Bali: Land of Tradition or Tourism?

I had always wanted to go to Bali. Bali had always seemed to be filled with intrigue, mystery, and a destination that was not on the beaten track. However, much like Borneo it proved to be none of these things. Bali is firmly on the tourist track, unfortunately the "package tourist" track. It is constantly filled with tourists searching for a week of sea and sun with a bit of disinfected culture thrown in. During my travels I had been hearing mixed reviews of Bali from other backpackers, with most of these comments having a rather negative tone. I had even decided not to go to Bali, wanting to skip the "cultural theme park", but upon arrival in Indonesia I decided that I had to find out for myself what this island called Bali was really all about. I will admit that I was lured there with promises of great diving with the strange and rare Mola-Mola (giant quarter-shaped Sun Fish) off of the southeastern coast of Bali. I arrived in Denpasar, Bali in the early morning of August 13th. I was proceeding immediately onward to the town of Ubud in the center of the island by way of local transportation known as bemos (mini-vans). This, however, proved rather difficult as I couldn't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone as to how to go about getting there nor on how much it would cost. It appeared that everyone was out for themselves, looking to overcharge the unknowing tourist and to send her to Ubud by way of someone that they knew rather then give her the real information. Now this was exactly what other travelers had told me about Bali: that Bali possessed some of the worst touts on the Southeast Asian circuit and that everyone was out for themselves. I cringed when I found this to be the truth (at least in Denpasar). I finally got a straight answer from a police officer as to where I needed to change bemos. Once I arrived to the first bemo station to change I found the same problem. "Oh no, we no go to Ubud. We wait for minimum 5 people." Meanwhile, I was clearly the only one heading to Ubud. So the local price for this ride should have been 5,000 rupiah (roughly 50 cents) and I was repeatedly being quoted prices of 60,000 rupiah upwards. After waiting around a good half hour and succumbing to tears of frustration (I know, I know, so silly), I finally agreed to a shockingly overpriced "private" bemo ride the 45 kilometers to Ubud. Aiaiaiaiai! The frustrations of being taken advantage of! Upon arriving into Ubud I was bombarded by people trying to sell me a room. I rather successfully ignored them and made my own way to look for somewhere to stay. I found a lovely 2 story Bali-style bungalow for around $12 a night (expensive for Indonesia, well-priced for Bali) complete with an open lounging area below and an open-air bathroom surrounded by jungle plants and flowers. I went back out into town hoping for a more peaceful experience than the morning provided.

The amazing thing about Bali is that no matter how many tourists there are or how corrupted the locals appear in regards to these tourists there still remains an enormous concentration on their faith, traditions, and ceremonies. The day I arrived in Ubud was the night of the half moon. The Balinese mark this day by placing little corn husk boxes filled with rice and flowers along the streets and temples. These little parcels are continuously being stepped on by careless tourists but they are repeatedly replaced by the locals and are a beautiful testament to the quotidian rituals still followed in Bali. Everywhere in Ubud I was constantly aware of a shopkeeper going outside to light incense for a particular deity or of a woman balancing a large offering of fruit on her head headed to the nearest temple or of a young boy wearing a traditional Balinese headdress following behind his mother witnessing the magnificence in the everyday. Ubud is by far the best place to visit in Bali if one is interested in partaking in local ceremonies and demonstrations. I often shun performances showcasing local ceremonies that are put on solely for tourists as lacking in the beauty and vividness one witnesses when watching a "real" ceremony, but in Ubud it was quite different. Yes, many of the performances were put on for the sole benefit of the onlooking tourists, but these ceremonies still managed to captivate the audience through the absorbing performances given by the actors who appeared to genuinely enjoy their roles rather than just to be going through the motions (as so often happens with nightly performances given to tourists). I also was lucky enough to be in Ubud during an evening of local ceremonies put on by locals for locals. Naturally I had no idea it was happening and just happened upon it and I still have no idea what it was for, though I do know that it started around 9pm and lasted until well past 2am! I only lasted until about midnight, but was able to watch a number of different performances including the beautiful Balinese dancing and a type of skit with men in animal costumes who eventually become entranced with the spirit and rather seem to go a bit crazy. This was a bit unnerving as the entire area was covered with people (mostly locals dressed in fantastic traditional clothing) sitting, watching the festivities and when this man fell into a trance he began yelling and screaming and fairly thrashing about causing everyone in the vicinity (including myself) to jump up and move back, naturally bumping into a million people along the way. Of course, I had no idea that he was in a trance and just thought that he was having a rough time (and being quite rude about it too!). But then some young boy enlightened me as to what was really going on and recommended that I take a few steps backwards from the scene. After all the mayhem, the rest of the ceremony (or rather the parts that I saw) were beautiful in the way that the Balinese maintained such a concentrated amount of passion and intensity for their gods and were able to communicate these feelings into the audience.

A rather quirky fact about Bali is that there are only 4 names given to people when they are born. The names are the same for male or female and they represent the birth order of the children. The names in order are: Wayan, Made (pronounced MAH-DAY), Nyoman, and Ketut. Since there would naturally arise some confusion with everyone having the same names everyone also has a nickname. After a few days of asking people, "What's your name?", I realized that it was much easier to just guess which of the four it might be. And for those of you wondering what happened if a family had more than four children, they just started over so it was quite common to have two Wayan's or Made's in one family. Crazy, no? I was never able to find out the reason behind the four names since as far as I know there is no Hindu belief behind it and it is only reserved to the island of Bali and not greater Indonesia.

Yet another tradition practiced in Bali is the practice of turning off all of the island's electricity, including that of the 5 star resorts, for three whole days in February. This act is thought to appease the evil volcano spirits that inhabit the island, thus ensuring a non-volcanic year. Though what is done for the tsunami, hurricane, and typhoon spirits is beyond me.

After four ceremony and shopping-for-local-handicrafts filled days in Ubud I left for the island of Nusa Lembongan off of the southeastern coast of Bali. Nusa Lembongan is still part of Bali proper and thus follows all of the same customs and traditions. I went to this particular island to go scuba diving hoping to see the fabled Mola-Mola (Pacific Sun Fish). Well, the Mola-Mola didn't make an appearance, but I did get to swim once more with Manta Rays, and it is always such an exhilarating experience swimming with these gentle giants. Nusa Lembongan exemplifies the ways in which the Balinese have managed to maintain their traditional lifestyles despite the constant barrage of modern-day tourism. 90% of all income generated on Nusa Lembongan comes from the cultivation of seaweed. Each family has a plot of seafloor on which they grow either white or green seaweed. When the seaweed is fully grown, it is plucked from the ocean, and laid out on large palettes placed all over the island to dry. The result is a very fishy smelling island, making sunbathing rather unpleasant. The majority of the dried seaweed is then sold to Japan for use in soaps, toothpastes, and food products. What is interesting about this seaweed venture is that the locals seem uninterested in tourism, at a time when most islands are abandoning their traditional ways of life in order to try their hand at the tourism industry. At first I was rather put off by the stink of the drying seaweed, but I was soon able to appreciate the fortitude the locals possess in order to continue life in this way.

I then proceeded to the small town of Tulamben on the eastern coast of the island of Bali to dive the fabled "Liberty Wreck", a US Navy cargo boat sunk several decades ago. Generally, I do not like diving wrecks as I am more attracted to swimming with fish and other underwater creatures. However, the reason the Liberty Wreck is so fantastic is that it is home to giant schools of barracuda and swirling jackfish, schools of giant sea-green Bumphead Parrotfish with rows of giant white teeth used for chomping fresh coral, several varieties of the smaller creatures under the sea such as warty frogfish, anemone shrimp, crabs, and soft and hard corals. I had planned to dive the wreck only two times and call it a day, but it was so wonderful that I ended up diving it four times. Each dive was technically at the same site, but since I never saw the same creatures twice they all seemed so unique. Please refer to my Picasa website for photos of these underwater animals.

