August 31, 2007

Bangkok (THAILAND)

Seeing a Fortune-Teller, Touring Bangkok, and Dinner with Jo's Parents

Jo and I were up at 6am this morning in order to make it to our morning appointment with the fortune-teller. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before finding a cab driver willing to drive us all the way out to his home (most drivers are hawks preying on tourists who want to see the "big sights"). It was a long ride as Bangkok's traffic is notoriously bad, but when we finally arrived the cab driver was amazed when he realized who we were going to see. Apparently, this fortune-teller writes for the Bangkok Post, has written several books, and advises a slew of Thailand's big personalities. We were excited and nervous at the same time because we had no idea what to expect.

When we were granted admission through the front gate we respectfully removed our shoes and left them near the Mercedes-Benz parked outside (the man must be doing all right). We followed the assistant inside where we were cheerfully greeted in the fortune-teller's office amid a collection of various Chinese paraphernalia. There were pictures of the king adorning the walls along with intricately ornamented wooden carvings scattered throughout the room. Everything looked very cluttered (much like a well-traveled journalist's office would look), while the fortune-teller himself was calmly resting behind a large desk.

The first thing he had us do was write down our full name as well as the date and approximate time of our birth. He looked us over as we were doing this, and as I chose to have my fortune told first he began punching my information into a small electronic device that reminded me of a typewriter (he said it was a machine he created some time ago). The fortune-teller had only stubs for fingers, so he held a pencil in the palm of his hand to do all the key punching. When he finished keying in my information, the machine continued clicking away in the corner as it printed off seemingly incomprehensible figures and numbers. Next, he pulled out a massive astrological tome that he began thumbing through.

When the actual telling began, he started a tape recording and began by telling me my astrological information (mostly simple facts from the Chinese zodiac). Then, the real stuff began. He started talking about how I was a student who is decisive, but the trouble is I can never stick to the same decision for very long and I often think I would be better off quitting school to pursue a different path. He said this was a bad idea and the best path for me was to finish school as my "big break" would come just after my 27th birthday. He said this was also the age I should get married as I will be finished with all my studies by then, and my wealth will be following shortly - and a lot of wealth was to come. I was also advised to follow my father in business, and to listen more closely to the advise he gives me.

The fortune-teller went on to talk about which Chinese zodiacs suit me (I was born in the year of the tiger), but it was when I asked about health that more interesting tidbits emerged. He pointed out that I once had a problem with one of my legs that came about through sports (I have had knee surgery because of soccer) and that my father had a very similar problem when he was my age (he also had knee surgery because of basketball). Most of the other stuff was fairly generic, but when Jo had her fortune told he said she would suffer a minor accident in November or December (i.e. falling down the stairs or something similar). This isn't the kind of thing someone likes to hear, and it annoyed me that the man would say something like this - especially when it very well could happen to anyone.

We were charged more money than I care to admit, but we left feeling we had at least received a genuine fortune-telling. I will never see a fortune-teller again because I am now positive it is all a load of rubbish, but it was a worthwhile experience and it makes for a great story in the future. Nevertheless, I want to emphasize that the things I chose to include on this webpage were the somewhat true pieces of information while all the other stuff was well off the mark. For example, he said I was very lazy and he talked a lot about Chinese values.

In the afternoon, Jo and I toured downtown Bangkok and visited the giant Buddha at Wat Pho temple. Afterward, we headed back to the Khao San road to check out of our guest house and gather our belongings (it was a long morning). We would be spending the night at her parent's place, and on the way we stopped to pick up her visa at the Myanmar embassy.

We were greeted by Jo's mom at her home and spent the afternoon chatting. One of the biggest topics was our next travel destination: Myanmar [Burma]. A spate of protests recently began in Myanmar over rising gasoline prices, and the brutal regime has cracked down on dissidents. Jo's father has business contacts there who we can contact should something go wrong, but as long as we stay away from everything that is going on we should be fine. The ruling junta in Myanmar is not the kind of government I want to mess around with as they are well-known perpetrators of violence and abuse.

Later in the evening, I went out to dinner with Jo's parents at a posh restaurant in downtown Bangkok. Since I only had backpacking clothes with me, I made Jo dress equally grunge. It was our first taste of quality food (and wine) in quite a long time, and as everyone at the table is an avid Arsenal supporter (Jo has season tickets) we always had plenty to talk about. But the coincidences didn't end with our mutual love of the Gunners: Jo's father studied at the same college in Oxford as me (Worcester), and they actually know the Oxford coordinator at my university, Georgia Tech. We all realized what a small, small world we live in.

August 30, 2007

Bangkok (THAILAND)

Catching Our Breath in Bangkok and Finding a Fortune Teller in Chinatown

Our over-night bus from Ubon Ratchathani arrived in Bangkok at 4am this morning, and we quickly took a taxi to the Khao San road to find a place to sleep. The Khao San road is famous among on the travel circuit in Southeast Asia because it is to backpackers what Las Vegas is to gamblers. It embodies the best and the worst of aspects of the backpacking lifestyle as it caters to people of all shapes and sizes, basically offering anything anyone could possibly want.

We checked into a quiet guest house a few blocks away from the ever-noisy Khao San, and after showering and freshening up Jo went to visit her parents (they live in Bangkok). I had the morning and afternoon free to catch up on activities like getting a haircut, replenishing my supplies, and buying cheap clothes to replace those already lost (usually when they are not returned from the laundry).

In the afternoon I settled down at a cafe and started reading a book Jo gave me called A Fortune-Teller Told Me. The story is about an Italian journalist who visited a fortune teller in Hong Kong, and was subsequently warned of a plane crash in 1991. I do not want to give the story away, but I was intrigued by the idea of visiting a real fortune-teller - not just the kind of tarot card reader you can find on any street in Asia. I have always believed fortune-telling was utter nonsense, but for whatever reason the novelty of it all had me hooked.

When Jo returned in the afternoon I ran the idea by her and she seemed to give her approval - or more likely she was just gracious enough to keep her real thoughts to herself. Since neither of us had any idea how to find a fortune teller in Bangkok, we decided taxied to Chinatown and started searching there. The process of finding a fortune teller in Chinatown seemed simple while riding in the taxi, but once we hopped out onto the busy street of Chinatown reality began setting in. How the hell does one go about finding a fortune teller?

We started by going up and down side streets asking people if they knew a fortune teller. When our English yielded only blank stares I switched to Mandarin hoping for more success - it was Chinatown, after all. Despite most of the people being of Chinese descent, no one seemed to speak Mandarin, and if they did it was an obscure dialect such as Hokkien . Jo was hardly surprised as most Bangkok Chinese are third or fourth generation Chinese and already lost most of their roots. I began worrying because I felt like this was a hopeless cause, but I didn't want to go back empty-handed.

Our big break came as we passed a carpet shop where I spotted a well-ornamented Buddhist shrine tucked away in the back of the shop. We walked in and I began asking the woman behind the counter (in Mandarin) if she could help us. Immediately, her son came over with a big grin on his face. Not only was he surprised I was speaking Mandarin, but he was even more surprised two Westerners were seeking out a fortune teller. In Chinese culture, fortune tellers are as much a part of daily life as gambling, the strength of the family, and the everlasting love of money.

Word quickly spread of what we were looking for as old women were called over, phone calls were made, and stacks of business cards were scoured. Apparently, the shop's owner's aunt uses Bangkok's most famous fortune-teller, and after nearly an hour of waiting they found the phone number for us. What a turn of events: Jo and I went from thinking this entire ordeal was a hopeless endeavor that was stupid to begin with to winding up with the best fortune-teller in Bangkok. We said goodbye to everyone in the shop - several of the old women were still beside themselves that I could speak Mandarin - and found a payphone to schedule an appointment.

When I called a secretary answered the phone, but she spoke no English and our spirits quickly dropped. Fortunately, the fortune-teller came on the line and he spoke great English. Since Jo and I were planning to fly to Myanmar in two days we arranged to meet the following day. Although it was the fortune-teller's day off, he agreed to meet us at 8am at his home. We wrote down the address, said goodbye, and gave each other one of those funny looks that seemed to say "What the hell just happened?!"

For the remainder of the evening we hung out at a bar along the Khao San road and chatted with all the drunk travelers who happened by. We couldn't stay out too long though because we had an important meeting in the morning. I wonder if the fortune-teller already knew whether we would be on time or not? I figured I would ask him in the morning, if I could remember.

August 29, 2007

Bolaven Plateau (LAOS)

Twin Waterfalls and Heading to Bangkok

Our streak of early mornings continued unabated this morning as we rose to catch the 7am sawngthaew to Pakse. There was a light rain the entire morning so we sat crouched (and freezing) inside for the four hour journey.

When we finally reached Pakse we hired a local sawngthaew driver to take us the remaining 50km to a set of twin waterfalls we heard were amazing (there are pictures of the falls posted through Laos). As we were planning on crossing back into Thailand later in the day we were worried about making it to the border before it closed, and we simply couldn't risk taking local transport.

Our attempts to bargain for a cheap ride meant we ended up with a cheap sawngthaew, and on the way to the falls it began to fail. After stopping at a local gas station and working on the engine we set off again, and fortunately there were no hiccups.

When we arrived at the entrance to the park we were somewhat put off by the lack of tourists and the rainy, dreary weather. However, our spirits quickly lifted as we neared the falls and heard the thunderous crashing of water. Despite the nasty weather, the twin falls were attention-grabbing and well worth the effort spent getting out here.

We decided to eat lunch at a small Thai restaurant (penang curry and mixed vegetables served over white rice) while overlooking the falls. Afterward, we hung around for a while longer to enjoy our last moments at the falls, and then we bought a few knick-knacks from the stalls stationed outside.

We rode the sawngthaew back to Pakse and hopped in an old-school taxi  for the one hour ride to the Laos-Thailand border. We crossed just before the border closed for the day and then took a man up on his offer to drive us to the nearest transport hub, Ubon Ratchathani. We found it strange the man was driving us so far for only 100 baht/person, but the reasoning became clear after 15 minutes when he pulled off on the side of the road. Shortly afterward, another car pulled up behind us and we switched into a beat up sedan that was heading in the same direction. Everything made more sense now because this car was in horrible condition, and after ten minutes of driving Jo and I smelled gas! In the back of the car was a propane tank with tubing connecting the tank to the underside of the car. We never figured out what the propane was powering, but we stopped at five gas stations for the two hour ride - never filling up more than 15 seconds on any stop! Jo and I were quite worried on the ride, but there wasn't much we could do except continue onward.

We reached Ubon Ratchathani safely and caught an overnight bus to Bangkok with only fried rice and potato chips for the long ride.

August 28, 2007

Si Phan Don (LAOS)

Bicycling to the Mekong Rapids at the Laos-Cambodia Border

Jo and I were up with the sun this morning so we could check out of our guest house and still make it in time for our 8am boat departure. Last night we booked a seat on a small boat heading to the southern islands of Si Phan Don. We planned to have a day of bicycling and touring the Mekong rapids at the Laos-Cambodia border before returning to Don Kong in the afternoon. We were in a bit of a hurry to head north so we were planning to hire private transport when we returned. It felt like we could never catch a break and this was quickly shaping up to be yet another long and tiring day.

The pace started off relaxing enough as we rode two hours along the Mekong - reading our books and taking pictures en route. We were joined on the boat by two separate Austrian couples (they were the ones who originally recruited us to come as it cut down costs).

We got dropped off at 10am with only a goodbye waive and confirmation that the boat would be back to pick us up at 3pm. No one was particularly sure what to do next as we were literally on a small dirt path amid a string of wooden shacks lining the river, but after a short walk we found a place renting out bicycles. We all hopped on and set off down muddied paths (it rained all through the night) with brakes that didn't work. We must have looked a bit odd to the locals we passed as this is one of the few places on earth globalization still hasn't reached. Typically even the remotest of places have a satellite dish here or a TV there, but Si Phan Don has happily eluded such progress.

Below is a series of interesting photos taken while cycling. One of the pictures is particularly classic, and I am debating whether I should use it as my Christmas card for friends/family this year. I like to think it is George Bush in front followed by Tony Blair and John Howard.

Now that I have angered three of the most militarily active (and powerful) countries in the world I would like to say this was all in good fun. No hate emails, please. More seriously, here are a few other photos we took that will give a better indication of what the scenery for the 8km bicycle ride was like...

After an hour of cycling we reached an old Japanese bridge that was the only concrete structure we saw during our entire stay on the islands. In retrospect, I have no idea what this bridge was doing in southern Laos as it was quite impressive and sturdy. Anyway, we crossed the bridge and reached the southernmost island of Don Det. From the bridge it was only a couple more kilometers to the rapids that form the natural border between Laos and Cambodia. The path became even worse en route, and I was nearly successful on one of my childish attempts to force Jo into the mud. Sometimes I juts can't help being such a charming guy.

We had plenty of warning before we reached the rapids as the roar of the river could be heard from a long way off. The pictures below don't do  justice to the magnitude of the rapids, but they are the best I have got.

Before cycling back for lunch, Jo and I continued on to a small swimming area we were told about. Although the water resembled sewage and there was no one around (meaning we weren't really sure how safe it was to go swimming) neither one of us wanted to miss out on the chance to swim in the mighty Mekong River.

The water was a bit cold and our feet sunk six inches in the muck, but it was still fun splashing about. I was grateful I left my boxers on when I jumped in because two local Laos men came by after 15 minutes. It might have been a bit awkward getting out, otherwise. Speaking of getting out, we decided it was a good idea when something slid across both our legs at the same time. Sadly, I think I jumped higher than Jo.

We met the Austrian couples near the Japanese bridge for a relaxing lunch along the river. Both Jo and I have the exact same preference in food (with the sole exception being I love an excessive number of chilies), so we continued our habit of sharing dishes. This always works to our advantage because Asian dishes are meant to be shared. Typically, we order a plate of mixed vegetables, a meat dish, two steamed rice, and at least one large bottle of the local beer.

On the way back to the pick-up point my bicycle got a flat tire and I gave my legs a work-out I will probably come to regret. Making matters worse, I gave two small Laos boys a lift for a couple kilometers - one on my handle bars and another riding on the back. We drew a lot of attention from all the locals we passed and I could tell the boys were enjoying it just as much as I was.

The boat ride back to Don Kong took twice as long as we were fighting the current this time. By the time we arrived it was time for dinner, and we figured we might as well spend the night here and continue onward in the morning. We enjoyed a late dinner drinking and eating along the water with the Austrian couples before passing out from exhaustion.

August 27, 2007

Si Phan Don (LAOS)

Traveling to the 4000 Islands in Southern Laos

Having seen most of what Champasek has to offer yesterday, Jo and I were once more packed and ready to hit the road early this morning. Our target for the evening was to reach Si Phan Don (meaning 4000 Islands) by nightfall, which is over 100 miles south of Champasek. We were once more at a loss as to how we would get there, but we were told that if we waited by the only road heading south we could eventually hail down a lift. We figured this meant it would be another long day on the road so we relaxed over breakfast as the mighty Mekong rolled along ten feet below us.

When we finally got going we backtracked along our route from yesterday - motorbike to the ferry, cross the Mekong River, and walk to the side of the road where we waited. Fortunately, a sawngthaew came by without too much fuss, but it was already full of people so our only option was to ride on the roof. We threw our backpacks atop and scurried up the side as the truck started pulling off. We were the only ones up there and we were once more sitting atop piles of baggage so we were both free to sprawl out under the mid-morning sun.

