May 28, 2007

Beijing (CHINA)

Visiting Tsinghua University and Meeting Fellow REU Students

I am at the point where I feel guilty sleeping past 8am, but today I decided to be audacious and didn't start my day off until 9:00 - my  body simply cannot get enough rest these days. For breakfast, I grabbed a curry baozi (shown to right) from a street vendor, and stopped in a quickie mart for a bottle of orange juice. Every time I visit China I force myself to make a conscious effort to get enough vitamins and minerals, and orange juice is the best-tasting method.

I spent the next couple hours touring Beijing's few remaining hutong districts (traditional Beijing homes that are now protected to preserve the country's rapidly vanishing culture). Afterward, it was back to Tsinghua University where Max served as my campus-guide. One of the first things we decided to do was visit the newly constructed lecture halls and look in on a few classes.

Funnily enough, as we left the building I ran into a friend I made while studying in Hong Kong! I hadn't seen or heard from him in nearly a year so it was a remarkable coincidence.

Who was it that said "lightning never strikes twice"?

Well, only fifteen minutes later I heard a bike come screeching to a halt as Jessie, another friend of mine, ran over to chat. She was off to a laboratory and couldn't join us for lunch, but we couldn't believe our good fortunate in running into each other. I promised to return at the end of the summer so we can have a proper chat, and I could not help smiling at having such amazing friends.

Max and I ate lunch at one of the campus cafeterias, but the food was somewhat disappointing (as university food so often is). He then continued showing me around campus, including his dormitory - which is a room divided amongst four people - and the campus library. I found the library particularly interesting because the only economics and government books I could find dealt with socialism and communism. The few novels that were on display had publication dates from the 1950s, and they had the wear-worn look to prove it.

By 4pm I was in a taxi with all my bags heading for the hotel where I would rendezvous with the other REU students. The group of 14 students spent several days getting to know one another in New York, so I am well behind the curve. Fortunately, they are a great bunch of people who took the time to find out information about me and it was like we never missed a beat.

After settling into the hotel room we went out for a group dinner at a local restaurant. There were a couple vegetarians at my table, which is always an interesting experience when trying to order food in Chinese. I was too worn out to worry about such things, and when I finally hit the bed after at 11:00pm I quickly passed out.

May 27, 2007

Beijing (CHINA)

Singapore --> Bangkok --> Beijing, and Dinner with a Great Friend

Less than 12 hours after landing in Singapore and I was riding in the back seat of Hui Shi's Audi A6 heading for Singapore's Changgi airport. Funnily enough, I never got to see the sun on this return to Singapore - I landed at 7pm yesterday and reached the airport at 6:30am this morning. I felt bad for Hui Shi and her parents because all they got out of my stay was a bottle of wine and a free breakfast at the airport.

Yesterday, Hui Shi's parents were kind enough to pick me up from the airport and take me out for dinner. Hui Shi was working at a large fish tank convention (sounds silly, but it was an international event), so she didn't get home until after 10pm. We had a lot of catching up to do as she recently graduated from the prestigious National University of Singapore (NUS) with a degree in Mathematics, and it is time for her to sort out her career. We stayed awake until after 2am while I tried to talk her into a career in banking, but from the sound of it she will take another few years to realize my advice is perfect...

As for my flights today, I had a quick layover in Bangkok, Thailand, but I was too tired to do anything than walk directly to my terminal. The one thing I did notice en route were all the advertisements of the Thai King. For any who may not know, this is the same king who outlawed youTube.com because of video disrespecting him, and a Swiss man was recently imprisoned for 20 years after spray-painting graffiti over one of the king's pictures.

I landed in Beijing in the late afternoon and hopped in a taxi to a small hotel. The lodging wasn't as cheap as the dormitories I am accustomed to, but I have too much luggage to risk staying with other people. Besides, tomorrow afternoon the other 14 REU students will arrive from the United States and my summer REU session will begin.

After dropping off my bags and taking a quick shower, I called a friend who studies at Tsinghua University (China's MIT equivalent) and we agreed to meet for dinner. I opted to take public transport to reach Tsinghua's campus, so I was forced to ask for directions the entire way. I had to switching trains several times and do a great deal of walking as Beijing is a sprawled out city. The one bit of good news is the Beijing public transport system has improved dramatically since last summer (from 2 metro lines to 5) as part of Beijing's remarkable push to be ready for the 2008 Olympics. And trust me, when the Chinese set their minds on accomplishing something it is a good bet they will succeed!

After an hour and a half I finally met Chen Xu (English name, Max) outside the train station. He treated me to dinner at a fancy Yunnan restaurant, and as is Chinese custom we ordered enough food for an entire army. I tried a new dish with dinner which was basically rice, meat, and herbs masterfully cooked inside a bamboo shoot.

It was great seeing Max again, and we had a lot of catching up to do. He is literally one of Tsinghua's top students, which basically means he is the best China has to offer! Not only that, but the majority of China's elite CCP members are former Tsinghua students - including current present President Hu Jintao who studied Civil Engineering at Tsinghua. I would not be surprised if Max follows in similar footsteps because he has the work ethic, brains, and motivation to accomplish great things.

Unfortunately, Chinese universities do not end for another month, and Max will be doing an internship in Mongolia for the summer. We agreed to meet tomorrow for lunch so he could show me around Tsinghua campus, and he will also visit Dalian after his internship ends at the end of the summer.

I caught the last train back into downtown Beijing, and after another hour and half of traveling I finally settled into bed for the night.

I could really use a vacation.

May 24, 2007

Puerto Galera (PHILIPPINES)

Relaxing in the Philippines, a Reptile Farm, and Filipino Beauties

I spent the last few days relaxing on the Filipino beaches and chatting with locals. The beaches have been absolutely deserted and the atmosphere is perfect. I have needed this mini-vacation for quite some time so please excuse me for taking a few days off from any adventures. Suffice to say my life has consisted of cold San Miguel beer, meat on a stick, fresh fish flavored to perfection, swimming in crystal clear waters, pristine sunrises and sunsets, and plenty of good reading under the sun.

The only excitement worth mentioning  is that I visited a reptile farm used by several German scientists - the highlight of which was the chamber of snakes. It was an entire room containing the world's deadliest snakes, including: a king cobra, a black mamba, a green mamba, spitting cobras, vipers, diamondbacks, boa constrictors, and coral snakes. The spitting cobras scared me the most because they hissed and would randomly strike in my direction. It may not sound so bad, but when they strike from the corner of your eye it can really get your heart pumping. Add in the fact that there was only wire separating us, and you can understand why I had to be careful to protect my eyes and not get too close.

Otherwise, I befriended the owner of a local pharmacy, and both she and the girls that work with her have shown me around the island. The locals have used me as a source of gossip - the woman is very popular among the single men along White Beach, but she has been rejecting their advances for two years now. Perhaps the picture below shows why they are so angry they can't date her...

May 21, 2007

Puerto Galera (PHILIPPINES)

My First Diving Experience

I had to meet my English dive instructor, Mike, for diving lessons at 6:30am this morning. His wife, a stunning Filipino woman, made us a full breakfast while we went over the schedule for the diving lessons. Rather than pay USD$300, Mike would allow me to do an "introduction to diving" for only USD $50, but which included an actual 18 meter dive later in the day.

There was an Irish man, Steven, who was also doing this course and we watched videos for a couple hours before heading off in the boat to learn the basics of diving. I caught on very quickly once we were in the water, and never needed to resurface through all the trials (clearing my mask, losing my oxygen supply, and so on). I was beginning to understand the thrill people talk about when they describe the wonders of breathing underwater!

After Mike felt sufficiently confident in our abilities (Steven was having a tough time breathing underwater), we climbed aboard the boat and headed to a dive site. The water was becoming choppy, so we found a small inlet along the coast. I was eager to get back in the water and complete the 18 meter dive, so I leaned back over the side of the boat and confidently immersed myself in a watery paradise.

I have seen plenty of videos and heard endless accounts about how "it is a whole other world below the ocean's surface", but I never appreciated what this meant until I experienced it for myself. More importantly, I have always been terrified of sharks, but now I wanted nothing more than to swim with one!

After adjusting my air tanks so I was neutrally buoyant I began slowly descending down the buoy chain. Mike started leading me toward the reef, but I was having a hard time clearing my left ear. The ear has always caused me problems when flying, and I was suffering from a small cold that only exasperated matters. I have been warned many times about the dangers of "forcing it", so I used my better judgment and took my time in descending. Eventually, I made it to the ocean floor and followed Mike through the reef. It was only he and I diving because Steven was having a tough time with the mental aspect of breathing underwater. I saw plenty of colorful fish, sublime reef formations, a sea turtle (which doesn't seem amazing until you actually see one in the water), and enormous pink clams. One of them snapped at me when I swam for a close look, but I pulled away just before it jerked shut.

My oxygen supply surprised Mike as I was consciously maintaining normal breathing habits, so I had roughly 50 minutes of underwater diving. When we climbed back aboard the boat I couldn't stop raving about what a great time diving is. I imagine Mike hears this all the time, but he wouldn't be teaching if the thrill ever got old.

We began heading back to White Beach, but the ocean waters were choppy. We were forced to dock in another small inlet because the danger of flipping was becoming quite serious (I had video but I lost everything when my computer crashed). Rather than wait around all day in the boat, I waded ashore and went into the town center to find an ATM. As always, all ATMs were "out of service" and I was forced to use a Western Union service that charged me 6% on the money I withdrew. It was highway robbery, but I had to pay Mike and was left with little choice.

Between my ear problems and the high cost of diving I decided to discontinue the course until I have more money.

But take it from me: diving is worth every penny!

May 20, 2007

Puerto Galera (PHILIPPINES)

A Philippine Paradise

Yesterday afternoon I bought a bus ticket to the long-distance boat terminal, so by 7am this morning I had already checked out of my room, eaten breakfast, and walked across town to the bus terminal. Seemingly no matter how hard I try I cannot get away from all the early mornings (I promise backpacking is anything but a vacation). The only positive is that the sun rises at 5:20 each morning and the country comes to life shortly after.

I was happy to be leaving Manila because the poverty is tough to see. The train stations are littered with bloated children and the streets are crowded with people desperate to make money any way they can. It is a shame because Philippinos are easy going and friendly, but with so many people in the country (and with so many who flock to Manila) there aren't enough facilities to handle everyone. Thus rises the dark side of the city.

By noon I reached the boat terminal, and after asking around for the best beaches I was directed to a boat destined for White Beach, near Puerto Galera. The boats were all rigged with bamboo stabilizers, but there is no safety when typhoon season hits, and most travel services shut down. Fortunately, I am a couple months ahead and don't have to worry about braving some of the world's most violent storms.

The boat pulled onto White Beach  later in the afternoon (from here on out I can tell time doesn't matter), and I searched around before settling on a small bungalow 50m inland. Dorms don't exist here, but I don't mind because the price of a nice chalet is every bit as cheap - especially considering I am staying over the course of several days outside the peak weekend time.