I ended my time in Bali in the town of Kuta. Kuta is known for surfing, sunbathing, and drinking the night away. This was somewhere that I had desperately wanted to avoid, but since I had a very early flight the following morning and Kuta is a mere 10 minutes away from the airport I was destined to spend at least one night there. I arrived in the late afternoon to search the backpacker zone for a decent room. If any of you reading this has ever been to Koh San Road in Bangkok you will completely understand that Kuta is exactly the same, I even felt I was in Thailand (complete with old lecherous western men with very young local girls)! Small, narrow alleyways were filled with dingy, musty, dark hotel rooms which I couldn't bear to spend even one night in. The streets were also filled with scores of cheap restaurants and bars specializing in shoddy backpacker food and cheap beer. I finally found a decent place with a nice pool, took a swim, and then headed for the infamous Kuta beach. It was just as I had suspected: sardine-like packed beachfront filled with rows of surfboards, touts selling everything from seashells to tattoos, and barely dressed tourists basking in the late afternoon sun. The backdrop to this scene was the busiest street in Bali lined with Dunkin' Donuts, McDonalds, Starbucks, and other sad emblems of the United States. Yuck! I am so glad that I did not spend more than 5 minutes there!

Overall, Bali was pretty much what I had expected: a rather bizarre mixture of tradition and tourism, with just enough myth to keep it alluring.

Sulawesi, Indonesia

What do you think of when you think of Indonesia? Tsunami, terrorism, Bali, le exotique, sambal? Well, all of these adjectives and nouns are correct, but please do add: enormous, gorgeous, scuba diving, Nasi Goreng-national dish of rish, eggs, shrimp chips, and spicy sambal, "Bali is touristy but nowhere else is", becak-the Indonesian version of the bicycle rickshaw, slow internet, smiles, "Hello, transport?", "Where u from", and "bagus"-awesome- to your repertoire of Indonesian phrases and thoughts.


I arrived at the pathetically under-equipped Jakarta International Airport at 7 am on August 1st. I then booked a flight later that same day to go to the very northern tip of Sulawesi, that strangely shaped island surrounded by three (!) different seas just to the south of Borneo. I had heard of some fantastic diving out there and was anxious to get into the water. After a grueling day in the airport and an exorbitant rate paid at a shoddy hotel I soon found myself on the island of Bunaken at Two Fish Divers dive resort. My bungalow was lovely and I was once again surrounded by people who were there for nothing else but diving. Divers are a strange bunch, spending loads of money to put on crazy amounts of awkward gear to sink to the bottom of the ocean to peer at creatures not meant to be peered at. Also, as in any other sport, divers tend to be rather competitive with each other. An example: Diver A: "How many dives have you got?" Diver B: "Oh, I'm not sure. (though he knows exactly) Maybe about 200." A: "Well, I just dived Sipadan. (one of the top 10 sites in the world)" B: Me too and I saw 100 turtles and tons of sharks." A: "Well, I saw Hammerheads, man. A whole school of them at 60 meters." B:" You went to 60 meters man?! That's awesome." And the conversation will continue in this vein until you want to remind them that the reason one dives is to see the strange underwater creatures and not to see who goes the deepest or who has the most dives. Well, at least that's why I dive....Sorry, I seem to have gotten off track.

Anyway, I did 6 dives at Bunaken which were lovely, filled with amazing coral and strange nudi branches - my favorite underwater creatures. But, I was unprepared for the fascinating dives awaiting me in an area just east of Bunaken known as the Lembeh Straight. The Lembeh Straight is a narrow bit of water in an extremely volcanic area (isn't all of Indonesia volcanic?) with no coral beds and, instead of the typical white sand we are all used to, there is thick, crunchy black sand. This sand makes a perfect hiding spot for a myriad of bizarre and rare sea creatures. Normally, when one does enough dives one comes to expect a certain number of constants to appear. Namely, white sand, a slight current, coral, fish, and a rather random sprinkling of moray eels, nudi branches, and some sea horses if you're really lucky. Lembeh totally goes against all of these constants and gives divers only one: continuous surprises. Every dive was fantastic since I knew I would find at least one creature I had never seen before and Lembeh was full of firsts. The first time I saw a banded sea snake, the first time I saw a ribbon eel, the first time I saw a pygmy seahorse (only 8mm!!!), or an octopus, or a squid, a flamboyant cuttlefish, a common cuttlefish, such an array of strange nudi branches, fire urchins, giant angler fish (who actually have a fishing line out of their mouth!), etc., etc. I know that most of you have no idea what I'm talking about, but all of these creatures are surprisingly uncommon and incredibly fascinating. I will put up photos of these animals as soon as possible so you will all have a better idea what the hell I'm talking about!

After more than a week of diving I decided that it was also important to explore what culture Sulawesi had to offer on land. In southern Sulawesi is the valley known as Tana Toraja. It is rather (well) known among tourists that the Torajans hold bizarre funeral festivals during the months of July through September and that they wholly welcome onlookers and guests at these celebrations. Well, since it is a funeral it's not exactly a celebration, but pretty close. I arrived to Tana Toraja on my birthday (August10th) very early in the morning. I found a lovely hotel with separate bungalows shaped in the traditional boat-shaped Torajan homes. Immediately after ordering a thick, black Indonesia coffee I met some other travelers who were headed to a funeral just about to begin. Since it was my birthday I didn't really want to attend a somber funeral, but then I wasn't sure the next time I would have the opportunity to do so. I gulped down the burning java and headed out with the others, not entirely sure what to expect. I knew that there would be slaughtering of animals (namely buffalo), strange ceremonies, and a lot of locals in attendance. Let me give you some background information on what these Torajan ceremonies are all about. The Torajans are predominantly Christina (Lutheran) due mainly to the influx of missionaries around the turn of the century. As with many other religious conversions, the Torajan did not completely give up their old beliefs and traditions and have since blended both religions quite smoothly. The funerals are based on their original animist religion known as "Aluk To Dolo" or "Way of the Ancestors". There are four classes-village heads, nobles, commoners, and slaves- in Torajan society and only the top two are allowed to have the elaborate funerals as we tourists know them today. This is mainly due to the fact that it is required that the family of a village head slaughters 34 buffalo and those of nobles must slaughter 28. Buffalo range anywhere from $100 each and upward, thus making it virtually impossible for the lower classes to afford this. Perhaps the only positive about the massive slaughterings is that the meat is given to all the locals in the neighboring villages and nothing is wasted. It is thought that the buffalo's spirit accompanies the deceased into the afterlife. Because of this, the buffalo is not completely killed when slaughtered yet allowed to bleed to death so the spirit has enough time to find the deceased person. Great importance is placed on the slaughtering of the rare albino buffalo and thus these animals are much sought after during funeral times. An effigy, known as a "tau-tau", of the deceased is carved upon their death. These effigies can only be made form 2 types of wood, again both very expensive. The body, upon death, is placed into an elaborately carved and painted coffin and held at their home until the auspicious burial months, between July and September. Therefore, if someone dies in October they are embalmed for preservation until the summer. Traditionally, bodies were buried with their material possessions for use in the afterlife. Due to a rise in grave robbings (much like in Egypt), Torajans have had to abandon this practice.

We arrived shortly after 8 in the morning just before the first buffalo slaughtering began. Today, on the last day of the ceremonies, only 4 buffalo were due to be sacrificed. I stayed well away from the slaughtering sight and watched from a distance. To be honest it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, considering that this was the first time I had ever seen an animal killed. I thought that there would be a lot of screaming on the part of the buffalo, but for the most part they all died in silence. However, it was anything but peaceful. Since the men only sliced their throats once, the buffalo were left to thrash and bleed to death. The buffalo were all tied to the same tree for this ceremony and after slicing the last one's throat it managed to yank itself loose. With blood gushing from the gash in its throat it went charging into the surrounding crowd. Naturally, all members of the crowd quickly parted and the men went racing after the poor beast. Since it was bleeding profusely the buffalo didn't get far, but I have to give it props for getting loose in the first place! After the slaughterings were finished the buffalo were just left there, in a blood of their own blood, for the rest of the morning- no one even went to clean them off. All in all a rather disturbing experience. This whole time, the body within its coffin had been waiting on a ceremonial balcony and had just been brought down to ground level. It was then placed within an elaborate wooden structure shaped like a Torajan house (that in turn is shaped like a boat). The immediate family, dressed all in black, had meanwhile gathered around the coffin and begun to wail terribly. You know those videos from Iraq showing the dead bodies with the women screaming their heads off nearby? Well, it was exactly like that since they share the same belief that wailing for the deceased proves how much one loved them in life. Thus, whomever wails the loudest obviously loved them the most. After the wailing was finished, the immediate family (about 30 so people) all joined hands in a circle around the coffin and began dancing and singing. Soon after, they transported the body to the local burial ground. Choosing not to follow, I went off in the other direction for a fantastic fish lunch.

