It's Bohemian

As I wander the world aimlessly, I find myself constantly in wander of my surroundings. I love how different things are around this little globe. Some things are modern, friendly, and beautiful, some are definitely NOT. I spend lots of time contemplating the world around me, but I haven't been doing much to share with those who are less fortunate, SO I am starting to share my tales, adventures, and lessons to you… In hopes of a better understanding, of the science of human zoology.

It was the middle of August when I found myself in a murky, old market in Cambodia. It was the rainy season so my once pedicured feet were ankle deep in mud and whatever other juices flow on the ground of a dirty fish & fruit market. I am by far a foot taller than the people surrounding me…They all stare at me. So many brown, worn eyes, with happy wrinkles covering their faces. I'm not sure if it's my size, my build, my blonde hair, or my blue eyes that makes them all stare and laugh as I bump my head into a metal awing holding up a blue roof-like tarp, protecting the little people from getting rained on. I don't mind it so much, I know there is alway someone looking out for the Foreigner who is clueless as to how things are ran around here. It wasn't until I rubbed my elbow up against the severed head of a plump pink pig that I decided I needed to get out of that stinky market as fast as I could. With bags full of fresh Mangosteen and Japanese Pears (for $1.00) I proceeded to sit at a little chair on the corner of the road and eat noodles from a family of girls who didn't speak my language. I pointed at what I wanted and ate happily with my chopsticks while the young girls checked out my foot tattoos. It wasn't until sitting down to a steaming hot bowl of delicious broth did I realize how my day had went….

I woke up by the beach with the rain gleefully taping on the tin roof, proceeded to do some bed yoga before actually rolling out and washing my face. Once I downed my Muesli with fruit and yogurt, and said a polite 'no' to legless beggars and bracelet-making children, I read my book (The Girl Who Played with Fire by Stieg Larsson), packed by bag, and went to wait for my bus to the next Cambodian town. I didn't know much about this town…just that I liked its' name: Kampot. Apparently they were a big producer of pepper?…I didn't really find it too bizarre that I had to wait about and hour past the time the bus was supposed to pick me up, but I knew i'd come sooner or later. Time doesn't mean much out here. I always appreciate the indefiniteness of it all. While waiting I repetitively get beat by a 7 year old Khmer girl in a game I had just taught her. I have to admit - I was pretty distracted by her CUTE little cousin with his big  white pouffy dipper and orange mohawk… Finally the 7 year old girl who just conquered me in Rummy, asked to see my  bus ticket, went in spoke a few words to the tour company, then all the sudden a mini-van appears!

I say my goodbyes and hopped into a van with some fellow travelers. 4 Spanish speaking older backpackers, 3 Frenchies, and a proper Englishman. All of our bags were thrown behind the back seat and a rope was used to lassoe everyones belongings in. We rode for hours wondering whose stuff was going to pop out and be lost forever. The bus trip was supposed to be and hour and a half long, but we kept making stops. At each of the stop we would pick up more people, pack their stuff in the back as well, and continue along our path… We picked up more and more people, wandering how they and their stuff are going to fit in the van, and are on our way again….It was a  cluttered stinky van jam packed full of people. There were about 10 Cambodians squeezed in the front seat of the van, boxes of smelly fish and dead ducks, and somehow we were all smiling and singing Karaoke?…That trip was a trip.

After leaving the slow pace of Laos, it was hard for us to adjust to life in the cluttered, chaotic city of Kuala Lumpur. We've been there before and know its ways, but still felt bombarded with smells, smog, and noise. We quickly made a visit to the 3rd Indian Embassy in attempts to get a visa because that was our next chosen destination. 3-5 days it was supposed to take to receive that pretty new visa on our American Passports. That is 3-5 days too many to be waiting around in KL, so we decided to flee to Melaka, a cute, calm little city just 2 hours South.

The decision was made solely because of the delicious, unique food that Melaka possesses. The cultures are diverse and the food portrays it. The Malays make specialities such as cendol which can best be described as a snow cone in a bowl with such oddities as beans, corn, dark syrup, and green, wiggly jelly things. It sounds bizarre, but it is actually pretty tasty. The locals go crazy over this stuff. There is a dish called popiah which is almost like a Mexican burrito but with rice paper and sauerkraut-looking stuff that is very sweet. I really enjoyed the Baba Laksa, which 8 months ago I never would have been able to eat because of its spice. It is a noodle dish drenched in a red coconut milk with lots of lemon grass and spices. You can get it with shrimp, veggies, fish balls, or dumplings. It is quite delicious!

The Indians living in Melaka have 'restorans'  all over town and are famous for their banana leaf meals. Only 4 Ringott, which equates to $1.30 USD, you can get 3 mixed specialities consisting of a runny spinach-corn mixture, a thick vegetable currie, and a lovely pinapple-cucmber blend to numb the spicy burning sensation. They will plop 'free-flow' rice on your banana leave and dump as much Vegetable Dahl or Chicken Curry as you would like. We often would add a plate of lamb to the mix as well. Our right hands would be stained bright orange from all the spices upon completion of our meal. I would often get a hot Tea Tarik, a milky sweet Indian Chai and James would always get a Teh O Ais, which is really sweet iced tea. Sometimes we would top the meal off with a sugary Roti Pisang, Banana Roti, which is always made to perfection. We were frequent customers at a popular place named Pak Putra, which was known for their Naan that was so soft and warm you could sleep on it for a pillow. It was spectacular, and after observing these Indian guys perfect their art of Naan-making I have even greater respect for every bite! I would usually get Garlic Naan to dip in a dish called Butter Chicken, but to me it tasted like a wonderfully thick tomato basil soup with thick chunks of buttery chicken. Sometimes I would order double cheese and garlic Naan which was stuffed with so much cheese I just wanted to hug the Naan…It was that delicious! I can't forget to mention the Tandori Chicken that was cooked in huge clay pots and so soft it would practically melt in your mouth. Definitely 2 thumbs up! This place was a little more pricy than the rest costing on average…$6 USD, but we would certainly walk away with a full belly and be stuffed the rest of the night.

Every visit to an Indian Restoran, I would have to build up the courage to give the Indian head wobble back to the nice guys who so patiently take my complex order, but in the end I always get scared and chicken out!… Tilting your head from side to side as if saying no, actually means the opposite. At first I would be afraid they would think I was insulting them if I did it wrong, or mocking them while having a huge smile on my face, but quite the contrary. They seem to be really please that you've made an attempt to adopt in some of their culture. I asked many Indian friends I have around town, and everyone said it was perfectly fine for me to do, in fact they would be elated to see a pretty blue-eyed girl, give them the wobble back. That head wiggling is the most expressive of of Indian gestures meaning Yes- the equivalent of a forward nod. But it also has the connotations of, I agree with you or Yes, I would like that. There is a universal message attached to that gesture, but it just didn't feel natural for me to do, so after the swift little Indian guys toke my order, I would curse myself for vocally saying Yes instead of giving them the head wobble. I'll work up the nerve one day…but for now let me continue raving about the food!…

As for the Chinese, I've ate so much American chinese food in my life that I am not as excited to eat these dishes than normal…until I discovered a couple dishes. Most notably, a dish called Char Siew, which translated means Charcoaled Pork. It is a fatty pork cooked in long strips in a mouthwatering Honey BBQ glaze. The meat will be placed over rice and a sweet sauce will be drizzled over that. It is beyond scrumptious!! My first visit to Melaka I was staying at a guesthouse across the street from this hawker center, so naturally I would wander across the road and eat myself silly. This second trip to Melaka, we stayed on the other side of town, and I never once minded the blistering heat beating down on my skin, as I took the walk across town in order to get a plate of Char Siew. I literally ate there over 30 times. I got to be such good friends with the owners of the stand that at one point a member of their family asked James and I  if we'd like to road trip to China with them because they had 2 extra seats in their car…And we actually might come back at the time in 2011 when they are planning on making the long haul from Malaysia, up through Thailand, to Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Beijing?!…

I also discovered another food stand at that same hawker center that served one of the most appetizing noodle soup I've yet to slurp in SE Asia. Anyone who knows me, knows about my noodle soup infatuation. I just can get enough of the stuff! I love everything from the spirited broth to the chopsticks and little spoons. I eat every bite with appreciation and often give my compliments to the overworked chefs. This particular soup is relatively popular among the Chinese crowd, and they always seemed to be amazed that a foreigner discovered one of their sacred dishes. This noodle soup stand has a unique situation. They open at about 8pm and close around 2 or 3am. It seems that the Chinese Malays eat well into the night and have no problem staying up into the early morning to enjoy their food. This noodle soup stand is run by a family of Chinese. The uncle arrives in early evening to prepare the stand, getting the broth boiling, the packs and packs of homemade noodles set up, and repeatedly cleaning the stainless steal counter tops.is hair is always slicked back and he often combs it Danny Zucko style with the comb in his back pocket. The character that makes this precious soup stand so interesting is the old mother. She looks like one of the most mean, angry, intimidating woman I have ever seen in my life. Frankly, she frightens the daylight out of me and all the others around her. She strikes fear into children, and I have never once seen her smile. Her slave, I mean son, takes the orders and delivers the hot steamy bowls of soup to the customers. He is a happy guy in his mid-30s that doesn't really seem to be bothered when his mother yells at him loudly in front of all the happily fed foodies. The uncle runs around collecting empty bowls and cleaning up, and the father- husband of the mean lady- is the actual soup master. I have never seen or heard him speak a single word. He stands there making bowls of soup until the last customer is fed, and never shows a hint of exhalation the whole time his infuriated wife barks order to him. I only deal with the son, who knows my order before I tell him. He brings me the homemade noodle soup and I pay him. I want no dealing with his mother. I can't even make eye contact with her directly because she strikes such a horror in me and others around me. It doesn't take away from their business though, people put up with it because the soup is so tasty. I can't help but feel sad for the sun who has probably been working at the noodle stand since his youth, and will probably stand hunch-backed over the steaming bubbling broth, late into his 70s, just like his father.

