Bangkok--->Koh Chang

Recollections of this morning...The V.I.P. bus (ooooooooh fancyyyy) took longer than expected, and was tardy from the very start. A motorbike had picked me up and dropped me off at the roundabout, where 10 or so other passengers were already impatiently waiting. Normally, it's a 6 hour journey from a Bangkok to Trat Province. Today was clearly my lucky day because the voyage ended up taking 8 hours. The female bus attendant apologized to me about good ol' Bangkok traffic.

When we arrived at Centerpoint Ferry Pier, every single passenger ferociously hurled themselves off the bus, and shoved in front of everyone else to grab their luggage, and more shoving with a little added elbowing ensued, as we approached the ferry ticket counter. Were we not all boarding the same large ferry, headed for the same island? What is the difference in a matter of minutes? Sheesh! Somehow, common courtesy and manners were conveniently misplaced when the crowd had been festering on a coach for too long?!

 The shuttle from the coach to the pier was packed to the brim, with not even half a vacant seat. As such, I took made my own standing spot next to one of the rails, and dangled precariously, half inside, and half outside of the vehicle, with my arm wrapped tightly around the rail. A young boy, of about 9 or 10 years of age, with a shaggy, grown out rice bowl haircut, and large, black rimmed spectacles, stood up and gave me his seat. His mother beamed at my protests and chuckled with an ever-so-slight, charming French drawl to her English, "He's just trying to be a gentleman." I think she had a lot to do with that. Well done, mom. 

 In the interim, my backpack had mysteriously tumbled off the shuttle, unbeknownst to me. I exited the shuttle and stared at the empty cargo area of the shuttle with a look of puzzled bewilderment. The girl from the ticket counter was riding towards the pier on her motorbike, and from afar, I could see my white pack hanging from her left arm. My hero! Again!

The sunset in Bailan Bay

My toenail varnish is brighter than the sunset

Enjoying a Leo

Friday, June 28, 2013 Part 2 of The Myanmar Blue And White LocalBusChronicles, Pathein via Ngwe Saung

Our guesthouse receptionist flagged down some motorbike taxis for us, one for me, and one for my friend Chris. Zigzagging is an understatement for the amount of rapid movement necessary to maneuver through the town toward  Pathein bus station.  It had been raining on and off, and the streets were slick and slushy. Each time we splashed through muddy brown puddles, my feet and ankles were christened by a spray of watery muck. The bus station, just like every other bus station we'd been to in Myanmar, was an unmarked, large dirt field, lined on both sides by vendor shacks.

The shacks always offer the exact same items; snacks that appear to be several months past their expiration date, fat, stumpy bananas, various soft drinks, bottled water, facial tissue, Myanmar smokes, and individually wrapped,  heavily scented wet wipes. Today the dirt field had been transformed into a viscous and uneven mire mound, by the ever present rain, and as we gingerly made our way across the mud field, over to the passenger waiting area, I almost lost a flip flop in the sludge. Another day, another blue and white bus.

This voyage only took about 2 hours, along a narrow, one-laned,  snake-like road, up some hills, through the rainforest, and several rice paddies, all the while, Myanmar pop music blasts from a portable speaker in the front of the bus. The 20 something male passenger behind me coughs, and hawks loogies out of the window the entire way.  I knew I shouldn't have bothered to wash my hair. From a distance, the rice fields resembled vibrant green patchwork quilts, dotted with light brown embroidery.

We finally caught a glimpse of the much anticipated coastline, blue-slate coloured water, against a candescent white sky. Knowing full well that it's monsoon season, we were, nevertheless, relentless in our pursuits to find a way to Ngwe Saung Beach, if only to experience a Myanmar beach. We had inquired about a bus from Yangon to the coastline, but were informed by several ticket agents that buses to the beach don't operate in the rainy season. It took us 3 towns, 3 buses,  3 moto-wagons, and 2 motorbikes, to get here. We hopped off the bus at an unmarked bus stop, and were taken to a resort by yet another set of motorbike taxis.

The sun came out to taunt us for a bit, and drenched the crashing dark blue-gray waves with sparkling silver. The long stretch of beach with powder-fine,  light caramel coloured sand, was nothing short of majestic, and virtually empty, save for a handful of local fisherman casting their nets, their wet clothes whipping around them in the gusty wind, water up to their knees.

