around the world in 240 days

Day 254 - Home from the Trees

2008-02-22T08:18:00.000-08:00

We spent the morning with my grandmother, stopped briefly back at my mom's, and then dashed off again to go to the jeweler to have some stones we bought in India set and to meet up with my dad for lunch before driving down to VA Beach to see Cz's mom. With a schedule like that, it is easy to see how it has not yet registered that we are done travelling. We may have made it all the way around the world, but we are in no way yet still.

Everyone we see seems to greet us with 'What a phenomenal experience', or something of that ilk. It was a phenomenal experience, but a part of me feels like I missed it. Throughout the trip, I was so focused on each country as we experienced it, or on planning the next destination that I never felt like I had the time to step back and reflect on the journey as a whole. As the months telescoped down into weeks, days, and finally just hours, I found myself wondering where all the time had gone. It felt like we had been gone only few weeks rather than more than half a year.

And that may not be entirely a bad thing. Part of the joy of taking time out of one's everyday routine is to live more in the moment. Living in the moment on this trip opened us up to a depth of experience that we probably would have missed had we been trying to keep the scope of the whole thing in perspective at all times. On the flip side, each section of the trip feels like its own entity. I have trouble connecting that we finished the Camino, rode camels in the Indian desert, walked across the Himalayas, and visited Korea's DMZ all in the same voyage. Because I never looked on the trip as a whole, I feel like I missed a significant part of the experience.

Perhaps that understanding is only possible in hindsight. It is not possible to be physically two places at once, just so, neither is it possible to be mentally two places at once. Ironically in eight months, the one luxury we never had was time. Only in hindsight, do we have the luxury of choosing to pull up a certain memory and mull it over. Or to sit with a cup of tea and reflect on the experience as a whole.

Over the next few months I plan to read through this blog (I haven't actually read most of the posts - I write them, Cz edits them, and off they go to the interweb without a second glance from me.) I think I might be surprised by what I find. By reading the blog, looking at photos, and trolling my own memories, I hope to be able to feel some kind of though line on the adventure. As I read and mull and jot notes and sketches, I hope that I can coalesce the experience into a travel book.

With luck, it will be a travel book that other people will want to read, and so be published. With even more luck, maybe enough people will read it that the royalties will help fund a trip to South America, or China, or Africa, or the Balkans... If there's one thing I learned planning and going on this trip it's that there are always more places to go.

There's an adage that goes something like "Of all the places I roam, the finest of these is home." There's another saying that says "You can never come home again." Both I think are true.

Home, when one is gone for more than a few months, takes on a tinge of memory and nostalgia. Even if home doesn't really change, it will not match the Home with a capital 'H' that has formed in one's mind. For me, home as I remember it has ceased to exist. Because we knew we would only be in NYC for 9 months, we subleted someone else's apartment, and when she returned, put our remaining books, clothes and tools in storage, never establishing roots in the big city. In January 2007, my horse died. For as long as I can remember, the front yard had been defined by the fences of her, and her predecessors' paddocks. Soon after we left in June 2007, the fences were finally pulled down. The landscape of my memory was irrevocably altered. In October, Home with a capital 'H', my childhood home, was demolished to make way for a new house. It is a good change - my mother is much happier with the new house, and it is a solid, well laid-out, good building - but it means that even without the filters of nostalgia, there is no way for me to return Home as I knew it.

Home with a capital 'H' now lies in the people we love - in the familiar faces and personality tics, in the cats who still find the warmest sunbeams, and in the daffodils that resolutely bloom along the now-gone fence lines. Because we left no home to which we could return in the city, it is now up to Cz and I to build a Home for ourselves. We have found the geography of our new Home in the form of four rooms and a two year lease in Manhattan. We have the foundations in each other, our families, our friends, and our experiences. With luck and time, we hope to build something beautiful with many windows to eight months where Home was nothing more than 2 forty litre packs and each other, and nothing less than the whole wide world.

A few of my favorite things III (cz)

2008-02-22T08:17:00.000-08:00

Day 253 - Effin' Delta

2008-02-21T08:03:00.000-08:00

But before I go on my Delta rant....

Our new apartment is on the 'A' train which runs directly out to JFK. It is also within walking distance to one of the express bus to LaGuardia stops. Which means that if anyone wants to visit us, we are easy to reach from either airport.

Fortunately, our friend's apartment is near the 'E' train, which also goes out to JFK. Even better, our flight was midday, so we did not have to wrestle our packs and ourselves into a rush-hour train.

Once at the airport, the fun began. First, the computer had a little trouble finding our reservation - nothing major - we found it by typing in the destination and flight time. On to the gate, we went through security with no issues, but upon checking the notice board, discovered that our flight was delayed 15 minutes.

Cz moseyed over to the bookstore, while I sat at the gate to watch the pack. About 15 minutes BEFORE the posted boarding time, we hear our names announced over the PA being called to the gate because 'the plane is ready to depart and your seats are about to be relinquished'. I fuss and fret as Cz makes his way back from the bookshop, and we dash to the door.

I tell the guy at the door that the boarding time isn't for another 15 minutes. We 'discuss' the fact that there was no announcement that the flight wasn't delayed after all, and that the board is still showing the delayed boarding time. The two employees at the gate were really rude about the whole thing, and I might have cursed at them a little as I boarded the plane.

This is not the first time I have nearly missed a flight because Delta has failed to announce a boarding gate change or a departure time. It seems pretty par for the course on Delta flights in or out of JFK. And in general, when something does go wrong - nearly missed flight, lost luggage, etc, the customer service reps are thoroughly rude. Moral of he story is: If you can avoid flying Delta, particularly Delta into or out of JFK, do so.

Not that I'm going to follow my own advice. I have a Delta frequent flyer card, and a whole lot of miles built up. Delta may suck, but they are cheap. You get what you pay for, I guess.

As we lifted up through the clouds, we were able to watch the skyline of NYC receding below us. Unfortunately, we were to far SEE to see our neighborhood, but it was good knowing that we have a home in the city.

The flight itself was only about 45 minutes - we were on the plane from 3:45-5:30, and only 45 minutes of that was in the air - and entirely uneventful. We landed in Richmond where my mom was waiting as close to the gate as non ticket-holders could go. She managed not to cry. I was very impressed.

We spent the drive to Callao talking about the trip and watching the woods go by. Right now, her house is under construction, so she and my godfather are now living in a few rooms of a second old farmhouse on the property. It's been rigged up with heaters and and running water...the bathroom manages to be both the warmest and best-outfitted room in the house. We couldn't wait until morning, so with a flashlight, my mom took us around the property to feed her new goats saltines (even past their bedtime the goats love salty crackers), visit with the Brooklyn chickens (the little peeps we dropped off in June have grown into an giant rooster and two fat hens), and to see the new house. From the outside it doesn't look like anything special, but the interior is beautifully laid out, and every room has great water views.

We were only able to visit for a little while before heading to my grandmother's house which is not under construction and is nice and warm. Once again, we were greeted with much excitement. Unfortunately we were too tired to be really sociable. It's good that we have a few days to spend in VA, or everyone would only get a cursory hi-bye. As it stands, it hasn't really registered than we are back at our exact starting point. We have officially made it around the world.

Day 252 - 10031-3321

2008-02-20T20:01:00.000-08:00

We signed the lease this afternoon. We now have an official NYC address with an official NY zip code. We are thrilled with the apartment. Aside from being an a great older building with architectural details like high ceilings and embossed crown moulding, it's in a great location.

Sugar Hill is the section of North Harlem that runs from W135th up to W155th street. It is so named because it was the 'sweet and expensive' place to live from the 20's to the '40's. Several of the buildings are landmarked both for architectural detail and because of the writers, musicians, and politicians they once housed. Alexander Hamilton's country home is just around the corner, and is now a branch of the NYC library. Miss Sylvia's Soul Food, considered one of the top restaurants in Harlem, is only one subway stop or a 20 minute walk away, and Fort Washington Park is about two blocks West of our building. For a while in the 80's and 90's, Sugar Hill was pretty dangerous because of drugs, gangs, and gambling, but recently has been cleaned up into a quiet, safe, residential area. Fortunately for us, the rents still reflect the darker days to some degree, which is the only reason we can afford to live on the island proper. Oh, and our building is rent-stabilized, meaning that the rent can only increase by small increments, not at the booming rate of the rest of the city.

After signing our 2 year lease, we spent the rest of the day puttering around the city and not doing much of anything.

We met up with our friend W in the evening to watch a free pre-screening of Morgan Spurlock's Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden. Spurlock is the same guy who brought us Supersize Me. In this latest film, he travels to the Middle East, ostensibly looking for Osama before the birth of his first child. He spends most of the film talking to the locals in each place he visits, and over and over they express the same sentiments of people we met on our travels. "We HATE the American government, but we love the American people."

I hope we can change that government.

Day 251 - Waiting Game

2008-02-19T19:45:00.000-08:00

Once again, we woke up early in order to be at the building manager's office as soon as they opened. And today there was somebody there. The first question we asked was 'what is the pet policy for cats'. The policy has changed. Cats are allowed now. So we filled out the application forms and crossed our fingers that our combined income and credit rating would be sufficient for them to offer us the place. If not, we put in a call to Cz's mom to give her a heads' up that we might need her as a co-signer. As cosigner, she would not be required to pay anything, but if we screw up at all, it would go on her credit rating. Now all there is to do is wait.

Because all of our financial records are still in storage, we called the Art Students League to have them fax all our info to the office. When we called, the model coordinator was thrilled to hear from us - someone had canceled at the last minute and could one of us please fill in. Cz was only too happy to get out of a morning of apartment hunting.

I spent the morning visiting apartments, and trying to set up appointments to see even more apartments. All of the ones I saw today were nice, and one was even right on Prospect Park in a slightly nicer neighborhood near where we used to live in Brooklyn. Once again, however, none of them was as good as the one on which we are waiting to hear if we are acceptable tenants.

By 2:15 I finished all my appointments, and went back to 57th street to meet Cz. At his urging, I called the office to see if they had finished running our credit and employment check. I was told to call back in five minutes. We waited five minutes. We called back.

WE GOT THE APARTMENT!!!!!!!!

So then we called home to beg one of the parents to please, please, please let us borrow money to make first month and security. My terrific godfather pulled through for us, and is fedexing a certified check. If all goes well, the money will arrive tomorrow morning, and we should have a lease in hand by noon. We hope. I don't think we'll relax until that lease is signed and filed...

About our apartment. It's at W150th street. In Neighborhood terms, that's the border of Harlem and Washington Heights. It has a huge kitchen, huge bedroom, and decent living room. We can paint it any colours we want to. The bathroom has a full tub and great water pressure. The appliances are all only 2-3 years old. It has a gas oven. It has windows in every room except the bathroom. It's 15 minutes to Central Park, work, and the Columbus Circle Farmers' Market. It's 20 minutes to The Cloisters, and 2 blocks from Riverside Park. And on the local train, it's only 4-5 stops from the science museum! We are tickled about as pink as the living room walls are currently. Cross your fingers that Fed Ex doesn't fail us.

We had already made plans to meet my godmother, Cz's brother, and his boyfriend for dinner. Now that we are not homeless, there was even more cause to celebrate. It was great seeing everyone and devouring delicious sushi.

Today was WAY better than yesterday. And we're not homeless!!!!!!

Day 250 - The Hunt Continues

2008-02-18T19:30:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the building manager's office 25 minutes before opening because I accidentally wrote down that they open at 8, when in fact, they open at 8:30. Cz was not pleased at the prospect of waiting in the cold with a cold. Fortunately, the office is in a neighborhood peppered with little delis, so we soon found a place to sit at a counter and eat tea and toast in the warm while we waited. At 8:32, I called again - no answer. At 8:40, we stopped by and rang the buzzer - no answer. We called again, and left another message, then headed out to check out our other options. Because I was still curious what else was out there, and Cz because he was afraid that because of the cats we wouldn't have a chance with this apartment.

Cz hates apartment hunting. Cz hates having a cold. Both make him crank -eeee. Apartment hunting with a sniffly Cz is about the worst way I can think of to spend a day in NY. But we muddled through. We saw a couple of studios at a great location on 153rd in Manhattan that would be acceptable for a year until we found something bigger, but nothing to match the second 1br we saw yesterday. I'm hoping that the other couple that wants the apartment is more successful in their hunt today and signs on somewhere else. Cz is less optimistic, and is freaking out that we will end up having to stay at his brother's apartment for a month while we continue looking (his brother is moving too, and his old apt is vacant for march). As stated before, Cz is done with being rootless, and refuses to face the possibility of not having his OWN address by the time we head to VA on Feb 21.

I'm crossing my fingers that the pet policy has changed on the apartment we want.

Day 249 - The House Hunt

2008-02-17T19:17:00.000-08:00

We visited three apartments today, and scheduled appointments for six more tomorrow. Cz is so over being rootless, and was ready to sign on the very first place we saw, a largish studio in a nice part of Queens. I wasn't ready to settle, and of course didn't want to sign on the very first place without seeing what else was out there.

The second place we saw was a huge one bedroom with a nice kitchen. Unfortunately the price listed on Craigslist was incorrect, an the apartment was about $200 out of our price range.

Next was another large one bedroom with a big bedroom, decent living room, and an enormous eat-in kitchen. The present tenant has table for 6 in there now, and there is still room to move around. Best of all, it is on the express line just two stops from Columbus Circle, which is the subway stop closest to our day job. The only drawback is that it might not allow cats. As the present tenant said "It's technically a no pets building, but I know people have them". I was ready to take that as a 'go' and just smuggle the cats in. Cz wants to be honest. She said that another couple seemed interested, so we went into competitive apartment mode. We called the agency as we were leaving, and the phone rang and rang, without even going to voicemail. When we arrived home, we called again, and this time succeeded in leaving a message (which did NOT include mention of the cats).

Apartment hunting complete, we met up with W and an old TheatreVA friend for Ethiopian food. After dinner we went to see a screening of the Oscar nominated animated shorts where W were met by our friend B. Most of the films were pretty disappointing, but the re-imagined Peter and the Wolf was brilliant. It uses the original score and the original animals (cat, bird, duck, wolf), but it is set in a harsh winter landscape, and roars with black humour. The fatty cat is especially funny. See the film if you can.

Home again, we set the alarm for super-early so that I could further troll Craigslist, and so that we could be the first ones at the building managers office in case it was open on the holiday.

Day 248 - New York, New York

2008-02-16T23:28:00.001-08:00

Other than the delay, our flight to NY was uneventful. However, as we approached the runway, I didn't feel the same elation or the the sense of coming home that I felt in Seattle. Perhaps Seattle got all the excitement because it was our first port of call in the USA, or perhaps because it had been almost two years since we had been there. I suspect though it is because I have very ambivalent feelings towards NY, whereas I really loved Seattle.

Granted, we had 3 years to discover how great Seattle is, and only 9 months in NY. Perhaps in time, I will develop a feeling of 'home' in the Big Apple too. For that reason, it is essential that we find a good apartment where I can nest.

I had hoped that because we were arriving on a weekend that there would be loads of open houses or people showing their apartments. Strangely though, everyone seemed to be planning Sunday showcases. So I spent most of the day trolling Craigslist and sleeping off the jetlag. Cz finally got his full day of rest in front of the TV and video games. Perhaps it will help him shake our cold.

We did go out in the evening to meet up with the production manager and stage manager of Merry Go Round Playhouse where Cz will be designing this summer. They were both lovely people and we had a great time reminiscing and talking theatre.

Afterwards, we headed back to our friend W's in Astoria (in whose apartment we are crashing) and ordered a huge NY pizza and mozzarella sticks. All that cheese is going a long way to up the 'home' factor of NY.

Day 247 - Last Call

2008-02-15T23:27:00.000-08:00

Cz has caught my cold and has therefore been feeling under the weather. Unfortunately, he is not very good at being sick, and whines, mopes, and grumbles incessantly. It may be a bit callous of me but I was happy to strike out on my own this morning and leave Cz to grouse in the hotel room by himself.

First order of business was a haircut at my old salon. Freshly shorn, I walked to the corner to catch a bus up to Capitol Hill, but it was a relatively pleasant morning, and I was early to the haircut (so got out early), so I decided to walk instead.

I needed to go to Capitol Hill to visit our old building and to pick up a letter of recommendation from the landlord there. As I walked, I admired all the shops, the clean air, and the general air of relaxed friendliness which has always been one of my favourite features of Seattle. Once at our old home, I was pleasantly surprised that the building manager not only recognised my face, but even remembered my name!

While she found our letter on file (she wrote us a rec when we went to NY the first time), I took a walk up to Volunteer Park. The sculpture in front of the museum had been moved to the new Olympic Sculpture Park, but otherwise, the scene was unchanged, complete with frolicking dogs, Space Needle views, and gossiping neighbors. In the two little ponds the koi, which I remember being about 6" were now at least 1'-18". Time moves on even for fishies...

Rec letter in hand, I made my way back in to the U District to close out my BOA account. BOA has screwed me over with so many ridiculous fees that I am really happy to finally be free of them. I may open another bank account at some point, but for now, I am going to try to get by with just my credit union account in VA. We'll see how it goes living in NY with an out of state account.

Errands done, I reluctantly returned to the hotel to drop off my key, and then crossed the street to the scene shop computer room where Cz was surfing the web and stewing over having to get out of bed. Did I mention that in addition to being incredibly whiney when he's ill, Cz also get incredibly grumpy. It's not a good combo. I think it might be a guy thing though. Most people I've spoken too seem to agree that women are less likely than men to be thrown by a minor illness. Perhaps it is a cultural thing - men are taught to be strong and not show emotion because that's 'weak', but they're also raised to believe that when they're ill it's perfectly OK to succumb completely to (an to expect) pampering. It's one of the few outlets where weakness is not only accepted but even endorsed, and so most men turn into quivering balls of patheticness at the merest whiff of a virus.

I managed to coax Cz to our favourite pho shop (Vietnamese noodle soup - good for what ails ya) for lunch. Feeling a bit revived by the tea and spicy soup, we made our way down the Ave to the Birkenstock store. Not to buy Birkenstocks, but to pick up a pair of The World's Best Tights - the actual (and accurate) brand. They are a little pricey, but the last pair I bought lasted over 2 years, and was totally comfortable until I wore them out entirely. I've only seen them for sale in Seattle, though I haven't checked online. I'm sort of afraid of what would happen to my bank account if I discovered that they had a webpage...

Across the street from the tights store there happened to be a movie theatre showing the Oscar-nominated live-action shorts. Luckily, even being ill doesn't stop Cz from loving TV and movies, and because we caught the early showing, we even got discount tickets! By the time we left, it was time to go meet our friends in the pub, and it took Cz 3 blocks walking from the movies to remember that he was feeling poorly and should be complaining.

At the pub, the cold took a back seat to the nachos, beer, and good company. Unfortunately the movie ran long, so we were a little rushed getting through our pitcher in time to make it to our friend's thesis show.

As for that...Well, our friend's set design was pretty...

It was Shaw's She Stoops to Conquer. I think it might have been clever, but unfortunately none of the team found the lightness in the script, so it was very slow. We were guiltily relieved to have to leave at intermission to catch our flight.

Our friend that collected us from the airport also generously drove us back. On arrival we learned that our flight was delayed by 1hour. This was a little nervous-making as generally when JFK flights are delayed by an hour, they have a tendency to get even more delayed, sometimes even get canceled outright.

Thankfully after the announced hour delay, the plane took off, we reclined our seats, and did our best to sleep all the way to NY.

Day 246 - Love, Seattle

2008-02-14T12:48:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentines' Day all!

This was our last morning with our friend V. Before delivering us to our hotel, she drove us down to the arboreatum, one of my favourite haunts when we lived in Seattle.

Spring comes a little earlier here than on the East Coast. In sheltered areas near buildings daffodils and crocuses are already starting to bloom. Daffodils are my absolute favourite flower, and the first of the season are my favourite daffodils, so my day was already made by 8:30AM.

The arboreatum contains plants for all seasons, including a winter garden. The winter garden is so named because it is primarily occupied by plants which present 'winter interest', such as colourful bark, evergreen leaves, interesting branches, or winter blooms. My favourite of these are the yellow hazel. They have one of the loveliest smells of any plant in the garden.

After the arboretum, our friend dropped us at the College Inn where we waited and fretted for a key until it was time to assist a class lecture. I left my cell number and our packs at the hotel, and crossed my fingers that we would have a key in time.

Class went swimmingly - The new first years are good bunch, and it was great to see our scenic design professor again. After class, the three of us joined up with the costume design professor for lunch. It was really great to visit with them as fellow designers rather than as students.

We had just enough time when we finished eating to race to the College Inn to FINALLY retrieve the keys and then rush to the bus to catch the ferry to Bremerton.

We made the bus with time to spare, and got our ferry tickets with no hassle. Cz promptly fell asleep. I ended up playing cards with a high school dropout (he's in the process of getting his GED now) kid with black and red hair for most of the route. He knew all kinds of card games including one that's 'fun to play in jail'. I thought it best not to ask. In between playing cards with GED boy, I spent time looking out the windows, and even spotted a harbor seal!

In Bremerton, it was a simple matter to catch another set of buses to the housing complex where Cz's dad is staying. He met us in his nice, 1br apartment with bags of food and news that some friends would be coming over soon. Unfortunately, both Cz and I have rather spectacular colds, so wound up napping until the guests arrived. We managed to be sociable for the little party, and really had a great time.

On the return trip, the lights of Seattle glittered across the harbor. I wasn't able to get a good picture from the ferry, but once we were on solid ground we snapped this shot. Check out the building near the right side of the picture. You can just make out the Space Needle on the far left.

Love from Seattle indeed.

Day 245 - Home

2008-02-13T16:10:00.000-08:00

When we lived in Seattle, we spent very little time in our apartment. Home was the studio and our respective shops more than anywhere else, so today we sat in on Studio class (the main class for UW grads, held in where else, but in The Studio, it's to the right of the ticket office). It hasn't changed. There are a few more shelves, and there may be a new coat of paint, but there's still the coffee shakes, the completely unproduceable ideas, and the futile attempt to make sensible discussion on 3hours of sleep. I've missed that.

After class, we went to lunch with the two students left from our generation (they were first years our second year) and a group of current first years. It was comforting to feel a part of design graduate student life again; to be a part of a world with which we were so familiar.

After lunch we stopped briefly to see the major renovations being done on the theatre in which Cz did his thesis show, and then walked up to the main theatre building to visit the costume shop. Before I knew it, the afternoon had flown by, and it was too late to catch the ferry out to Bremerton to visit Cz's dad. Luckily our cell phones are back on, so Cz and I quickly called and shuffled all our commitments around in order to go out tomorrow instead.

Which has the added bonus of being able to see one production tonight, and another two friends' thesis show on Friday.

This evening's production Wild Black Eyed Susans was a bit of a mixed bag. The script read like a lifetime movie - it had several good moments, but was overly sentimental. The set, which was our reason for going, however, was lovely. The scene shop had managed to find an old trailer home (a real one) and put it onstage. The evident rot and wear that old trailor had couldn't be reproduced with new goods!

Overall, it was a very satisfying day of reminscing.

Day 244 - 2/12/08 Again...

2008-02-12T16:08:00.000-08:00

Courtesy of that wacky international date line. We actually arrived in Seattle 9 hours BEFORE we left Korea. The time difference is minus 24 (the date line), plus 7 (the seven times zones one physically crosses). Confused? I don't quite understand it either.

The flight from Korea was pretty bumpy. Luckily, I took a massive dose of motion-sickness medicine before we took off, which both kept me from feeling ill, and also knocked me out, so I was able to sleep through the worst of it. Cz was not so fortunate. I gave him some of my drugs mid-flight, but it was already too late to help very much. He was looking pretty green by the time we landed.

*sidenote* if you have no Drammamine (or even if you do) a hefty dab of Tiger Balm under the nose stings like hell but provides instant relief of motion sickness. Sipping ginger salts or chewing a bit of ginger also helps

Despite the roughness of the flight, we arrived in Seattle more than an hour ahead of schedule.

And breezed through customs. It went like so, and took less than half an hour, including waiting in line.

Customs Guy (CG) - How long have you been out of the country.

Us (with some trepidation) - 8 months

CG - What were you doing

Us - I got a travel grant through the UW

CG - Wow! That sounds great. Welcome home

And then we were back in the US. It was that simple.

A friend from the UW picked us up from the airport and brought us to the house of a longtime family friend. We ate lunch, and promptly conked out for nearly 5 hours, stirring only to change loads of laundry in the washing machine and dryer.