Another chinese delicacy is the Dim Sum breakfasts next door to our guesthouse. They open at sun rise and close at 11am. We usually start with a nice hot pot of chinese tea, point at numerous mystery dishes, and finish up with some sweet buns. We never really know what we order, because they are all small dishes of steamed or fried savory dumplings containing various fillings. At one point I ate a fish and seaweed steamed dumpling along with boiled chicken foot…after that I wasn't able to eat a Dim sum breakfast for weeks!… We've gotten to be good friends with the people that run the shop, and even the demanding black and white cat that cleans up any leftover food.

Perhaps your asking how we came to discover all this good food?…Well  the 3-5 days we were waiting for our India visa turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I ended up getting my visa, but not James…we deduced this was because he was smuggled out of Iran as a young child. In the mean time, my bank account got hacked. Peculiar charges started showing up from .com companies, that I certainly didn't purchase from, so Bank of America shut down my account and told me they would FedEx a new card over asap! I had some American money stashed away in case of a situation like this, so we managed to get by. After 11 days I called to check in on my missing card situation, and they couldn't find the precise address of the guesthouse I was staying at, so they sent my card back to America…. stranded again… this time with less money… To make an extremely long and frustrating story shorter- After talking to over 20 different associates, they still didn't resolved my banking issues. I finally got a card that didn't work, then an incorrect pin number… 3 months later and my problems are finally starting to be resolved. With all the Bank of America frustration

We made some unforgettable friends while in Melaka. Namely Howard and Sam, the guys who run Ringo's Foyer Guesthouse. Howard is happy-go-lucky chinese guys who is absolutely larger than life. His character kept me laughing everyday! He is absolutely perfect for his job and is one of the most interesting, accommodating person I have ever met in my life. He speaks little bits of every language from interacting with so many foreigners. He has the most interesting background, and such cheerful mannerisms. Months later…we still catch ourselves talking in 'Howard Slang.' Sam is a local Malay who just finished his studies at his university. He is always chipper, cheerful, and in good spirits. Most nights I would hop on a mountain bike and ride for miles on end with him around Melaka and the outskirts, helping him train for his bike marathon. He would take me to eat at all his favorite places around town, and recommend the best dishes. Howard is a Chinese-Malay so he is able to practice his choice of religion freely, but Sam however can not. He was born a Malay which automatically make him a Muslim. He cannot drink, smoke, have piercings, get tattoos, have sex before marriage, and all the other bad things that normal people do without thinking twice. If he gets caught by the religious police for breaking any of their strict rules, then he will go to jail, and be penalized with heavy fines. He so badly wants to act out of rebellion, but fears the law and his mother. I talked him into letting me cut his nice school boy hair into a mohawk….He was felt so elated by his badass haircut, that he actually wore his earrings out in public! I thought I did him a good deed by liberating him a bit, but on the day when he invited me to join him in attending a traditional Malay wedding celebration where his mother would also be attending, I felt like maybe by cutting his hair into a badass style, I would only get him into trouble. He wore his skull cap, so his mother didn't even notice…and I actually didn't even get to attend the wedding because the car broke down on the way and we were stuck for hours in the blistering heat on the side of the road. I don't know how all the Malaysian women wear their nice outfits that cover every inch of their body…I thought I was going to overheat in the garments I borrowed from a local girlfriend.

After traveling the world for months on end, I was glad to feel like I had a home. I wasn't a nomad wandering the globe for that month and a half…I felt like a local with an address. I knew all the places to go, how to get there, how much to pay, and had friends all over town. Howard, Sam, and a couple other travelers who found comfort in Ringo's Foyer and didn't want to leave, were a temporary family that I came to value. I would look forward to hearing their plans for the day, how their night went last night, and all the other wacky situations that arise out of a culturally diverse group of humans.

I busied myself by getting involved in the Arts scene by gallery hopping, spray painting graffiti on the rooftop, and joining local photographers and makeup artists in numerous photo-shoots. They were enamored by my blonde hair, long, straight nose, and the curve of my lips…So unlike their features. They would boost my ego by bragging to others about how they were working with a 'professional American model.' They would stare at me with huge almond eyes when I would walk out of my changing room in full costume and make-up while towering over them in my stilettos. It was a fun way to pass time and help out in marketing efforts of the local and their businesses. I also spent hours on end building websites for thriving companies. I got in the habit of waking up at noon, working till 4am, not working out, and eating whatever I wanted-whenever I wanted. A habit that I broke all too soon after departing Melaka and traveling onwards.

For the 45 days I spent in Melaka, majority of my evenings were spent on the rooftop to watch the sunset. It soothed me to feel the contentment that the color blends calm me with. The call to prayer rings out from numerous mosques all over the city all at once, announcing it is time for Muslims to make one's devotions for the day. "Allah hu Akbar, Allah hu Akbar"….

You hear this cacophony 5 times a day, and although I'm not religious- it kind of acts as an alarm clock for me to take a time out to myself and do a bit of meditation. Inward thinking. My minds' discourse of considered thoughts on any intense subject. Most often positive reflections on my life, and happiness for the path I have chose to take. Through my sporadic meditations I have come to realize that nothing in my life is as important as my family. Nothing matters as much as them. I am unattached to everything, don't have responsibilities towards anything, or feelings of obligations to anything…except for my blood. And honestly, I couldn't think of a better bunch of people to feel so strongly for. If it takes leaving your known universe to understand, in clarity, a sense of bond, love, and solidarity- then I urge everyone to withdraw from their comfort zones. I often go through a system of rumination- I take 5 deep breaths, picturing 5 times different faces of the same person in different situations. First mother, then my father, then sister, then uncle, grandparents, aunts, cousins, and friends so close I could call them family. It takes quite awhile for this process to complete. Most of the time I loose focus because of external factors….I'm still working to control this, but more often than not, I get sidetracked due to jolly giggles that are produced from the images my minds' eye produces of my father. Whenever I think of him and all his expressions and manners, my chain of musing always get interrupted by eye watering happiness. I never have a problem getting through the 5 deep breaths for my mom. It is always pretty easy to picture her smiling face, alluring demeanor, tenacious will, and radiant disposition. I can't help but regard her as my divine creator. The person who made my beautiful life possible. Once my mindful meditations get past the first 2 in my hierarchy, the rest are less difficult. In each breath I try to channel positive energy to my loved ones, and hope my good karma keeps theirs good as well… I'm aware my unconventional ideals and social habits seem quite bohemian, but it works for me. It keeps me traveling along the right path….

I think I might be missing my family a bit more than usual?!… Sorry to go off on that rant- If you understand that about me- I might make sense to you a bit more?…Anyways, back to my last night in Melaka…Howard, Sam and the rest of the guesthouse dwellers planned a nice going away party for us. Included was more BBQ than anyone could possibly eat, and too many bottles of Lychee Vodka we get from a local bootlegger for an unbelievable rate. Needless to say we were up all night with full bellies and belligerent stories. At one point in the night the black and white cat that frequents the Dim Sum place joined us! I kind of took him under my wing (against Howard's will) and his meowing became an all too frequent sound around the guesthouse…To make a long animal story short- This cat ended up making me cry for hours. I was SO sad to be leaving these individuals I had grown to love, and I cried in the arms of Howard with the black streams of my makeup staining my face. Yes, I was utterly inebriated (you have to understand how little I indulge in booze since leaving America) my tolerance was low and I was feeling vulnerable to emotional attacks. I just thought maybe it would happen while saying our final 'goodbyes' instead of being induced by a hardheaded cat. The next morning I woke up with a slitting headache, a rowdy stomach, and red, puffy eyes. We decided to stay another day…

Melaka was yet another unexpected delight! I would move there any day in a heartbeat. I miss Howard and Sam and think of them so often. I know I will see them again, I just wish I could put them in my pocket and carry them around with me everywhere I go. They are some of the greatest people we have met on our journey around the globe…and we've met some pretty fascinating people...

We witnessed many spectacular things in Laos. Here is a list of certain peculiarities I found interesting about the country:

Lao Lao is a liquor made locally from sticky rice. It is at least 50% alcohol by volume. It is also the drink of choice for most locals because it is so cheap. By comparison, just one Lao Beer (a tourist favorite) costs more than a day's wage for Lao people working minimum wage…less than $1/day!