Well, I thought I was free to do sprawl out, but that was before I felt something moving under my legs. I looked down and saw a thick plastic bag with holes cut into it so fresh air could get in. My first thought was "Holy s***! Snakes!" and I jumped away. After prodding the bag I realized it was only chickens in there (three in total), and I did my best to keep them away from bothering us.

Imagine: there we were, riding on the roof of a sawngthaew in southern Laos with chickens scuttling around in a plastic bag between us. How I love life on the road!

By 3pm we reached the ferry crossing for Don Kong, the primary island in the Si Phan Don region. We had a one hour wait as there was only one ferry and no one is ever in a rush in Laos. In the mean time we sat at a small noodle stall on the side of the road and had a bite to eat. We bought a couple bottles of Beer Laos that we shared with a group of locals, and once more we received the warmest welcoming possible - it was obvious that these locals never get to interact in such a way with a white foreigner. To make things even more interesting, I challenged a local man to a chili eating contest, and I stupidly ate two 2" chilies (one green and one red). I love spicy things and have never met some one who can handle more than me, but even this made me break into a sweat and I was overcome with hiccups. Actually, it probably wasn't hiccups but rather my body's feeble attempt to regurgitate what I just forced down it. Oh well, it's all about earning respect.

We crossed the Mekong river on another ferry and checked into a guesthouse for the night. The island was even more deserted than Champasek, and there was quite literally no identifiable center of town. It was perfect for us because - for the second night in a row - we were the only ones checked in our guest house and we had a chance to relax.

Later in the evening we ate dinner at the only place with foreigners (seven in total), and after striking a conversation with a married Austrian couple we decided to join them the following day on a boat/bicycle tour of the Mekong rapids. So much for sleeping in tomorrow!

August 26, 2007

Champasek (LAOS)

Crossing into Laos and Climbing a Khmer Temple at Champasek

As much as Jo and I wanted to rest this morning, we knew there was too much to be done for us to idly waste time. We were planning to cross the border into Laos (pronounced with the 's'), and then travel south to the town of Champasek where we could sleep on the river and see more Khmer ruins. With this itinerary in mind and absolutely no idea how we were going to make it all happen we set off early for the Ubon Ratchathani bus station. We found a 9:30am departure for the Laos border town of Pakse and booked ourselves a seat. In the mean time, we both sat down to a plate of fried rice and chicken with hot Thai coffee. Whenever I catch myself eating something like fried rice for breakfast I start worrying that perhaps I am becoming too Asian.

At the border crossing, Jo picked up a Laos visa for less than half what I paid in Hanoi (another thing I hated about Vietnam were the inflated prices). It was a startling contrast to go from Thailand to Laos because travel is absurdly easy in Thailand while it was obvious southern Laos has hardly changed in the last 50 years. The worst part was the sweltering heat which had both of us dripping sweat in no time at all.

When we got off the bus in Pakse we quickly changed money and hopped on a sawngthaew (cheap public transport) for part of the journey to Champasek. We were dropped off at a ferry boat crossing where we climbed aboard amid a swarm of locals - both of us were praying the ferry wouldn't sink. While I went around taking photos Jo took a liking to a small girl selling packs of bubble gum. We bought a pack from her and gave her a stick; the look on her face was priceless. Jo decided to give her a headband as well, and the girl could not possibly have been beaming any more brightly.

After we crossed to the other side of the Mekong river we hopped on a motorbike with a small trailer attached. We rode this to the center of Champasek, which was no more than a collection of seven wooden buildings - three of which were guest houses. We were pleasantly surprised by the absence of any real activity in the town and after booking a cheap room on the river we continued on toward the Khmer ruins.

At the entrance to the ruins was an impressive museum containing priceless artifacts that were expertly compiled and documented by UNESCO. At this point, Jo and I are well-familiarized with the different styles of Khmer architecture and sculpture, but we both noticed significant differences between what we saw in  Laos and Cambodia (such as a focus on a mythical animal called the naga and a stronger Buddhist influence).

The temples were located on an imposing hill looking out over the Laos lowlands and the might Mekong River. It was stiff climbing upward as we ascended tier after tier (I believe there were nine such tiers in total). As always, our hard work was rewarded as the views were amazing and the preservation work ensured that some phenomenal carvings remained intact.

By the time we arrived back out our guest house for the night we were both utterly exhausted. We ate a quick dinner and drank a couple bottles of Beer Laos before calling it a night. Looking back, I don't know how we managed to do it, but only two days ago we were leaving Siem Reap to begin this crazy adventure.

August 25, 2007

Prasat Preah Viheat (CAMBODIA)

Atop Prasat Preah Vihear and Dirt-Biking to Thailand

Any hope we had of sleeping in this morning was dashed by an overly rambunctious rooster. Separated by only a mosquito net and see-through wooden paneling, the persistent cock-a-doodle-doos reminded me of what Joe Pesci endured in the movie My Cousin Vinny. Only when it happens to you it is far less funny.

Also, the water bucket shower didn't feel any better this morning than it did last night, but we were grateful to find hot coffee for breakfast. Even though the sugar jar was crawling with ants, Jo wasn't deterred from shoveling a copious amount into her coffee - sugar, not ants, that is. Well, probably a few ants as well now that I think about it.

After breakfast we had to sort our transport away from Prasat Preah Vihear and cross the border into Thailand. This was a tricky issue as no transport heads in the necessary direction, and the roads were equally as uncompromising as yesterday. We ended up negotiating with the Khmer man who brought us up the mountain, Jai, as he and a friend (the local police officer) agreed to drive us on the back of their motorbikes. The $20/person charge was more than we wanted to pay, but we didn't have any choice and so we agreed to leave at around noon.

In the mean time, we worked our way back up the temples for more exploring. I have not mentioned this yet, but this part of Cambodia is the most heavily land-mined area in the world. There is literally no margin for error here and we were repeatedly warned - by signs and by thoughtful locals - not to leave the trodden path for any reason. While looking out for landmines makes it hard to be at ease, we both found ourselves lost in the graveyard of stones as we explored the neglected temples. Once more we had the entire complex to ourselves as hardly anyone makes it out this far, and any who do come from the Thailand side.

Speaking of the Thailand, Prasat Preah Vihear is located on disputed territory that is claimed by both Cambodia and Thailand. While the Cambodians have traditionally maintained the upper-hand in controlling the area, there is obvious animosity between the two sides. Historically, Cambodians feel that both the Vietnamese and Thais have encroached on their lands and are always trying to take them over. The reason I mention all this is because we passed a sign that read "I have pride to be born as Khmer", there are large guns pointing at Thailand (left-over from God knows when), and several times we were asked "Cambodia or Thailand?" - to which our answer was always "CAMBODIA!"

We were fortunate in that the weather was fine today and the views from the mountaintop were amazing. The pictures shown to the left and right sums up how rewarding the views were. Jo was relaxed looking off into the distance while I couldn't resist throwing my legs over the side for one of those childish "look at what I did" photos.

We climbed back the mountain and gathered our belongings in time to hop on the back of the motorbikes for the westerly ride across Cambodia. I had forgotten just how treacherous the mountain part of the journey was, and I was hanging on for dear life as Jai held the brakes the whole way down. Jai easily weighs over 300lbs so I was really struggling to wrap my arms around him. Fortunately, he speaks great English and most of the ride he was telling me jokes (most are too crude to repeat).

There wasn't much drama for the first couple of hours, but as we were passing some particularly tricky muddy areas the excitement grew. Jo had just finished clearing a rough spot and I gave a holler as she was sprayed with mud. Then, as she turned around to flick me the bird I felt Jai give a tremble and our motorbike wavered. He told me to jump off, which I instinctively did anyway.

The second I took my weight off the motorbike Jai lost his balance and all 300+lbs of him toppled into a puddle of muddy water. I could barely control my laughter as I pulled the motorbike off him and helped him find his lost sandal in the muck - which basically entailed him digging around with one foot in the mud. Fortunately, Jai had an easy-going personality and he was laughing just as hard as I was about the whole thing. From there on out, Jo and I both got off the motorbikes every time we passed a trouble spot. In retrospect, I don't think it mattered much whether we fell in because we were already caked in dirt from the roads and the dust of the motorbikes.

At one point we stopped at a small watering hole (I don't know what else I could call it) so Jai could properly clean himself. There was a group of five girls swimming in the water, and Jai assured me this was the closest they had ever come to a white foreigner. They were giggling uncontrollably, so I began blowing kisses to them and smiling. This only made them laugh harder, and it lightened the mood with Jai.

As the afternoon wore on and we approached our fourth consecutive hour on the motorbikes Jo and I began tiring of the journey. This was really rough going with the sun beating down on us, the dust always in our faces, and the constant bouncing of the motorbikes on roads destroyed by the rainy season. Despite all this, the thing I remember most is how Jo never complained and simply kept on going. I have known she was special for quite some time now, but it was at times like these - when both of us should be at our worst - that she really made me appreciate how luck I was.

We reached the Thai border at 5:15pm and both of us were covered in dirt and dead tired after the hellish journeys we endured over the past two days. As we posed for a group picture, Jai told us no other foreigner has attempted this route in the past month and a half (which dates back to before the monsoon rains started). We were too tired to pride ourselves on such things as our day was still far from over - we still had to cross the border into Thailand and find a place (and a city) to sleep for the night.

The border crossing was entirely desolate, and we were extremely lucky we didn't get stranded for the night. A friendly Thai woman approached us (she was there helping her husband renew a visa) and offered to give us a lift to the nearest Thai city, Ubon Ratchathani, which was still two hours away.

En route, we stopped at a small cafe on the side of the road for a Thai dinner. Both Jo and I were too tired to think as we wandered like zombies to a table beside a beautiful lake. The Thai woman did all the ordering and allowed us to join her family for dinner. We did our best to eat the first real meal of the day, but both of us felt bad we weren't in better spirits so we could enjoy the great Thai food. While we ate, we watched an odd display of water sports on the lake. The woman's two boys swam out to box each other on the lake while three different fan-gliders buzzed about. It was really a surreal way to end the day, especially considering we started atop a mountain in Cambodia.

Jo and I ended up getting dropped off on the side of the road where the woman assured us we could catch a 9pm bus to Ubon Ratchathani. She refused to take any money from us and we were only able to pay the driver for the ride. After all we had been through this was the sort of kind act that will bring anyone's spirits up, and it certainly did so for us. When the local Thai bus picked us up we threw our bags in storage and spent two hours sitting in the aisle. When we finally reached the bus stop in Ubon Ratchathani it was raining and pitch dark. We taxied to the nearest hotel, and when we were taken to an ultra posh place we had to walk another block to find a cheapie to crash in for the night.

Finally, at nearly midnight, we had a place to shower, lie down, and most importantly sleep.

August 24, 2007

Prasat Preah Vihear (CAMBODIA)

A Pilgrimage North through the Jungles of Cambodia

I rose at 5:30 this morning and after quickly tossing the last of my stuff in my sack I clenched my teeth while I endured yet another frigid shower. I have the horrible habit of never using towels when I travel (preferring to air dry), but this morning I had no choice but to hop back in bed and roll around so I could dry off and get warm.

Fortunately, the breakfast was hot and both Jo and I did our best to fill ourselves for the long day ahead of us. Although we still weren't quite clear how we were going to do it, we intended to reach the temple complex of Prasat Preah Vihear, which straddles the Cambodian-Thailand border. The first step in this modern-day pilgrimage - Lonely Planet described the ordeal as being "almost the equal [pilgrimage] of any undertaken at the height of the Angkorian Empire" - was hopping in a small tri-shaw (motorcycle with a small carriage attached to the rear) at 7am for the 20 minute ride to the bus station. The second we arrived we handed our bags over to the bus driver and were ushered aboard as the bus pulled out from the station. Although I was unsure of what lay ahead, I couldn't help feeling excited at the audacity of what were attempting. Somewhat more realistic was Jo, who was clearly tentative about what she was getting herself into. Nevertheless, she rewarded me with a smile as we left the city of Siem Reap behind.

Our second form of transport for the day - an archaic bus jammed with local Khmers - had drama of its own as I struggled to explain to the driver we wanted to be dropped off in a small town called Dam Dek. The town is hardly a blip on even detailed maps, so neither the driver nor the bus full of locals could understand why on earth we wanted to be dropped off here. I did my best to explain we were heading to Prasat Preah Vihear, but either the implausibility of such an undertaking or the language barrier got in the way of a proper understanding.

It was when I sat back down next to Jo and went back over what were attempting that I realized how unorthodox our plan was. I suppose it was always easier to justify it in my mind than to a perceptive mind with a large stake in the matter at hand. Either way, we were not long from being reminded once more the massive rewards that go hand-in-hand with the massive risks we were taking.

After an hour on the bus we were dropped off at the main intersection of Dam Dek. I looked around hoping there was some kind of mistake, but there was no question that the town only extended 50m in any direction. I did my best to avoid Jo's eyes as the only life we could see was a a local petrol station (using Jack Daniels bottles, not gasoline pumps) and a small market across the street. Truth be told, things were not looking good at this point, but only the brave deserve the fair so I didn't waste any time worrying.

Instead, I immediately walked to a nearby jeep where a young monk was sitting in the front seat (monks are always given priority in Southeast Asia). The monk spoke enough English for me to explain we were headed North toward Prasat Preah Vihear and were in need of a lift. By the time I explained all this there were a dozen locals gathered around trying to figure out what on earth two young westerners were doing in a place like Dam Dek. I can only imagine how otherworldly the two of us must have looked with our massive backpacks and western clothes.

Fortunately, the locals began talking amongst each other, and because they apparently took on the responsibility of our well-being, word of what we wanted quickly spread. Thus, it wasn't long before we were led to a small scattering of plastic chairs on the side of the road. The chairs obviously belonged to the welcoming Khmer man was sitting behind a small collection of wooden crates that served as his make-shift desk. We waited contentedly while he rang a variety of people on his mobile phone, and 15 minutes later he gave us a smile. It was slowly translated to us that in another hour or so a local truck would come by and we were free to hop on for only a few dollars. Other than a finger vaguely pointing in a Northerly direction, it was not clear where exactly this truck was headed, but there weren't any other options so we happily agreed. In the mean time, I accepted an invitation to lay out on an old US Army hammock while Jo sat down to read a book. I was afraid to imagine what might have been going through her mind at the time, but I have a feeling I was precariously close to being on her bad side.

As promised, the truck arrived just after 9am and we were ushered aboard while the locals graciously ignored our protests and carried our belongings. The bags were hoisted atop the pile of goods already overflowing from the bed of the truck and everything was tied down. Now it was our turn to grab a spot, but a quick look into the cab made it all-too-clear we were to join our gear on the back. We shimmied up the side with surprising ease and made ourselves comfortable atop bags of God-knows-what. I doubt either of us will ever forget what it was like as we sped off down the dirt road riding 10 feet in the air. Both our knuckles were white as we held on for our lives, but we soon settled in and let the wind whip across our faces while the sun brought smiles to our faces.

For the first hour we passed huts, locals bicycling, the odd motorbike, and for each person we passed there was a lightning quick jerk of the head at the sight of us. I don't know who was enjoying our presence more, us or the locals. Either way, to everyone involved this was entirely out of the norm, and for both Jo and I this was the way traveling was meant to be done.