In the evening, we met up with several of our former classmates from the UW in our old haunt of the College Inn Pub. What was strange was how not-strange it felt. I expected to feel some distance or disconnect, but slipping back into old banter and designer-speak, eating nachos, and ordering beer by the pitcher for the table came as naturally as if we had never left.

In fact, it feels like we have been gone barely 8 weeks rather than 8 months. The amount of time only registers when I think about all the things we have seen, and realise that there is no way we could have done all that in a short time.

The strangest thing so far is being surrounded by American accents. For the whole trip, we have been able to get by with English, and have been surrounded by English-speaking fellow travellers, but never this saturation, this background babble of American voices.

It hasn't really sunk in yet that we are back in the country for good. Right now, it feels like just another stop in our travels, and in a sense, it is. We are visiting friends in Seattle for a few days, then heading to NY for a few days, and then on to Viriginia. We don't really stop travelling until March, when we (hopefully) move into an apartment of our very own in NYC. I expect that it won't hit me until the end of March or beginning of April. I will probably not be very pleasent to be around for a few weeks when that happens.

Day 243 - 2/12/08 Last Day Abroad

2008-02-12T09:27:00.000-08:00

PS from yesterday. Namdaemun Gate (the one that burned down) was inscribed with fire symbols to protect Seoul and Gyeonbukung Palace from fire. I guess it worked. The city is still standing...

Today we visited Changdeokung Palace where the unfortunate Prince Seja on whose life Intimacy Between Father and Son is based on met his demise. In both history and the play, Seja goes insane with murder and debauchery. His father, to save the dynasty, kills Seja, and names his son (the king's grandson) the new Crown Prince. That boy grows up to become one of the best loved rulers in Korean history, and the dynasty continues until the Japanese occupation in 1910.

The palace is an interesting blend of East and West. From the outside, the structures are pure traditional Korean. Inside, however, because it was used by the royal family until 1910, the furnishings and light fixtures are very European.

The palace is perhaps best known for its gardens, and for the way the buildings blend in with the surounding nature. Other palaces in Seoul are built symmetrically. Changdeokung is asymetrical, following instead the natural lay of the land. The result is a feeling of harmony throughout.

After the tour, we were too cold to find a new restaurant, so we instead visited one near the palace where had eaten before. Korean meals are as much about the condiments as they are the main dishes. However, the condiments are never listed on the menu, so even if you know what your main dish is going to be, the sides are always a surprise. The little dishes that arrived with my meal this time included pickled sweet potato vine (one of my favourites), bok choy kimchee, and candied dried squid (at least that's what I think it was) - strange, but very tasty.

After lunch, we braved the cold to make a quick dash downtown to see the Hammering Man sculpture. The sculptors' names sounded familiar, and we were both well aquainted with Seattle's Hammering Man, so we were curious to see if it was the same one. Sure enough, it was as if a little piece of the Pacific Northwest had found its way to a street corner in Seoul.

By the time we found Hammering Man - he's in the guidebook, but not on the map - we barely had time to dash back to the hostel and grab our packs before hopping on the bus to the airport.

This time tomorrow/today, courtesy of the international date line, we will be back in Seattle having lunch with a friend of the family.

Leave it to world travel to make tomorrow happen today.

Day 242 - Never Put off 'til Tomorrow...

2008-02-11T06:37:00.000-08:00

What you can do today. Because the 14th century monument you were planning to photograph might burn down in the night. Really. We had planned to take pictures of the Namdaemun Gate last night, but decided to wait until today to get both a day and a night shot. When we arrived at the hostel last night however, the entire staff was gathered around the TV watching in shock as Seoul's national treasure #1, the oldest wooden structure in the city, went up in flames. Arson is suspected. Our photo opportunity turned to ashes. Literally.

The gate stood in the heart of the business district, which could easily be mistaken for Manhattan with soaring skyscrapers standing sentry over hoardes of people all carfully choreographed by the traffic lights. We arrived right before lunchtime, and floatillas of businessmen in nearly identical suits flocked to and from the ruins on their way to lunch. It was sort of surreal.

From there, it was a little walk to the Seoul Museum of Art, which according to my guidebook, was the only museum open on Mondays. My guidebook was wrong. It was deciededly closed.

So we walked back to Namdaemun, whose market supposedly boasted a store with 2 floors of toys. Head filled with visions of Gundam, PSP's, and Transformer's, Cz really wanted to pay a visit. It too proved dissapointing, occupying only 1 floor, and containing only a few shelves of Gundam, though the market itself was pretty impressive.

Undaunted, we headed out to the (hard to find) Myong Dong Cathedral, oldest Catholic church in Korea, and known for its neogothic architecture. It was under renovation. Behind screens. At least the inside was open.

Seoul has a kimchi museum in the Coex Mall (where we spent day 1). It was closed then for the Lunar New Year. Turns out it's closed Mondays too.

By now I was so frustrated with spending my last full day in Korea travelling from burned, closed, and under renovation attractions that I was ready to hit someone. So we went to the Coex arcade and blew up a legion of zombies. That made me feel better.

Then we went to 63 Tower, Seoul's tallest building. The Imax was already closed, but the aquarium and skydeck, with views of the city were both open. In addition to the fishes, the aquarium was also home to a flock of penguins (who did not tapdance), seals, sea lions, and a friendly sea turtle.

One touch tank consisted of the standard starfish and hermit crabs, but another was populated by 'Dr fish', small fishes that feed on dead skin. Plexi boxes with finger holes invited a feeding frenzy on anyone who dunked winter-chapped fingertips. The little fish mouths tickled fiercely, and kind of gave Cz the heeby-jeebies, but he held out long enough for a picture.

A feature of every Asian aquarium seems to be the beautifully lit jellyfish display. This one was no exception with luminious jellies of every colour floating in their individual tanks.

After the aquarium, we rode the glass elevator up to the 62nd floor observation deck. Elevators make me nervous to begin with. This one had the added fear factor of being able to see all. the. way. down. All 600+ feet of it. Once on the skydeck, the walls of windows provided 360 degree views over the city of Seoul and the Han river, lit up like a Christmas Tree. There was also a section with a glass floor so one could look past one's feet all the way to the ground, some 62 stories below. It was terrifying. I did it twice. We finished out the trip with nachos overlooking the lights of the city.

It almost redeemed the rest of the day.

Day 241 - War Tourism

2008-02-10T09:25:00.000-08:00

According to US History books, the Korean War was finished 50 years ago. In Korea, however, it is not over, but rather in a state of suspended animation. The 2Km swath of the demilitarized zone (DMZ) stands as a constant reminder that North and South have not reached an agreement, merely the world's longest running cease-fire. On each side, soldiers stand ready to spring into action should either show even the slightest provocation.

The result is one of the only divided countries in the world. And one of the world's strangest tourist attractions. Who would have thought that the symbol of war and division would be the top tourist attraction for both North and South. Yet visitors flock to see the Freedom Bridge, the 3rd Tunnel of Northern Agression, and to get a chance to peer into North Korea through telescopes. Those who are lucky enough to land a Panmunjeom tour actually may walk through the UN buildings and set foot in North Korea (unfortunately they were booked solid for the duration of our visit to Korea). Similar tours with similar itineraries run from the northern side.

Both sides use these tours as a chance to play propaganda games. The South proclaims its peace and prosperity, reviling the North as barbaric agressors who starve their people and constantly threaten the South's peaceful way of life. The North on the other hand reviles the South as having loose morals, and of losing its Korean traditions as a slave to the capitalist West. Visitors to the DMZ must follow a strict dress code - no jeans, no t-shirts, no flip-flops, no shorts or miniskirts, etc. It's all a part of both sides' propaganda war. The North watches and photographs the tours coming through Panmunjeom, so the South wants, on one hand, the groups to project and air of prosperity, and on the other to prevent a scruffy Westerner from appearing on northern propaganda posters as symbol of South Korea's 'corruption by the West'.

The dress code also has a more sinister purpose. Remember, this is a cease-fire, not a signed peace treaty, and both sides still have itchy trigger fingers. At any moment either side could turn the DMZ into a RE-MZ. Visitors are not alowed to gesture, wave, talk loudly, or in any way act in any manner that could be construed as provocative. Clothes and shoes worn to the DMZ should not hinder running away.

Though we did not get to enter the DMZ we did see most of the major tourist attractions of the southern border. One of the most important duites of the oldest child is to care for thier aged parents, and when the parents die, to honour their sprits with 3 years of bi-monthly rituals. Furthermore, Lunar New Year, and Korean Thanksgiving are celebrated primarily by re-unification of families. Our first stop, Inminjeom Park, opened as a place where families divided by the war can come to honour their ancestors and relatives in the North. A stone monument faces the North, and families who cannot actually visit the homes and graves of their loved ones come here to lay flowers and make offerings of food and incense.

The park is also home to the Freedom Bridge, which was used to repatriate POW's from both sides of the Korean War. The South gave the POW's from the North the option to remain in South Korea, and many of them opted not to return. On the flip side, the North may not have released all of its POW's to the South. Some men are still missing, leaving families to wonder what happened to their loved ones. As of today the bridge terminates in a high fence topped in razor wire and festooned with prayer flags, mementoes, and wishes for the families on the other side.

Our next stop was the Third Tunnel of Northern Agression (or Infiltration - depending on your level of propaganda). Since the ceasefire was declared the North has made many atempts to infiltrate the South, both by submarine, and by tunnels under the rock. The discovery of four such tunnels have been made public knowlege, and the existence of dozens more is hinted at. When the third tunnel was discovered, the North smeared it with coal and claimed it was an abandoned coal mine. They also claimed that it had been dug by the South - a strange claim considering that its opening was on the northern side, and all the dynamite bores faced south. We apologize for the blurry picture, this taken at the termination point of the tunnel where the DMZ begins, but photography was strictly forbidden so Cz had to take this on the sly.

This third tunnel has been made open to the public as a tourist venue, and also as a reminder to the South that the North is still dangerous and agressive. According to the South's line, the cease-fire has gone on so long that the South is getting soft, and needs to be reminded of the 'perfideousness' of the North. I suspect that there is also an element of covering from old embarassment. When North Korea invaded South Korea in 1950, its army did have superior numbers and equipment. However, the initial siege was aided in no small part because many of the South's border patrols and front lines had recently been granted short and long-term vacations, leaving the border practically unguarded.

Next came the Dora Observatory where one can (heavily supervised by Royal Korean Army guards) look through telescopes across the 2km DMZ into North Korea. Through the scopes, one can watch a North Korean guard standing at his post on his respective tower, see the UN buildings at Panmunjeom, and the propaganda villages of both North and South. The propaganda villages came into being when the country was divided, it split an existing village in two. Each side built up their respective village as model for its country's prosperity. The South's half consists of a highly subsidised farming community growing rice and ginseng. The North's side is built up to look like a booming industrial town. A booming industrial town which has never been occupied, and whose factories have not turned out a single product. It does, however boast the world's tallest flagpole and the heaviest flag.

Also visible form the Dora observatory is the Reunification bridge. Opened in approx 2000, the main bridge re-connects the highway of the South to the Highway of the North. Currently, it is only open to vehicles serving the reuinifaction industrial park, located in the North, and heavily subsidized by the South, but there is hope that it is a first step towards a re-unified Korea. As of today however, the pedestrian bridge joining it to the park, and either end of the highway bridge, terminate in high fences topped in razor wire and festooned with prayer flags, mementoes, and wishes for the families on the other side.

Finally, we stopped at Dorasan Station. Until 2002, this was the last station in South Korea. In 2002, the track was re-connected with North Korea, though, like the highway, it is curently only open to cargo trains serving the reunification industrial park. Supposedly plans are underway to open the line to passenger traffic as a gesture of unification for the Bejjing Olympics. Once the full length of the track is open, it will connect Korea with both the TransChina and TranSiberia rail lines, making it possible to ride from Western Europe, through Korea, and into Eastern China entirely by rail. It's a nice thought, though I have my doubts if it will be accomplished.

Both sides play lip service to wanting re-unification, and I believe that many genuinely do want a re-unified country, and I beleive that reunification, or at least an open border, would be a good thing. Should there be re-unification, howwever, it will not be all sunshine and roses as the the South promises. Among other things, the North is devastated economically. Should re-unification happen, much of the burden of rebuilding would fall to the South, likely causing an economic crisis. And it is likely that the North would be unhappy about receiving the help. The countries have been divided long enough that there is a generation and a half of North Koreans who have been taught since infancy that capitalism is evil and that economic growth fueled by the South will take away their identity. Similarly the South has had its own fifity year propaganda campaign declaring North Koreans 'backward' and violent. I can't imagine that much prejudice can be erased easily with a simple tearing down of the fences.

All along the highway to and from the DMZ sights, the dividing fence bordered the highway. Just on the other side lay the DMZ and border. It was a 50km reminder of the country's division. The fences runs the entire breadth of Korea, maintaining a minimum 4km distance between them. This 2km-wide no man's land has remained untouched for over 50 years and covers seacoast, wetland, and mountains, making it, in essence, the most heavily fortified nature preserve in the world. Species long driven extinct in other regions maintain populations within the DMZ. On the one hand, the trees, birds, and butterflies living there can be construed a symbol of hope and of peace. Should reunification happen, both sides agree that the former DMZ should be maintained as a nature preserve. On the other hand, it is a reminder of the brutality of both sides of the conflict. It is a refuge only for only animals under a certain weight. Any species larger than a fox has long since been driven out or killed by the blanket of landmines that still pock the area.

On returning to Seoul, the bus passed the War Memorial Museum. In keeping with the day (and having heard it was one of the not-to-be-missed museums of Seoul, we decided to pay a visit. Inside, comprehensive exhibits chronicle the history of Korean involvement in warfare around the world, with focus on early warfare, the UN, and the Korean and Vietnam Wars. What struck me most was that ever since people invented national or territory boundries, there has never been world peace. Ever. Every year, without exception, there has been some conflict, somewhere, in the world. Sometimes the war is civil, sometimes international, sometimes it is listed simply as a 'skirmish' or 'unrest', conflict, in varying degrees, is constant.

Some choice exhibits included the UN wing of the Korean War. I had no idea so many countries were involved, and how extensively. Over 2 large rooms, mannequins representing the different uniforms of each country stood next to models of their respective monuments erected all over Korea and placards detailing their involvement in the conflict. In the center of the room a giant tear contructed of dog tags and wrapped in barbed wire hung suspended from the UN seal. It represented a mourning for the losses of war, and a hope for peace. Several such monuments, illustrating hope for re-unification, or of world peace dotted the museum and grounds. For a war museum, there were a surprising number of monuments to peace.

The peace monuments are a positive example of Soputh Korea's propaganda campaign. On the other hand, every exhibit has a strong nationalistic bent. In each document of a battle whenever the South Korean army is pushed back, it is called 'A Strategic Retreat'. Whenever the other guy gets pushed back, he 'runs away'.

The central hall of the history wing was dominated by one of Admiral Yi's 'Turtle ships'. Admiral Yi has the most successful record of any naval captain, having defeated a Japanese fleet of over 300 with only 13 of his turtle boats. The small ironclad boats were far more maneuverable than the massive Japanese boats, and furthermore, they could shoot in all directions simultaneously. Admiral Yi would navigate his little ships into the middle of a cluster of Japanese boats, and then open fire, decimating them.

Popular with kids, big and little, was the wing filled with North Korean war machines. Nearly every vehicle had a set of steps leading up to it, so one could climb in and out of the driver's seat. It was almost as much fun as the bronze stegasaurus outside the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History.

As we left the museum, the sun was setting behind a statue of two brothers, North and South, embracing. I hope someday in the future it is more than just a hope.

After our big day of war tourism, we decided to have a nice dinner. Yesterday I found a little back street packed with tiny restaurants. Surprisingly, I was able to retrace my steps to a traditional Korean barbeque joint with floor seating, and individual grills on each table. We were the only non-Koreans there, but the menu had pictures, and the waitress spoke a smidge of English, so there were no surprises, which though less exciting, did mean that we were guaranteed a delicious meal.

After dinner, we queued up for the most popular street treat, a kind of donut filled with cinnamon syrup and nuts. Keeping with the theme of the day, we then went across the street to the arcade to shoot zombies. Afterwards, we stopped for tea in an adorable tea shop designed to feel like an old-fashioned rail car.

Finally, we decided to indulge in a form of nightlife particular to Korea - the DVD Bang. For about the price of a movie ticket, one gets a DVD and little room with a couch and large-screen projector TV. Throw in popcorn and drinks for a few extra won, and you have your own private theatre experience. We opted for Curse of the Golden Flower, though not Korean, it was at least Asian, and neither of us had seen it yet.

We finally returned to the guesthouse at about 2AM, having been out since 7:30AM. It was a thoroughly satisfying day.

Day 240 - I May Need to Rename this Blog

2008-02-09T01:33:00.000-08:00

It's day 240 of Around the World in 240 Days, and we're still halfway around the world. We will be in South Korea until Feb 12, and have decided to continue the blog until we are all the way back in VA (chronicling our visit to Seattle and our quest for a home in NYC) to make it a full circle.

Seoul is an excellent last stop abroad. The climate and atmosphere are all New York, but it is still undeniably foreign. There is a sense of history and of pride in history much stronger than anywhere else we have visted. I think this in part simply because there is so much history - South Korea has had civilization pretty much since civilization was invented - and in part cultural - In no other country we have stopped in are ancestors and tradition as revered as they are here.

This manifests in strange ways. Part of the culture of traditon is a culture of repect and integrity, resulting in Seoul being one of the safest cities in the world - statistically more than twice as safe as NY. I sort of took feeling safe here for granted and let it slip out of conscious thought until I noticed that the subway cars have luggage racks. And people were using them for everything from innocuous boxes to very clearly laptop computer bags. And the owners were actually napping on the seats below. Sleeping. I can't imagine falling asleep on a NY subway, let alone while my laptop sits unlocked and in plain view on a shelf over my head. But here, no one even blinked, no one's stuff was stolen, and the subway system is just as extensive, and nearly as busy as the one in NY.

Lunar New Year has passed, which means that all the museums are finally open. Today we went first to the Seolodang Prison Museum, which we had tried to visit on Thursday. It is a complex of buildings designed to torture and detain Koreans who dared to oppose Japanese rule 1910-1945. The prison was originally constructed to house only 500 inmates, but at times it could be crammed with over 3000.

The museum is clearly intended to detail the atrocities of the Japanese towards the occupied Koreans. Cell blocks are restored to give vistors an impression of what life here might have been like. Everything is carefully oraganised. Long grey corridors with overhead catwalks fan out from a central point with overhead to allow ease in controlling prisoners. Rooms decked out with vaguely cheesy mannequins graphically illustrate the tortures endured by prisoners nearly nonstop.

Perhaps most powerful is the execution room, a simple wooden structure behind a 2m stone fence. The inside is set up like a small theatre house with the condemned on a stool behind a procenium complete with curtains, and the officials seated in rows on risers. When the lever was pulled, the stool dropped, and the prisoner hanged. Behind the building a set of stairs lead to the basement so a guard can secretly go down to make sure he is dead. After that, the body is whisked away via secret tunnels to a public cemetery.

More than the brutality, what struck me most in the exhibits was reverence in which the rebels are held. In every dsplay, they are referred to as 'our noble ancestor' , 'our patriotic ancestor' or even 'our revered ancestor' . I believe it is partly the cultural respect for ancestors mentioned above, and partly national pride/propaganda.

The other thought that struck me was that once again how history is written by whomever is currently in power. No doubt, the Japanese occupation was wrong, thousands of people wrongly imprisoned, and unspeakable violence done. The prison and the history books make that clear. That said, one of the displays was a diorama of a Korean village in which holographic figures act out scenes from the occupation. In one, a Korean scholar lobs a molotav coctail into a trio of Japanese, killing all three. Surely, had the rebellion failed, there would be a very different museum in place hailing the strong rule of the Japanese against the Korean 'terrorists'.

From the prison, we had a banquet of museums from which to choose. We opted for the National Museum of Contemporary Art. Once again we got more than we bargained for. The directions to the museum simply state "take subway line 5 to Grand Park". Grand park, is in fact, a huge park complex comprising not just our museum, but a zoo, a science center, an amusement park, and a park as we think of them (grass, trees, ponds, etc). It was so huge that we opted to use the park's tram system rather than walk the 30 minutes across the park in the cold.

Once we arrived at the museum we were in for another lucky surprise. The 2nd Saturday of every month the museum is totally free! The museum is housed in a 3-storey open-plan building. The review in the guidebook called it dissapointing, saying that there was too much unused space. Personally I prefer museum to give the art a little 'breathing room'.

We whiled away the rest of the afternoon getting an overview of 20th century Korean art. In many ways it did not seem to differ too much from American modern art. Perhaps this is a mistaken conception, as most modern art galleries in the US display works from around the globe, but I suspect that it has more to do with the transfer of information. Before the 20th century, communication was slow and though extensive in its reach (global trade, and hence global communication is not a new idea), it was very limited in scope. By the 20th century, however, communication had become fast and widepread. As a result ideas flowed back and forth across continents and cultures, resulting in a much more homogeonised art scene. That's my theory anyway.

The art museum was a good ride away from home, and as the temperature dropped with the setting of the sun, we were very grateful for the heated subway seats. The MTA could take a clue here!

Day 239 - SNOW!!!!!!

2008-02-08T00:35:00.000-08:00

IT'SSNOWINGIT'SSNOWINGIT'SSNOWING!!!!!!!! Only flurries, but still, fluffy white bits tumbling out of a cloud-dark sky. I love snow, and this is my first snow in over a year. SNOW!!!!....And two days ago we were in t-shirts and shorts fighting off mosquitoes.

But that's just this evening. Once we shook off the two hour jet lag, we had a culture-filled day.

One of the plays we designed at UW was Oh Tae Sok's Intimacy Between Father and Son. The play is based on real events which took place in the 18th century during the Choson (Jeoson/ Joson) Dynasty. Documentation of the events ranges from royal papers supporting the king, to the published memoirs of the widow of the son he murdered, and none is even remotely unbiased. The tangled interpersonal relationships within the 18th century court mirror the complicated relationship of North and South Korea, and in fact, the original 1970's production made use of these parallels. All of this would have been valuable information on the project, yet most keys to discovering it remain firmly locked in-country.

Over the centuries, Korea had been invaded, occupied and torn apart. Victors and the powerful write the history books, dooming Korea to a fragmentory shadow in most Westerners' minds. For that show, most of us spent hours combing every library on campus, and coming up with a wealth of images from Japan and China, but virtually nothing from Korea. We have been lucky to uncover some of it in our short time here, but I feel that the full complexity of the play cannot be understood without 3000 years of history and a DMZ at the back door.

Being in South Korea is an interesting experience. There are hoardes of tourists, but mostly from Japan or other parts of Korea. We have seen very few Westerners at all, and of the few we have talked to, most, like us, did not initially plan on coming here. It almost feels like a forbidden kingdom, an unknown place, even though its doors have been open longer than most of the other countries we have visted over the past months.

South Korea is rarely on the front pages, but it is an economic powerhouse, boasting the 34th highest GDP per capita in the world. Among all the modern wealth and bustle, there remains a palpable sense of the past. Ancient palaces and temples rub shoulders with modern high-rise buildings. Rituals and relics of its agrarian past are carefully preserved in courtyards alongside highways teeming with modern SUV's. And lurking behind it all is the memory of repeated invasions by China and Japan, and the ever present shadow of the DMZ and the armies of the North sitting just 60Km from Seoul.

Today we visted Gyeobungkun Palace. As we left our guesthouse, we heard drumming and other music coming from a courtyard nearby. The gate was open, and we were greeted by a group of musicians, and scattered clumps of people trying on traditional Korean dress, and playing traditional games from the countryside. We assumed the merriment was to celebrate the new year (this assumption ws later confiremed at the folk museum - these sorts of games have been played every New Year for at least 1500 years).

As we walked, we passed a restaurant wth pictures of the food in the wndow. In a country that doesn't use the Roman alphabet, and in which English not widely spoken, a pictorial menu is a great invention. We each pointed to dishes what looked tasty, and were pleasantly surprised when the meals that appeared actually looked nicer than the pictures. We've never had that happen before!

By the time we finished lunch, we were too late to catch the tour of the palace complex nearest our guesthouse (which I just discovered is where the historical events of the play actually happened), but instead opted to visit Gyeongbokgung Palace, the largest palace in Seoul. In addition to the Josen buildings, the complex also houses several museums dedicated to preserving Korean art and culture.