Most businesses close at 11:30 because there is a government curfew. Technically ALL people should be at wherever they are legally registered to be staying by midnight. Businesses have to close by 11:30pm to allow enough time for employees and guests to be home before curfew. These laws are loosely enforced for us tourists, however, business owners can be fines up to $2,000, incarcerated and lose their business license if they don't abide.

In Thailand we were called Farangs but in Laos we were called Falangs. It is not a derogatory term, but quite the contrary… It literally means only 'French' and the Lao use it to refer to all Caucasians. It carries a respect and endearment that oftentimes may not be deserved considering the history of foreign influence.

It is uncommon in South East Asia to tip. Some places recommend that you tip staff about 5% or at least leave your small change if you are happy with their service. Tips are usually shared by the entire staff every month and businesses usually match (double) the tips you give as a bonus. The average income in Laos is still less than $1,000 a year…So by tipping you help the locals use that extra income to pay for education and basic healthcare that their families otherwise could not afford.

In Laos, all food is served in the middle of the table and every dish is shared by everyone as it is prepared. It is considered extremely rude to pull an entire order in front of oneself. The concept of possession is completely foreign to the Laos people. To illustrate this point, the word for 'mine' and 'yours' is the same- and their isn't even a word for an individual person. Laos is perhaps best described as 'communalist.'

If tourist live like locals, they can live of $1 per day! Stay with 10 people in a bamboo hut with no water or electricity, grow your own food, rarely eat meat, drink only water and Lao Lao, bathe and do laundry in the river, and whatever you do DON'T get sick. The only things made in Laos are basic farm crops, handicrafts, textiles, wood products, cement, electricity, cigarettes, beer and soft drinks. Absolutely everything else must be imported. You are in a place so remote that is was not accessible by road until late 1990's. Most area businesses operate at laughably small profits margins to stay competitive. Lao people have to pay the same prices for products as in Thailand - plus the increased cost due to resellers, taxes and shipping - and then have to sell it for far less than the retail prices in Thailand. Anything 'modern' costs 2 to 10 times more than in a developing country. Local inflation averages 15%. Most significantly, property values are spiraling out of control - normal rent had increased 1,500% in the last 3 years!

Motorbikes are illegal to rent in Northern Laos, not because of the Tuk-Tuk mafia, but because there are too many accidents involving tourists and woefully inadequate healthcare. Injuries or death wouldn't be good publicity for tourism.

Monks are mysterious to us 'falangs.' Foreigners always wonder about their lives, and if your lucky enough you can talk with one to find out, but most tourists keep their distance and instead snap pictures of the monks like they are monkeys in a zoo... Monks are always on the move, many young monks with their orange robes, brown shoulder slings, and black umbrellas…but where are they all going?!… We found out that they go to the same places that anyone would go - School, the temple, and to visit family and friends. They wonder why us tourists take so many pictures of them and what we are looking for if you already have everything we need?

FOOD FOR THOUGHT~

Cultivating a non-discriminating mind provides the serenity for practitioners to let go of afflictions, wandering thoughts, and attachments. It is difficult for us to let go due to the injustices we feel we have suffered and the grudges we thus hold. However, feeling this way only puts us at more of a disadvantage because then we suffer the consequences of our grudges. Inequalities exist in this world because of our discriminating minds. 

September 5th, 2010 was one of the most amazing days of my life. It changed the way I look at the world. Let me explain…

After a quick month in Cambodia, I found myself on a bus crossing the border into Laos. I was proud of my neat, new visa stamp in my passport, but slightly worried that my passport is becoming too full, too fast?! Alas, I arrived at the 4,000 islands alongside the mighty Mekong River in Don Khon, Laos.

We spent a few days lazily hanging in hammocks, reading books, playing cards, eating local food, playing in the rain, and adventure biking all over the islands. I often contemplated if the size of the locals smiles was directly correlated to the laid-back, relaxed style of life here?…We spent a couple more days admiring the graceful flow of the Mekong, watching long, thin boats float rapidly downstream, and making friends with the local children between their schooling hours. Life was simple here as we lived in our hut for 5 dollars a day, but we decided our time was limited in Laos, before heading to India, and reluctantly needed to move to our next destination- Pakse, Laos.  

September 5th, 2010 became an unexpected delight. I awoke at about 9:30, went in search of a tailor to customize the Laos skirt I bought at a market, scavenged for breakfast (and ended up finding a DELICIOUS noodle stand that served excellent Iced Coffee with Sweet Milk) and rented a motorcycle for the day. I have had plenty of experience driving motorbikes around South East Asia, but they have all been Automatics. Today, I decided to put on my big girl panties and ride a manual. It felt different, but I easily adapted. My best friend, James, and I rode off into the wind in search of Plateaus, waterfalls, and new adventures. It wasn't too hot and the rainy season was nice to us, deciding to only sprinkle instead of drenching us in a downpour. The ride was smooth and free…until I crashed the motorcycle!! I thought I had a flat tire so turned to look behind me as I was going about about 30 kilometers per hour down a steep, gravely hill. I didn't realize how fast I was hauling down these backroads until the foot break did something funky, and my handle bars started convulsing uncontrollably and for a moment I regained control, but before I knew what happened I was thrown/jumped off my bike, barrel-rolling forward on the 'pavement,' the bike dropped and skidded to a halt, James looked pretty shaken up near the ditch, with his foot stuck under the bike- but not to worry!…There was no bloodshed or broken bones. We walked away with minor scratches…although that bike had seen better days. Lots of bent metal. I was just  impressed that I managed to keep both my flip flops on and protect my electronics and mangoes that were in my bag!… A little perturbed, we cautiously hopped back on the bike and arrived at the Waterfall 5 minutes later.

The location of this waterfall was made into a kind of tourist resort. It was a very natural setting, using the earths materials to provide the snazzy ambience. You could take elephant rides to visit local villages, or cross rickety old bamboo bridges to get a get a panoramic view of the Tad Champee Waterfall. It was really refreshing, but after 'suffering' through what could have been serious trauma, we decided we needed a nice relaxing drink and a game of cards. Muay Thai Fighting was playing on a rather clear screen, and I sipped my Rose Herb tea while whooping James in cards. I am always in awe of the beating the martial artists take. Satisfied with the last bloody bout, we decided to head back to that bright red bike and again assess the damages.

In renting motorcycles, we are responsible for any destruction. I wasn't about to pay quadruple the price, so I knew I had to find a man in a shack on the side of the road to help me fix it! After several failed attempts, I gave up. The communication barrier with the pleasant Laos locals wasn't the problem, it was the bent handle bar that needed replacing. We carried along our merry way, with James sitting quietly on the back of the bike, worried that we would wipe out again. After an unsettling ride back to the main roads, we decided we needed to pull over for a stretch.  

The sun started falling as we stumbled upon a lovely little bridge, which was never finished being built. It was overlooking a serene pond, with a trickling stream, and lots of green around us. There was misty mountain tops in the distance and a bright sun illuminating the sky behind that. We sat and continued to reflect on how bad our crash could have been, meanwhile adoring the environment around us. A little old lady and her husband pulled their motorbikes over beside ours and proceeded to walk down near the water. It looked like she was taking off her clothes, and I didn't want to be a voyeur, but I also wasn't quite ready to leave yet. She ended up getting in the water up to her waist in a t-shirt and rolled up pants, while searching for prawn. Her husband silently observing, smoking cigarettes.

Then I heard James tell me, "Don't freak out….but…there's a gigantic insect on you!"… With my mind racing, I slowly glanced down only to see a dragon fly! It was fairly large and had flown into me while I was driving down the road. It was probably stuck there for 30 minutes before it was noticed. I pulled it off and laid it on the railing next to us. While appraising it's impressive wing structure, and it's pulsating body, we got up close and personal with this neat little creature and took plenty of photographs and video footage. It wasn't until about 15 minutes of solid examination that we realized it's head was ripped off and hanging by a thread. I felt so horrible for this animal, and although I don't fully believe in reincarnation, I put it out of its' misery hoping it would come back as something stronger.

This 'spot' we had chosen to chill at was such a beautiful setting, with the purest of nature around. It made me feel so alive and healthy. We decided to carry on with our journey, but I really wanted to keep exploring the remote back roads we were on and continue following the good omens. It was a great decision, because what I saw next was what opened my eyes.

Riding free down the road gives one such a sense of freedom- Off to my left was ginormous green mountains covered in trees, providing crispy fresh air, wisps of happy clouds flowing around them, and the sun setting between the magnificent hills providing the sky around it with warm, comfortable colors. On my right was clusters of villages of simply constructed dwellings raised high on stilts in case of floods. The shirtless brown men would play football (American soccer), while the kids would play in streams or amuse themselves with toys made of sticks. The women would be cleaning dishes, washing clothes in buckets of river water, or chopping away at bloody meat with a shiny butchers knife in hand while chatting amongst themselves. The chickens were busy pecking at the ground and crowing obnoxiously, while the flea bitten dogs would either sit in the middle of the road, play fight with other dogs, rummage for food, or bark at the few passerby's. You'd see wild pigs living along side the locals, and would often have to stop our bike to wait for the burly bulls to take their time crossing the road.