We stopped for lunch just before noon at the kind of small town that is oozing charm because of its secluded nature. We took a quick look at the dishes on offer - simply a matter of pointing to the pot or plate of food you wanted - and decided it wisest to stick with vegetables. I was once more impressed that Jo was willing to eat the food as most girls I know (and guys) would surely squirm away from taking the risk of eating the food. Despite the lack of sanitary precautions (flies were everywhere) the food was surprisingly good and far different from the tourist-directed Khmer food we have seen at restaurants.

After we finished eating we said goodbye to the last remnants of civilization and began the journey through unadulterated jungle. Now is a good time to point out that Lonely Planet describes the route to the mountain as being "a unique and challenging experience, an adventure that will make an explorer of any of us." True to their word, the dirt road went from being horrendous to being, well, even more horrendous. We maxed out at 15kmh as the driver did his best to cushion the blow as we bounced from crater to crater. We are in the heart of monsoon season and the rains leave massive holes in the road that are only exacerbated when cars like ours drive through the mush. Making matters worse, we were riding so high on the truck that the moment created was sufficient to send us flying at the slightest jarring. It was like trying to sit atop an out of control drying machine for hours on end.

Things got significantly worse when the rain started. At first, I thought it would just be a matter of getting wet, but the torrential sheets prompted the Khmer man riding atop with us to pull out a tarp as a shield. There was no way to hook the tarp down so we all did our best to hold it down while the wind ripped at it like a sail. Despite such trying times, the worst was still to come as the tarp was covered in small red ants, and after a few minutes I felt the first of the bites. There was very little I could do to prevent the ants from biting me because we could barely hold the tarp down against the onslaught of rain, and the bouncing of the truck was even more severe now that the visibility was limited. This was easily the low-point of the day, and when the rain finally subsided I counted 14 bites on my right arm alone.

As Jo would later point out, the adventure was more than worthwhile, but there was no denying it lasted an hour longer than our limits could tolerate.

Shortly after four in the afternoon we reached a town called Sa Em. Although the town only consisted of nine wooden buildings, we viewed it as our savior because it was the outpost at which mankind was struggling to overcome the hell through which we just ventured. I felt like we had successfully crossed the Cambodian jungle's equivalent of the Arabian Desert: instead of the tiring sway of a camel's hump we had the jarring bouncing of a truck, instead of the incessant flies on camels we had the tiny pincers of red ants, and instead of arid heat we had the monsoon rains.

But we weren't done yet. From Sa Em it was another 50km to Prasat Preah Vihear, and the driver wanted us to get off here. I felt a prickly heat creep down my back as I struggled to figure out what to do next, but we lucked out when the driver agreed to take us to the base of the mountain. We still weren't out of the woods as my travel guide described the route we were about to take as being "seriously difficult and [the route] shouldn't be attempted by anyone who isn't willing to put up with misery along the way." I tried to hide this passage from Jo because I was feeling awful about everything I put her through today, but she saw it and was hardly perturbed. We had endured so much that very little could scare us off at this point.

As we approached the stretch of mountains that separate Thailand from Cambodia we were overcome with awe at the beauty of what we were approaching. After seven consecutive hours of jungle misery and a solitary dirt road for comfort the mountain range was a much needed change of scenery. Further, the "seriously difficult" dirt road we took for this leg of the journey was a cake-walk compared to what we endured earlier in the day - a testament to just how bad things were.

By the time we reached the base of the mountain it was well past 5pm and we were confronted with a new worry: where to sleep for the night. The nearest town offering accommodation was Choam Ksant, which was 75km away and it might as well have been 5000km because we had no way of getting there. Fortunately, things tend to work out when you give them a go and then refuse to give in when difficulties arise - and today was no different.

We were approached by a Khmer man who offered to drive us up the mountain on his huge dirt motorbike for $5USD/person. I remember thinking the price was a small fortune in a place like Cambodia (especially considering it was only a 800m climb), but after he mentioned that his sister owned the only accommodation on the mountain and could give us a cheap room we happily agreed to use his services. It turned out that the $5USD ride was one of the best bargains thus far. There was a gradient of 40% the entire way up the mountain, and the 30 minute ride was devoid of any kind of paved roads. Instead, we traversed loose gravel, running streams, boulders, and yet-to-be-cleareded mud slides. It was the most terrifying experience of the day as we were literally hanging on for dear life on a variety of narrow paths barely suited for fully-outfitted hikers. At one point we cut off the "main" route and ventured off through undergrowth, braking the entire time as the motorbike descended down a 50 degree incline. I was instructed to hop off the moving motorbike as we neared the bottom and a muddy mess forced both Jo and I to walk the remainder of the way.

When we finally reached base camp for the mountain Jo and I breathed a mutual sigh of relief, but both of us were too exhausted to begin reflecting on the endeavor we just endured. We checked into a room for the night, and although the room was hardly large enough for the bed and mosquito net engulfing it, we were happy to have a place to lie down. However, even rest was put on hold as we decided to finish what we started and climb the remainder of the mountain. So, exhausted as we were, we set off in the setting sun for our final adventure of the day: climbing the mountain temple of Prasat Preah Vihear.

Built during the the 9th Century and culminating in the 12th Century, Prasat Preah Vihear is a multi-leveled set of temples that boasts the most dramatic location for all Angkorian temples. From the mountain's peak we could look out on the Cambodian low-land jungle that we spent all day crossing, and indeed there was nothing to be seen except dark green jungle stretching to the horizon. We were able to see part of the road from Sa Em, but beyond that the jungle swallowed any hope of following the path we took.

For every bump we hit along the way and for every misery we endured - and God knows there were quite a few - the temples on the mountain and the sense of look at what we have accomplished made everything worthwhile. Other than small groups of local children and vendors lounging around, we were the only ones exploring the ruins and enjoying the evening views. Most people who visit the sight come as day-trippers from Thailand as there is actually a paved road leading here from the Thailand side. Even so, I would not want to venture here in such a way because it takes away from the sense of otherworldliness we were experiencing.

Before we began climbing I picked up four cans of Angkor beer and a canister of sour cream and onion Pringles so Jo and I could have a relaxing treat at the top of the mountain. We found a nice place to sit amongst the ruins and looked out over the expanse of green carpet hundreds of meters below us. There was no better way to end the day, and if this is a sign of things to come while Jo and I travel together then I am surely the luckiest guy on earth.

Just so people don't think life was grand after climbing back down the mountain, I want to include that Jo and I had to wait for the generator to churn to life before we could use any lighting (which only lasted for one hour), but the best part was the shower: there were two barrels full of freezing water with a bucket in each so we could shower.

August 23, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Arranging Transport to Cambodia's Northern Frontier

At 9am this morning a decision was made that would come to change the course of my life forever. I have been agonizing over how long to stay in Siem Reap because I do not want to part ways with Jo, but I have never been one to let emotions get in the way of the job at hand (I intend to complete the overland journey from Beijing to Singapore, after all). Fortunately, I will get the best of both worlds as Jo decided to accompany me on my travels through northern Cambodia and southern Laos. Her friends were gracious enough to let us go off together, and we agreed to meet up later in the summer in Thailand.

All this left me with the serious problem of coordinating how exactly I to go about this journey as the entire point is to get off the beaten path. So, with my pass to Angkor Wat already exhausted, I spent the better part of the day searching Siem Reap for a way to reach the Cambodian frontier to the north. I started with the tour agencies as they are always the easiest, but they said what I was attempting was impossible unless we chartered a private car for one week. Apparently, the frontier to the North is in worse condition than what existed during the guerilla warfare days when Pol Pot and the remaining Khmer Rouge were fighting the Cambodian government. I next moved on to the various bus companies around town, but all insisted that there were no roads going North, and thus no way for me to travel. I found this to be absurd as surely someone goes North, but it wasn't until late in the afternoon when I was introduced to a "connections" man who made a few calls on my behalf. I waited patiently while the Khmer man wrote down new numbers to call, and eventually he informed me that there existed a small village through which a northerly truck runs. Supposedly, we could get dropped off in the village and then ask around to catch a ride. While none of this sounded all that convincing, I booked Jo and I a ticket to the small town for early the next morning.

I met up with Jo before dinner and brought her up to speed on what happened (making our plans sound far more convincing than they actually were). Afterward, we went on another walk through town - stopping so she could have passport photos taken - and ended up at the local market for some last minute necessities. Although we were tempted by the tasty meats for sale (see photo to the right), we stuck to the simple necessities like toothbrushes and shampoo for our journey. Ashamedly, I have never been a big fan of chicken guts.

We ate a final farewell dinner downtown, and then made it an early night as we were setting off early the following morning. Below is a map outlining where all these places are in Cambodia. Now, let the journey begin!

August 22, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Walking Tour of Siem Reap: Miniature Angkor Wat and Finding the Khmer Pulse

Despite the late night partying downtown, I was up fairly early this morning and shared breakfast with Jo. All of her friends were still sleeping, so we had plenty of time to chat before heading off on a walking tour of Siem Reap. This is hardly the kind of activity most people do here because Angkor Wat is primarily a stop-over on the Southeast Asian backpacker's route from Saigon (Vietnam) to Bangkok (Thailand). Nevertheless, we were both up for a little variety and a break from the norm. The first place on our agenda was a scaled down version of Angkor Wat built by a local artisan in town. We weren't really sure what to expect, but the walk took us well away from the touristy section of town and into what can only be described as the residential district. We were half hoping the miniature version of the temples would look authentic so we could tell people we rode a hot air balloon, but as the pictures show such hopes were impossible - the leaves, grass, and small plants made it obvious that the temples are fake.

After we exhausted ourselves with laughter at the absurdity of what we were looking at (we actually had to pay $1 to get in) we continued our walking tour down the quiet lanes of Siem Reap. It wasn't long before the small roads gave way to small paths, and when we finally hit a dead end we began wondering what on earth we were doing out this far. Our fortune improved shortly thereafter when we exchanged smiles with a family eating lunch together., and we were subsequently invited to join them for their afternoon meal. The family consisted of six people, and they were eating dried fish, white rice, mixed vegetables, several steamy soups, fried bananas and ice cold tea to stay cool. They offered us everything that was laid out on the small hut that served as the dining area, and despite our shy smiles they insisted we eat. The run away favorite dish was bowl of fried bananas, and they were far more filling than one might imagine. I was particularly impressed when Jo didn't shy away from drinking the tea offered to us as it would have been impolite to refuse and yet we weren't sure about the quality of the water. Most girls I know (and guys, for that matter) always refuse to drink the same things as the locals. The tea was perfectly refreshing and the best way to cool off in the afternoon heat of Siem Reap.

We eventually said goodbye to the family and took several pictures together before heading off toward town. We were in high spirits after the kind of experience that no tour book or travel agency can arrange. Our floating spirits must have been contagious because we exchanged smiles with everyone we passed on the way back into town.

As we neared the center of town we came across a small waterway and decided to go down for a closer look. There were a group of shanty buildings lining the water, and a local Khmer man was wading into the water to go fishing midstream. I climbed atop a small tunnel spewing sewage for a few shots while Jo covered her face in apparent disgust at the fetid water. I have a sneaky suspicion that if I had fallen into the water our friendship would have been over right then and there, but my legs did not betray me.

As we continued on we were both somewhat weary of where we stepped as earlier in the morning a snake slithered by the two of us as we relaxed reading in hammocks. We were having a great day though and we saw hardly any tourists (other than the few who rode past on their way to the temples) and most of the locals we passed looked at us with the same curious look we gave them.

The last bits of excitement for the afternoon came when we stopped by a small Buddhist shrine where we took off our shoes and quietly observed the locals bending over in obeisance. As we quietly observed the Buddhist rituals a local man took a liking to us and led us around to the golden Buddha dominating the room. He instructed us to touch the foot of the Buddha, then our head, before finally resting our hand in the Buddha's for good fortune. We donated several thousand riel to the temple and continued ambling along the peaceful sidewalks.

We next came across a group of local vendors selling flowers and fruits, and also a woman with caged pigeons and a collection of turtles in a red plastic bucket. Neither Jo nor I are new to Asia and we both knew better than to pay for the release of a pigeon (supposedly a harbinger of good luck) as they are all homing pigeons that return upon release. As for the turtles, well, common sense says they will not be able to get very far to begin with...

What we did get suckered into was a palm reading. I offered my hand to the Khmer man who grasped it with a benign smile and began making a series of calculations on a tiny pad. He was chatting away in the Khmer language - apparently oblivious to the fact we did not understand a word he was saying. The only thing I got out of the palm reading was a stream of amused smiles from passerby's and and a look of approval from the palm-reader himself. Once more, I parted with a thousand more riel, but it was all in good fun; I already know my future holds nothing but the best of fortune.

Jo and I finally arrived back at the hostel in the late afternoon, and we settled back in the hammocks while drinking draught Angkor beer and reading our books. When Jo's friends returned from their day of touring the temples (my pass had already expired) we sat together sharing stories before heading down to Bar Street for dinner. Jo and I continued our habit of walking everywhere, and en route we sampled a tasty local dish served from a cheap stall on the side of the road. It was a 10inch roll stuffed with a cucumber-like concoction of mixed vegetables, a smothered meat that resembled spam, and enough Italian dressing to scare away the swarming flies.

After eating dinner with Jenny, Jemma, and Mark, Jo and I walked to a local market where we got lost in a maze of stalls. It is strange that the market was only several blocks from Bar Street - the foreigner night spot - and yet most people never made it out this far. Although we were not looking to buy anything, we also came across a terrific art gallery tucked away on a small side street. We spent a long time browsing through a variety of photos of Angkor Wat, Buddhist monks, the Cambodian landscape, and local Khmer people captured in charming ways.

Although this wasn't a day I had planned for (my schedule called for me to leave Siem Reap this morning) I had a great time doing very little. I have more than a sneaky suspicion it had to do with the company I was in for the day.

August 21, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Jungle Temple of Beng Melea

I rose with the sun this morning having had a full night's sleep (always a bonus). Over breakfast I decided to visit Beng Melea temple, which is three hours outside Siem Reap by motorbike. Beng Melea promised to be "the ultimate Indiana Jones experience" (Lonely Planet), and since I did not want to miss out on all the great photos the temple offered I decided to bite the bullet and buy a new digital camera.

I shopped around a few camera shops scattered throughout Siem Reap (most were no more than photo printing shops that also had a few cameras for sale), and in the end I opted for the same model Nikon as my broken S6. This allowed me to use the same battery (as it was fully charged) and I already knew all the features on the camera. It was not an ideal fix as I hate wasting the money, but there is little point in saving the money and missing out on all the great photos.

So, with a new camera I set off on the back of a motorbike for a day of hard riding. Before I got too far outside the city limits (which basically translates to five minutes of riding) we stopped for petrol at one of the many upscale gas stations. Little do most people realize Cambodia is light years ahead of the world in gas distribution techniques. How so, you might wonder? The answer is remarkably simple: re-cycled Jack Daniels bottles (or plastic one-liter bottles for the stingy).

The vast majority of the ride was painfully jarring as the only paved roads in the country run from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap and on to Thailand. Making matters worse, it is currently the height of rainy season in Cambodia and this destroys the dirt roads - it looked like B-52 bombers ran bombing raids everywhere. Nevertheless, it was bright and sunny out and the wind was tearing by me as I kept one arm wrapped around my driver and used the other to waive at every smiling local we passed.

