I Believe It's Jogging or Yogging. It might be a soft J…apparently you just run for an extended period of time. It's supposed to be wild.

As of Wednesday I’m coolin out in Yogyakarta, still in Indonesia. I decided, sick as Bali was, I should see some of the rest of the country especially since Bali is supposed to be so different. Enter this ville.

So far I’ve visited a village that got straight mowed down by lava after a volcano eruption in 2006, a silver shop, dragon fruit “orchard” (somebody correct me on that one…?), and some rad Buddhist and Hindu temples.

On the rando crazy Asian side – I saw a monkey dressed in shorts & a t-shirt riding a tiny motorcycle on the median at a stoplight while his master played a drum in the hopes of makin some extra scrilla. Now that is the kind of street theatrics I will gladly support. At another stoplight, traditional Javanese dancers complete with costume, makeup and music rolled into the intersection, danced for 30 seconds, then walked around to cars to collect change. This needs to catch on elsewhere... I’d never be bored in traffic again.

Then again, maybe people here just need something to break up the monotony of never going any faster than an average speed of 40 km/h. EVER. Alright, correction, I once hit 50.  But the fact that the speedometer in the van I’ve ridden in for the last 3 days tops out at 120 km/h (aka, what 70 mph?) means obviously nobody is getting anywhere near that. I have proof traffic moves this slow in the fact that a dude got off a moving bus today to yell at some lady to move her car, jogged to catch back up to the still-moving bus, and hopped back on.

Anyway, back to the van I’ve been riding in… Dude at my hostel, Mr. Adi has driven me around to all these places rollin deep in an ‘85 Suzuki Super Carry 1000 (I did not make that name up), aka a van without a grill. Yeah. Like inside the van, the front under the dashboard is just wide open. You can watch the ground fly by beneath you. Grill was probably the incorrect term there but whatever.

This grill-lessness allows for a nice breeze to flow through the vehicle during nice weather, but yesterday it starts raining and all of a sudden I find myself being pelted in the face from below. The physics of this were possible due to the fact that my legs are too long to sit in the front of the van so I have to sit in the middle of the 2nd row to accommodate my limbs. This provides an ideal climate for the raindrops to fly in off the wheels, through the hole and at a perfect trajectory to land on only me and my mug.  A delight.

Please note the fact that this ice cream bar is referred to as an Instrument of Delight on the bottom. Yes, yes it is.

Before the rainstorm, I had decided to go check out Borobudur a Buddhist temple (Prambanan, a Hindu one, was the next day). Really cool old temples, circa 9th-10th centuries but  maybe more interesting – since you can go Wikipedia that noise – is that people here are funny.

I swear, I exaggerate not, when I say people asked to take a picture of/with me upwards of 25 times in 2 days. I counted. It was 27. And I caught people videocamera-ing (it’s now a verb, tell your friends) me on three separate occasions. Just creepin. Paparazzi what? After a while I started to throw my camera into the mix so I now have a plethora of pictures of me with several groups of enthusiastic Indonesian strangers. The perfect souvenir. And I thought the staring had tapered off indefinitely after Cambodia.

For example…

And those are only the ones I got pictures of.

At the silversmith workshop, the cat that runs the place gives me a tour and then proceeds to tell me he’ll give me a better deal only if I bargain in Indonesian. My vocab literally includes banana, careful, thank you and maybe 4 other words (including the numbers 1, 2 and 5. I consistently forget the rest…) so clearly that wasn’t gon cut it. All in the name of  a sale, homeboy gives me a mini-vocab tutorial which I dutifully recorded on my giant man-hand. I can make copies if anyone needs one for your next vacay to this part of the world. Maybe the best part is I didn’t even end up buying anything cause I wear gold. Ah well.

I just want to say that I also ate fruit that was the literal consistency of pulled pork. Like shredded, and spiced and shiz. Gudeg? I think that’s the name. Yeah. Made of jack fruit apparently. Interesting… but I’ll keep my food group consistencies separate from now on.

That is fruit.

Finally, while at the store last night I discovered sprinkles in Indo are called chocolate rice (or at least the brand I came across), as I read on the package… maybe explains why the niece of the dude that owns the hostel literally has rotten teeth at age 4 (they are brown and half disintegrated, no word of a lie) since I see her eating them by the spoonful for breakfast, lunch & dinner. Good thing you get a second set for your parents to try again, kid... In the meantime, rebranding those might help with the apparent misunderstanding.

Oh, I head up to Padang, on Sumatra to volunteer for Hands On Disaster Relief rebuilding houses for people that lost them in 2 massive earthquakes that happened up there at the end of September. Should be a cool experience and it’s probably about time I did some good in the world…

Gator Boots

The internet spot I’m currently sitting in is no joke blasting “This Endless Love” (I know anybody who ever attended a wedding in the ‘90s knows what I’m talking about) so I’ma try to keep this short in the interest of not cutting off my own ears. Here we go.

Malaysia happened a week ago and I have to say I was a little underwhelmed. To be fair, it really didn’t have a chance to begin with since it was monsoon season so it poured rain in KL and all the supposedly amazing islands on the east coast were inaccessible due to high waves.

So note to self: monsoon season in Asia is not the same as monsoon season in Arizona which basically translated to the skies might open and it could rain the 2 out of 3 times it rains all year. Maybe.