This was life made simple out here.

No high-rises to block the sun, no electricity to distract you from duties, and no smoggy haze from carbon emissions… This city girl was in great appreciation of the naturally  harmonious elements providing such a relaxed atmosphere, but the thing that made it undeniably exceptional, was every smile on the Laoatians faces. Never in my life have I felt such a sincere, warm, 'thank you for experiencing this' feeling from a group of people. I exchanged smiles with everyone in my path and was amazed at how these locals…poor as could be, performing back-breaking farming every day…were so happy to see me. The young girls would look at me in  amazement- The little boys would hope they have a new friend to play with, women would look at me and wonder my story, and the men…well…who knows what they were thinking?…This random journey into the unknown provided me with such an appreciative and enlightened heart. It made me really FEEL the dynamic of family. It made me FEEL the amiable locals hearts. It made me FEEL simplicity. And it made me ADMIRE life for what it is. It was genuinely one of the most illuminating moments in my life. I rode away with the highest of sprirts.

To be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to coming to Laos. After exploring the rest of South East Asia (with the exception of Indonesia & the Phillipines) I though I had covered all I need to see…How could things be that much different there?…Every fellow traveller I ran into before coming to Laos seemed to be at a loss for words about how exactly to describe the place, but all said how beautiful it was and that they enjoyed it. This is a common thing to hear from everyone who has gone abroad and out of their comfort zone…"This place was AMAZING" or "Wow, that place was so beautiful." You can read about it, hear about it, and watch it on TV or in movies, but unless you have been to that place- you will never understand the magnitude of it…You simply have to see for yourself to understand.

We continued on our way home, hoping to get back to the town of Pakse before it got too dark, but I was still in search of gear to fix the damn broken motorcycle. I stopped at a long row of shacks where there seemed to be lots of activity. I found a piece that was needed and bought the part, that would have been $100 bucks back in the US, for $2!!… Now, I just needed someone to install it and some of the minor damage to the bike would be gone. So, we continued wandering the dirt roads until one of the shacks caught my eye. It was 5 drunken Vietnamese men blaring karaoke, singing, drinking, and laughing hysterically. I slowed down while passing to observe their belligerence, and before I knew it- was holding the mike in my hand trying to think of a song they might know. Although no one had any idea what was being said by the other party, we had a blast laughing at the party popper who drank too much and passed out early, attempting to sing along to the foreign syllables flashing across the screen, and venturing to guess what was being said by the men in this filthy old shack. The only thing I really understood was, "I-am-Vietnam" being said over and over by the main man in a drunken stupor.

Now, normally I would pounce on the opportunity to fully experience a locals' culture, but when they offered me some of what they were drinking, (which I was hoping they would!) I took a look at the homemade bottle of…rice whiskey?… and saw chunks of what I think was charcoal at the bottom and opted out. Anything that kills that many brain cells is bound to be a good time, but I had a mission to get my bike fixed. We shared a couple more laughs, and I was able to make out, "forget-me-not" as I was leaving. I tried to assure these debauched Vietnamese that I never would forget them, and continued on my way.

After another failed attempt, we drove back into town deciding to deal with this motorbike mess in the morning. James was mostly silent as we road along- I'm pretty sure he was still shaken by the anguish of our first crash- but that little wipe out didn't phase me in the slightest. I learned to never break on a hill of loose gravel, and that my acrobatic recovery skills were pretty impressive. The vanilla sky above me left me speechless…and somewhat hungry (the clouds had evolved to closely resemble cotton candy- my fav!)

We had developed quite a hunger throughout our venturesome day, so we went to a highly acclaimed Indian Restaurant where we quickly saw an Austrian friend we had met in previous cities. We quickly swapped stories and ordered half of the menu (for $7) When a stranger behind us asked to join our table. Of course we obliged and really enjoyed his company throughout the duration of our meal. His name was Felix and he was German. He was a true traveler, had been all over the world, and his stories certainly reflected this. My favorite story he told was how he was looking for work in Australia, called a number posted on a board next to a grocery store, and all the sudden he found himself picking pearls out of clams of on the coast of a private island bought by a wealthy wallstreet broker. The island was infested by alligators so as they worked, people with guns would keep an eye out for any gator coming too close. They lived and worked on this island for months, killing their meals, hunting wild pig with nothing but knifes, hoping the small airplane would come and deliver goods to live off. He had been injured and sick many times thought his travels and his body reflected this. He showed us his battle scars which accompanied enthralling stories. We talked about how some travelers aren't as respectful to people and their cultures as they should be. He was so passionate about this subject. I tried my hardest not to giggle at his thick german accent as he was complaining about ill-mannered backpackers and how they have changed for the worse throughout the years…He was an unforgettable character. I wish I could have recorded his stories and put them on youtube. Yall would have got a real kick out of him!!

We ended the day with a much needed shower, sterilized our petty wounds, and went to bed early. Since I enjoyed the sunset outside of town so much, I really wanted to enjoy sunrise outside of town as well! After what took some skilled debating, James reluctantly decided  to join me the next morning, and we rode off with half a tank of gas, and a calm morning breeze tickling our skin. I'm sure James was still holding on for dear life as I rapidly drove down dirt roads paying more attention to the colors glistening in front of the sun and the saturated clouds flowing around the shadowed plateaus.

We found a temple that was in the process of being built and decided to go explore up the hundreds of muscle burning steps leading to the top. We crossed paths with Buddhist Monks in their bright orange robes and freshly shaven heads wildly swigging weedwackers along the way. Finally at the top we were granted a view of the entire city, the Mekong River flowing through it, and rural villages outside of town. We sat up here for quite some time admiring our surroundings. Visually. Mentally. Spiritually. It was quite the spectacular view and another eye-opening excursion.

We finally decided to give in with this whole motorcycle situation. I think none of the locals wanted to fix the bike because they knew these 2 foreigners messed up another bike, and were trying to take the cheap way out. We just decided to pay the fine to the rental company. We messed up their bike and knew we had to suffer the consequences…Turns out the motorbike only cost us 150,000 Kip ($20) in damages…I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!!!… That would have never flied back home in America?!…I would have paid much much more for the experiences and memory that were made in those short hours...

I'm currently on a bus from Kratie (pronounced Kray-chi) to Laos… Listening to all the foreign accents on the bus makes me giggle…People are so different in the way they express things. I love to think no matter where your location may be around the world, you can always laugh together. I think that's the most universal form of a bond. I enjoy watching the environment around me and interpreting what I think is going on. People have so many ways of doing things and I always try to understand why different cultures makes people tick differently. I love watching people interact. It's a great form of entertainment, especially in foreign lands.

As I look out the window, I see tiny thatch roofs made of bamboo, and straw. Most of them atop stilts to keep what little things they possess, safe from the wet season floods. Most people simply dress in long pants and long sleeve shirts. They toss their trash outside their front windows, and hang out on wooden platforms while watching the activity pass by. Little naked children run around splattered in mud, but happy as clams. So much green floods the countryside it makes you feel alive and healthy. You'll see elders hunched over with big hat brims and wrinkly, ancient hands plucking away at the rice fields. Just a seconds glance would tell you they have worked hard their whole lives, and are ready to conquer the rest of it. Their children, who have their own children, are riding on a rickety old wagon that barely functions while being pulled by a tired old pony in hopes of making it to town to get some money for the productions of their hard labor. I have much respect for these families. They have endured many hardships here in Cambodia but they still continue to work out in the scorching hot sun everyday, enabling them to have enough to eat the rest of the week.

Today I saw a solar panel laying around on a sidewalk in the 'city' and it made me so happy to see that dingy restaurant not having to pay the recent 200% increase on electricity. Cambodia is quickly gaining recognition among foreigners on the traveling circuit and it's easy to see why!…just look at the Cambodia Picture Album on my Facebook page

Traveling all over the world often makes me daydream about finally having a place to call home, with the luxuries that will once again become part of my daily life. Pressing a button to have a hot steaming cup of coffee, or being able to wrap myself in a fluffy blanket on my couch admiring the artistic options of decor that surround me. Being close to family instead of being on the opposite side of the globe. One day I will have that again and completely appreciate every aspect of how I molded my life around me….But for now- I can't shake this travel bug.

I have got a through taste of South East Asia (with the exception of Indonesia & the Philippines, which I plan to visit in due time) and absolutely loved every moment of it. Sure I haven't cooked a meal for myself in half a year, and sure I often have to battle bugs in guesthouse rooms, and sure I have to scrub my feet free of dirt every night, and yes, I have to constantly  monitor how much American dollars I am spending, but right now- I don't think I would change the way I am living one bit?!… I contemplate future options, and the problem is I have every option. I pretty much can do whatever I want to do. I like that. That's how it always should be for me. I know I don't want to be tied down to a job I have to go to, but I'd really like to have a base to set up camp for awhile…maybe get a pet and have a regular yoga class to go to. I'd like to have friends that I get to hang out with longer then the frequent swapping of traveling stories with fellow backpackers. Anyways, one option i've seriously been contemplating is possibly opening a guesthouse on the beaches of Thailand. I'll call it 'Happy Buddha Guesthouse'. It will have a nice Zen Garden, hammocks all around, and a nice beach bum vibe…I just know that I don't want to go back to America yet, and I really fell hard in love with Thailand- That's where my heart got left behind. I'd like to produce work that isn't online, so naturally I'll make this place a paradise for relaxation- Jess Style. Ha. I think it'd fun a fun challenge. Lots of kinks to work out like Visas situations and Land ownership and what-not, but if there's a will there's a way right? This place will be a lovely haven that I can eventually get all my family and friends to come live at!…just another one of my crazy ideas I suppose, but it will probably happen one day?!...