Mid afternoon, the white clouds took on a light gray lining, the gray eventually graduating to a deep, dark, charcoal, until the entire sky became the color of soot. And then there was rain. It's easy to appreciate the beach on a sunny day, but the ocean on a rainy day is just as beautiful, in it's own right. Writing on the deck of our beach bungalow, completely sprawled out on a large wooden chair, just a few hundred meters from the pounding, massive waves, to the soundtrack of the deep, throaty, roar of the wind...It doesn't get much better than this.

    Ngwe Saung. Such a welcome sight!

Bagan--->Pyay--->Patthein

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Our bus to Pyay arrived in the alloted time, 8 hours and some change. We were taken to Smile Hotel in a converted moto-wagon, but alas, there were no vacancies. We surveilled Myat Loging Guesthouse next (that's actually how it was spelled.) The owners got out of bed to show us a room, a severely outdated and moldy smelling room, that is.  The price was lowered as I was making my exit, and it was getting late, so we decided to suck it up and spend a night there, flaky, moldy wallpaper, astroturf carpet with burn marks, and all.

It was reminiscent of someone's eccentric auntie's house circa 1970, with a relic of a television set to prove it. The power kept cutting in and out, and we found out later that the entire city of Pyay turns it's electricity off twice a day, and the more affluent businesses have generators as supplements. We had asked the guesthouse owner about bus tickets to Chaung Tha, and he sleepily and vaguely mentioned that the buses from Pyay to Chaung Tha depart several times daily, but when we went to inquire again during regular business hours, he told us 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. were the only time slots available. 6 p.m. was already sold out for that day, which meant spending another night in mildewy room 103. Thankfully the a/c was crisp and cool (when the power was on)...The shared bathroom at the end of the hall creeped me out a bit, especially since there was a hospital neighbouring the guesthouse. As I burrowed myself under the covers, I kept hearing intermittent knocking?!

Needless to say, I didn't manage to sleep well, and our transfer service to Pyay bus terminal was scheduled for 5:30 a.m. It took us under 20 minutes to get there, in the makeshift moto-wagon that definitely had no shocks, and made my boobs hurt. We waited 40 minutes for no good reason, batting off flies, and locals who spat out squirts of red betel juice however they saw fit.

When our bus finally pulled up, it was the run down, blue and white, non air-conditioned bus we had jeered at earlier, the aisles lined with sacks, produce, and more than slightly scented with last week's produce. There were 2 rows of narrow seats, and we sat behind 2 young monks. The seat cushions were made of pvc, and I slid around in every direction, trying to get comfortable, but to no avail. There were no floorboards, so my left leg swang, while my right leg was either hunched up, or laid out, depending on whether there was someone sitting in the aisle to my right or not, and there was a very real tetanus threat from all the rusty, protruding metal.

We had been promised a/c, and 6 hours of travel time; our journey ended up being a little under 13 hours, in a bus that was basically old sheet metal glued together, which just happened to have an engine, that stopped every 5-15 minutes, to pick up locals, drop off locals, pick up packages, drop off motorbikes (oh yes, there were 2 motorbikes in the cargo space), and/or stop in the middle of the road to chat up their colleagues. Not to mention, the driver of the bus would pay attention to everything but the road, with one hand on the massive steering wheel, and the other dangling a cigarette out the window. We only hydroplaned once, so I guess all's well that ends well? P.S. We're not very happy with the owner of Myat Guesthouse. 

We made it to Patthein.

The infamous blue & white bus

Such a cozy interior!

Yangon--->Innlay

Yangon, Day 2

We actually made it to breakfast this morn, which was included with our room rate. It was very pleasant, stir fried thin rice noodles with veggies and garlic, a flat banana fritter, and a side of passion fruit, along with "birthday" instant coffee, and tea. With breakfast in our bellies, we set off on an expedition: Kan Daw Gyi Lake, then, Shwe Dagon Pagoda.