After getting soaked in KL for a day, moms and I decided to skip out to Langkawi on the west coast where the rains are supposedly reversed. After Thai beaches I should’ve known nowhere else really had a chance but don’t say we didn’t try. Fortunately my mom was impressed so it wasn’t a total loss. Also fortunately, I live to tell about the 3 days there after the croc farm incident.

After a day of moto riding around the island, we decide to try to find this crocodile farm/zoo where they apparently breed the beasts to be made into goods. Gator boots, handbags, all that good stuff. After a few wrong turns we find the place and scope it out. They got baby gators & crocs (I’ma just refer to them as one and the same from now on), deformed ones of which my mom was given a free postcard, big ones, old ones, you name it.

Out of nowhere in one of the pens (?) we see this small Malaysian dude just chillin’ atop the biggest one in the park just havin a leisurely smoke. LIKE HE’S NOT SITTING ON TOP OF A GIANT GATOR. I wanted to tell the kid, you really need to think about making some changes in your life when a gator back is the best spot you can think of to have a cig… but unfortunately I was interrupted mid-thought as his buddy announced that I too could have my turn on the great beast.

I’m sure the gator appreciates being used as an ashtray

Once again - not of my choosing - I find myself entangled in a ridiculous situation involving wild animals. Unlike last time, however, this critter never had a chance to be cute and normally would most likely just swallow me straight up. With these circumstances in mind, I obviously decline… until once again interrupted, this time mid-sentence, by my mom. Taunting me.

I’ma let you finish, but let me just say, Beyonce had the – sorry, what I meant to say is that let me just say that a mother shaming you into what is essentially a sure-death situation amounts to peer pressure the likes of which few can say they have ever experienced. I really didn’t want to do it, but come on, when a 59 year old lady is telling you not to be such a chicken and just get on the gator’s back, you saddle up and you get on the damn gator’s back. The woman did give birth to me after all.

And yeah it doesn’t make sense to me in retrospect either.

So for a mere $5, I put my life in the hands of the smoker kid who gave up his place on the gator’s back to stand in front of it with a 1-inch wide BROOMHANDLE on gator’s jaws/face. I felt so relieved to know dude was protecting my life with such sophisticated equipment.

At the end of it all, I sat on the 33-year old, 2000 lb. gator’s back for max. 65 seconds but only because that’s how long it took for me to revisit the events of my life and realize I didn’t want to die so young. From now on I’ma just stick to wearing gator.

Other than that, we chilled at the beach and tried to nurse my mom back to health. Turns out people really do get swine flu. Who knew. Good thing she lied about being in the vicinity of anyone with the disease within the last 2 weeks to get into the country. Her justification – "I wasn’t near anyone who had it. I had it".

And now we see where I get my logic skills. Care of my mom, the Meek family can now add “importing disease to a foreign country” to its illustrious resume.

After a return trip to KL to pick up my cousin A, we rolled to Bali and sweet glorious sunshine. Bali is awesome, though I still think Thailand had better beaches. I promise that’s the last time I’m gonna say that.

The first, last & only sunset I will have ever gotten up to see.

We started in Ubud for the first few days, hiked around, saw more monkeys, took part in a Hindu procession to the temple (and pretty much had no idea what was going on the whole time) and prayed with devotees in holy baths outside the city. After, we rolled to the east part of the island to Amed to snorkel this US shipwreck site, then Lovina in the north to see some dolphins and finally Sanur in the south. Covered some ground in 10 days…

Also, we stayed here:

Was that wrong? I kid. That was probably in really bad taste but hooold up. Free lesson for the kids: turns out it's actually a Hindu/Buddhist symbol for good luck/wealth/good fortune… But still. I couldn't help but feel a little awkward walking in and out of that place. Yipes.

In unrelated news, I may or may not have fallen off my moto in Amed going a little too fast down a hill into a sharp turn… sand shoulders really helped my cause. Fortunately the road rash was minimal and I managed to keep it under wraps from a worried mother for like, 45 minutes til we went snorkeling and she busted me when she saw my elbows, foot and whole upper right quad scraped up… Don’t tell Dad?

Pink Helmet. What more can I say.

Since moms & A left on Monday I biked down to the southern tip of the island to peep the famous surf spots – Ulu Watu, Padang Padang, Dreamland etc. It was cool and I meant to take lessons but it never quite worked out so I just watched people that knew how to get it done. Lame yes, but maybe next time. I also figure what with my having to get back in the gym in a month, maybe I should avoid more injury-inducing activities… K, no that wasn’t really it. I mostly just didn’t want to get up at like, dawn for a lesson so I’ll just go with the first more legit excuse.

I finished up in Kuta aka dirtbagville for a night which was taken over with Aussie schoolies gettin drunk off their chops. Unpleasant but I had to chill before I fly today to Yogyakarta, another city in Indo on Java. Someone try to tell me that doesn’t sound like a pretend cartoon place.

Life Is But A Beach Chair

Sweet glorious Thai beaches. They lived up to the description, I’ma just say that straight out. They kill the beach scene dead.

After 2 consecutive nights of “sleeping” on trains, Sarah & I roll into Chumphon, this dirtball coastal town at 1 am, thinking we’ll get a hotel and just sleep til 1 pm to catch our boat to Koh Tao the next day. We were hilariously mistaken. After roaming around the train station, a couple wrong turns and a run-in with a straight up cat-sized RAT – all the while carrying Sarah’s MASSIVE rolling bag cause she’s moving to Australia after the trip – we come across a sight for sore eyes. A beacon of light in the shady, dank streets of Chumphon…. sweet 7-Eleven baby. Stopped in for a Coke slurpee and a pack of gum and we were on the road again.