(*Sidenote*)…I've really come to enjoy meeting fellow Farangs - You get to know about life wherever it is they call home, you get to learn about life wherever it is they are coming from, and if your lucky enough, you get to enjoy their company for a couple of days before continuing along to the next destination. And the same goes for the locals your lucky enough to get close to - They are the real inside source of information. They help to understand where you are, why it is like that, and how it came to be that way. I always try to make a point to express my gratitude for allowing me to be around, from the tuk-tuk driver to the old, chirpy ladies making my meals.

While I write this the bus driver is casually honking massive cows off the gravel road we are hauling down. The DVD, that is blaring on the flip screen at the front of the bus, consists of modern music videos, Karaoke Style, from Korean Pop sensations that are the craze in Asia these days. It's kinda hard to keep focus, you can probably tell from my writing…so I think this is a good place to stop for today. We're about to arrive at the border crossing.

I know you probably find this random stream of consciousness, that I call a blog, somewhat compelling….You should really plan a holiday of your own sometime soon. Just go somewhere you've wanted to, get out of your comfort zone, and absorb every moment of it. The hardest part is leaving…but you will be so glad you did! You will without a doubt grow from it, and will always have and cherish the memories you've created!…Your always welcome to join me wherever I may be if you need a starting point!?...

Anyways, Acun Tran, Thank you, Cambodia for allowing me to smile so much, for allowing me to inquire, and allowing me to feel free. 

    We took a train into Singapore, and arrived slightly confused as to how to get a taxi to either Chinatown or Little India. The confusion came as a surprise because for the first time in three months, we were in a first world, modern country. Singapore, unlike it's neighboring Southeast Asia tourist havens, is not a cheap tourist destination. Despite it's size and location or possibly because of it - Singapore is a tiny island on the southern tip of a peninsula below Malaysia - and because of it's tremendous wealth, is not a tourist haven. It's a very modern country, and like most modern countries, it caters to it's citizens and not an influx of foreign currency during tourist season.

    While in Thailand, Vietnam, and Malaysia, we were constantly asked if not hassled as to where we were going. Tuk took drivers, taxi drivers, motor bike taxi drivers, all standing at the door of every bus or the pier of every boat we rode on, trying to offer us their services. Not so in Singapore. Much like America, or anywhere in the Western world, you hail a taxi if you want one; you seek out a service if you need it. The other countries we had traveled through so far - and these are second and third world countries which have a much lower standard and cost of living than Singapore - would bring every conceivable service to you as you walked across the street, weather you needed it or not. You are a savior to poverty. You are money. You are, in many cases, a large part of the local economy.

    Singapore, on the other hand, has oil. And being as small as it is, not a ton of room for you. And because of the thriving economy, Singapore feels like one big amusement park, with shopping malls taking up half of the landscape. Singapore is not crowded, so to speak, but it is certainly bustling.

    We finally found a taxi at the train station, a very clean and fairly new vehicle, and gasped at the price to get us there. By appearance of things, you got the impression that bargaining was not par out here, quite a departure from the past several months. We arrived at our chosen guesthouse near Little India and checked in. InCrowd, highly recommended by Lonely Planet, turned out to be a good choice. It was the most expensive place we stayed, paying a little over $10 a person for a dorm room with shared shower, but it was run exceptionally. When I daydream about opening a guesthouse, it would be like this one in many ways. Yes, I have come to daydreaming about opening a guesthouse; one with a cafe and a large selection of books you could read; one with a hammock heaven perched high in the trees surrounding it, or above the cafe somehow; one with buckets so you could wash your own clothes and lines to dry them; one with a proper fan placed in the right center of the room to provide the most air to all corners rather than just one corner of the bed; one with wifi, even if only at the cafe to encourage a little more business with the purchase of coffee. In the end, a person needs purpose, but more so, I think I am the kind of person who always need to be creating. And yes, I'm a dreamer….but I'm not the only one.

    The shower at InCrowd was the best I had since leaving America. It was better than the one I had at home. It was so good, I had to blog about it. And a western toilet? With toilet paper provided? And a spray hose? It was almost too much. We were at a backpackers guesthouse, and it felt like luxury. Free breakfast allowed you to walk into the kitchen area - across from the reception desk - and pick grab two boiled eggs, two toast with butter and orange marmalade, and coffee or tea - clean your own dishes when you're done. Four computers mounted on the wall offered free internet, there was free wifi, a sofa sitting area, and a beanbag sitting area that belonged in a retro-chic lounge. Warning to anyone who wants to stay there - pay advance for as many nights as you want to stay, because they are always so booked in advance that unless you're extremely lucky, you will have to get booted for someone who has made a reservation.

    The bus system on Singapore is simple to understand, and the metro system is ultra-clean and ultra-modern. More so than the ones I have experienced in America. What's not so simple, is life in Singapore. They call Singapore a fine city (country), and it is in more than one sense of the word. One day we took a metro after a long day of exploring and were confronted by one of the operators while still in the tunnel, on our way out. She scolded us for carrying a (empty) plastic cup of Jasmin Green Iced Tea from McDonald's onto the metro. I think she took mercy when she was confronted by our confusion and shock, and told us to hurry out because we were on camera, and someone would be coming soon to fine us. That's right - carrying food or drink onto the metro will cost you S$500. Public protest: S$1000. I'm not sure what the fine is for spitting gum onto a sidewalk, nor do I know the fine for possessing gum at all. Chewing gum is illegal. You won't find it in the stores at all, and bringing it into the country may be dealt with a less harsh form of prosecution but not dissimilar to being caught smuggling drugs.

    But Singapore is magical, with art and exhibits and performances everywhere and seemingly all the time. We were fortunate to have been there on a weekend when the student association at the University of Singapore was putting on a multistage outdoor performing arts exhibition. We didn't know what to expect, and we offered a tremendous variety, moving us from one stage to another as one performance ended and another began, winding us through the lawn outside of campus. Laser lights, smoke machines, satellites, fire dancers, traditional clothes, lyrical performers and rap artists, spray paint artists and suspension performers…taking from the past and their ideas of the future, expressive art mixed with interpretation and perspective about their culture and their place in the world.

    One day we walked passed Little India, toward the center of town. We came across a Hindu Temple, something we had not yet encountered in our travels through predominantly Buddhist (and in the case of Malaysia, Muslim) countries. Singapore is not predominantly Hindu by any means; it was just a happenstance of the path we chose. After making our way around the temple and admiring the statues of divinities, we walked out and into a street market. We have grown accustomed to them; smells of fish and meat following you as you walk through fruit stands and stands selling shirts and clothes, past the stall selling fried insects, onto another several stalls selling squids and dried fish. This market had the same look and feel, minus the smell. We were not in the mood to shop so we walked briskly through the market and took a left at the next corner, only to step into another world - glass buildings, the names of French and Italian fashion designers labeling every doorway, with people moving under flickering lights or neon displays. For the next hour, we walked, and never were we abandoned by the company of a mall along our way. I may have seen larger malls in my life, but never have I seen so many, one after the other, some attached underground, others not, simply mall after mall after mall, and high end malls at that. This was not a place for the shoestring backpacker. This was a place  for the rich. I was reading a book called Some Girls at the time (it's not really a guy book for those looking for recommendations), and the American girl who went to Brunei to become a harem girl for the prince was taken on shopping sprees and their destination was always Singapore.

    In Singapore, we took it all in. We enjoyed our hot shower, we were delighted by our flushable toilets, we lounged in air-conditioning. We went to a movie, we ate at Carl's Junior and played cards at Starbucks. We enjoyed a pizza from none other than California Pizza Kitchen, which may not have the best pizza in the world, but wait…we're still in Southeast Asia? Singapore felt like what Dubai should feel like.

    I was in the bus leaving Singapore, returning to Malaysia, when I realized that I had forgotten my iPhone at the guesthouse. I had plugged it in that morning, and left to plugged in the dorm room at The Prince of Wales Guesthouse. It was about an hour to Malaysia, and mostly because we had to go through immigration for both countries. I arrived at the bus station in Malaysia, obtained a bunch of coins for the pay phone, and made the call to the number on the business card for the guesthouse. The sound quality was terrible, and the entire time I talked I felt I was contracting leprosy from the handset. No time to worry about that; I had to communicate that I had left my phone in hopes that they would find it, and I had to do it while putting coin after coin into the phone just to stay connected. The display showed how much money I had left and was counting down quickly, in leaps of a quarter at a time, so fast that I could barely keep up. There were a couple times I had to stop talking so I could concentrate on getting money into the slot. The man at the reception desk found it, and I informed him that I would get on a bus and come right back. An hour later we had checked into a hotel near the border, and I left my bag, grabbed my book (still Some Girls), went back to the bus station, and made my way across the border, again.