The following day I went to a Torajan wedding. Strangely enough it didn't seem that much different from the funeral (granted minus the wailing and the dead buffalo). The wedding was of the highest class, for 2 children of 2 village headsmen. The first part of the ceremony was the traditional Christian ceremony taking place in a church with both the bride and the groom wearing Western dress. This part of the ceremony consisted of only the couple's close family and friends. The procession then proceeded to an elaborately decorated open field filled with tents of various opulence where all the locals were situated. All the poor locals were at the far end of the field with little for shelter expect a tent while the upper-classes were either given plastic chairs or their own balcony. All the tourists were placed together under an awning with plastic seats. There were buffets laden with tasty local specialties along with liberal drinking of rice wine going on all around. Most attendees were wearing traditional Indonesian or Torajan dress, so I felt rather under dressed in my sandals and t-shirt. Upon arrival of the wedding couple, they were greeted with traditional chanting in their local dialect by the local shaman and then promptly changed into traditional Torajan wedding dress (much more beautiful than the gaudy Western version!). Then the couple reappeared on the dais and shook the hands of all in attendance (and there were at least 500 people!). I left shortly after this part as the rest was a bit boring since I couldn't understand their language. It is amazing to me how at both their funerals and their weddings, the Torajans have no problems with tourists attending. I know that I wouldn't want any poorly dressed, gawking tourist with a huge camera at my wedding, let alone my funeral! But, at least in this way, we are able to learn more about their interesting culture and in turn, shed a positive light on it and help to keep it alive.

I have more to say on Tana Toraja but I really want to post this because I just posted the photos that go along with it, so I might be adding more to this in the near future. Sorry if seems cut off (which it kinda is).

Clean, Classy, Cosmopolitan Singapore

Singapore was everything that everyone thinks it will be: supremely clean, extremely organized and orderly, every one follows all the rules, and no one would even think of breaking one. Singapore has the best public transportation of any city I've visited yet, the cleanest streets with rubbish bins on every corner, plenty of pedestrian crossings (in which no one would ever dare cross unless it was a green walking man), and, most importantly, the best food markets yet. Singapore was also the only city that I have visited so far in which I could imagine myself living. It has a perfect blend of the exotic about it (being smack in the middle of Southeast Asia) yet with enough theaters, museums, restaurants, and cultural events in it to make it feel livable. I spent a total of 4 nights and 5 days in Singapore eating, going to the opera and museums, and strolling around window shopping (which was admittedly very difficult) in the many malls which grace Singapore's sidewalks.

My very posh hostel was located in Little India and so I ate Indian breakfast - an egg and onion prata (like a roti) and a Masala tea (think Chai) - at the Tekka food market down the street from me every morning. After the 2nd morning, I was a regular and no longer needed to place my order since they remembered me already: so nice for such a big city. The food markets in Singapore are singularly special throughout Asia due to the fact that they are enforced to follow health codes, are all regularly checked by the Health Police, and the food hawkers all have their own permanent stands within a specific market, rather than (like in most of Asia) being able to move about as they please. The only exception to this rule are the ice cream hawkers who roam the streets on rickshaws. These hawkers sell Singaporean ice cream sandwiches, using actual white bread, and consistently selling out of the Durian flavored one. Naturally, I tried one and thought it was lovely, though perhaps brown bread would have been a healthier choice! Singapore is so food obsessed that there is even a website rating the various food markets around the city, http://www.makansutra.com/. "Makan" means food and this website was most helpful in planning out my daily food jaunts throughout the city. In the end, I always meandered back to Little India where I found the food to be consistently the best and the spiciest.

Since I had just gotten my tattoos before coming to Singapore, this was a perfect city in which to heal them. Everywhere in Singapore is heavily air-conditioned, including all buses and stations. One could literally never go outside in Singapore if one wasn't inclined to, but instead walk from one attached mall to another on endless days of shopping. But, alas, Singapore is expensive. With the pithy exchange rate of $1,5 Singapore dollars to $1 US and with prices to match those of America I really had to watch my budget. The one thing that I did splash out on was seeing an opera at the world famous "Esplanade" Theatre. Architecturally controversial, it is shaped like a giant silver Durian, it has first rate theatres and sound quality, and made for a perfect night at the opera. I saw "Le Figaro", a modern version of the classic, "The Barber of Seville". I am a traditionalist though, and as good as the opera was, I still prefer the old-fashioned costumes and subtitles.

I spent the rest of my days eating, wandering through the Orchid and Botanical Gardens, spotting friendly orangutans at the world-class Singapore Zoo, and eating some more.

Singapore is filled with ex-pats living and working and one could really see how easy the transition to life in that city would be. Singapore is on par with every other modern city I have been to, including those in America and Europe. It is positioned perfectly to make short holidays throughout Asia feasible and it is a perfect holiday destination in its own right. If my budget hadn't already been deteriorating at an alarming rate I would have stayed longer, but instead I was forced to move on to another large and cosmopolitan city: Kuala Lumpur.

Arriving in a downpour to Kuala Lumpur via a night train from Singapore was quite a cultural shock. It was impossible to reach my hostel via public transport without multiple changes nor was it possible to make the taxi drivers use their meters. Since my options were walking without a map in the pouring rain or hiring a taxi, I went with the latter and hoped that I wouldn't have to pay too much. I spent 3 days in KL which was enough. The streets were not quite littered in trash, but there was plenty of it to be a surprise after Singapore. Also, the people didn't speak nearly as much English as the Singaporeans and I got so lost on my first day that I was crying out of frustration and no one could readily tell me where I needed to go. So in the end I got a cab back to my hostel where I was forced to pay an exorbitant rate for my so-called "luxury" taxi. Yeah, right! The one fantastic thing in KL worth visiting is the remarkably beautiful Islamic Museum housing a range of Islamic artifacts from Korans to textiles to architectural pieces. Each exhibit featured English and Bahasa Malay information plates as well as copious historical and background information on each piece. Very informative and a lovely respite from the terrible heat and humidity of the city.

Needless to say I was looking forward to the day in which I departed for Indonesia, where I am now. I have been here for three weeks now and I do apologize for the lack blogging in the recent past, but Internet in Indonesia is truly terrible and it's taken me this whole time just to find a place reasonably fast enough to download this page! I promise to blog my heart the rest of this trip. Also, I will update my Picasa photo site when I return to Thailand in the beginning of September.

Another side note, I'm going home mid-September due to lack of funds and the fact that I think 6 months has been more than enough time for the places I have seen and the things that I have accomplished. I now know where I would like to come back to and where I have seen enough, which places have particularly struck my fancy and which places I was itching to leave, and where the best dive sites, food markets, and shopping is.

Sarawak, Borneo Malaysia

Sarawak is the other half that makes up Malaysian Borneo, located on the western side of the island. Did you know that Borneo is the third biggest island in the world after Greenland and New Guinea? I just learned that interesting little fact today. And after traveling around just a fraction of it I can see why it makes it into this category. Unfortunately, I had to limit my navigation of Borneo to the Malaysian version as Indonesia does not grant visas at land border crossings into Kalimantan (Indonesian Borneo) and I just don't see the point of flying to Singapore to just fly right back, do you? In the end, I spent 2 very eventful weeks in Sarawak, basing myself in the extremely charming city of Kuching. "Kuching" means "cat" in Malay and so the city has monopolized on this fact and there are gaudy cat statues in every square and there is even a giant cat museum (claiming to be the first of its kind in the world) displaying everything from mummified cats to cat statuary to Hello Kitty mementos. Well worth a giggle if one is looking to kill some time.