 The morning started out cloudy and overcast, but the sun soon poked it's head. Lake entry fee for foreigners: $2 We had already made it about halfway across the wooden bridge over Kan Daw Gyi Lake before the sun's rays started pounding down on us, and had to stop and buy water from the only vendor we saw. Small bottle of water, 600 kyat. I guzzled mine and disposed of the empty plastic bottle in one of the small black trash bins that were located all along the wooden bridge.

Across the lake was a large, immensely ostentatious palace, that was in the shape of a boat. The lake and surrounding areas were very peaceful, and even though the body of water looked small on out map, it turned out to be a nice long, leisurely walk, with some shade offered from nearby trees. From Kan Daw Gyi Lake, it didn't take us very long to walk to Shwe Dagon Pagoda, across the road, up the slope, up up up the steps, a donation to the shoe check girl, a 5100 kyat pagoda entry fee, a 10,000 kyat deposit to borrow a top that covered my shoulders & a long skirt to cover my legs, and finally, we entered the pagoda.

 All I've got to say is WOW. I've been to countless places of religious worship in my travels, and my lifetime, but Shwe Dagon Pagoda took my breath away. The gold gilded stupa, visible from miles away, was massive, surrounded by a veritable "village" of smaller shrines. The sky was relatively clear and made for a beautiful blue backdrop against the ornate roof tops.

We hailed a cab in front of the Pagoda back to 32nd Street (2,000 kyat), and walked around for a long while, in search of a decent looking place to have lunch. I saw a red awning from a distance, and it turned out to be a Cafe offering a nice mix of western and asian dishes, as well as a coffee menu, but no wifi. After lunch we asked our server about a bus to Ngapali on the western coast of Myanmar, and she thought we were inquiring where the local bus stop was. After clarifying, she physically walked us a few doors over to a bus ticket kiosk, but the next ride to Ngapali was Friday, 6 days from now. Hmm.

We wandered into an actual travel agency, just as they were closing up, and the man who was walking out of there told us that during rainy season, there isn't much transportstion to the coast, and shook his head at me as i entertained the idea of renting a car. After much aimless wandering, we found a lady at the top 32nd Street who sold bus tickets. She too, told us that no buses run to the coast in the wet season, and helped us in selecting a destination. Tomorrow afternoon, we will be on an overnight bus to Innlay, bus fare: 15,000 kyat (about $15) Alleged travel time: 12 hours

Being that neither one of us has ever heard of Innlay before, we thought it'd be an interesting stop. 

First night in Yangon

11:18 pm

The shower in our $30 per night guesthouse, dispenses room temperature water, which shocked me even though I was forewarned. It took a nice long shower for me to feel even remotely clean...Yangon is not the tidiest of cities, and that's being pretty generous. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, but so far we've been here for all of 6 hours, and all I've seen is rubbish piled on top of rubbish, and after the rain, especially, it's not such a pretty sight. The pavements are all uneven, with potholes, and could be disastrous if one weren't paying attention. The backs of our legs were splotched with black marks from walking through puddles. The cars and buses drive frantically, and come out of nowhere. Pedestrians definitely don't have the right of way.

There are all sorts of street vendors: food, produce, dried goods, clothing, etc. On every street corner, there was a stand with green, heart shaped leaves, a white powdery paste, and various herbs in the middle. I do believe they chew the leaves. There was also a fried chicken stand, with various cuts of the bird, and the outsides were cooked, but the middle parts were raw. Men and women alike wear a sarong like bottom, which is the traditional garb, but a lot of people also wear modern clothes. The people dress kind of like their city looks: traditional with bits of modern day influences scattered about.

Surrounding our guesthouse are a golden pagoda, a catholic cathedral, and a mosque. The majority of older buildings have floor to ceiling wooden paneled doors, which remind me of the older buildings in Luang Prabang. Most of the buildings in Yangon are brightly painted every color of the rainbow. I was told by another traveler, a boisterous Puerto Rican, to walk up to the 19th Street and check out the cafes there, so we had dinner at Kôsan Cafe on 19th Street, in Chinatown, and it wasn't bad, contrary to my prior experiences with Burmese cuisine.