After dropping off my bags and taking a cold shower I set off to explore the beach. It was still Sunday so there were hordes of weekenders from Manila swarming the beaches and cafes. It wasn't the deserted Philippine beach I had imagined, but hour-by-hour the beach cleared out as people caught boats back to the mainland.

I came across a small cafe perched atop a rocky outset that advertised diving lessons. This is something I have been interested in pursuing for two reasons: 1) everyone I have met in Southeast Asia has raved about the joys of diving, and 2) I want to overcome my fear of sharks. So, I talked with the dive master and agreed to begin my diving lessons the following morning. The price is incredibly cheap (by Western diving standards), but still a lot for a backpacker like myself, so I arranged to begin with an introductory dive to make sure this is what I want. We would begin the following morning at - you guessed it - 7am.

I simply cannot escape these mornings.

Fortunately, I cannot escape beautiful sunsets, either...

May 19, 2007

Manila (PHILIPPINES)

Exploring Manila: Jeepneys, Police Presence, the National Park, and Intramuros

I was only entitled to a twelve hour stay at the motel, so by 8am I was out the door in search of public transport to the more "traveler friendly" part of Manila. I passed a newspaper stand with a particular headline catching my eye: "15 dead as explosion rocks train station."

The country is in the process of counting votes from last weekend's elections - during which time 101 people were killed in mass rioting - and every store in Manila is protected by at least one security guard. I actually felt quite safe because it seemed like every 5th person was an armed officer on the streets. At more popular places like McDonalds, 7-11, hotels, and train stations the police actually wield shotguns and M-16 carbines. I would have tried snapping a few pictures, but I don't think safety is an issue that is taken lightly. And rightly so.

After clearing a stiff security check at the train station, I found my way onto Manila's Light Rail Transit. I was crammed in with the rest of the morning commuters, but a local directed me off at the right stop. After a bit of a walk I came across a string of cheap lodging where I checked into the worst room I could find because it was the cheapest and I don't plan on staying in Manila for more than a night.

Afterward, I was desperate for a cup of coffee (it has been a wearying 15 hours since I landed), and I also took advantage of the wi-fi to post a few updates and send off emails. To all those who responded to my one-year anniversary email, thank you for taking the time to write. There were a few suggestions I will work on in the coming weeks and some additions will be made to the webpage - particularly, an answer to the why question. It is a big topic, so I will take my time in properly formulating a response.

I set off on a walking tour of the historical part of Manila. Along the waterfront was the US Embassy, and similar to when I was concerned over my safety in Indonesia I tried stopping in to register. Unfortunately, the embassy was closed for the weekend, and pictures were forbidden for safety reasons. Nevertheless I felt a strong sense of pride looking at the United States of America wording at the marble entrance.

I next passed through the national park of Manila where structures like the National Library and National Monument are located, along with a collection of war memorials. Remember: an independent Philippines is a relatively new development. For the past several hundred years the country has endured the brutal  conquistadores of Spain, the colony builders from America, the Japanese occupation, and it served as the battle ground for some of WWII's bloodiest battles - 100,000 civilians died in the liberation of Manila alone. In more recent years there has been a mini-civil war raging in the Southern Philippines with widespread kidnappings, modern pirates (not a joke), and of course assassinations.

In the park, I passed a group of men playing chess and a variant of checkers, but I opted out of playing because money invariably changes hands at the end of every game. This isn't the kind of stuff I want to get caught up in, so instead I watched on chatting about baseball: from where Joe Torre's future lies to whether Big Poppy's heart will hold out.

American influence is huge in the Philippines.

In the afternoon I reached the oldest part of Manila: a walled community called Intramuros, which was built by the Spanish hundreds of years ago. I was surprised to see a golf course skirting the city's walls, but such inconsistencies are common in many Asian cities - be it glaring wealth in the face of dire poverty, architectural masterpieces surrounded by expansive shanty towns, or historical integrity playing second fiddle to outright capitalism.

Enough preaching: I happily take the good with the bad and accept each place as it is.

I passed the oldest church in the Philippines, and I was lucky enough to observe a traditional Catholic wedding in progress. The women were all wearing soft pink dresses while the men wore airy cream shirts or tuxedos, but no one seemed to mind me watching as long as I was discreet about it. The most touching moment came at the end when the bride and groom released two doves in union and all the women through flowers on the bride and groom.

I continued on through Intramuros and I passed the oldest stone church in the Philippines (also built by the Spanish). It was interesting to read the five prior churches built on this location were all destroyed - either by fire or earthquake - but they kept rebuilding and, presumably, improving upon earlier designs. The final product towers over the surrounding town.

At the far end of the walled city was the old Spanish fort where all important dignitaries lived. Despite being bombarded by the Americans during the liberation of the Philippines, there was still much to be seen.

The highlight of the fort were all the exhibits designated to the national hero of the Philippines, Rizal, who was a Renaissance man (doctor, poet, writer, fencer, and he spoke several languages) with an unwavering love of his country. The Spanish hanged him for his writings about the unjust nature of the Catholic Church and the brutal Spanish rulers.

I passed a few boys in the park who were throwing their shoes into the branches of a tree, hoping to knock loose fruits. Here is the video (if anyone knows how to rotate the video I would appreciate the help):

For dinner I searched out "The Hobbit" restaurant, which was recommended by Allen back at the KK airport. Although the food was nothing to write home about, the staff were a great deal of fun and the atmosphere was easy going. How often do you come across a restaurant where everyone is "vertically challenged" (I'm not sure what the politically correct term is because such rules apply mostly in Western countries).

May 18, 2007

Manila (PHILIPPINES)

A Rough Landing in Manila

A little after two o'clock in the afternoon I boarded a plane for the Philippines and my adventure in Borneo came to an end.

However, even my time at the airport wasn't without incident - I ran into the Singaporean couple, Allen and Irene, who I met the morning I climbed Mount Kinabalu. Their flight back to the mainland was delayed several hours, which was a great turn of luck (for me, at least) because it gave us the chance to chat once more. They kindly invited me over for a barbeque the night I return to Singapore.

I hit the Philippine tarmac (a little too literally) at 5pm, and after an hour of waiting around I boarded a two hour bus ride for Manila. I was in a bit of a bind because the airport ATM was "out of service" and I had to spend the few Filipino dollars I had on the bus ride. Making matters worse, by the time I arrived in Manila it was dark out and the streets were swarming with a shady crowd. This is the worst way to arrive in a big city - broke, lost, without any bookings, and being tugged in every direction by "ladies of the night" - so I found the nearest accommodation possible. It turned out to be a place called Winston's, which was an hourly motel designed for one activity. I was beyond caring about such things and I simply holed myself away behind paper-thin walls and waited out the morning.

This was hardly the start I was expecting for the Philippines, but on the bright side things can only get better from here.

May 17, 2007

Kota Kinabalu (BORNEO)

Final Day in KK: Bamboo Trampoline and Dinner with Friends

It took two days to hit me, but my legs are in bad shape after climbing Mount Kinabalu. When I walk down stairs my body feels like a strewn-together collection of wooden stilts, and I try to keep my body weight over the railing. Nevertheless, today is my last full day in Kota Kinabalu so I wanted to make the most of it.

I bought a couple CDs from a local shopping complex, and then I stopped in for a chat with the girls at Kinabalu's Park Office. Marianna, the girl whose picture is shown in yesterday's post, actually got a promotion yesterday and is now working for the Malaysian Health Administration. We were planning to meet for lunch, but since her new office is too far away I settled for a quick bite to eat an Indian cafe.

Afterward, I caught a bus to KK's official museum, which is somewhat out of the way and fairly unfrequented. It is a shame because there were interesting artifacts on display and an impressive collection of life-size longhouses in the rear. Most interesting in my mind were the WWII exhibits, which documented several of the atrocities the Japanese committed on Allied soldiers and the indigenous people of Borneo. Included were the death marches the Aussie told me about yesterday.

While wandering the paths behind the museum I crossed a wooden rope bridge that was more dangerous than it looks - there were broken planks that nobody has bothered fixing.

The real treat came when I reached the collection of longhouses. Most of the building styles were fairly consistent - some tribes were more militaristic while others were more communal - but one longhouse featured a trampoline made of bamboo.

There was a group of 10 students trying to reach a wooden cross hanging from the ceiling so I decided to join them on the trampoline. Unlike a traditional trampoline that cushions your return, the tightly bound bamboo made the landings hard - particularly if you are the unlucky person who comes down when the board is moving upward. I probably shouldn't have joined in considering how painful it was, but I have a feeling it will be quite some time before I find another bamboo trampoline.

I tried catching a bus back to KK from the museum, but I foolishly hopped on the same bus I took to get out there (figuring it would complete a loop). After 10 minutes of driving in the wrong direction I sheepishly realized I was going to end up in another city. I hopped off the bus, walked in the opposite direction, and eventually hailed down another public bus that eventually took me back to KK.

Later in the day I received an email from Mick, the Brit I met with the Penan Tribe. He, Roger, and their wives were staying in KK, and we arranged to meet up for dinner as we would soon shoot off in different directions.

Before any of the night's fun began he gave me a good bollocking for my borderline negligence in climbing Kinabalu - he was once on a climb in Mexico when a man suffered from AMS-inflicted blindness -  but I could tell he was also pleased to know all Americans are not pansies.

We ate dinner at a waterside cafe that served local food, but as Roger rightly pointed out the candles were intended to feign class and charge a few extra ringgit. Funnily enough, neither the cafe itself nor the Shamrock Irish Pub next door sold alcohol, so we had rounds of Tiger delivered from several shops down.

Tomorrow afternoon I fly to Manila for a nine day stay.

May 16, 2007

Kota Kinabalu (BORNEO)

Living Like a Local in Kota Kinabalu

At 8am this morning I left my hostel with Arney, one of the women who works at North Borneo Backpacker's Hostel, with a mission to teach her how to swim on a local island. At the ferry terminal we bought a couple tickets to Manukan, grabbed some food from a local shop, and set off in a small 6m boat. The water was choppy and we were soaking wet by the time we arrived at the island, but the day was as perfect as ever and I hardly minded. I could tell Arney was having a tougher time because her knuckles were white against the railing; she is terrified of the water.

But that is what I was hoping to fix. In my mind, there is nothing to fear from the water itself - it is all the damn creatures lurking below the surface that cause problems.

The island was deserted with the sole exception of a few entrepreneurial restaurants and shops renting beach gear, but there were five or so other groups who came to enjoy the weather and a nice swim in what is heralded as shark-free waters - not that I would ever trust such promises.

Despite coming all the way out to Manukan Island, Arney wanted nothing to do with the water. This didn't stop me from running in for a dive, but I had to be careful because there was coral within 15m of shore. I really should have rented a mask and snorkel, but since I didn't feel like paying the extortionist prices I probably took a year away from the lifespan of my eyesight by keeping my eyes open underwater.