We arrived right at 2PM, just in time to watch the changing of the guard. Like the beefeaters in front of Buckingham, the Korean palace guards never change expression as they stand before the palace. The changing of the guard involved all the usual pomp and ceremony, including a large drum, exchanging of secret passwords and identity cards, and salutes with swords. For one moment before the crowd surged forward to begin their palace tours, the guards appeared to stand alone and at attention before the massive gate.

The architecture inside the complex mirrored that of the outer wall and gate. Graceful curved roofs with elaborately painted eaves shelters austere rooms with minimal furnishing. Most traditional Korean homes are heated through ondol, or under-floor heating systems. As a result, life is lived near to the ground, with no need for the glut of furniture found in European palaces.

The finest of the museums was the Museum of Folk Culture. Our experience was greatly enhanced by an enthusiastic English interpreter/curator/volunteer guide who walked us through each exhibit. Through him, we learned that not only is kimchi a tasty snack, but that it is internationally recognised as one the 5 healthiest foods in the world. In previous centuries, Koreans would ferment huge vats of kimchi underground. Today, most Seoulites live in apartments, but they still make their own kimchi, and have even invented a special kind of refrigerator just for that purpose!

In the rural village part of the museum, he explained the symbolism and reasons behind everything from the village totem poles to the layouts of the houses. Had he not been there we would not have learned half as much as we did. There were placards explaining some things, but nothing so good as a some one who really knows and loves the meanings and histories of things walking you through them step-by-step.

I was especially excited about the costume exhibits. Most of the garments represtented different classes and professions from the Choson dynasty. If we did Intimacy Between Father and Son again, I could design the hell out of it!

This evening we ventured out to find winter woolies for Cz. As noted in the title of the post, while we were eating dinner, it began to SNOW. Cz was made doubly happy that we found a woolie hat, sweater, and scarf with minimal hunting.

As we walked the market and tucked into our pizza dinner, we were struck by the similarities between Seoul and NYC. Not just the weather, but the skyscrapers, the lights, even the extremely fashionably dressed couples breezing past in their identical black coats.

In other ways, Seoul reminds me of Europe. Just as 10th century cathedrals loom over modern city blocks in England and France, in Seoul, 13th century belltowers surprise in the shadow of ultra-modern skyscrapers. We took these pictures from the same street corner in our neighborhood. In one direction, a tiny park with a belltower from the 14th century, in another, the Jongho Tower, a monument to modern consumerism.

We have only been in Seoul 2 days, and are already feeling easy and comfortable because it is so like NYC, but at the same time bowled over by the sudden influx of history we never knew. Be prepared for more long-winded history and politics laden posts. I won't be offended if you just look at the pretty pictures.

Day 238 - Seoul of Asia

2008-02-07T19:56:00.000-08:00

We left Bangkok in nighttime temperatures of over 30C. We arrived in South Korea to a daytime temperature of -7C. South indeed. I could gripe, but to be honest, I have missed the seasons. It was sort of exhilarating to step off the plane and to feel the cold radiating through the glass of the arrival tunnel. Also because of the cold, despite being a major city with all the attendant traffic, the air is remarkably crisp and fresh-smelling.

After checking into our hostel, our first order of business was to find some lunch. Being Lunar New Year, the restaurant we had planned to visit was closed (along with everything else on its block). We opted instead to go down a promising alley with many signs, selecting a place that claimed on its door 'English Menu". I may need to have some words with Korean restauranteurs on honesty in advertising. There was no English menu. There was no menu. There was no English. Period. Somehow through hand gestures and the collective help of half the other patrons, we found ourselves with bowls of Bibimpap, which we thought only came with beef. Apparently not. This was a salad and tuna sushi affair atop a bed of rice with about 5 different sides. The owners were apparently tickled with our complete ineptitude, and saw to it that we mixed our condiments properly, and even brought us a big bowl of house specialty soup - on the house. We couldn't understand a word of what each other was saying, but it was an entirely enjoyable experience. We will study up the Korean phrasebook section of our Lonely Planet and actually try to order something tomorrow. As we were leaving I saw two young men recieving grilled herring with an entourage of mysterious small bowls. A goal for tomorrow...

In Thailand, Seoul is currently running an ad campaign that goes "Visit Seoul, Soul of Asia". Indeed, it is a neat city. The people here are all phenominally well-dressed. Everyone seems to be slim and beautiful, even bundled up in winter layers. No parkas here - only designer coats and hugely expensive shoes. And everyone wears black or grey. It's really not that far removed from the more posh neighborhoods of NY.

One of the city's best features is the abundance of public art. Every high-rise built after a certain date (I believe late-seventies, but I could be mistaken) is required to have a sculpture in front. The results are sometimes interesting, often easily missed, and occasionally quite charming. This giant traditional ink brush in the summer actually has a flow of water running from its bristles through the 'brushstroke'. Now it is dry, though I think it would make a splendid mini ice rink.

We had planned on visiting the Prison Museum today, as it only has English-speaking guides on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Unfortunately, it was closed for Lunar New Year. As we eventually devised most of the museums in town would be. So we revised our plan.

We instead headed for the Coex Aquarium, only one part of a massive (as in over a kilometer long) underground mall. And we were in luck - not only was the aquarium open, but they were offering a hefty discount on the tickets. We wiled away the afternoon in warm indoor comfort admiring the fishes and oddities.

One room was dedicated entirely to 'Liberating fish from the bowl'. Epspecially clever was the computer whose tropical reef screensaver served as the backround for a school of real tropical fish. There was also a washing machine full of mollies, a refrigerator whose crispers were swimming with goldfish, televisions with screens full of fish, and a traffic signal with a siamese fighting fish in each light.

In a much larger (and more naturalistic) display, huge morey eels gaped, while sharks and rays glided by. Several of the rays seemed quite sociable coming right up to the glass and seeming to smile and wave.

And no aquarium would be complete without the sideshow oddity. In this case, a two-headed turtle, living in apparent comfort in his own private wing of a pond filled with his more conventionally-domed brethren.

After the aquarium, we were reluctant to face the cold. Since all the museums we had intended to visit were closed anyway, we opted instead to rot our brains at the local arcade. There were games for all ages and tastes, from simple match 'em games for the younger set to complex sniper shooting games for the big kids. We joined the throngs of Korean kids zapping zombies, shooting bad guys, playing table hockey, and putting out fires in the White House until our designated game money ran out.

With some reluctance, we left the arcade in the hopes of catching the English Language screening of Charlie Wilson's War (we still weren't ready to face the cold). Unfortunately, it was sold out, so face the cold we did.

We made it home without a hitch. The Korean subway system is far more orderly than the NYC, but the lack of English signs adds the necessary element of adventure. Once back at the hostel, we thawed out with bowls of noodle soup, and the underfloor hearting system, one of the features for which we chose this place.

Most of the museums will probably be closed tomorrow too, though I heard rumors that one of the palaces was open. If not, there is a highrise shopping center downtown with yet another aquarium, an Imax theatre, and a 62nd floor observation deck. These just might be the two days we that we indulge in [observing] conspicuous consumption.

Day 237 - When is a Planetarium Not a Planetarium?

2008-02-06T18:27:00.001-08:00

When it's the Bangkok Educational Science Center! Listed simply as a planetarium, the science center actually consist of a planetarium PLUS 4 more science museums. Admission to all four museums plus the planetarium costs less than $3 (As opposed to the $18 for the NYC planetarium and science museum). The guidebook also says to allow at least a half day for the museum[s].

We were there for the reccomended half day and only managed to hit the planetarium and two of the museums.

Our first stop was the main physics and technology museum. Unfortunately one wing was closed, but that didn't stop us from playng with the childrens' exibits, climbing through a giant computer, and checking out the robot exhibit - which featured among other things screening of I Robot in Tai.

Afterwards we wandered through the Ocean Life museum and admired the fish. We didn't understand much, as most of the signs were entirely in Thai, but occasionally the fish names were in written English. I would not want to be caught downriver from this fellow.

Also in the exhibit were several aquariums of corals and reef fish. We were endlesly amused taking pictures of ourselves 'underwater'.

At 2:30, we trouped into the planetarium. It has been ages since either of us had been to a planetarium show, and we had forgotten how much we love the star-making machine. Once again, the dialogue was entirely in Thai, but the displays were great. It was especially neat seeing the Thai versions of familiar (and unfamiliar) constellations. No 'Big Bear' 'Little Bear' here. Thais see in the stars curling dragons, naga, and all manner of mythical half bird, half human creatures.

After the planetarium show, we wandered through the attached space museum looking at model rockets, satellites, and launchers. Who knew that Kazakistan had its own launcher and satellites?

By the time we blinked our way back into the sunlight, it was nearly 4PM and the other museums were closing down. We never even set foot in the Environmental Hall or the Museum of Medicine.

At a loss as what to do with the last few hours we had left in Bangkok, we wandered over to the Foodmall across the street from the museums. I had a huge headache, and was hoping a caffeinated drink would clear it up (it did, along with the tylenol). While there, we discovered that there was an English language screening of Sweeny Todd playing at 5PM. We had our solution of for how to entertain ourselves for our last night in Bangkok!

After the film, we ate a noodle dinner from one of our regular foodstalls, did some last-minute shifting of packs to make them more airline-friendly, and were soon on our way. The cabdriver drove as if pursued, and we made it to the airport in record-time. The check-in process was smooth, but for Cz's very suspicious thermometer, of course buried in the very bottom of his pack. After figuring out that was what had set off the sensors, even the security staff couldn't figure out why, and were very apologetic. Best we can figure is that the heat made the mercury rise and so the thermometer looked like a thn metal rod on the scanner.

In any case, we were soon tucked into our comfy Korean Air seats. As with the other Asian airlines, Korean Air is supremely comfortble, with foldable headrests, and near constant traffic from the stewardesses offering snacks and drinks. We are so unused to the treatment that it seemes almost a pity to sleep through most of it.

Day 236 - Bangkok Hit List

2008-02-05T04:20:00.000-08:00

We were not very ambitious tourists the last time we were in Bangkok. Today we decided to make up for lost time, but not before lunch at the fish and soup lady's stall. She remembered us!

We stopped first at the Vimanek Teak Mansion, the largest golden teak building in the world, apparently. Built in 1900, the royal family lived there for 6 years before moving and using the place simply as a storehouse for the royal furniture. In the 1980's the current queen decided to re-open not only the teak mansion, but the surrounding buildings as museums. As a result, the teak mansion is now just one of 14 small museums scattered across the former palace grounds.

The Dusit Throne Room was built around the same time as the teak mansion in a Moorish style. Today it is a crafts center showcasing traditional Thai handicrafts. Especially striking were the little sculptures and boxes 'enameled' with mosaics made of tiny bits of beetle wings.

The grounds also house the grand Throne Hall, a neoclassical beast, approximately 85 metres long. It was getting late in the day, so we opted not to visit, only to take photos from the outside.

Most visitors to Bangkok stay on Kao San Road, the backpackers' ghetto. We felt we would be remiss if we didn't at least visit this most famous street. Stopping there, I can see why so many people we have met have had less than kind things to say about Bangkok. It was crowded, dirty, and oh-so-commercial. Most of the kids there were quite young with fresh sunburns from the islands, or with plans to head to the islands at the nearest chance. Popular with boys were dreadlock extensions - so many clean-cut college kids were sitting under the nimble fingers of Thai ladies having their J-Crew preppy hair transformed into world-traveller ratty dreads. Equally popular with the girls (all white, mostly blonde) were having either braided extensions, or tiny braids put in all over their heads, complete with beads on the ends. Perhaps no one told them that they are on the entirely wrong set of islands for that style.

Feeling sufficiently touristed, we decided to head for home. I figured if we aimed for the sun (it was late afternoon) we would be heading west, and would eventually hit the river, and by extension, the river taxis. This reconing made Cz very nervous, but he had no better idea, so off we went. Sure enough, within a few blocks, we reached a sign pointing towards Wat Pra Kaew, which I knew was right on one of the main ferry stops. From there it was easy as pie to just follow the arrows back to the riverfront and hop on the water taxi back to the skytrain.

Back in our neighborhood, I was disapointed to find that pumpkin custard lady had taken the night off. Cz went for a massage, and I consoled myself with a sticky rice and mango. After his massage and some internetting, we went for dinner at all our favourite street stalls, and then caught the skytrain back out to the night market. Once again I was disappointed - bra lady no longer appeared to have a table - but we did finish up the last of our gift buying.

Day 235 - Happy Chances

2008-02-04T18:19:00.000-08:00

The Chiang Mai University which is near our hostel has an attached gallery. Said gallery is usually closed on Mondays, but I had seen a neat exhibit through the window when I passed by after closing on Sunday, and wanted to show Cz. When we arrived, the doors were open. Perplexed, we wandered in, and no one tried to stop us. The exhibit was called "In My Mother's Footsteps", about a woman who goes back to Germany and later Eastern Europe to trace the route her mother took during the Holocaust as a Jewish prisoner. It was a very good exhibit, and there is apparently a documentary film coming out about it if you are curious.

Better though were the exhibits upstairs. Little did we know, but we had stumbled into the last-minute setup of the undergrad thesis shows. Much of their work was far better than even grad level work at home, and we were duly impressed. That said, we couldn't help but feel a little warm and fuzzy nostalgia as we watched the kids frantically painting, stapling, and installing away.

After the museum, we debated having a sushi lunch or visiting the Wat nearest to our guesthouse. Luckily Wat won out - sushi is everywhere, Thai Wats, only Thailand. We were well-rewarded. This was the finest wat so far in Chiang Mai. The golden Chedi housing the Buddha relics sits serenely over a cluster of shining white stupas containing the ashes of departed royal family members. The temple itself had been destroyed over the centuries, but the golden Buddha collection still stands proud ina lovely painted shelter with some traditional architectural details. Best of all, there were only two other foreign visitors. Everyone else there were monks or locals. It was a fine way to end our Chiang Mai sightseeing.

We still had time for a quick late lunch, and indulged ourselves in another round of Mike's burgers before grabbing our packs and heading out to the train station.

When we arrived at our platform, the grimy cars and diesel-belching engines did not inspire confidence. When we purchased our tickets, all the cheap sleepers were sold, so we had to splash out on 2-tier AC (for all of $22 each for a 14hour night train). That was the best thing that could have happened to us. When in seat position, the chairs were soft and huge enough to curl up it. The train flashed through the mountains with nary a curve nor a bump - far better than a bus. We played cards on the nearly full-sized table provided us until bedtime. And then the real treat.

The seats tranformed into two almost twin-size beds one above the other. Not only that, but they came with 2" thick mattresses (on top of the already nice surface), sheets, pillows, a blanket, even curtains to block out light and noise from the other berths.

We should arrive in Bangkok bright eyed and bushy tailed with this kind of service.

Day 234 - White Elephants Cannot Be Trusted

2008-02-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

According to legend, when a new Buddha relic was discovered by the king of Chiang Mai, no one could decide where to build a temple to house it. The king decided to put the relic on the back of a white elephant (sacred animal, but not too bright) and release him in the center of town. Wherever the elephant stopped, the temple would be built.

The elephant headed for the hills. Literally. He marched himself about 6km out of town before stopping on a crest overlooking the budding city. So a Wat and Chedi (Thai stupa - where Buddha relics go) were built on the spot. With the advent of automobiles, a winding road was subsequently added. And I do mean winding with bonus ups and downs.

By the time we arrived at the top of the hill all we could do was stare dizzily about and rub our roiling bellies. Dread in anticipation of the ride down did not improve moods.

We did manage to coax ourselves into the cablecar and the rest of the way up the hill to the Wat (That was one ambitious elephant!). The Wat itself was nice, but not any nicer than others we have visited. Same for the view over town - nice, but we've seen better. Furthermore, the whole complex was crawling with people, and the whole thing felt rather touristic. Of course this is probably coloured by the fact that we still hadn't completely recovered from the ride up.

We did meet this fellow guarding one of the entrances. Someone clearly had a 'complicated' relationship with their parents.

The ride down the hill was nearly as bad as the ride up. We didn't toss our cookies, but our tummies made their displeasure known for the rest of the day.

The owner of our hostel was a tourguide before going into hostelling, and so arranges outings for anyone who cares to join nearly every day. Today's agenda was to visit the oldest Wat in town, the first section of the city to be built, adn the Sunday Night Market, the biggest and best in town.

We began at the old Wat which was just as nice as the one on top of the hill, and far easier to reach. The light was perfect causing the old bricks and the saffron robes of the monks sweeping and tending the grounds to glow. The hostel owner was most knowlegeable, giving us not ony a brief history of the Wat, but of Thailand as a whole.

From there, we went into the old city wall where we learned more history, including the story of the ambitious white elephant. Once off the wall, it was only a short hop to the sunday market.

Every Sunday night, the two main cross streets in the old town close completely to vehicles and transform into a 2km by 2km open-air market. Anything and everything is on sale from crafts to mass produced goods to pirated CD's and DVD's. And food. Much of it is conventional (good) street fair - fruit, phad thai, spring rolls, soups - but some of it strays into the bizzare. When I say you can find any meat on a stick, I mean any meat on a stick. Including a giant cockroach. I should have made a video of me crunching him to bits to play in my kitchen in NY. It would be way safer to the cats than roach bombing...though perhaps it could put a dent in my social life...

After the market, we all piled into a shared taxi and headed back to our own quiet neighborhood. Where we had a lovely (and so conventional) soup and rice dinner before walking back to our hostel for another round of TV before bed.

Day 233 - Party Time

2008-02-02T01:43:00.000-08:00

Our visit to Chiang Mai just happened to coincide with the annual flower festival. For the festival, several streets are closed to traffic and filled with vendors selling all sorts of plants, flowers, and tasty snacks. Most exciting are the strawberries. In addition to being spring flower season, it is also the peak of strawberry season, and the strawberries from South Vietnam and North Thailand are considered some of the best in the world. We ate a lot of berries and took a lot of photos.

For dinner, the hostel owner took a large group of us to the Thai barbeque. There were so many of us that a few had to (chose to) ride on the roof and watch the city lights stream by. Every weekend, a building like an open-sided airplane hanger is equipped with table-top grills, platters of fresh food, and a live band. Literally thousands of Thais (and the few lucky foreigners who know about it) gather together to cook, eat, and talk. It's good fun.

Afterwards, we all went out for Karaoke. In Thailand, Japanese-style Karaoke is wildly popular. Rather than taking place in an open bar, groups of friends can rent out rooms of various sizes, each equipped with a karaoke machine. Everyone sings together, eliminating stage fright or performance anxiety. The drinks menu might also have something to do with this.

Overall, it was a properly festive day, beginning to end.

Day 232 - Burnin' Down the House...

2008-02-01T08:44:00.001-08:00

...Or Cz goes to cooking school.

Chiang Mai is known for its excellent Thai cuisine. As such, almost everyone who visits here takes at least one day worth of cooking classes. Even Cz was not immune.

We began the day with a market tour. Our guide (and cooking teacher for the day) could be a stand-up comedian. I recognised most of the veggies and herbs that he pointed out, but he amused us by making jokes about the 'Thai' names for things, and by calling some of the well-known veggies by their Dutch names, to the surprise of the Dutch in the group, and the amusement of the English-speakers.

Best of all, we learned how to not only make Phad Thai, but to do it with impressive displays of flame-throwing. Not exactly home-kitchen friendly, but loads of fun.

So without further ado....

Some recipes.

Tom Yam Soup

Ingredients: (2 small servings)
1 cup water or stock (veg, chicken, or seafood)
3 thin slices ginger, peeled
3 1" pieces lemongrass
1 shallot roughly crushed (smash it with the side of a knife) and cut into 3 pieces
1-5 small green chilies roughly crushed (smash with the side of a knife)
1-2 Kaffir lime leaf vein removed torn into pieces (1/2 tsp lime zest would work fine)
2-4 mushrooms cut into chunks (we used straw mushrooms, any other kind is fine too)
1/4 tomato, sliced
Protein - can be prawns, tofu, fish, thinly sliced chicken, pork, beef...about 1/4 cup whatever you like
1Tbs fish sauce (soy sauce will do)
Cilantro (coriander leaves) to taste
1Tbs lime juice (fresh squeezed is best)
1 tsp sweet chili paste (optional)
1 clove garlic, skin removed, smahed and cut in half

Bring water or stock to a boil on high heat

Add all ingredients except cilantro and lime juice

Cook until everything is cooked through (1-2 minutes)

Remove from heat

Add cilantro and lime juice

Serve with rice, yoghurt, or beer (all of these things cut the heat)

Phad Thai (The Thai dish that almost all Westerners like)

Ingredients (for one serving)
1c fresh rice noodles (or soaked and drained dried rice noodles)
1 clove garlic smashed, skin on (smash with the flat side of a knife. The pan will be very hot, and the skin will keep the garlic from burning)
1/4c firm tofu, chopped (chicken, prawns, or pork are also fine)
1-2Tbs oil (any kind EXCEPT olive or sesame)
1/3c Bean sprouts
1 egg, beaten
1/4 cup water (optional ONLY if you want flames)
2 chives cut into 1" pieces

Sauce:
1tsp fish sauce (soy sauce is fine)
1Tbs white sugar, palm sugar, or maple syrup
1 Tbs tamirind juice (you make by adding boiling water to tamarind paste or powder - fresh lemon juice is an OK substitute)
1Tbs soy sauce

Condiments:
Crushed chilies
Crushed unsalted peanuts
Lime wedge

Place oil in wok and heat over medium until smoking

Add protein (tofu or meat) and garlic

Stir until tofu is brown or meat is nearly cooked

Add noodles and water (water is optional the water is what makes the flames)

Keep stirring one minute

Turn heat to low

Add sauce ingredients

Return heat to medium, and cook for 1 more minute

Push noodles to side of wok

Add sprouts and chives and put noodles on top (the noodles will keep the steam in on the veg, the veg will keep your noodles from burning)

Push veg and noodles to side of wok

Add a bit of oil on the other side

Turn heat up to high and pour in egg to make a thin omelet

When egg is nearly cooked, spoon noodle and veg mix on top and turn off the heat

Fold egg around noodles and veg

OR

After adding a bit of oil to other side of wok, just scramble the egg on that side

Once the egg is cooked, toss together with noodles and veg

This method actually tastes better, it's just not as pretty

Note: Phad Thai, as with most Thai dishes, is best cooked in batches of 1-2 servings, as the key to the flavour is to cook everything very fast at high heat.

Day 231 - East Meets West

2008-01-31T05:26:00.000-08:00

The three days getting to Chiang Mai pretty much wiped us out. For our first day in Thailand's 'cultural capital', we did...NOTHING. Well, not much anyway.

We began by waking up late. I updated the blog and surfed Craigslist for apartments. Cz watched movies for what was left of the morning. At 1, we went across town to the train station to book our tickets back to Bangkok. Tickets in hand, we returned to our neighborhood for an oh-so-greasy, oh-so-Western, and oh-so-good burger lunch.

The burger joint is called Mike's and looks like a classic American diner. It's motto reads 'converting vegetarians since 1979'. I can see why. I do plan to go back to my partial veggie ways when I return home, but for now, that was a damn fine burger.

It was nearly 4 by the time we returned to the hostel, where we resumed doing...nothing. The common room is graced with several comfy chairs and floor cushions, a large TV, and American series on DVD. It is an enormous time suck, and our time was effectively sucked.

We had planned on going on a night tour of Chiang Mai with a group of people from the hostel, but unfortunately right about dusk, it began pouring rain. Most unfortunate, especially considering that part of the night tour was to celebrate Spicy Thai (the hostel) being voted #2 hostel in all of Asia. Undaunted, the hostel owner moved the party home, with bucket drinks, snacks and music.

We might not have seen much of Chiang Mai, but we certainly saw a lot of what makes Spicy Thai worth its new crown.

Day 230 - Back to Thailand

2008-01-30T08:03:00.000-08:00

Houay Xai sits on the Laos side of the Mekong. Chiang Khong occupies on the Thai side. At one point, there were plans to build a bridge to connect the two, but the economic crash of 1997 put the skids on those plans, and they have yet to be resumed. As of today, small longtail boats ferry people and goods back and forth across the border for a small fee.

Once on the Thai side, one walks through the imposing welcome gate to the far less imposing customs house where a bored official stamps passports after a cursory glance. There is none of the 'paying for the stamp' and visa-questioning malarky that we have encountered at half the other wayside posts. Thailand is probably the most developed of the mainland SE asian countries (Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam), and the ease of entry seems proof of this.

