February 28, 2007

Mt. Bromo to Bali (INDONESIA)

Sunrise at Smoking Mt. Bromo and Arriving in Bali

I had to get up at 3am this morning to catch a jeep to Mt. Bromo. Understandably, it was a rough morning as our group didn't finish eating dinner together until after 11pm, and it was still quite a bit longer before sleep came. Not helping matters any, my mobile phone was still on Singapore time, which meant my alarm sounded one hour early. I felt bad because the Polish guy I roomed with was dressed and ready to go at 2am.

There was some drama at the park entrance for Mt. Bromo as the price we were being charged was 5x more than the guide books and information booklets suggested. We were staunchly divided between the people who didn't want to "bend over to such tactics", and those who figured a couple extra bucks isn't the end of the world. Things got heated as a Belgium traveler grabbed the ticket book, tore out enough for our group, and subsequently flung off a man who tried to stop him. Cooler heads eventually prevailed, and in the end we paid between what was being charged and what is standard. We all knew the entrance we were taken to was illegitimate, but there wasn't much we could do about it at the time because we had to rely on the driver.

The vantage point for the sunrise was stunning, but it was also quite cold, and I hadn't brought any warm clothes - Indonesia straddles the equator! I was able to rent a jacket (1USD) from my hotel before we left, but I was angry at being charged for something that should come standard.

While we were watching the sunrise there was a series of mini-eruptions off to our right at another of Indonesia's active volcanoes. It was the closest I have ever been to such an event, and it was exciting to watch.

By 6:30 we were back in the jeep and driving toward Mt. Bromo. It is nowhere near the largest of Indonesia's volcanoes, but people are able to get quite close and the surrounding scenery makes it one of the most popular. We had to fight through swarms of men offering to rent us horses for the steep climb, and rather than accepting our "no" they followed us up the volcano in groups. "Horse ride? Horse ride? Horse ride?", and so on...

There was a continuous billowing of smoke escaping from the basin of the volcano that was either photogenic or horribly engrossing depending on the direction of the wind. I was able to walk around the lip of the volcano for a quarter rotation, but I only had my Tevo sandals ("Jesus sandals") and I did not want to risk falling into the volcano. There was a 250m tumble on both sides, and the "path" of packed dirt was only 8 inches wide.

Next, we went back to the hotel and had some much needed breakfast before heading off to Bali at 10am. There was a bigger bus for this leg of the journey, but the promised eight hours turned into 13. The only positive aspect was we did not have to transfer buses for the journey as the bus went on the Java-Bali ferry as well.

For entertainment, there were local Indonesian boys swimming in the bay and collecting coins thrown by passengers. People would throw coins out to sea and watch the boys race one another to find the coin. They stored the coins in their mouths and chewed on them like spitting tobacco while an additional boy directed them from the top of the ferry. When the ferry pushed off, the last local boy jumped to the cheers of the passengers. We all threw rupiah bills for the stunt.

We arrived at the capital of Bali, Denpasar, at around 11pm. Rather than spending the night in the city, we arranged transportation to a place called Ubud in the middle of the island. This made the day even longer as we hadn't had dinner, we had been up since 3am, we spent an entire day on a bus, and then we had to find a place to stay for the night after midnight.

In the end, everything worked itself out, and nothing felt so good as lying down for sleep.

February 27, 2007

Yogyakarta to Mt. Bromo (Indonesia)

Long Day on the Bus

Before boarding the 9am bus to Mount Bromo, I walked through the city one last time in search of a busy warung serving Jogja's special dish, pedas gudeg ayam. It consists of a leg of chicken that has been fried in coconut juice, and it is served with rice, vegetables, and a mixture of spices. I have continued my habit of eating with my hands, and once more I noticed a few side glances from other tourists.

I boarded a minibus for Mount Bromo in Eastern Java at 9am with three Dutch girls, a Polack, and a Singaporean. I spent several hours discussing the economic and political side of Asia as the Polack studied in Beijing for five years and the Singaporean naturally knew quite a lot. I don't know if it is just random luck, but somehow I come across the most knowledgeable and interesting people when I travel.

We checked into a hotel near the volcanoes late in the evening, and negotiated a jeep ride for the morning. Other than chatting - it was a 12 hour bus ride - there wasn't a whole lot of excitement today.

February 26, 2007

Yogyakarta (INDONESIA)

Bicycling to Prambanan and Touring Yogyakarta

Prambanan Photo Gallery

Yogyakarta Photo Gallery

I had intended to bicycle to Prambanan before sunrise this morning, but sleep got in the way. Instead, I started off just after 9am with the mountain bike I rented the night before. It was a scorching hot Indonesian day, and without any cloud cover I lathered myself in sun screen. I already have a dark tan on my neck and arms, but thankfully I haven't had to deal with any sunburns.

There were several main roads would lead to the temples, which were 20km outside Jogja, but I didn't want to do all my traveling along traffic infested streets. I did my best to plan a new route that took me through more of the countryside, but it was inevitably a longer way and it was inevitable I would get lost somewhere along the way.

After about an hour of cycling through the city, I broke free of the jammed bemos, cecaks, and public buses. The next segment on the journey was a 5km stretch of Java's East-West highway where I had to pedal like my life depended on it (an all too appropriate description). I used the highway because I was hoping to spend the afternoon backtracking through the countryside. Unfortunately, this is where my planned route broke down, and every 20 minutes I stopped to ask locals to point me in the right direction. They were all too happy to help, and I could tell they found my situation just as amusing as I did.

With some guidance, I found a small road running parallel to a canal that lead me toward the Prambanan temples. The canal was used as a source of water for the rice paddies, and the road itself was reserved primarily for local farmers and children riding to/from school. Given that I was in the middle of nowhere, the views of the rice fields were phenomenal, and the children would peddle alongside me laughing and crisscrossing my path.

By noon I arrived at the entrance to Prambanan. I locked up my bike and paid a local man to watch it for 1000Rp, or 10cents. Although it is believed the temples were built within 100 years of Borobudor (roughly 8th century), the Prambanan temples are of Hindu origin. My guide book wrote that the temples are the finest example of Hindu architecture in the world - a tough standard to live up to - but they did not disappoint. The main temple complex towered over the surrounding countryside and gave the area an ancient feel.

An earthquake struck Java about a year ago and destroyed many of the temples so there was still construction going on when I arrived. In my opinion, Indonesia has had some of the worst luck when it comes to disasters. Here is a quick rundown of the big hits the country has endured over the past ten years: 97' Asian Financial Crisis, 97' riots, guerilla warfare in Aceh, 05' volcano eruption on Java, 05' tsunami killing 600 on Java, 04' Boxing day tsunami wiping out all of north Sumatra, guerilla warfare in Papua, frequent earthquakes, and so on...

Since it was Monday, there were virtually no tourists in the park and I was free to wander in peace. The only people I met were a group of local students who came to tour the temples as an afternoon outing. One of the girls (who also happened to be incredibly beautiful) was from Bali, and she gave me a lot of insider information on where to go and what to expect. I have been worrying about whether Bali is worth visiting because it is such a tourist destination - in 2006 it was rated the world's best place to vacation - but she assured me that most of the partying tourists stick to the southern beaches of Kuta. Although this is something I should see, I did not come around the world to see another version of Miami's South Beach..