And I enjoyed Myanmar lager more than any other beer i've tried in southeast asia. Mixed nuts, cauliflower salad, ramen (of the instant variety) noodles with chicken, corn, and egg, sauteed pork, steamed rice, honey toast with sauteed bananas, and icecream, a mojito, and 2 large beers cost 13100 kyat (about $14). I found it odd how strangely the icecream was scooped...After dinner, we tried to find a cool bar to have another drink, but there didn't seem to be much nightlife, so we ended up at Singapore Food Junction, which looked to be a collection of cafes, and where I ended up having to use the restroom.

The restrooms in Yangon, starting at the airport, have all been squatters. The only western style toilet i've seen is the one at our guesthouse! Wifi seems to be few and far between, and even our guesthouse doesn't offer it. I'm thinking this could be good for me; to just disconnect from the world for the duration of this trip. I regret not having brought a book to read, but i guess this'll be a good time to write. I had a lot of fun reverting back to childhood at Alibaba Arcade in the Singapore Food Junction. I didn't know it walking in, but the Arcade is also a poor man's casino, and we played a bit of Roulette, after a super fun motorbike race!! Wowo.

Burmese people seem to be very friendly and helpful thus far, and extremely happy to see tourists in their country. Our cab driver from the airport spoke excellent English, and pointed out all the sights we should see along the way, along with giving us pointers on how to efficiently budget our money. Cab ride from Yangon Airport to Downtown Yangon was roughly 20 km, and cost $10. So far, so good.

 Young nuns asking for donations near our hotel in Yangon.

    

Thursday, June 6, 2013, the journey from Koh Phangan to Koh Tao,Thailand

Transfer service to Thongsala ferry port in Ban Tai, in the southern portion of Koh Phangan arrived promptly at 9:50 a.m. and turned out to be the resort owner's pops. Transportation was a silver pickup truck converted into a สองแถว, or song taew, literally translated to "2 rows". The 2 foreigners were put in the back of the pickup truck along the 2 rows, with only a roof to guard them from the elements, while I had the fortune of sitting next to pops, up front, with crisp & cool a/c, and had the great pleasure of chatting him up on the lumpy bumpy ride to the pier. 

The voyage in a covered vehicle was no less rugged than the motorbike ride in the opposite direction; it was akin to riding a small, three legged pony most of the way, albeit there was now sheet metal surrounding me, and airbags. Pops told me there had been one too many fatal accidents involving foreigners on motorbikes, and pointed out the altars and flowers on the side of the road where the corpses had been found, as evidence. He told me that almost every day, there was a fallen foreigner and motorbike in the gravel, and that the island should open a first aid stand on the treacherous and ever winding mountain pass. Pops and his family have been running their resort in the northeastern part of the island for many generations, and he's clearly seen, first hand, all of the Koh Phangan shenanigans. He mentioned how the local police officers go undercover and lure in unknowing foreigners and sell them drugs, then promptly arrest them. 

Oh silly tourists, don't you know, psychedelics ++ can be found at any bar on Had Rin. I think if you're foolish enough to be duped by a Thai police officer, you actually should spent the night in lala land. I think it's already pretty well known how corrupt the justice system on Koh Phangan is anyhow, so it came as no surprise to me to hear confirmation from a local elder. 

He also went on to warn me of motorbike rental shops and how they scam customers into thinking damage was done to their rented bikes, and then demanding payment for alleged repairs. Or even worse, parked rented bikes are stolen BY the rental places, and then reported missing, so that the renter has no choice but to pay for the stolen bike! Pops warned me not to get on a motorbike to my hotel on Koh Tao (my next destination) because the roads on that island are even worse than on Koh Phangan, and he couldn't believe I made it on one to his resort in the first place. Duly noted. Thanks pops!

Random rants whilst island hopping in the Gulf of Thailand...

  I had intended to wake up at 5 a.m. and catch the sunrise, but failed miserably! Thongtapan Resort has the most comfy bed I've ever had the pleasure of sleeping in, in Asia. It's almost as comfy as the bed I gave away when I decided to become a nomad last July. Yawn...another leisurely awakening...my cottage is several hundred meters up the mountain, which makes hurrying virtually impossible, for fear of plummeting to my death. Granite does not make for a soft landing, by any standards. And quite frankly, I'm done hurrying, period.