There was a buoy floating a good 50 meters offshore, and since I wasn't getting anywhere with convincing Arney to swim I decided to go for it. I swam over to a Japanese man snorkeling near the shore (with a life jacket on, mind you) and recruited him to come along with me. I figured if a shark did happen along I could swim faster than Naka and I wasn't hindered by an awkward life vest - it makes you a bit of a sitting duck, if you ask me.

With his underwater camera tied around his neck and his wife silently observing from shore we fought strong sideward currents to reach the buoy. I would be lying if I said I wasn't concerned with "the damn lurking creatures" I mentioned earlier, but I did manage to swim down for a closer look at the fish and coral. At the very least a mask would have been a godsend. Fortunately, the Japanese man had an underwater camera that he used to snap pictures from the surface, and coupled with my blurry vision I was able to piece together a picturesque reality.

When we swam back to shore I began chatting with an Australian man who came to Borneo to re-trace a death march the Japanese forced on Australian and British troops during WWII. I didn't really know how to respond  when he told me this because I just finished swimming with a Japanese man. I imagine anyone who recently finished reliving a 5-day death march inflicted by the Japanese would not be keen on the "bonding experience" I just took part in.

After a couple hours of swimming about we headed to the other side of the island for lunch, and by 1pm we caught a ferry back to Kota Kinabalu - just before the rain hit.

I holed myself up in a small cafe that offered wi-fi and tolerated the high price of coffee because it guaranteed me several hours of uninterrupted internet access.

I met up with the Canadian-born Cambridge graduate Joy for a dinner at a local Indian restaurant that was recommended by several locals. We each had a layout of five vegetables and white rice served on a banana leaf, along with a curried vegetable roti (crisp, flat bread stuffed with veggies), and masala chicken. After India, there aren't many foods I still find spicy, but a cold bottle of Carslberg is still a good idea.

Three hours blew by while Joy and I chatted, but then I remembered I was going out with several of the girls I met at Kinabalu Park HQ for a birthday celebration. My mobile phone showed seven missed calls and four new messages, so I quickly threw on a pair of jeans and t-shirt before getting picked up. We drove to Island Bar in the neighboring city of Bandusan where we met a group of 25-30 people. All of the music was western - some day I will get around to posting just how real globalization is - but I was still the only westerner in the place.

Even though it is a Malay country, many people in Borneo love to have a drink at the bar on big occasions. I don't normally drink very much, but as the only foreigner there was an endless stream of people buying me a round (they wouldn't allow me to spend a penny all night). Eventually, I had Mariana (the girl who I became friends with) act as my shield so I wouldn't have to keep drinking.

Toward the end of the night I had the DJ play "Leaving on a jet plane" while I did karaoke for the whole bar. It was a great deal of fun, and a perfect fit considering I fly to Manila on Friday.

Here is video of the birthday girl drinking a flaming drink while the bar cheered her on:

I got back to my hostel a little after 2am and I began the long process of sending off emails and working out the logistics of some pressing concerns. I may be somewhere "exotic" like Borneo, but I will never be able to let go of all my commitments and responsibilities.

Nor do I really want to.

May 15, 2007

Mount Kinabalu (BORNEO)

Conquering Mount Kinabalu in Record Time

I rose at 5:30 this morning hoping to take a hot shower, but the showers were already full and people were bustling about. So I simply walked across the hall and snuck into one of the female showers. It might have been awkward if I cared about being seen, but why would I care?

I threw on a pair of running shorts and a tee-shirt along with my Merrell all-purpose shoes (thanks for the purchase several months ago, Mom). Then, I walked up to park headquarters and sat down for breakfast. I saw a couple looking around the small cafeteria and rightfully guessed it was coffee they were after. After making a bit of small talk they invited me to join them for breakfast.

The couple are recently retired from the airline industry in Singapore, presumably Singapore Airlines, and have been "living the life" ever since. What was originally supposed to be a 15 minute breakfast on the go turned into an hour and half conversation. Not only were they kind enough to pay for me, but we exchanged contact information, and I hope to take them up on their offer to visit when I am back in Singapore.

I hustled back to the main office and put my laptop and other valuables in a safety deposit box for the day. Then, I paid the park fees and was assigned my guide, Jurio. We hopped in a 4x4 jeep and reached the gate of the trail at 8:30am.

It is 9.8km from the entrance gate to the summit, and at 4100m Mount Kinabalu is the tallest mountain in all of Southeast Asia. It attracts hordes of tourists every year - some who are fit enough to conquer a mountain half as high as Everest and some who bit off more than they could chew. I wasn't sure which group I would fit into, but this was to be my first mountain climb.

The walk was through jungle terrain on a fairly well-kept path, and 75% of the time we were walking up steps (the ground was reinforced by wooden planks). Without realizing it at the time, we passed the lead group a little after 9am. My primary concern was maintaining the pace I set (the guide stayed 20m behind me the whole time) without taking any breaks. I knew the second I stopped to rest I would not want to continue onward.

We cleared the clouds by 10am, but I still didn't have any idea what kind of progress we were making. It was a 6km trek from the gate to Laba Ratan, which is the accommodation I had such a difficult time arranging.

Typically, people spend 5-7 hours on the first day climbing 6km and 3100m to Laba Ratan. Then, they spend the night at Laba Ratan and rise at 2:30am to trek the remaining 3.5km to the 4100m summit. It is a painful morning of blistering cold, but with 150 other people who are all braving the same difficulties I am sure there is plenty of motivation.

It dawned on me that we were making record time when we began passing people who were on their way down the mountain (having slept on the mountain last night and climbed to the peak this morning). I could hear the other guides speaking with Jurio, my guide, and several even commented on how impressive our time is.

It only took us 1:58 minutes to cover 6km and 3100m.

Everyone at park headquarters was shocked to see us arrive before 10:30am, but I was too concerned with recovering. Several people (who I would meet later in the day) commented that my eyes were bloodshot beyond all recognition and I looked completely ragged.

"Do you want to continue to the top?" my guide asked.

"Egh! I don't think so!" I responded. It had never dawned on me that some one could make it all the way to the summit in the same day - this was a hardcore mountain, after all, not some lightweight 1200m climb. The sign at the park entrance showed the various park records - including a man who reached the summit in only 3:15 minutes. Of course, I later found out the man had also served as a guide to the top of Mount Everest.

After five minutes of contemplating the question and looking at my watch - only 10:35 - I decided I might as well try to conquer the whole damn mountain in a single day. I told my guide I would give it a go, but I needed 20 minutes for my body to recover.

I left my bag with the fantastic Mr. Lorrance - the park's head honcho who arranged for me to sleep on the floor of Laba Ratan - and rented a jacket for the cold weather. I had to change out of all my clothes because they were completely soaked, but by 10:50 I was ready to begin the climb with my guide.

I might have felt a real sense of importance as I waited amongst the other guides and tourists - by then word had spread I was going for the summit on a same-day attempt - but I was too worried over how I was going to make it up the more challenging second leg of the climb.

I was hoping to stay as light as possible so I only brought my camera for the summit-attempt, but this was a novice decision that nearly cost me later.

After Laba Ratan we were above the tree-line and flat sheets of granite were all that awaited us. We passed several groups of climbers coming down from their morning summit attempts, but by 11:30 my guide and I had the mountain all to ourselves.

Climbing was slow-going by this point, and I was literally bent over on my hands and knees for the first 30 minutes. Then, we reached the tricky final section of the climb where heavy ropes were the only way to climb the desert-like sheets of rock. It was 2.5km spent keeled over pulling myself up the steep slope. My legs had nothing left in them and I was relying on my arms to do all the work.

The secret to my success was rooted in the belief that stopping for more than 15 seconds was the worst thing I could do. It would give me time to think how crazy this whole thing is and how much easier it is to head back and continue onward in the morning like the other 149 climbers.

But then I remembered something very important:

A man's worth, like his integrity, is earned when no one is watching.

Having the mental strength to finish the climb was never a concern. I knew I wouldn't quit until I peaked out (and made it back safely), but I was having some serious problems with altitude sickness and dehydration. I foolishly decided against bringing water, but the air was so dry and devoid of oxygen that my throat and mouth were desperate for moisture, and I could feel Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) setting in. I experienced AMS when I visited Tibet, so I knew what the signs were.

Since there wasn't much that could be done at this point these problems only spurred me on further. I figured the sooner I conquered the mountain the sooner I could descend to safety and alleviate my migraines. But such thoughts didn't stop me from wondering what would happen if I passed out from dehydration (there was no protection from the sun) or if I experienced a white-out from the altitude. Again, my guide and I were the only ones making the summit attempt, and with the logistical difficulties of the ropes I don't know how a rescue attempt would work.

At half past 12 I passed the 9.5km marker, and I knew it was only several hundred meters to the much-anticipated summit. This was the toughest part of the climb, though, and I couldn't help lying down trying desperately to garner every last ounce of strength. My guide was roughly 100m behind me for the summit attempt, and I appreciated this because it was likely his way of allowing me to tackle the challenge on my own. I would have hated having other people with me because this was - like all tests of significance - a test that is meant to be passed without any outside influence.

The final 50 meters were an expedition in rock-climbing as I was forced to haul myself up massive boulders to reach the 4100m marker. I would be lying if I said I didn't think about heading back right then because I had long since passed what I thought was my breaking point.

At 12:50 I stood atop the summit 4100m high without another soul in sight.

My guide caught up with me twenty minutes later and we laid down relaxing for nearly about 45 minutes. The wind was something severe, and I was worried about getting badly burned because it was too cold to feel the sun's rays. I nearly forgot to snap pictures of the summit because I was so tired, but I was able to take the following video. It isn't possible to hear most of what I am mumbling on about because of the wind and for the first 20 seconds the camera is pointing straight down because I was too incoherent to remember to move the camera around.

Thankfully the way down was far easier than the way up. We were able to cover ground in half the time it took to come up, and I must have been using different muscles because I found new strength. I had to hold the ropes and climb backward for parts of the return-trip, but we made it back to Laba Ratan by 2pm. I ran inside the main building, gathered my belongings while blushing to an ovation from other workers and climbers, and with snacks they handed me I set off to climb all the way down the mountain.

I decided against spending the night at Laba Ratan and seeing the sunrise in the morning because I knew my legs would be jelly in the morning and there is no way sharing the views with 100 other people can ever match standing atop the mountain alone.

I thought we made it up the mountain fast, but my guide and I really pushed it on the way down. We were basically jogging the whole way with the notable exception of the steps - my knees were in really bad shape from all the climbing.

I passed roughly 10 people I have met along my journey in Borneo, including the Londoner, Aussie, and Dutch girl I have been traveling with recently. All were shocked beyond belief I had climbed the entire mountain in a day - they were only 3/4 of the way to Laba Ratan at 3:00pm! Unsurprisingly, we beat half the previous day's climbers back to park headquarters, as well.