We reached Beng Melea just before noon, and the first thing I came across was a sign warning not to veer off the beaten path because of land mines. This wasn't the first time I have come across such things, but this was one of many danger signs I would come across during the day. I was warned heavily in advance of the dangers associated with this more remote region of Cambodia.

I passed the outer wall of the complex after a short walk from the road, but it was another ten minutes before the ruins of the temple showed through the dense jungle. Everything was crumbling as I approached, and I felt a growing sense of excitement at what was hidden inside.

There was a French movie that was shot here several years ago, and the film crew left a wooden walkway weaving its way through parts of the compound. I followed this to the back of the complex to get a feel for the layout, and after a short chat with a group of Chinese tourists (all Shanghai business men who were on an "adventure vacation") I began working my way back through the complex. I quickly veered away from the plank as even the 10 or so tourists on site were too many in my mind.

Veering off the "beaten path" was far easier than I anticipated, and before I knew it I was lost in the temple with very little idea of where I was going. It was impossible to see far in any direction because of the dense jungle growth, and the temples have been around so long they now blend in with the surroundings. I was scared witless at one point when a group of Cambodian boys popped out of nowhere and started staring at me. From the look on their faces they were as surprised by my presence as I was by theirs. I tossed them each a few Mentos fruit candy as we sat down and smiled at each other. Soon, one of the boys began scurrying up a tree in a funny attempt to impress me. I don't know how he was so nimble, but he was like a cat climbing a barren tree 15ft high and hanging on from the top.

The next three hours were spent climbing through every corridor and library in the complex. I didn't see a single other person the entire time. I could not believe the wonders hidden under the jungle canopy and beyond the rubble of fallen temples. It was definitely the epitomizing Indiana Jones experience as I ducked under archways and scaled walls to reach section after section of forsaken wonders. The pictures below should give an idea of what it was like crawling through this jungle paradise. For anyone who knows me, I am terrified of snakes so it was slow going the entire time and I was really overcoming a lot of life-long fears.

And here are a few more photos to further show what it was like inside these dark and mysterious corridors. Now imagine being alone in such places with no flashlight and no one around to call for help...

For all the other pictures I suggest checking out the photo gallery as there were some truly remarkable things to be seen. As ever, most of the thrill comes from discovering everything on your own with no one around to direct you or assure it is safe. Most of the time I was walking on rocks that wobbled and with most of them weighing several hundred pounds it was a lot more serious than one might imagine. The video below might give an idea of what the temple was like exploring:

As I was leaving the complex I sat down with a Khmer man and began chatting. He was twisting some kind of a root in his hand, and when I asked him what it was he struggled to explain that it was used for bites. Upon further questioning - and much gesturing on both our parts - he explained the root can be boiled in water and then drank to help fight malaria. I have heard of this root before, but I never imagined I would actually come across it. It is good to know such things exist out here because Cambodia is notorious for malaria and I have not had any vaccinations.

I met back up with my motorbike driver and we set off on a different return route to Angkor Wat. We were hoping to fit a couple more temples in for the day, but this meant we had to take back roads that were even worse than what we were on before. We traveled at roughly 10-15mph the entire way, and we bounced from divot to divot for two hours. Fortunately, the weather was still great (the monsoon rains usually hold off until the afternoon), but I nearly fell of the bike at one point when I dozed off. The driver gave me a serious look that seemed to say that was damn close and for the rest of the way I made sure not to do something so foolish again.

The next temple complex had some of the best carvings I have seen thus far, and all the limestone was brilliantly preserved. Below are some of the images adorning the walls of this century old complex. I feel bad because pictures cannot do justice to the intricacies involved, but I hope they do give some kind of an idea - especially considering they were carved in the 11th Century.

I stopped at one final temple for the day as I was utterly exhausted from all the climbing, exploring, and motorbike riding. I am too tired to write about more temples so the pictures below will have to be enough.

The day was still far from over as my new Nikon camera was malfunctioning and I went back for a refund. I did not get hassled too much as the faulty lens cover was not my fault, and I got all my money back on the purchase. I took this as a sign and I went around town searching out the cheapest camera on the market. I ended up with an old-school Samsung camera that was only one hundred bucks. It is a welcome relief to have this issue sorted out, and I have been kicking myself for being so negligent in breaking the first one.

When I arrived back at the hostel for the evening I had a local Khmer dish waiting for me. I had asked Eric yesterday to find all the ingredients necessary to eat real Khmer food, and despite his words of caution of the bad smells I was game for whatever came my way. Fortunately, the food was far better than it smelled (which was terrifyingly rancid), and the dish consisted of fish mashed in a dark brown sauce, a variety of diced vegetables and chilies (primarily cucumber), and all this was eaten with white rice. While I was eating I began chatting with a group of four English people sitting at the table adjacent to me , and one of the girls quickly caught my eye. As the group of four were preparing to head off to Bar Street to meet friends for dinner, I arranged to meet them later in the evening.

So, when I finished eating and took a shower (it had been a long, hard day) I caught a motorbike down to party central and met up with them. They were eating at one of the more posh restaurants in town - something I never do - so I stuck to beer and chatting. I was moderately disappointed that the girl I found so attractive, Jo (short for Joanna), was at the other end of the table, but things got better when we all headed out for drinks afterward.

We spent most of the night and early morning at Angkor Bar, which is one of the more famous bars on the strip as it offers everything from lady-boys to pool to loud music to cheap drinks. It was a fun night made even better by our group of eight people and the great time I had talking with Jo. Needless to say, we hit it right off and arranged to meet again early the next day.

August 20, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

A Slow Day Highlighted by Angkor Wat

After a late night partying, I slept in this morning. I hope I don't get addicted to this kind of thing because it felt great to be worry-free. This is  the first time I have felt like my batteries are fully re-charged in a long time - I am talking months - so I was not disappointed about only focusing on Angkor Wat for the day.

I caught a moto to the temple complex at 3pm, and even after an hour of walking I still hadn't made it to the main temples in the Angkor Wat compound. I don't think pictures do justice to how massive everything is out here, but when you are on foot and enduring the mid-afternoon heat such things become readily apparent.

Besides the normal routine of walking around admiring the carvings and architecture, I had a small bit of cultural interchange at a shrine I came across in a tucked away corridor. Only a few Buddhist pilgrims were out this far, and each were prostrating themselves in front of a magnificent statue of Shiva. One of the Buddhists spoke good English, and he explained the reasoning behind the various offerings being made. He went on to point out that the statue of Shiva had four arms on each side and each wielded a weapon for protection or the administration of justice. Although I have never been a very religious person, I am always taken aback by the devotion and benevolence of Asian religions.

The following story is embarrassing to tell and it nearly wrecked my week... In Cambodia, it rains nearly every afternoon at around 4pm, and today was no different. I was fortunate to find shelter in a well-preserved library where I sat on a ledge and admired the temples through mists of rain. Unfortunately, those mists of rain soon became torrents of rain, and I was forced from my small hideaway. As I got up to move I forgot my camera was on my lap, and it wasn't until I heard the smack of the camera on the stone floor that I realized my mistake. Although the camera looked like nothing was wrong with it, the shutter is now broken and it is useless until I get this fixed. No matter how trivial the problem may be, such a repair is not likely to happen in a place like Cambodia. I am now confronted with the dilemma of figuring out how I am going to capture everything I see for the rest of this trip.

With my broken camera tucked away in my backpack, I finished touring Angkor Wat. Obviously, my mind was elsewhere as losing my camera was a serious blow. It was somewhat of a shame because I did not get to enjoy Angkor Wat as much as I would have liked, but all the other tourists would have made life difficult no matter what.

I spent the evening along the East side of the moat watching the sun fade away. There were 20 or so monkeys near to where I was sitting so I spent half an hour observing the small animals looking after their young and approaching the tourists who stopped by to feed them. It was amusing to note how the locals were so at ease with the monkeys while all the westerners approached tentatively and then jumped in front when the monkeys went after the offerings of food.

The rest of the night was spent figuring out how to sort out the camera situation, but I decided I would sleep on the issue before making up my mind. There really wasn't much else I could do about it at the time.

August 19, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Touring the Temples Around Angkor Wat

Today was intended to be a long day of bicycling around the temples (all are several kilometers apart), and when I rose at 4am the morning was still more early than bright. I have never been a big fan of breakfast - coffee and a piece of slightly burnt toast usually do the trick - but today I made sure to eat my fill so I would not tire. Besides, breakfast was free.

By 4:30am I began cycling from the guesthouse to Angkor Wat in hope of catching the sort of miraculous sunrise that can be seen on postcards and posters sold across Cambodia. I was tentative to share such a magical moment with throngs of tourists who were being shepherded to and from their hotels in private buses, so I hung around the moat of Angkor Wat as the sun brought the world to life.

Although the view was impressive, it was nothing extraordinary. I was hardly bothered - I have had my fair share of seeing the sun break the gentle harmony of the horizon yesterday night. Nevertheless, there was a highway of tourists crossing the moat to take their photos from inside the compound, so I imagine the view from there might have been more rewarding.

It was interesting to watch how before the sun came up the stream of people pushed their way across the bridge and before the sunrise was even over the same swarm of people came rushing back out and climbed aboard the waiting vehicles. The ratio of people who stayed behind must have been 1 out of every 100. Granted, it wasn't yet 6am, but it was still strange to see so many people climbing inside air-con buses and I felt an even stronger desire to stay away from the hordes for the rest of the day.

Following Eric's advice (my hostel owner), I set off on a path that would take me by some of the key sights at the best times of the day. My goal was to see as much as possible today so the next two days would be easy and I could revisit the places I particularly liked. One of the most important aspects of this plan was that I was saving Angkor Wat for the very end. It was a save the best for last kind of strategy.

The first temple on the agenda, Phnom Bakheng, was built atop a hill that actually gave a better vantage of the skyline than along the moat of Angkor Wat. There were several men who offered to take me up the hill riding on the back of an elephant, but I felt bad for the elephants for having to endure the steep incline. Besides, I am not that lazy that I cannot walk on my own.

There were several interesting sights around the temple which I have shown below. I will not bore you with details on the carvings or the style of temple because if you truly find it interesting I think it best you see them for yourself. You will be amazed.

I continued bicycling out toward Bayon, but veered off as soon as I passed through the South gate. I dragged my bicycle atop an embankment and onto the wall that circles the compound (measuring roughly 2 km on each side). I spent most of the ride bouncing along a virtually nonexistent dirt path just as Eric suggested. I suppose the real trouble lay in the fact that my bicycle was one of the first to be produced in the world. Ever.

In all seriousness, the ride was not so bad, and the West gate was better than anything I could have hoped for. There were no people around as it was difficult to get out this far, and I spent half an hour just relaxing atop the gate and admiring the surrounding scenery. The picture above and to the right shows what I saw as I approached the gate on my bike, and even after thousands of years the gate still looks inspiring.

You may have noticed all the heads associated with Bayon, and this is one of the defining features of this set of temples. Apparently, the king who had them constructed them was a bit of a narcissist, and the faces were all supposed to resemble him. Whether this is true or not doesn't really concern me; I was more impressed with how I could look in any direction and have half a dozen faces peering down at me.

After more cycling and touring various other temples hunger began setting in. Although it was only 10:30am, I had been up for nearly seven hours and it had been a long time since I last ate. I stopped at a small noodle shop and eventually haggled the price down to a third of what I was originally being charged. As always, I drenched my dish of fried rice and vegetables in sweet and sour sauce, emptying roughly 1/3 the bottle in the process.

The next temple was a bit more difficult to reach as it was suggested by my hostel owner, Eric, as the ideal temple tucked away in the mysteries of the Cambodian jungle. And he was right about it being tucked away: I cycled along a dirt path pockmarked with grimy puddles of standing water for nearly half an hour trying to find the unmarked temple. Eventually, I came across a fork in the road with a sign that read Ta Nei and several minutes later I had arrived.

The picture to the left shows the first sight I had of the temple, and it was quite obvious that this was one of the rare temples the jungle has openly reclaimed as its own. As I said before, it is too difficult to write about what it is like to explore the temples, so the photo gallery will have to do.

The last big temple I visited for the day was Ta Prohm, which was made famous in the movie Tomb Raider. I have never seen the movie myself, but supposedly Lara Croft (Angelina Jolie) picks a flower from a tree at the start of the movie, and then she subsequently falls through the temple into a lost corridor.

The reality of Ta Prohm is that it now sees more tourists than it does adventurers, and I was hard-pressed to take the photo to the right - groups of tourists (usually Asian) swamped the sight all trying to take a photo with themselves in it. Such behavior is irritating because they have no interest in the sight itself, they simply want to have a photo to show friends they have been there.

I needed a rest and opted for a late lunch at the noodle shops opposite Ta Prohm. I ordered more fried rice with vegetables while being entertained by a group of young children trying to sell postcards and bracelets. The children were quite entertaining because they weren't monotonously saying "buy postcard, buy postcard, buy postcard" as most so often do. Instead, they would ask things like "What country are you from?" and after I told them they would proceed to ring off a dozen facts about the country (population, president, capital, etc). I started making up countries to see how vast their knowledge base was, and I was surprised they could nail even obscure places like Madagascar and Bolivia. I felt bad about not being able to give them anything more than the Mentos I carry around with me so I challenged them to a game of naming capitals. We went back and forth naming a country and if the other person could not correctly supply the capital then they lost. Obviously, if I lost I promised to buy postcards and if they lost they had to settle for just the Mentos. I don't want to go into all the gory details, but I was down and out in only a few tries. Embarrassingly, I missed a real lay-up when I forgot Helsinki was the capital of Finland. I have Finnish friends who will be less-than-impressed with my ignorance.

After bicycling back to my hostel I had an easy afternoon resting in a hammock while reading a book. When evening came I headed down to the aptly named Bar Street for dinner and to watch Arsenal play. I met a friendly Irish couple who have been traveling for nearly 6 months, and for any football fans out there you will appreciate the three games on this evening: Manchester United 0 - 1 Manchester City, Arsenal 1 - 0 Blackburn, and Chelsea 1 - 1 Liverpool.

Afterward, I met a group of four Cambridge students and we went out to the bars until the early hours of the morning. By the time I finally hit the pillow I realized that exactly 24 hours ago I was waking up for a day of touring, and I had yet to sleep since then. Such are the joys of traveling.

August 18, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Arriving in Siem Reap and Sunset Atop Bayon

I was up at 6:30am this morning to catch a bus to Siem Reap, which is where Angkor Wat and the world's largest collection of religious temples are located. Funnily enough, the name Siem Reap is actually a Cambodian allusion to defeating Thailand in a battle long ago - the name literally translates as Siam defeated.

Having opted for the $3.50USD local bus rather than the more expensive tourist buses (which boasted air-con), I was one of only two foreigners on the five hour ride. The other happened to be a friendly English girl with whom I immediately hit it off. We decided to share a room in Siem Reap to cut down on costs, and fortunately she was recommended a great guest house called The Prince Mekong. It was troublesome finding the actual location as the owner, Eric, refuses to pay commission to tuk-tuk drivers and he chooses not to be listed in any travel books - preferring the old fashion method of simple word-of-mouth. However, after an hour of searching and asking around we finally happened across his hideaway.