 I went in search of The Yoga Studio, which is located near the neighbouring beach, Had Thong Nai Pan Yai. Didn't make it very far, as my stomach was yelling angrily at me. It was clearly time for a much awaited lunch. The Star Hut provided stellar service, a delicious meal of flash fried garlic pepper soft shell crab, and stir fried morning glory with tons of fresh garlic, fish sauce, and a healthy dose of red and green chilies. Yum! Revived, I set back on my yoga studio quest. Sigh, didn't make it very far as I spotted a place called "Better Than Sex". I'm not gunnna lie, the name did catch my attention, but it was the coffee drinks that drew me in. It's kind of a mission to find an espresso machine anywhere here. 

Like a few of the buildings on Koh Phangan, Better Than Sex (which is a pizza joint) is built right into the large granite boulders that surround the island. It's really a majestic sight for sore eyes! After my cappucino break, I set out once more, to find the yoga studio, and lo and behold, a fresh fruit shake stand! Call me perpetually distracted...A mango and pineapple shake please! I watched as the fruit was freshly sliced into the blender, along with some ice, hold the simple syrup! As I sipped on my fruit shake, the girl behind the stand and I chatted. As well as her fruit shake empire, she also holds cooking classes, and asked if i could translate some words from Thai to English for her. Some thai vegetables really don't have an English translation, as far as I know, especially the herbs. And the English call cilantro, coriander, which are 2 different things in America! Basil and Holy Basil? Um...Confusing, much? 

By the by, I never made it to the yoga place, which was another 30 minutes walking, past the fork, up the hill, through the forest. Next time!  :) For the rest of the afternoon I frolicked up and down the beach, and kept my peanut M&M's away from one of the resort pups. Dogs aren't allowed to have chocolate, silly!

  My only standing chore is doing my laundry. Those of you that have been on the road with me have seen me and chuckled: I take a plastic bag, that hopefully doesn't have any holes in it, throw the dirty laundry in, along with some water, and biodegradable surfactant. I prefer the brand "Essence", which leaves my clothes smelling amazing. The laundry gets to soak for at least 10 minutes and then I rub the clothes together as best as I can, wring 'em out, and then it's time for a rinse. Then another wring. With any luck, whichever guesthouse I'm staying at, has provided a clothes line and pins, or a rack of some sort, and the clothes get to hang there until dry.

If you're wondering why I don't just send my clothes out to be laundered, sometimes there simply isn't laundry service in the sticks, and the few times I have sent my clothes out to be washed, they came back smelling moldy, and/or with detergent stains, or some articles of clothing were missing OR I had gained a few pieces of someone else's laundry! Yikes! Travel tip: The water that comes out of taps on most Southeast Asian islands is reconstituted, and looks like clear water that has had a splash of tea mixed in, in case you were wondering. 

  Sometimes I miss having a washer and dryer, a car, and other things that facilitate every day living. But if you asked me to choose between having those luxuries, and parting with the life rejuvenating experiences I've had on my journey thus far, well, I think we all know the answer to that one. Live in love. There is no other way. 

Thai Airways versus Air Asia

It's really all about the details...

Air Asia is a hot mess, and Thai Airways is definitely not. For example, I had booked a flight at 8:50 p.m. not knowing my minivan from Pai to Chiangmai would only take 3 hours coming down the mountain...i waited in the nice, orderly line at CNX and asked the reservation agent could move me to standy by status for the next available flight. She handed me a slip of paper with a time and place to check back in, booth #23 at 16:45. i headed to burger king on the 2nd floor, then came back down, and sure enough, there was an available seat on the next flight.

The balance between good and evil.

Masjid Raya in Medan

An intersection near my hotel in Medan

P032113
Fresh out of Polonia airport, and my first time setting foot on Indonesian soil...It was a little past 7pm and I had just finished checking into Garuda Citra Hotel on Sisingamangaraja in Medan. Had intended to grab a bite from one of the food stalls, and was walking towards Masjid Raya, when I felt my purse being yanked off of my shoulder. 

There were 2 derelicts on a motorbike, and the scumbag passenger was trying to make off with my bag! I was relentless, and would not let go. No one is taking my passport and wallet without a fight, said I. As a result, my belongings still remain in my possession, but I was thrown onto the ground when the thief finally let go; I must've rolled around several times given the number of bruises and scrapes on my shoulders, arms, back, hip, and ankles, and my head took a severe pounding on the concrete.