    While in line waiting for the bus, an elderly Chinese couple struck up a conversation with me. They happen to be Singaporean and not Chinese, but that is their ancestry. They, mainly the husband, would ask me if I'd been to this country or that country, and mid-answer would laugh and wave his hands as he started telling me a story about his travels there long ago. He had traveled a lot, and now lived in Singapore. They had asked (several times) where I was headed, and each time would nod and wave while telling me what stop I should get off at and which bus I should take next. I had the impression that this bus would drop me off where I had caught the one in the morning to Malaysia, but that was not the case. They offered to get off and help me catch the next bus, but I assured them I could find it - it was in Little India after all. They told me that they were getting off at the next stop, and as they got off they pointed to those getting on and smiled to say "follow them." The inside of the bus quickly changed; it was only after the bus left again that I realized the bus was filled with very fair skinned locals, and that they mostly appeared to have a Chinese ancestry. This was the bus from Malaysia over the boarder into Singapore. The elderly couple - who I was told were 76 and 72 years old - had gone over in the morning to do some shopping and then come back. I didn't find out what they had gone for, but was told that it was illegal to bring many things over the border, including cigarettes. The lady smoked and had told me that cigarettes cost about ten times more in Singapore than they do just across the border in Malaysia, but that it was against the law to bring any over. The bus had been filled with one culture of Singapore locals and was now filled with a group with Indian ancestry; mainly very dark skinned, smiling and talking in Hindi or Urdu (I have to be honest that I do not yet know the difference, but will be in India for two months soon and plan on losing this ignorance). Follow them, they had said.

    Several stops later and nearly everyone gets up. I look outside and we are one block away from the Little India Metro Station. I get up as well and make my way to the guesthouse to retrieve my iPhone. An hour later, and I am back in Malaysia - three border crossings, three hours.

    I feel like I have said very little about Singapore, and in fact I have. I was there for a total of five days, and feel as if I experienced so much in so little time and yet only saw the surface. Imagine being tossed into a waterfall - within the second that you drop from top to bottom, you experience such intensity, but you know nothing of the river before or what lies ahead. But in those short days, I was able to say (repeatedly) that I could live in Singapore. It's charming; it's rich in flavor; it has an eye on the future but so much identity with the past; it's diverse and modern and expressive. It's Singapore.

I always enjoy entering new countries. I feel so many concurrent emotions and an overwhelming rush of sensations…I get satisfaction out of every stamp pounded into my Passport, every attempt in figuring out the money exchange, and in finding the cheapest way out of the airport while the less prepared tourists are paying triple what I am. I look at my life everyday and feel happy to be where I am, and fortunate to do what I am doing. Sure it is somewhat of an extended vacation, but I work sometimes. I find odd ways to make money, like building websites for businesses cheaper than anyone in America would dare…I don't need a whole lot of money to survive out here, so for me a little bit goes along way…Not to mention it gives me some sort of temporary purpose.

I enjoy being homeless. Essentially that's what I am… Sure I have my families houses all over America- where I know I am always welcome, and I could always rent a place of my own, but I am perfectly content having nothing but a backpack. I'm really not responsible for anything and i'd like to keep it that way for awhile. Since leaving the states, I have lived in 46 different guesthouses all over South East Asia, and felt completely at home in each one.

Currently, I am sitting under a bamboo hut at Tranquility Guesthouse on Serendipity Beach in Sihanoukville, Cambodia. I'm about 25 ft. from the waterfront and tucked away so the little Cambodian children can't hustle me for Bracelets and fruit. These kids are clever and smarter than anyone gives them credit for. There's boats scattered all along the coast, men fishing off the dock, and kids jumping in the water right beside them. There's colorful umbrellas lining the beaches and tourists mixed with new Cambodian friends sunbathing in reclining beach chairs. While in the shade you can feel a nice breeze grace your skin, but in the direct sun, you will instantly feel perspiration start to develop. The sky is clear but on the brink of the coast you can see a storm-a-brewing. The weather is perfect right now, but I wouldn't mind a good downpour. The sound of the rain hitting the bamboo thatch, and the lazy feel of the day seems like a good way to cure my Absinthe hangover.

When I first arrived in Cambodia, I had an instant prejudice towards this country. (I'm embarrassed to admit this because I usually pride myself in my impartial ways). Cambodia at first glance seemed very aggressive. I wasn't too receptive of this having came off a month in laid-back Thailand. Without having a chance to observe the land outside of the airport, the Tuk-Tuk and Taxi drivers bombard you to take your destination for $1. We found a Guesthouse next door to a place our Lonely Planet book had listed, and set out into the night in search of food. Phnom Penh is the countries capitol and it is an overwhelming place. Certainly a bustling city with endless energy. It took me quite some time to feel comfortable here. I was always overly aware of my surroundings, so much it almost drove me into a type of paranoia. With so many people moving about and motorbikes zooming around, I thought it was inevitable that my purse was going to get stolen, so I was…and still am…very aware at all times.

We only stayed one night in Phnom Penh before hopping on a bus to Siem Riep, the location of the Angkor Wat Temples. For $20 you can see as much of this place as you possibly can in a day, but most people splurge and buy a 3 day pass to be sure to fully explore the sights of the 8th Wonder of the World. Our first stop was by FAR my favorite. The Temples of Bayon. Millions upon millions of blocks of stones placed on top of each other and carved into perfect faces of a Buddhist King. These structures were built in the 12th century, and I found it SO amazing that after all the war and destruction that the country has faced over the past 900 years this wondrous architecture still survived. I'm going to save the rest of Angkor Wat for another blog…possibly a blog by James to describe the complete magnificence of this place.

Back to life in Cambodia… I discovered the reason why I look into the eyes of Cambodians and instantly distrust them. It is a man by the name of Pol Pot. Everyone knows how rough Cambodian life has been over the years, struggling with war after war, but it was after a civil war in 1975 when this character Pol Pot took over with his Khmer Rouge cronies.

He was well educated in Paris, where he started to develop radical Marxist yeas that later metamorphosed into extreme Maoism. Under his rule, Cambodia became a slave labor camp, and he basically had the idea of 'cleansing' the country in type of holocaust manner. His goal was apparently to 'restart civilization' in Year Zero by killing all the intellectuals, people that wore glasses, or speakers of another language. 1.7 Million people died under his rule. This mass extinction probably would have continued for quite some time if Vietnam hadn't invaded making Pol Pot flee into the jungle, and his Khmer Rouge government collapsed with his disappearance. Rumor had it he was poisoned in 1998.

It's just crazy to me that as modern as the world is, we still have people like Pol Pot with his 'god complex' who less than 35 years ago started slaughtering his own people. I actually went to a place called 'The Killing Fields' where hundreds of mass graves were dug and pillars of human skulls rested. We saw the devastation of the aftermath with our own eyes. Children were killed by the Khmer Rouge by bashing their sculls on trees or bludgeoning them to death because they didn't want to waste their ammunition….Sorry for the vulgarity- I almost didn't write this because it was a little too much, but I think people should know how things went down here...

I understand that for the Cambodians to make a comeback after the hellish abyss they have been sucked into, they are a strong people. You can see the lingering sadness in the older generations eyes. But on the surface Cambodia seems to be a nation of smiling, happy people. Sure there is patchwork of light and dark, but that's the way it is everywhere I suppose?

Tourism is slowly starting to bring money into a country that needs and deserves it. After all of my travels so far, if I were to invest into a business, this Beach would be the place…It's like Thailand 15 years ago. Give it time and it will slowly become a new tourist haven. 

Malaysia has proven to be one of the most alluring journeys so far. I entered the great country with an open mind, and left with a fine appreciation for the people, the land, the culture, and especially the food! I travelled for a little over a month and really got to dive into the diversity that is Malaysia. On a daily basis we would chat with locals who warmly welcomed us to their country, "Welcome to Malaysia!" they would say with a sincere smile across their face as in saying we know this place has so much to offer and are sure you will enjoy it. They thanked us for being there, for discovering, for co-existing. I think that is the most suitable word I would use to describe Malaysia. CO-EXIST. The people with backgrounds from India, China, Thailand, Japan, Indonesia, and anywhere else in the region you could imagine, all lived crammed together in small cities and made it work so well. Walking down the street you would see Chinese Temples, hear the call to prayer from the mosque across the street, then glance out and see Hindu shrines. It was humbling  to see how tolerant everyone was of each others beliefs and cultures. And the food definitely represented the eclectic mix. I could rave about the food for paragraphs and still not do it justice. I have eaten some really spectacular meals in my life, but nothing compares to the delicious Malay food we. I got pretty scrawny the month I spend in Thailand, but the Malaysians definitely did a good job fattening me up a bit! The Teh Tarki was a nice warm Indian tea that was so sweet and always hit the spot. We would indulge in Chinese buns filled with anything from BBQ Pork to a Sweet Kaya cream. The Malays sure like their spices and most of the dishes were a vibrant color red. Throughout the years many countries have tried to take over Malaysia. The influences of these groups have left colorful cultures, delicious cuisines, and inspiring arts.