Despite rain hampering my progress on the ride back to Jogja, it was still much easier as I knew where I was going this time around. Rather than turning the bike in, I rode through the old walled portion of the city (kraton, show to left) where I also came across a local market.

The market featured a variety of things, but the ones that caught my eye were the screened boxes of grasshoppers, the bowls of squirming maggots, and the rice filled plates that were infested with large ants (all being bought by locals).

The last order of business for the night was booking a bus ticket for the following day. I found a deal where I could visit an active volcano en route to Bali, and I jumped at the prospect. The route includes two consecutive days of bus travel, but such things cannot be avoided.

February 25, 2007

Yogyakarta (INDONESIA)

Borobudor Temple, Touching Buddha, and Loving Every Minute of Yogyakarta

Borobudor Photo Gallery

I arrived in Yogyakarta at 4:30 this morning after a sleepless night on the train. Rather than checking into a hotel at an ungodly hour (a sure way to start off on a bad foot), I decided to wait out the morning. A woman I met on the train directed me to a 24 hour internet cafe where I had a bite to eat and worked on the webpage.

By 7am the public buses began running and I caught one to the main bus terminal. From the station, I transferred onto another bus bound for the small town of Borobudor where Buddhism's spectacular Borobudor Temple is located. Built around 700AD, the Buddhist temple at Borobudor is rivaled only by Cambodia's Angkor Wat as being Asia's greatest architectural masterpiece - and I was anxious to see it.

I am not an expert when it comes to architecture so I will do my best to summarize what I saw. The temple was a squat structure, square at the base, with a walkway on each of the ascending levels. A large stupa was positioned at the apex, and it was surrounded by a variety of small monuments that looked like stone bells. The verdant green of forests and grasslands shot off in all directions providing an attractive contrast the to aged stone.

A few local girls toured the temple with me in hope of practicing their English. I was more than happy to help them out and in the end it was almost like having a free tour guide. They showed me the Buddha hidden inside one of the stone monuments and told me touching him brings good fortune. Many of the surrounding tourists began cheering when I was able to nick the fingers of the Buddha with my long arms so maybe there is some truth to the whole legend. If something bad should happen, at least I have this going for me.

As more tourists began pouring into the park it became crowded at the temple. I became the center of attention with all the students who had come to practice their English and/or interview a foreigner as a school assignment. I must have conducted an interview with 30 different groups and posed for hundreds of pictures because it lasted over three hours. Having adopted the name Ricky for this trip (it is much easier for the locals to pronounce), I had a laugh as the girls would sigh in unison, "Ricky! Ricky Martin..." I did not feel like a pop star, but I did develop a better appreciation for how difficult it is to maintain high levels of enthusiasm for each group.

The onset of rain clouds finally chased me away from Borobudor. I headed back to Yogyakarta, called Jogja for short, which is often described as Indonesia in a nutshell. The city has long been known for its dominance of Indonesian culture, but I have not seen enough of Indonesia to comment further on this. What I can easily say is that Jogja is one of the few cities I actually like. There is a lot going on here, but nothing is over the top and the people are unconditionally friendly.

The city also has a big underground art scene. Paintwork, similar to what is shown to the left, covers many building walls creating an organic feel. Unlike other cities where paint is thrown up to "tag" a building, Jogja has legalized the practice of graffiti and encouraged the city's best to display their work. Additionally, there are musicians aplenty. Every time I ride a public bus there is at least one guitarist who is performing. While this is obviously a great way to make money, the locals (who are accustomed to such tactics) still show an appreciation by contributing to the better artists.

I didn't check into a hostel until 7pm because it was such a rewarding day of exploring. After unloading my backpack and taking another cold shower (how can I complain at only 3USD/night), the owner directed me to a local haunt for dinner. I have now grown accustomed to eating with my hands - although I must look like a man from the jungle to any westerners who see me shoveling food into my mouth. I figure, "When in Rome..."

Tomorrow, I will bicycle to Prambanan where the best collection of Hindu Temples are located. It will be a full day of riding as the temples dot the landscape roughly 20km outside the city.

February 24, 2007

Jakarta (INDONESIA)

Tough Life in Jakarta and a Knock Back to the Ugly Reality of Indonesia

I spent last night at the main backpacker's haunt in Jakarta, but my hostel was a real cheapie (as can be expected at only 3USD/night in a big city). There were only three other guests staying at the hostel, and I was again struck by how few tourists there are in Indonesia. I figured that Jakarta, the capital of the world's fourth largest country (behind China, India, and the United States), would be teeming with tourists. Not so at all.

I had a rough night as there were holes in the dormitory screens and mosquitoes kept biting me in the dark. Without blankets or sheets there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it, but I tried everything from laying my extra clothes over my legs to tucking my arms inside my shirt. I even had my feet inside the pillow case at one point because my ankles kept being bitten. Eventually, I pulled the mattress sheet off and wrapped myself in it like a sleeping bag.

Life did not get any easier in the morning. The shower water didn't even qualify as lukewarm - it was flat out cold. Making matters worse, the shower head was broken so I was stuck using what basically amounted to a hose. It has been a couple of days since my last shower so I endured the misery and scrubbed myself clean with soap and shampoo.

Suffering through a restless night and a cold shower are never good ways to start off in a new city, but fortunately the kopi (coffee) was hot and the food was good. I have discovered what is hands-down my favorite Indonesian food, Gado-Gado. The good thing about Gado-Gado is that it is cheap, quick to make, and relatively healthy since it is made from a mixture of vegetables. The bad thing about Gado-Gado is that it is quite messy (I eat it with my hands, as is the local style) and I am now eating from the local warung.

Warung are to Indonesian restaurants (not exactly big on hygiene to begin with) what New York hot dog stalls are to five-star dining. I don't want to go into too much detail describing a typical warung because I actually eat at them, but to give you an idea the picture to the left shows the warung I had breakfast at this morning. Before you ask, the answer is: "Yes, it is the place covered by the blue tarp underneath the f*** off graffiti."

After breakfast I began exploring Jakarta. Much like Delhi, my first impression was tarnished by the filth, the heavy congestion of people, and the numbing smoke from too many cars. I started off in the old section of the city, Kuta, which has the last remnants of Dutch influence. Although the supposed Dutch quarter turned out to be practically non-existent, I did satisfy my obligation to "experience the history of Jakarta."

I don't think I have mentioned this yet, but much of Indonesia was once a Dutch colony before World War II. I will not bore you with a history lesson as 1) I probably would have skimmed such a section myself (were I in your shoes), and 2) It is a pain to summarize hundreds of years of history in a few paragraphs. I have done enough of that in primary and secondary school - and I doubt even my teacher read everything. Suffice to say there was a tremendous amount of bloodshed as various factions of Indonesia fought the Dutch for independence, which they finally received after WWII.

The picture to the left deserves an explanation, and I am not talking about the history of the drawbridge. If you look closely at the man on the right you will notice he is urinating into the river. I didn't even notice him until I started walking away, and I still can't believe it showed up in the shot. I was trying to capture the bridge in as positive a way as possible (blocking out as much grime as I could), but there is no hiding the fact that Jakarta is a mess.

After taking obligatory photos of the Dutch quarter, I headed for Jakarta's harbor about 2km north. Rather than taking a rickshaw or taxi I figured I would walk to the port and get a better feel for the less frequented part of the city.