I came to Kuching with 2 friends and a plan (shocking I know): to attend the 10th annual Borneo Rainforest World Music Festival held in the Sarawak Cultural Village. The location could not have been more perfect: traditional tribal houses and lush, heavy mountains surrounding us, and just 40 minutes from the city. This was my first world music fest and I was looking forward to listening to music from Italy, Borneo, Zimbabwe, Afghanistan, Madagascar, and Mongolia, among others. And I was not disappointed. Each afternoon the festival held several workshops in the tribal longhouses featuring various musical groups, dance moves, or instruments in which the audience and the musicians actively interacted. These workshops were the highlight of the festival for me as they were very intimate affairs in which we were able to learn so much about music from another culture's point of view. The evenings were filled with jamming of various degrees by at least 8 different musical groups a night from all over the world; I couldn't stop grooving the whole time. The best group of the entire event was hands-down "Huun Hur Tu", Mongolian throat singers. The range of their voices and their immense skill with both throat and traditional string instruments sent shivers down my spine! I bought the CD which I'll be sure to share with all of you when I get home, which , by the way will be shortly before Halloween. I know, I know, I keep changing my mind, but I'm pretty sure this is the final date. Back to my story: over all 3 days I had been lucky enough to randomly run into many of the performers and so on the last night we were invited to the musicians after-party at their hotel. We returned with the Zimbabweans and sat around the pool with well over 30 musicians from around the world listening to music, dancing, speaking Italian and Spanish until well past dawn. This is something that would not have been possible in the states and made this festival particularly special.

After 3 entire days of drinking, dancing, eating, and having a thoroughly fantastic time I decided it was time to attend to seeing some of this Borneo jungle I kept hearing about. With Johnny and Sophie (my concert companions) having already departed, I met 2 lovely Australians with whom I did some jungle trekking and monkey spotting. We went to Bako National Park, a mere 30 minutes outside of the city, for some day hiking and with the hope of spotting the elusive Proboscis Monkey. Bako National Park is bordered on all sides by beaches and mangrove forests and so the only approach is by boat. Having been told that the most opportune time to spot the Proboscis was the late afternoon we hadn't planned on seeing them so quickly, but we were just so lucky! As we hopped off the boat and made our way around the mangroves to begin our first hike of the day we spotted a female munching on young mangrove leaves just under our noses, while her baby ran around her being a show-off! In total, we probably spotted over 6 adults just carrying on their business while we sat and stared. This was the first time that I had ever seen monkeys in the wild and not in a zoo or wildlife reserve so it was pretty awesome. The rest of the day was spent trudging under the hot sun, dodging mischievous, wild long-tailed macaques, sweating through every piece of clothing, and generally enjoying our jungle experiences.

The following day, not having been monkeyed-out yet, we went to the Semenggoh Orangutan Sanctuary, also conveniently located just 30 minutes outside of the city. This is a sanctuary devoted to the prosperity of wild or rescued orangutans. The orangutans live wild in the jungle and occasionally come into the center for free fruit when they are feeling lazy. This is when, if one is lucky, they are able to spot these magnificent creatures. We were lucky. Immediately upon entering the sanctuary the dominant male, Richie (27 years old and 110 kg) was munching on bananas, coconuts, and yams, while a mom and baby (!) were round the corner rustling up their own bananas. Soon there were over 7 orangutans eating nearby. This peaceful scene was not to last, however, as it is Orangutan mating season. Suddenly, we heard orangutans calling from all corners of the jungle and Richie went charging off into the jungle. Apparently, these calls were the mating calls of inferior males and Richie was having none of it. After waiting around for a bit longer we decided to leave. We made it back to the car park where, in fact, all the action was happening. We saw a female with her baby climbing through the branches, practically running for her life, while Richie was alternately cornering her or his opponent. This went on for several nail-biting minutes (with me rooting for the female) when unexpectedly the female made a break for it, crashing through the trees, clutching onto her offspring, landing in the car park, and lumbering off into the opposite side of the jungle. Richie, torn between pursuit of the female or his enemy, hesitated a moment too long and the other male went crashing out the other side. Left alone, Richie decided to hunt down the female and was soon to be seen lumbering down the side street after her. Though definitely a bit violent and macho, this was a most exhilarating scene to witness as they were behaving like the wild orangutans they are!

Another fascinating event that happened during my time here in Sarawak was getting tattooed in the traditional style. Thanks go to Anthony Bourdain for giving me this idea. Several months before I departed for this trip I was obsessed with reading and watching anything to do with Southeast Asia and I was particularly fond of his series, "No Reservations", which mixes food, travel, culture, and his personal brand of pessimism. Anyway, he did a show on Malaysia featuring the culture of the Iban tribe of Borneo, Malaysia. After learning about the tribal tattoos I randomly came across other programs about them and became intrigued. Long having wanted a tattoo, I always hesitated as nothing seemed to be meaningful enough for me to want it forever tattooed on my body. When I came to Sarawak, I knew that these tattoos were for me as traditionally Iban tattoos signify one's life journeys and each tattoo communicates a specific journey in the life of that person. I found a wonderful Iban tattoo artist named Ernesto who makes tattoos in the traditional manner, that is without an electric tattoo gun. Instead, the tattoo is hammered into the skin with an ink-soaked needle in a very steady and slow way. The resulting tattoo tends to be a bit less defined and a bit lighter in color than a modern tattoo, but after all, it is done by hand. I decided on 4 different tattoos: 2 traditional tattoos and 2 of my own creation. On the side of each ankle I had 2 little men tattooed which are common figures found in the Ikat textile weavings woven by the women of the tribe. Since I am an avid textile collector I thought that these little guys would be perfect. On my lower back I had 2 eggplant flowers placed on either side of my spine. The flower symbolizes one's life journey with the central spiral being one's life line. Two flowers are necessary to display the balance in one's life. Traditionally, these would be placed on the front shoulders of a boy between the ages of 13 and 15 before his first solo journey into the jungle. However, since I live in 21st century America I thought that they would be better placed on my back. And, no, they did not hurt too terribly! Whatever pain I endured has now been forgotten and well worth the effort!

I have just arrived in the clean, cosmopolitan city of Singapore where I will be for the next four days. Please await the soon-to-be-published Singapore edition of this blog!