Within a few minutes, we have purchased our bus ticket for Chiang Mai, paid a visit to the 7-11 (they are everywhere in Thailand), and even caught up on e-mails. It is sort of nice being back where nearly everything is easy and familiar. Along with being the most developed, Thailand is easily the most Western of the SE Asian nations. A strange phenominon considering that it was the only one never a Western colony.

A long bus ride later, we finally arrive in Chiang Mai. No one seems to know where our guesthosue is, so we go online to get the address and some rudimentary direction. We hail a tuk-tuk driver who swears up an down that he knows out guesthouse. He does not. We circle the city for ages while he asks all his fellow drivers how to get there. FINALLY we find it tucked away on a quiet residential street.

We are met by our friend J, who we met in Bangkok, and are soon happily chatting away with the other guests and watching American TV series on pirated DVD's. Most of the guests here planned to stay for a few days, and have ended up staying here two weeks or more. It is a friendly, homey place, and easy to see the appeal. I'm sort of sad to have the hard departure date because of the flight, but glad to be leaving on a high note.

Day 229 - Same Same...

2008-01-29T05:07:00.000-08:00

...But different. That's what all the vendors say when you try to compare their goods with the stall next door. The same could be applied to our second day on the river.

The morning seemd to indicate another day of cold and rain, but a few hours in, the clouds broke, and blue rain-washed skys shone down. The weather was perfect - like October on the East coast - warm sun, cool breeze, and clear air all around.

According to Cz, this was perfect napping weather.

Since the paving of many roads in Laos, river travel has in many places been relegated to tourist traffic. Read: Too expensive for us. Hence, we have had to scrap the idea of going by water from Cambodia through Laos, and have had to rely primarily on the far less romantic, but much cheaper buses. However, there is no direct road from Luang Prabang to the border. Or rather, the road exists, but it is unpaved and tortuously windy, so many people, locals included, still use the river routes. Our boat was probably half locals, and half foreigners. As we motored, we passed other boats laden with cargo, people, even one with a herd of patient buffalo on board.

All along the banks, life continued as I imagine it has for centuries. Little boys splashed and fished. Men hauled fishing nets and set traps, and ladies washed children and clothes in equal measure. Above the water line, whole families worked together to knock the seeds out of grasses and lay them out to dry for the new year's thatch.

As we neared Huay Xai, the border town where we would be spending the night, the sun graced us with a final glorious setting on the Mekong. It was a fine farewell to Laos.

Day 228 - Monks and the Mekong

2008-01-28T06:10:00.000-08:00

We woke up early this morning to join our neighbor lady in giving alms to the monks. I know they are supposed to give up worldly desires, but surely they must get bored with oranges and sticky rice. In fact, this morning, one novice did close the lid of his begging bowl to prevent the orange from going in. I think I should have bought those strawberry lollies I saw at one of the convenience stores!

After the last of the monks passed by, we collected our bags, and set off for the ferry dock to begin day one of our 2-day foray up the Mekong to the Thai border. The weather was absolutly wretched - grey and rainy and cold. We were very happy to not only be bundled up in our fleeces, but also to burrow under our sleeping bag for most of the journey.

The rain did have the bonus of cloaking the surounding mountains with misty clouds, giving them a bit of atmospheric drama which they had been lacking. As stated before, after the Himalayas, mountains really have to work hard to impress us.

Even the few days of rain upriver, and now on-river caused the river to surge along in a chocolate-coloured sheet. Every now and then a whirlpool or eddy would catch the boat and give it a litttle shake, just to remind us that this is the Mighty Mekong, not some little backwater tributary.

We arrived in Pak Beng, about halfway between Luang Prabang and the Thai Border at dusk. The way up from the ferry dock involved scrambling up a steep rocky-muddy slope in the half dark. Cz was not pleased. We arrived at our guesthouse which had mercifully hot showers and clean bathrooms. After taking advantage of the oh-so-civilised facilties, we wadered back into town (which seemed a much shorter walk going downhill and pack-free) for some well-deserved curry and rice.

Tomorrow we look forward to more of the same. The rain was pretty, but I hope for, if not sun, at least warm.

Day 227 - Novice Monks...

2008-01-27T02:31:00.000-08:00

...Are still teenage boys.

Today we decided to do a walking tour of Luang Prabang. Our first stop was the Wat right behind our guesthouse (the one whose monks we give oranges to each morning). While it did have some lovely old buildings, the best part were the novice monks living there. They lolled about studying or chatting, or goofing around in most un monk-like ways. One little monk was eating some fruit and hurled the peel at his friend. The other little monk promtly put him in a headlock and started pummling his back. Soundly proving that little monks are still teenage boys.

After all that excitement we thought it best to visit the more staid entertainment of Luang Prabang's oldest Wat, Wat Wisunalat. The Wat was nice, but no more exciting than others we've seen, but the stupa on its grounds is commonly known as 'The Watermelon Stupa'. I suspect there may have been some opium involved in that naming - though is quite plump and round like a fat watermelon. Personally I think it looks more like a bosom, but could probably get in trouble for saying so.

We continued on our walk along the smaller river flanking the city. Sounds of laughter coming from the water made us pause. A group of monks in their saffron robes were taking turns with a group of local boys in floating (and dunking each other, and tossing each other off of) a tire inner tube. I've heard that the little monks also like to practice Kung-fu (also forbidden), but that the older monks pretend not to know about it.

We tried to go to the Royal Palace museum, but it was closed. The Wat on the grounds (yes, more Wat) was open, and as gilded as one would expect a royal Wat to be.

Across the street we climbed Pu Si Hill where Wat Chomsi which offers commanding views over the city and surrounding countryside. One building was being re-painted by team of novice monks. As expected from a teenage boy paint team, they were getting nearly as much paint on each other and their robes as on the walls of the building.

Cultural duty done, we got some tasty snacks from the local street vendors, bought oranges for tomorow's alms, and picked up a few more presents from the night market.

Day 226 - Cooking School

2008-01-26T07:32:00.000-08:00

Today was far more satisfying. We handed out oranges with the lovely old lady from next door. Armed with our plate of fruit, it was easy to send the hawkers away, and the monks seemed pleased with the tiny sweet oranges.

We returned to our guesthouse for a blissfully hot shower. Some thumping noises from the Wat across the alley drew our attention, and we managed to spot a young novice perched precariously on some shed roofs trying to swat down green coconuts with a long bamboo pole. The roof was far from solid, and the coconuts stubborn - we held our breath until he succeeded in knocking down three plump nuts.

By 10AM, I was at the front door of the three elephants cooking school eagerly awaiting the lessons that would unlock the secrets to Laos cooking. Luckily, only one other student had signed up for class today. The two of us teamed up with the two teachers for a six hour intensive. Our day started with trip to the market where all kinds of forest fruits and vegetables, wild mushrooms, tobacco, and the carcases of anything that swims, crawls, or flies could be bought. Our teachers patiently explained how to choose everything we would need for the class (they had actually pre-purchased for us earlier on in the day), and we returned to the cooking school. Back at the school, the other student and I had tea while the teachers set up the 'classroom'. for he rest of the day, the teachers would prepare a dish and explain it, then the other student and I would take our cookbooks and try to repeat what the teacher had done. We were remarkably successful, producing a perfectly edible lunch and dinner. By the time the class ended, we had made 5 dishes ourselves, and learned how to make 3 more by watching the teacher.

Most of the dishes are quite easy. Here's one for you to try.

Luang Prabang Salad.
This salad is particular to this city. Laos watercress is milder than western watercress, so you may want to substitute baby spinach for half the watercress amount

Ingredients
Two handfuls salad leaves (lettuce, spinach, or a salad mix - we used green leaf lettuce)
One big handful watercress (See note above)
1 medium tomato, sliced
1 medium cucumber, sliced
cilantro for garnish
1Tbs crushed peanuts
1Tbs Minced pork cooked and drained (optional)
1hard boiled egg, sliced
2hard boiled egg yolks
2 Tbs oil (any veg oil will do)
2Tbs white vinegar
1Tbs sugar
.5tsp. white pepper (black is OK)
.25tsp salt

Prepare the sauce
Put 2 egg yolks, oil, vinegar, salt, sugar, and pepper in a blender or food processor
Blend until smooth

Make the salad
Coarsely chop the watercress and greens
Add dressing to taste and mix
Place the salad in a bowl or plate in a mound
Place the cucumber around the base
Layer the tomato above it on the sides of the mound
Follow with the eggs
Put a tuft of cilantro in the open space at the top
Drizzle with a little more dressing
Sprinkle with the peanuts, pork, and cilantro

We ended the day with an evening walk down the oh-so-European main street. Well except for the palm tree silouetted in the setting sun.

Day 225 - North Versus South

2008-01-25T03:49:00.000-08:00

At one point, we had planned to visit only Northern Laos, as that is the part said to have the most beautiful mountains, nicest cities, and best infrastructure. Ironically, so far I have liked the south of Laos much more than the north. Granted, Vang Vieng was fun and I enjoyed our floating and spelunking, but it did feel rather like a wealthy young backpackers' playground, or a place for 'Trustafarians' (white Rastafarians with trust funds) to prove themselves. Vientiane was like any other capital city (what little we saw of it), and Luang Prabang, while lovely, could be any small French city, complete with portly grey-haired men and their plastic-surgeried wives. In short, the north feels like a picturesque tourist dump.

We began the day by waking up early-early to give alms to the monks. Each morning, the monks from the various monasteries walk through town collecting alms in their copper bowls. Because the the monks are not permitted to make or buy their own food, lay people line the route to drop offerings of sticky rice, fruit, biscuits, etc into the alms bowls. Our guest house is on the route, and guests are invited to participate. Unfortunately, because it is on the route, hawkers also line the road selling sticky rice, fruit, etc. at hugely inflated rates. Today we made the mistake of buying from the hawkers - we thought there might be something special about the foods they offer. We were wrong. Fruit from the market is just as appropriate and a fraction of the cost. Oh well, live and learn.

The incident did however serve to highlight one the major differences between the south and the more developed north. In the south, we hardly had to be on the lookout for scams at all. Up north, however, it seems everyone is trying to make something for nothing. It seems fairly consistent in developing countries that the more foreign visitors a place sees, the more money-focused and sly the people seem to become. It is understandable, given that even the most broke backpacker has more money than many of these people are liable to see in a lifetime, but it is hard feeling like a walking ATM.

After alms, we met up with N, a friend we met while trekking in Nepal. She is doing the SE Asia circuit in the opposite direction from us - starting north and working south, so it was great good luck that we were able to cross paths again. Much of the draw of northern Thailand and northern Laos are the mountains. We compared travel notes, and agreed that after Nepal, it takes some pretty damn fine mountains to impress us.

After breakfast, we split up to run some errands, and met again in the afternoon. Cz and I opted for the fully touristy trip to visit the local bear sanctuary and waterfalls, while Nikki decided to spend the afternoon with her roommate. The bear sanctuary provided a healthy home and rehabilitation to bears rescued from poachers. There is an active bear trade with China both for bile extraction (used in traditional medicines) and restaurants (bear paw soup is considered a delicacy). Because of poaching and habitat loss, the Asian black bear is now critically endangered. At the shelter, 12 bears snooze and play and live lives that would have otherwise have been robbed from them. The shelter is in the process of expanding to accommodate an additional 12 bears, and also to expand their rehabilitation and re-release programs.

Also on site is Phet, an Indochine tiger. She too was rescued from poachers when she was only four days old. Because she was raised and has spent her entire life with humans, she can never be released into the wild. Her enclosure, however is huge, and includes among the trees all sorts of tiger-size kitty toys.

A stream runs through both Phet and the bears' enclosure. Its source are the impressive Kuang Si waterfalls. A visiting group of monks provided some choice photo opportunities.

On our return from the park, we passed though a 'Hilltribe Village'. Perhaps once this had been a genuine village, but tourist traffic has reduced it to a mall of handicrafts where children barely able to speak call out, "Hello, Hello, You can buy from Mee-eee". I understand the need for the tribes to make money selling crafts. I suspect some well-intentioned European supplied the materials and the villagers the labour, but the method of selling, and the 'human zoo' feeling of the place was really depressing. I felt exploitive walking through and not purchasing anything, but if I had made a purchase, I would have felt worse for supporting such activity. It was a no win situation that put both of us in a dark mood.

So far Luang Prabang's saving grace has been the food. Once again dinner was lovely and cheap.

After our meal, we walked through the night market near our guesthouse. anything and everything was offered up for sale spread on blankets under bare bulbs and candles. It felt like a much more genuine way of selling crafts and goods. We purchased a few kilo of oranges in hopes of a better alms-giving experience tomorrow.

Day 224 - Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang

2008-01-24T04:20:00.000-08:00

We woke up earlier today than any other day in Laos. We were rewarded by the moon setting through the mist between 'our' karsts (it was very bright in real life - in the photo it's barely visible in between the smaller and larger dome shaped formations left of center).

By 9AM we were on the road again, heading for Luang Prabang. The road is mercifully paved, but it does switchback through mountains for almost the entire route. Because the curves side to side and the grades up and down, the less than 200Km trip takes nearly 6hours.

We were exhausted by the time we finally pulled into the minibus depot outside Luang Prabang. A part of Luang Prabang's status as a world heritage site forbids buses from entering the city. As a result, all buses stop about 4km outside of town, and weary travelers are forced to negotiate a tuk-tuk into the city proper.

That done, it is a simple matter to walk from guesthouse to guesthouse until one finds one with suitable rooms for a decent price. We (OK I) have decided to splash out a little for a western bed, hot shower, and blissfully solid walls. Even at those standards, a night at our guesthouse still costs less than a night at the movies in NYC.

After taking hot showers (our first in weeks), we headed out for dinner. We were looking for 'Dragon Girl' restaurant, listed in Lonely Planet in case N, a friend we met trekking, wanted to join us for dinner. After walking the length of the restaurants along the Mekong, we concluded that it must have gone out of business, and settled on an outdoor barbecue place with no name. As we grilled and cooked soup at our table, took in the location and the type of food, it slowly dawned on us that our 'no name' restaurant was in fact Dragon Grill. But of course everyone just referred to it as "Laos Barbecue restaurant". Oh wacky outdated Lonely Planet.

Thankfully our friend was not trying to find us, so we didn't doom her to a night of hungry wandering.

Day 223 - Spelunking...

2008-01-23T10:27:00.000-08:00

...It's fun to say - more fun to do. The limestone karsts (there's a scrabble word for you) around Vang Vieng are pockmarked with caves of all shapes and sizes. Most are within 6km of our guesthouse, so today we rented mountain bikes and went bumping along through the woods and across dry rice paddies in search or underground adventure.

None of the caves are developed in the way of Laurey Caverns with lights and walkways. At each one, you pay 10,000kip (about $1) for an entrance ticket, headlamp (if you do not have your own), and guide if there is any chance of your becoming lost.

The first cave we stopped at, Tiger Cave, we did need a guide for, if only to show us how to wriggle through the entrances top the caverns. This one is not for the large, claustrophobic, or acrophobic (fear of heights). The adventure begins by scrambling up a steep narrow trail to the cave mouth, which is framed by stalagmites and stalactites like tigers' teeth. Once in, one soon must squeeze through a small hole, cross a rickety bamboo bridge over a dark, bottomless chasm, and and climb a ladder to another narrow gap (I barely fit). Scariest was where we had to scale smooth limestone formations on the far end of the bamboo bridge. Read: climb rocks with no hand or footholds over a chasm with only a few bamboo rods between self and horrible splatty death. It was grand fun.

We followed Tiger Cave with another cave that promised a pool where one could swim. Bolstered by our success in Tiger Cave, we opted to do this one solo, with only our little reading headlamps for light. They worked a charm, but the ratio of light to great, dark cave was definitely in cave's favour.

Unfortunately, being dry season, the pool was all dried up, though it left behind a sea of lovely red mud. Naturally 'war painting' was inevitable, sending the Lao girls at the entrance into fits of giggles when we emerged back into daylight.

We pedaled furiously back across the paddies to return our bikes in time to shower and be ready for sunset. Everyday we have planned to catch the sunset from our back door, and every day have been elsewhere. Today we made it.

Before our caving adventure, we spent some time in town itself. Laos is the most heavily bombed country in the world. During the 'Secret War' roughly a half ton of bombs was dropped for every man, woman, and child living in Laos. Probably no propaganda for the Pathet Lao was more successful than the US bombing runs in its bid to 'make the world safe for democracy'. Many of the millions of tons of ammo remain undetonated and are a leading cause of injury and fatalities in some provinces. Even in peaceful Vang Vieng, the beginning and end of bridge are decorated with old bomb casings.

The bridge itself is a toll bridge. I imagine they turn quite a tidy profit in the rainy season when the river runs high. In the dry season however, naked children and broke backpackers can find it much more economical just to wade.

Day 222 - The Good and The Bad

2008-01-22T21:53:00.000-08:00

First The Bad. Or The Adventures of Drinky McBarfsalot. Or Why I Am SO OVER Bamboo Walls. This is not a tale for weak stomachs.

Some things you need to know.

1. Bamboo walls are not soundproof. Not even a little bit.

2. I. HATE. vomit. I do not like to sit in aisle seats on airplanes because I fear someone on their way to the toilet might throw up on me. Pregnant ladies make me nervous because of morning sickness. Ditto drunk people. I cover my eyes for vomit scenes in movies. And the list goes on...

So understand my horror when on our second night in Don Det we are awakened to the sound of a girl sobbing next door. Followed by...BLEAAARGH gurgle SPLAT and a man's voice saying sorry, sorry. It was all I could do to keep from responding "Well you should be!" Then more sobbing and frantic girl talking in Korean. Followed again by BLEAAAARG gurgle. gurgle. SPLAT. And more sobbing. Repeat ad nauseum (pun intended).

Drinky McBarfsalot as I have now christened our lovely neighbor was sharing his bungalow with two women. Between the guesthouse owner, the Turkish guy in the bungalow on their other side, and I, we deduced that he and girl 1 were probably an item. He got exceedingly drunk and made a pass at girl 2. Resulting in A: Girl 1 crying and B: Him projectile vomiting. Jackass.

This would be somewhat OK if the story ended there. But oh no, the saga continues. The very next night, I am awakened to a girl with an Aussie accent saying "Oh I feel so sick". Followed shortly thereafter by URP URP Bleagh Splash. URP cough splash flush. I can be a little more sympathetic as she tried to be quiet, and probably just had food poisoning, but still two nights in a row?!

The bus ride was mercifully vomit-free. BUT our very first night in Vang Vieng...It was like Drinky McBarfsalot revisited, minus the sobbing and the Korean. At least the next day his girlfriend apologised for him. Food poisoning apparently - he actually wound up in hospital. But not before causing me to vow to NEVER EVER rent a bamboo-walled bungalow again!

And now the good. And it's very good.

As mentioned before, tubing the Nam Song is the main activity in Vang Vieng. So this afternoon, we rented ourselves two tubes, hitched a a ride upstream, and flopped into the water. In rainy season it's a fast and furious float with even a few rapids. In dry season (now), the river meanders along just strong enough to make paddling redundant.

All along the way, entrepreneurial Laos have set up open-air bars and rope swings into the river. The water didn't seem deep enough for the rope swings to feel really safe, so we opted out of those. Most of the bars seemed to cater to a much younger clientele, where everyone's bits seemed to not yet have heard of gravity, and to wear anything more than a string bikini positively prudish. So we drifted on. After the first glut of 19-year olds doing mating dances, the bars mellowed out considerably, often being just a collections of bamboo platforms built into the river with a sign offering up Beer Laos. We stopped at one of these, and watched bemused as the Beer Laos gondola poled its frothy load to our side.

After drinking our lukewarm beer and baking like lizards for a while, we flopped back into our tubes to continue floating our way into town. By the time we drifted back to the tube rental place, the sun was going down, and we agreed it had been an afternoon well spent.

Every night the moon has been getting fatter and fatter. All over town today, we have been seeing signs advertising a full moon party at one of the riverside bars. Having never been to a full-moon party, and having heard tales, we decided to take the plunge. As we walked towards the sounds of revelry, the moon did its best to prove its fullness.

Once at the party, we bought the drink of choice a 'long island bucket'. As the name implies, it is a little beach bucket filled with long island ice tea. As we sipped our 'tea', we watched the rest of the crowd dancing and drinking. It all seemed a little pathetic. I would guess the average age of the crowd to be about 19, and they all seemed to be trying to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible and to prove that they were having a good time - which very few of them actually seemed to be doing.

That said, the fire pits and lights were nice, but as soon as we finished our drink, I was ready to leave. BUT, as we got up to go, the DJ finally put on some Bon Jovi, Bryan Adams, Queen, ACDC, and even some Beatles. We found a little pocket of people that might have been closer to our own age who actually seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves. The final half hour of the party was a total blast.

And we left before anyone started throwing up.

Day 221 - Professional Nomads

2008-01-21T21:41:00.000-08:00

Our Queen of the buses arrived in Vientiane at about 6:30 this morning. We quickly caught a jumbo (jumbo-size tuk-tuk - like a three-wheel bus) into the town center and began our quest for a room. Because we decided to leave for Vientiane a day early, we had not booked anything. We figured that being the capitol city there would be plenty of options. We were wrong.

All of the decent places were either fully booked or weren't sure if the people who said they would be checking out (and thereby freeing up rooms) would in fact be checking out. In my quest for a guesthouse, I found one with with twice-daily service to Vang Vieng, the next stop on our itinerary. Seeing as the only thing we really wanted to do in Vientiane was see the Beer Lao factory, and seeing that Vientiane suffers from 'Capital City Syndrome' (everything costs more than elsewhere in the country), we decided to go ahead and catch the 10AM minibus to Vang Vieng rather than waiting around for a room that may or may not appear.

This proved to be a wise decision. We arrived in Vang Vieng at about 3:30, and by 4:30 had found a guesthouse for a paltry $4 a night. And four dollars a night in Vang Vieng buys this view (actually taken from the rear door of our room).

While wandering about Vang Vieng before finding our guesthouse, I met a girl traveling alone who wanted a tubing buddy (tubing the Nam Song is one the prime Vang Vieng activities). Within minutes of checking into our bungalow, we met up again and walked to the tubing place. Unfortunately it was already closed for the day, but a friend of hers was sitting in the outdoor cafe next door. We joined them, planning on just having a few fruit shakes. An hour and half, sandwich, and noodles later, we decided to meet up again in a few hours for dinner.

In case you hadn't gathered already, eating is a big deal in SE Asia - very cheap, and very good. Vang Vieng is not generally known for its cuisine, but there is an organic farm near town that supports a local school through its two cafes. we opted to do our part for the community by eating large plates of stir-fried veggies and fish and by drinking local fair-trade sugar palm beer. By the time we finished stuffing ourselves, it was past 10PM, and apparently most of Vang Vieng's bedtime. Failing to find and open coffeeshop, we settled for a another round of fruit shakes - I could easily get addicted to fresh lemon-mint smoothies - and then to bed.

Day 220 - Queen of Laos

2008-01-20T21:25:00.000-08:00

We ate breakfast this morning with the owner of our guesthouse. As we chatted, the subject of monkeys came up, and it turns out the family running the place has a monkey as well. This particular monkey has been around for 4 or 5 years, and has developed quite a reputation a s a misogynistic little monkey. When we went to visit him, he immediately hopped on the guesthouse owner's shoulder and began 'grooming' his hair, looking up periodically to give me the evil eye.

To prove the monkey's fearsome reputation, the guesthouse owner had me grab his wrist. Immediately the monkey puffed up his fur, bared his teeth, and began hooting. I was very grateful for the sturdy tether keeping his teeth and claws at bay. A few soft words from the owner and a plump banana were all it took to calm him down. That and me feigning complete disinterest in either the monkey or Cz, the Turkish fellow also with us, or the owner of the guesthouse.

The monkey had so entertained us that we nearly missed our boat to the mainland to catch the bus to Pakse. When we arrived at the 'bus stop', really a storefront with a garage, our 'bus' turned out to be a Toyota van that had seen better days. Feeling a little dubious we clambered aboard. It coughed and spluttered its way into Pakse where we were deposited at the bus terminal at 1:30. Our bus to Vientiane wasn't scheduled to leave until 8:00PM. We wandered around for bit, totally disenchanted with the town. We read and played cards for a while, but mostly sulked. Finally, we broke down and hailed a tuk-tuk to take us to Delta Coffee, supposedly the source for some of the best coffee in the country. Not only do they roast the beans in house, but they actually grow their own coffee on a nearby plantation. Contrary to the rest of the town, it did not disappoint. To be fair, where we had wandered were the fringes - I'm sure the town center is far more pleasant.