I kid.

Unfortunately this particular Sev proved less fruitful than originally hoped since everyone inside pretended not to understand “taxi” and my (frankly, spot on) gestures to CALL ONE PLEASE.

This brings up a related tangent about a common occurrence while travelling in Asia: sometimes you need to ask someone for directions, advice or miscellaneous info of some type so you approach was looks like a competent Thai/Vietnamese/Cambodian/Whatever. No big deal.

It’s at approximately 3 words into a semi-complicated request such as “Is the bus station somewhere on this street?” that you realize this person has NO idea what the sounds coming out of your mouth mean, let alone where to find the Royal Taj.

Unfortunately, you can’t just stop talking 3 words in and walk off, since this would obviously be rude… plus Asians, being the hospitable people they are, will never just tell you they don’t know but instead smile and nod, all the while giving themselves away with this distinguishable glazed look in their eye. so I’ve taken to just changing the question mid-sentence to something simple like “When is your birthday?” and then acting like this is what I really wanted to know all along. Of course I walked all the way across Chumphon to ask you, yes YOU, where and when you were born. And just like that, I disappear like a thief in the night. No sense wasting my breath and your time. We’re all better off this way.

So after asking Palawa where she’s from, how the weather is this time of year up in Chiang Rai and how many siblings she has, I realize this conversation is getting me & Sarah no closer to a bed on which to lay our weary heads. Luckily a toothless moto dude rolls in to buy some cigs at a key moment and offers to take us, 60-lb. rolling bag and all, to the boat office somewhere else in town. Money. You may not be a real moto driver, hell, you may not be sober but we’ll take you son.

Dude hauls us off somewhere, wakes up his friend at a hotel to ask where the boat office is at and we get there only to chill on the luxurious plastic lawn chairs and listen to ridiculously bad Thai karaoke from 2 til 4 am. Longer story shortened – we find a room above the office at about 4:30 when it opens for a hefty $5 and sleep like babies til noon.

First stop was Koh Tao and it was the business. Small, but way chill and just had a good vibe. Good food, good people, and the water. Man, I never seen anything LIKE it. Crystal clear and the most gorgeous shades of turquoise. No wonder people come from all over to dive here. Ballin.

We rolled deep with another Canadian we met on the way to the island, rented motos and explored the island on our own for once. Sweet freeeeeeedom from annoying taxi/tuk-tuk drivers. The sun was setting so we rode off into the dusk over dirt roads and under a palm-framed sky painted a myriad brilliant shades of oranges, pinks and reds.

This place is gon be allllllll riiiiight.

Next day(s) were filled with snorkelling (or snorking as I prefer to say now that I heard it called that like a dozen times by Thais) and loungin’. We came across a beach volleyball court and played a couple sets with some locals and I can proudly say this time was more successful than my first experience back in Cambodia… then again the bar was set impressively low.

Rolled to Koh Phangnan next, which was to be the site of my ultimate downfall. Cruisin ‘round on rented motos, we see an elephant farm on the side of the road and naturally pull over to have another look. Elephants are impressive as usual, munchin on some palm leaves in their stalls, but there’s this monkey. He’s on a leash, hangin around the owner and ooohee, look how cute he is. I take a few pictures of the little critter but he’s gettin a little tired of havin his leash yanked about by the Thai guy and begrudgingly hops on this Swedish dude’s head for a photo op by dude’s wife.

Out of nowhere, monkey reaches the end of his pitiful rope and decides to take it out on my right pointer finger. 2.4 seconds later I’m dead and bloodied, army crawling along the roadside calling desperately for an ambulance. The best part is that the monkey chomps on my digit, and absolutely nobody is even a little concerned. When can a person get some compassion in the world today if not after being bitten by a rabid primate. The Swedish wife was obviously cracked out and had already picked the monkey up to scratch his belly. DID YOU NOT JUST SEE WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!!?!

I think the owner just tried to pretend he didn’t notice until I hold up my bloody wound and he gives me a less than concerned “oh”. Wound cleaned up with some mysterious brown stuff that may or may not have been iodine, I’m out before the seizures set in so bad I can’t drive. And that’s the way it ends. A little anti-climatic cause I never did get rabies or anything else… but me and Sarah thought we should probably show the minimum level of concern and responsibility and ask a pharmacist how worried we should be about me becoming a fingerless wonder. She didn’t seem as amused about the situation as I was (after I reminded myself every 5 mins for the next 3 days that I GOT BIT BY A MONKEY IN RURAL THAILAND, it got a little funnier) and said to ask the owner if the monkey had had a rabies shot. According to him, “It’s ok, it’s ok. No problem”. He definitely didn’t even pretend to understand the question but hey, if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that from everyone from taxi drivers to well, monkey owners…

The rest of Koh Phangan was more of the same glorious beach living except for the random hairy black hog we saw chillin’ on the side of the road outside this mechanic’s shop one night. It kinda seemed like he was a pet or something but it was random and hilarious when the mechanic dude throws his young son up on piggy’s back for a ride. Similar to bulls, pigs don’t like being touched or ridden.

Last but not least was Koh Phi Phi on the other side of Thailand on the west coast. Getting there was rather an involved process and we had to take a boat to Koh Samui, fly from there to Phuket and then take another boat to Koh Phi Phi the next day. Hmm, that’s not interesting at all. Sorry for that.