 My glasses had been knocked clear off my face, and someone found them and put them back on for me. Everything went fuzzy for a few minutes, and my right ear was ringing. Now that I can see straight, there are scrapes on my knuckles, and toes, as added bonuses. If I had been a cartoon, I'd have had stars and birds all around my head. Several people ran over to help me up and handed me water. One man, a cab driver, asked if i wanted to go to a hospital. I said, yes, and he helped me stay upright, as I kept staggering. 5 minutes later, we had arrived at a clinic, and a huge welt had already formed on the right side of my head, just above my ear, close to my temple. 

I felt like throwing up, and almost did in the back of the cab; the impact had knocked the wind right out of me, and I was completely disoriented. The wait to see the doctor was luckily,very brief, and I was seen in virtually no time. The doctor examined me, and cleaned my wounds with betadine, then prescribed some medicine, assuring me that my head would be fine, and I should just rest. I would have been happy sleeping on the clinic bed for the night, I was so so sad. He initially wanted to give me an injection but I requested pills. At that point, any additional pain would have been too much. 

One of the bruises on my hip from the incident

Bruised left foot from the incident

Afterward, the cab driver took me to the pharmacy, went in and filled my prescription for me, brought it back out, bought me water, fed me the pills, and drove me back to my hotel. He helped me to my room, and told the hotel staff what had happened, and left. A short while later I heard knocking on my door. It was the cab driver and 3 of the hotel staff. The cab driver had brought me some sweet pandan breads! I cannot begin to express how grateful I am, for the kindness of complete strangers. The world would be a much better place if everyone was molded after my cab driver. And from now on, I will carry only a small satchel. Lesson learned. 

The cab driver who scraped me off the pavement. My hero! I took him out to dinner and got lots of takeout for his family.

A few days after the incident, I pieced myself back together and made my way to Berastagi, which is about 62 kilometers south of Medan. Despite my badly bruised foot and hip, I managed to (slowly) hike Gunung Sibayak at 2,212 meters.

At the summit of Gunung Sibayak in Berastagi

Some lovely local girls in Berastagi who asked me to teach them English

In this day and age...

Half past 7 and i left my hotel, unchaperoned as always, in search of satay. i didn't have to look very far; Rex, which is a food court that is open only in the evenings, is right across from Hotel Medan where i'm staying...i just picked a random satay cart, and ordered 4 sate sapi skewers (beef satay) nasi, and te manis (sweet tea) and found a table right in the middle of the curb. there was a couple to my left, and 4 local men at the table to my right. i haven't seen any women out at night without a male chaperone. apparently the curfew for women in these parts is 10 p.m.                      

The whole time i've been seated, i hear laughing and catcalling from the table to my right. my te manis arrives, and i stir every single granule of sugar until each and every granule has dissolved into the black tea. more laughing and catcalling continues in the background... when i finally turn and glare at the obnoxious men, they point at the food which has arrived at their table and beckon me over. i shake my head and tell them i have not a clue what they're saying. laughing continues then dies down; being that there is food on their table now, they're not as boisterous. my 4 skewers arrive, and i basically snort them, and order 4 more. they were definitely asian sized skewers! a yummy coconut fish head-seafood stew accompanies my meal. i snort the next 4 skewers, then polish of my te manis. the table on my right has finished eating as well, and more catcalling commences.

i look over, and one of the men has his cell phone out and points to it then points at me. i ask for the check. and leave. this is definitely not a city that is accustomed to single female travelers. I was told on the way here by a group of Aceh women in the same bus, that even i, a foreigner, must not wear shorts or tank tops in Aceh, or my clothes would get snipped right off of me, or worse. The women spoke as much English as I speak Indonesian, so we used the universal language of sign.

i think it's peculiar, in a place where the women are so reserved, that the men are the polar opposite. Woman have a curfew of 10 pm. All females must wear traditional headdresses, and cover all flesh from the head down (leaving only the face exposed) but the men are allowed to dress as modern as they'd like. I understand that this is part of their religion, and tradition, but i can't imagine it's fun for these women to don so many layers of clothing in this preposterous heat and humidity, day in and day out, and somehow look as pristine and beautiful as they always seem to. Much respect.