We passed through the entrance gate at 3:42, which meant I conquered Mount Kinabalu in 7 hours and 12 minutes. Not bad considering I was not planning on doing any of this when I started off for the day. I saw plenty of people who are far fitter than me, but as I said before this was a mental challenge and the body has no choice but to obey what the brain wants.

I collected my climbing certificate at park headquarters and endured another series of applause for being the only person to accomplish the feat in quite some time. I gave my guide a substantial bonus for staying with me the whole way, and I was happy to hear the park also compensates him for the added level of difficulty.

By 4:30 I was standing on the side of the road waiting for transport that could take me back to Kota Kinabalu for the night. Eventually, a minibus came along and I hopped aboard.

I checked back into the same hostel as several nights ago, as I have become good friends with the three female owners. Even though they were fully booked for the night they agreed to let me sleep in their room (separate bed, of course) for the night. They also went so far as to buy me dinner and will hang a picture of me on the wall to show all other guests "how to climb a mountain."

Nothing tasted so good as the bottles of Carlsberg, but I have a feeling my legs will be jelly in the morning.

But it was more than worth it!

May 14, 2007

Kota Kinabalu (BORNEO)

Figuring Out a Way onto Mount Kinabalu

The order of business for the day was figuring out a way onto Mount Kinabalu, which at 4100m is Southeast Asia's tallest mountain. Although 150 climbers are granted permission to climb each day, the next available booking is a month and half from now. Since my flight leaves for Manila (Philippines) on Friday, I had to figure out something new.

I was the first one through the door at the park office in Kota Kinabalu, but as expected I was told that there were no cancellations and the chances of climbing were slim. I spent the next half an hour chatting up the workers, and they agreed to call me later in the day if anything became available.

Rather than waiting around, I wrote down two of the girls' mobile numbers and maintained constant contact, and I even brought them a famous Malay snack when I came back in the afternoon. Fortunately, the girls were on my side and called their boss to see what could be worked out. I was thrilled to hear they would let me climb the following day, but I would have to sleep on the restaurant floor in a sleeping bag they would provide.

So, I rushed back to my hostel, and after gathering all my belongings (really not that much) the girls arranged a free lift to the park.

I checked into a small dormitory at the base of the mountain at around 7pm, and after attending an informational session for the climb I got an early night's sleep.

I will start climbing early tomorrow morning.

May 13, 2007

Kota Kinabalu (BORNEO)

Boat Ride to Kota Kinabalu and Exploring the City

You guessed it: today began with yet another early morning. By 5:30am I had finished showering and was walking toward the Brunei bus station with only a granola bar for breakfast. We caught the first bus to the international ferry terminal, and from there we departed for a tax-free island in the state of Sabah, Malaysia. After clearing immigration, we only had a few minutes to linger before catching yet another boat that took us the final leg of the journey to the capital of Sabah, Kota Kinabalu (KK, for short). We didn't arrive until 3pm, but it was a pleasant day of relaxing on the deck of the boat with great views of the South China Sea and perfect weather.

Several travelers we met recommended a hostel to us, so we quickly dropped off our bags and set off in search of food. I quickly devoured two plates of chicken and rice, and then I did my normal routine of walking the city to acclimatize.

I found a great fish market tucked away near the harbor, and the locals were more than happy to chat. After I examined the sharks for sale at one of the tables, I explained how I am terrified of sharks. The locals found this quite funny, and even thought to chase me with one of the sharks. It was a fun time as word quickly spread through the market, and I repeatedly had an eel or barracuda perched on my shoulder.

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten much sleep over the past week and I needed to lie down. I headed back to the hostel and passed out on a couch in the communal area until my friends awoke me for dinner. We found an Italian restaurant in the middle of town that actually had a 15 minute wait (unprecedented in a place like KK, and Asia in general), so we decided to indulge in real cheese, red wine, and garlic bread. It always feels bad spending money on food, but this was a well earned $11 meal.

I tried several bars around town, but no one was carrying Arsenal's final game of the season, so I simply shared a few beers on the hostel balcony. I met a woman who just finished climbing Mount Kinabalu, which is my primary purpose for coming to KK. After talking about what to expect on the 4100m climb, we moved on to other topics. She did her graduate work at Cambridge University and is currently working as a consultant for environmental issues, so we covered a lot of ground. One of the more interesting topics were the engineering possibilities that exist in this field - something that will become more and more important as I whittle down my field of focus.

As for climbing the mountain, I am still without a reservation and the waiting list stretches over a month. This is a bit of a nuisance since I fly to the Philippines on Friday, but I will spend all of tomorrow figuring out a way up the mountain.

If I have learned anything from my travels, it is that anything is possible as long as you are willing to make it happen.

In other words, I will get up that mountain one way or another.

May 12, 2007

Bandar Seri Begawan (BRUNEI)

A Day in the Oil-Rich Kingdom of Brunei

This morning started early: as I settled down in bed for the night I began chatting with a couple European girls sleeping in the bunk next to me, and after half an hour we decided we might as well head out for a few beers at a local pub. Both study in Copenhagen at one of Europe's top business schools, and they have 10 days of freedom in Borneo before heading back for a series of presentations. It is difficult re-capping the variety of topics we chatted about, but suffice to say we didn't get back until 3am.

One of the girls is the daughter of a Swedish diplomat, and after living all over the world (including visits to Jupiter, Florida and Cope Cod, Massachusetts - I have family in both places) she developed a terrific base of knowledge and perspective. The other girl lived in America for several years while attending a prep school on a field-hockey scholarship, and despite her modesty it was clear how competent she was, as well. The Europeans are a lucky bunch because exposure to a variety of nationalities means they are cultured from a young age. This is a trait Americans must work hard to learn, and it is never easy because of of time and distance constraints.

When I told them I keep this weblog, they made me promise the to quote the following comment they directed toward me: "If all the world were as informed as you the possibilities would be endless." I feel silly typing such things ("he who thinks little of himself is much more than he thinks"), but I don't want to rule out the possibility they will hire me some day for following through on promises.

The second part of my morning began at 7am when I collected my belongings, showered, and had a quick bite to eat before departing for the country of Brunei. Once more I was lucky enough to hook up with a group of people who had already chartered a taxi, and I ended up saving money by tagging along with a Brit, an Aussie, and a Dutch girl.

I have long-since stopped counting the number of countries I have visited because it is too difficult to characterize what counts as a country (for example: Taiwan, Tibet, Bali, Hong Kong, and Borneo), but a more serious issue is that my passport is becoming dangerously full. I have 24 pages covered in stamps and visas, and despite having extra pages added once before I may soon be forced to apply for a new one.

Brunei immigrations was a painless process: we drove up, handed our passports through the window, received our stamps, and drove on. I tried ordering a Big Mac and fries - upsized - when I handed over my passport, but I don't think the officer caught my joke. That, or he was like everyone else in the car, and just didn't find the joke very funny.

Later on the ride, I listened to our Chinese driver's conversation on a mobile, and he was talking about how long it would take for us to arrive (he had a pick-up to make at the airport in the afternoon). Since he didn't speak any English, I asked him about all this in Mandarin, and once more the language has turned into my greatest asset because he was thrilled I could speak. We all found it funny how excited he was, and after conversing for a bit he said he would take us to Brunei's famous Empire Hotel.

For anyone who doesn't know about the Empire Hotel, it is rated a 6-star hotel that cost $1.1 billion to build. It was commissioned by the infamous Prince Jeffri (brother of the current Sultan) as a way to encourage tourism in the oil-rich country. This is the same Prince Jeffri who formerly stole over $4 billion of public funds for his lavish lifestyle - which included gold-plated toilet brushes, upwards of 2000 cars, and several private jets - and he even carried out an audacious kidnapping of Miss America. He hired her as the face of Brunei's tourism industry, and then kept her locked up for several months while he attempted to use her in ways she wanted nothing to do with. More recently, Prince Jeffri has been exiled to London by the sultan, but he is still being pursued for allegedly stealing upward of $10 billion in recent years (he was formerly the Minister of Finance).

All this puts Britain's concerns over royalty in a bit of perspective.

Anyway, the driver took us to the hotel and he sat around while we wandered through the grand atrium with an 80m ceiling, seven restaurants, a Jack Nicklaus designed golf course, cinema, bowling alley, and eight pools (totalling 11,000 sq. meters). Of course, with a price tag of $26,000/night the accommodation didn't quite fit in with my backpacker's attire and student's budget.

An hour later we arrived in the capital of Brunei, Bandar Seri Begawan. We checked into the slightly more modest Hostel Brunei, which cost $10/night and was still the most expensive bed I have paid for on this trip.

I grabbed a quick meal of gado-gado - an Indonesian favorite - and began touring what felt like a ghost town. It was Saturday, and there were still hardly any people on the streets, and all the shop owners were lounging around worry-free. Even the jewelry shops were right out in the open with simple glass encasing and no security guards. This is an advantage of a country where petrol costs $0.25/liter, alcohol and drugs are strictly prohibited (and harshly enforced), most purchases are government subsidized, and the sultan formerly held the coveted position as the world's richest man (presumably until Prince Jeffri went on his spending spree).

The most impressive sight in BSB was the imposing Omar Alu Saifuddien Mosque, which is the city's tallest structure (the sultan ordered other buildings lowered). The interior of the mosque was every bit as impressing as the exterior, but the guard was not particularly friendly and we each looked like Harry Potter in the black robes we had to wear.

Afterward we continued wandering the town and found a local water taxi who agreed to take us on an hour long tour of the world's largest stilt community. Excluding the 0.2% of the population who comprise the royal family, an estimated 30,000 of Brunei's citizens still live on houses built over the river. The schools, mosques, and police station all make up the colorful boardwalk community, and it was pleasant riding through the "village." I posted YouTube video at the end of this post.

Later in the day we toured the Royal Regalia Museum, which houses an impressive collection of gifts to the world's richest monarch; most impressive was the huge dragon carriage that took up half the main hall, but the silver magnum would have made Dirty Harry (Clint Eastwood) proud.

As the day wound down I headed to a local coffee shop where I began chatting with a local girl and her brother. The girl just finding her business degree in London while her older brother was working for the Ministry of Defense, so they spent the next two hours answering my litany of questions - each of which they found quite hilarious. The people of Brunei have a great sense of humor, and don't take their country too seriously.

Before dinner I made one final loop around the Mosque while the sun set in the background, and then I savored one of the best martabok ayam dishes I have ever had.

Other than food, staying at the Empire Hotel, working in the oil industry, or visiting the terrific locals, there are not too many reasons to visit Brunei. This was even confirmed by the French diplomat who I (literally) ran into when he was walking out of a grocery mart. We had a good laugh over the close call, and he went on to explain his role was to assist the French community who work for Total (oil company).

Finally, here is video of the cruise along the water villages of Brunei.