Koh Phi Phi was just as rad as the other islands and maybe even more beautiful which I didn’t think was possible. It’s where they filmed The Beach so since my pictures of the place capture neither the beauty of the surroundings nor the beauty of 90’s Leo DiCaprio, go watch it and appreciate.

The one day it poured down rain we did an AMAZING snorkelling trip (still haven’t dived since Sarah in her delicacy can’t go deep as a result of childhood ear surgery… I’m not even bitter Sars don’t worry! Just kidding) and I can confidently say I’m not as scared of fish biting my feet off as I was before. I’m now more scared of monkeys.

We met some cool Swedes who confirmed what I have been told at least, yup, every time Asians try to guess where I’m from, that I look Swedish… even to Swedes. I’m in! I had the brilliance to try to ask them after this that if I was speaking Swedish would they think I was Swedish… Sarah tried to stop me mid-sentence from saying what is one of the dumbest questions anyone has ever uttered but luckily they got what I meant and my credibility as an idiot blonde only went up slightly.

Sarah has now since left me to go back to Australia to be with her man and I’m now kickin’ it with my moms in Malaysia. Actually we’re done with Malaysia, on a flight to Bali right now. More on that later.

Thai Time

Once again I’m like, a good week behind so here goes a full week’s worth of shiz in a few paragraphs...

I got to Bangkok last Wednesday to meet up with my sister Sarah, thus putting an end to Chapter 1 of the trip – Vietnam and Cambodia – and my solo status, for a couple weeks at least. SHE’S SO LUCKY TO GET TO ROLL WITH SUCH A COOL GIRL!!!!!!

Wow Sarah, thanks for that.

I had heard mixed things about Bangkok - mostly bad - so I didn’t have the highest of expectations. We were stayin on Khao San Road aka backpacker centrale and it was a little bit of a gong show. Kinda like a Thai Vegas strip with tourists frickin galore and Westerners generally acting like douches. Had some good street Pad Thai so I guess it was redeemed in that respect…

Still, I had to restrain myself more than once from hitting smug old dirtbags rollin’ around with young Thai girls, acting like they gamed hard to get her and earned it or something. OBVIOUSLY YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A LOSER IN YOUR OWN COUNTRY, thus, take your douchebaggery abroad? At least don’t moonlight like you’re a real couple or something ridiculous like that, with the hand holding and pretend conversations when neither of you speak the same language and such... she ain’t with you for your rugged good looks OR personality, son.

Anyway.

Serenity now.

Moving on.

So we spent all of one day in BKK before we had to get the eff out. I have to agree with whatever I’d heard about people not being fans of the place. From what I saw – obviously not much – it’s just massive and felt sort of sterile compared to Phnom Penh or Saigon. Yeah, they’re all dirty and chaotic but at least the other cities of somewhat comparable size had some weird charm underneath the insanity. Seemed like that was pretty much MIA in Bangkok. Also, EVERYONE tries to make money off you, which happens elsewhere but nowhere near as bad. Nobody can be friendly without trying to take you somewhere, sell you something, or tell you about a ping pong show… Those who’ve been know what I mean.

So we blew that giant popsicle stand and flew to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. I’d heard good things from just about everyone that’s been there so hopes were high since Thailand was losing the race for sweetness after the intro in Bangtown.

The cab ride to the airport was actually the high point of the city. We had this hilarious taxi driver called ‘Papa Sawat’ who had the most hilarious accent and laugh. Holy catfish, that man loved life. He also enlightened us on his views on ladyboys aka the men that dress up as ladies EVERYWHERE here (which I later got asked in the south if I WAS ONE?!), and tried to teach us a children’s song about elephants in Thai… that was something of a disaster and tried is the operative word there. Not only is my mouth incapable of making those sounds, but there doesn’t seem to be any kind of a distinguishable melody after the first line… Don’t believe me, see below. (If you're reading this on Facebook, you might have to go to the actual blog to see the video... the link to the blog is somewhere on this page).

At any rate, we got the first and last lines down money so we used it to impress locals for the rest of the trip. We were getting it down pretty good; at one point actually considered putting a pointy Asian hat out upside down on the street corner to sing and earn an honest buck... I mean Baht. So cool right now.

Anyway, we got to Chiang Mai and lived in style for a couple days for a solid $2.50 a night so the place already started out on the right foot. Shoutout to the Little Bird Guesthouse heyo.

First night in CM we did a cooking course which was rad besides this one Nazi German couple in our group (snap, on second thought, that might not have been the best adjective choice…). The cutest girl teaching was possibly the smiliest individual I’ve ever met and you’d think teaching foreigners how to butcher Thai cuisine was the most fulfilling job on earth. Fortunately, we all did good and the food was bangin’. For one night at least. Too bad once we try to repeat that operation while not under her watchful tutelage we’re all toast.

There were some cool people in our group besides zee Germans though and the highlight came in the form of this Swedish couple who spoke spotty English at best so following heavily accented instructions was just NOT happenin for them. This resulted in a sort of culinary free-for-all where they just followed whoever was next to them… which worked out fine until you remember that we were all cooking different dishes. Also, all their ‘cooking’ was always done on full-blast heat… The husband for SURE accidentally threw in a few extra “special” ingredients into more than one of his dishes, especially the coconut soup.

The meal was not potluck for a reason.

Check the slick butcher aprons…

Next day was the highlight of the trip to Thailand so far (yeah it had 2 other days to compete with… back up off me). We got up at dawn, aka 8 a.m, to go elephant riding, trekking through the jungle and river rafting on both a rubber and bamboo raft. YEAH. BOY.