By the time we finished our coffee and early supper, we had just enough time to walk back to the bus depot and use the bathroom before meeting our VIP night bus to Vientiane.

She was the drag queen of buses. Perfectly airbrushed, she towered over the more humble vehicles, batting pink-curtained eyelashes at anyone who cared to look in her windows. On the lower levels, the extra VIP passengers got whole beds. Us lesser mortals had to content ourselves with reclining seats, but even those had blankets and little doilies on the headrests.

Shortly into the journey a man came down the aisle bearing bottles of water and warm dinners - which even had a dainty cilantro garnish across the top. We were most impressed. We were less impressed with the not one, but two karaoke televisions blaring Lao pop which seem to be the staple of Laos buses. Mercifully, the TV's were turned off from about 10:00PM to about 5AM.

And there wasn't a single chicken, goat, or person sitting in the aisle on a plastic stool in sight (the other staples of SE Asian buses).

Day 219 - Monkey Business

2008-01-19T03:36:00.000-08:00

I spent the morning playing dice and cards on the restaurant terrace with our guesthouse owner. Cz spent his morning trying to mend his hiking boots and lounging in his hammock. This is fairly typical for a morning on Don Det. By the time we finally managed to pry ourselves away, it was nearly 2PM, and we were hungry. We wandered into town in search of a good lunch. An open-air restaurant beckoned with low tables and cushioned seating . As we sipped our drinks and waited for our meal, a small animal darted across the opposite row of tables. I was about to comment to Cz on what a strange mew the 'kitten' had when the 'kitten' made a flying leap into a startled Cz's arms. The opposable thumbs and prehensile tail explained why it sounded most un-kittenlike.

After getting some scratchies from Cz, the 'kitten' hopped onto our table, pulled the straw out of my drink, and proceeded to slurp up most of my lemon shake. Common in the islands are 'happy shakes', fruit smoothies spiked with ganja. Luckily mine was not of the happy variety, or that would have been one stoned little monkey.

He managed to evade capture for a few more minutes before his owner was able to bribe him home with a handful of fruit.

Deciding that the monkey was enough excitement for one day, Cz retreated to his hammock. I rented a bicycle and spent the afternoon pedaling the length of our island, and then across the defunct French railroad bridge onto Don Khon, the next island over. Don Khon is even more laid-back than Don Det, where water buffalo and chickens outnumber people. Towards the southern end of Don Khon, the Mekong drops almost 100m over the span of about 3 football fields. The falls themselves are fairly impressive, but more impressive are the flimsy bamboo bridges built out into the raging water. During low water, brave Lao fishermen balance on these bridges to set fish traps in the rushing water. On the far side of the falls, the river has cut a deep chasm in the surrounding rock, making an impressive funnel of roaring blue-green water between nearly vertical black limestone walls.

Further down the island, the scrubby forest opens out onto a huge white sand beach. Understandably, the beach is popular with locals and foreigners alike for volleyball, hackeysack, badminton, and other games. The rocks off the beach also make a natural green lagoon, perfect for an afternoon paddle. Had we not already seen river dolphins in Kratie, boats also run from this beach to another pocket of them further up the Mekong.

Not wanting to get caught in the dark with my bicycle, I only spent a little while playing at the beach before turning homeward. The pedal back was entirely peaceful, with hardly another person in sight, and my tires making almost no sound on the soft sand roads.

Day 218 - Life in the Slow Lane

2008-01-18T03:36:00.001-08:00

We lazed about in bed until the sunlight streaming into our little hut made sleep impossible - which was about 8AM. We rolled out of bed and took our time washing up and getting dressed before meandering over to the riverfront cafe affiliated with our bungalows. We both ordered mint tea, which turned out to be actual mint leaves steeped in boiling water. Very light and refreshing, and very attractive against the green and blue morning on the Mekong.

After breakfast, I set to work scrubbing at least some of the red dust out of our clothes. This took a good bit of time, but was made pleasant by the breeze off the river and the view of fishermen from our porch.

Laundry finished, we strolled to a neighboring guest house for a lunch of Laab (also spelled Larp or Larb), the national dish of Lao. Laab consists of meat (fish, chicken, beef or pork) minced together with herbs, lime and chilis, and served with lettuce and rice.

After lunch, we decided to have a walk around the island. The pace here is so relaxed that even the bakery mouser has time for a catnap.

Our walk was in no way strenuous, but we decided it best to spend the rest of the afternoon making sure our hammocks were in good working order. Don Det might make for slow living, but we are tearing through our books.

We finished out the evening with another fine river sunset.

Life is good in the slow lane.

Day 217 - End of the Road

2008-01-17T03:25:00.000-08:00

We began the day with an 8AM minivan to Stung Treng. Or, at least the van picked us up from our guesthouse at 8AM. We didn't actually get on the road until nearly 9. The road to Stung Treng was almost all paved, and we were there by 10:30. We expected to go all the way to the Laos border, so were rather perplexed when we were told to get off the bus and wait for the boat, which wasn't to arrive until 1:30.

We joined a group of similarly perplexed backpackers , played a few hands of cards, read, and ordered lunch. Cz's order got forgotten, and of course arrived just as someone showed up to herd us into the ferry. Luckily he was able to have it boxed, and soon we and the other backpackers were chugging across the river. When we arrived on the other side, we were showed to an awning and told to wait. Again.

In a few minutes a pair of minivans arrived to take us to the border. But the drivers of said vans were not OUR drivers. So we waited some more. By this time we had spent maybe 2 hours in transit, and about 5 hours in waiting.

Finally we were on our way. The border was very clearly demarked by the abrupt end of the paved road. At the Cambodian side, officials tried to finagle a dollar each for 'processing fees'. We managed to outwit them and passed through without paying the 'fee'. Once on the Laos side, the guards demanded a dollar each 'stamping fee'. They were less willing to negotiate, and we each dutifully shelled out the cash. We have found that in many border posts, bribery is almost a way of life. The officials are paid a meagre salary, and it is almost accepted that it is to be supplemented by whatever they can get from travellers passing through. The worst is on most of the border points between Thailand and Cambodia. Technically a visa should be available at point of entry for $20. In reality, most people (us included) wind up paying 1200 Thai Baht (close to $40). Technically it's legal, the fee is either 20US or 1200Bhat, but the current exchange rates make it much better to pay in dollars. The border officials line their pockets by insisting that the fee be paid in bhat. If one has no bhat, he or she gets doubley scammed, as the officials insist on changing the money at ridiculous rates.

Once through the border, the roads deteriorated rapidly to pitted, sandy track. We were relieved to finally arrive at Nagasak, the ferry point out to Don Det, one of the southernmost of the Si Pan don, or 4000 islands.

The guidebook says that the further south one goes in Laos, the more chilled out it becomes. Of Si Phan Don it states "The islands are so chilled out, you are likely to become a hammock-bound icicle." This seems to be the case. When our little boat pulled up to Don Det's sandy beach, our welcoming committee consisted not of touts, but of a placid buffalo.

We walked the track across the island (all 200 meters of it) to find a place to stay. The sides of the island are lined with little bamboo bungalows offering views of either sunrise or sunset. The two main 'roads' (sandy footpaths) are appropriately named 'Sunrise way' and 'Sunset Strip'. Within 20 minutes, cold drink in hand, we were hammock bound on the porch of our very own little hut, watching the sunset over the Mekong and a few of the 4000 neighboring islets.

As the last rays faded away, we wandered next door where the smell of cooking, and the promise of meeting up with a few other backpackers we had met on the way over, coaxed us to dinner. The island was nearly silent, and our restaurant lit entirely by candles. The island gets electricity from 6-10PM, but as of yet not all buildings are wired. It is remarkably peaceful. Indeed we may become 'hammock bound icicles in short order.

Day 216 - The Wedding Crashers

2008-01-16T02:37:00.000-08:00

Today we hired two drivers with their trusty Honda Heroes for a tour of the countryside around Kratie.

We began at a reconstructed temple, originally from the 16th century. The blue lights above are not fluorescent tubes, but the brilliant sky shining through slats in the wood. The temple now houses a handicrafts shop to raise money for local villagers. I came away with a pair of super-comfy braided grass flip flops. $2 well spent I think, seeing as my old sandals died in the Philippines.

From there we bumped along the dirt track to a bluff overlooking a Vietnemese fishing village floating on the Mekong. I do like the giant cantilevered fishing nets, but my favourite part of the floating villages are the little garden plots on nearly every boat. Each raft has at least one old oil drum, defunct canoe, or row of buckets brimful with herbs and vegetables.

After catching the little ferry to the island mid river, we motored up to another little bluff where there is a beach popular with the bovine crowd. The name "Kratie" actually comes from an old word in the local dialect meaning "place of the buffalo", as this is where the Mekong was tame enough, and interspersed with enough rest islands to swim herd of cattle and water buffalo across. Today it is popular with the working buffalo for a good wallow after a hard day of plowing. And in case you were wondering how cows stay so nice and white in a red-dust country, here you go.

Many people on the island make their living from processing sugar palm sap into sugar. Much like maple syrup, the sap is boiled and boiled in witch's cauldrons until it reduces to a blonde, caramel-tasting sugar. What sap is not used to make sugar is either drunk fresh, or fermented into palm wine. We were plied with several glasses of the fresh juice, which was surprisingly sweet and almost lemony tasting.

While at the sap-boiling vats, we heard some music in the distance. Our guides said it was a wedding, and asked if we would like to stop by and see a traditional Cambodian village wedding. Of course we did, and soon found ourselves not only invited, but pulled quite forcefully into the seats of honour right in front of where the ceremony would take place. All the older ladies fussed and clucked over us, bringing bottles of water and sticky rice with sugar palm fruit wrapped in banana leaves. I felt a little guilty about pulling focus away from the bride, but Cambodian weddings are far less formal and far more boisterous than our western affairs, with children running about, people chatting among themselves, and, as we discovered, an open invitation to anyone lucky enough to pass by.

After the wedding, we went to visit the family home of one of our guides. His mother owns a fruit orchard and gardens with peanuts, coconuts, grapefruit, and guava. Wielding a scythe on a long bamboo rod, our guide cut down a fresh coconut for each of us. The neighborhood chicks heard the coconuts falling and came running over to investigate. Cz created a veritable feeding frenzy when he set his half-finished coconut on the ground.

Our final stop was a Wat at which a monk had turned into a crocodile and eventually ate a local princess. There is a long and involved story leading up to the transformation involving many spells and plot twists, culminating in this monument and several temples being built along the river.

Had we more time and money, our guides were ready to take us down to see the other temples, but decided to return to Kratie by way of the next set of ferries. We arrived back at our guesthouse tired, covered in red dust, and very pleased.

No candles, but certainly a good way to spend a birthday.

This is your BIRTHDAY song...

2008-01-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

...it isn't very LONG!

Happy Birthday Jess!!!

-cz-

Day 215 - In Cambodia...

2008-01-15T02:01:00.000-08:00

...Tarantulas are not pets. They are a tasty snack fried up with soy sauce and garlic. The bus ride from Phnom Penh to Kratie was eventful only in the snack foods sold at each rest stop. Stop one had the widest selection offering tarantulas, crickets, grasshoppers, silkworm grubs, even what looked like shiny black roaches. I sampled the spiders - surprisingly tasty. They tasted like (and had a texture remarkably similar to) fried softshell crab legs.

...Honda Hero motorbikes are the main set of wheels. Them and Toyota Camrys with souped up suspensions to handle the largely unpaved roads. The little motorbikes zip around on every road serving as family car, cargo truck, and taxi all rolled into one.

...The river has dolphins in it. The Mekong is one of the last remaining places where Irrawaddy river dolphins survive in the wild. They went extinct in China in 2006 or 7. There are only about 75-100 left in the Mekong, and about half of those live around Kratie. We took a boat out to see them, and actually got quite close. Unfortunately for the pictures, they are quite fast, usually disappearing with a splash right about the time the camera clicks. That grey 'log' in the left part of the frame is actually a 6' dolphin peering at the boat.

...Children think swatting each other with flowers is a fine game.

...Red sunsets spill across the Mekong as fishing boats and ferries slowly chug towards home.

News Flash

2008-01-14T01:13:00.000-08:00

We will be leaving tomorrow for Kratie, and from there continuing up the Mekong into Laos. Once we leave Phnom Penh, it will be unlikely that we will have internet until we reach Vientiane in northrn Laos. We expect that because we are runing upriver and stopping along the way it will take us up to 5-6 days to get there. So don't worry if you don't hear from us for a while.

Day 214 - Monuments and Museums

2008-01-14T00:44:00.000-08:00

Today we decided to experience the brighter side of Phnom Penh. We started the day at the symbol of the city, Wat Phnom. Legend has it that a lady named Penh found 4 Buddhas washed up on the banks of the Mekong, and housed them on a hill near where she found them. The town the grew up around that hill became Phnom Penh - literally, The Hill of Penh.

Today, a simple Wat and a few stupas adorn the 27m high hill. One stupa also seemed to be home to a friendly butterfly that fluttered around and around the point, landing occasionaly nearby, and once even on my shoulder. The wat itself is very popular with students who come to pray for good grades on their exams. If they do get good marks, they return to make offerings of banannas and flowers. The offerings are much appreciated by the troupe of plump monkeys that gambol around the hill.

The hill is also home to many entrepeneurial vendors selling everything from incence for the Buddha to pickled mangos, to small birds. One purchases a bird to free it from its cage, but word has it that the birds are trained to return to the cages after liberation. Also abundant on the hill are the naked children of the vendors. They squeal, run about, and spray each other with the hoses intended to water the trees and grass of the monuments. Very cute.

From Wat Phnom, we opted to walk down the waterfront to the Royal Palace and National Museum. The riverfront is a bustling center with upmarket hotels, retaurants, and vestiges of French colonial architecture.

Wat Ounalum is tucked discreetly between the shopping area and the National Museum/Royal Palace complex. During the Khmer Rouge all of its Buddhas were therown in the Mekong or smashed. In the eighties, they were hauled out and restored - go Buddha! Anyway, when we arrived, the place was locked, and we feared that we had stumbled into a private area. Soon though, an old man came around the corner with a ring of keys and unlocked the door. The main Buddha supposedly contains an eyelash of Bhudda himself. We lit incense before that statue, and were blessed with jasmine-infused holy water.

When we arrived at The Royal Palce, it too was locked up tight. Turns out the guards lock up from 11-2 for lunch and siesta. While we decided what to do while we waited, a girl selling water came over to chat with us. She made a very persuasive argument, and we promised to buy a bottle when we returned.

The National Museum is a beautiful building with French Indochine architecture. It houses several sculptures and artifacts from Pre-Angkor Cambodia on. Best of all were the 'room o' Buddhas' and the fishponds in the courtyard. True to form, we were more excited about feeding the fish than about the exhibits.

We finished the museum at almost exactly two, and wandered back over to the now-open palace. Stuck off the end of one building in the courtyard was an incongruous, lacy white building, The Pavilion of Napoleon III. Oh, those wacky French.

The complex's claim to fame is the Silver Pagoda, which is not actually silver at all. It is so named because of its floor of several thousand silver tiles, each weighing over 1kilo. The Khmer Rouge claimed to leave the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda intact to show their respect for Cambodia's history and culture. That said, much was still stolen or lost during their regime.

When we left the palce grounds, it was late afternoon, and consequently much cooler with nice, slanting light. We walked slowly home on the mercifully logical, gridded streets. Never again will I take for granted logical city planning!

Tommorrow morning, we depart for Kratie, then wilds of Laos. As stated in the update, don't worry if you don't here from us for a while. Computers are thin on the ground up there from what I hear.

Day 213 - No Place for Old Men

2008-01-13T21:35:00.000-08:00

There are few old ladies in Phnom Penh. There are even fewer old men. It is a viceral reminder of the genocide of less than 30 years ago.

This morning we visited Choeng Ek Genocidal Center, better known as The Killing Fields. This the place where more than 10,000 Khmer men, women, and children were executed and thrown into mass graves. Strangely, and like S-21, the area is very peaceful. Grass and flowers have grown over the pits of the excavated graves, and butterflies swarm over the place.

There are more that 300 known 'killing fields' in Cambodia, Choeng Ek is just the most famous because its victims are the best documented, having been the elite of the capital city. Surely there are even more sites that have not been uncovered, let alone documented.

In order to save bullets, victims were usually bludgeoned with bamboo rods, hoes, or other farm implements. Others had their throats cut by machete or were suffocated with plastic bags. Frequently they were merely unconscious when whey were thrown into the pits, and were buried alive. Because the families were told that the people being taken away were being taken for 'reeducation', they did not know that they were being taken for execution until they still hadn't returned many years later. Many burial and execution sites were left undiscovered because they were frequently in remote wooded areas. Choeng Ek was in a forest that had once been a Chinese cemetery. It was only discovered in 1980 because the smell from the shallowly and improperly buried bodies became to strong to ignore.

At least 10,000 bodies were uncovered. In 1988 a memorial was built in their honour. Every time it rains, more clothing and bones rise to the surface. These bones and garments are gathered and attempts are made to give them a respectful resting place, but often they wind up simply piled at the bases of trees. As we walked between rhe excavated pits, bits of clothing scattered the path, and smooth bones showed under a fine layer of dust. Even treading carefully, it was impossible not to avoid stepping on them entirely. Perhaps most disturbing was single human tooth lying in the middle of one of the paths like just another pebble.

When Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge swept through Phnom Penh, it obliterated the educated classes. Besides the immediate impact, it slammed the brakes on Cambodia's development. As of 1980, there were no universities in Cambodia, and only 20 high schools for the entire population. Well into the 80's people were afraid to get an education, because the memories of what had happened to the other educated people were still too fresh. Even had they wished to study, there were no professors with which to staff the universities. To this day, the majority of Cambodians over the age of 25 only have an 8th grade or lower education.

Eventually, professors from France, many of them Cambodians who had been living in in Europe, returned to their home country to rebuild the education system. Today, young Cambodians go to school, frequently through college. Nearly all begin studying English between ages five and seven, as their parents believe it the path to a brighter future. The government encourages students with scholarships to study in Australia, France, and even occasionally the USA.

The country is on the upswing, but there are still major hurdles to its development. Corruption is rife within the government, with personal gain often winning out over public good in the allocation of funds. NGO's are a big business in Cambodia. Certainly they are doing some good in the country, and arguably the country would be much worse off without their support, but the upper level employees enjoy a standard of living higher even than that of most Americans. In a country where the US dollar is worth 4000 of the local currency, it is not hard to imaging how much better off the place would be should those dollars be directed into development programs, rather than bankrolling a five-star lifestyle. Tourism, perhaps the biggest potential source of income for Cambodia - none of her neighbors can boasts ruins of more renown than the temples of Angkor - could be a lifeblood for the country. Unfortunately, most of the national treasures are privately owned, and the bulk of their revenue goes to line the pockets of the corporations and individuals who control them.

It is hard to believe such recent and ongoing political turmoil in such a friendly and apparently peaceful country. The area around Choeng Ek is surrounded by new houses, and lush floodplains where homes on stilts perch to avoid the annual floods. Children wave from doorways, and everyone who speaks English is excited to try conversation with a foreigner.

Perhaps nowhere is the entrepreneurial spirit more evident than at The Russian Market, so called because it is where the Russians went shopping the late 80's. Today it half tourist souvenir junk store, and half working marketplace selling everything from tires to fruits. In between the 'junk stores' and the working market, food and drink vendors dish up meals for pennies. We feasted on noodles and spring rolls, and for 75 cents, left the market with a big bag of Rambutan, one of my favourite fruits that usually cost about $6 per pound at home.

On the way back to our guesthouse, we stopped at an internet cafe to catch up on the blog and e-mails. The larger Cambodian cities are remarkably well 'wired' with far faster and more reliable connections than even India, the supposed IT capitol of the world. This connectivity is a relatively new development. In the 1990's, there were few internet cafes, and these charged up to $10 and hour. Today, there seems to be an internet connection every other block, and cost less than 50 cents and hour.

Back at the the guesthouse, we took a little break to cool off before hiring a tuk-tuk out to the National Museum for sunset. According to my guidebook, the roof of the museum is home to the largest population of bats in a man made structure in the world. We had hoped to witness the spectacle of thousands of bats streaming out of the elegant building. Unfortunately, between the time of my book's publication and our arrival in Cambodia, the director of the museum had put anti-bat measures in place, and the eaves were woefully bat-free. I hope they found a nice new home.

Thwarted, we returned to the guest house where the receptionist was giving an impromptu magic show. She even tried to teach us how to do a few of the simpler tricks...all but one of which proved beyond my capability. Among the audience was an American girl on vacation from teaching English in China. She and two of her friends, also teacher in China, were planning to have dinner at Friends, a training restaurant that both raises money for causes around the city and trains Cambodian street kids in the restaurant and hotel industry. Cz and I had wanted to dine there too during our stay in Cambodia, so we joined up and made a jolly night of it. It sort of blew our food budget for the day (we have gotten very spoiled on 1.50 street eats), but we figured why not splash out a little on a good meal for a good cause.

Day 212 - Reeducation

2008-01-12T21:23:00.000-08:00

We opted for overland to get from Battambang to Phnom Penh, as the water route would mean backtracking to Siem Reap, then taking the express boat across Tonle Sap Lake. In the wet season the express boat is merely uncomfortable. In the dry season, smaller boats make the run, but the same number of tickets are sold as for the larger boats, resulting, predictably, in boats overcrowded to the point of capsize.

The first two thirds of the bus ride were uneventful. The road was paved (a new development in Cambodian overland travel), and the bus reasonably air-conditioned. Unfortunately, about 4 hours into the 6 hour run, the air con froze up. A little cool air still trickled from the vents, but nearly enough to counter the full load of warm bodies crammed inside. The last two hours were pretty sweaty, and not enhanced by the carsick toddler in the row behind us. Luckily he had only eaten banana and rice, so it didn't smell much or go anywhere but on himself and his poor mom's lap.

We expected our arrival in Phnom Penh to feel much like our arrival in Delhi - hot, crowded, hassly, and full of touts. There were some fairly aggressive tuk-tuk drivers, but we were able to negotiate a fair deal to our guest house fairly easily. The guest house proved better than expected, with our own immaculate bathroom, towels, and even air conditioning. I did some laundry, and we basked for a while in our cool cocoon before deciding to walk to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum.

The museum is housed in S-21, or Security Office 21 of the Khmer Rouge. In a previous life, it had been a high school. When the Khmer Rouge captured Phnom Penh, they divided the classrooms into cells and interrogation rooms. Even the playground exercise equipment was converted for use as torture devices. The frame of the swing set still stands, which in Khmer Rouge times was a place where prisoners would be hoisted up by their wrists and abused until they lost consciousness. Of the approximately 14,000 people imprisoned there from 1975-1979, only 7 survived. Most of the high-ranking officials have evaded trial and justice in a political and legal morass. More horrifying still are the hundreds of children trained as guards and torturers. Most Cambodians agree not to prosecute these children, believing that had they not become child soldiers, they too would have died, and that have punished themselves enough in their own minds.

Today, S-21 is a strangely peaceful place. When arrived at 4PM, the late afternoon sun slanted through windows and across the courtyard giving the yellow walls a warm glow. Birds twittered in the flowerings trees of the courtyard, and two Khmer children chased each other on bicycles, shrieking and laughing, incongruous sounds to come in through the window of room still containing the iron bed and shackles of its last, doomed inhabitant.

The first building is a stark reminder of the atrocities carried out here. Each classroom contains the bed and shackles of its last resident. A single, mercifully grainy, black and white photo in each room shows that bed and room as they were found, with the broken body of the prisoner still chained in place.

The first floor of the next building contains hundreds of mug shots of victims as they were brought into S21. Entire families were brought in for 'reeducation', from infants to grandparents. In no photo is anyone crying, not even the babies. Everyone stares at the camera with faces registering shock, fear, defiance, confusion -a whole range of emotion, but all contained. Perhaps most striking are the old men and ladies who face the camera with chins up, eyes straight ahead. They perhaps know best what is to come, but somehow manage to preserver their dignity. In another photo, a little boy of about ten pulls away from a guard just visible to the side, cocks his hip, and smirks at the camera with all his youthful bravado. In yet another picture a young woman stares straight ahead with sad eyes, her arms wrapped gently around the new baby sleeping in her lap. Near her picture, a toddler purses her lips and peers coyly out of the frame, looking for all the world like PI (Cz's niece in the Philippines) posing for a family photo. Further down the line, a college-age girl poses in a souvenir t-shirt from Miami Beach, Florida. It is impossible to remember every face, no matter how hard one tries, but as a group, they represent the brightest of Phnom Penh, and the hope for a solid future snuffed out. Individually, they are the mothers, sisters, brothers, fathers, husbands, whole families whose stories will never be known because the Khmer Rouge saw to it that there no one was left to bear witness.