What made The Prince Mekong such a great guest house and why do I bother mentioning it on this blog when I have hardly ever done so before? Well, in the off-chance some one heads to Siem Reap in the future you may now consider yourself in-the-know. Eric was born in Switzerland, but has lived in Southeast Asia for 20 years, and he speaks a variety of languages (including Khmer). His rules for the guesthouse were the following:

- A free pint of Angkor beer on arrival

- Free laundry service

- Free breakfast

- Free bicycle rental

- Helping yourself to anything you want (including beer on tap) so long as you write down what you take on your hotel tab

- Invaluable advice on visiting the temples and transit to the surrounding sights

So these were the perks I was operating with for only $2.50USD/night.

As far as excitement for the day, I grabbed a bicycle and rode 5km to the ticketing entrance as the sun began focusing on more westerly regions of the world. Angkor Wat has a rule (well, actually the company who runs the ticketing for Angkor Wat has the rule) that allows people to enter the temples after 5:00pm for free. Basically, one can buy 1, 3, or 7 day passes for $20, $40, or $60, respectively, so I did not want to waste one of my days with only a half day visit (I bought a 3 day pass).

With Eric's advice, I bicycled past the hordes of tourists who were being dropped off by the busload at the famous sunset spots and instead opted for one of the more secluded temples, Bayon. This ended up being one of my favorite sights because it was my first glance at the brilliance of Khmer architecture and sculpture, and infinitely more important was the fact that I was only sharing the moment with a handful of other curious travelers.

I should add that I covered my eyes as I rode past the imposing main complex of Angkor Wat as I wanted to save the best for last. However, I still had to ride through the imposing Southern gate of the Bayon complex and scores of monkeys playing along the path en route to Bayon. I stopped for a few photos and was able to get surprisingly close before the monkeys scattered away from yet another prying tourist.

I have thought long and hard about how to describe the temples, but I am afraid it is too difficult to capture the detailed intricacies of the carvings or the grand magnificence of the overall layout. Instead, I will direct you to the photo gallery to get a closer look at how amazing everything was. Below are just a select few pictures taken while wandering the ruins of Bayon.

There is one final story to the day, and it is probably my most lasting memory that would come from visiting temples: it is how I scaled the main Bayon wat for a sunset view over the surrounding forest and temple complex. It started when I noticed scaffolding at the uppermost section of the temple, and after 20 minutes of searching high and low in the dark interiors - coming across bats and I am quite certain a hissing snake - I finally located a trap door. With only the light of my camera's flash to go on, I wrenched aside the wooden barricade and  jiggled the door ajar. I took another picture (shown to the left) to see what I had just unearthed.

There was a doorway leading to scaffolding that presumably led to the top of the wat. I counted 23 different plank floors as I climbed my way up, and I put my hand and head through more spider webs than I care to remember in the process of working my way through the narrow confines. There was quite literally no light shining through until I began nearing the top, and even then I was so high up I feared how well constructed the scaffolding was. These temples, after all, are 10 centuries old, and people aren't likely to be doing repairs on the well-preserved ones.

As I stuck my head out at the top opening I felt like Indian Jones emerging from one of his adventures, and I am not embarrassed to say my heart was pumping fast enough to confirm the audacity of this stunt. But one glance around and I knew the risk was worthwhile as the views were amazing and I could easily see the sun doing battle with the tree line in the distance.

Sitting alone atop Bayon, which is one of the three most famous places to visit, was the perfect way to conclude my first day at the temples. Below are a series of photos I took from the top. You aren't likely to find these shots anywhere else in the world.

And finally, as if things could not get any better, here is a sunset over the surrounding moat that will make a poet out of any of us:

August 17, 2007

Phnom Penh (CAMBODIA)

Seeing the Impressive and Dismal Sides of Phnom Penh

I made a late start this morning as travel weariness has been kicking in again. My breakfast became my lunch, and I ate at a terrific backpacker restaurant called The Lazy Gecko. While I waited for my food to cook, I browsed through the many books lining the walls (many places do 2-for-1 book swaps) and thinking about what a good name Lazy Gecko is: a gecko is famous for adapting to its surroundings, and the best way to blend in is to go along with the flow of the locals rather than rushing about like a tourist. I don't know if this is what the owner intended, but even if it wasn't, the Khmer curry was quite good.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to talk about Cambodian food, which is noticeably different from other Southeast Asian cuisine. Unlike Vietnam where most dishes are served with noodles (made of rice), Khmer cooking come with white rice, and I have found there are two main styles: curry and loc-lac. The curries are not green like in Thailand, but are a dark brown and are usually a black pepper kind of spicy (as opposed to a chili kind of spice). Loc lac is a style of cooking that uses oyster sauce and lime to bring the food to life. Both types of cooking are good, but I have a difficult time eating curry every meal.

Today I had the entire afternoon free to explore Phnom Penh, so I decided to be brave and walk the city from one end to another. In truth, I never felt particularly threatened because there were always people around me and I was never in a confined area. Night-time is another matter altogether as the streets literally clear out and the city becomes a bit more of a ghost-town.

After 20 minutes of walking I came across a massive line of women and children snaking around a brick building. I was curious what was going on, and after standing around watching I spotted another Westerner whom I approached. The man was Belgian, and he explained that this is the only hospital in Phnom Penh that offers free health care for children, so people from all over Cambodia come here for treatment. Unfortunately, swarms of people, limited resources, and only so many hours in the day means most people return day-after-day to seek treatment.

I spent 15 minutes talking about the sad state of affairs (actually I mostly just listened while the Belgian man talked), when he went on to explain that he had a 16-month old son waiting in line. I hid my surprise as he explained that he spent a couple months motor-biking around Cambodia, and in the process he got a local woman pregnant. He "knew it [sleeping with her] was a risk he was taking, and this is the consequence of his actions." I thought it was fairly commendable that he came out here from Belgium to help the sick child, but at the same time I was quite frustrated at yet another foreigner who sleeps around with locals with relative impunity. More fatherless children is hardly what Cambodia needs to get back on its feet.

Across the street from the hospital was a park seemingly dedicated to a lasting peace after all the killing that has plagued Cambodia. Although there were no signs, the artwork in the middle of the park spoke volumes: it was a collection of used firearms pieced together to form a dove with a rose in its beak. Rifle cylinders lined the bird's chest while the massive chambers of machine guns formed the wings.

From the park it was a short walk across the street to Wat Phnom, which is located on the only hill in Phnom Penh. There was a mini-gallery of sorts at the base of the hill with a collection of paintings and various other Angkor era items. I spent twenty minutes looking through everything as it was the first time I have been free to look without being pestered by questions like "You want to buy mister? I give you cheap price. You tell me how much!" Such conversations get old quickly, so the peace and quiet was more than welcome.

Walking up the hill there were monkeys running about along with children trying to sell water and postcards. I passed out Mentos fruit candy as I passed by as I always feel bad blowing children off by not buying anything. At the top of the hill were a large white pagoda and an impressive Buddhist temple. After taking my shoes off I stepped inside the temple and rested on a mat while looking on at the bronze Buddha. There were hundreds of candles lit in the foreground and the smoke added to the sense of serenity within the temple. I did the traditional clock-wise circuit around the room and left 100 riel at several of the shrines - it never hurts to be on the safe side.

Once I left the hill it was a 3km walk to reach the selection of "sights" in Phnom Penh, and my walk took me through some definitive 3rd world areas of the city. There was filth and grime everywhere, and when people urinate from the street onto the sidewalk it is never a good sign. The only positive aspect is that I noticed policeman around in numbers and there were cleaning crews doing their best to organize the rubbish (cleaning is nearly impossible).

I decided to get out of the nasty part of town and stick the to riverfront where there were a scattering of left over colonial buildings that have since become hotels or chic cafes. The river itself was depressing to look at as there is no way anything lives in it and when I saw a man float by I did a double check to make sure it wasn't actually a dead corpse.

I found the monk (shown to the left) to be particularly amusing - his robe makes him look like a convict from a distance, and the shaved head certainly doesn't help matters. The bright orange is a new sight for me as most Buddhist monks wear a dark brown or maroon color, which is far less gaudy. Even the bright yellow umbrella seems a bit much, but I suppose Cambodian monks have a style of their own. To be fair, I believe Southeast Asia has a different style of Buddhism from what I have seen in places like India, Tibet, and Indonesia, so it is something I need to look more into.

I arrived at the gates of the National Palace just as the sky began to open up on me, and I had to huddle against a wall to avoid getting soaked. It seems to rain every afternoon in Cambodia, but it is always a quick shower that lasts 20 minutes and then the skies become clear once more. Today was no different, and soon I was exploring a particularly impressive collection of regal buildings. The pictures below will do a better job of relating what it was like than I ever could.

In the late afternoon I stopped by the Myanmar embassy where I picked up my visa and passport. From the embassy, I hopped on the back of a motorbike to an old Khmer Rouge torture compound, called S-21, which has since been become a museum of sorts.

S-21 was originally a Cambodian high school before the Khmer government turned it into the primary location for the systematic torture and murder of the country's intellectuals and subverts. As I walked through the main courtyard the setting looked peaceful and innocent enough, but as I neared the holding cells the real nature of the grounds became apparent. I could still see blood stained cement floors, beds with ankle locks, and the barren desolation so obviously associated with the knowledge that nearly 10,000 men, women, and children died where I was now standing.

I have been to Auschwitz on a cold rainy day and walked through both the interrogation rooms and the gas chambers. I have walked the halls of Tibet's Potala Palace where there are still remnants of the mass bombing and murder that was inflicted on defenseless monks. I have even seen baby fetuses preserved in jars showing the gruesome effects of Agent Orange. Now, in Cambodia, I have seen mass graves and human skulls stacked 30 feet high. To stand in the very location where those skulls were so horrifically denied their right to life - and for as unjustifiable a crime as being at all associated with one who is educated and thus a threat - was as low a moment as any I can recall.

It rained as I rode back to my hostel for the evening, and all I could stomach for dinner was a tepid glass of water.

August 16, 2007

Phnom Penh (CAMBODIA)

Phnom Penh's Killing Fields, Human Skulls, and Distasteful Entrepreneurship

Between getting up at 6am for a Cambodia-bound bus and watching the 3am Arsenal match last night, sleep was fairly hard to come by. I was not too worried because I had a long bus-ride ahead of me to the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh. It was only two hours from Saigon to the Vietnam-Cambodia border, but after an hour at immigration we hit the Cambodia roads, which are anything but. Rather, the main stretch was a dirt track pockmarked with divots that made sleep impossible to come by on the bouncing bus. Fortunately, there were a group of English law students sitting behind me and chatting with them sped the time by.

The view along the road was pure countryside as Cambodia sees few visitors, and several decades ago no one in the world would imagine visiting a place like this (I will highlight the horrific tragedies later during this trip). Here are some photos I took from the bus:

I arrived in Phnom Penh at half past one, and before I could even alight from the bus there was a pack of touts banging the bus window trying to get my attention. All wanted me to take their tuk-tuk or moto so they could receive commission from a hostel they work with, but I was not about to fall for such nonsense. Nevertheless, pushing through them was a real hassle as they followed me for 100m as I searched out an ATM. There was an Irish guy I met en route who was also looking for accommodation., and after we withdrew money from an ATM - where I received actual US dollars - we each hopped on the back of a motorbike and made our way to a backpacker's district called Boeng Kak, which is located in a scummy section of the city overlooking a fly-infested lake. Accommodation was decidedly cheap, and we ended up with our own room for only $2USD/person.

I was on a tight schedule, so immediately after checking in I hired a moto driver to take me to the Myanmar embassy in town where I applied for my visa. The $20USD charge was far better than most other countries, which charge $200USD to see the least-traveled-to country in Southeast Asia. The only downside is it would take 24 hours to process the visa, so I would be stuck in Phnom Penh for an extra day and a half.

Traveling around in Phnom Penh is actually quite dangerous and it has been constantly re-iterated that I should be extremely careful walking the streets alone - especially at night. While the odds are probably fairly good that I would be OK (I usually have my backpack across my chest and keep my wits about me), there are recurring examples of theft and robbery. Plus, with so many guns left over the in country (knives are still sold on all the streets) I was serious about heading the warnings. I have heard from other people who have traveled through here in the past that ten years ago one would not ever dare to even visit the city, but there have since been smalls efforts to make things better.

After leaving the Myanmar embassy I had my moto driver take me to the Cheung-Ek Killing Fields, which is where the murderous Khmer Rouge disposed of over 10,000 bodies in mass graves. This is the closest I have ever come to seeing the after-effects of mass genocide as one out of every five Cambodians were killed during this period (conservative estimations leave the total number somewhere between two and three million people who died over the course of the four year campaign). The Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, targeted everyone with an education (doctors, teachers, those who had traveled or were bilingual, etc) as well as the well-off and their entire family.

The first structure I came across after passing through the ticketing office was the ornamental building shown to the left. Although it looks inconspicuous enough from the outside, climbing up the steps and looking inside is an unforgettable experience. On display were 20 or so shelves stacked with human skulls that were unearthed from the surrounding mass graves. The corresponding sign outside read that the idea was for the the dead to never be forgotten.

I was the only one visiting at the time, so I spent far longer than I expected walking in circles inside as I looked at the various skulls. I did not feel creeped out by the human skulls because all I could think of was how these were real people who were tortured and then executed or buried alive. All of this made the skulls into a different kind of entity altogether; they were more like the souls of people than something to be feared. Below are some pictures that show the abuse the people were subjected to (crushed skulls and puncture wounds).

After heading back to my lakeside hostel for a shower, I went out with my Irish roommate for the night. Over dinner he told me about how he visited a shooting range to fire off rounds of an AK-47 (an activity I had no interest in whatsoever despite my driver's best efforts to persuade me into going). He said that when he arrived he was given a menu that looked like the following:

Weapon's For Your Pleasure

Hand gun: $15

AK-47: $25

Grenade: $25

M16: $35

M6 (Rambo's gun): $75

Bazooka: $200

When I say I am not interested in such activities there are a few reasons. Firstly, after visiting Vietnam and the Killing Fields where I saw all the horrors these weapons caused I would get no pleasure from firing them. The weapons for hire are all former military weapons (many of which date back to the Khmer Rouge), but have since entered the black market as a way for the military to make money on the side. However, the most influential reason I am against it is because live animals are sacrificed on request and for a little extra money. For example, Tom said the owners offered to bring the bazooka into a firing field with cows in the distance or to release chickens when Tom tried firing the AK-47 (both of which he refused). That any sicko would shoot a cow with a bazooka is truly despicable, in my mind.

I cannot imagine using it on a human would be any better.

August 15, 2007

Saigon (VIETNAM)

Back to Normalcy: Touring Saigon

With a shower and a fresh pair of clothes (I have been wearing the same outfit for nearly three days) I felt like a new man this morning. I checked my email at a local internet cafe - invariably a stressful process because of things that pop up needing to be dealt with - before searching out the Laos consulate. With only a street address in hand, I hailed down a motorbike and for 5000r I was weaving through the Saigon traffic while hanging on the back of the motorbike. This is the most common form of transport in Vietnam (for locals, anyway), and it is a much cheaper and quicker alternative to an air-conditioned taxi. Plus, it is better than coffee for waking up in the morning.

The directions I had were wrong, but after a bit of searching we finally found the Laos consulate. The visa process only took 15 minutes, but the price was far higher than anything I was expecting - $50USD. Usually, visas cost around $20USD (barring my Tibetan "authorization" which ran for nearly $200USD but included transportation and accommodation), so at first I decided against getting the visa. However, after thinking about it more I returned later in the day to complete the process.