There is a reason harbors always seem to be located in a seedy part of a city, and I don't know what I was thinking in wanting to walk through it. It wasn't even like there was much to see along the way other than third world living conditions and all the rotten filth that goes along with it. The picture to the right shows an enormous pile-up of garbage at the entrance to a sprawling neighborhood of shacks. I saw far worse along the way but there were always people around, and I felt guilty taking pictures in front of them. Such filth is an everyday reality for them and, unlike me, the locals cannot just continue walking or hop in a taxi when they have had enough.

I next wandered through the Chinese district of Jakarta where the riots were concentrated several years ago. There were still signs of the destruction that took place as the Indonesians burnt Chinese shops, murdered the men, and raped many of the women. The stories are horrific to hear, but the government has since made steps to try and quell Indonesian animosity toward the Chinese (3% of the population).

I feel bad posting such pictures and writing such negative observations, but this is the Jakarta that I saw. Indeed, the smells, the sounds, the muddy streets, and the hopeless look on the face of the poor made the reality far worse than what I have written. Perhaps Jakarta once offered prosperity and hope, but somewhere along the way that bright future was lost for a large portion of the residents.

After visiting the grimy part of the city I was left feeling dirty and tired of the filth in Jakarta. I decided to change things up by visiting the United States embassy for a little reminder of home. The embassy is located in one of the nicer parts of Jakarta, and I actually enjoyed the walk as Jakarta's largest park is nearby. As I approached the embassy, I was stopped by armed guards about half a mile away. I had to show them my passport and explain my purpose, but they lightened up somewhat when I told them I simply wanted to register with the embassy. Unfortunately, the embassy is closed on Saturdays and rather than kicking up a fuss I continued on my way.

I spent the late hours of the afternoon near the National Monument, which is easily the most peaceful part of the city. Other than relaxing on the benches, I posed for photographs with local students who wanted to practice their English, and I played a couple games of chess with local Indonesian men. Although I won my first match, I was blown away in the second. As much as I would like to think otherwise, I have a sneaky suspicion I was allowed to win the first match so I would bet on the second (which I refused to do).

At 7pm I caught a train bound for Yogyakarta (or Jogja, for short). I opted for the standard 10 hour economy train figuring it would not be too bad, but I was in for a rude awakening. I was stuck on the kind of seat you find on a school bus and the bars were positioned so that no position was comfortable. However, the rude awakening came about two hours into the trip when I was leaning against the window dazing off into the dark.

WHAM! The first thought in my mind was that a bomb went off because the shock from the window reverberated straight through my skull. I jumped back form the window and saw the broken glass where a projectile had struck. I was just as surprised as everyone else on the train - not only because some one would do such a thing but because it happened to the only westerner on the train. Several people asked if I wanted to change seats for fear it would happen again, but I explained the odds of being hit twice were quite low.

Thankfully, there were only small shards of glass that I could brush off without drawing blood. My mind began going over what would have happened if the projectile was thrown a split second later so it was on target with my head resting on the window. Then, I naturally started to wonder what would have happened if it had been something more than a rock - like a bullet. The window was made of a tough plastic (roughly 1cm thick) and it must have taken a great deal of force to shatter it. Such an act is obviously designed to send a message, and with no chance of being caught I am very thankful it was not a bullet.

Although I have not been shy about telling people I am American, I do not think I was the intended target per se. At the time of impact, the train was moving at around 10-15mph and it would have been difficult to pick me out (although the train's indoor lights were quite bright). Such thoughts are not worth focusing on now as it is already in the past. More importantly, the more I do think about it the more I worry about the what ifs.

The most important thing is that I walked away unharmed and the situation could have been much worse, all things considered. I suppose this is the answer to my question of why there aren't more Westerners in Indonesia. The United States State Department advises against all travel to Indonesia, but I shrugged this off as being overprotective. I figured the bombing of a Bali night club, the bombing of the Australian embassy in Jakarta, and the repeat bombing in Bali were all things of the past. Even now, I consider Indonesia to be an incredibly safe place as long as one keeps their wits about them. This was just bad luck.

But bad luck or not, just like that and my life could have been over - and there is nothing I or anyone else could have done to stop it.

February 23, 2007

Danau Maninjau, Padang, Jakarta (INDONESIA)

Enjoying the Local Market and Traveling from Sumatra to Java

I made an early start this morning as I wanted to hike to a waterfall 4km from the lake. Armed only with the Indonesian word for waterfall, I had to switch motorbikes several times because friendly locals kept dropping me off at the wrong place. It's good to know the whole no signs thing doesn't just affect me.

When I found the village with the correct path to the waterfall I stopped to have some breakfast and buy water before beginning the hike. While I was eating a few locals started chatting, and one of them actually spoke decent English. He asked if I would be going to the waterfall alone (a question I often get, and one that always makes me somewhat nervous), and when I told him yes he seemed quite surprised. After looking me over, he pointed out that the locals only make the journey in long pants and boots because it is 3km through knee deep jungle. Looking down at my Tevo sandals and shorts, he only had to say the word leeches for me to take the hint.

So no waterfall, but no way is ever broken in Sumatra.

I hopped on another motorbike and was dropped off at a market I had seen earlier in the morning. I was desperate to take pictures of the event, but walking around with my camera in hand is quite awkward. It always attracts the attention of the locals - their eyes drift immediately to my camera and their demeanor changes ever so slightly.

Since pictures aren't readily available (other than the one to the right), imagine a flea market occupying half a city block with bright orange tarp overhangs that are only five feet off the ground and ropes going every which way. Most of the vendors were squatting with their goods, which ranged from dried or live fish, a variety of fruits and coconuts, sets of machetes and other tools, and a smattering of food stalls. Between the low roof, the muddy ground, the dead (or dying) fish, and the over-abundance of people, I had to adjust my claustrophobia settings. I ended up buying a variety of fruits I had never seen before, and always got toothless smiles of warmth from the vendors (usually an old woman).

Periodically, small groups of laughing kids would follow behind me, and on several occasions passing girls would veer ever so slightly into my path to brush arms. I figured it is not every day these Muslim girls have the chance to see a Western man in their market, and they were every bit as curious about new things as me.

I next took an opelet (main form of local transportation in Indonesia) to a town 25km from the lake in hope of finding a ride to Sumatra's largest city, Padang (where I would catch a flight to Jakarta). While I was in Bukittinggi I heard horror stories about 48 hour bus rides from Padang to Jakarta, and at only 39USD it made far more sense to opt for the 90 minute flight. I was curious if I would be flying in a twin prop airplane because I have never seen a 39USD standard fare.

I had to wait two hours for the next bus to pass through so I walked across the street to find a toilet. I passed a permanent food stall with ten people gathered around watching a game of Dominos, and as is often the case, the next thing I knew I was sitting in the middle of the group burning my Indonesian phrases. It is not as hard to pick up a language as one might think, but you must be selective with the words you learn. For instance, here are the words/phrases I have learned over the past few days:

1) I love Indonesia/Indonesian women - people always want to know what you think of their country, and this is a surefire way to get on their good side

2) He is crazy - there is always a jokester in the group, and this phrase is the best way to loosen up locals who might otherwise be nervous around a foreigner

3) Where is the toilet?

4) How much? Where? What time?