I have so many stories to tell of Malaysia, I'm not quite sure where to start?!…

The Perhentian islands easily ranked on the top of my list. You could swim 100 feet out and still see the bottom of the ocean through the crystal clear waters. The snorkeling was so bright, with every spectrum of the rainbow on display in the underwater utopias. My favorite were the Rainbow Sherbert fish swimming around. Their real names were called Parot Fish (google it!) They were so colorful and plump. They would eat alge off the rocks and it was so funny to hear their scraping mouths eating a nice fresh dinner. Little Nemo fish were abundant. They would guard their sea anemones that would flow free of disturbances. After following a cute little Angel fish around observing it for a couple minutes, I noticed the group that I was snorkeling with (consisting of my best friend James, and 2 sweet Brits we'd be traveling with) huddled up motioning for me to get over there quickly! We were being circled by 4 Black tip sharks! As I was struggling to fight my way into the center of the crowd (so I wouldn't be the first to get eaten) I realized that the sharks really didn't care about us being there. They just came up, checked us out, and proceeded on their way. But MAN!… was my heart racing! It was such a cool thing to see. You tend to feel so free floating along monitoring the world under the sea, but when all the sudden your heartbeat starts doing overtime, you tend to feel a little helpless. Needless to say I made it back the coast pretty quickly. Mainly because I wanted to discuss what had just happened with the others, my legs were getting tired from kicking, and I had enough of the sun beaming down on my backside. Did I mention how AMAZING the coral reefs were?! Mind-blowing! Snorkeling around the island was easily one of my favorite past times.

Then there was the giant Lizard in my bed! This was by far the most horrifying thing to happen to me so far. The Monitor Lizards on the Perhentian islands were HUGE. I'm talking like the size of a Kimodo Dragon. One day, a 3 ft baby found it's way through the mosquito net so thoughtfully tucked under the mattress, and perched itself like a little princess on top of my white, silk sleeping bag. The manager of the bungalows chased it out with a big stick, claiming it was a small gecko. "Baby" he kept calling it. If that was a baby I surely didn't want to see his parents!…Needless to say I turned into quite the headcase that night. Every little sound i heard I was convinced it was the lizard trying to get back in for some revenge. I was seriously loosing my mind!…I couldn't sleep, I was just replaying the image of it's scaly, slimy skin on my bed (even though we got fresh sheets) it's slippery tounge slithering in and out of it's mouth, it's strong, powerful tail flipping around. I was going insane!…I contemplated sleeping in the sand on the beach, but as peaceful as that would be with the moonlight and the sound of waves, I just couldn't shake that lizard out of my imagination. I thought it would come to get me out there. There are thousands on that island. One of them was going to get me… Yeah. I gained back my sanity at some point, and passed out of pure exhaustion. Fighting to stay awake just got too hard. So I woke up the next morning (lizard-free) packed my bag and headed to D'Lagoon, a private beach where Monitor Lizards couldn't get into my bed! I was a little bummed I didn't go to D'Lagoon sooner because this was a nice little hidden paradise! I'd spend my mornings playing with a baby monkey, my afternoons, reading in a hammock under a nice shady palm tree, and my evenings either playing cards with crazy old locals, or join the Malay boys in a competitive game of volleyball. I knew I shouldn't have picked up a game with them- I torn my rotator cuff in my left shoulder while getting too extreme with the jumps snowboarding this past winter, and haven't splurged on surgery to fix it yet. So I knew I would complain about it hurting for weeks after the game, but just couldn't refuse. They were all impressed with my play.

The Perhentian Islands had no roads, so you had to hike through jungles to get anywhere. There were no ATMS, so if you ran out of Ringott, you would just have to borrow from a fellow backpacker until cash became accessible off the island. The sunsets were amazing, the mornings were serene, and the atmosphere was calming. I LOVED this place, but was happy to adventure to our next destination.

While in Kuala Terranganu- The world cup was at its finest! Malays and backpackers would flock to the night markets to watch the 'football' matches on the super big screen. Hundreds of people would swarm around ordering food and drinks, engaging in conversations with friends, getting wild when someone scored a goal, and just laughing and carrying on. I will always relate soccer with this wonderfully ancient fishing town that struck it rich in oil.

There were so many other fun places! Caves in Ipoh, Tea Plantations in Cameron Highlands, (see last blog) gastronomic excellencies in Melaka, trekking high up in the jungle on canopy walks in 130 Million year old rainforest in Taman Negara, and the futuristic architecture of Kuala Lumpur…Malaysia was easily one of the most enjoyable places to travel if you like to eat and chat with locals that are just as curious about you, as you are of them.

While I was in Kuala Lumpur, I realized I only had 10 days left before I had to catch a flight back to Bangkok. On a whim, I booked a train ticket to Singapore to spend a few days there, then head into Indonesia! I have been really wanting to visit Bali, Sumatra, Java, and Ubud, but with such a short time and 17,000 Islands to visit, I thought I might leave that for another adventure. Plus I've heard from fellow backpackers that Pirates are pretty common if I was to take a boat to the country- I know I would be the first person to get snatched up and held for ransom… So I think I made a wise decision?!…

But Singapore was unreal! So architecturally advanced. Super modern. Super clean. Chewing gum is illegal, and they WILL fine you for it! The government holds a strong hand over this wealthy country. Any food you desire is available, any shopping you want to do can be done at any of the thousands of retail malls, and the art scene is BOOMING! I visited many galleries and enjoyed an all night art festival that Singapore Management University put on. THere was everything from Bizarre Dance interpretations, to grafiti artists, to a Burmese Circus! This night, in my opinion, was SPECTACULAR!!! I love the fine arts! Photography, Sculptures, Music…anything that freely expresses creativity! LOVED IT. (I have so much awe-inspiring video footage from that night, so at the rate I've been producing films…Expect it in like 3 months?…hehe) It was so easy to get lost in the mad swirl of skyscrapers. This place was first-class affluent, and extremely high-tech. Everything about this city seemed so tailored and after living in 2nd & 3rd world countries- I totally welcomed that! Squat toilets were hard to come by in this modern land. The only thing I didn't like (besides how expensive it was) was the incident where I almost got fined $500 for carrying an empty McDonalds cup in the Subway system!…I'm glad I talked my way outta that one!…but that Jasmine Green tea, which is common for McD's restaurants out here, sure was worth it!

And alas, I am back in Thailand. I feel so comfortable here. My heart belongs here. I have fallen in love with the people, the culture, the style, and the simple way of life, much more than any destination so far. It's my 3rd time here, and I don't feel like a Farang anymore. I know the ins and outs of these familiar cities. I feel so relaxed when I'm here. Bangkok is cluttered and chaotic, but I can appreciate this place so much more after leaving it…I just can't stay here too long- The pollution, corruption, and the ping pong shows really rub me the wrong way. Tomorrow I start Island hopping again, which proves to be my favorite hobby. I love the laid back approach to everything, the fresh breeze gracing my face, the wind in my hair while riding motorbikes around the islands, and the hunt for Sticky Rice with Fresh Mangos, Sweet Coconut Soup, and the cheapest most delectable Pad Thai this country has to offer. On the downside, since I'm so close to the equator, a day in the sun ages me a month- I've convinced myself- but it is well worth it! I just need to buy some breathable clothes to cover my body and invest in some overpriced sunscreen….Ah the life of a traveler. What did I do to deserve this wonderful lifestyle?…Oh yeah, drop everything and just GO! 

This may be one of my more edgy and controversial entries, so I apologise to the faint at heart. Nature is the strongest force in the world, as we are reminded of this fact when earthquakes or floods or tonados humble us. These things also unite us. Well, this topic is about how nature, even in it's simplest form, both humbles and unites us, the backpackers around the world.

There are few things that are consistent when you travel the way we have. You can expect to always need to lower your expectations, and I think you're safe if that's your compass for most anything. Eating, sleeping, traveling from one spot to the next - just expect to get the wrong food, possibly have hairs all over your sheets, and have the tire of your bus explode three times with a brake malfunction somewhere in there. Expect to go looking for turtles and never seeing them. But also expect to wake up after a night of sweat and mosquitoes to the most amazing sunrises. Expect not to see turtles but have sharks swim beneath you and make you forget you were looking for turtles int he first place. Expect to eat the most amazing food - whatever it's called - that you never ordered but will continue to look for every day until you get the next wrong and amazing food. Also expect to pay too much because you just don't know what you're up against, yet pay half what you would "back home." Not much else is consistent, except this: you will invariably discuss your bowel movements and toilet experiences with everyone you meet. Yes, everyone. It's like a handshake. Sometimes it's the icebreaker. You lean over at a bar, give your "playa" grin, sink, and ask "so…squat or western?" Sometimes you go for it and just come out with "I've gone twice today already." We were once strolling through the jungles and had just spotted some wild boar, and one of our travel buddies says (with no prior conversation or prompt) "I haven't gone for five days…"

It's almost a universal greeting the way English is the universal language out here. We all have issues, and at some point, usually during a meal, the topic comes up. The reasons why are pretty practical. You order some food - it could be as simple as the safe bet cheeseburger - and something about the amount of mayo, chili sauce, ketchup, and barbecue sauce that's streaming down your hand along with a friends somewhat concerned question "is this meat cooked all the way? or is it red because of all the spices?" makes you or someone else state the obvious that "you'll find out in the morning." And that's if you even got what ow ordered…imagine not having any idea what it is but knowing you're not going to send it back when there are starving people everywhere around you. Forget those "there are starving people in Africa" statements. You just turn around while you're eating out here.