The elephants were amazing but somehow we got put on the smallest of the herd (gaggle? troupe? pride?) so I had to feel a little sorry for the beast. After we saw a baby one, chillin next to its parentals and had to go feed him some bananas. It was all fun and games til the mom wanted some lovin’ too and started using me as a personal punching bag til threw some fruit her way too. I still have trunk-whip wounds.

K, that might be a little excessive, but I did get hit a number of times. Good thing elephants move so slow I could dodge her nasty left hook with ease. Rumble in the Jungle vol. 2, WHAT UP.

The jungle trek was fun mostly cause Sarah and the Chinese guy in our crew decided to do it in flip flops and this turned out to be a laughably bad call. We’re hurtling through forest at a rapid pace, limbo-ing under trees, braving raging rivers on precarious bamboo “bridges”… all the while yelling ‘JUNGY!’ every 3 seconds to remember where we are and show the generic French cornflakes of our youth some love. Heids and Dad, I hear your voice every time I say it.

Got to the top, swam in a waterfall, came back.

On the way down the mountain through the morning mists, we see some livestock of the bovine persuasion peacefully grazing on the tender greens of the Thai lowlands, as they were. We slinked comfortably close to them as we passed by on the old bamboo trail. At this point, Sarah turns and brilliantly dares me to touch one of the gentle giants.

Let’s revise the scene. I’m looking deep into the soul-less eyes of this mean muthaf***a. Steel ring through his nostrils, razor-sharp horns gleaming in the blazing sun, this bull is not to be effed with. And yet, for reasons still unknown, I rise to the occasion, reach out and give the white devil a gentle pat on his velvety snout. To be fair, he was smaller than the average bear. Ahem, bull

To sum up, bulls do not like to be touched. Not when they’re sleeping, not when they’re grazing, not ever. Let that be a lesson to you city folk everywhere. My short life flashed before my eyes as he started, thought about goring me, and then had a last-minute change of heart. Thus, I fortunately not turned into human shish kabob.

Brushes with death aside, we moved on to confront the river. The “rapids” and rafting were chill. We repped for the Commonwealth with 2 Brits, an Aussie and us in our little boat. Cruising down the river, we also took out the passing boat of Germans with our paddles on the way by. That’s never happened before… After, the guide transfers us to a 25 ft bamboo raft and we’re on our own for the last bit of the trip. Mostly uneventful but how often do you get to ride a bamboo raft so it was cool enough.

And that was it for Chiang Mai.

Would’ve been cooler to stay longer but we had to get to southern Thailand cause Sarah wanted to spend a week on the beach. We decided not to fly back so night train it was. That was all good except I felt like I was sleeping in a space ship. Nothin wrong with that.

Back to Bangkok for a day and then another night train to endless beaches in the south baby.

Tastes Like Chicken

  

Cambodia. I had like 2.3 days there so the trip was way quick but man. Saw some stuff.

I rolled into Phnom Penh after the 10 hr boat ride I talked about last time and decided the girls I met on the boat were good people. Apparently the feeling was mutual and we decided to kick it together so I had friends for 2 days. Heyo.

Unbeknownst to us, the Water Festival aka the biggest fest o’ da year was going on while we were there and the city was a complete zoo. Or more of a zoo than it always is. Word on the street is the population of  The Penh straight doubles during that time so needless to say my wide-open-spaces Canadian-ness was shocked to its core. Good thing Cambodians were shocked to their core too… I thought Vietnam was bad, but staring of that impressive caliber doesn’t happen everyday. Apparently a ton of people from the country come to the city for the festival so maybe they don’t see a lot of foreigners. I don’t have all the answers but one thing I do know I scared a lot of children and small old people. Maybe one day soon I’ll get sick of talking about the staring… not yet though.

So me and the Canadian & German check into our guesthouse and decide to roam the streets. You know, mingle with the locals and such, cause everybody is out chillin’ by the river. A few steps from our door this nice lady is selling fried whole frogs and deciding to try one, we inadvertently set the tone for the evening. Yes, I have lived in France on two separate occasions. No, I never cared to try the grenouille legs while I was there. Cambodia, however, brings out something different in me and I plucked off hoppy’s thigh and threw it down my gullet. Seriously, texture and taste was like chicken but still. One was enough.

Hardened by my frog experience, man I was on to bigger things. Braving the crowds for another ten minutes and we stumble on the bug lady servin up fresh and crispy grasshoppers. Yeeeeah boi. We made this bitter American girl passing by take pictures for us and our faces pretty well capture the thoughts inside my head. The taste was actually pretty charred BBQ steak-y except every .4 seconds you remember you’re eating a bug and it all goes bad. The worst was that there were loose bits of wing and abdomen and gnarly whatnot stuck in my teeth for a good while afterwards. I kid you not.

Last, snake. I don’t have much to say about that cause it was also fried, but to oblivion so consequently it was wholly impossible to bite off the stick it came on. Like, imagine biting into fried tire. That was the texture we’re working with here. I was ok with that though cause it meant less snake to digest and my stomach was already wondering what the eff was goin on.

Anyway. The next day the buddies and I decided to do different stuff so I went to Tuol Sleng aka S-21 which was the torture museum used by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge in the ‘70s.