5) I am not married - many Indonesians have asked about my age and whether I am single

6) I speak little little - most locals respond with "little little" when asked if they speak English. They start laughing if you have the same response, but in their language

6) I am from America. But no George Bush - if the crazy joke or little-little joke don't work, this one always has the locals laughing and inviting me in

The bus picked me up just after 1pm, but I didn't arrive in Padang until the late afternoon. The bus ride was the craziest I have been on yet - we quite literally came within inches of everything from motorbikes to "taksis" to trucks transporting oil. While I was subconsciously clutching the seat in front of me the locals were cheering the driver on by banging the seats and tapping the windows with coins.

There isn't a whole lot to say about the city of Padang, except that it offered my first glimpse of the beautiful Indian Ocean, and I chatted with local police officers for about an hour. It was pot luck meeting the police as I was simply walking the city and killing time. They spoke better English than most people from Sumatra, but I could tell how excited they were to hear I am from America. I some times forget that despite all the negative press directed toward the United States, there is still a great longing and respect toward the country and its people. As always, I gave them my contact information with the hope they will some day have the opportunity to visit me.

I caught my flight late in the evening, and arrived in Jakarta at 11pm. I met a terrific woman on the flight who has both an engineering degree and a law degree. I pumped her for information about her work, but she said it is a lot of paperwork, long hours, and a great deal of traveling. She found it very strange when I told her I wasn't Muslim, and that I do not even have a religion. She was kind-hearted about it, but told me that I cannot marry until I decide on my religion. I explained that if the girl is beautiful enough, any religion is fine with me.

That is enough for today. Tomorrow, I will tour Jakarta, Indonesia's wild capital. I have survived Sumatra, but who knows what Java has in store for me.

February 22, 2007

Danau Maninjau (SUMATRA)

Paradise at Maninjau and Motor Biking for an Afternoon

Danau Maninjau Photo Gallery

Maninjau by Motorbike Photo Gallery

I had to be out of my Bukittinggi hotel for the 9am check out, but before heading off I savored every last drop of hot water from the shower. I didn't have a towel to dry off, though, so I hopped on the bed and rolled around until I was suitably dry. For breakfast, I have been careful about eating eggs or chicken because Indonesia has the highest bird flu mortality rate. For now, I am sticking to the basics of toast, coffee, and fruit. Before catching a bus to Danau (Lake) Maninjau, I had several academic issues to take care of and I also posted some updates to the website. Without my laptop I would never be able to keep the journal going because I don't have the time to sit at an internet cafe and type updates. As it is, I write as I eat or as I am trying to sleep, and then find an internet cafe with a friendly owner who allows me to connect my laptop directly to the web.

Enough of the boring stuff.

It took roughly two hours to make the journey to Maninjau, but the final 30 minutes was memorable: we descended down 44 hairpin turns to reach the lake. At one point a motorcycle even ran off the road because there wasn't enough room for both of us. The road looked like it was once a footpath that was later converted because the turns were clearly not meant for large vehicles.

I alighted from the bus at a lake-side town called Bayur in hope of finding a homestay for the evening. I wasn't sure which way to walk as there were no signs, no one spoke English, and there certainly weren't other tourists to ask.

In the end, I figured no way is broken in Sumatra.

After about a kilometer of walking I came across a sign advertising Arlen's Paradise. I figured any place that describes itself as a paradise must be an absolute dive, and the sign  didn't make it seem much better. In the end, I had to walk across several rice fields and cross a small wooden footbridge before I even found the homestay - I was afraid the place had closed down because it took so long to find it.

As soon as I arrive it was obvious this place was an amazing find! The lodging consisted of five small bungalows nestled against the lake in what felt like a world of its own. I was thankful for having to walk so far to find Arlen's because I was far from the noise of the road (not that there was that much traffic to begin with). Only one of the five bungalows was occupied, and it was by an elderly Dutch couple who had also happened across Arlen's. Like me, they instantly fell in love and decided to spend two weeks enjoying the solitude. At only 5 bucks a night I couldn't believe my good fortune - this was the same price I was paying for the concrete holding cells in Batam and Bukittinggi.

The best part of the place was the view form my front porch. It looks like the setting for the Corona commercials where the man and woman are relaxing without a worry in the world. I have uploaded a stream of live sound from the bungalow so you can have a better feel for the place. It should remind you what peace and quiet sound like.

The ingrained student in me was tempted to take out my homework and spend the afternoon studying in harmony, but the wiser part of me said it is better not to spoil a good thing. I caught a minibus to the lake's main town in hope of finding a bicycle for hire. A local cafe was able to point me in the right direction, but I couldn't get the bicycle I had hoped for.

Instead, I rented a man's motorbike for the afternoon. He was looking at me strangely as I jumped on the bike and started rolling it out of his garage. Little did he realize I have never ridden a motorbike before! I will stick to the argument that this little detail was simply "lost in translation."

The bike was manual, but I quickly learned how to shift gears and control the throttle. A little confidence goes a long way - a year ago I never would have pulled this stunt off. I gave the man five bucks, waived goodbye, and began circumnavigating the lake (with a helmet, I should add). The views were nothing short of stunning, but for the first half an hour I was primarily occupied with not killing myself. I stayed at around 40kmh as I tried to get a feel for the bike while dodging chickens, potholes, and most importantly, the occasional public bus that took up the whole road.

Once I had the basics mastered and could control the bike without thinking, I loosened my grip and straightened up in the afternoon sun. The lake was formed by a crater (it was easy to see the outline while we descended in the bus), and there were mountains on all sides. To the right of the road were the men and women working the rice fields while the view to the left afforded stunning vistas of the lake and the occasional set of fishing traps. The photo gallery is a must-see because words cannot do justice to how beautiful everything was. I could not have imagined a more perfect place for learning to ride a motorbike.

I stopped for a mid-afternoon lunch in the little town of Maninjau after I completed my first circumnavigation (roughly 50km). I was thankful the bike's owner was nowhere to be seen so I could do more riding later, but I was growing hot and hungry from the afternoon sun. While I was ordering my food two other travelers walked by and we exchanged greetings. As if Sumatra itself isn't out of the way enough, Danau Maninjau is even farther off the beaten path and seeing Westerners was a pleasant surprise. Usually, I cringe when I see groups of Westerners because I am afraid of being stuck in a touristy area. Suffice to say Sumatra does not fit the bill of being touristy.

The young couple were from New Zealand and were 3 weeks into a year-long journey around the world. Like many other world travelers, they opted for an around-the-world plane ticket. This is something I have considered given that I have done quite a bit of traveling over the past year, but I prefer to structure my trips so that the majority of it can be done over land. The two joined me for lunch and we had a good time chatting: the woman recently finished her PhD in Biology while the man was working as a structural engineer. It is strange that it works this way, but I meet more engineers and scientists when I travel than I do literature, business, or political science majors. I have many theories on this, but I find it more tactful if I keep them to myself.

After eating, I said my goodbyes and retraced my path around the lake (at a much slower pace). I must have waived to greet at least 75% of the people I passed, and following in my wake were always warm calls of "Hullooo."