The Heart Of My Travels

January 15, 2013

Traveling means different things to different people. To me, traveling means exploring, having new experiences, breaking free from what I know; breaking free from my comfort zone and doing things I normally would never do. Having been born and raised in a big city, I'd grown accustomed to the "finer" things in life, the luxurious and the expensive were the norm to me. When I was young and stupid, I went so far as to purchase a brand new car because the leather seats matched my handbag. If I added up how much I've spent on handbags over the years, I could probably put a down payment on a home. None of these material things ever made me truly happy. They filled a void; for over a decade, material objects and mind altering substances only served to fill a void.

I left Los Angeles in July of 2012, selling whatever I could and hugged my dear friends and wonderful dad goodbye, not knowing when I would see them again. I bid farewell to 2 perfectly decent jobs, and set out on a journey into the unknown.

It's been nearly 7 months since I left home, and I have gotten to know myself more than I ever have in all of my 35 years of life on this earth. The best thing I've ever bought myself was a plane ticket. It took me a long time to realize this, and now it has become a way of life: The best things in life are free.

I was never a nature-loving girl. I was afraid of dirt and didn't like getting grimy. Puddles scared the shit out of me. I thought for sure I'd contract a communicable disease from filthy water. And forget public transportation. There was no way you'd catch me on the bus or subway back home.
Oh how the tables have turned...I've been climbing caves, waterfalls, and various other rocky and scary things, barefoot, at that (with a little help from the kind souls i meet)

My car didn't fit in my 40 liter backpack, so trains and buses became my allies. I was scared to death of motorbikes, but sometimes that's the only way to get around in South East Asia. Flag down a motorbike for hire, hop on, and pray to arrive at your destination safely. I even attempted to ride a scooter on Koh Lanta, and careened into metal railing, but hey, I tried something I was scared to death of. Next time I will practice in an empty parking lot with no inclines.

I played with 20 Cambodian orphans in Siem Reap, whose parents had abandoned them, and the orphanage was funded solely by a Western woman, God bless her heart. The children slept outside under a rattan awning, and were in awe at everything I said and did. They all remembered my name, and ran after me blowing kisses as I left. I gave one little girl a coin, a euro. In my mind, I wished that she would one day get to use that coin. The red dirt road to the orphanage had more potholes than I'd ever seen before in my life and I don't know how motorbikes managed to navigate the treacherous path.

I drank tequila and beer with Thai prostitutes at a bar on Koh Samui and listened to their stories. Most of these women have children to feed; their children live elsewhere in Thailand; and selling their most valuable asset is how these women and their children survive (if they're lucky, men will pay them up to 5000 baht. I heard of a girl who only got paid 200 baht which is about $6. When I was 13, and we had moved to Bangkok, I had a live-in babysitter/housekeeper. She lived with us in Bangkok, but had a sister who lived in Chiang Khong. Her sister sold her body and bought a house for their mother and herself, and then discovered she was dying of AIDS. The sad fact is, this is not uncommon in South East Asia.

After getting off the ferry and partying all night on New Year's Eve,I found out how corrupt Koh Phangan is from a local woman the following day. It was January 1st, 2013, and my friends and I were having breakfast and chatting. Seated at a table to my far left, a European guy with shaggy dark hair wearing only a speedo, started convulsing and fell off his chair. 2 guys from another table went to help him up and he threw punches at them, and then swung at the girls in the kitchen. They dragged his ass to the clinic nearby, and after we finished eating, we saw that he had calmed down and was sitting at a table outside the clinic with a black and white puppy. 

The woman who was waiting on us told me some heart wrenching tales. Drugs are easily accessed on Koh Phangan, if you didn't already know, and the cops do absolutely nothing to prevent any of it. Pharmacists on Koh Phangan encourage Ritalin sales so party people can stay up all night. Ritalin is 200 baht a pop, definitely not cheap , and hmm, I wonder who's making a profit. Someone had jumped from the second story of a building the previous night and gotten impaled by a metal rod. 