Sabah, Borneo Malaysia

Borneo: this simple name evokes the legends of the Headhunters, blowpipe hunting deep in the unforgiving jungle, bizarre tribal tattoo ceremonies, and a land undiscovered and unblemished by the modern age of tourism. Well, at least that's what the word "Borneo" evoked for me. I was right about most of these cliches: all have proved true, all except the land free of tourism. So far, I have been to Cambodia: Land of Angkor Wat, Vietnam: Land of Pho, Thailand: Land of Pad Thai and Temples Galore, The Philippines: Land of Fantastic Island Paradises, and Laos: Land of, well, Laos. All of these countries (perhaps with the exception of Laos) have been firmly on the tourist trail for years and Malaysia gets only a fraction of the tourists that these other Asian countries see, but nowhere has been as fully booked (in every sense of this term) as Borneo Malaysia. The jungle was booked, the islands were booked, the scuba-diving was booked, the Turtle Island was booked, the mountain (and who ever heard of a mountain being booked?!) was booked. All of these veritable destinations have been booked by adventure seeking and better planned tourists for up to six months (six months!) in advance. And then there's me. Me, who didn't even know she was headed to Borneo until a week ago. Me, who is a hopeless wanderer, never knowing whether to stay put or move ahead. Me, who is far too unorganized and spontaneous to actually commit to a hotel reservation let alone book a mountain. So, here I am in Borneo having accomplished only one of the many things I had planned to do while in Sabah. Naturally, I had planned to do everything possible: climb Mt. Kinabalu (the highest mountain in Southeast Asia), jungle trek for at least 3 leech filled nights spotting wild Proboscis Monkeys along the way, scuba dive off the shark and turtle filled waters of Sipadan Island, feed the friendly Orangutans at the Sepilok Orangutan Sancutary, and witness the scurrying of thousands of baby turtles into the sea from Turtle Island. Naturally, everything is booked well into August.
But, I try to look on the bright side of every situation placed before me on this crazy adventure and I have had some fabulous times while here, namely via food and scuba diving. I did manage to squeeze my way into some highly coveted dive spots at Sipadan Island: considered by Jacques Cousteau to be one of the best dive sights in the world. I admit, I have to agree with good ole' Jacques. Sipadan, the only oceanic island in Malaysia is nestled firmly off of Borneo's eastern coast in the Celebes Sea. Favored with exceptionally clear waters, well-protected and healthy coral reef systems, and hundreds of schooling barracudas, Big-eye Trevally, giant Grouper, White-tipped Reef Sharks, and Greenback Sea Turtles, the waters off of Sipadan are some of the best dive sights I've ever dived before. With each dive you are virtually guaranteed to see dozens of all the above mentioned sea life as well as a variety of other creatures: blue-spotted sting rays, moray eels, multi-colored nudi branches, crocodile, scorpion, stone, and frog fish. I did a total of 6 dives at Sipadan Island and 3 dives off of Mabul diving, best for macro-diving (looking for the small stuff). I could have easily done more had my budget and the availability allowed. I fortified my dive trips with great veggie curry and Indian roti canai (unleavened bread similar to naan) and fresh orange juices and sweetened local coffee and tea.
After leaving Sipadan, I got the heavenly plush (and you know I mean it after all of the styles of transport I've endured over the past 3 months) 10 hour bus back north to the capital of Sabah, Kota Kinabalu, known to locals as KK. I planned to head straight to Mt. Kinabalu to try my luck at there being a mountain cancellation. The problem with the mountain is that it is a 2 day hike, requiring a night at Laban Rata (the mid-point of the mountain). At Laban Rata accommodation is extremely limited and there are always scores more people vying for the official 140 spots. I arrived Monday morning to rather ski lodge-like hostel accommodation at the bottom of the mountain and put my name on the waiting list. I then spent the next 3 days enduring bite-like cold, blustery winds, and torrential rains, watching my chances of climbing Mt. Kinabalu steadily declining. Somehow I tend to bring rain with me. It was such inclement weather that those climbers who had already made it halfway were forced to turn around as it was unsafe to climb to the summit and those still at the bottom were forced to wait another day. I decided that the mountain was not meant to be and as the food wasn't all that great I decided to head back to KK, where I am now.
KK, is a very manageable city with more 24 hour restaurants than all of Kansas City and Lawrence combined. Also, the quality of the food served at these establishments is far more desirable. There are Chinese restaurants, Halal Muslim restaurants (serving no pork), Western restaurants, coffee chops, and food stands all open for the hungry and thirsty 24 hours a day. If I could stretch my stomach ever wider I would sample these establishments round the clock. Unfortunately, I am restricted by my size and can only support 3 rounded meals a day plus a couple of mid-meal snacks. Yesterday, for example, I had Nasi Lemak-banana leaf-wrapped coconut-scented rice with chili paste, cucumbers, dried anchovies, and peanuts- with a condensed milk-sweetened coffee for breakfast, a roti canai with yellow curry dipping sauce for a snack, the best bowl of Chicken Curry Laksa-wide-noodle soup with a curried broth filled with beansprouts, chunks of chicken and tofu, chili paste, lime and cilantro-I've ever tasted, and a whole fresh (it was alive when I ordered it) Tilapia fried in sweet and sour sauce served with a side of garlic and chili enhanced greens. I did share that last meal with Lisette, my lovely new Dutch friend.
Lis has been my traveling companion for practically the whole time in Sabah. She is the first woman I have traveled with so far and it has been great to finally get some "girl-time" in complete with all the gossip and silliness associated with girl-time. Lis recently spent 4 months deep in the Taman Negara jungle teaching English and so speaks beautiful Malay and was able to teach me all I could hope to learn about the many forms of Malay food and culture. Unfortunately, she left today for Bangkok and then back to Holland so we where unable to continue traveling together, but hopefully we'll be able to meet up again sometime soon!
I am now patiently whiling away the hours until I catch my early evening flight to Kuching in Sarawak Borneo, on the other side of Borneo Malaysia. Fortunately, Sarawak features all of the above-mentioned activities but with a fraction of the tourists. Hopefully, and perhaps with just a little bit of planning, I will be able to experience some of these fascinating places after all. But first I am headed to Kuching to attend a 3 day music and culture festival held annually at the Sarawak Cultural Village. The Borneo Rain forest Festival fills its days with workshops as varied as blow-pipe making and tribal dancing and its nights with musical performances from bands from as near as Borneo to as far away as England and Poland. I'll be going with a friend, Jonny, whom I met in The Philippines and who I randomly bumped into again here in KK (funny how often that happens!) so it should be a very culturally enriching 3 days!
Will write more after the fact, but first I'm going to enjoy another of those curry laksa's! Again, thanks for reading!

The Visayas

Ahhhhhh....the beauty of those crystal clear Philippine waters was magnificent and just beckoned one to jump right in (which I did everyday). I flew from Puerto Princesa to the city of Cebu on the island of Cebu. I spent a cockroach filled night in a city that is only slightly less crazy than Manila at a mall watching Ocean's Thirteen, the first cinema experience of my trip. Before the film started we all had to stand up and sing along to the Philippino national anthem! The next day, I awoke super early to catch a bus to the tiny island of Malapascua, off the northern tip of Cebu. I must be cursed as far as Filipino buses go since this one got a flat tire as well, yet despite this, we managed to make it to the port town of Maya only 1 hour later than the estimated 4 hour time. I then bartered to purchase the local (not foreigner) price to board the little fishing boat to take us the half an hour journey to Malapascua. I met Billy (a "wee" Irishman) on board and we decided to split a lovely (if overpriced) bungalow right smack on the beach. I then showered off the days travel grit and headed to the floating bar located just out to sea where it was happy hour. I met another few travelers who had already been on the island for a few days and knew some good dive spots and so decided to go diving with them the following day. We dove with DiveLink with Danny as our guide. I hadn't properly dived for some time and so was a bit anxious setting out, though not as anxious as I was soon to be. I knew that there was a reported current in this area where we were diving, but generally when doing a "Drift Dive" one swims with the current (using it as a propeller) rather than against it. We swam straight down against the current with no line and so I was flapping around trying to orientate myself while Danny was down there chasing after me so I didn't disappear into the depths. Finally I righted myself and we swam on seeing lovely sea creatures along the way: baby white-tipped reef sharks, sting rays, squid, hard and soft coral, shrimp, lobster, and a myriad of colorful fish. Since I'd worn myself out already we only did the one dive that day. Soon after reaching shore, I ran into a young Australian couple, Josh and Jodi, whom I had been sporadically running into since Vietnam. We decided to do our PADI Advanced Diving Course together which consisted of 5 specific dives over three days. We chose to do the following dives: a deep dive (at least 30 meters or 90 feet deep) to see Manta Rays, a wreck dive, a Navigation dive (where you use a compass), a Tunnel dive, and a Night Dive. We began the next day with an afternoon deep dive. We headed out to Monad Shoal and descended to 36 meters along a line to wait for the giant Manta Rays. While waiting, we did some long addition exercises with our instructor (Eddison) in order to show us the possible effects of Nitrogen Narcosis. N.N is a state underwater when there isn't enough oxygen in the blood and a diver that is too deep begins to feel a bit high/tipsy and is unable to effectively make good diving decisions thus possibly endangering themselves or their diver buddy. After correctly answering the math questions (a major feat in and of itself considering my rather poor math skills on land) we simply waited for the giant Manta to swim our way. Luckily, it appeared almost immediately. The visibility down that deep is very poor and so the Manta literally appears out of nowhere and it is HUGE! Manta Rays are harmless and naturally curious creatures who enjoy swimming near divers and this first one was at least 5 meters in width (15 feet) and was absolutely beautiful in the way it just slowly glided past our gawking faces. It came so close above my head that I had to lay down to avoid bumping into it! This has to be the best dive I've ever had as I have never been in such close contact with such an awesome (in every sense of the word) creature. We were lucky enough to see it 3 more times before we had to ascend. I loved this dive so much that I went back again the following day and was able to see a different, yet no less impressive, Manta Ray 4 different times.
I also was to do my first night dive that day and since I am a scaredy cat by nature I was a little apprehensive of doing a night dive, but it was a great experience. We began the dive at sunset in order to see the brightly colored little Mandarin fish mating and then continued the dive into the night seeing sea horses and tons of different shellfish along the way. It was rather spooky being down there in the dark as it is completely pitch black and the only thing you can see is the light from the other divers' flashlights beaming into the darkness. That night, Saturday, was the night of the weekly local disco and so we all decided that we had to show up. And local it was! There must have been everyone on the island in attendance that night and they all knew how to get down! Basically, it was a series of small disco lights strung up over the local basketball court with several large speakers surrounding the court pumping out random 80s and 90s pop and disco music. We spent the night dancing with the little kids and locals enjoying the cultural meshing of our group and theirs. The following day we had our Navigation Dive which was rather boring as we had to form a square underwater using a compass and count our kick cycles, though the surrounding coral life was quite beautiful. On Monday June 18th we had a big day: it was the day of the wreck dive which every one, dive masters and students alike, were looking forward to. We were out to find the wreck of the passenger ferry Dona Marilyn which capsized in 1988. According to Eddison, the captain of the ferry realized that something was wrong and got the ferry to shallow water where he called in for help. The captain was then instructed to turn back out to sea as the insurance would not pay for damages in shallow water. As a result, the boat sunk in deep water killing all 2,000 + passengers on board. The veracity of the story has yet to be verified, but it sure makes for a good dive story. The site of the wreck lay about 1.5 hours by boat from the shores of Malapascua. We made good time there, but it took us another 2.5 hours to actually find the bloody thing! The wreck is literally out in the middle of the ocean and DiveLink has several times placed a buoy over the site as a marker, but cunning local fishermen repeatedly cut it down in order to force the dive boats to pay them 500 pesos (roughly $12) for the guidance in finding it. We finally gave in after we were unable to find it for 2 hours and the fishermen immediately located it. Exulted, we all jumped in and proceeded to descend 28 meters into extremely murky waters. We were unable to even see the wreck until we were almost on top it. Since Jodi and I were the wimps of the group we stayed behind with Eddison, declining to actually penetrate the wreck, rather preferring to swim around the outside. We were, however, rewarded for our apprehension as we were the only 2 to see the large manta ray swimming around the backside of the wreck; everyone else was busy getting stuck inside the wreck and trying to climb out the windows! All in all, these dives have been the best dives I have ever done with clear, cool water and a myriad of sea life all around. After 4 days of intense diving we decided to go all out and treat our dive masters and instructors to a night out on the town which didn't end until the wee hours of the morning. Being in the Philippines, where everyone speaks great English, has been really great since we have really been able to bond with the locals and learn more about their culture from their point of views.