I arrived back at Arlen's as the sun was making its final descent over the lake. I joined the elderly Dutch man, Tom, for a long chat along the waters edge. He laughed aloud when I told him I would be leaving tomorrow morning. He remarked, "Americans, Chinese, and Japanese all travel the same way: you arrive one day, take your pictures, and leave the next. All the while you think you  have seen the country, and if anyone should ask you have the pictures to prove it!" I rolled over laughing because he hit the nail on the head with his observation! I purposely design my schedule to maximize the number of places I can visit. Although I may not be as bad as the tour-guide tourists who pull up to places in an air-conditioned bus, get off to take pictures for 45 minutes, and then drive to the next stop, there is still an element of truth to what he said. I suppose another big difference is that Tom vacations, while I travel. My biggest fear is that I won't have a chance to return to these places so I want to make every second of every day memorable.

And today was certainly memorable.

** For any who did not pick up on my bad joke (I blame my parents), no sound was added to the webpage. **

February 21, 2007

Bukittinggi (SUMATRA)

Finally a Chance to Enjoy Myself and a Motorbike Ride for the Ages

Bukittinggi Photo Gallery

Pagaruyung Photo Gallery

Minangkabau Countryside

After checking into my hotel and bathing, I decided it is better to spend the day seeing the countryside of Bukittinggi than catching up on some much needed sleep. First, I had some logistical responsibilities that needed my attention. I headed to a local internet cafe to send off a few emails, print off several academic documents, and find out why on earth Arsenal lost their Champions League match with PSV Eindhoven (something I still can't get over). Although it is a pain keeping my academic affairs in order without the luxury of a desk and all my belongings, I would rather be doing this from Indonesia than my dormitory in Singapore.

At around noon I began touring Bukittinggi. Although there wasn't anything jaw-dropping to see, I had a few good laughs at a hybrid park that was comprised of an old Dutch fort, a worn down zoo, and a perky aviary. The parrots had picked up the "cat call" whistle, and were doing this every time some one walked by them. As for the fort, well, it was more of a lookout tower that wasn't big enough to look out over very much. I reached the zoo by crossing over an interesting bridge that spanned the main street of the city. I have seen my fare share of elephants, camels, and reindeer so I didn't spend too much time gawking - except for this little gem.

After fulfilling my duty to experience the city, I went to the bus station in search of a ride to the native Minangkabau countryside. I hopped aboard an innocent looking minibus that was preparing to leave with 12 people on board. As we headed out of the city the bus felt like it was stopping at every corner to pick up additional people - I couldn't believe my eyes when I counted 24 people in the van. Little did I know things would only get worse: we ended up with 34 people piled one on top of another on the inside, and the money collector hanging on to the outside of the van (how I prayed he would be swiped off for what he was doing to us). The whole ordeal felt like a circus act, or one of those Volkswagen Beatle competitions. I am afraid pictures do not do the situation justice because not everyone is visible, but just imagine me in the back of a hot minibus,  my head bent awkwardly downward because of the low roof, an elderly Muslim woman laying on my lap, and my arms waving around while I try to snap pictures of the ordeal.

The bus let me off in a small village about an hour outside the city. I made friends with a couple on the bus who also happened to be getting off at my stop. They ended up arranging a ride for the remaining 20 kilometers where I wanted to see the largest example of Minangkabau architecture, the Pagaruyung (King's Palace). Before I knew what was happening, they had called over a 16 year old boy from a local rice shop and I was climbing on the back of his motorbike. He had the good sense to hand me a helmet, but I was too busy smiling at the gawking locals and taking pictures of the stunning scenery.

The Pagaruyung was an impressive building for its unique style, but I couldn't figure out what purpose the strange design served - and it wasn't like anyone spoke English. There wasn't really a whole lot to do after looking at the building from a variety of angles, and even that was stretching my ingenuity. I decided to wander around the outskirts of the complex before finding a path that led to a large gathering under an old oak tree (not sure if it was oak, but you get the idea).

As I grew nearer I realized it was a school outing with ten moms and thirty young children playing a variety of games. I was hoping to observe them silently, but as soon as one of the moms noticed me she pointed me out, said something to the kids, and before I knew what was happening all thirty children were running toward me. The kids piled around me bearing those small teeth that are charming on young ones while the moms frantically snapped pictures. I ended up posing individually for each of the students while I held their hands. Since no one spoke English and I had already burned my Indonesian phrases, I awkwardly said goodbye when the photo shoot was over and did my best to figure out what just happened. The answer still hasn't come to me, but I am beginning to suspect they thought I was some one famous (presumably Brad Pitt or David Beckham - even I can't tell the difference at times).

Unwilling to head back to Bukittinggi just yet, I sat down with the vendors near the entrance and began making small talk. The locals took an immediate interest and abandoned their stalls (including the entrance gate) while we chatted for over two hours. The conversation was all over the place because no one was fluent in English, but between my tour book, pictures I had taken, and a lot of gesturing we had a great time conversing. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I was afraid I would miss the last minibus back to Bukittinggi for the night. I am contemplating going back tomorrow morning because one of the girls was absolutely stunning. It has been my theme thus far to "put the ball in play" and see what happens, so I may give this a try if I have the energy.

One of the other girls who chatted with us offered to drive me to a minibus stop and I readily agreed. I was back aboard a motorbike, but this time the ride was far wilder. I think she may have had a crush on me because she never took me to the minibus. Instead, we rode for over an hour through the unadulterated Minangkabau landscape in what has easily become one of the more memorable experiences of my life. The photo gallery is worth perusing because the rice terraces, volcano backdrop, and farm workers were from a world long forgotten. I took video** of my favorite portion of the ride because it was too difficult to snap proper photos while we were cruising at a cool 80 kmh. Between the verdant rice paddies, the curving road winding into the distance, and the whipping sound of the wind, it was easy to block out all worries of the world. Although any accident would be instantly fatal, this was an experience I could not pass up.

I finally made it back to my hotel at around 7pm and took a much needed shower. I then headed off to dinner where I had Indonesian soup with a mystery meat (most likely dog, but it is not wise to advertise such things on a menu). I am currently enjoying a cup of hot kopi in the glow of dawn with Muslim prayers being broadcast throughout the city. Days like this remind me why I am willing to endure such tiring hardships.

** NOTE: The link to the video may take about 7 minutes to download. I include it because I think it is worth the wait. iTunes is necessary to see the video, or you may use QuickTime Media Player - both are free downloads on the web. As always, feel free to email me if you have any difficulties**

February 20, 2007

Pekanbaru (SUMATRA)

The Tiring Side of Travel, More Toilets, and Life Below the Equator

Singapore to Bukittinggi Photo Gallery

As should be obvious from the title, today was full of laborious traveling. I started with a 7am departure from Batam on another aging boat - the picture of the boat's only bathroom [shown below] says it all. The ride lasted six hours as I slowly made my way into inner Sumatra via rivers and canals. The brackish river water and jungle habitation made for good viewing initially, but the view was relatively static throughout the trip. Nevertheless, I blocked out the sounds of Bruce Lee movies and took the opportunity to catch up on sleep.

The boat docked at around 2:00 in the afternoon, and as I stepped off the boat it dawned on me how easy it is to get off track. There are no signs, no people advising you in English, no information desks or helping hands, nor are there any of the other everyday pieces of assistance we take for granted in modern society. If information gets lost because of communication difficulties I could easily lose an entire day trying to figure out what happened (and then finding my way back).