The Laos consulate was in a fairly centralized location, and from it I was able to walk to the Liberation Palace. This is where the US-backed government operated during the Vietnam War (their own White House) and also where power was officially signed over to the communists in the late 1970s. The inside of the building has not been touched since the 1970s, which gave the impression of an evil lair from a James Bond movie. There was even a lounge room complete with a (tacky) circular couch and a bar made to resemble a large wine barrel.

More interesting was the command room located in the basement. The walls were covered by huge maps of Vietnam, and there were a variety of phones (of the old-school black or red variety) - one of which connected directly to Washington. There were other things that intrigued me - such as the bomb shelter (this building has been bombed on a number of occasions) and the strange set of buttons that triggered God-knows-what. I tried pushing the red one - half expecting to hear a launch from somewhere far-off - but I will have to wait until later in the day to check the news for any kind of an impact.

There is one more issue of importance that I think is worth mentioning: on one of the basement walls there was a poster detailing the number of foreign troops taking part in the "American War of Aggression" (as it is called in Vietnam). Surprisingly, the second highest number of troops was committed not by England (who took no part in the war), Australia (who supplied roughly 10,000 troops), or France (who also stayed out), but by South Korea. In fact, the South Koreans supplied in the range of 50,000-75,000 elite forces (I cannot remember the exact number) with a sizeable percentage of them dying in the bloody conflicts for which the war has become famous. This is an oft-overlooked fact (I never even knew South Korea was involved), and one that shows the underestimated partnership between the United States and South Korea. Even today, the US has a large number of troops stationed in South Korea, and the US is still the largest trading partner and closest ally of South Korea.

After leaving the palace I found a small park where I could relax and escape the sweltering heat (the temperature is near the 40s each day). It was also a good chance to read up on the history of Vietnam as everything I am surrounded by presents a far different viewpoint than what I grew up with. Granted, US history books deliver a balanced viewpoint of the war - in equal part telling of the tactical goals of the US government's efforts to avoid the "domino effect" (the spread of Communism) and also the many anti-war protests over the involvement and atrocities in Vietnam - but everything I have seen in Vietnam has a strong communist slant that details US aggression.

In many ways, I suppose I gained the most insight into Vietnam during the late afternoon when I visited Saigon's moving War Museum. However, before I could enter the outdoor museum I had to first wade through a crowd of 14 year olds who were wrapping up a class field trip. My face was one big smile as all the kids were vying for attention amid giggled cheers of "Hello" and tugs on my shirt.

The mood was quickly to change when I entered the first exhibit, which was a collection of photographs from all the foreign correspondents and photographers who risked their lives (a large number of whom died) to maintain a steady stream of color photographs detailing the gruesome war. The general mood in the extended gallery was one of sober astonishment, and I repeatedly found myself with my hands to my face and a forlorn look as I saw the bloodied and battered soldiers and locals alike. There were personal stories attached to all of the pictures, one of which detailed Sean Flynn (shown to the left) who was from my hometown of Palm Beach, Florida.

Things did not improve very much as I made my way across a small courtyard littered with tanks, armaments, weapons, and airplanes all used from the war. Particularly depressing was the massive bomb shown to the right. After reading about all the atrocities and civilian casualties - remember: more ordinance was dropped during the Vietnam War than during both WWI and WWII combined - it made me rethink the excitement I once felt for the development of the MOAB (Mother of All Bombs) that was used in Afghanistan to puncture bunkers. At the end of the day, bombs are designed to inflict maximum damage on an area, and the bomb shown to the right has a death zone spanning a 1km radius.

The next section of the museum detailed the effects of the dirty war employed by the US as a desperate attempt to fight the tactics of the Vietcong. I sat watching a 30 minute video that was reminiscent of middle school history lessons before reading the informational posters and seeing the pictures of destruction. Basically, the chemical weapons dropped on the jungles of Vietnam wreaked havoc on the local people, and the search and destroy missions of US soldiers resulted in the massacre of several villages (think: May-Son). It is one thing to read about these things in a textbook, but to actually visit a country and see the kinsmen of the people to whom this happened is an entirely other matter.

In the same way that land mines do not obey any cease fires, chemical warfare does not end with the signing of a treaty - the after-effects are passed down from generation to generation.

There was no way I could take pictures of the victims, but the things I saw made me want to vomit. There were bodies so hideously deformed that I never would have believed it was true were it not for photograph after photograph and story after story of the trauma many Vietnamese have dealt with over the past 30 years. Most disconcerting were the large jars containing still-born baby fetuses stored in some kind of preservative. One of the jars had two children attached by the waste in a twisted mess of carnage (it reminded me of what two cars would look like in a head-on collision on the interstate). Another jar contained a baby with a face so horribly deformed that it looked like a bomb exploded inside the skull without destroying any of the body.

These are the kind of things the Vietnamese have dealt with for the past 30 years, and with relations with the United States being normalized only one decade ago it is little surprise the general feeling toward Westerners is not cuddly and smiling. This was a big wake-up call for me as I largely imagined the US involvement in the Vietnam War was buried in a troubled past. However, with reporters and journalists regularly arrested for criticisms of the Vietnamese government, the country is still very much a communist country employing an array of control tactics to maintain solidarity. Any relations that have been improved with the US are a result of economic interests rather than social or political interests (at least in the North).

As the sun began marking the end of another day, I did one final tour of Saigon which led me down Dong Khoi Street, which has many chic restaurants and shops (including ones for D&G, Prada, and Gucci). I found a small park side cafe offering cheap Vietnamese coffee - served stronger and thicker than anywhere else in the world but with a large dollop of whole milk - that I happily drank while sitting in an old lawn chair watching local Vietnamese play a version of hacky-sack. This was a peaceful way to regain my sense of normality, and after two cups of coffee I was back on my way enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of Donh Khoi. The pictures below should give an idea of the upscale nature of the street.

Finally, one last piece of good news for the day: Arsenal won their first Champions League qualifier against an overly aggressive Sparta Prague team with a double salvo from the Spanish wonder kid Cesc Fabregas and the team's shocking leading scorer Alieksander Hleb. Unfortunately, the match kick-off was at 3am, which gave me far less sleep for the night than is healthy.

August 14, 2007

VIETNAM

More of the Same: Bus Travel

I arrived in the coastal city of Nha Trang at 7am this morning, but I only hung around long enough to buy water and snacks for the next leg of the ride: a 14 hour hurl to Saigon in Southern Vietnam. With a beautiful stretch of beach and a shaded park that stretched the length of the coastline, the city of Nha Trang actually looked like it was worth staying around for. Unfortunately, I was still focused on one thing: reaching Saigon and starting anew.

10:30pm: I reached Saigon and with the help of a few locals I checked into a room at the home of a Vietnamese family for a dirt-cheap price. There were no amenities and there were ants crawling across the bed, but  I was glad to finally be done with laborious traveling - 50 hours on various buses in less than four days.

August 13, 2007

Hoi An (VIETNAM)

Not a Good Way to Travel

The phone in my hostel woke me up at 7am this morning.

"Hello" I managed to mutter.

"Where are you? The bus is getting ready to leave" came the response on the other line.

Although my bus was scheduled to leave at 2pm (I arranged it via the front desk yesterday), there were apparently no seats available and I was stuck with the 7am bus - and no notification due to a misunderstanding at the desk. Anyway, who was to blame didn't really matter because I wasn't left with much of a choice - catch this bus or be stuck in Hue for another day. I jumped out of bed and threw all my stuff into my backpack, and with barely enough time to brush my teeth I ran downstairs and hopped aboard another bus - this time for a six hour ride to the city of Hoi An.

When I arrived in Hoi An, which is a small town that is supposed to offer "old town charm", I was disappointed to see more tourists than locals and all the antique shops were geared toward foreigners. This was hardly the Vietnam I came to see (it was quite nice, but it didn't feel authentic enough), and I arranged to be aboard the next bus down the coast (at this point I just wanted to reach Saigon and be done with Vietnam).

I had to wait about four hours before leaving, and luckily enough I ran into Jin who was driving past on a motorbike. He let me shower in his hostel and have a rest, but with the prospect of more bus travel I was hardly optimistic about what the future had in store.

August 12, 2007

Hue (VIETNAM)

Hitting My Brick Wall

I arrived in the city of Hue at 9am this morning, and my body was a wreck after a nearly sleepless night on the bus. We made a series of 30 minute stops over the course of the 13 hour ride, but each one was at a scummy open-aired building offering unsanitary toilets and scores of poor children trying to sell things. When it is 2:00 in the morning, this is not the kind of thing anyone wants to be dealing with - but it was still better than sitting on the miserable bus.

Anyway, back to the city of Hue, which was formerly the capital of Vietnam and is located roughly in the middle of Vietnam. Hue is still the intellectual heart of Vietnam with the most universities, a "higher" way of speaking, some of the country's best food, and the former walled palace complex called the Citadel. Everything was quite impressive to see firsthand, but my heart was just not in it today. I went so far as to pay $6USD (exorbitant price, in my mind) for my own room with air-conditioning (Jin skipped Hue and continued on down the coast) in an attempt to inject some life back into me, but it was hopeless.

Really the only positive to come out of the day was watching Arsenal play their first game of the Premiership season. They went down 1-0 after only 47 seconds, but in the last 10 minutes of the game Arsenal came up with an amazing come-from-behind victory. It was a good start to the season (showing "character" and all that) that was made even better when Manchester United later went on to draw a game they should have won.

Sadly, and despite my best efforts, I did not fall asleep until 4am in the morning. I do not know if it is exhaustion or insomnia that is plaguing me, but after two straight nights with only a few hours of sleep I am desperate desperate for some real rest. But it was not to be...

August 11, 2007

Hanoi (VIETNAM)

More Time in Hanoi and Catching a Bus South

The taxi driver shown to the right wasn't the only one who decided to sleep in this morning - I was dead to the world until around noon. There are only so many over-night bus rides, long days of physical exertion, and general nights of sleep deprivation the body can handle. It is far worse than exam week because at least then the end is always in sight.

Anyway, after showering and pulling myself together I set off to book an open-tour bus ticket that would allow me to hop on any bus between Hanoi and Saigon (now called Ho Chi Minh City). I would catch the first bus later in the evening, and although I would like to stay in Saigon for a day or two more - not so much because I am enamored by the city but because I am in need of a little more consistency - there is too much ground to cover if I am ever to make it to Singapore by the end of this trip.

For my last day in Hanoi I wandered around Ho Tay (West Lake) where there are a variety of pagodas, temples, and government buildings. I stopped to enjoy the cool breeze and shade near the lake, and I read in my tour book that the American senator (and Presidential candidate) John McCain was actually shot down into this lake during the Vietnam War. Speaking of the Vietnam War, all the travel books I have come across (both Lonely Planet and Rough Guide) call it the "American War." I will write about this more at a later time, but being in Vietnam has been a strong culture shock for me.

Jin and I walked down the heart of the government district, and with red flags prominently showing the hammer and sickle it was obvious I was in a communist country. I was somewhat surprised to see such things because I always thought the hammer and sickle was a Soviet Union invention, but obviously not. I suppose I should also mention that I went by Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum, but I was not at all interested in going inside to see his preserved body. Maybe some people are interested in seeing such things - likely just so they can say they did it - but that is not something that seems particularly appealing (especially because I do not particularly care for the man or the things he did in his life).

Before catching my bus for the evening I had one last try of street food, and this time all the meat on offer was related to a pig. Since I don't speak the language and there was obviously no menu you might wonder how I knew it was all pig. Well, the picture to the left says it all: I can make out a tails, hooves, noses, and various other insides that could only come from one animal. Yum.

At 1900 Jin and I boarded a bus with seats that only reclined a few degrees, and without even giving it a second thought I knew it was going to be another long night.

August 10, 2007

Hanoi (VIETNAM)

Crossing into Vietnam and Exploring Hanoi

Jin and I reached the China-Vietnam border at 8am, and in typical Chinese style there was a mad 100m rush the second the gates opened - the Chinese are strangely quirky in ways like this. Less funny is the way many Chinese blatantly cut people in line. A man did it to me at the immigration counter, and when I looked him in the eyes asking what he was doing he just stared back at me with a blank stare. Like ignorant children, many simply do not know any better. Events like these make me curious to see what unfolds in the coming Beijing Olympics!

After passing through the impressive gate shown to the right - and having a good laugh when the border guards thought Jin was North Korean ("the bad one") - we had to sort out transport for the four hour ride to Saigon, the capital of Communist Vietnam. We hooked up with a few Japanese backpackers and traded our Chinese yuan for a taxi driver's Vietnamese dong so we could pay for a mini-bus ride.

The mini-bus made a lunch stop just before noon, and although I was mutually famished and exhausted from a sleepless night aboard buses, we had a tough time buying lunch. The small hole-in-the-wall kitchen we stopped at was intent on cheating us, and persisted on trying to charge us twice what other locals were paying in front of our eyes. I was fairly angry over this treatment, but there wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could do about. I ended up buying a pack of ramen noodles and prayed this wasn't a sign of more bad things to come in Vietnam.

When we reached Hanoi, Jin and I decided to split costs and share a twin room. For nearly the same price as a dormitory ($4USD) we had air-con, our own bathroom, and a place to lock our valuables.

After showering and sorting out our stuff we hit the streets of Saigon for a day of exploration. The first thing that struck me about the city was all the motorbikes - they infest the streets like a swarm of locusts. It took us the better part of the day to grow accustomed to them, and at one point Jin very nearly died when a motorcyclist swerved and slammed his brakes to avoid Jin. The streets are really among the most ridiculous of any I have ever seen.

We tried giving lunch another try at a small street-side vendor, but once more we were being charged more than the locals who were eating alongside us. It really was quite frustrating, but the look of the "chef" said "If you don't like it, don't eat here." Granted, we were paying 16,000dong ($1USD) rather than 12,000dong, but being openly cheated was a new concept to me. The food itself was not half bad and will likely be my staple diet for the next week or so - a mixture of rice-noodles, green vegetables, beef, and herbs.

Later we continued to Hoan Kiem Lake where we sat in the shade of surrounding trees in a futile attempt to escape the sweltering heat. This is the central part of the city, and we were surrounded by local Vietnamese who were also relaxing. Unfortunately, there were vendors and touts aplenty who were intent on selling us things, and one got quite angry when we wouldn't buy any of his books. Unlike in China where people rarely show their temper, it was quite disconcerting when the man began spouting profanities, and it was a definite sign to get moving - desperate people are always trouble.

We met a couple Japanese girls on the bridge shown to the left, and since we were all touring the city for the first time we decided to do so together. The girls, Asuka and Ayaka,  led us to a shop that sold che, an iced fruit drink similar to Hong Kong's bubble tea. The sweet taste and chilling aspect of the drink made it at an absolute godsend for coping with the heat. Both girls study in Tokyo, and Asuka (who luck would have it is also quite pretty) works part-time for Nikon in a part of the city that is very near to where I will be living. It is reassuring to know adapting to life in the world's most closed society will be slightly easier now that I have so many friends who live there.

We continued touring Saigon until the late afternoon when we broke off to shower and change before meeting for dinner. We ate at a small cafe situated along the lake, but afterward Jin and I were on our own as the girls wanted to get an early nights rest (they are leaving early tomorrow morning to volunteer in Northern Vietnam).

After walking the girls back to their hotel, Jin and I set off with one aim for the night: finding bia hoi, which is a daily brewed beer that goes for 3000dong/glass ($0.15USD). After twenty minutes of searching the grimier parts of the city we found what we were looking for, and we grabbed a couple of the child-sized chairs that lined the street as we ordered our share of beer.