The final group of buildings remain divided into cells. The cells are about 3 feet wide by seven feet long, built with red bricks in former classrooms. The lucky inmates had most a of a window in their cells. The less fortunate received only the barest sliver of daylight. Everyone was chained at the ankle and regularly tortured. Even now, the rooms are dark and musty, and smell faintly of dust and rot.

Other floors of each section contain exhibits dedicated to the memories of those who were interrogated at S21 before being executed at the killing fields. The exhibits range from amateur paintings showing prison life to photos and stories from surviving family members, to shelves of skulls and torture devices.

It is a sobering place, made more so because it is not softened by many years of history. The events of S-21 happened within most of our lifetimes. The Khmer Rouge only fell in 1979. Cambodia was only fully opened to Western visitors in 1996. To this day, there is debate over the extent of the atrocities committed under Pol Pot, and over whether the perpetrators will be or should brought to justice nearly 30 years too late. The US does not have clean hands in the matter. Our involvement in Vietnam, and later carpet bombing and invasion of eastern Cambodia caused hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths directly, and hundreds of thousands more to turn to the Khmer Rouge, who would later execute them. Among the many facts which remain hazy are exact numbers of people killed. The most recent study indicates it is probably 2, but perhaps as much as 3 million. In a small country of 14 million, that potentially represents nearly quarter of the population.

I am amazed that the events here do not get more press. In school, we all read The Diary of Anne Frank and learn about the Nazi's, but of SE Asia, most of us only learn about Vietnam with a glancing look at Pol Pot. No one seems to want to hear the stories of families fleeing into Thailand across mine-infested forests, or of children forced to work as executioners. Perhaps we hear less about them because in this case we were not the liberating heroes, as we were in Europe. Perhaps, even more cynically, we do not hear about it because the victims were not white people in a place where Westerners regularly visit. Perhaps it is a case of history already repeating itself in Africa and the Middle East. We failed the first time we got involved, and we are continuing to fail around the world. Rather than face the embarrassment, perhaps the West is preferring to simply sweep events under the rug. I know too little of world politics to offer anything more than observation. I have nothing to offer in the way of opinion of what we could or should do beyond that observation. Perhaps it is enough to bear witness, to tell stories. It is impossible for any one person or country to save the world, and arrogant to try. It is, however, I think the responsibility of each individual to try to make it a little better. And by doing that, perhaps it can be saved.

Day 211 - River Rats

2008-01-11T03:30:00.000-08:00

Today we began our great Cambodian over water excursion with a side trip to Battambang. Battambang itself, despite being Cambodia's second-largest city, is sort of a pointless dusty town, but the boat ride there is reputed to be one of the prettiest in the country. Though the boat was about as comfortable (and nearly as crowded) as an Indian bus, it was still a day well spent.

The boat departs from the floating village adjacent to Siem Reap. From there it zips across a small section of Tonle Sap Lake, really more of an inland sea. Even going across a tiny portion of it, we were out of sight of land in short order.

The rest of the trip is taken on the Tonle Sap (I think) river, which varies in width from quite wide to scarcely more than the boat. The first section of the river goes through a national bird sanctuary where we saw storks or cranes, egrets, herons, and parrot green kingfishers among others. In addition to all the wild birds along the banks, we had a very special passenger on our boat. A local man flagged us down, then climbed aboard with his fighting rooster. I don't know how good of a fighter he could be though - he was extremely friendly and curious about the boat. He spent most of the trip hanging around the cabin entrance begging for - and getting - bits of baguette from the captain, and pats from the nearest passengers.

Frequently the boat motored past floating villages. These are entire communities floating in the river. Everything from church to school to pigsty gets its own pontoon float. The markets are mobile affairs of ladies in heavily laden boats paddling from float to float. Everyone has at least a few boats - a motorized fishing boat, a barge of some sort, and little wooden boats for getting around the neighborhood.

Sometimes the floating villages lived in tandem with houses built on stilts. Other times, there were whole communities made up of stilt houses. A few of the stilt homes sat on sturdy bamboo legs. Most, however, perched precariously on little more than crooked twigs, giving them the appearance of ungainly spiders stumbling drunkenly into the river.

Everywhere was evidence of the flood cycle that governs river life. From the homes built to rise with the water or to stand above it, to rubbishy 12 feet up in the trees, to rater lines worn into the banks. Also evident was the incredible poverty of the region. Children often ran about naked. Those with clothes, child and adult alike, often wore ill-fitting, torn, and stained garments. Amazingly, everyone was incredibly friendly, despite their desperate straits. The Khmer ladies that joined our boat really wanted to talk with us, despite having no English, and fretted over a Brit girl who was feeling ill. All the children smiled and waved from the banks, and showed off doing flips and dives in the water. I may have said this before, but it bears repeating. It seems that the countries we have visited that have the least stable political climate/history produce the friendliest, most optimistic, and helpful people. Perhaps it is because the main troubles are with the government, and the majority of the people wish to distance themselves from that. Perhaps it is because they have witnessed the worst that humans can do to one another, and wish to disprove that history. Whatever the reason, the Cambodians (and earlier in the trip the Nepali) have been among the most generous and charming people we have met anywhere in the world. It really helps to be surrounded by such lovely people in a sometimes challenging place.

We did not arrive in Battambang until nearly 5PM. By then we were too tired to do any sightseeing - OK, as there is not that much to see here. We did however find the choicest street stalls in town and had a delicious dinner of spicy noodles, steamed buns stuffed with meat and duck eggs, and a little piece of dried beef. The stall selling dried beef also offered little roast birds and fried silkworm grubs. I don't know (nor am I sure I want to know) what the little birds were, but I suspect baby egrets. Best of all, our exceedingly tasty - and baby egret/worm-free dinner cost less than $3 total. And that included a plate of spicy noodles for a wheelchair-bound street man.

Day 210 - Angelina Wuz Here

2008-01-10T02:41:00.000-08:00

We spent most of the day at Tha Prohm, better known as "The Angelina Jolie Temple," or "The Tomb Raider Temple." As such, it is nearly as visited as Angkor Wat. When we arrived, there were a half dozen or more tour buses parked in front, and as many or more cars and tuk-tuks. That was at about 11:15. According to Lonely Planet, most tour groups head into town for lunch, leaving the temples pretty empty. We expected a thinning of the hordes, but nothing like the mass exodus that happened at noon on the dot. By 12:30, we had the ruins virtually to ourselves - a far cry from the maddening crowd when we arrived.

The temple itself, once everyone left, is a huge, eerie place where trees are slowly engulfing the remains of an enormous temple complex. Over a relatively short time, the Angkor Empire defeated the Jungle to build a massive capitol city. As soon as they left, the jungle set to work reclaiming its rights. In Tha Prohm it seems to be winning. Preservationists can do nothing to stop the forest, as many of the trees have wound their roots around and through the structures to such an extent that to remove them would destroy the buildings anyway.

In the afternoon, we decided to forgo further temples in favour of exploring the modern town of Siem Reap. It is amazingly Western complete with CD shops, sidewalk cafes, and bars with slick interiors and names like "Soho". There's even a gay bar called "Linga" (the word means Shiva's phallic symbol) . After scoping out the neighborhood by day, we headed back to our guest house to shower and wait until dark to see the neighborhood all lit up.

It did not disappoint. Narrow alleys came ablaze with lights and sidewalk seating. If not for the Khmer menus, it could easily have been Paris or New Orleans French Quarter. We ate dinner at Dead Fish Tower, which proudly proclaims "Don't serve Dog, Cat, Rat, or Worm"- a real concern when ordering 'unidentifiable bits soup' from street stalls. The owner of our guest house once even had his dog stolen - he found her the next day tied up in a kitchen about to be made into soup. Dead Fish's other claim to fame are its resident crocodiles. These fellows lounge in a pool near the back waiting for fish or the occasional drunk Aussie to fall their way.

After dinner, we and our friend decided to hit Linga for a few drinks. After all, how many people do you know who have frequented a gay bar in Cambodia? Linga oozed style, and would have felt just as at home in NYC or San Francisco. The clientele were an eclectic mix of backpackers, Asian 'moneyboys', and mustachioed ageing Castro Street types. We had a lovely time sipping overpriced martinis (only one each - one cost almost as much as dinner!) before that over-priced-ness, and knowledge that we had to be up at 5:00 to catch the bus to our boat tomorrow sent us home....but not before stopping at Warehouse, a pleasantly chilled out place where we opted for non-alcoholic treats for the reasons stated above.

Day 209 - Culture Vultures

2008-01-09T06:45:00.000-08:00

That's the self-explanatory name for a tourist who wants to snap up every aspect of the culture they are visiting. And we were some intense culture vultures today. We woke up at dark-thirty in order to get a good place to watch the sunrise over Angkor Wat. It is more impressive in half light, but I was too distracted by the pony who came down to drink in the reflecting pool than any heap of stones. As the sun rose higher, we puttered around the complex admiring the light.

Soon we tired of our old friend Angkor Wat, and headed to Angkor Thom, whose main temple, Bayon is known for the giant faces carved on each side of most of its towers. We arrived early enough that the light still strafed across the faces and the tumbledown structure, making for some very dramatic shadows. Furthermore, the building had not seen so restored, and the jungle not so hacked away, so it felt much more like stumbling into an ancient world.

Best of all though were the monks. A group of monks from one the the Eastern provinces were visiting the temples of Angkor on a two day trip. Two little monks were fascinated by American tourists, and whipped out their cell phone camera (Yes, even monks carry the latest in cell phone technology) to take pictures of California Boy (a friend we met in Bangkok), and I. As we were leaving, we ran into their group again, and took turns taking pictures of each other. It was pretty funny to be the favourite subject of the Monk's pictures, when every Western tourist I know hope for a monk to cross into their frame as they snap away at the monuments.

From Bayon, we crossed the Terrace of Elephants (a terrace supported by hundreds of stone elephants), the terrace of the Leper King (a terrace supported by hundreds of stone...figures. I don't think they were lepers), and several minor temples. Finally we arrived at Preah Kahn, a good warm up for the 'Angelina Jolie Temple'(the temple that Tomb Raider was based on)

Preah Kahn from the front appeared deceptively small. Once inside however, the center corridor stretched on for 800metres (nearly a kilometre!) and the side corridors spread out to 600metres. We liked to call the palace the ranch home of Angkor Wat, as it was all one level, but sprawled out in a labyrinth of corridors and chambers. It too was partially consumed by the jungle, with parts collapsed completely. Signs warned tourists to check for 'live stone movement' before going under/any arch, as the last big collapse wast as recent as 1999.

By early afternoon, we had been looking at ruins for over eight hours, and were pretty well knackered. It took some doing to find a tuk-tuk driver willing to take us home for a reasonable price, but finally we agreed on a fare and returned to the guesthouse for showers, naps, and postcard-writing.

At 5-sh, we visited the local market street where hawkers offered everything from fake designer jeans to whole roast quail. I bought myself a fish and some fruit so I wouldn't be as hungry when we arrived at the swank restaurant where we were scheduled to have dinner.

We were having a swank (as in $6 a head) dinner in order to watch a shadow puppet and traditional Khmer dance performance. What we didn't know was that the entire performance was to be performed by children from a home for disadvantaged and orphaned kids. Not only that, but all proceeds form the show went directly back into the program to help in the kids' education, housing, and placement with families.

The children did a great job, and really seemed to be enjoying themselves. Best of all, the format was very informal, so we were 'free to move around and watch the puppeteers and musicians at work. It was a good way to spend the evening - a great show for a great cause, and a dose of theatre to boot.

Day 208 - Say Wat?!

2008-01-08T06:11:00.000-08:00

We slept in a bit today before heading to Angkor Wat. As the largest religious building in the world, Angkor Wat rivals the Taj Mahal in fame. Unfortunately, because I had built it up so much in my mind, seeing it in person was kind of a letdown. Sure it's big, but it is very compartmentalized, so it doesn't feel that big. The area around it has also been thoroughly cleared, so the structures sit on a dusty field broken only by the admittedly impressive reflecting pool.

All that said, it is still a pretty impressive complex of buildings with many really lovely bas relief sculptures. Furthermore, there are several alleys and galleries occupied by Buddha statues wrapped in saffron with offerings at their feet and monks and tourists alike paying their respects. And, despite being a a little disappointed in it, there is still definite spark of excitement simply by being in the middle of Angkor Wat. It could simply be a heap of rubble, and the name and connotations alone are enough to make it feel exotic and exciting.

It might not feel so big, but it did in fact take us most of the day to visit. When we were finally 'templed out', we ate a late lunch at Angkor Cafe, and headed back to our guesthouse. Strangely, the cafe was not hugely overpriced despite being slap-bang across the street from the wat. I suspect that this is the case because most of the tour groups head into town for lunch and a rest in the middle of the day. Which has a double bonus of cheap eats at the ruins, and if you are willing to brave the sun or choose shady temples, you have the monuments almost entirely to yourself.

After a short rest and shower - Angkor Wat is DUSTY, we piled back into a tuk-tuk to take in the temple at sunset. Keen to avoid the zoo on the hill, we opted to watch the light change over the big temple itself. It was sort of nice walking into the complex as everyone else was leaving. I don't understand why the hill is so popular. The view was far superior (and far less crowded) right in the temple.

Day 207 - Sunrise, Sunset

2008-01-07T05:37:00.000-08:00

We woke up this morning hours before daylight to catch the 5:00AM bus to Aranyaprathet, the Thai border with Cambodia. Unfortunately, I was wide awake for the dark part of the ride, and fell asleep just in time to miss a lovely sunrise.

Thai tourist buses are generally a scam, but are very easy to avoid simply by buying all bus tickets directly at the bus station. The bus station sells tickets only for state-run bus companies, and the quality of each class of travel is strictly regulated. The express buses to the border are all first class, which means not only are there air con and reclining seats, but someone comes by with little snacks and water. On the VIP buses, the service is upped once more, including meals, movies, and essentially barca loungers for seats. (We haven't gotten to ride one of these yet). On the downside (or upside depending on your opinion) karaoke is just as popular in Thailand as in the rest of SE Asia, and often the bus's audio visual system is set to en route karaoke. This is less than amusing at 5:30AM.

We arrived at the stop closest to the border at about 9:30AM. After a quick trip to the toilets, we negotiated a tuk-tuk to the border. The driver initially asked for 150baht per person. We ended up agreeing on 20baht per person. He was very cheerful about the whole thing - I suspect that when they ask for such ridiculously high rates that it is more a game than actually trying to get it.

The border was a little dodgy, as visa scams are common. We ended up having to pay a little more for our Cambodian visa on the Thai side of the border because Cambodia was temporarily suspending visas on entry for foreigners unless they could provide proof of onward travel. I would call it a scam, except that this particular hitch was government sanctioned - which makes it no less scammy, but at least I don't feel like a chump for falling for it.

Visas in hand, we walked across the border without a hitch, took the government bus to the taxi stand on the Cambodian side, and had soon negotiated a fair price for the bumpy 3-hour ride into Siem Reap. Bumpy because the road is largely unpaved. Having been to India and Nepal, we were unfazed by the unpaved road, and in fact felt pretty swank as we sat in air con comfort watching the dust billow past our sealed up windows.

Once in Siem Reap, we were surprised at how lovely the town is. Unlike Agra which knows people will come to see the Taj no matter how nasty the town, Siem Reap retains much of its French-Colonial charm, despite the recent boom in tourism.

By the time we finished a late lunch and showering off the road dust, it was nearly 4:30, and time to meet our tuk-tuk driver to take us to the ticket office and sunset point. Sunset point is a tiny temple perched on a hill over the plains and Angkor Wat in the distance. Unfortunately, it is VERY much on the tourist map. Resulting in the more striking view being red-faced tourists puffing their way up the hill and crawl-climbing the extremely steep steps to the top rather than the sunset. It felt like a scene from a Hieronymus Bosch painting.

It was still nice, though, if very strange. Monks in saffron robes peppered the crowd, and the Buddha statue in the center of temple had offerings of fruit and incense laid at his feet. I liked these small reminders, that despite being a UNESCO site, and tourist trap, it is still a working temple.

Tomorrow we follow the hordes once more to the mother of them all...Angkor Wat.

Day 206 - AAAAAARRGH.

2008-01-06T04:11:00.000-08:00

Spent the day dealing with trying to change our flight from Bangkok to Seattle. As booked, we have a 10 hour layover in Seoul. Seoul sounds like a pretty neat city. We would like to change our ticket so that instead of a 10 hour layover, we have a a few days to explore. You would think this would be easy. This was easy with both Turkish Air and with Malaysian Air when we needed to change those flights. Apparently it is beyond Delta's capabilities.

As of now, having spent hours (literally) on the phone with Delta representatives from Thailand, Korea, and the US, we still have a 10 hour layover in Seoul.

Remember how I said I didn't know what I was going to do when I had to deal with domestic airlines? Tearing my hair out seems about right.

AND my favourite fish-and-soup lady wasn't open today.

AND Cz's memory cards caught a virus, which made loading pictures nearly impossible, not to mention the possibility of having lost ALL of the pictures he's taken since the trip began.

I consoled myself with a pumpkin custard. And a visit with N, the Brit girl we met while trekking in Nepal. She's in Thailand now, doing a similar circuit to us, but in the opposite direction. We plan to meet up again in Laos when we expect our paths to cross again. The visit was a nice bright spot in an otherwise disastrous day.

Update: We do now, in fact, have tickets to Korea. We will be visiting Seoul from Feb7-12. We might be paying dearly to do it, but perhaps this little episode will be what convinces the publishers to give me lots of money for an advance on the book.

Karma says that's what should happen.

Day 205 - Park Benches on Pachyderms

2008-01-05T08:29:00.001-08:00

The Dutch girl we met in Kanchanaburi had never ridden on an elephant, and really wanted to try an elephant ride and elephant bathing while she was in Thailand. Cz and I have met, ridden, fed, and washed multiple elephants already, but I like elephants, so we decided to go too.

Unlike the elephant treks in Nepal, this one really was just an elephant ride. Much like pony rides in the States, we were placed on a gentle elephant and even seat belted into our park bench. The elephants did a slow circuit of a the woods near their camp and then walked down to the river for the 'elephant bath'.

We were each given a life jacket and rode the elephants into water deep enough that they could 'dive', dunking us into the water. More emphasis was placed on personal safety, and less on just playing with elephants in the water. I suppose that is necessary, as this is a much more established and touristy operation, and the river current seemed stronger than in Chitwan. It was still fun, but I missed my pachyderm pals from Chitwan.

After the elephant wash, we dried off, ate a last meal at our favourite restaurant, and hopped on a bus back to Bangkok. Apparently we chose the most popular bus, as we claimed some of the last seats before the aisles were stuffed Indian-style. Luckily it was only 3-hour ride until we back in Bangkok. We spent a little bit of time at the bus station getting info on tickets to Siem Reap, and were soon happily ensconced back at Sukhumvit Hostel munching on our favourite Phad Thai and fruit smoothies.

Day 204 - Seven Levels of Fun

2008-01-04T06:37:00.000-08:00

Erawan National Park sits about an hour's bus ride from Kanchanaburi. The main draw there is the 7-tiered Erawan falls. Aside from being very pretty, swimming is permitted in all the pools. The water is clear except where the force of the water churns up the milky white limestone as it tumbles down. The shallows of every pool are populated by schools of fearless little fish that nibble on hands and feet. In fact, during the building of the death railway, men would use the nibbling fish (not here, in the river Kwai) to clean away the dead and rotting flesh from their wounds.

Levels four and six to seven were particularly fun. Six to seven because the rocks were full of natural hand and toe-holds, so it was east to climb up the falls between the levels. The Australian and I went up this way and were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves, thinking we had found an untraversed part of the falls. Then we noticed a group of people emerging from the woods and a sign saying , 'end of the path'. Turns out we weren't the pioneers we thought we were - there was in fact a path by which one could walk quite comfortably to level seven. Our way was till more fun though.

Level four was great because its rocks were covered in a slick brown algae, effectively turning them into natural waterslides. We each took turns winging our way down the different boulders until it was time to dry off and hike back to the bus.

Tired and pleasantly sore from our very active day, we quickly changed and returned to our favourite restaurant for a big dinner. We figured we burned up enough calories to order at least twice as many dishes as we had people.

After dinner, most of us went for massages. Traditional Thai massages start at about $4 US for a full hour treatment, and oil massages (more like Western massage) are about $6 per hour. Cz, being the most sore from yet another day spent trekking went in for a whopping 2 hour treatment. He came back so relaxed and happy that I think the cheap massages might be just the carrot to get him traipsing around the hills on a regular basis.

Day 203 - Day on the River Kwai

2008-01-03T06:35:00.000-08:00

Kanchanaburi is a small town that would be completely off the tourist circuit, but for a certain bridge immortalised by Hollywood's version of WWII. The town has developed around its history with landmarks and museums scattered over a few kilometres. It is possible to hire tuk-tuks or taxis to get from point to point, but much more fun (and cheaper) to just hire bicycles for the day. As by the time we were ready to tour Kanchanaburi, we were a group of seven strong, we made a quite an impressive little parade as we pedaled around town.

Our first stop was the famous Kwai River Bridge. Since WWII it has been rebuilt a few times, and remains a working railroad bridge for local trains. The pylons closest to shore still show evidence of its turbulent past, but otherwise it is simply a tranquil bridge across one of many rivers in Thailand.

On the far side of the bridge, hawkers have set up stalls selling all manner of random stuff. Strangely, several tame peacocks cohabit the area in a large pen. Perhaps, like the abby elephants, it is possible to pay a bit to go in the cage with them and feed them. They seem pretty well-kept, but there is no logical reason for them to be there.

The area around the railroad leading towards the bridge on the Kanchanaburi side has developed a cluster of stalls catering to the many visitors. Our Australian friend decided to play on his Chinese heritage with a traditional palm-leaf hat from one of the stalls. He is a med student, and will be spending the next six weeks volunteering at a refugee hospital near the border with Burma. Everyone here is much amused with him and his hat, and he hopes that his comic antics will help relieve some of his patients' inevitable fear at the clinic.

After lunch, we pedaled over to the very informative Thai Burma Railway Museum. The museum was very well laid-out with several exhibits about the events surrounding the building, and eventual dismantling, of the 'Death Railway'. The museum overlooked one of the memorial cemeteries. We found it most striking (and tragic) that a recurring theme of the museum was that careful records were kept of all the European deaths, but there was almost no evidence that could be found on the Malaysian, Indonesian, Koreans, and other Asians that died in the building of the railway, beyond that they seemed to have the worst treatment an highest death rates. Similarly, in the war cemetery next door, there are sections for Dutch, British, even American troops, but no section for the Asians, simply because their graves in the jungles couldn't be found.

We raced against time to bike to the JEATH war memorial museum on the far edge of town. That museum was really more a collection of photos and newspaper clippings kept in buildings designed to represent the camp huts in which the soldiers lived for the duration of their time on the railway. Everything was permeated with mildew, and many of the photos curled at the corners with the damp. The evident decay might have detracted from the preservation aspect of the museum, but it did bring home the harshness of the living conditions.

We stopped briefly at our guesthouse to clean up a little for dinner and to admire the view from our porch. It's hard to believe a place of such tranquility was once the scene of so much violence.

We ate dinner at a great local restaurant where Cz entertained himself by taking 'art photos' of all our friends.

We finished the night in a local bar whose main attraction was a litter of almost-new puppies. Their eyes were open, but they still wobbled on fat little legs, and fell over to sleep anywhere - frequently our laps. In addition to the puppies, the bar had several nostalgic games like Jenga and connect four. One round of Jenga proved that the laws of physics do not necessarily apply in Thai bars. Within the first few moves, the whole affair balanced on two offset rods. Somehow the game continued until it seemed nearly every layer balanced precariously on a single piece. Each of us kept pulling out pieces to make it more unstable, assuming that it wouldn't come back around, yet somehow it did. An ill-advised move by Cz about two turns after this one finally brought it tumbling down.