After finishing our Advanced Course, Josh, Jodi, and I moved onto another island: the tiny island of Panglao on the very southern tip of the larger island of Bohol. N.B. The Philippines is made up of over 7,000 islands so it can get a bit confusing! We spent a few days diving around the even tinier island of Balicasag where there were beautiful coral reefs overflowing with schools of giant Trevally, yellow and black striped Butterfly fish, nudi-branches, miniature shrimp, and my first Sea Turtle! To see these docile and relaxed creatures in the water is so lovely as they are not afraid of divers and simply glide gracefully amongst you as you swim along. After spending over 2 weeks diving in the beautiful Philippine waters we thought that we should head inland for a day to explore what the island of Bohol had to offer. We decided on three things: the Chocolate Hills, the tiny gremlin-like Tarsiers, and Nuts' Huts. The Chocolate Hills where literally nothing more than a mass of small greenish-brownish colored hills in the middle of the island. Beautiful as they were to look at, they lost all magic after about 10 minutes of gazing upon them. We shortly made our way to Nuts' Huts, a health resort located in the middle of the jungle along a beautiful river. We had to hike 750 meters into the jungle before descending over 200 steps to reach the place and naturally we arrived dripping wet and ready for a lie-down in the hammocks. Feeling that we deserved some treats we ordered lavishly and ended the afternoon with ice cream and banana pancakes! We then trudged back up those 200 steps and the 750 meters into the street to meet our air-conditioned taxi and to head to the Tarsier Breeding Sanctuary. The little Tarsiers are perhaps the oddest creatures I have ever beheld and they were most certainly the inspiration behind the 80s movie The Gremlins. Unfortunately, the sanctuary left much to be desired. Even though it was supposedly a breeding program the staff never released them into the wild nor did they raise them with that objective. The poor creatures where wholly dependant on their human captors, spending all their days in a fenced-in area. There where signs everywhere saying not to hold the tarsiers, but even the staff members were allowing people to hold them. Naturally, this creates an unhealthy atmosphere for these tiny, fragile creatures. We left almost immediately after seeing their sorry state, feeling much worse after the whole experience.

Josh, Jodi, and I were all coincidentally on the same flight back to Bangkok the next day. I spent the next 4 days running errands in BK: a city which makes running errands so easy as the public transportation is clean and efficient and there are 24 hour 7-11s on every corner. I flew to Kota Kinabalu, the main city in Sabah, Borneo Malaysia on June 28th. I've been here for over a week now and have much to write about, but I will save it for another post!

I've updated my Picasa photo site with new photos and videos of underwater creatures! Enjoy!

Palawan: The Last Frontier

Palawan is one of the lesser touristed of all the islands in the Philippines. It is located within the South China Sea on the northern side and in the Sulu Sea on its southern border. It is known for its pristine beaches, wreck diving, and general lack of a tourist scene. I flew from Siem Reap, via Bangkok and Manila, to Puerto Princesa, the principle city on the island. The city is compact and busy and made for a good transition city into Filipino culture. Astonishingly, 85% of Filipinos speak English as a second language (and they speak it quite fluently too), almost all street signs, advertisements, and shop signs are in English, all the newspapers and most television is in English, and the brand of English they speak here is of the American version (making it doubly easy for me). They speak so much English here that their official language, Tagalog (pronounced TAH-GAH-LOH), isn't even taught in schools, but rather children are taught in English. Even on the ATM screen one is given the option of English or Taglish (rather than pure Tagalog)! Even when Filipinos speak Tagalog I have very little problems understanding since over 20% are loan words from English and 15% are loan words from Spanish. This change from pigeon English (in Indochina) to proper English has made traveling so much better in terms of getting what I want (without getting ripped off too much), getting where I want to go, and doing so in a timely fashion. Another way in which Filipinos are very much like Americans is that they are generally overweight or obese (very noticeable when coming from the much poorer region of Indochina) due to the consumption of junk food and chicharrones (pork rinds) by the bag full.

Coming from Indochina, where the tourist route is heavily treaded upon, Palawan was veritably deserted. I spent 4 days in Puerto Princesa and the only foreigners I met were a group of American Navy guys (for lack of the correct term, soldiers???) who were more interested in what the local women had to offer than I did (if you catch my drift). I did chance upon meeting one search-and-rescue diver among the crew who was more interested in what Palawan had to offer sea-wise and we ended up scuba diving together. Unfortunately, the visibility wasn't great, but there were tons of fish swimming all around us and being down there underwater is a generally agreeable experience. The highlight of my time in Puerto Princesa was a day trip to a fishing village called Sabang which is known for its subterranean river which is located within a cave filled to brimming with swallows and bats. I took a local jeepney (a sort of conglomeration of jeep and car parts smashed together...don't worry photos will follow) for the 3 hour, very bumpy ride south and then hopped on a little boat to take me round to the cave. Along the way we saw several sea turtles bobbing their little heads out of the water for air! Going through the cave itself was rather eerie as the swallows were head diving us at every turn making spooky calling sounds and the bats kept being awoken from their slumber only to dart down towards us before finding a new resting spot. I was glad that we only went 1.5 kilometers inside rather than the entire 8km. When we emerged back into the jungle, we had a picnic lunch which we had to guard from the group of marauding Macaque monkeys who kept leaping at us at every bite. Not only were there monkeys to deal with but there were several huge Monitor lizards crawling around. Monitor lizards are only one size down from the Komodo Dragon and no less intimidating, but Monitors are not aggressive and so simply were lazing around rather than in attack-mode. However, I had planned to walk the 6 km back to the port via the jungle trail, but after seeing the mischievous monkeys and their lizard friends I thought that perhaps I would never make it out alone and so hopped back on the boat for the return trip.