The term "pooh attack" does not refer to a cute, talking bear giving a beat-down to Tigger or Piglet. It refers to the need to find a toilet and to find one fast! You don't even care if it's squat or western, and usually give the rest in your party about three seconds to respond to "does anyone have toilet paper?" Stories of "man, I once got on this van and immediately got scared I wouldn't make it another five minutes let alone the four hours to Phuket" (true story) and "this one time I was at the Full Moon Party and 'it' struck, and I knocked on a random bungalow and pleaded with two naked people to use their toilet but then couldn't find how to flush it so I ran out before they saw what a mess I made" or, and this is common: "shoot…talking about this somehow gave me a pooh attack" tend to come up over every meal. You may think this is funny. You may think this is disgusting. But this is reality in Southeast Asia, you take heed.

As you talk about the way this demon creeps up suddenly at the wrong time, you eventually make your way to discussing different kinds of toilets. A lot of these stories will never be understood by you - you simply have to come and experience the pooh attack for yourself - but there are some lessons I can relay.

I am now more and more often confronted with having to make a choice. One that you may not think as monumental, but important nonetheless. Western? or hole? I didn't have this choice when I made my first video in Taipei immediately after going to the toilet in the airport, where I only had the "hole in the ground" option. Having been a self-professed germaphobe, I thought this experience humorous and somewhat ironic. Now, I look at those Western toilets with amusement - you? I'm not choosing you. I'm going for the hole. Yes my friends, no more worrying about what might be on that seat, and no more worrying about….hmm…too much information? No more worrying about clogging it, not to mention the…again TMI.

Do I confess to much? Possibly. But remember, this is all table talk out here, and politics isn't any cleaner a topic. At least this one is something we can all relate to, and not one anyone is going to war over.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a scratching noise scraping across the tin roof of our bungalow. I was terrified immediately, unsure what it was but having seen the huge five foot lizards on the island. I didn't like it being so close, even with the separation of metal between us, and sat staring into pitch black darkness hoping that the lizard or snake or rat wouldn't find it's way into the room.

When I first woke, the noise was at the far end of the room. I heard the tapping-then-scraping claws along the metal as it slide forward a step then stopped; then moved again five seconds later, the movement prolonging the second, then stopped, only to move again…the pattern was fairly consistent, though off beat, making it even more terrorizing. The noise was making its way closer and closer, and I was certain I would be face to face with a Monitor Lizard within minutes, me trapped within my mosquito net while it charged at me from out of the darkness.

The noise eventually stopped and I fell back to sleep.

In the morning, what remained of my chocolate cream Oreo's from the night before were gone. Whatever had been sliding across our rooftop was actually in our room, sliding across the shelf that ran the length of my bed. It was within inches of me, but in the morning heat the thought of it was more curious than terrifying.

The sun is pretty intense on the Perhentian Islands. We stayed on the smaller of the two, having been told that the larger island has the more expensive resorts. Fifty Ringgit seems a little steep for the standard of room we received, but the island is among the most beautiful I have ever seen. It's primitive, with no roads on the island and only a path (that often is no more than a small clearing of brush) winding through the dense forest from one beach to another. I ate breakfast, which was wonderful but more pricy than the three or four Ringgit meals we sought out on the mainland, then walked into the South China Sea, literally. The water is crystal clear, and as you walk out twenty feet, the water reaching your hips, you see the soft sandy floor under your feet. Keep walking…thirty feet…forty feet…you eventually have to swim, but even then when the water is at least 15 feet deep, you see the sea floor clearly, with a colorful coral garden beneath as hundreds of fish swim around you and often to you in curiosity.

I cam out of the water and bathed in the run, then decided to take a nap. It was mid-afternoon; I figured an hour out of the sun and then I might go swim again, maybe snorkel this time in hopes of seeing some sharks or turtles. The scraping noise came again…

I jumped to a sitting position immediately and started looking around as quickly as I could, ready to fight off whatever was in our bungalow. Having daylight to assist me this time, I saw it across the room, inside the mosquito net of the other bed, propped up on a pillow, it's head tilted in my direction, it's tongue slithering in and out of it's closed mouth. A three foot lizard stood staring at me, both of us motionless. I imagine that the expression on my face was the polar opposite of the expressionless face it bore, and it didn't even occur to me that it was scared of me. That's something you talk about when you talk about things that can harm you. Sharks, snakes, spiders - they're more scared of you than you are of them. Well, try to remember that when you have a dinosaur in your bed!

I had no idea what to do. I sat for a moment, contemplating how I would get out without being attacked, knowing I needed to make the first move rather than having to react to it lunging at me. Yup, I thought about being the attacker and throwing the first punch. Way to aggravate a situation James! The alternative was an image of me running and hopping around the room like a dancing leprechaun, jumping between beds, hoping on one foot with the other raised as high as my face, arms flailing as  it chased me around a small bungalow, knowing I would find the door eventually and go scurrying across the sand and into the water as far as I could swim, only to realize I was now surrounded by sharks. Options...

I got out from under the mosquito net and charged at it, knowing I had another net between us as protection. The giant lizard leaped back, flying into the wall behind it in a loud thud, and disappeared behind the bed. That thus was loud! which meant that this freaking' thing is pure muscle, and a heavy scaly mass of muscle at that. I wasn't going to wait around to see how this dual would end. I was going to run for it.

I went to tell the people who ran the bungalow, and they kept asking "gecko?" Don't you guys see my face? Don't you see how excited I am about the monster that I witnessed on my bed? No, NOT a gecko! This little stain on my shorts was not a result of n insurance company mascot. This was T-Rex's second cousin twice removed coming bcd from extinction to eat us all! I wanted to assure them. This is a bloody monster! Now would you please go and risk your life to get it out while I stand safely in the distance, close enough to watch with all the other tourists?

One of the guys grabs a huge stick with a metal piece attached to the end (no idea what it's really used for but it could cause some serious damage) and leads the way back to our bungalow. At this point, four or five other groups from neighboring bungalows are watching. I unlock the door (a tiny padlock that you could break by looking at it the wrong way) and scan the room for the beast as I step back to make room for the dinosaur hunter. There it is, about two feet in front of us, trapped inside the mosquito net. It thrashed violently, trying to escape. It was panicking, which is not a good thing, because no one is going to act rationally when cornered. I don't know the extent of a lizards rationality in a normal situation, but I wasn't going to be in the way of it's inch long razor sharp claws in this situation. In an instant the lizard finds it's way out from under the net; I jump back screaming (manly profanities to show I'm not really scared) and once my eyes gain focus again, I see the lizard about five feet up a coconut tree outside of out bungalow. The man starts slapping the trunk with his stick, moving around the tree to follow the lizard who simply doesn't want to get a beat down. He makes contact with the lizard at last, who drops onto our neighbors bungalow roof in a loud, hollow thud, slides down and slams to the floor and bolts. Someone said they saw it running into the forest, most likely to tell it's parents what we had done to it. I was certain I was going to see my Oreo's again tonight on the inside of some giant lizard.

What? Only a baby? Yes, this ginormous lizard was only a baby, the giggling bungalow manager kept assuring us as if it would make us feel better about the situation. He didn't realize that all it meant was that larger ones existed, but we already knew that. We had seen them blocking the path to one of the bathrooms the day before.

The islands of Malaysia are exciting places. I find Malaysia to be more beautiful than Thailand. It is not as developed for tourism, but the landscape itself can't be beat. Having had a close encounter with a dinosaur, we decided we should go snorkeling in search of sharks, and that's just what we did.

There were four of us, swimming out cautiously at first, then forgetting about the sharks, certain that we were not going to see them. You tend to forget about things when you're out in the ocean looking at an underwater world that's both mysterious and beautiful. So many colors - so much movement. Color in yellow and pink and blue and orange and white create a terrain with as many dimensions as colors. Large shells with what looks like tie-died muscles clamp onto rocks; sea anemones sway beneath the water - you dive down and come close - clone fish start coming out as if to guard their territory, swimming right up to your mask to show you who owns the block. Rainbow colors fish chomp audibly on algea; zebra striped fish start following you around; you turn and there is a long barracuda looking fish with sap teeth staring at you (harmless, I'm sure, but you're in the middle of an unknown world). I swam deeper, hoping to see a shark. I turned, and I saw it, maybe fifteen feet from me, and the moment I spotted it, it turned to face me. My heart skipped a beat.I'll tell that story next...