May 12, 2007

SINGAPORE

Making a Difference - Hopefully a Good One

To see what kind of an influence I am having on my friends, you can read these two weblogs (Wai San or Wai Hong) of friends I made in Singapore. Somewhere along the way of numerous conversations I convinced them to tour Europe and Asia for the summer, and they are actually going through with it! For a Singaporean to do such a thing, especially with grades as good as theirs, is quite audacious!

Below is a picture we took together for a soccer tournament back in Singapore. They are (oddly enough) the only two wearing glasses.

May 11, 2007

Miri (BORNEO)

Impressive Niah Cave

Finally a proper night's rest, a proper shower, and real coffee. I haven't washed my clothes since leaving Singapore so that was high on my morning agenda, as was keeping this weblog updated.

Miri is a quickly growing oil town that is inundated with people of all shapes and sizes. Seemingly everyone is trying to capitalize on the quick growth, so it is interesting chatting with the locals and hearing how they are trying to "make it". One of the worst kept secrets in Malaysia (remember: both Sarawak and Sabah are officially Malaysian states) is that the Malay people are given preferential treatment over other races, despite their reputation as being lazy. Thus, the hard-working Chinese and natives often find themselves frustrated over the difficulty in being awarded contracts or government licenses while the (often) less able Malays  receive preferential treatment.

Over lunch I practiced my Chinese at a small noodle shop, and after hearing I was waiting to board a long-distance bus to the impressive Niah Cave, one of the men sitting nearby eventually offered to take me. The 54 year old Mr. Lu enjoys exercising and wanted to join me on the 13km walk so long as I paid for gasoline on the 240km trip. It was a great deal for both of us, and we set off at 1pm.

After checking into park headquarters, we boarded a small boat that took us to the jungle boardwalk. Mr Lu basically served as my guide while we scurried along at a brisk pace. Apparently, he takes part in an activity called "hashing," which is basically a free-for-all run through jungle terrain, across rivers, and up rock faces. Of course, cold beer awaits the 100 or so people who take part in the weekly outing. I would have loved to join them, but time is not on my side.

**FYI: My camera was out of batteries today so I couldn't take any pictures. It was a big let-down because the views were amazing.**

The boardwalk to the caves was a tricky ordeal as the planks were made of a sawdust-plaster combination, and a few days ago an Australian man actually put a leg straight through two of the planks as he was walking. The Aussie is still holed up in his hotel with a thrashed leg and severely sprained ankle. We passed four such holes on our way, so I made sure to walk above the supports the whole way.

The first cave we passed through was Trader's Cave, and it is where sparrow-nest trading once occurred. From there we continued on through the 100meter high Niah Cave where roughly 450,000 bats hide away in the dark corners of the cave. It took us 35 minutes of walking before we passed through to the other side of the cave, and we spent a long 15 minutes walking in pitch black a top a grimy plank with water dripping on us. Without a torch it would be impossible to find your way through, and without some one for company it is easy to be overcome by fear: I saw several massive spiders with my torch and on the side walls I could see swarms of bats sleeping.

We continued another few kilometers through the jungle to the Painted Cave where we saw a preserved "death boat," which is basically a suspended coffin where ancient natives laid down their important elders for eternal rest. There were also a series of faded paintings along the walls, but the paint was too faint to properly make out the scenes.

After a bit of wandering and cooling off, we backtracked back to the grand Niah Cave and waited around for the famous changing of the guard at dusk - when the sparrows return to their nests and the bats swarm out for night hunting.

Other than a handful of traders who live inside the cave to protect the nests from eager entrepreneurs, we didn't pass anyone for the afternoon. The trader's art works as follows: they climb to the upper levels of the cave once a month to collect sparrow nests, which are then sold for a hefty profit on the Chinese medicine market. Mr. Lu said a  trader falls to his death every couple of years, and I wasn't surprised as they have to shimmy up lengths of rope without any kind of support (there were roughly 50 such ropes scattered throughout Niah Cave). Once the men reach the roof of the cave, they position lengths of bamboo in crevices and work their way around in search of nests. Try imagining a 100meter length of rope hanging down from a blacked out cavern at the roof of the cave and you will be as impressed as I was.

By 6pm the swarm of circling sparrows found their way back to the nests, and the first bats began sneaking out along the roof of the cave. The bats looked like ants crawling along a wall, but the chew-chew-chew flapping sound gave away their real identity. As time passed the swarm of bats increased in density, and I could see them scouring the jungle for fruit trees. We strained our necks upward for 30 minutes watching in amazement before Mr. Lu and I set back in the darkness. We both had torches, but it was still slow going because the planks were so dangerous and slippery.

We arrived back in Miri at 9pm, and I was completely knackered from the long day. I took a shower and bought some dinner before joining Roger, Mick, and their wives for a few card games. We listened to a couple of good British artists that I would highly recommend: Keane and Raising the Light.

In the morning I will leave for the oil-rich state of Brunei.

May 10, 2007

Miri (BORNEO)

Settling Down in Miri

At 7am I left the longhouse on a four hour 4x4 drive to coastal Borneo. It was yet another night where sleep was hard to come by, but I was heading for an oil city where proper accommodation was awaiting my arrival.

After being dropped off on a main road, I waited about an hour before catching a ride onward to the oil city of Miri in eastern Sarawak. I checked into a hostel late in the afternoon, and found a small Chinese noodle shop where I was able to practice my Chinese. One of the greatest parts of traveling in Asia is speaking Mandarin on a regular basis, and it always earns me an extra dish of free food.

Since today was mostly full of travel and the process of resettling there weren't too many interesting things going on. However, I did meet a fantastic girl in a coffee shop who is half Cantonese and half Kayan (local tribe in Borneo), and we hit it off quite well. Unfortunately, traveling from city to city and country to country is not conducive to the process of building relationships.

Some day, maybe, but not now.

And not any time soon, either.

May 9, 2007

Central Borneo

A Day with the Penan Tribe

Sleep was hard to come by for the night, and at 5am I had enough. I rose from the small shelter we were sleeping in and wandered the nearby area with my torch. It was a bit of aimless walking, but there was no way I could lie there any longer. All I cared about was having survived the night.

Mick and Roger awoke a little after 6am, and we spent the next hour discussing our options. They paid several hundred dollars for the entire trip, which was supposed to last four days, so it was a big let-down for them. We decided we would spend the rest of the day with the Penan and head out in the afternoon.

Breakfast consisted of white rice and hot tea, but once more I felt awful eating while the rest of the tribe sat by watching. Basically, the three of us are going two straight days without eating. Trust me when I say it is easier this way.

One of the Penan hunters led us into the jungle for the morning, and by 8:30 we were well on our way. After about an hour of walking we had to ford a small river, and as we descended down the slope Roger got stuck in the mud - and when I say stuck, I mean he was up to both thighs in muck. We weren't in any hurry to help him out, so we were free to enjoy the scene as he tried to wiggle his way out.

We continued onward through the jungle while Daniel translated the Penan hunting techniques. Besides the home-made rifle (impressively made from old car parts), dogs were their most important hunting tool. Unfortunately, an outbreak of rabies wiped out the entire canine community about one year ago.

Speaking of being wiped out, a few weeks ago our Penan guide nearly died of malaria. Daniel visited the camp when word of his illness spread, and Daniel convinced the man to seek out western medicine. I was less than thrilled when Daniel also told us the malaria-stricken man spent five days dying in the hut we slept in last night. Thankfully I didn't get bit during the night - despite mosquitoes, moths, spiders, and other critters lining our nets.

At around noon we reached another river where we were free to relax in the shade while we waited for a dugout canoe to pick us up. It was a great spot - reminiscent of the setting for the movie A River Runs Through It -  and I couldn't understand why the Penan didn't live here.

Despite being terrified of crocodiles, I followed Mick and Roger into the river to cool off. We spent about an hour relaxing in the water while we left the fishing poles wedged between rocks, but all we caught was an 8 inch eel. The other Penan hunters had better luck with their nets, and caught about a dozen fair sized fish. This was to be our lunch later in the day. The Penan do not use any preservation techniques choosing instead to eat everything in one sitting.

Eventually the canoe reached us and we hopped in for the ride back to camp. We were riding low in the water, which became a serious matter because there was a gap between two of the planks that allowed water in every time we rocked to the left. Our butts were soaking, and by the time we got out there was easily 3 inches of water in the boat. This was yet another sign that the Penan are not the world's greatest tribe.

When we arrived back at camp we introduced the tribe to the game of soccer and worked up an easy sweat in the process.

Lunch consisted of the fish we caught, more sago, and white rice. As always, my back began aching from the stick floor and I ate like a bird. Even the tea makes me nervous because the tribe gets it from the local river, and even with boiling I don't think all the germs are killed. Better not to think about such things, I suppose.

The real highlight of the trip came after lunch when the girls began singing for us. They dressed up in their best clothing (Daniel often brings them used articles from Belaga), and all the songs all dealt with love. Daniel went on to explain that several of the young girls had fallen in love with me and were desperate for me to stay. They were not shy about their affection either, and would put their arms around me while they sang. From the looks I was getting it was fairly obvious what was on their minds... Mick, Roger, and I were all surprised they were so open about their sexuality, but we were also afraid of getting a spear in the side from the tribe's men.

The girls had beautiful voices and I wish I had a tape recorder because their native songs will not last forever. Hopefully the picture to the right also shows how beautiful many of the girls actually were. It is a shame they will never have the opportunity to pursue an education or fully blossom (the hygiene is horrible, and the elders were all toothless).

Both the oldest man in the village and his wife put on their traditional clothing and showed us a variety of Penan customs, including how to: use a blowpipe, kill a boar, and extract sago from a palm tree. It was much better than the kind of touristy stuff you can find elsewhere, and the old man was far more agile than he looked. It was obvious he took pride in showing his ability even if it has been many years since he stalked the jungle.

Before we set out, we followed the Penan to a river to cool off and play in the water. As I mentioned, sharing songs with the tribe was the best thing that could have happened because we really connected with one another. It was a bit sad leaving, but there was no way we could survive another night sleeping in the small shack.

Daniel brought us to his longhouse for the night, but we didn't arrive until 8:30pm. I still had a bottle of brandy in my pack, so we sat on the communal walkway with a group of ten elders and shared stories. This was a great time as many of the elders had aided the British as scouts during the communist uprisings in Kalimantan (Indonesian Borneo).

As for sleep, it was another rough and ready night with the nets draped over us. If Mick and Roger weren't with me I would have really been in trouble because they have two of the greatest personalities and kept the entire trip exciting. Both would be meeting their wives the following day in the city of Sibu, so we decided we would all travel together because we were getting along great.

May 8, 2007

Belaga (BORNEO)

Into the Heart of Borneo and Sleeping with a Penan Tribe

No matter how you look at it, 5am departures are always rough. My nose was still stuffed up from the night before and I didn't get enough sleep, but I collected my gear and walked across town to board the small passenger ship heading upriver.