A few days later, I made the very local 9 hour bus trip north to the fishing village of El Nido, known for its crystal clear waters and multiple limestone cliffs jutting from the ocean floor. After a couple of flat tires, I arrived in the late afternoon and the rain to find a delightfully overpriced bungalow on the beach. I had yet to see any 'proper' backpackers and so was looking forward to meeting the few that I thought would be in El Nido. Luckily, I happened to meet them all (only about 6!) on the boat trip I took the following day. We hired a boat to take us to Miniloc Island known for its Big and Small Lagoon which are crystal clear pools of water surrounded by inposing limestone cliffs and are accesible only by kayak. We also went to Secret Beach which is on Maniloc Island and is only accesible only by jumping off the boat and swimming through an underwater hole. It was fantastic! The crew then cooked us up a fantastic fish grill on the white sands of one of the many beaches scattered throughout the bays. I spent the next few days in this fashion: eating fresh foods on nice beaches with new friends, until I decided it was time to move on to another group of islands known as The Visayas. The Visayas proved to be much more exhilarating than did Palawan.

Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat is simply indescribable. It's impossible to put into words the beauty and majesty one sees upon beholding this extreme feat of architectural genius pouring forth from the Cambodian jungle. Even today, with all the restoration going on andthe hundreds of tourists inundating it on a daily basis, the jungle still threatens to overtake these ancient ruins. At many times, we had to fold back foliage and climb over erratically growing trees in order to get at the ruins themselves. It is almost possible to imagine how Angkor Wat would have looked like upon its rediscovery by the Frenchman Charles-Emile Bouillevaux in 1858 deep in the wilds of northern Cambodia. We arrived around 10 am and it took us until 4.30 pm to visit only a fraction of what the temple complex has to offer. At a shocking $20 per ticket, it is worth one's while to see as much as possible in one day, even if one is completely exhausted by the end it. I do think that Angkor Wat was well worth the $20 entrance fee because the visitor can clearly see that the majority of that money is going straight back into restoration as there are many workers placed all around the grounds and the grounds themselves are kept immaculately clean from rubbish (something which is not true for the majority of Cambodia, or Indochina for that matter). Angkor Wat is the name of the principal and most photographed temple, but the area is really made up of more than 50 major and minor temples of varying names. Building began sometime around 802 CE and ended abruptly around 1219 CE. Each temple was originally a Hindu temple honoring the gods as well as the final resting place for the particular king that constructed it. Around the mid-1500s there were no longer any references to the temples and they were simply swallowed up by the encroaching jungle until their rediscovery and subsequent excavation by the French in the late 1800s. Now, they are an UNESCO protected world heritage sight and are among the few truly outstanding sights that this part of the world has left. One really must see the temples for themselves to be able to truly appreciate their importance.

This evening I am flying out of Siem Reap ultimately headed for Puerto Princesa on the Filipino island of Palawan for 3 weeks of sea, sand, sun, and scuba diving. More about that to come in the near future.

Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh was crazy! It had the best energy of any Asian city I have ever visited, with people, tuk-tuks, trash, palaces, restaurants, shops, and everything else all meshing really well into one perfectly chaotic mess. I spent 4 very pleasant days and nights there before moving onto Angkor Wat in the north. On my second full day we rented a tuk-tuk for the day to take us to the extremely depressing Choeung Ek killing fields and the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum. Choeung Ek, a mere 17 kilometers outside of Phnom Penh, was the site of mass executions of the Cambodian people by the rebel group known as the Khmer Rouge. In less than 3 years (between 1975-1978), the Khmer Rouge are estimated to have brutally murdered between 1 and 2 million of its own people, roughly 20% of the entire Cambodian population. The Khmer Rouge began with senior military commanders of opposing parties, to monks, to the elite and educated, before moving onto the rural poor and members within its own party. Reasons for the mass murders are still unclear, but the man behind the genocide is well known as Pol Pot or "Brother Number One" within the regime, who unfortunately died before he was able to be brought properly to justice. Even today, the Cambodian government and the UN are unable to come to an agreement as to how to most effectively put to trial those few elderly Khmer Rouge members that survive and so there is still a lingering open wound in the hearts of all Cambodians. Visiting the killing fields was an extremely sobering experience as there was still so much fresh evidence of the murders: when wandering around the now peaceful fields one begins to notice bits of bone and fragments of clothing still embedded in the hard earth from those who perished in those mass graves. We then moved onto the Genocide Museum. This was a former high school hijacked by the Khmer Rouge and used as a facility for torture and murder of thousands of men, women, and children. Filled with photos of the deceased, one could feel the presence of all these ghosts around them and the atrocities that they suffered.

After a thoroughly depressing morning, we felt that some retail therapy was in order and so made our way to the Russian Market. The market was a surprisingly pleasant experience as none of the vendors were hawking or screaming their wares, yet left us in peace to browse as we pleased. Every stall was filled with clothes from The GAP, Old Navy, Zara, Abercrombie & Fitch, and Adidas straight from the factory complete with price tags and hangers from the company! I bought a $1 GAP tank top originally priced at $9.50 and placed by the saleswoman into a Border's Bookstore plastic bag. I then went to UCare Pharmacy (similar to CVS or Walgreen's) to buy some shampoo, but I encountered an entire row of Kirkland Signature (Costco's brand) vitamins and medicine instead. Where in the world they came from is beyond me! One thing that is supervery strange about Cambodia is that virtually all business transactions are conducted in American dollars. The ATMs only dispense American dollars, all menu prices and shop prices are in dollars, and the locals prefer to be paid in dollars rather than their local currency (the riel). It makes all transactions super easy for me, but I have never been to a country other than my own in which I can use only my own money. Bizarre!

Coming from Vietnam, one notices how much wealthier Cambodia is. Phnom Penh has a good infrastructure of roads, buildings, and everyday city things, the streets are filled with more luxury cars (Lexus', Mercedes', Hummer's, etc.) than I have seen since leaving the states, there is very little begging, and the majority of the people are well-dressed and driving well-kept motorbikes. There are even proper toy stores everywhere, something which one does not see in either Laos or Thailand. However, the reason for this wealth is corruption. Cambodia suffers from one of the most corrupt governments in Asia with virtually all foreign aid money being put directly into the pockets of government workers rather than into social betterment of the people. Nowhere is this more evident than in the capital. When driving through the countryside, there are signs proclaiming "The Cambodian People's Party" every few hundred meters, in order to remind everyone of their power throughout the country. Yet, even through all this corruption, Cambodia (as in Laos and Vietnam) has absolutely no McDonald's, Starbucks, Pizza Huts, or any other Americanized institution of fattening food. It is so refreshing to finally find a little corner of this earth in which America has yet to put its stamp of consumerism. I'm sure that we only have to wait a few years though until the ink comes down.

After spending a couple of more delightful days in the capital sightseeing and gorging on local Khmer curries, we headed on a local bus to Siem Reap in order to be dazzled by Angkor Wat