I can’t say a lot about that because it was super intense and hard to take. Most anything I could write will in no way do the place or the victims killed there any kind of justice and will just sound trite. But needless to say, I took my time and tried to take it in. Try being the operative word because I think maybe it’s just me, but my mind mostly just can’t grasp how horrible people are capable of being to each other and what it really means to be tortured, killed and thrown into a mass grave for no reason besides existing at the wrong place in the wrong time. I sort of felt like I’d get 2 second breakthroughs and be able to start to wrap my head around what really went down there and then it was gone again… and I could only sort of try to understand in a totally disconnected, lame intellectual way. That makes little to no sense but maybe somebody that’s been there or to a concentration camp or something similar gets what I tried to mean. Visiting Auschwitz was a similar experience for me. Heavy.

 

After spending a lot of the afternoon there, I decided to just chill and walk around the city. I was supposed to go to the Killing Fields which is one of the mass graves they found in Cambodia but an expat I met at breakfast said since the city is so crazy right now, it could be really hard to get back in if I left to go the 20 or so km. Also, I was kind of thinking that might not be so good for me in terms of ever being able to feel happy again so I decided against it for that day. Wish I would’ve gone but maybe next time.

Hung out for the rest of the day but most stuff including the Royal Palace, Silver Pagoda and other sights were closed so I decided to go to the gym and workout. I am probably 1 of 2 people all time that has come to Cambodia to work out…. but since I restart training w/ natty team like 2 weeks after I get home in Dec., I figure I should make at least a weekly effort to maintain…

This turned out to be one of the worst ideas I’ve had in a while. The streets were PACKED like I have never seen before and after getting like 3/4 there on a moto, I have to get off and walk. Unfortunately this quickly comes to a complete, and I mean complete, halt like 15 m after I start walking. Literally there are people from one side of the street pressed up against buildings all the way to the other side so there is nowhere to go but wait and shuffle 2 steps every 4 mins. I’m serious when I say it took a full hour to go less than 300 m to the gym door.

I’m standing there in the midst of a crowd of black heads, being tall, and all of a sudden this little teenage girl grabs hold of my arm and says “I told my friend you are big so it’s OK”. I was like, well alright then. Can’t argue with that.

She talks to me for another 10 mins or so before it comes out that she’s disabled and has prosthetic legs so I can only imagine that manhandling crowds like that can’t be easy. And now it all makes sense why she’s holding on to me (remember, wall to wall people so I couldn’t see her legs…). Anyway, her English is really good so I asked her if she wants to see what’s going on since I have a good, I dunno foot, on the thousands of people in the immediate surroundings. She was dying giggling to her friend but I took that as a yes and proceeded to cause even more of a ruckus than I already naturally do. Let us picture the scene: Phnom Penh by night. I don’t even know how many people. Me holding a tiny Cambodian over my head, gladiator-style.

Luckily, about 10 seconds after I picked her up the crowds moved enough for me to go the last 15 m to the gym so I set her down and jammed. Piggy back complete, my work there was done kids.

Worked out in the most beautiful gym of my life, ate and by 11 the crowds had finally thinned enough to get home. Next day was Siem Reap & Angkor Temples but my lappy battery is about to die so that’s another story for another day.

P.S In an unrelated note, my sister Sarah’s contribution is to say there’s a monk on the bunk next to us on the night train to Bangkok. Bunk mates? .…monk mates! (Wow. HER WORDS, not mine. Dad: she’s doing you proud with the horrible jokes).

 

Good Morning Vietnam

Note: Since I’m in SE Asia, posts are about to get a little long since I actually have stuff to talk about… at least for the next 2 months. Just a little boredom disclaimer beforehand. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Also, since I’m lazy see the end for picture link.

Note: I also just like saying Nam.

So it’s my 4th day in Asia and I’m on a tiny boat slowly riding up the Mekong River to cross from Vietnam to Cambodia. Like literally, I’m on the river as I type this and listenin to a little Jimi Hendrix. What else would I be listening to in Asia you ask. I have about 47, 586 things to say but I’ll try to keep it relatively short cause these can get boring and I’m all about the fun around here.

I’m alone for this first week while I kick it in Nam and Cambodia ‘til my sister Sarah meets me in Bangkok on Nov 4th. I flew into Saigon aka Ho Chi Minh City Wednesday night after a 25 hr trip. I actually felt relatively coherent on arrival and somehow had energy to spend like 20 minutes haggling with taxi drivers to get me to my hotel for a semi-reasonable price. Obviously they instantly know I’m not from around there so things are always at least double if not more.

The city is absolutely insane and chaotic but awesome. There are a billion motos roaming the streets causing mad noise cause everyone uses their horn every 2.2 seconds to let people know they are coming. I saw a lady carrying 2 baskets hanging on either end of a stick slung across her shoulders and wearing one of those classic Asia pointy hats (that probably have a name but I like mine) and I was like dude. I’m here.

Crossing the street is for sure the scariest thing I’ve done so far in my young life, as it basically consists of just walking out into the middle of traffic (since there is never ever any break) and just letting vehicles/motos/bikes go around you. I was about peeing my pants but saw this old lady just give ‘er and go so I figured if she could, I had to man up and do it too.

I went to Ben Tranh market the next morning and immediately got bombarded with like 20 ladies selling any and everything and trying to take me by the hand to their stall that is identical to the next 10… I’ve never been yelled at so much. “Miss! You wan handbag? You wan tshirt? Miss! What you look for? Miss!” Gah.

Did some other stuff in the city including the War Remnants Museum and lessened my previous ignorance on the bad stuff went down during the war. Anything I say about war will sound trite but dang. Met a Brit girl in line so I had a friend for the afternoon and had a chat over some Pho. The food here is so tasty so far. I also realized once again how much I suck with chopsticks and I’m sure the restaurant people are just loving watching me struggle so they can thank me later for the entertainment.