The hull of the boat was inundated with cold air, but I was too tired to go above deck and simply unpacked several t-shirts and pants to stay warm. I then slept for most of the morning.

The other passengers on the boat were all native tribesmen and the views offered nothing except the occasional longhouse speckling the waterfront. Most of the native men aboard the boat bore a variety of tattoos, which usually included an imposing tattoo down the throat of the neck, while most of the women had elongated earlobes with large holes and patterned tattoos going from the elbow to the fingertips.

The only real incident worth mentioning came a little after 10am when the boat cut the engine suddenly, and I could hear the pounding of feet above deck. Looking out my window, I saw men jumping over each other with their spears aimed into the water. At first I thought some one might have fallen in, but as the boat began circling the water I realized they must have spotted a wild animal and wanted to hunt it. Whatever it was they were looking for was hidden by the murky waters, and soon we were back on our way.

At 2pm, the boat made its final stop at the small town of Belaga, which was the kind of one street town that existed in the early days of the wild wild west.

I searched the town for a man named Daniel who could supposedly direct me into the jungle, and when I found him we sat down to eat lunch and discuss my options. Daniel said I arrived at the perfect time because he was heading into the jungle within the hour to stay with a nomadic tribe called the Penan. So, rather than visit a longhouse for a couple days as I originally planned, I could join him and sleep in the jungle while learning the native ways of the Penan. This was a better option than I had ever hoped for, so I jumped at the idea (after the painful process of negotiating costs down from the substantial price of $150USD to $35USD, of course).

Two other Westerners, a Brit named Mick and an Aussie named Roger, had spent the last couple of days organizing the trip with Daniel, so I was basically piggy-backing off their work. When we met one another, they advised me of the dangers in the jungle - primarily diseases like malaria and Japanese encephalitis - and wore an obvious look of shock when they heard I hadn't even had my malaria shots. I took the hint, and stopped in at a local shop to buy a mosquito net, a long-sleeved shirt, and a bottle of bug spray loaded with 40% deet. Then, only one hour after I arrived in Belaga, I boarded another small boat and headed upriver with Daniel, Mick, and Roger.

We were going beyond where Westerners are legally allowed to travel, but Daniel assured we would be OK. He seemed to know everyone, and we saw plenty of cash changing hands en route, so I wasn't too worried.

We disembarked at the massive Bakun Dam project, which has suffered numerous set-backs since the project began in 1996, and picked up some last minute supplies. I know our presence was highly illegal as there are a variety of NGOs around the world who would love to cover the destruction the project is causing - roughly 15,000 natives have been displaced, the entire valley was razed for profit, and everything will be flooded when the project is completed.

A 4x4 jeep drove us along a set of logging tracks for about an hour before we arrived at the Penan encampment. We were greeted by the Penan people, who consisted of three families (16 people) with ages ranging from a newborn baby to several elders who appeared to be around 60. Although they have been living at this site for the past 8 months, I was shocked that these shacks were the best they could build in such a long time frame. Quite frankly, the living standards were horrific.

Needless to say, the depressing collection of four shacks were not the jungle abode we were expecting, and to be honest it was a bit disappointing. However, it was getting dark and we had to get our sleeping arrangement settled before the mosquitoes settled in. It was a difficult task coordinating our three mosquito nets so there were no gaps - especially considering the mosquitoes could get in from any direction (including below us). However, Mick served in the British armed forces for 35 years and was able to jerry-rig quite well (no bites throughout the night).

For dinner, we settled into the main hut for a simple dish called Sago, which is a kind of vegetable that comes from a Sago Palm. It was horrible to the taste, but none of us wanted to offend the local Penan by refusing. We followed it up with tea that we brought as a gift and a small serving of white rice. It was clear the tribe hadn't eaten in quite some time as the children were all eyeing the food anxiously.

It was customary for we three guests to eat first and there were only 4 plates and 3 cups to go around. It was awkward knowing the locals had to wait until we finished, but in all honesty it was better than eating the Sago where everyone dug their hands in at the same time. Would you have eaten the food shown to the right?

Even though he is Kayan, Daniel learned the Penan language as a boy, and he did all the translating as we spent several hours talking with the village chief after dinner. The rest of the people watched on in silence while we learned about things like religion (Animism), history, and hunting techniques. I was dying of discomfort from sitting on the hard wooden sticks that were laid down as flooring, and I have never been able to properly sit cross-legged (it is disrespectful to spread your legs as they may point in some one's direction) so my back was aching.

Things got a little better after we finished a bottle of brandy and smoked tobacco from dried leaves, but I was happy to retire for the night with Mick and Roger. We climbed into our small shack and the night's fun really began. There was no way three grown men could properly sleep in the 5'x5' "dog house." Fortunately, both Mick and Roger have some of the wittiest humor and kept our spirits up as best as possible.

Roger summed it up best when he remarked, "They're no more than a bunch of f***ing gypos on the side of a logging track!" I still crack up when I think of this because he hit the nail directly on the head: the Penan we met are either not bright enough to improve their lives or so set in their ways that they don't see the need to improve. Either way, we felt like there was very little for us to learn from them.

The night was a test of pure endurance. There was no room for us to turn over, and sleeping on sticks 1 inch in diameter is hardly conducive for sleep - it was literally impossible to get comfortable, especially with legs curled up to stay inside the mosquito nets. All I could think was: "Just make it to 6am and you will have survived the worst night of your life."

May 7, 2007

Sibu (BORNEO)

Boat Ride to Sibu and Needed Rest

I earned a couple extra hours of sleep this morning as my boat didn't leave the dock until 8:30am. From Kuching, it was a five hour boat ride through various muddied rivers and even across part of the South China Sea. However, it was freezing cold below deck so I unlocked a hatch and snuck onto the roof of the boat. This made the ride somewhat better, but the sun in Borneo is dangerous and I don't want to be held up by bad sunburns. Also, most of the view was destroyed by the heavy logging that has left the water polluted with topsoil and other detritus.

When I arrived in Sibu, which is no more than a logging town at the base of the mighty Rejang river, I stopped in at a small cafe to eat lunch and collect my bearings. I was planning to board another boat within the hour to continue my upriver journey, but after inquiring at the docks I found a better option is to continue all the way upstream on a 5am boat the next morning. I have been coping with the onset of a cold, so half a day's rest seemed like a better idea than pushing onward today.

I checked into a hostel where I had the room to myself for the first time on this trip, and I even had a few drops of hot water in the shower. The heat was more of a tease than anything, but it helped clear up my sinuses.

I picked up a government permit for my upriver travel, and I stopped in at a supermarket to buy food for the long journey.

I will continue onward early tomorrow morning.

May 6, 2007

Kuching (BORNEO)

Arriving in Kuching on the Mystical Island of Borneo

Well, that was fast! Visiting Malaysia, I mean. Only two days ago I left Singapore heading north, and at 8:30 this morning I caught a flight from Kuala Lumpur to the western tip of Sarawak, a semi-autonomous state on the island of Borneo. I had to pinch myself a few times as I walked across the airport tarmac to board my flight - who on earth ever imagines they will visit a place like Borneo? Along with Kathmandu and Fiji, Borneo always sounded like the kind of place that exists somewhere in the world, but it's not like any one actually goes there.

My flight was open seating, which was a first for me, so I sat as close to the flight attendants as I could. Asian airlines always employ the prettiest girls they can find.

Unfortunately, I still look too young for flight attendants to take me seriously. Maybe I will appreciate my boyish features when I am 40+, but I doubt it; men in their mid-forties always seem slightly creepy when they hit on young flight attendants. I just can't win.

But hell, I am flying to Borneo.

I usually laugh (inwardly) when I see people doing this, but I couldn't resist the temptation to take pictures as the South China Sea gave way to the jungle-clad beaches of Sarawak.

After clearing immigration, I approached the only other westerner on the plane and we shared a taxi into the city of Kuching. On the drive, Chris explained he is from New York City and is currently working for the US Embassy in Bangkok. He has a great set-up where he rotates to a new country every two years, and he will be going to Japan at the end of this summer.

As for my Japan situation, I have been accepted to study and do research in Tokyo, but the university will not begin the admission process until they can find on-campus housing for me (Tokyo being one of the world's most expensive cities to live in). There isn't much I can do about the situation, so I have been twiddling my thumbs waiting to see how it all plays out.

Chris and I checked out a few hostels in Kuching before deciding we could save money by sharing a room for the night. It was a nice change for me because the 8-12 person dormitories can become tiring, and I haven't had the best luck with accommodation on this trip.

I tossed my pack on the bed and immediately set off across town to catch the tail-end of the Sunday market where local villagers come to sell their wares. Kuching is a small town, despite being the capital, so it felt like the entire town was crowded into the Sunday besar.

I sampled a few of the foods on display, including a waffle-like treat with diced peanuts inside. This one was an easy success, and something I will try to make on my own.

Some of the other interesting things being sold at the market were the live fish - one vendor picked up a 10kg fish to show me, only for the fish to slip out of his hands onto the hard pavement - and the dead fish. I believe the heads shown to the left are actually dolphins, which I believe is a protected species. Such laws must not apply here because turtle meat was also up for sale, and I know that is a protected animal.

I continued strolling the town and slowly made my way toward the riverfront where Chris and I ate at a small Sarawak-style cafe. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and traveling is exhausting, so I filled up on a spicy vegetable soup, soft shell crab, and Sarawak's native rice dish (spiced chicken, diced cucumbers, and a brown colored rice with herbs). I am usually afraid of ordering crab because I have a difficult time getting to the meat, but soft shell is easy, and in Sarawak it is absurdly cheap ($1.50 for two crabs).

For the afternoon I worked my way through a couple of museums, which turned out to be every bit as interesting at the ones in Kuching. There was an oil drilling exhibit sponsored by Shell Oil, but it seemed like a small token of appreciation for the billions of dollars that are pumped out of the country every year.

Another part of the museum dealt with tribal body art, but I will come back to this topic later in the day.

The final section of the museum displayed the variety of wildlife in Borneo, and I was naturally captivated by the never-ending ways in which I can meet a painful end during my stay here. The slithering section of Noah's Ark must have found their way onto the island because there are cobras, vipers, pythons, sea snakes, and a slew of others that come in every color imaginable. As if this wasn't enough of a deterrent for some one who always checks his shoes before putting them on, there are also crocodiles, sharks, spiders, and monitor lizards.

One of the "artifacts" on display was a wrist watch stopped at 10:45 on the 7th of some unknown month. The newspaper article beside the watch explained the time shown indicated when a local man was eaten by a 16 foot crocodile that measured over one meter in width. I took satisfaction knowing the local police gave up on trying to capture the crocodile, figuring it easier to shoot rifles into the water and "toss hand-grenades in the crocodile's general vicinity". I can visualize this hunt going on with a group of locals standing by to watch from the shore as if it is nothing new.