Other than a lone house 50 meters away, there were no signs of life near the dock - and certainly not a bustling city. I did my best to mingle with the native Indonesians who were also de-boarding so I could get an idea of what to do next, and I eventually found my way onto a bus that appeared destined for Pekanbaru. I was somewhat apprehensive about climbing aboard, but it wasn't like my situation would get any better on its own. "Just put the ball in play", I thought, "and everything else will work itself out."

The bus was destined for Pekanbaru after all, but it took a painful three hours to get there. It was a case of shake-rattle-and-roll as the rickety bus tumbled its way around motorcycles and logging trucks to make up for lost time. Fortunately, the view of the countryside was worth every penny because I was seeing the real face of Sumatra. The landscape had an island feel about it, but the shacks and filth along the side of the road reminded me why Sumatra is still a far-cry from a tourism hot spot.

Another highlight from the bus ride was the friendliness shown to me by the locals. The other passengers on the bus tried out the few English phrases they knew, and when we stopped for a bathroom break I was offered food, drinks, and cigarettes. The "bathroom break" included a visit to the mini-dock [shown at center], and I began wondering about the fish for sale at the stall out front.

I eventually arrived in Pekanbaru, but it was obvious that the less time spent here the better (unless one is interested in oil refineries). I booked a ticket to Bukittinggi, and boarded the bus just after 7pm.

The bus ride was cramped with people, there were no shocks for the bumpy roads, and all the men were smoking cigarettes in the confined area. Desperate for fresh air, I braved the rain as best I could and cracked my window slightly open. I began getting the "get me out of here" feeling, but there is nothing that can be done. I believe it was General Patton who once remarked, "When you are going through hell, it is best to keep going." This is the one aspect of traveling I always try to stress with people who think it is nothing but a joyride: vacationing is one thing, traveling is another.

The over-night bus ride did not get any better: it went from a five hour jaunt to an eight hour test of endurance. A torrential downpour started somewhere before midnight, and the roof of the bus sprung a steady stream of water that sprayed both me and the man sitting next to me. I was at the point where I could do nothing but smile and sigh, "Figures!", but it kept me from getting even a wink of sleep. Matters got more complicated when our bus broke down at around 1am. We were stuck on the shoulder of the road with a sheer drop to our left, and with the rain still dripping on me I began wondering if this was becoming some kind of a sick joke.

After about an hour of waiting in misery, a passing bus stopped and took some of us aboard. Thankfully, there were no leaks on this bus, but I was still worried I would miss my stop and so I kept myself awake for the remaining three hour leg.

I arrived at a bus station in the outskirts of Bukittinggi at 4am in the morning, and it was a welcome relief to finally be done with heavy traveling. Adding to my sense of arrival was the live broadcast of the Champions League match between Real Madrid and Bayern Munich that was being shown on a small television in an adjacent restaurant. I cheered alongside a rowdy group of Indonesians as Real Madrid edged out a 3-2 victory for the first leg. After the match ended I had to wait for the morning buses to begin their rounds so I could continue into the city and find a hostel. While waiting, I chatted with other Indonesians and I have begun picking up some of the essentials of the Indonesian language.

Since leaving my dormitory 36 hours ago, I have ridden on seven different buses, two trains, three taxis, and two boats. Some would say this is what happens when you don't book a flight or charter a bus, but looking back I wouldn't change a thing. No tour book or brochure can ever duplicate the things I saw, and for me that is one of the most rewarding parts of a good adventure - the fact that it is unique. After tallying up my financial expenses, I don't think I saved all that much money compared to a direct flight, but my route was never about the money.

February 19, 2007

Pulau Batam (INDONESIA)

Start of the Journey: Singapore to Pulau Batam (Indonesia)

I woke up at 5:30 this morning, and stumbled my way to the dormitory showers. To my dismay, the hot water heaters had not turned on yet, and I was hardly in the mood for a frigid shower. This was not how I wanted to start off my trip, especially considering I hardly managed more than five hours of sleep over the past few days. Rather than rushing myself for the 6am bus, I decided to postpone leaving and catch up on some much needed rest.

After recharging my batteries and taking care of a variety of academic issues I began fearing that I would continue finding reasons to postpone the trip. It is better to put the ball in play, I decided, and trust in my ability to cope with whatever difficulties arise. With this thought in mind I decided to catch the last boat out of Singapore.

I departed Singapore Harbor at 10pm with a skeleton crew for the late night boat ride. Strangely enough, leaving the lights of Singapore behind as the boat headed out to sea reminded me why I enjoy traveling by land (or water) rather than flying - the journey is half the fun. Going from airport to airport, basically teleporting one's self to a new world, detracts from the essence of seeing new things.

I did not make it all the way to the Indonesian mainland, but instead had to settle for an Indonesian island called Pulau Batam. The island is used by a variety of industrial giants seeking cheap labor from Indonesia, so there wasn't much to see - not that it mattered since I arrived so late.

Without a reservation, or even planning on ending up here, I was thankful to find a dormitory for the night. Although it was no more than a cinder block room with a bathroom/shower combination, I was through Indonesian immigration and could continue my journey first thing in the morning.

February 12, 2007

SINGAPORE

Visit to the Doctor

Just a quick update today. I visited the doctor this morning and wasn't surprised to hear both legs were infected; I am now on antibiotics. I can already hear the "I told you so!" from my little sister who thinks she is a walking Gray's Anatomy. Making matters worse, the nurses got their kicks from watching my facial contortions as they cleaned my cuts with pure acid - they termed it "the silent scream." Funny stuff all around, ladies...

I have started taking anti-malaria pills in preparation for my Indonesia backpacking trip, and I will have a typhoid shot this Thursday. I guess this means I am going to Indonesia after all, but there is still a lot of planning that needs to be done.

February 11, 2007

SINGAPORE

The Societal and Cultural Approach of Singapore

While I should have been studying for tomorrow's Materials Science examination, I spent the morning conducting an interview with a journalist from NTU’s school newspaper. The topic was why Westerns are eager to speak up in classroom environments while Asians (particularly the Chinese) are more inclined to remain quiet.

This is a subject I have explored in the past (Hong Kong), but Singapore is a unique place that deserves an analysis of its own. Rather than focusing on the academic aspect of Singapore I will break down the cultural and societal aspects of the country as I believe it is more insightful.

To begin with, one must understand that Singapore is the most ordered society on earth. The reason is simple: Singapore is also the most designed country on earth. The government has orchestrated the way they want everything to run, and the populace is left to decide which role they wish to fulfill. As for individuality and breaking from the norm, it is obvious that a well-oiled machine only works when each part is functioning as it was designed to. I have often felt like Singapore is the nation equivalent of a highly evolved gated community where the society has been expertly planned to be self-sufficient.

This is not to say that the average person is raised as a mindless drone incapable of independent thought because this is far from the case. The people are highly intelligent, highly perceptive, and highly motivated. However, the opportunities are limited and there is a strong set of boundary conditions that inhibit maneuverability.

When I talk about boundary conditions and maneuverability here is what I mean: Singapore is great at everything it does, but it is likewise restricted by the need to be great at everything it does. One is not encouraged to break from the norm or even take risks. It is deemed wiser to rely on the safe bet and to do it better than the competition.

None of this is meant as criticism toward the country because the growth, sustainability, and lifestyle are a lesson for us all - especially considering the scarce resources and logistical hindrances. However, Singapore may find itself constantly following industry rather than using its enormous talents to lead industry.