While we were drinking I spotted our server smoking out of the pipe shown to the left, and after chatting with him he offered us his tobacco for a smoke. I do not like smoking, but this was an opportunity too good to pass up so, and the meter-long water pipe gave some strong hits. More importantly, when the other locals saw us smoking with it they were all much more welcoming and interested in chatting. Although their English was patchy, it was the first time the locals have shown any willingness to chat. So, it took all day but at last there was a breakthrough and a reason to enjoy Hanoi!

August 09, 2007

Longsheng (CHINA)

A Visit to Longsheng's Famous Rice Terraces

Late last night I booked a bus ticket to the China-Vietnam border, so today is my last day in China - for this trip, at least. I decided to spend my time visiting the famous Longsheng rice terraces, which are a four hour bus ride from the city of Yangshuo. Sadly, I had to break my travel principles and sign up with a tour group for the journey as time is working against me. It isn't just an elitist mentality that steers me away from tour groups (although backpackers are more fun to be around than those pampered few who have the luxury of traveling with a suitcase), but tour buses scream "We are short on time and loaded with money." This is a magnet for trouble.

Sure enough, when our bus neared Longsheng the tour operator announced we would be making an unexpected stop in a traditional village to see a local performance. Predictably, the 70rmb (roughly $10USD) fee for the performance was not included in the transport fee for the day. There was no way I was about to pay such extortionist prices to see a "long-haired performance" (the local women have hair roughly 1.5 meters), so I spent 45 minutes walking a nearby trail. Although the views were nowhere near as good as what would come later in the day, it felt good to be off on my own and away from the "I'll pay whatever you want, so long as I have stories to tell from China" crowd.

By noon we had climbed halfway up the mountain leading to the villages of Longsheng. We all stopped for lunch at a local restaurant pointed out by the tour agent. Invariably, a portion of the inflated lunch prices went into the agency's pocket, but I figured I was already stuck in this mess so I might as well be a tourist for the day. Being in a group of 35 people meant it took 45 minutes to get my food and by then I had lost all interest in eating. The only saving grace for the ordeal was that I met up with a Dutch student who just completed a six month internship with Beijing's Hyatt Hotel. We had a good bit to talk about, and his plans to work in the Asian hotel industry could prove to be yet another useful contact down the road.

After eating, we continued climbing up a small path through quaint villages until we reached the summit at 2pm. The viewing platform was full of other tourists - both foreign and Chinese - but the views were nothing short of remarkable. Here are a view different photographs I took from the day...

As is evident from the pictures, I arrived at the right time of the year and the lush greenery and piece-wise farming techniques are quite famous in China. Although it was a real hassle getting out here today (as is obvious from all my complaints) the views made everything worthwhile.

We were all to be back on the bus by 4pm, but it wasn't until 5pm that the last of the stragglers made it back. From Longsheng, it was a two hour bus ride to the city of Guilin where I would catch a 10pm bus to the Vietnam border. I spent the intermediate time catching up on all-things-Arsenal (the Premiership season starts in a few days) and sending off emails at a local internet cafe.

I boarded the Vietnam-bound bus with a Korean student, Jin Dong Chen, who is a political science student at China's renowned Peking University. Although he was born and grew up in southern Korea, he speaks fluent Chinese and is an avid baseball fan - he was wearing a Boston Red Sox hat when I met him. We were forced to stand for the first hour on the bus, but eventually we grabbed a couple seats and did our best to fend off the Chinese every time the bus made a stop.

At 3am we alighted from the bus and waited in the underbelly of a bus depot for a 4:30am bus that would take us the remainder of the way to the border. Fortunately, Jin had speakers with him, and he plugged them into his Samsung mp3 player (it is touch-screen, and much cooler looking than the iPod), so we rocked out the parking garage for the long wait.

August 08, 2007

Yangshuo (CHINA)

Hiking 13 Miles Along the Li River

Having wasted an entire day yesterday, I wanted to make sure I made up for lost ground today and so I decided to hike roughly 21km along the charming Li River. If I had given it more thought I may have decided against such a trek - my body still hasn't fully recovered - but some of my best adventures have come from winging it. Annie, my hostel owner, introduced me to several locals around Yangshuo who did their best to advise me on the route, but the general gist was to stick as close to the river as possible and to stay well hydrated. This was exactly the kind of advice I was hoping for as I figured I wouldn't die out there, and anything that happened would be worth remembering.

I rode in the front seat of a public bus for about an hour and a half before getting off at the small town of Yangdi, which was where I started my hike. The bus ride itself was a sign of things to come as locals, laden down with baskets of fruit or live animals, were hopping on and off as we bounced from small town to small town.

The town of Yangdi did not have much to offer, but I was able to buy several bottles of water before boarding a small boat that took me across the river. Supposedly, there was a small trail I could follow for six kilometers, but in truth the trail died off after two kilometers. Soon, I was crossing fields and rice paddies trying to maintain a path roughly parallel to the river. Every half an hour or so a farmer would poke their head up and I would try to hold down a conversation, but most of the locals spoke a dialect that I could not follow. Nevertheless, all were very helpful in pointing me in the direction of the next town, and often I would turn around only to see them still staring at me as I walked away.

By 1:00 in the afternoon I began feeling the heat, and I took my shirt off to stay cool. Sweat was running off my body, and although I bought water at every town I came across it was never enough. This didn't worry me too much as the views were remarkable, and I was happy to have them to myself with no timetable to follow. Here are some pictures of the surrounding scenery...

And here are some pictures of the villages I passed en route...

The various trails I followed died on several occasions (usually because of a natural obstruction), and at such times I cut down to the river where I waited for a local to pass by on a bamboo raft. The locals were always happy to help me, but I still tipped them a bit of money as the surrounding area was obviously quite poor. The picture to the right shows one such man who helped me across the river, and at times like this I wondered why I didn't just pay him to take me the rest of the way - there was an umbrella and a chair for me to sit on - as it would be much easier than the itchy shrubbery and swarming heat. The answer is obviously quite simple: the adventure is always more worthwhile than the destination.

At around 3pm I reached a small bamboo hut that was literally in the middle of nowhere, and inside were two men relaxing over a hot pot of tea. They invited me to sit down with them - appearing as if my unexpected arrival was nothing strange - and I was more than happy to join them. By this time I was becoming somewhat lethargic from the heat, but they served me cool green tea and charged me a pittance for it. Although I was somewhat nervous about drinking the water (it was obviously from the river), I didn't want to pass up this kind of experience.

Only 30 minutes after I said my goodbyes the sky opened up and I was caught out in the middle of the forest. I ducked under a cluster of bamboo trees and broke off a large leaf for head cover, but as soon as the rain lightened I began jogging upriver. Soon I passed a small overhang where a Chinese man was resting on a reclined chair smoking a cigarette. I motioned under the overhang with a look of longing and he immediately popped up to offer me a seat. For the next twenty minutes we sat listening to the raindrops and watching over his flock of ducks (he claimed there were roughly 1,000). I was thankful that he spoke Mandarin because I was able to make out 50% of what he was saying - it might have been a bit awkward otherwise.

When the rain finally lightened I set off. It was already quite late in the day and I still had two more cities on my map before I reached XingPing, so I did my best to maintain a solid pace. Fortunately, when the sun finally came out it made for great views as the entire countryside was sparkling after the downpour.

I finally reached XingPing at 6:30pm, and by now I was desperate for food and water. I found the first Chinese restaurant I came across and ordered a large bowl of rice, two liters of bottled water, and a spicy chicken dish. By the time I finished eating I wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest after the exhausting day, but I still had to catch a minibus back to Yangshuo for the evening.

At around 8pm I met up with Francesca for a final dinner together, and we ate at a small market in the center of town. We were searching for a good final meal so we obviously passed up the rat that was on offer (see left). I cannot believe some one would actually eat such a thing, but then again people will eat just about anything in China.

Here is a perfect example: in the Canton region there used to be (and according to second hand reports there still is) a style of eating whereby people sit around a table and feast on live monkey brains. Supposedly, there is a hole in the middle of the table with only the monkey's head showing, and after the skull is cracked open everyone uses a spoon to shovel out a helping of the delicacy. Although I have never seen this first-hand (it is supposedly outlawed), I have many friends who claim to have heard of their elders eating it at certain reputable establishments.

Anyway, for our dinner we shied away from monkey brains and rat, but we did go for fish cooked in beer (啤酒鱼). It was served piping hot and mixed in a large platter with both spices and peppers. Most importantly, both Francesca and I loved it!

August 07, 2007

Yangshuo (CHINA)

Paying the Price for a Great Day

I was planning on doing a river cruise along the relaxing Li River today, but when I woke up at 8am I knew I would have to scrap those plans. There was hardly an ounce of energy in my body and I felt alarmingly exhausted. It was likely a mixed result of yesterday's over-night bus (where I hardly managed an hour of sleep), over 40km of bicycle riding, climbing Yueliang Shan, and then the long night of partying (where I forgot the Golden Rule: beer before liquor makes your sicker). Whatever the case, I spent the entire day sleeping, and it wasn't until 7pm that I finally emerged from my dungeon of darkness.

For dinner, I went out with Francesca for noodles at a local shop, and then we walked the town with Theresa, Ali, and a Japanese girl named Fumiko. I was still severely out of sorts, so we relaxed while drinking cool milk tea (mine had red beans, peanuts, and tapioca balls mixed in it). Then, Francesca, Theresa and I sat at a cafe overlooking a lake and chatted until a little after 1am. Theresa was leaving the following day, so I said a sorrowful goodbye to her, and promised to visit her home in Salzburg, Austria. Oddly enough, this is where Arsenal does their pre-season training, so I will do everything in my power to both see her again and watch the team train.

Of all the aspects of traveling, it is saying goodbye to people that often makes life the most difficult.

August 06, 2007

Yangshuo (CHINA)

Bicycle Happy and Picture Happy in Yangshuo

My bus arrived in Yangshuo this morning at 630am, and immediately after alighting from the bus there were touts surrounding me all claiming to offer the cheapest accommodation. I don't have a tour guide for China, so I figured there was no harm in giving one of them a try. I followed a man, Wang, to his car and he drove me 30m down the street to his hostel. Unfortunately, I knew things were going to be bad when he sat me down and began negotiating tour packages to the surrounding sights. After the over-night bus-ride from Shenzhen, all I wanted was a shower, a place to put down my gear, and a place to stay for the next few days. I curtly said goodbye and moved further into town brushing aside the other touts who approached me. It is unfortunate, but in China many people wear their greed on their sleeves, and they hardly realize how obvious it is to others.

I found a local shop selling steamed buns, and after chatting a bit with the owner I used her mobile phone to call a few numbers I wrote down for local hostels (in case this kind of thing happened). After speaking with several guest houses I decided on the one with the friendliest owner: the Bamboo Inn, operated by Annie. She gave me a dorm room to myself, and because there was no pressure on me I ended up eating breakfast with her and renting a bike for the day.

So, only a couple hours after arriving in the beautiful town of Yangshuo I was on a silver mountain bike peddling into the surrounding countryside. My ultimate goal was to reach the 47m Dragon Bridge (built in the 1400s) situated 11km up the Li River. I only had a hand-written map as a guide, and Annie's directions were to head out of town until I passed a gas station, then to turn left and do my best to stay along the river. With a perfect day and the famous karst peaks surrounding me, who wouldn't love the prospects for such a day?

It can often be quite strange how you meet people. This morning, for instance, I decided to explore a small side path in hope of finding a good view of a nearby village. While I was pausing to watch several local children crossing a field, a Chinese woman happened by, and I surprised her into conversation with me. Shortly thereafter, a European woman approached me hoping for help. She had her two daughters with her, and since they didn't speak an ounce of Mandarin they felt hopelessly lost. I proceeded to speak with the Chinese woman and did all the necessary translating, much to the relief of the European.

This would have been the end of the story, but two kilometers down the path and I caught up to the woman and her daughters (who were headed in the same general direction as me). We began chatting, and they followed me the remainder of the way to the Dragon Bridge, which is shown in the picture to the right.

We sat along the water relaxing after the long bike ride and chatted intermittently without a worry in the world. Mary-Anne and her two daughters, Theresa (19) and Tina (14), had just arrived from Beijing and were touring China for a two week vacation. We decided to cycle together for the rest of the day as we were both heading back in the same direction.

Unfortunately, after only 20 minutes I had us lost in a briar-patch, and it took another 20 minutes before we emerged onto the proper path (albeit with thorns stuck to my clothes). Thankfully no one was angry, and everyone seemed to share the mindset that "everything is an adventure, and that is why we are here."

At around 2pm we were within several kilometers of Yangshuo, and Theresa's mother and younger sister decided to head back to their hotel to rest. Theresa and I said goodbye before heading off for a mountain that looked to be about 7 kilometers away on my map. Since nothing is absolute on a hand-made map, we figured it was best to stop for lunch and a rest at a restaurant we passed along a main road. We were the only people there, and from the look of the owners we were the first foreigners to stop by.

I did my best to order from the Chinese menu, but we couldn't resist the chance to follow the chef into the kitchen where he offered us everything he had in stock. I can still remember seeing the chef bent over inside a large freezer sorting through vegetables when he popped up with a live frog in his hand and shoved it in Theresa's face. Between this and the general state of grime in the kitchen we figured it was best to trust my selections and leave the kitchen before we saw more than we wanted to. On the way back to our private room upstairs, we passed the bar where there were six large vats of Chinese liquor - including one containing a large snake and another full of cockroaches... At least the food turned out OK!

After lunch, it took as another hour until we finished cycling to Yueliang Mountain. I locked up our bikes, massaged my sorely aching butt, and grimaced at the daunting task of a steep climb up the side of the mountain. In fairness, it wasn't a real mountain, but I was tired nonetheless. There was a Chinese woman and her daughter following us up the path with the hope of selling us water and snacks, and even they were struggling with the late-afternoon heat.

Near the summit, I met a group of American students who recently finished a summer spent volunteering as English teachers for under-privileged kids in China. Among the Americans was a very attractive girl from Emory, named Ali. We talked for a bit in the hope of having a mutual friend - both equally shocked to find someone from Atlanta on a mountain in Yangshuo (of all places) - and arranged to meet later in the evening.

Theresa and I still weren't done climbing as we decided to go for the real summit, which was situated atop a moon shaped rock formation. When we finally reached the top we crashed atop a pile of rocks and enjoyed the beauty of the surrounding countryside. There was no one around and the only thing we could hear was the wind, so this was the perfect way to unwind after all the strenuous cycling and climbing. If the sun wasn't beating down on me and I wasn't out of water I might have called it a day and slept here because I was completely knackered.

But we still had a hike down the mountain and a 7-8km bike ride back into town to contend with, and we decided to be done with it sooner rather than later. So, a little after 1900 we rode back into town and agreed to meet for dinner.

Back at my dormitory I unlocked the door to find a girl clad only in a bath towel (what could be better, right?!). After apologizing and giving her time to change we sat down to formally introduce ourselves. In a strong Italian accent, she said: "Hello, my name is Francesca." We spent the next ten minutes chatting (like many Italians, Francesca loves to talk), and as always we had a canny amount in common. Francesca is a student at Oxford University, and it is strange to think we were both studying there at the same time two summers ago. She even works at one of the more popular bars in the city of Oxford, so there is a fair chance we have seen each other before (unknowingly, obviously).