Welcome to Sarawak.

I wound down the day along the waterfront and watched as a local artisan solicited passer-bys for a caricature. He spoke a bit of English, which made it fun because he had a joke about every one - especially the Malays.

The indigenous Sarawak people are highly proud of their heritage, and for the most part they do not enjoy being an official state of Malaysia. It was explained to me that the timber, mining, and oil money are being pumped out of the local economy and sent to the Malaysian government. However, there is some justice: residents from Peninsular Malaysia must pass immigration upon arrival in Sarawak, and they can only stay for a maximum two weeks. I was granted 2 months.

For dinner I met up with another traveler I met along the waterfront, Victoria from New York City. She is a not-so-typical rich kid who majored in computer science, but retired from IBM only 4 years after graduation. Her parents left her a large endowment, you see. She now spends 3-4 months out of the year traveling to the world's most exotic places, and for the rest of the year she "enjoys her chance to wear high heels in NYC". She isn't exactly my cup of tea - no one likes a spoiled person who "has the world figured out" - but she was talkative and a fun person to be around for the night.

For dinner, Victoria brought me to a local restaurant run by an Iban councilmember (the Iban tribe was formerly Borneo's most powerful and militaristic) who cooked us dinner and sat down for a chat. He was a wealth of information, and was more than happy to entertain my litany of questions about tribal art after I discovered he studied Art Science (of all things!!) in Fort Lauderdale, Florida (of all places!!).

Some of the more interesting pieces of information...

 - The Iban tribe are tattooed as a demonstration of manhood, to show respect to the gods, and in preparation for a difficult endeavor. They find it strange that Westerners tattoo themselves for something as trivial as "a look".

 - Men often have their penis pierced perpendicularly with a 2-3 inch long bone or piece of metal (resembling a large splinter), and some even have beads sewed into the foreskin to resemble the rafflesia flower. Both of these painful procedures are done to enhance the experience for women. Personally, I think it will only scare the hell out of them.

 - The Iban were the strongest tribe in Borneo, and although head-hunting has long since ended, the skulls of fallen enemies still hang from the communal longhouses in the belief that it gives strength to the tribe.

The final ounce of fun came after I scoured the town in search of a television showing the live football match between Arsenal and Chelsea. Eventually, I found what I was looking for, and I happily sat down to enjoy the game.

While watching, I chatted with a group of students sitting at an adjacent table. After I told them I was heading up-river to a communal longhouse, they insisted I wouldn't be safe because headhunting is not as dead as the government lets people believe. During the period from 1997-1998, they explained, members of the Iban tribe killed rival Madura tribesman in the Indonesian state of Kalimantan (southern half of Borneo), and after decapitation the dead bodies were hung from trees. I was apprehensive about believing such things, but they all insisted they saw the bodies, and the government was powerless to stop it.

As long as I don't do something obviously offensive or threatening, I can't imagine any one would target some one as helpless as me. Just in case, I will tell everyone I am Iban for the remainder of the trip.

Maybe if I get my penis pierced they will actually believe me.

I'd rather they just took my skull.

May 5, 2007

Kuala Lumpur (MALAYSIA)

Kuala Lumpur: A City with an Identity of Its Own

Today's post will have to begin with the bats that made sleep hard to come by last night. The first sighting came as I was walking to the shower: I nearly stepped on a baby bat hopping along the floor, unable to fly. I scooped him up with a magazine and laid him on the outside porch, but after lying down in bed for the night I heard the rest of the family above me. And they could fly.

An elderly woman who was also sleeping in the dormitory told me not to turn on the lights because it scares the bats down and they circle the room. She also advised me to switch beds because, apparently, a bat hit the overhead fan and fell onto the face of a Japanese tourist some years back. You don't have to tell me twice.

So, all night I laid in bed listening to the bats flapping their wings in the upper tier of the attic, praying I wouldn't have a bloodied bat come crashing down on me. Sleep is supposed to be relaxing, but looking up into a black void waiting for a bat to shatter my inner peace is not my idea of relaxing.

Anyway, things did not get any better in the morning, and I rose early - partially because the mattress I was sleeping on had bed bugs and partially because, well, the mattress I was sleeping on had bed bugs. At $1.50USD for the night, I felt overcharged.

By 8am I was standing alongside a main road waiting for a public bus headed for the interstate bus terminal. By 9am I had reached the terminal and was boarding a bus bound for Kuala Lumpur. By 11am I was checking into a dormitory, but this one had low ceilings without bats. And hopefully no bed bugs.

My hostel is located in the heart of Chinatown, so that is where I began my tour of Kuala Lumpur (literally: "Confluence of Muddy Waters"). Like Chinatowns all over the world, the district is a tourist hotspot with entire streets devoted to selling knock-off goods on the cheap. I wandered around a bit, but since I don't have room in my pack it always feels pointless looking at the same knick-knacks that are sold in every other big city.

I next moved on to the Petronas Towers by catching the efficient Light Rail Transit (LRT). Unfortunately, one must queue at 8am to have any chance of walking the sky bridge (there is a daily quota), so I contented myself with looking around the 7 story shopping mall at its base and ate lunch at the cafeteria. I don't mind not going up because the building is the most impressive sight in Kuala Lumpur, so it doesn't make sense to take an aerial photo of the city without its inclusion. Besides, there is a higher vantage point I would visit later in the day.

Many of my friends have visited Kuala Lumpur, or KL for short, and they emphasized there is nothing to do except eat and shop. Naturally, I set out to prove them wrong by visiting places off the beaten path. I wanted to find a more rewarding version of KL, which turned out to be a lot easier than I anticipated.

I visited an out-of-the-way Chinese temple that is one of the more impressive I have seen. Personally, I find the gold and red paint, dragons, and oversized incarnations of deities to be somewhat gaudy, but this temple took things so far beyond the realm of normalcy that they managed to pull it off.

The real excitement came as I wandered around behind the temple where a small turtle pond is located. In Chinese Feng Shui, turtles are very auspicious animals that are supposed to bring good fortune and longevity to their owners. Joining me at the pond were two young kids who could only speak Chinese. I had fun practicing my Mandarin with them because it is not as embarrassing making mistakes in front of a child.

Back to the exciting part, though: the Chinese boy hopped over the small enclosure housing the turtles and began playing with them. It wasn't long before tapping them on the shell became boring, and he found it more exciting flinging them across the rock surface into the water. I took video of this because I found it hilarious, and his parents were nowhere to be seen. It is easy to imagine the cracking of shells as the turtles were banged into one another. I have posted the video on youTube.com, but the video can also be found at the end of this post. (Technology is really cool).

** For any who may be worried about the turtles, as indeed I was, none of the turtles were seriously hurt. Most were in their shells by the time he flung them, and I stopped him when he decided to take them airborne. **

As I mentioned, this temple was somewhat out of the way, and the taxi drivers wanted to charge me a lot of money for a ride back into town, so I decided to walk back based on memory. The first 30 minutes went just fine, but then I came across a small river with the nearest bridge nearly a kilometer away. Rather than waste time walking to it, I decided to cross over a small cable wire enclosure.

I had to watch my step because there was only an aluminum cover between me and the high density electrical wires (and the water, for that matter). Other than bloodying my leg as I climbed over the metal fence, which was designed to prevent exactly this sort of activity, I cleared the river just fine.

I bet no tour package itinerary has ever included something like this before, and I must have made quite a sight for any who saw me scurrying across.

I found my way to another LRT station, and rode to the "cultural" section of the city. Kuala Lumpur has a lot to offer, and unlike Singapore it has enough of an edge to keep you on your toes.

At one point during the day I was walking among a group of Muslim woman, who were all fully adorned in traditional clothing, while a sound system was blaring "Move that ASS" from a park across the street.

Islam plays a dominant role in Malaysia, and roughly 50% of the women I passed were wearing traditional attire.

Also, much of the modern architecture embodies evident Islamic influence, which makes the buildings look even more avante guarde. Below are a few examples of KL's impressive structures.

After an afternoon snack, I spent an hour relaxing in the national park, which is directly across the street from the Supreme Court. The weather has been perfect for the second day running, so my ghost-like appearance is finally giving way to something that looks more humanly. Speaking of which, I was called David Beckham on three separate occasions today - usually by young "punks" sitting on railings watching passer-bys! I don't look at all like David Beckham, but similar to how all tall Chinese look like Yao Ming, all Westerners with converging hair look like David Beckham... I don't know if converging is the right word to use, but it has been a long day and it is the best I could come up with.

As the afternoon wore on, I worked my way through Little India and sampled the foods along the road. I still shy away from the smelly fruit, durian, but the Romley Burger I tried was akin to the $0.30 burgers MacDonald's used to offer on Wednesdays in the United States. I don't know if MacDonald's still runs the promotion.

By this time in the day the sun was running out of energy and looked like it was ready to retire for the day. I hurriedly made the two kilometer walk to the imposing KL Tower where I could take in an impressive aerial view for only 20 ringgit. The descending sun made the city more attractive because of the shadows cast, and as I had hoped the Petronas Towers are far better to look at than to climb. Below are some pictures I took of Kuala Lumpur (in case you are like me and never imagined the city was so highly developed).

For my last gasp of the day I decided to do something adventurous. With advice from locals, I rode the LRT into a traditional Malay section of the city. After walking 50 meters outside the LRT station, I realized I was nowhere near the KL most people know: this section of the city has not experienced the dramatic development, and still lives in dreadful public housing and sub-standard conditions. However, the people returned my smiles - even if it was more out of shock than friendliness - and I joined a large crowd at a hawker center serving traditional Malay food. After washing my hands, I joined the queue and scooped white rice, a curried fish, spiced eggplant, and a mystery meat onto my plate. Then, I took my seat amongst the locals and began shoveling the food in my mouth.

I cannot remember the last time so many eyes were on me at once.

After bringing me a few napkins, two of the waiters stood by to chat. Their English was every bit as bad as my Bahasa, but they understood when I told them United States, and they sure as hell understood when I told them (in Bahasa) that "I love Kuala Lumpur and the food is delicious!" This caused laughing from all the surrounding tables, and I felt a great deal of security in this "seedy" district of town. More specifically, I felt like a local.

In retrospect, I am not really sure what I was hoping to accomplish when I decided to visit this part of KL. I suppose part of me wanted to witness the kind of local lifestyle I wouldn't otherwise connect with, and another part of me wanted to feel at home in an environment that is entirely foreign to me. Whatever it was, I found what I was looking for.

By the time I caught the LRT back to Chinatown it was dark out. No matter, my final view of the Petronas Towers was memorable.

I will catch a bus to the airport at 5am tomorrow morning, and by noon I should touch down in Kuching on the western end of Borneo. I don't know what kind of internet connection will be available, so it may be several days before I can post again. If that is the case, you are free to rent the movie Apocalypse Now because the river Charlie Sheen boats up is the same one I will be taking to reach central Borneo. God knows what I will find when I get there, but then, that is exactly why I am going.