Simply speaking, Singapore may do things better than everyone else, but they will rarely do it first.

**I hope I do not receive too many angry emails from my Singaporean friends (I may change my contact email to avoid nasty viruses), but this has been my impression thus far. And for the record, I really am in love with everything Singapore.**

February 10, 2007

SINGAPORE

NTU International Games: Football

Football Injuries Photo Gallery

First, an update on the NTU International Games where I am playing for the Union football team. We edged out Indonesia on Friday night, but it was an unnecessarily heated affair. I do not know if the Malaysian referees were good friends with the Indonesian players or if they were simply repaying us for pounding their team last week, but the officiating was horribly lop-sided. We were up 3-0 for most of the match, but midway through the second half the referee began awarding free kicks and penalties all over the place (which is how they got their two goals). Tempers were flaring as there was nothing to stop the injustice until we put the game out of reach with the fourth goal. 4-2 to the Union, and we were off to the semi-finals.

We played valiantly against the top-seeded Chinese team this afternoon with the oppressive heat doing nothing to support our depleted squad. We had only one substitute for the match, and to be perfectly frank, I would have rather left him on the sidelines than bring him out.

The game did not take long to pick up in intensity as we were stuck with the same referee from the night before. His officiating was even worse in this match, and I received the first yellow card of the tournament for telling the referee what I thought of him (in words I won't dare repeat on this website). I suppose it is a regression for me to do such things, but I was ready to drop the referee and then go after his assistants for the stunt they were trying to pull.

Despite both teams kicking and clawing at one another (it was really getting out of control at times) the match ended at a 0-0 draw at the end of regulation. I do not know how we marched back on the field for the 20 minutes of extra time because it was our fourth game in six days and all of us were ready to drop dead. Somehow we managed and by this point we had a huge fan base as neutral fans began taking the side of the underdog.

I hesitate writing about the finale because it could not have been scripted any worse: we lost in the final minute of the final half of extra time. After everything we had been through (we were by far the tournament's dark horse) it was the most demoralizing way to lose. Nevertheless, I will remember the tournament for the way we overcame all odds to make it as far as we did and how we played with the kind of heart other teams will never have.

As for my injuries and sore muscles (an entire photo gallery is now dedicated to them), I am afraid I will not be walking for the next week. Or two. The only thing worse than showering with open flesh wounds is having my skin attached to the sheets when I wake up in the morning.

Pray for me.

Money also helps.

February 8, 2007

SINGAPORE

 Haw Par Villa and Little India

Haw Par Villa Photo Gallery

Little India Photo Gallery

The flavor of the day was Singaporean tourism. I started off before lunch by meeting a friend, Jelynn, at the Buona Vista MRT station.

I met Jelynn one week ago when I was asking around for directions near Orchard Road. She was kind enough to help me out, and after we talked for a bit she said she was studying in Singapore's tourism industry. I couldn’t resist asking if she would mind showing me around Singapore as a bit of training. She agreed, and here we are one week later.

We took a bus to a sort of fantasy figurine land called Har Par Villa (think: Asia’s equivalent of frozen Disney World characters). I still do not know what the point of the park was, but it was a nice place to walk around and amuse ourselves with the various figurines on display. The laughing Buddha, the “starved Buddha”, and the under-sized Statue of Liberty are the ones that stick out the most in my mind.

Now that I think about it, I really have no idea what figures like the Statue of Liberty or the mother and baby were doing alongside Buddha and other famous Chinese cultural icons (although I did have a good laugh from the picture shown to the left). This park was what Steven King and Antonio Gaudi would produce if they put their minds together. And things only got weirder...

Another portion of the park featured the “Ten Parts of Hell.” I was curious what this would equate to so off we went. As we wandered the dark hallways examining the exhibits Jelynn began explaining the different torture techniques that befall the sinners in Chinese society. Given that one of the signs called for “organ extraction” for “filial disobedience”, I felt a sigh of relief that grounding is the worst I ever got. Thanks for that one, Mom.

Afterward we headed off to Harbourfront to eat at a Hong Kong restaurant Jelynn knew about. I made the mistake of ordering a spicy soup and subsequently cursed myself for only ordering scalding Chinese tea. More growing pains in Asia.

Later in the day I made my first trip to Little India. Unlike Chinatown, Little India is not designed as a tourist destination, but more as a place for Indians to buy the things they need. It had a very authentic feel to it that grew as we headed deeper into the district. It brought back fond memories of India, but a much more developed (and clean) version.

At the end of the day I stopped by Singapore's famous Bronze Buddha to give him a good rub on the belly for good luck. Afterward, it was a long ride back to NTU for a long night of studying. I have two examinations next week so the webpage may slow down some what between now and then.

I suppose the slow down will be a good thing as there are several big events coming up in the next few weeks. Firstly, Chinese New Year (a HUGE deal in Asia) will be next weekend. I will be going out with Hui Shi's family for the two day extravaganza and I will make sure this year is one to remember.

Also, I am in the process of planning a free-for-all excursion across four islands in Indonesia: Sumatra, Java, Bali, and Lombok. I will post more details in the coming week or so, but given that Jakarta (Indonesia's capital) is currently under 15 feet of water I should have plenty of stories to tell. I will remain extra cautious during this trip because of terrorist attacks (the Bali bombings alone killed 150+ a couple of years ago) and Indonesia's rampant riots (some of the world's most prolific).

February 6, 2007

SINGAPORE

Hooliganism Claims More Lives, NTU Olympic Games

What else is there to talk about on Mondays other than the weekend’s sporting events?

I will start with one of the more troubling events: the football riots in southern Italy that resulted in the death of an Italian police officer. An exploding smoke canister struck the officer in the head, and he subsequently died of a heart attack upon arriving at the hospital. The imagery and video of the rioting (found on youTube.com) are appalling to see in a country as developed as Italy. I would expect to find such fanaticism in under-developed and under-privileged parts of the world where the populace simply does not know any better. Only last week an Italian football director was kicked to death while trying to break up a fight between two teams after the match – and now this.

I went to a football match in Rome, Italy in 2005 to see two of the Serie A’s top clubs (Inter Milan v Roma) battle it out in the championship. The electric atmosphere in the build-up to the game was everything I had hoped for: there was smoke everywhere as well as derisive chanting toward the opposition. However, as the game progressed it was obvious how close the stadium was to erupting into chaos.

The rival fans had to be kept at opposite ends of the stadium with a full outfit of riot police separating them throughout the match. Despite the police presence and 15 foot walls, opposing fans were still hurling flares and other projectiles at one another. This was the same stadium in which a flare struck one of the world's best goalkeepers in the head earlier in the season (shown to the left).

I am thankful I grew up with American sporting events where maniacal violence is unheard of and children can safely attend games. Those who support the passion of “firms” (typical to England) or the outright hooliganism are every bit as guilty as those who partake in such events. I hope European football takes this issue seriously rather than waiting for more people to die or become crippled.

On to a brighter note...

I am competing in NTU’s International Olympic Games as part of the “Union” football team. We are a rag-tag bunch compared to the well-organized Southeast Asian teams, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. We won our first match against Malaysia, but lost later in the day to Vietnam. In fairness, we only met one another 30 minutes before kickoff and we had to recruit a group of volleyball players so we could field enough players. We will play our qualifying match this Friday against Indonesia.