Day 202 - Tiger Tiger

2008-01-02T06:33:00.000-08:00

We got up with the sun this morning to catch an early train to Kanchanaburi. As the taxi

crossed the bridge to Thonburi (the neighborhood with the train station) we were surprised at how much the bridge's silhouette resembled the silhouette of a famous Paris landmark.

The train itself, because it was a local train only offered third-class cars. The insides of the cars were painted an institutional aqua and mustard that was somehow cheerful in the way of grade school classrooms. Reinforcing the classroom feeling were the rows of wooden bench seats and the slightly musty smell of a classroom at the end of the school year - a faint combination of dust, sweat, and disinfectant. The windows, however were wide, and we passed through some very nice countryside. The Thais of this area are known as a riverine people, and we rode along several lotus-choked canals with houses perched carefully on stilts above.

We arrived in Kanchanaburi at about 11:00AM. The first guesthouse we tried was booked, but the second had rooms floating right on the river Kwai. Literally - many of the guesthouses in Kanchanaburi -this one included - rest on docks floating in the river Kwai.

By 11:30, we were settled around a shady table nursing cold beers and waiting for lunch. Incidentally, one of the top beer brands in Thailand is called "Tiger". As we sipped our Tigers, we discussed what to do for the rest of the afternoon. Aside from its rather famous bridge (yes we're on that River Kwai), Kanchanaburi is also near "The Tiger Temple", a tiger sanctuary run by Buddhist monks. Perhaps fortified by our tiger in a bottle, we decided to spend the afternoon frolicking with tigers of of the stripe-y variety.

It was a bit of a madhouse, as the tiger temple has become quite famous, and now tour buses from as far away as Bangkok make trips to visit the tigers. Despite the crowds, and being less of a temple, and more of a canyon populated with tigers and monks, it was still worth a visit. for the first part, we were escorted into the tiger area and allowed to pet the tigers. Judging from this fellow's reaction, it seems even big cats like Cz.

At 4:30, it was time for the tigers to walk up to their sleeping quarters. The youngest tiger actually got to ride piggy-back on one of keeper's backs. All the grown and half-grown cats had to walk. The younger ones were encouraged on their way by a 'cat toy' of two water bottles on a string being jiggled along in front of them. One didn't want to go in and snarled quite crossly at his handlers. He brought his point home with an impressive jet of pee on one of their shade umbrellas before allowing himself to be led up the hill. The final tiger was the largest and most docile of the group. Each of us got to take a turn walking with him and his monk towards the feeding area.

I was a little bothered that the tigers spend most of their day tethered essentially as a tourist attraction. This was alleviated somewhat because at the end of the day, they are released, and allowed to play with their handlers, the monks, and each other.

In addition to the tigers, Tiger Temple is home to a menagerie of other beasts, from a tiny bantam chickens, medium-size goats and deer, and giant oxen. I don't know how many of these other characters are destined to be tiger food, but until then, they have run of the compound and regular feedings of kibble and root vegetables.

It was hard to tear ourselves away from the animals, but our van was waiting to take us back to the guest house. we returned in time for dinner and few rounds of pool at a local bar. The local bar however, left something to be desired in the music department. When the four songs on repeat expanded to five with "Popeye the Sailor Man", we opted to pay visit to the local 7-11 (They're EVERYWHERE), and take the party home. Luckily we occupied 4 of the six rooms on our houseboat, and the other two were currently unoccupied. Otherwise there might have been some frustrated and sleepy neighbors.

Day 201 con'd - First Day of 2008

2008-01-01T03:56:00.000-08:00

We had a lazy start to 2008. Everything we did, we did slowly. We slept late, having celebrated the night away. When we finally de-cocooned from bed, it was nearly 10:00, bright, and sunny. We blogged for a bit, then we e-mailed for a bit, then we enjoyed a lesiurley tea and coffee in our hostel's little garden. Well past 1:00 now, our tummies were making 'Little Shop'-type noises, so we walked over to our favourite fish and soup vendor. She saw us coming and greeted us warmly. No fish had been prepared yet, but she dished up her lovely soup, and the best curry I have ever eaten. As we tucked in, we could hear laughing and frying sounds coming from the kitchen. Five minutes later we were presented with our very own crispy fish. She and her partner and crime even taught us a few phrases in Thai. In addition to "Happy New Year", we can now say "Very Good" "Hello", and "Thank You", which are the essential first phrases in any language.

After letting our lunch settle, we took the sky train to a massage parlour. I opted an hour and a half foot and hand massage, while Cz went for a whopping two hour full-body treatment. It does make me wonder that countries that seem to hate feet do the best foot massages. By way of apology to them, perhaps?

By the time we were thoroughly massaged, it was past 5:00. We decided to stroll home, rather than take the train. Along that route we passed a park in full bloom, and countless flower sellers offering orchids, birds of paradise, and ginger blossoms from plastic tubs on the sidewalk. Any exotic you could wish for is available for a few baht, but I challenge anybody to find a simple daisy. Fruits too - mangoes are in season now, so every corner stall offers yellow mangoes, green mangoes, mango juice, and mango smoothies for pennies, but apples and strawberries - those you have to pay extra for.

Almost home on our walk, we stopped by my favourite pumpkin custard vendor for a fix. The lady chuckled when she saw me, and gave a 10 baht discount because the piece I chose was 'too small'. In that way Bangkok really reminds me if Seattle. Of course there are the hurly-burly tourist centers, but for the most part the city feels like a big city masquerading as a small town. I like it here.

Day 201 - Sa Wat Dee Pee Mai!

2008-01-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Day 200 - New Years Eve

2007-12-31T04:56:00.000-08:00

We spent much of the morning lolling about the hostel reading books and newspapers and drinking coffee. That's the danger of a very nice hostel - sometimes it's virtually impossible to peel oneself off the roof deck and actually do anything. Fortunately, one of the blessings of long travel is that it is not necessary to do absolutely everything everyday. In regular life, no one is on-the-go all day every day. If we were, we would be frazzled messes. When one is travelling for several months, it becomes less like 'traveling' as we generally think of it, and more like 'living abroad in lots of places'. Travel becomes 'regular life', and downtime days are just as necessary as they are at home.

That said, we did spend a few hours out and about this afternoon. We started our day with a late breakfast/early lunch at a little restaurant serving fried fish and soup. They might have offered other things as well, but those were the ones on display which we could point to and order with hand gestures. The fish were just in a large bowl. Not wanting to appear too greedy (and not realizing just how good they were) I reached for a medium-sized specimen. The motherly lady working at the counter shook her head no,no, no, and tsking-tsking me, my picked out the plumpest, nicest one and plonked on my plate with a big grin. Both ladies were tickled with Cz eating vast mounds of rice from the serve-yourself rice cooker (most SE Asians we have met seem to think Westerners don't really eat rice, and then find it highly amusing when we do), and at my eating all, even the head, of the fish.

After lunch, we decided to ride the river taxi to Chinatown with two Americans. As usual, the river was quite busy with all manner of boats whizzing and chugging up and down. Longtail boats like this one remind me of mayflies the way they zip around the surface with their motor-on-a-pole trailing out behind. Most exciting were the many fireworks barges being set up for New Year's displays. All the swank hotels along the waterfront were scheduled to have New Year's galas, and each one seemed to have its own floating fireworks stage.

Since the other Americans had not yet visited Wat Pho (the big, reclining Buddha wat), and because that one is our favourite, we stopped there first. After the requisite oohhing and ahhhing at the big gold Buddha, and giving the great gong a few good hits to ring in the New Year, we spent the rest of our time wandering around the outer courtyard taking irreverent photos. We saw Thai families doing the same, so we figured it couldn't be too sacrilegious. I think this pony might be a bit too small for me. We were a little surprised at first when we heard one of the stone statues say "Pssst. Pull My finger!" , but being fart jokes being universal humour (even among the sacred inanimate) Cz obliged.

We walked from Wat Pho into Chinatown. It is one of the largest Chinese centers (maybe the largest) outside of China. We only skirted the edge, maybe the middle is more intense, and maybe we just built it up in our minds, but it seemed tame compared to Canal Street. We did however have a sampling of some seriously tasty street snacks. Here's one of the simpler ones.

Ingredients:
quail eggs
wonton wrappers
Optional ingredients (not in the one we ate, but I think it would be good)
scallion
parsley or cilantro
salt
chilli, pepper, or paprika

Hard boil and peel quail eggs
fold up in wanton wrappers
deep fry

It's that simple.
If you want to get fancy, you could season the eggs with salt, herbs, and spices, and tie up the wonton top with a scallion. Still pretty simple, and your momma would be so impressed.

Around 6PM we started gearing up for New Year's. First we stopped by our local food stalls for a 'fancy' New Year's Eve dinner of soup, fried rice, and coconut smoothies. Then we hopped on the sky train and hurled ourselves (or shoved ourselves to be more accurate) into the scrum of Central Square. I was surprised at how few foreigners were present. The crowd was mostly a sea of Thai families cheerfully jostling for position in the crowded square. It was crowded, but relaxed and happy, with none of the fierce competition for 'prime real estate' that happens every Dec 31 in NYC. Everywhere bright lights cheered 'Happy New Year' and 'God Bless the King'. The Ganesh statue on one side of the square was wreathed in swirls of incense and buried under mounds of jasmine, tuber roses, and marigolds left by Thais hopeful for a prosperous new year.

Fueled by two parts excitement and one part beer, we laughed and mugged for one another's cameras in anticipation of the big event. 2007 is coming to a pretty spectacular close. We are in short sleeves and sandals waiting to ring in the new year half a world away (and twelve-fifteen hours ahead) of everyone we know, yet we are still surrounded by friends and laughter. The Central Square celebration has been advertised as "Hands Together 2008" in the hopes that everyone will join hands at midnight in a gesture of peace and goodwill. So hand-to-hand we count down the last few minutes of a most eventful year. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6...

Day 199 - Market Day

2007-12-30T04:21:00.000-08:00

Today we went to the famous weekend market. The weekend market is a covered market with over 15,000 stalls selling everything from live baby squirrels (Pets or food? - I didn't dare ask) to handicrafts to random plastic junk, to 'designer' clothes and underwear. Pretty much if could be bought, sold, or traded, it showed up in the market.

We started the day with Thai ice tea. I guess here it's just called 'ice tea'. Regardless of the name, the making of it is an art form. Hot (but not boiling) water is pured though giant strainers of loose tea leaves. Loads of sweetened condensed milk is added, and then the whole concoction is poured back and forth between metal cups to cool and froth. As he pours (with as many as three cans in his hands) the tea man turn slow pirouettes and brings the cups closer and farther away from each other. All without spilling a drop!

After our tea, we nosed around the various shops. Perhaps most surprising was the shop specialising in country and bluegrass. Somehow we had stumbled on 'Little West VA' in the heart of Bangkok.

Of particular interest to me were the underwear sellers. A broken underwire and dead elastic converged with simply being tired of wearing granny bras. To my rescue came stall after stall of nice bras for $1-$2. Or so I thought. My bosoms are of average size by US standards. By Thai standards, however, they are HUGE - as evidenced by the only bras being close to my size having no sex appeal in colours like 'putty' with padded straps and triple rows of industrial hooks. After much searching, I finally found a simple black size 36, and snapped it up. First thing back at the hostel I tried it on. It was comically too small, a concept that my all-male roommates found hard to fathom. Lets just say my cups runneth over.

Despite the bra debacle, we had a marvelous time eating our way through the market. Most of the shops were a wash, but OMG the food. Perhaps this is why my clothes are rapidly filling out in all the places trekking had emptied them. Row upon row of steaming vats and sizzling woks competed for space with charcoal grills, smoothie stalls, and deep fryers. We never actually ate a sit-down meal, but sampled all sorts of tasty treats form the various stalls. Highlights included the phad thai, grilled something that I think was giant squid, strawberry-coconut smoothies, and spiced fish balls served with a spicy-sweet dipping sauce. Nothing cost more than 50bhat (about $1.75) for the big plate of phad thai, and most snacks were only about $.30.

I try again for a bra at the local shopping arcade, and again come up blank. The largest they carry is a 34B that looks more like a 34AA. I console myself with an amazing pumpkin custard served right in the steamed pumpkin shell.

After digesting for a few hours over a book that could have been written by Cz (by the wife of a traveller who is decidedly less keen on having 'adventures' than her husband), we head out for the phad thai at our local street vendor. It is billed as 'the best in the world', with newspaper articles in many languages extolling its virtues taped up on the cart windows. It does not disappoint - spicy and sweet with piquant lime undertones, this is probably where we will have our New Year's Eve dinner as well.

Our stay in Bangkok has morphed from its planned 2 days to nearly a week now. I really like it here, for much the same reasons that I liked the Pest side of Budapest and all of Istanbul. It is a heady mix of ancient temple, modern craziness, and just enough dirt to feel authentic. I look forward to ringing in the new year here with fireworks and over 100,000 of my closest friends tomorrow night.

Day 198 - The Big Guy

2007-12-29T03:05:00.001-08:00

I have been wondering why this is such foodie blog. and I think it is because eating, along with pooping and sleeping, is one of those things we do every day. And while the first squat toilet or hand and water 'wipe' might be a culture shock, after a few times, it becomes the norm and you stop noticing it. Same with sleeping - the beds might vary in dimension, height, or materials, but they are still essentially a rectangular place to sleep. Food on the other hand is different every day. Imagine the variety of foods available at home, and now imagine that same level of variety in each country with not a single item being familiar. Everyday is a surprise. Even if you dine entirely on street food, which we have been doing in Bangkok, one can go an entire trip without eating the same thing twice. Only sampling a only few street stalls, we have had different varieties of meat on a stick, tons of fruit, barbecued squid in spicy sauce, fried fish balls, and an amazing seafood stir fry for a late lunch. Tonight I am going to haunt the streets near our hostel and see if I can't rustle up a plate of phad Thai. (I've heard the vendor on our corner makes the best in the city)

Other than eating, we spent the day riding the water taxi and legitimately visiting the temples that we saw last night. Bangkok used to be known as 'The Venice of the East', a title which still holds water, if you will pardon the pun. By far the most convenient way to reach most of the monuments and temples is via the water taxis and cross-river ferries.

We began our day by taking the water taxi up to the temple district, and then the cross-river ferry over to Wat Arun, or temple of the dawn. The temple's many spires are covered in elaborate mosaics. From a distance, they appear to be simply coloured tiles, but closer inspection reveals them for what they really are; pieces of dishes and other china that had been used for ballast in Chinese trading ships. Flowers whose petals use the curved edges of plates with dainty blue borders flank other blossoms with tiny porcelain saucers for centers. A series of frighteningly steep stairs leads up almost to the top of the wat, and offers views over the river and city.

From Wat Arun, we caught the cross-river ferry back across to Wat Pho, where we visited unofficially last night. Today the 'Buddha Room' was open and we spent a good while marveling at the largest gold reclining Buddha in the world. This guy stretches over 45 meters long and I think 15 meters tall. The pillars surrounding him are all inlaid with coloured tiles and semi-precious stones. Even the soles of his feet are decorated with mother of pearl whorls on his toes, and pictures on the soles. Outside the temple a great gong sat waiting for anyone who wanted to to strike it. It produced a resonant booo-ooong that was as much felt vibrating through one's body as it was heard.

We walked from the giant golden Buddha to Wat Prakaew and the Royal Palace. The place was crawling with people, as this complex is the top tourist attraction in Bangkok. Justifiably so- it is a marvel of gold leaf, mosaic, and Thai architecture. Though the king no longer resides here, it is still used for some official royal functions. This December was the king's eightieth birthday, and in honour of his birthday, much of the mosaic work is being cleaned and restored.

The place complex also houses the Wat Prakaew, home of the Emerald Buddha. Actually made of another green stone (Jade maybe? Jasper? I forget), the little Buddha sits atop a glorious heap of gold and crystal spires. Unfortunately photos are not allowed inside the wat - fortunately, the outside is just as elaborately gilded and decorated.

Hungry from playing tourist, we made our way back to the area near the ferry dock, and tucked into the delicious aforementioned seafood stir fry and a bottle of fresh juice. It was fairly thick, dark green, and not too sweet. It tasted good, and was deliciously cold, but I'm not entirely sure I want to know what sort of plant it came from.

By the time we finished 'lunch', most of the temples and museums were gaining on closing time. rather than trying to rush and cram one more thing in, we hopped on the water taxi and headed for home. We have since spent a quiet evening reading and blogging. I think I will ask at the front desk if we can stay here through New Year's Eve, then try rustle up some street food. The carts outside are calling my name.

Update: We will be staying in Bangkok through New Year's Eve, and have found a ourselves a posse of fellow backpackers to celebrate with. We will have a real UN intro to 2008 - In Thailand, celebrating with an Indonesian (now living in the US), some Americans, and a Swede (now living in Germany) ...plus whomever else we can convince to come with.

We ended up not having street food for dinner after all. We and the Swede went to a shopping center where he had eaten lunch, and ate at a 'shabu-shabu' chain. Shabu-shabu is a like Japanese fondue, with a bowl of boiling broth at the center of the table, and trays of raw foods delivered to the diners for cooking at the table. My arteries are celebrating the complete absence of meat or fat on the veg and mushroom platter we ordered.

After dinner, we returned to the hostel to see what our roommates 'going out on the town' plans might be. In the lobby, we met an Indonesian-born California girl who was going to see the red-light district. Thailand is known for its sex trade. In fact, quite a few westerners come here purely for 'sex tourism'. Intrigued, we, and about half our floor it seemed, decided to tag along. The district itself was quite fun with bright signs, 'hot' markets selling 'designer' goods, and even a baby elephant that for 20bhat once could buy a bag of elephant food (cucumbers and fruit) and feed. The shows themselves are about what one would expect....more dancing than clothing, and some 'special' tricks. Most of the shows are known as 'ping-pong show', I'll leave the whys up to your imagination.

After going to a 'ping pong show' (when in Rome...),we went to a (somewhat) more legitimate bar. There were still 'working girls' and dancers, but no tricks. Everyone (including the girls) seemed to be having a good time. We actually got into conversations with some of both the clients and staff. One gentleman we talked to has been living in Thailand for seven years, and is a regular at the bar. He flirted goofily (and very drunkenly) with all the ladies, and they seemed to like him. Granted they are paid to do that, but in this case, their attentions seemed almost more friendly or maternal than sexual.

All in all, we had a fun time, and look forward to ringing in the new year in 'The city of Angels'. (Really - that's Bangkok's other name)

Day 197 - After Hours Tourists

2007-12-28T08:29:00.000-08:00

We spent the morning planning and re-planning. I had initially planned to take the water route from Cambodia into Laos, but that proved to be both too time-consuming and the one border that did not offer visa at point of entry (Thailand, Vietnam, and China all have open crossing points with Laos - Cambodia, not so much). The new, improved plan was to fly from Phnom Penh to Vientiane, where visas are readily available, but that proved to be prohibitively expensive. After much hemming and hawing, we finally decided to put the water route back on the table, cut at least part of the Buddhist meditation course, and pay a visit to the Lao Embassy in Bangkok. Our taxi driver teased us for wanting to leave Bangkok before the New Year Celebrations (we planned to head into Cambodia on the 30th, but now that's changed too) and tried to convince us that the embassy would be closed. It was not, and within an hour and a half we were in possession of Lao visas. While we waited for the visas to process, we met a very nice older couple who had been born in Laos, but who now live near Denver. They were both human rights workers, traveling all over SE Asia checking up on the community development projects they were running. Their company made the wait much more pleasant, and they had good insights on where to go and stay in Laos.

When we finished at the embassy, we strolled over to a nearby street market to get something to eat. This market seemed to specialise in 'meat on a stick' (called Satay in restaurants) . About $2.50 (70Bhat) got us four tasty sticks and a cold green tea from the convenience store next door. Late lunch in hand - by now it was twenty 'till four - we hailed a cab. It took a few tries to get one who would take us where we wanted to go for a fare we could agree on, but in relatively short order we were chugging through the traffic in air-con comfort. (To think, air con being a hot commodity in December!)

Soon we were back at our lovely hostel munching away in the tiny garden out front and watching the koi in our little moat. We weren't sure what to do with ourselves as it was after four, and most of the monuments we wanted to see closed between 3:30 and 5. We decided to take the sky train and river taxi combo into the monument district anyway, just to look at the places from the outside, and maybe see them with pretty lights.

The staff of the sky train and water taxi were quite friendly and helpful, and we found it very easy to get to the monuments, despite a total lack of Thai language skills. Also, the streets were very clean, quiet, and well-lit. From the guide book's description, we had expected Bangkok to be as hurly-burly and intimidating as Delhi. Perhaps we are a bit immune to hassle other foreigners get because Cz can pass as Thai - several times people have spoken to him in Thai and been surprised when he answered in English.

At the ferry terminal near the temples, there was a bustling market with all sorts of tasty foods and fruits. I finally found mangosteen, which I had been wanting to try since coming to India/SE Asia. They look like large, eggplant-coloured persimmons. Inside, the flesh is snow-white, very sweet, and sectioned like an orange. I had intended to save some for later, but wound up eating the entire half kilo while walking to the temples.

The temples were closed, and most seemed to be behind high walls with closed gates. As we wandered about, though we passed an open gate, and I stepped in and paused, not sure if we were allowed to be there. The sign on the wall clearly stated "temple hours 8:30-16:00", and it was well past '16:00'. A friendly guard saw me standing there looking uncertain, waved us in and invited us to look around. It was completely silent, and completely empty except for a few conservationists doing restoration work, and loads of slinky cats. The photos don't do it justice. Anything yellow in the pictures was in fact, glittering gold. Behind the silent, white pillars (which also had their share of inlay), coloured glass, gold bits, mirrors, and ceramic all competed for space in shimmering murals. Even the undersides of the porch eaves were painted red with gold leaf flowers. A team of gold Buddhas watched over the complex from their niches along the outer wall. The dark night, glittering buildings, and immense silence in the middle of the bustling city truly made the experience feel almost magical.

When we had tired ourselves out in the temples, we strolled back to the river. Logic seemed to say that if the water taxi going upriver was on this side, then the water taxi going downriver would be on the other. Logic didn't have a chance, as the water taxi had stopped running almost an hour ago. At a loss as to how to get home, and now on the worng side of the river, I asked the ticket lady for the cross-river ferry (still running) how to get there. Ticket Lady told us to go back to the other side and catch bus 1. all well and good, except we had no idea where to catch said bus. On the ferry, I asked the ticket taker if the ferry would drop us near the bus stop for bus one. Not only did he confirm that the ferry would drop us near there, he talked another passenger who was going that way, so we would have an escort. That passenger helped us ask a food vendor and two of his customers where to find bus 1. The vendor pointed us in the right direction, and when the bus arrived, the conductor looked at our map, and made sure that we got off at the right place to catch the sky train home. It was a roundabout way home - the water taxi is the most direct route - but a great introduction to the friendly helpfulness of the Thai.

Day 196 - Travel day

2007-12-27T09:44:00.000-08:00

Cz's mom left early this morning. Cz spent the rest of they puttering about the apartment and muttering "I miss my mom." While Cz puttered and muttered (and also read the Seoul guidebook), I spent the day planning the next six weeks. Like with packing, I piled up all the places I wanted to see, then tried to squish them into an itinerary. When it proved impossible, I cut a few cities. Still long on sights and short on days, I made the tough decision to cut Vietnam. Disappointing, but I would rather spend more time visiting fewer places in depth than simply buzzing point-to-point.

By 5PM, we were ready to go having gone through E's kitchen like locusts, planned and re-planned our time in SE Asia, and re-packed the packs to airline standards. Our cab driver was very friendly, and got us to the airport in record time. Cz almost had to abandon his walking stick, but the Thai Air people were able to convince the security check people that it was OK.

Thai Air might be vieing for the title of Cz's favourite airline. It was only a two hour flight, yet there were hot towels at takeoff, a snack, juice, unlimited beer or wine, dinner, even brandy after dinner! When we landed, the stewardesses came by and gave every lady on the flight a fresh orchid corsage. And that's in economy class! We are simply not going to know what to do with ourselves when we have to start flying domestic again.

We arrived at our hostel at 11:30PM. The front desk was friendly, and the rooms and bathrooms spotless. Best of all was the lounge area where a group of backpackers were happily chatting away. Cz and I got ourselves sucked into the conversation, and before we knew it, it was 2:30AM. It's not exactly the wild nightlife we expected to keep us up at all hours, but in ways, far more pleasant.