Here is the video, as promised. And NO HATE MAIL over the abuse!

** As a small side note, I miss all you friends back in Singapore. For all of you who have written me over the past two days, thank you, it means a lot. **

May 4, 2007

UNITED STATES

A Brother's Prerogative

Maybe it is because she is my sister, but my God Danielle is beautiful. Here are a few pictures before she left for prom last weekend.

I miss you, Dani.

May 4, 2007

Melaka (MALAYSIA)

A Surprisingly Pleasant Day in Melaka

I didn't fall asleep last night until after 3am, but I had lot of ground to cover today so I pulled myself out of bed at 7am. An hour later I was dressed and making photo copies of all my important documents. Two hours later and I was crossing the border from Singapore to Malaysia. With the help of a local girl I met on the public transport, I headed straight for the long-distance bus station so I could continue on to Melaka [Melacca].

I caught a bus at 11am, and arrived in Melaka in the early afternoon. I checked into a small dormitory situated in the attic of an aging building, but for $1.50USD/night I can't really complain - or rather complaining does no good.

I was fairly hungry since my last meal was an early breakfast, so I wandered the city in search of good food. A local shop owner recommended me to a small Indian restaurant where I ordered the special of the day. It turned out to be a mixture of ten vegetables and white rice spread out over a large leaf. After scrubbing my hands in the sink, I began shoveling the food into my mouth. The restaurant owner must have appreciated that I was eating like a local because he brought me iced tea and a free dessert. Surprisingly, it no longer feels strange eating with my hands (at the appropriate places, of course), but I have never adapted to the Indian habit of using water and a hand to clean up after using the toilet. I don't think I would ever be able to look at my left hand the same way again.

After lunch I continued touring the town. Despite its former prominence as the largest trading port in all of Southeast Asia, Melaka never experienced the heavy development found in places like Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Thus, it still has a great deal of old school charm that accumulated over 500 years of foreign rule - from the Portuguese to the Dutch to the British. Much of the town actually reminded me of Macau because of the Portuguese styled buildings and art-deco colors.

Speaking of Macau, I met a couple of girls from Hong Kong who are working at Macau's booming casinos - they are poised to take over Las Vegas in terms of yearly cash flow. They were shocked out of their minds when I spoke Cantonese and Mandarin with them. For every good experience like this there are a million times when I am embarrassed at my inability to properly express myself.

One of the nicer museums I visited displayed the many varieties of Malaysian architecture. From old forts to the famed Petronas Towers to the traditional longhouses, the exhibits were a great deal more interesting than I would have thought. Basically, when Malaysia received independence following World War II, architects were brought in from overseas and given the freedom to use their ingenuity in building a new Malaysia. The end result is a variety of "modern" buildings that are really quite impressive to see. Building construction has always seemed like an interesting field of study, but I can only imagine how much work it must take to design a modern skyscraper.

The other museum I visited today was a lucky find. The building didn't look like anything extraordinary from the outside, and indeed the first two floors contained drab cultural exhibits, but the top floor was devoted to the many forms of "Permanent Body Expression". I was able to read about various tribal practices, their techniques, and the history behind them. Initially, I thought the people must be crazy for doing such things to their bodies, but then I came across one room devoted to tattoos, and another room devoted to the bone deformation caused by corsets.

Below are a few pictures of some of the more interesting pictures.

I spent the dying hours of the afternoon walking the rest of the town, which is small enough in size to maintain a charming feel. A lot of Singaporeans said there isn't much to see in Malaysia ("It's just Malaysia!"), but I really wish I had more time to enjoy Melaka. Maybe the pictures below will give a better feel for the history and feel of this quiet city.

The picture to the left deserves an explanation: Muslims are not allowed to use condoms and Malaysia is primarily Muslim. Whereas Singapore needs a "baby bonus" (financial incentive) to increase the birth rate, the Malaysians are trying to cut down on the birth rates.

Later in the night I walked to the Chinese quarter of the city for the Friday market. Families set up little table in the streets where they sold everything from trinkets to herbal tea to the famous sates (meat on a stick) the city is famous for.

I must give a final word for the Laksa soup I tried as it blows what I tried in Singapore right out of the water. Supposedly, Singapore has some of the best food, but my two meals in Malaysia have been terrific thus far.

I never thought I would understand where people were coming from when they told me Malaysia is worth visiting simply for the variety of foods, but they were absolutely right. Only, there is a hell of lot more to see, also.

I will leave for Kuala Lumpur tomorrow before catching a flight to Borneo on Sunday morning. I will try to post once more before I hit the jungle trails.

May 3, 2007

SINGAPORE

Packing Up My Life

This will be a quick post because I hate days like today - I compressed my life into two suitcases and said goodbye to the world I built over the past four months. I was in a reflective mood today: the last time I spent more than four months in a single place was 2004 when I completed two consecutive semesters at Georgia Tech. That was three years ago. Since then, I have done four to five month stints in Atlanta, Oxford,  Louisville, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Singapore.

In a month I will go to Dalian, China.

In four months I will go to Tokyo.

The life we choose, I suppose. Everything has a price, and nothing worthwhile ever comes cheap.

May 2, 2007

SINGAPORE

European Football, and the Secret to Mastering Exams

Life has been a bit stressful lately, and I had a tough time falling asleep last night. So, at 3am I joined a crowd to watch the thrilling Liverpool-Chelsea Champions League clash at Anfield. After taking the lead midway through the first half - tying the score on aggregate - the game went to extra time, and then to a penalty shootout. It was the first time a Champions League Semifinal has gone to penalty kicks, so it was an historic night that was made better when Chelsea and Jose Mourinho were knocked out of Europe's top competition.

The match ended just before 6am, so I managed to get an hour of sleep for the night. It is a good thing I drank the brainiac tonic, Essence of Chicken, that a friend gave me because today's paper was rough. The extra note to "stay damn awake for your paper tomorrow" was also well thought out.

It is great to be free of academic worries for the next few months, but now I have a new list of logistical issues to contend with. I will cross into Malaysia this afternoon to pick up some last minute travel supplies, and then I have the colossal task of packing up my life.

As a final note, for anyone with a chance to watch Manchester United play AC Milan at the San Siro later today (1945 UK) it should be an open match with plenty of attacking. Hopefully I will have another amazing video to post tomorrow.

May 2, 2007

Johor Bahru (MALAYSIA)

Day Trip to Johor Bahru

After my Circuits and Electronics exam I grabbed a quick bite to eat and showered before meeting several Singaporean friends for  a day trip to Johor Bahru, Malaysia. Singapore and Johor Bahru are only 500 meters apart, but the differences are dramatic: whereas Singapore is now one of the world's most efficient, clean, and well-run cities, Johor Bahru is a backwater by comparison.

Tell people in Singapore you are visiting Johor Bahru and they will reply the same way, "Be careful, they will rob you at gunpoint there! They just don't care there!" Singaporeans are prone to over-exaggerate risks, which is a logical by product of living in a risk-free country. The truth is the dangers of Johor Bahru are no different from any other city, but in my opinion, Singaporeans are ideal targets because they aren't used to being En Garde.

Such fears don't stop Singaporeans from pouring across the border to eat cheap seafood, buy petrol, and smuggle cigarettes or chewing gum back into the compound they fondly call home.

I cleared Singapore customs without any problems, which was a relief because I never completed (or initiated) the process of collecting my student identity card. It isn't often one can pull one over on the draconian government of Singapore, so I am not shy about patting myself on the back for keeping 80 dollars out of the wallets of the politicians.

Singaporean ministers hold the Guinness record for being the highest paid politicians. The government, which recently awarded itself another pay raise (despite the consternation of the populace), argues multi-million dollar paychecks attract top talent from the business world, and high pay means they "don't do corruption." I am apprehensive about going into too many details about this argument for fear of reprisals or lawsuits (it's not a joke in Singapore), but suffice to say there are startling connections between the awarding of government contracts and which politicians are majority shareholders or chairmen on the board.

Enough political talk. Singapore is a world and a half away for most people, and for those who actually live there, well, they already know everything I could write.

Anyway, we re-boarded a public bus and crossed the only public bridge connecting Singapore and Malaysia. The ride was not very exciting, but I did get a glimpse of the enormous pipes that supply roughly half of Singapore's water. This is the half I choose to drink as part of the other half comes from "recycled water." In other words, what goes in must come out, but in Singapore they take this one step farther by putting it back in!

After clearing Malaysian customs, we began walking through the city. I must have been in Singapore for too long because I was somewhat turned off by the grime and trash. We made our way to a shopping mall and looking at backpacks and other travel supplies. I convinced both friends to backpack Europe this summer, and they will be leaving in a little over a week.

There isn't really a whole lot else to say about Johor Bahru, except that the food is "damn good and damn cheap".

We crossed back into Singapore later in the evening and met a friend who was kind enough to cook for us. Between a bottle of wine and a bottle of vodka we celebrated the end of exams, and I stayed up to watch AC Milan dismantle Manchester United in a lopsided affair.

A final note: A common mistake is for people to think Malay is the name of a person from Malaysia, when in fact it is the name of a race. People are easily offended if referred to as a Malay when in fact they are, say, a Chinese living in Malaysia.

May 1, 2007

SINGAPORE

Another Semester Comes to a Close and Travel Plans

At long last a minute to spare. I have my final exam tomorrow morning (Circuits and Electronics), and barring any gross mistakes on my behalf, I will soon pass the threshold into the coveted status of college senior. Whether I graduate in the upcoming year is another matter, as it will will depend on what kind of opportunities come my way between now and then.

Speaking of opportunities, I am still waiting to hear whether I have been selected to study and conduct research in Tokyo this August. While I was one of only five students nominated by Georgia Tech, Tokyo has the final say on which student they select. Fingers crossed it will be me, but I have a sneaky suspicion I am heading back to Georgia Tech in August. Given that I haven't studied on campus since 2005, I suppose returning to Atlanta isn't the worst thing that could happen.

I will be leaving Singapore in a matter of days, so I will move on to matters of travel...

I booked a plane ticket from Manila (Philippines) to Singapore on May 26, but what I do between now and then is still up for debate. My "rough guide" is to visit Malaysia before catching a flight to the untamed jungles of Borneo. After hiking through the jungle and climbing Southeast Asia's tallest mountain, I will visit one of the world's elite oil-rich countries, Brunei. I will continue east from Brunei to the Philippines where I will slowly work my way north along pristine beaches. Then, twelve short hours after I return to Singapore, I will board a flight to Beijing.

I love an open itinerary.

My biggest problem is deciding when to leave Singapore. A part of me feels that "it is time to move on," and another part of me wants to savor what I have found in Singapore. I know nothing is made to last, so the law of probability dictates it is wiser to continuously diversify, but everyone experiences a time when they don't want to leave a good thing behind.

I trust the answer will come to me when the time is right.