The best part of joining the tournament has been the people I have met (although scoring goals was a very close second!) In particular, I have now become friends with several graduate students from both Kazakhstan and Iran. I have never had the chance to become close with people native to either country, and it is embarrassing when I think of how little I know about Kazakhstan. Most things I know about Iran are probably skewed by the bias of western media. I hate to sound cliché, but the students I have met are among the friendliest and most open of any I have met. It is unfortunate how easily politics (on both sides) gets in the way of what would otherwise be terrific social and economic growth opportunities.

A final few words...

The Colts won the Super Bowl. It should have been the Patriots.

February 2, 2007

SINGAPORE

Orchard Road, Singaporean Wedding

Wedding Dinner Photo Gallery

Today was another long day, but every bit as exciting the night before. After wrapping up my morning lectures, I caught the MRT to Singapore’s Immigration services to pick up my identity card and Singapore visa. Being the idiot that I am, I realized when I was boarding the metro that I forgot my passport. Rather than waste time heading back to my dormitory I figured I would give it a go and hope for the best.

As was to be expected, I was not able to pick up the visa without my passport. It was a bit of a bummer because it means I will have to come back another day, but these things happen. On the bright side, two of the attendants at the MRT information desk recognized me and called me over for a chat. I was fairly shocked they remembered me, but I had asked them how to find Jalan Besar Stadium on Monday and we had a great laugh over the build-up to the Singapore/Thailand match. When I told them I made the newspaper on Tuesday they couldn’t believe it, declaring Singaporeans “should not trust this scoundrel, he cheers for Thailand” (reference to my goading from Monday)!

I next headed over to the “lively heart of Singapore”, Orchard Road. This is the densest shopping district in Singapore with all kinds of people showing off their fashion and justifying their existence with mindless shopping. I would equate the district to what the world’s biggest shopping mall would look like if you removed the roof and built a meticulously kept roadway as the backbone. Obviously, I am not particularly keen on over-priced shopping districts, but I was meeting a friend and I accepted that this is a part of Singapore I must know.

We ate lunch at the Asian equivalent of McDonalds, Mos Burger. One difference in Singapore is everyone eats their burgers and sandwiches holding the wrapper rather than the sandwich. I quickly learned why as there was no bread for my prawn burger, but rather two compact pieces of rice (similar to what the rice from sushi would look like if it was shaped as a slice of bread).

For the next couple of hours I toured the shopping malls in search of a dress shirt for a wedding dinner I was attending later in the night. Beyond looking respectable, I don’t think it is all that important how one dresses – I would much rather spend the evening with interesting people than “eye candy.” However, wedding dinners are a big deal in Singapore, and this was to be an exclusive night at a chic restaurant.

The search for a shirt proved futile as we could not find anything better than what I already have. It is extremely difficult shopping for clothes in Asia because my body type is much different from Asian men. I am far broader and any shirts that fit my shoulders are huge at the waist. It was somewhat humiliating trying on clothes tailored to Singaporean men and seeing Sheryl try to suppress her laughter. This has only added fuel to my loathing of shopping centers and fashion lines.

I headed back to my hostel late in the afternoon to prepare for the wedding dinner. After transferring a couple times I arrived at Hui Shi’s house, the friend who invited me to the wedding. She looked terrific, and she was kind enough to iron my shirt (the first time it has seen daylight since being packed in my suitcase a month ago).

Rather than giving gifts to the bride and groom, it is custom to give a "red packet" that contains money (basically to cover the expenses for the night). I was very grateful to be invited because it meant that Hui Shi's parents gave an additional 80SD (55USD) for my place at the table.

We arrived at the restaurant, Legends, and spent about an hour chatting and people watching before food was served at the traditional time of 9pm. I was the only angmoh present, and as was remarked to me throughout the night “people keep stealing looks at you!” I cannot complain because I enjoyed winking at the young girls who would turn three shades of red as they ducked behind their parents for cover. One of the funnier things that continued throughout the night was that I received exemplary treatment from the waiters. They would clear my plate first, place my napkin on my lap, continuously refill my glass, and so forth - basically giving me VIP service. It was a great deal of fun goading Hui Shi because they would ask me if I would like wine and completely ignore her.

Dinner consisted of a ten course meal that was served along with Chinese tea, beer, and red wine. The food was terrific, and it was the first time I have tried the famous shark fin soup. It was every bit as good as I hoped, but I am worried about accumulating bad karma by eating shark. For any who may not know, I have a mortal fear of sharks that includes at least one nightmare a month. I do not know where the fear came from (Jaws or Florida shark attacks, perhaps) but I will keep an even closer eye out for the bastards next time I swim in the ocean.

February 1, 2007

SINGAPORE

Asean Football Championship: Singapore v Thailand

Singapore v Thailand Photo Gallery

Match Day has arrived.

After my marathon session of eight consecutive classes, I wearily headed for the bus stop to meet my waiting friends and leave for the match. We took the MRT to a hawker center and ate Indian food before entering the stadium. Although I cannot remember the Hindi name, I had a kind of Indian chicken quesadilla that I cannot recommend enough should you have the chance to eat Indian food in the near future.

By the time of kick-off there were 55,000 screaming Singapore fans and a small contingent of police protected Thai fans. We had a friend who saved us front row seats (there was open seating at the stadium) and we took up three rows for our group of twenty. Singapore dominated the match from the outset with five Thai players being carried off on a stretcher in the first half alone. It was clear that the Singapore players knew what a big occasion this match was (it was the last to be played at the National Stadium before being torn down and rebuilt) and they had the Thais on their heels. 

The football itself was far from the best in the world. There were many points where I felt confident that if I was a Singaporean national I could have stepped onto the pitch. The problem is not their skills but their size - for most Asian players the knee is the thickest part of the leg. Additionally, they do not have any of the natural upper body strength that is common to people of Germanic descent.

Singapore took the lead midway through the first half amid endless cheers of “Ole! Ole! Ole-ole-ole, Ole, Ole!” However, Thailand tied the match up in the second half and the crowd was stunned. The 700 or so Thai fans could be heard from across the stadium proudly cheering “Thailand! Thailand! Thailand!”

Such uncertainty with the match led to a severe increase in the harassment toward the Thai players. Whereas the first half was full of encouragement for Singapore, the second half was full of excessive jeering. The nature of Singapore with its dozens of integrated races results in a subtle discrimination, but I was still surprised to hear things like, “Go back to clean the toilets!” and “How’d the Thais get into Singapore?” and so forth. I know for a fact this kind of jeering goes on everywhere (and indeed it is often much uglier), but it was disappointing to hear nonetheless. 

At around the 80^th minute there was the kind of drama one would only find in Southeast Asia – the Thai team walked off the field in protest and took the ball with them! A penalty was awarded when a Singapore player was pulled down, and although the call was very harsh toward Thailand, I have never heard of a professional team refusing to play as a result. The standoff lasted twenty uncertain minutes as the Thais simply refused to finish the game. It was very humorous for me as an outsider, but this event did nothing to pacify the tension in the stadium.

The Thais eventually retook the field only to be immediately punished as Singapore took advantage of their penalty and scored a goal. With only ten minutes to play, the stadium erupted in cheers. Singapore hung onto their lead for the rest of the match, and they left the stadium as winners. However, I cannot help feeling that between the injustice of the penalty and the crude jeers of the fans something more important than winning was lost.