The Journey to Phnom Penh

The journey to Phnom Penh started at 6.45 am and was grueling in every sense of the word. In and of itself it is worth its own separate blog entry. In Phu Quoc I had met an Australian couple my mom's age who quickly became my adoptive parents for the week and with whom I made the journey from Phu Quoc to Cambodia. Before leaving Chau Doc for the Cambodian border we stopped off at an indigenous Cham village along the river. The people here are ethnically Malaysian and practice Islam. Physically, they look very different from traditional Vietnamese, having wider eyes and darker skin, they look more Indian than Vietnamese. The women (even young girls) cover their heads with beautiful lace scarves, the men wear traditional bright Muslim caps on the tops of their heads, and both men and women wear brightly patterned sarongs. It was a striking change from the other indigenous villages I had encountered who are mostly either ethnically Chinese or who have been in Vietnam for centuries. As seems the norm in Vietnam, everyone was very welcoming and full of friendly smiles for us foreigners.
We then pressed on for a three hour very slow boat to the Cambodian border. It was about a 45 kilometer journey and we were going only 15 km (approx. 9 mph!) per hour. It was simply boiling out there on the river with the sun beating down on us and the teasing wind blowing all the trees on the banks yet never making it to those of us in the boat. Finally we arrived at the Vietnamese border and were instructed to haul our heavy rucksacks up a completely vertical dirt hill while the locals simply watched us struggle. We had a hurried lunch, spending the last of our dong, and then made our way to a new Cambodian boat to repeat the process on the Cambodian side. I really can not capture in words the heat during that day. I don't think I have ever sweated that much in my life, literally from every pore. We were 15 in all on the boat and we were all stinky, sweaty, and worn out yet we were only half way through the journey. We were again 3 hours on a very slow and lopsided boat to Cambodia. When we arrived at the Cambodian border and had trudged up the mud hill, we noticed that we were the only group there getting our passports stamped and that there were no border patrol around. We soon realized that that was because they were all having a go at karaoke in the back and couldn't be bothered with us tourists! Soon after, however, we managed to coax them into stamping our visas and letting us on our way. About 15 minutes into the journey the guide asked me to move to the other side so I could even out the boat. However, not only was the other side bathed in scorching sunlight, but I was rather offended that he thought that I was heavy enough to balance out the boat! So about 5 minutes later, literally out of nowhere, a Vietnamese woman appeared and sat down on the other side to even it out. Now, this woman had not been with us for the entire trip and really there are not too many places one can hide on a boat, so I still haven't figured out the mysteries of Cambodian boats.
At about 4.30 pm we disembarked (again up a completely vertical muddy, dirty hill) in Neak Leung only to board a (thankfully air conditioned) bus for another 1.5 hours to the capital. I once thought that Laos had bad roads, but Cambodian roads are by far the worse. Throughout the entire hour and a half we never once met with a level stretch of road but rather bounced, banged, and jostled our way to Phnom Penh. Meanwhile there was the worst monsoonal storm happening outside which only caused the barely passable roads to become even less so and our going even slower. Passing us on all sides were local buses packed with people on the inside, packed with luggage on the roof, and with even more people stacked on top of the luggage all getting absolutely soaked in the pouring rain. Upon arrival in the capital we met with the most extraordinary tangle of traffic I have ever seen. There were people, motorbikes, carts, tractors, luxury cars, trucks, you name it, embroiled in a tangle of traffic which really wasn't even moving. Never mind the lack of traffic police or traffic lights, there weren't even any traffic signs or lane definitions. Instead people simply went where and whenever they pleased expecting everyone else to do the same and somehow everyone got where they needed to go without too much incident. We were finally dumped in the gritty backpacker section of the city and too tired to look for nicer accommodation, I dropped my rucksack at the first grotty place with a/c and promptly ran into some friends I had met in Phu Quoc with whom I spent the rest of the evening. I had a surprisingly good Khmer veggie curry and washed it down with my favorite: BeerLao. Now, if someone had told me the border crossing experience was so torturous I would have simply flown, which I know is somehow cheating, but a girl's gotta have her limits and I certainly have mine!
Today, I woke up early and with my adoptive parents went in search of nicer accommodation on the other side of town. We eventually found something more acceptable, but only after another grueling sweat soaked morning. I am thoroughly looking forward to finally getting the chance to explore the city properly today.

The island of Phu Quoc

I have just returned from a week spent on an enchanting island with sunshine filled days, great people, and scrumptious squid. After leaving Saigon, I boarded a plane headed for the island of Phu Quoc located in the Gulf of Thailand, to the west of the Vietnamese mainland. I left bright and early and so arrived with a full day ahead of me. After looking around, I found a perfect bungalow placed right on the beach with a hammock-filled balcony and a mosquito-netted bed overlooking the waves. I promptly found myself a beach chair and barely moved from there the entire day. Throughout that first day I was constantly being stalked by a group of well meaning massage ladies, "You want massage? You want manicure, pedicure, threading?". It was a veritable spa on the beach and with prices all under $4 it was hard to say no. I assented to getting a massage and having my legs threaded. For those of you unfamiliar with threading it is one of the more painful ways of having hair removed. Similar to waxing in the sense that it removes hair from the roots, the hair is removed by the use of string wrapped tightly around and then dragged across your hair to be pulled out. Not a pleasant sensation by any stretch of the imagination. At the appointed time, I was met on the beach by a gaggle of women, instructed to lay down on my stomach, and then before I knew it 4 women were in very close contact with my body: 2 were threading either leg, one was massaging my back, and the other my legs. Frankly, any more than one person doing anything to your body is too much so I halted all movement and said only 2 people were allowed: one threader and one masseuse. However, halfway through the threading of one leg I made her stop because it was too damn painful and I thought to myself, "Here I am on this beautiful beach enduring torture to remove some stupid leg hair when I would rather be enjoying my massage." so now I have a half threaded leg and a much nicer feeling body. The woman threading replied, "No ow-ow no beautiful, but ow-ow beautiful" and as much as this may be true I still didn't continue. For dinner I had freshly grilled whole snapper and fresh shrimp spring rolls while watching the sun go down on the beach.

The following day, after meeting several other like-minded travelers, I went on a boat trip to explore the islands and do some fishing and snorkeling. The water was way too cloudy to see much and I caught no fish (the last time I fished I was still sucking my thumb), but the company was great and the crew caught enough fish to cook up a huge meal and, really, what could be lovelier than sitting on a boat in the middle of the ocean eating and chatting with great people? We then docked at Bai Sao which is one of the nicest beaches I have ever seen. Set in a cove with green hills surrounding it, the water is crystal clear and the beach is filled with super-fine sparkling white sand. Very few tourists go there since it is hard to find and there is only one beach shack serving up good seafood so it provided a great spot to stop and have a swim and a few beers.

On Tuesday, after meeting an American (only the second one I've met here) named Kyle who had rented out a moto for the week, we decided to go visit some local natural wonders. We started with the waterfall which proved to be spectacular: set amid lush, dense, tropical forests through which one has to hike about 15 minutes to reach the waterfall which was perfect for swimming. The water formed a small crystal clear pool delightfully cool to our sweaty bodies. Unfortunately, upon our arrival we were met with a group of Vietnamese tourists with a megaphone drinking cans of beer and snacking on crabs. They left soon after our arrival, yet in their wake they left several cans of beer, plastic glasses, numerous crab shells, among other things. The mentality in Vietnam seems to be that someone else will do it and so this situation happens often. And yes, someone else did do it: Kyle and I. Having grown up good American citizens, (hah!) we cleaned up after them in order to preserve the serene beauty of the place and better enjoyed ourselves after having done so. We had planned on having a beach side BBQ with the others so we headed to the local market and bartered for 2 kilos of prawns, 2 kilos of squid, 2 cases of Tiger beer, and numerous veggies for about $5 a person (we were 6 people total). Feeling pretty good about this we met up with the others and through the great help of the lady at the hotel managed to have an excellent meal of prawn and squid skewers watching the sunset.

I had planned to leave on Wednesday, but soon decided to extend my time there as it was just so perfect. The next couple of days were spent on the back of Kyle's motorbike exploring the island from the many beaches to the protected jungle to completely washed out roads and less than safe bamboo bridges to lots of squid lunches and general friendliness of the locals.

On Friday, the day of my departure to the mainland via ferry boat, I woke up early to an ever darkening sky which soon turned into a monsoonal storm with 25 mph winds, lightening, thunder, and lots of rain. It was with trepidation that I headed for the port on a local bus with a driver who literally honked his horn for the entire 30 minute journey and completely filled with less than content locals. Happy to get off that bus I was relieved to see the sky had cleared for my 3 hour karaoke crazy ferry journey across the water. I spent the night in a vast port town and caught a very local bus to the Cambodian border. Tomorrow I will be headed via an 11 hour slow boat to Phnom Penh, a journey which I am sure will be filled with numerous mini adventures.

Some interesting facts and anecdotes on Vietnam:

1) Similar to the Chinese, the Vietnamese are only allowed 2 children per family

2) The Vietnamese will generally try to rip you off if they can, but there is no need to feel upset about this as they do it their own people as well.

3) On the island of Phu Quoc I saw a man driving a motorbike with 2 little kids smashed between him towing a baby walker behind him with a 10 month old baby inside. I have seen some crazy motorbike action here but that has got to top them all!

4) Local buses are guaranteed to be packed to the gills with more people than there are seats and enough stinky food for an army before they will depart from the station

5) If a car, bus, truck, or motorbike has a horn the Vietnamese will use it excessively until it breaks.

6) The predominate fashion here in Vietnam for women is that of matching pyjama sets. These are worn day or night in a variety of styles and colors. I have seen this fashion throughout Vietnam (even in the metropolis that is Saigon)and have yet to feel inclined to copy it.

5) Vietnam is a lovely place to visit and I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in visiting!