After dinner I had an interesting experience. I decided to get a massage by this place recommended in my book. It’s run by the blind association of HCMC so I get in there and hope they realize I’m standing at the desk. They do and I go into this big room divided up like in the movies of ‘40s war hospitals. The girl that worked on my bones was talking with whoever was working in the cubicle next door the ENTIRE hour and this was at 8 pm so who knows what they chat about all day long…? Anyway, it was money and all for $2.

Next day, My Tho & Ben Tre on the Mekong River Delta. I took a 20-min taxi to the bus station for like $7 and then paid $1.50 for a 2-hr bus to My Tho. Funny how that works here. I was the only Westerner I saw anywhere at the bus station and absolutely smoked my head on the ceiling of the bus when I got on. The floor is of course raised when you first get up the stairs… This was in addition to the minimum 3 times I ran my head into the 5 ft doorframe at my hostel. Lovely. I noticed everyone was sitting on the same side of the bus so I follow the crowd and turns out Vietnamese know which side the sun will be on for a trip and sit accordingly. These people are brilliant.

My Tho was cool but I realized on arrival I had no idea where I wanted to go. A moto guy steps in and takes me to the river where I book a boat tour around for a few hours. Once again the hotel owner setting it up tries (and succeeds somewhat) in massively ripping me off despite bartering with him for at least 20 mins. Neither my boat driver or “guide” spoke a word of English besides ‘coconut’ and ‘tip money’ so it was a long, silent ride to Unicorn and Phoenix Islands (no joke) but I like to pretend it was good for me in some meditative monk-like way or something. Turns out I was just really bored. I kid, it was cool and parts were absolutely gorgeous. Plus I got to wear a python,one of those pointy round thatched Asia hats that scream Asia, hold a honeycomb teeming with bees and eat dried ginger and little baby bananas (not plantains, I promise). What more do you need in life.

Even better, the restaurant we go to for lunch has snake, iguana, turtle, eel, crocodile, in addition to the usual tamer meats on the menu. Like it ain’t no thang. Unfortunately I settled on something without parents and had veggie fried rice. The python I wore earlier lives to see another day…

K, this is not short but I only have 2 more days so bear with me.

So mini-bus trip to Can Tho after the boat tour. It was interesting cause the dude driving just stops whenever the 1st mate guy in the back sees someone that needs picking up and yells while angrily slapping the side of the van. I always like road travel here cause there are people all along the way – no open spaces along road like in Canada – and something to look at.

Case in point – a man is walking a GIANT, for real horse-size pig down the side of the road on a literal leash. Like it’s going somewhere. That’s not an exaggeration, seriously the biggest pig I’ve ever seen and he’s just trotting down the interstate on a rope. I also saw a group of guys playing volleyball on a cement court with just a rope and some threads of what used to be the net. It’s like hardcore streetball... next thing I know they’re gonna be using chains on the net for volleyball too. It would take illegally touching the net to a whole new level – touch the net? Lose a finger!

Yes, I literally played that all out in my imagination as we drove by.

We stop at a little restaurant/market for a short break and I apparently caused quite a stir cause people are staring like never before. At this point I haven’t seen a foreigner in a while, so maybe they don’t get many around these parts…? Anyway, this young kid working at the restaurant eventually works up the courage to say hello and all his friends just die. At the same time this man walks up and decides to shoot a quick drive-by pic on his phone . So I hand my camera to someone and the crew that has gathered and phone guy jump in. Meanwhile I look up and pretty much the whole marketplace is watching this little show go down. It was funny to see people react like that but so far it is always friendly and I don’t get the feeling they are staring out of anything other than curiosity. It’s a weird feeling to be the only person that looks like you anywhere nearby.

Can Tho was where I thought I’d meet my death. I get off the bus after sundown and moto guy agrees to take me to my hotel. Next thing I know, we’re driving down this shady dirt road which opens up to a platform on the water. No way out, I’m thinking. We get down there and there are some colorful characters just lingering and I’m like OH snap. What the eff is this. Right about as I picture getting chopped up to be fed to the fishies for breakfast, moto dude informs me that we gotta take the ferry over to Chau Doc. Of course! Ferry dock... Information that would’ve been useful to me 5 minutes ago while I just about peed my pants back there.

Can Tho was a meh city but I did another boat tour on the Mekong and visited these floating markets at Cai Rang. The boats are really interesting, most al made of wood and have eyes painted on the front so they got real swagger on the water. Tons of small long, skinny shallow boats carrying fruits & veg to the market and lots more pointy Asia hats which we all know I love. We head off the main river into smaller canals and it’s really gorgeous and peaceful with coconut palms and massive bamboo shoots shading the river. Most everyone we pass waves or smiles, or maybe smirking cause I’m alone in probably the slowest moving boat on the river... I’m not even mad about it. I’m soaking it up in NAM baby.

Last city on the agenda before I head to Cambodia is Chau Doc. Pretty non-descript but I went up Sam ‘Mountain’ which is actually a large hill where there are sweeping views of the river and surrounding rice paddies. Twas cool to see the landscape a bit from above. I decided to walk down and quickly realized these are the friendliest people I’ve met yet. Pretty much every other person says hello, especially the children.