Day 195 - Back to Manila

2007-12-26T06:46:00.000-08:00

This morning we left in the dark to catch the first morning flight to Manila. Because we were going to be leaving so early, we packed last night. Our packing habits pretty much sum up our approach to traveling. On the left, you have Cz - everything is carefully pre-rolled and laid out in a particular order from which it will be re-rolled and packed in a pre-ordained configuration. On the right you have my pile. My method of packing is to pile up what I need, then roll, stuff, and squish it into the pack in whatever way seems to fit best at the moment.

The flight went off without a hitch, and E was waiting for us at the airport. He told his boss 'I'm meeting some very important people today', so he was able to take off work and escort us around. Our first stop was church on a hill. I don't remember the name of it, but it was very pretty. There was a wedding taking place when we arrived, so we had to wait outside. This wouldn't have been a problem except that there was a rainstorm of biblical proportions pouring down. Even with an enormous umbrella Cz and I were soaked on the windward side. The poor bride had a wedding dress of the 'fluffy merangue' variety, with a full skirt and long train. There were some acrobatics and mourning of satin sandals involved when she and her dress both tried to fit under an umbrella and make thier way out to the waiting car. Inside the church, despite the grey weather, the wide, stained glass windows glowed with light and colour.

After visiting the church, we had lunch at a restaurant overlooking Lake Taal. While eating, a group of children from a local orphanage and children's shelter caroled and played their ukeleles and guitars. They were very good. The little boy on the right, in particular, really seemed to be enjoying himself, bopping his head and swaying with the songs.

In theory, Lake Taal is one of the best views on Mindanao. Lake Taal is a large lake with an extinct volcano jutting out of it. The crater of the volcano has filled with water forming a deep lake-within-a-lake. Like the 'best views in Nepal' on Poon hill, this one revealed itself for seconds in between waves of fog and misty rain. It was still impressive even in glimpses.

After lunch, it was time for the last round of visiting. This time to the wife of Cz's deceased father's brother and her children ....read, an auntie and cousins. They were all quite lovely, though they did insist on feeding us leche flan (custard), despite the fact that we were still bursting from lunch. I think it's a rule that all generations older than your own must be convinced that you are starving. There was also much laughter when I picked up on a question asked in chabacano before Cz did. To be fair, it was a particularly Spanish-sounding phrase, and I have learned to clue in to key words - case (married), bebe (baby), anak (son), lola (grandma).

Family obligations fulfilled, we headed off to The Mall of Asia for some shameless consumerism. Not really - I just needed a new SE Asia guidebook and a few odds and ends for travel. I was sorely tempted by the ice rink, just to say that I had been ice-skating in the Philippines, but it was too expensive. Mall of Asia is one of the largest malls in the world, and currently all lit up for the holidays. The owner is a phenominally clever - and phenominally wealthy - businessman. Every shop in the mall not only pays rent, but also a share of profit. Furthermore, all stores in the mall are required to process their money through his bank - now the second-largest in the Phils.

By the time we finished shopping, we were all exhausted. Luckily there was a ChowKing in the food copurt for some restorative halo-halo.

Day 194 - Merry Christmas!!!

2007-12-25T23:41:00.000-08:00

Maligayang Pasko!!!

We woke up to J, one of the little nephews peeking over the railings of the bunk bed where we were sleeping. Cz's mom called to us to wake up for Christmas breakfast, and apparently that was his go-ahead. Cz wasn't even out of bed when J pounced on him for tickling and playing. We managed to eat breakfast relatively unmolested, safely tucked away behind a set of 'real grownups'. After that though, all bets were off. We were the 'creepy, creepy monsters' and therefore the favourite target of every light-up gun and plastic sword that had been opened the night before. There was no rest for the weary. Apparently even seated, Cz makes a fabulous jungle gym.

Soon it was time to shoehorn ourselves back into the van. To prevent squabbles, Cz wound up buried under not one, but three kids. Who would have thought Cz's bony lap would be such prime territory? The beach was lovely. As one of the little nieces put it "It's a great beach. All sand. No rocks!" The water was warm, the skies blue, and the beach was indeed 'all sand, no rocks.'

The edge of the beach was lined with open-sided bamboo huts with tables and benches. In one hut, Auntie T had laid out a Christmas feast. We stuffed ourselves, posed for a quick family photo, then headed to the water. As designated grown-up for the first wave of swimming, I had my hands full. Not only did I feel responsible for our brood, but also for the half-dozen or so extras that joined them to play (and to stare at my foreignness). One pre-teen came up and cooed "Ooooh your skin is so white." Here most girls want to be paler - everyone wears SPF45+ sunblock, and some even use whiteners. I told her that in America, most white girls want to be brown, and actually lie out in the sun in the summer. She didn't believe me. The smaller ones were all fascinated by my nose - I have gotten very used to *giggle* "Your nose is sooo big!" *giggle, giggle*

After a little while, Cz joined us, and as soon as the kids saw him, they swarmed all over him and the extras dissipated, and I was given a little respite. Not for long though. We made the mistake of introducing 'chicken' and 'whirlpool' and 'one, two, three, toss', and were kept spinning, tossing, and lifting until our hands were pruny, and every muscle sore. I am also now sporting a festive red nose, cheeks and chest. Apparently our sunblock is not completely waterproof.

This Christmas, I think, must be especially nice for Cz and his mom. This is the first holiday in a long time that Cz's mom has been able to spend with her sisters. The last time Cz was in the Philippines was 11 years ago for his grandfather's funeral. Some of the cousins with small children were not much more than children themselves then. Some aunts and uncles he hadn't seen since moving to America 22 years ago. For me this trip was all about meeting new family and trying to keep names straight. For Cz, I imagine it was a reunion or a homecoming of sorts.

We are far away from our physical homes in the States. Home though, is far more complicated than a plot of land or four walls. The feeling of being 'at home' has very little to do with geography, and very much to do with love. Of geography, we have almost nothing this Christmas, but of love, we have plenty. Santa may be riding a caribao (actually saw that one), and the tannenbaum may be palms, but comfy-cozy are we, surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, lolos, lolas...

I do miss the familiar, my geographical home, and the home of family left in the States, but I also feel awfully blessed by what we have. We wish you all the very best and brightest this holiday season. May you be loved and warm and at peace. Merry Christmas!!! Maligayang Pasko!!!

Maligayang Pasko!!!

2007-12-25T22:52:00.000-08:00

Which means, "Merry Christmas!"

Day 193 - Countdown to Christmas

2007-12-24T22:51:00.001-08:00

After we consumed an enormous breakfast at Auntie T's, LV picked us up to take us to her home for the family Christmas celebration. Along the way, we picked up R, J, and their respective families. By the time we arrived at Del Monte, there was a lechon, about four bags of other foods, nearly ten kids, and half as many adults crammed in the van. The kids were piled two deep on some laps. All of them were grandchildren of Auntie N, and we suspect a little sibling rivalry in the carpooling scheme.

Almost the first order of business once we arrived at LV's was an equally enormous Christmas lunch - lechon, dinuguan, fruits, sweet potato tops, bread, spaghetti...Afterwards, none of us were very much good for anything more strenuous than playing video games, napping, or reading. Soon though, a horse and two ponies arrived, and all the kids - plus Cz and me - piled out to go riding. The horse was a little feisty, and frightened the children, so I had her almost entirely to myself. Even Cz was cajoled into riding one of the ponies, once he was assured that this particular pony would not run, even if every other horse was taking off around her. Sure enough, as the tiny black pony (the kids' favourite) and my horse cantered back to the house, Cz's trusty mount walked along, calmly nibbling grass whenever it grew tall enough towards her mouth.

Hot and sweaty, we returned to the house and claimed the bathroom for showers. Mass wouldn't be for another 2 hours, but with all the people in the house, we figured that we should claim it when we could.

Christmas Eve mass was held at 6PM in an open-sided church building. It was full to capacity and beyond. Bats and geckos had their own Christmas feast on all the bugs drawn to the light spilling out in all directions from the church. I never thought I would spend a Christmas where mosquitoes would be a consideration! Most Christmas Eve services that I have been to are joyful , but in a restrained 'proper' sort of way. This one was joyful in the way some Southern Baptist churches are joyful. The church teemed with small children, and a troupe of them read the response prayer in relay. After nearly every carol, bells and noisemakers of all sorts would be rung. A Christmas tree and a manger flanked the altar. The Christmas tree was decked out with all sorts of ornaments, even some clumps of detergent 'snow'. The manger held all the traditional figures, but was further endowed with multiple strings of red and green lights, some blinking. The young acolytes, a whole team of them, swung incense and carried candles up and down the aisle and around the altar. I'm not sure what that was all about, but it felt special.

Most years, there would be multiple Christmas Eve services, but this year there was only going to be one. Because all the different groups who would usually be going to their own masses were coming to this one, the congregation spoke many dialects. Rather than choose one dialect over the other, the priest spoke the mass in English. His English was halting, but he managed the whole service. Like any good minister, the homily was place specific, recounting a story of a family moving house by bus (everyone travels by bus around here) who were so concerned over their household goods that they forgot their child.

When the service ended, we all piled back into the van to head back to LV's for Christmas dinner. Which was yet another feast. Afterwards, the children played games, watched movies, and bounced around waiting for midnight. Because, midnight is officially Christmas. And 'Officially Christmas' means time to open presents. Only a few kids and most of the adults (me included) conked out. As the clock ticked down, the noise and excitement built so that soon the whole house was awake. On the stroke of midnight, G, LV's husband set off round after round of fireworks to much cheering and "Merry Christmas"-ing of the adults, and much "NOW can I open my presents?" of the kids. All around the neighborhood, we could see and hear similar flashes, booms, and cheers. It really felt like a celebration.

Back in the house, a midnight 'snack' awaited us. We ate to the tune of new toys being tested, and with frequent interruptions to be shot with light-up guns, watch neon helicopters fly, and cheer on our video game experts. Finally, the gunslingers and gamers started to tire out, and one by one, we all managed to get to bed. With so many people in the house, bodies came to rest nearly everywhere - every couch, every bed, even most of the floor space was occupied.

Even with the crowd and all the ages present - three to seventy-seven - there was not one tantrum or major fight. Just a whole lot of family that seemed happy to be celebrating together.

Day 192 - Christmas Spirit

2007-12-23T02:01:00.000-08:00

Cz's mom woke us up this morning at 3:45 to get dressed for Misa de Gallo. I was not pleased.

I managed to stay polite and get myself dressed and out the door, but it's a good thing no one here can read minds. I was stewing. Thinking to myself something along the lines of, "Thre's plenty of masses, why this one, why this early. Grrrrrr. It's just a show of faith. Grrrrr. Everyone goes to Misa de Gallo just so they can show how holy they are Grrrrrrr." Have I mentioned that I don't function in the early morning? Scratch that. I actually like early morning, if I have sufficient time to ease into it. And 'early morning' is 6:30. NOT 4:30.

That said, my mind changed pretty much as soon as we arrived at the church. It was full to overflowing with people spilling out the doors and into the parking lot. Many, us included, brought along their own stools and chairs so that they would have a place to sit. Some of the hymns were Christmas songs that I recognised. This was a big deal, as up to this point all the Christmas music has either been familiar words set to strange tunes, or familiar tunes, not in English, or with different words entirely. It was so great to hear "The First Noel" and "Gloria in Exelsius Deo". I finally felt like it was Christmas and not just another party coming up.

Another thing which lifted my mood was the way in which they performed the Lord's Prayer. I look askance at the church in many ways regarding religious doctrine, but I do believe that it can function well as a community or family. Prayer, I often feel should be a private affair, and ritualised praying in a church often feels stilted and fake. Here, though, the Lord's Prayer is sung as a hymn with the congregation holding hands. It didn't feel particularly holy, as in 'talking to God', but it did feel like here was a strong community, a safe place, a family that would look out for one another beyond blood, and that, I think, is enough.

After mass, it was only just getting light. Cz played on the computer while I read a little. Soon, a drowsy PI came in wanting to play. We bounced around the bed until it was time to go down for breakfast. After breakfast, we puttered online, napped, and played with PI. By lunchtime, family started arriving for tomorrow's Christmas Eve party. We visited for a bit, then I retreated to the room to send out Christmas e-mails and update the blog. PI and Cz soon followed.

We took turns keeping an eye on the kid. I kept a word document up behind the blog so that when she would climb into my lap, she could type to her little heart's content and not mess anything up. While she was occupied with the computer, Cz filled out Christmas cards for all the children. When she got bored with typing, I would switch back to the blog, and he would let her play with cards he wasn't using, and otherwise keep her amused.

This morning, one of the games we played with PI was to let her draw in our journals with both our black pens and the gold pens we had bought for writing Christmas tags. This afternoon, when I finished blogging, I got out Cz's colour pencil set. I figured maybe 15 minutes of quiet playing, but between colouring, sharpening the pencils, and playing with the shavings, PI entertained herself for about 2 hours. She also invented a new game where she would tell me letters, colours, and words to write, and then would spell them out for me. She's a very clever 2 year old, that one.

Day 191 - Cooking and shopping

2007-12-22T18:24:00.000-08:00

Strangely, some of the things I have missed most on this trip are the ordinary, day-to-day activities like grocery shopping, cooking, and going to the laundromat. Today I did two out of three. I got permission from Auntie T to use her kitchen, and Cz's mom took me to the market. I spent the bulk of the morning happily puttering around mixing marinades and figuring out how to reproduce the fried eggplant from yesterday's food stall. It turns out to be surprisingly simple.

Ingredients:

Chinese Eggplant
Eggs (enough to coat the eggplant)
Flour (enough to dredge the eggplant)
Oil
Salt to taste

Grill or broil the eggplant whole, stem and all, until the skin is slightly charred and the flesh is tender but not mushy.

Set aside to cool

Lightly beat the eggs in a bowl

Mix a nice amount of salt with the flour in a wide, shallow dish. A pie plate or casserole dish would work well

Peel the eggplant - the skin should pull off easily with your fingers. Leave the stems on.

Flatten the eggplant. I used the side of a wide knife.

Dip in Egg

Dredge both sides in flour

Fry in very hot oil until brown and crispy. It is essential that the oil be quite hot (nearly smoking) as otherwise the eggplants will absorb it an become greasy. They don't need to cook very long - the eggplants are already done, the frying is just to put a nice crust on them.

The weird, red lumps just down from the watermelon are meatloaf. I put some sausages in them for flavour. Turns out the sausages were mostly food colouring, resulting in decidedly lurid meatloaf. Didn't seem to slow anyone down in eating it though. The whitish lumps are fish marinated in a ginger/garlic/soy sauce mixture, then baked. It's really simple, and works with any flavourful fish (ie. bluefish, salmon, mackerel).

After lunch, I blogged for a while, then it was off to the shopping center to get Christmas presents for everybody, and to pick up Cz's barong and glasses. Remember how Cz claims to hate shopping? This trip to the shopping centers - totally his idea. First stop, the barong tailors, where the barong fit perfectly and looked very nice. Next stop, the chaos of last-minute Christmas shoppers to buy 24 picture frames at the discount mall near the barong tailor. Stop 3, the more posh mall to collect Cz's glasses and to develop pictures to go in said frames. Everyone on our list, naughty or nice, is getting a picture of us and a picture of somewhere we've been. If you read this blog before you get yours, just act surprised when you unwrap it.

While waiting for the pictures to print, we had halo-halo...again. The stuff is seriously addictive. Well, Auntie R had halo-halo. The rest of us had variations on the theme of bubble tea.

Home again, we set to work labeling, framing, and wrapping gifts. Auntie R was a big help, and we were done by 11. After we finished wrapping, we went downstairs for a midnight snack, and found Auntie T still awake. The business is so crazy before Christmas that she has no time for a break during the day, and is busy until late at night. She was still up when we went to bed at midnight, and planned to be awake at 4:00 for tomorrow's Misa de Gallo. I don't know how she manages to stay awake, let alone function and stay cheerful.

Several of the family own their own businesses, and all of them work incredibly hard. It is interesting to see how owning a business makes what would be a a 40 hour a week job at someone else's workplace into a 24 hour occupation. It is a little like freelancing I suppose, in that we are consumed at all hours by what we do, but at least we have the freedom to choose our jobs, or say, to leave the country for eight months.

Day 190 - Over the Rainbow

2007-12-21T17:22:00.000-08:00

We woke up early this morning to visit the Davao Watershed Park and Eagle Conservation Area. The park was very beautiful with a nice balance of landscaped grounds and rain forest. Tucked in between the planted areas, were various perches and cages for the different raptors that live in the Philippines. The main goal of the park is education about the Davao Watershed, and the breeding and reintroduction of the Philippine Eagle, of which there are only 500 known left in the wild. The Braminy Kite, on the other hand, is quite common. The park had several in residence; some lived in cages, I'm guessing because they had permanent injuries, but others, like this fellow, were free to fly round and keep an eye on the guests.

After the park, we visited the Davao Chinese Cemetery, where Cz's paternal grandmother, Lola S, is buried. Chinese families preferred that their children marry other Chinese. Cz's Grandfather was the first in his family to break that tradition when he chose Lola S for his bride. She had been raised by a Chinese family, but was in fact, Filipina. Furthermore, Chinese ladies were generally not educated (Lola S only went to school through grade 4), as they were expected to stay in the house and take care of the family. Lola S bucked tradition by being the original shopkeeper of the store that preceded where we had dinner last night. In her spare time, she loved gardening, and maintained a flower bed where she could be seen working outside right by the street. Shocking! I can only imagine how appalled Cz's grandparents would be by his decision to marry not only a non-Chinese, but a Whitey foreigner.

We followed our visit to the cemetery with lunch at a street stall. Among the tasty treats were stuffed squid, a version of ceviche, seaweed salad, meat dishes, sauteed green beans, and assorted soups. Cz got especially excited over the flattened, fried eggplant. It tasted pretty uncomplicated (and very nice), so I will try to reproduce it when we get back to Cagayan.

Which is where we headed after lunch. Auntie R, Cz's mom, Cz, and I were lucky enough to catch one of the super-deluxe air-con buses heading to Cagayan. The landscape passing by was a tangle of rumpled green hills draped in strange yellow-grey clouds. Occasionally the sun streaked through the clouds, often splashing dramatic light on the hillsides, and once, even making a HUGE rainbow.

We arrived back in Cagayan shortly after dark, and just in time to hear a group of carolers, all carrying candles and decked out in Santa hats. Traditional Christmas caroling is still alive and well in Cagayan, and it is impossible to go anywhere without a few street urchins coming up and singing for coins. Surprisingly, though, if you give the kids a coin, they all say 'Thank you', and some even sing a thank-you song. Polite street kids! It says a lot for a country when even the street kids are polite.

Day 189 - Davao

2007-12-20T17:09:00.000-08:00

We boarded the bus to Davao at midnight last night to visit Cz's father's side of the family. Auntie R would be flying into Davao from Manila, and her plane was scheduled to arrive at 7:00AM. Our bus was due in at 6:30 AM. In theory the sisters who were picking her up from the airport could stop by the bus station and pick us up too. Only the sisters hadn't been told WHO was at the bus station. They only knew that they were going to be picking up 'some people'. It was a happy surprise, and there was much hugging when we all met up.

Soon we arrived at Auntie S's house (the eldest sister), and were introduced to another phalanx of family. Everyone was very sweet and insisted that we drink Milo (like hot chocolate) and eat local bananas and bread. As a child, Cz loved Milo, and his mom would use the Milo to sneak milk, vitamins, and other healthy tidbits (read: tidbits which Cz would normally refuse) into his diet. Cz's aunties were thoroughly amused that his love of Milo had not diminished with age, and this inspired a spate of family remembrances and the introduction of old photo albums.

After our little visit and breakfast, we all went down for a nap. I hadn't slept at all the night before, and Cz and his mom had only gotten six hours of sleep on the bus. As a result, our 'nap' lasted from 10AM until 4PM.

When we were awoken by the merriment of yet more family. This group were the husbands, children, grandchildren, and in-laws (I think) of Cz's dad's sisters. Do you see how everyone being uncle, auntie, or cousin according to age makes sense? You could spend the whole visit just trying to keep relationships straight otherwise. (I still spent most of the visit trying to keep relationships straight...) They had just come from the wedding of a nephew[?], and consequently were in high spirits. Everyone was super-friendly, spoke a little English, and wanted to talk to us. The conversation resolved itself into "So when are you going to make Cz's Mom a grandma?" No surprise there.

The house was still full when we piled into a jeep to sight see around the area. Our first stop was the public beach. The sand was black, whether naturally so, or from pollution, I don't know. Even so the beach was very pretty, and the children splashing in the water didn't seem to care about the state of the water. I imagine they have played in it their whole lives, and have immune systems of steel.

In town, we stopped at the church. The old church was taken down to allow room for a much larger new church to be built. The facade of the old church was left standing, though unfortunately on very busy street, so we weren't able to take a picture from the from to compare scale. The new church seems to be about 4 times the size of the old. Even so, it is still filled to overflowing for Sunday masses. India may have been the most visibly religious country that we have visited, but the Philippines seems most devout.

Cz's dad's family used to own a store at the town crossroads. They joked that their 'Chinese blood' made them good shop owners. To this day, the youngest sister runs a small shop with her husband. After a stop at the open-air market for fish and mangoes, we made our way to her shop for dinner. The 'neighbor's cat' (who sleeps in Auntie M or her daughter's bed, who has been named Puti (white), and who stops by for meals) wanted in on the grilled fish feast. I slipped her little bits of fish all evening. Little did I know that at the end of the meal, she would get all the leftover rice and fish. Her belly was so round that it made her fur stand on end. She slept my lap, all four paws in the air, until the camera flash woke her up. Even then, she didn't seem inclined to move. I can't say that I blamed her.

Day 188 - Christmas is Coming!

2007-12-19T23:55:00.000-08:00

Remember the coconuts from the backyard in Abu Sayyaf country? Well, we finally got around to rolling them into candy today. The sweet coconut mixture first had to be shaped into a ball, then rolled in powdered milk, and finally wrapped in coloured cellophane. PI lurked behind in the shadows behind the growing pile like a little troll protecting her loot. (and claiming an occasional 'protector's fee', naturally)

Rolling the candies took much of the morning. Afterwards, Cz and I put on a DVD. We didn't get to watch too much of it though, as PI's nanny was need to help somewhere else in the house, and we were put in charge of entertaining the munchkin. And so, I now present to you, The Toddler Workout!

1. The Baby Bench Press - Lie on one's back with toddler prone on top of you. lift, hold aloft, and lower toddler until giggling ceases. This could be an infinite number of reps.

2. The Toddler Tummy Toner - Lie on one's back as for the Baby Bench Press, but with legs up. Have toddler place feet just above ones knees, and hold her under the arms so that she is mostly upside down. Lower legs to floor and sit up in one motion to turn toddler right side up. Reverse (lower body, raise legs) to flip her upside-down again. As with the Baby Bench Press repeat until giggling stops. Again, could be an infinite number of reps.

Dude, my abs are SORE.

Independent travelers' warning: Do not do any of the above exercises withing earshot/sight of grandbaby wanting in-laws.

I am a klutz. Today I managed to break the doorknob of the bathroom resulting in me trapped inside. PI found this infinitely amusing. It took three of the house staff, a large knife, and removing the doorknob to rescue me. I will be treating all doors with tenderness and respect for the foreseeable future.

Because the family is so busy, they don't have time to go to the hairdresser, so she comes to the house. Today was haircut day, and even I got a little trim. Not enough to be noticeable, just nipped the split ends. When we get to Seattle or NYC, I will go to my regular salon for a proper cut. Nearly 7 months on the road, and my style could best be described as 'shaggy'.

For someone who hates shopping, Cz does an awful lot of it. Today we went on a quest for the perfect barong, the traditional formal shirt of the Philippines. We went to the tailor in the evening, and decided to have dinner at the shopping center near the tailor shop. The Philippines is the only country in the world where McDonalds isn't the number one fast food restaurant. Jollibee holds that crown. The menu has mix of McD standards like burgers and fries, and filipino treats (though mercifully NOT balut eggs - you can buy those from the street vendor outside).

After our 'healthy' dinner at Jollibee, we headed back to Auntie T's house to collect our packs for the bus ride to Davao. Auntie T and F joined us for the ride to the bus station. We decided to conclude our health food kick with a round of halo-halo. Since the last halo-halo picture was taken after the dish had been properly smooshed around (smooshing is essential to mash the goodies on top into the ice on the bottom), we now present to you halo-halo in all its glory.

If the crowds in the shopping center weren't notice enough of the season, we passed lighted displays on every street from the halo-halo restaurant. Christmas is upon us, sunshine, palm tree, and all.