked through the crazy traffic and got there just in time for a (*free*) English guide of the premises.

This is a great museum, with lots of artifacts, a knowledgable staff and really cool exhibits (like the entire room devoted to stuff found on shipwrecks). I also liked the exhibit of the different houses found over the archipelago. So interesting and creative! We spent a few hours at the museum and then went back downtown for lunch. After coming across some mean looking politicos who were very not happy to see me in my shorts and pink sunglasses, we changed direction and went to a "fast food" indian place for lunch. Yummy grub.

Then, because we are finally in a city with stuff that is slightly familiar to us, we went to the cinema and watched a terrible movie (they only had two choices and neither were great). Maybe the selection will be better in Kuala Lumpur; our next urban stopover. Stay tuned!

Bromo:

View from the horse I took back. I think he was as tired as I was, and I spared him the walk up the hill...

Bromo's belching, stinky gut (so much sulphur; my throat burned).

Borobudur:

Kickin' It in Djodja

2009-03-17T04:13:00.000-07:00

Well, we've been in Yogyakarta (or as the locals call it, Djodjakarta) for about four days now and feel completely at home! People in the street back off when you say "no, thank you", everywhere you go people are smiling at you, we are staying at an extremely clean guesthouse for approximately five dollars a night, and we're meeting lots of cool fellow backpackers from around the world. We're quite sad to be leaving such a beautiful city full of such kind people. The locals tell us we won't find the same situation in Jakarta, where we are heading tomorrow.

When we first arrived in Djodja, we were extremely on guard and were wary of anyone trying to help us in any way... after all, that's how we kept getting screwed over in Bali! Looking back on our cool behaviour the night we arrived, I feel a little bit bad because the people in this city don't want your money. Indeed, Yogyakarta is a city renowned for it's intellectualism and rich cultural Batik heritage. Many people here have regular jobs, and almost everyone speaks English. When they see a foreigner walking down the street, they just want to meet you and find out where you're from and, most often, they want to know what we think of their city, which they are extremely proud of.

At the moment a presidential election is underway and you can feel the apprehension everywhere. People are afraid of what will happen on election day. Indonesia is still a very new democratic state and not everyone is convinced that a handover will happen smoothly and ethically. I love asking new Indonesian acquaintances which of the 36 political hopefuls they support and why. Everyone in Djodja reeeeeally loves their Sultan, and who he supports, they tend to support. They know he has their best interests in mind. It's so interesting.

When a language barrier comes into play, mere hand gestures and big smiles really make a difference. The other day we were walking down a side street after buying some batik art at an art school. As we passed by a man wearing a tee shirt bearing the slogan of the most popular political party, we heard him say something that sounded like "snake". We stopped and gave him a quizzical look and once again he said, "snake" and pointed to a bucket in the road. Sure enough, inside the bucket was a medium sized python. I was like, woah.

"Can I touch it?", I motioned.

He nodded his head.

"Biting?", I motioned.

He shook his head and smiled.

So I patted the python on the head and took a picture. Then I pointed to the political slogan on his shirt and, because this particular party cares more for the poor, gave him the thumbs up sign. Then he said, "Wait, big snake". Then he proceeded to take this HUGE python from a box and, without a word, put it around my neck. Then, of course, Pat had a turn as well, and they kept showing us the different coloured pythons they had lying around. They didn't want anything from us, they simply wanted to see our expressions when they brought out the snakes- they had a great time showing them off! I should mention that, in Java, they enjoy a nice python curry every now and then. However, after my experience with such a beautiful reptile I would never consider trying the delicacy. I've always liked snakes.

When we were looking for the art school in the first place, a kind soul at the Djodja museum told us the general direction in which to go. He said, "Don't worry, if you get lost, just ask anyone to help you and they will. We like to help foreigners here".

Well, we made it as far as his directions led and, taking his advice, asked the first guy we saw on the street to help us.

"Of course! Please come with me. I am just going home and my house is right next to the art centre".

On the way to the art centre, our new friend informed us (rather excitedly) that he was, in fact, on his way back from the hospital as his wife had just given birth to his first child, a son. He was beaming as we congratulated him profusely. He told us about how they chose names for a new baby in Java. All members of the family write down a name they like and put it in a hat, then, as our friend said "It is fair" when they pick the names.

He asked me if I would like to contribute a name for his baby and I was slightly taken aback- what an honour! He had known me for a whole five minutes and he genuinely wanted me to pick a name for his child. I said, "OK, I pick Ian. That is my father's name". I told him how to spell it, and we arrived at the art centre, and he went off on his way to tell his family the great news. So there ya go, Dad. There may be a little boy in Java named after you.

We went to the great Buddhist temple, Borobudur, today. It is the largest remnant of what was once a major religion in Indonesia, during the times of trade with the Chinese empire. It was extremely beautiful. I think Patrick's and my favourite thing about temples is not so much the construction, even though all temples are beautifully and painstakingly well done and we certainly appreciate their aesthetic beauty, but the fact that every temple we see is set in some of the most beautiful scenery one could lay their eyes on. This was no exception, with great smoking volcanoes looming in the background and mist shrouded palm forests in the foreground. The next post will only be pictures from Gunung Bromo and Borobudur. Until then, much love! Off to Jakarta tomorrow!

Typical Indonesian restaurant; you pick what you want and pay as you go. Usually, the food is cooked in the morning and sits around all day. I haven't tried it yet (I hear it is safer in Sumatra).

Pat and the python.

My initial reaction to the snakey. You could feel his very powerful muscles- I wouldn't want to be caught in a squeeze with one of these guys!

The first python that was pointed out to us. Small guy!

Those red flags are all in support of the political party that supposedly cares more for the poor. The leader is a woman, so obvs I'm down with this one winning, too!

Batik print everywhere! I got a cute little dress for less than four bucks.

The main market area on Malioboro Street.

Lots of food stalls with yummy smelling (and, if they're selling durian fruit, not so yummy smelling) food.

The main mode of public transport.

Lots of food, as is with every market!