This group of schoolboys was playing this hacky sack type game but with what kind of looks like a giant badminton birdie; same idea anyway with a weighted end and a feather. They called me over so at first I just took pictures but decided to jump in and show them my skillz. I sucked. They laughed. Alot. Good times.

So that brings us to sitting on a boat on the way to Phnom Penh, 8 hrs into the trip. There are 3 other Canadians from Halifax & Ottawa on the boat and this 21-yr old German girl that lives my dream life and has been travelling around Australia & SE Asia for the last YEAR AND A HALF. Fricken unreal. Had some good chats with the Canadians about Halloween, big chocolate bars, that rolling log driver song (look it up on YouTube, you’ll remember it I promise), and Road to Avonlea. All the Canadians out there that watched it - you know you did - throw ya hands up. Ah the bad Canadian television that binds.

So that’s what up in a nutshell. For those that were concerned (Dad I’m lookin at you), I’m still alive. This place is unbelievable and every so often I have to pinch myself and remember where I am. Only like 7 more weeks and I realized I have like absolutely NO time to see even half of what I wanna see but it’s cool. Return trips are for sure already in order. I gotta go switch boats so the novel ends… See you in a few days.

See pics on the Fbook. You know my name.

I've Been MIA (I got more records than the KGB too)

Who am I? Where am I? What in fresh heck is goin on?

I don't know why we all look like Skeletor.
Somebody get the camera people on that.

Well, today I made cookies in a cake pan.

I also accidentally almost-burnt them. You know, when they're walkin the thin line between edible and construction site material but you were so looking forward to delectable cookie flavour in your mouth that you have to eat the whole batch before they get cold and rock-friggin-hard. I know you know what I'm talkin about. Run-on sentences. Don't judge. We've alllll done it.

I mention this because, well, I don't really have anything really newsworthy goin on, but this corner of the Interwebs has been sadly neglected for a while now so I had to come up with somethin. Not my best material but then, as I was indulging in rapidly-hardening cookie #6, I realized the whole cookie debacle is something of a really bad metaphor for my life in Peg City at le moment.

It's like this: I moved outta residence like a month ago, so I'm moving up in the world and now live in a real house with a real kitchen. Hallelujah. That means I have the opportunity to make cookies and other delicious baked goods again. Unfortunately my apartment is a little ghetto and the aesthetics leave a lil somethin' somethin' to be desired. I'm not complaining though and I don't blame my apartment; it's just that it's been in the care of a constant stream of rando Team Canada athletes since like, 1970. Consequently, the furniture and decor reflect this.

No big deal though, I live for free-fifty so I live it and love it like it's my own (this is the part of the story where I make my point). Basically, I was thinkin, this apartment - and city for that matter - has everything I need but just don't expect it to be pretty. So it's like, sure you can make cookies. Sure. But you're gonna have to do 'em up in an old cake pan, in a rusty mustard-yellow oven that, like a sprained ankle, ain't nothin to play with. Otherwise it'll burn your cookies right up cause it's apparently a lot hotter than its dusty knobs indicate. Peg city also has what you need but it's not gonna be pretty either and when it gets pretty (via a thick blanket of fluffy white snow to cover itself up) it's too cold, and your eyeballs freeze off, and you can't even see to enjoy the winter wonderland. Knawnsayin? Sad truth.

That was the best I could do... My future in writing is bleak.

Well, let's rundown whatup then. First off, I met MC Hammer. He played a show here and suffice it to say, the man still has it (notice how I held back on Can't Touch This and 2 Legit 2 Quit references).

Proof. The Man & the Legend.

Secondly, we qualified for world's! Bladow. The team went to Mexico a few weeks ago and killed it dead at the last qualifier so say hello to world championships next summer in Japan. Should be good.

Stayin with that theme, I leave for Puerto Rico and our last tournament of la saison in t-minus 7 days. Back to island living, except we play 6 games in 6 days sans break so people's bodies are about to be hurtin. Bad. We don't play Brazil this time but the US and Cuba are there so we have our work cut out.

After that though, is when the party starts. Maybe. Depending on some stuff to be determined this week, I have to come back to Winnipeg for full-time training in either November or January. That means the two sweetest words in the English language: time.off. BABY. 2 words? 3 words? Whatever. I do love my team and coach, but time off is THE BUSINESS. I can't help it... I can't wait.

If training starts in November, then I'm goin to Europa for a few weeks to get money my old club still owes me and visit good people - Desma I'm lookin' at you. If it's January, a 2-month world tour is in order. I'm thinkin' like India or Thailand or Africa or something. Somewhere new fo' sho.

So here's where the 3 of you that are still reading come in... Who wants to come? See, I'm cool with doing the Asia/Africa thing on the solo - but then sometimes I picture dark alleys and spiders and I think maybe that's a bad call - not to mention my mom will fear for my life for 2 straight months. In the interest of Helen's health, I'm all, OK sweet I'll find a buddy to do it up with, preferably a dude that can beat on crazies and fight tigers if we get lost in the jungle and stuff.

Unfortunately, I pinched myself and remembered I'm going in November or somewhere 'round thurr and who isn't working/schooling/doing-something-important during that time of year? The unemployed or homeless and they have no dimes to drop on world travel.

What. I'm just saying.

So for the rest of you out there that somehow have that time open, step up to the plate. I know you're creepin', with your headlights off, reading this blog thinkin you're sly... But come outta the woodwork and let's go to Asia. Or wherever that's not Europe. I'm open to suggestions and I'm not even a little bit kidding. Comment away.

Mailbox in the club? Check.
Just think of the postcards we could send.