After I showered Francesca and I went to a nearby restaurant for a drink of the local brew. I nearly lost track of time before I remembered to meet Theresa and her family for dinner at their hotel. It was a nice restaurant, and Theresa's mother was treating me to dinner because they have not had the greatest luck in ordering Chinese food on this trip. I can understand where they are coming from as Chinese food can be terribly rewarding or just terribly, well, terrible. The trick is knowing which foods are good to eat and which ones should never leave the kitchen (remember: the Chinese eat everything). Fortunately, everyone loved the dinner (which was a first for this trip, they claimed), and they even ordered seconds of several dishes. This bodes well for next summer when my brother comes to visit because if you don't like a country's food it is difficult to like a country - and my brother is the type who still only orders chicken fingers at restaurants.

After dinner, Theresa and I met Francesca, Ali, and the rest of the Americans for a night out on the town. We bought $0.40USD beer from a local shop - mine was literally called Better and made by Liquan - and drank at the main square in Yangshuo before heading off for the bars and pubs that line Xie Jie (West Street). We had a group of 12 people in tow, so everywhere we went we were able to dominate the dance floor.

When I finally stumbled back to my bed for the night I couldn't help feeling this was a perfect way to kick off my next adventure through China.

August 05, 2007

HONG KONG

Wrapping up my Time in Hong Kong and an Over-Night Bus to China

Although she was hardly at the bottom of my list of people to see while in Hong Kong, I had to wait until my last day before I could meet with Jovia. We had coffee this morning at the Pacific Coffee Company in Kowloon Tong, and she brought along a friend, Nicola, who is a student at Cambridge University. We had plenty to talk about as both Jovia and I are crazy about traveling and can be equally outgoing. I have my fingers crossed she will be able to visit me in Tokyo some time over the next six months, otherwise we will have to wait until the Beijing Olympics.

Afterward, I was once more hurrying over to UST to meet with Kevin, a recently graduated student who will begin working for SunLife as an investment analyst. Kevin is a Beijing native who knows more about Chinese politics than anyone I have ever met, and as always he kept me up to date on the places I will be traveling to in the coming days. I consider myself to be fairly keen at keeping abreast of Chinese news, but somehow some absurdly large events have slipped by me. I will refrain from posting such news because of censorship (it really is quite serious), but I have plenty of stories for when I return. Let it suffice to say that all is not as rosy as you may think in the world's "fastest growing economy".

I made my way back to Alvis' apartment where I finished packing my things into a backpack, and after saying goodbye to Alvis and his family I set out for the Chinese border at 4pm. I didn't have any tickets or bookings for the evening, but after trying different bus agencies I eventually found a 2030 departure heading for Yangshuo.

The bus was much nicer than I imagined: I was made to take my shoes off before climbing aboard, and there was a stewardess who attended to the passengers for the entire 10 hour ride. I love how far $15USD can get you in a place like China!

August 04, 2007

HONG KONG

Dim Sum Breakfast and Catching up with Old Friends

Having stayed up until 4am to watch Arsenal pull off a 2-1 win over Lazio last night made getting up this morning slightly more difficult than usual. However, when Alvis told me his mom was taking us out for a dim sum breakfast the prospects for the day significantly improved.

Dim Sum is a style of Chinese eating - found predominantly in the Canton region (Guangdong province and Hong Kong) - whereby a group of people sit together and order a variety of small dishes that are usually sweet and bite-size. Dim sum meals usually take place on Saturday or Sunday morning when an entire family has the opportunity to spend time together, and as was the case this morning, the restaurants are usually packed with people.

After dim um, I had to hurry off to meet several friends for a drink in Hang Hau, which is only 15 minutes away from UST campus. One of the people I met for coffee was Heidi, an UST business student currently interning with a Mercedes-Benz dealership in Hong Kong. I have not seen Heidi since I left 6 months ago, but from the look of it she is still doing quite well.

Afterward, I was once more off and running to the bustling district of Mong Kok to meet a group of friends for dinner at a Satay restaurant. I have to give a big thanks to Shela for setting everything up for me, especially considering I only gave her 24 hours worth of notice!

After we finished eating we began wandering the streets of Mong Kok in search of dessert - Hong Kong style. It didn't take us long to find what we were looking for: a large shop selling mixed-fruit drinks with tapioca balls inside. Although I have never seen this in the United States, it is equally as refreshing as a smoothie, and not nearly as expensive. I shied away from the "bird's nest" flavor - sticking to the safe realm of strawberry and banana - and as much as my friends pressured me I was not up for trying the "turtle shell tea". I don't care how healthy "turtle shell tea" (which is actually quite famous for its medicinal uses) is because I know the taste is gut-wrenchingly awful. Maybe next time. Maybe.

Knowing it would be a long time before we all see each other again, and with none of us eager for a good night to come to an end, we decided to walk a couple kilometers from Mong Kok to the Hong Kong waterfront. Although I didn't know this at the time, Shela was sneakily snapping pictures of me en route. It has been a long-running joke amongst us that I tried to date Flora in the past, but as she never showed the same interest back I have been the butt of many jokes. When I received these photos from Shela several days later I knew my attempts were not going unnoticed!

We reached the waterfront at 10pm, which was a shame because it is just after the viewing platform closed. Nevertheless, I was able to snap pictures of the most amazing city-line waterfront, but as usual they came out slightly blurred because they are all long-distance night-time shots.

Shortly after midnight I caught the last train back to the New Territories. I knew this was nearly the end of my Hong Kong adventure as tomorrow night I will move on to China. But first there was still a little more "fun to be had" as I couldn't resist posing for the following movie advertisement in the KCR station...

Childish, I know.

August 03, 2007

HONG KONG

Trip to Lamma Island and a Night in Lang Kuai Fang

As we planned yesterday, I met Virginia at 10am this morning in Tsim Tsa Tsui's MTR station. We made our way across the bay to Central, where we caught a morning ferry to Lamma Island. It only took half an hour to reach the island's docks, but en route Virginia and I met an Australian girl, August, who was also planning a day at the beach. Naturally, we invited her to join us and off we went.

Lamma Island is famous for two reasons: 1) its laid back atmosphere (there are only two small villages on the entire island), and 2) Chow Yun-Fat (the actor from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Pirates of the Caribbean 3)grew up here. Funnily enough, he was actually a post-man in Hong Kong before becoming one of Asia's most well-known actors. Maybe such useless knowledge will come in handy on a game show in the future - you never know.

After alighting from the ferry we had a 45 minute walk to reach the beach, and by the time we found it I was already drenched in sweat. The weather has been terrific since I arrived in Hong Kong, but the 33C heat means my sweat glands are always on a short timer. Fortunately, the water was perfect for cooling off. Plus, since most Chinese girls are terrified of the sun (the opposite of Western culture), most of the other people at the beach stayed under the shade of the trees - leaving the water to ourselves.

After several hours of mixing it up between sunbathing, reading the newspaper, chatting, and swimming, we decided to try something new and set out on a hike across the island. This was definitely tough going as there was no shelter from the heat and we were hiking over hills the whole way, but the views were terrific.

We reached the other village on Lamma Island after about an hour of walking, and were thrilled to see we could catch a ferry back to Hong Kong from here (it would have been unbearable to walk back the way we came). From the fishing village it was another 15 minutes walking through a sub-tropical jungle that reminded me a lot of the mangrove boardwalks from Florida.

At one point, we saw a five inch spider hanging over the path, and I was naturally nominated to lead from then on - it wasn't like I could just say "No". Guys can be such suckers, but girls are worse for taking advantage of us.

Anyway, the beach made everything worthwhile as there were more lifeguards on duty than there were swimmers. I threw my stuff down and swam out to a floating dock 50m off-shore. There was a French girl named Fanny sunbathing there, and with both Virginia and August sunbathing on the beach I began chatting.

Fanny just finished a two month engineering internship in Shanghai, and since I spent two months there last summer we had plenty to talk about. Although I have never been to her hometown in southern France (she claims only 250 people live there), I have been through the region and I even remembered some of my high school French (much to her amusement).

We finally left Lamma Island on the 5:30pm ferry, and we all agreed to meet up later in the evening for dinner and a night soaking up the Hong Kong nightlife. I was meeting another Hong Kong friend, Roy, later in the evening, so everything integrated together quite well. The only problem was that I didn't put on enough sun tan lotion, and my back and face are now bright red. There isn't much I can do about it now, but it will make carrying my 45 liter backpack tricky when I leave Hong Kong. Virginia's theory is that I was too busy talking with Fanny to pay any attention to the sun.

My friend, Roy, is an investment banker for UBS, and in Hong Kong being an investment banker basically means you are set for life. The trouble in investment banking is that you are worked ragged. For example, Roy had to leave a meeting to meet me for a 10pm dinner on Friday night, and after a couple hours he actually had to head back to work on the 51st floor of Hong Kong's tallest building, the International Finance Center. Nevertheless, it was great seeing him again, and as he will soon be moved to UBS' Singapore location I hope to show him around Singapore next month. Singapore girls love money, and he will be a hot commodity there!

I finished up the night in Hong Kong's popular Lang Kuai Fang district (LKF, for shot), which is basically several blocks of open bars and dance clubs. The noise is intense, and you have to look around for drink specials, but it is always a great atmosphere.

By the time I got home it was well after 3am and I was dead-tired, but Arsenal were competing in an Amsterdam tournament and I stayed up to watch them win yet again. My biggest concern is finding a way to make up for all the sleep I have missed out on over the past couple of days. Just when I thought I was caught up I went and blew it again!

And this was supposed to be my "down-time" vacation in Hong Kong!

August 02, 2007

HONG KONG

Hong Kong Island, the Star Ferry, and Lantau Island

When my train pulled into the Shenzhen station at 5am this morning I knew the wonders of Hong Kong were within spitting distance - Shenzhen is still China, after all, and spitting is more than allowable here. However, before the fun could begin I sat inside a noodle shop draining cups of hot tea while I waited for Chinese immigration to open at 6:30am. Fortunately, clearing immigration has become a pain-free process as I have a technique down pat and I have all my essentials memorized.

The picture to the right shows my last view of mainland China as I hopped aboard the KCR (Kowloon-Canton Railway) for the short ride to Hong Kong. I alighted at Fanling Station where I met Alvis, a great friend I made during my time in Hong Kong. He was doing me a huge service by pulling himself out of bed at the painful hour of 7am, and by the time we walked back to his mom's flat both of us were drenched in sweat from Hong Kong's 33C heat.

After a quick shower and a phone call to another friend, Tak, we caught the KCR to Hong Kong Island. At the top of my agenda was getting a Vietnamese visa, and we reached the Vietnamese consulate in Wan Chai by 9:30am. After forking over 500HKD, I received an express visa for 30 days and a huge burden was taken off my shoulders (Vietnamese visas are notoriously difficult to attain). I then followed Tak and Alvis as they sniffed out a local tea house serving a traditional Hong Kong breakfast of congee (rice porridge), barbeque pork, and milk tea. This kind of food was my staple breakfast during my time in Hong Kong, but it cannot compare to a good meal of dim sum - a meal I have been craving since I left back in January, 2007.

After breakfast, we did a bit more walking through downtown Hong Kong. Shown above and below are a series of pictures taken from the streets of Hong Kong Island - hopefully they give some kind of an idea of what an amazing city this is.

Rather than riding the MTR across the causeway, we decided to catch the famous Star Ferry to Tsim Tsa Tsui in Kowloon. The weather for the day ranks among the best I have ever seen in Hong Kong, so the views as we rode the ferry were phenomenal. Below are pictures of Hong Kong Island by day.

We couldn't linger in the dense crowds of Tsim Tsa Tsui (TST) because we were heading for Lantau Island, which features a massive statue of Buddha and is one of Hong Kong's traditional tourist attractions. Ashamedly, neither I, Tak, nor Alvis have ever been there before. It is strange, but when you live in a place the things you end up doing are entirely different from when you are just visiting. Today, we decided to all be tourists.

The MTR took about an hour to reach our desired station (passing the Hong Kong Disney Land en route), and from there we had another 30 hour mini-bus ride along twisting coastal roads to reach the Buddha. As can be seen from the picture to the left, the statue lives up to the hype in terms of size. Other than taking pictures, there wasn't a whole lot to do except walk around and the local temple and several nearby paths.

The one big bonus to my time here was meeting another American girl, Virginia, who is from Los Angeles. I picked up a conversation with her, and as she was traveling alone she decided to tag along with us. She arrived yesterday from Osaka (Japan), where she spent two years teaching English and loving every second of life in Japan. This was music to my ears, and I am now even more excited about my upcoming time there.

Virginia has been out of the States for roughly four years now, with a long stint in Thailand (she speaks Thai) and adventures all over southeast Asia. We naturally got along, and agreed to meet tomorrow morning for a trip to a nearby island that promises good beaches.

As for Alvis, Tak, and I, we headed for Mong Kok, which is the massive shopping district that ranks among the most densely populated places on earth. We met another friend there, Debby, and while others grabbed food I had a quick haircut at a salon. I suppose it is a good sign for my Chinese competency when I am able to get the exact haircut that I want.

Alvis' mom cooked dinner for us at 8pm, and there was a good group of people who came over to enjoy the food. His mom has always wanted to open her own restaurant, but being an only mother it has never been easy to make her dream a reality. Her food is still amazing, though, and I often joke that her cooking is the reason I come to visit. She knows my tastes well, and made some of my favorite dishes, including: sweet and sour pork, eggplant with mashed beef, fresh fish, chicken wings, prawns, vegetables with mushrooms, plus white rice and oolong tea.

After dinner I sat around the table with Alvis, Tak, and Debbie to play a game of mahjong. I was exhausted from the long day (I arrived at 5am this morning), but the Chinese love mahjong, and I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to play. Fortunately, luck and the slightest ounce of skill prevailed as I went on to win the first of several games.

I finally hit the pillow a little after 1am, and I was lights out within seconds.

In retrospect, I knew my first day back in Hong Kong would be full of fun, but I never expected for it to be this good.

August 01, 2007

Beijing/Shenzhen (CHINA)

A 29 Hour Train Ride from Beijing to Hong Kong and Summer Travel Itinerary

There is never a whole lot to write about when you are on a 29 hour train ride, and my trip from Beijing to Shenzhen was no exception to the rule. The only reason I left my bed was to use the toilet, pour hot water in my cup of ramen noodles, or walk the length of the train to stretch my legs. On the bright side, I was finally able to make up for all the sleep deprivation I have suffered over the past 6 months, but I suspect it won't be long before I find myself behind the curve once more. The trouble with feeling fresh and "ready to take on the world" is that one often takes up the challenge of taking on the world. I think I read something about this in 9th grade English Literature during the countless hours pouring over Homer's The Odyssey. "Hybris", I think it is called. Or maybe it is "Hubris"...

This is probably why I got a "B" in the silly class.

Anyway, the picture to the right shows the hard sleeper where I spent the majority of my time (top bunk). There were only about 2 feet of head room, so I laid down practicing Chinese and working out a rough itinerary while the train worked its way down the face of China. Call it last minute, but I am only now hammering out the places I will visit, and they plan looks like the following:

Hong Kong -> China -> Vietnam -> Cambodia -> Laos -> Thailand -> Myanmar (Burma) -> Thailand -> Malaysia -> Singapore -> Macau -> Hong Kong -> Japan

Maybe I should have paid better attention during those 9th grade lessons.