The local woman told me these are everyday occurrences, and that saddens me to my very core. How does one draw the line between partying and having a grand ol' time, and going overboard? How do the local cops turn their head? there are medical clinics on every corner, and hmmm, i wonder why... And how do foreigners not know or choose to ignore their own limits? There is much more to life than being stuck in a drug and alcohol hole and being half dead to the world. There were signs for parties as far as the eye could see. Half Moon Party, Full Moon Party, Waterfall Party, Jungle Party. How about a Clean The Beach Party so that people aren't wading in their own waste, plastic bottles, cans, and plastic bags? Every time I turned around, there was some numbnut pissing in the ocean.

Don't get me wrong...dancing all night as the ocean wind whips through your hair, as the tide caresses your ankles (mostly pee pee tide) and the sheer energy of all the partygoers is a revelation in itself. the music doesn't stop 'til about 9 or 10 a.m. but do yourself a favor and quit while you're ahead; take care of yourself and others. There's more to life than fist pumping, snorting your brains out, and being an empty carcass the next day or couple of days. There's more to your vacation than staying at a posh 5 star resort, that's probably just a place to stash your bags anyway (hopefully). 

I met some masseuses by my bungalow in Lamai Beach, which is the quieter side of Koh Samui, and they give massages on the beach. Their workdays are 10 hours long, with no breaks, and massages start at 250 baht (about $8) a pop. Can you imagine how tired your hands would be after rubbing down a big fat german guy for an hour, let alone 10 hours? my bungalow cost 600 baht a night, which is about
$20. some Thais don't even make that in a week's worth of work. Sad but true fact. 

I realize that tourism brings income to impoverished countries, but at what expense? Thailand's crystal clear blue waters are now littered with trash.Endangered dead pink dolphins are washing up to shore from the Gulf of Thailand. Monkeys on Monkey Island in Krabi are eating the trash that tourists are leaving behind.

I could sit here and write about Barcelona, Ibiza, London, Paris, Milano, Venezia, Bologna, Rimini, Lazio, Agrigento, Castelmola, Cefalù, Palermo, Taormina, San Gimignano, Verona, Antwerp, Brussels, Langkawi, Georgetown, Kuala Lumpur, Luang Prabang, Vientiane, Vang Vieng, Amsterdam, Cadaques, Figueres, etc. but we'll save those for another day. those countries don't need to be saved. my motherland and surrounding countries do.

Loved ones, here's a Lightning in a Bottle slogan for you: Leave it better. Leave it beautiful

Phnom Penh--->Sihanouville

January 18, 2013

I was supposed to be downstairs waiting for the bus at 8:15 a.m. It was 8:07 a.m. when i jolted out of bed to the knocking on my door. The big red bus was honking loudly and no one on board looked too pleased. Oops. I had spent the night in Koh Kong at Raksmey Rathanak Guesthouse to break up the trip from Bangkok to Phnom Penh, in an attempt to get some zzzzzs...

11:30 a.m. We're at a reststop with strange lookin food, but yummy looking desserts. Cigs are ony 5,000 riel a pack?! The bathrooms are, of course, a hole in the ground. I think we're almost in Sihanoukville. I saw some cattle whose horns were tied together in the back of a truck. Sad face.

11:39 a.m. Toll road. I had to show my passport to the police yesterday and pay a toll of 1400 riel as passenger on a motorbike taxi. I haven't showered yet today, and I need to go to the Vietnamese Consulate. I haven't seen any 7-11s, just heaps and heaps of sim card shops: Smart Mobile, Honey, and various others, but not a soul can instruct me on how to activate internet on my phone. I must have tried 5 different shops yesterday. Oh, and there's tons of Angkor and Anchor beer. Beer galore!

12:02 p.m. We're in Sihanoukville!!!

I had to hire a motorbike taxi to get to the Vietnamese Consulate to apply for my visa. I think it cost me under $4 roundtrip. My single entry Vietnamese Visa was granted to me in under 10 minutes for $60...

January 19, 2013

6:34 a.m.
I hear knocking on my door again at Sokhom guesthouse this time. It was the hotel clerk. My pick up service had arrived and I was late yet again! We circled around Sihanoukville for a bit until the minivan was full of Khmer, and we then ended up at the bus station. I was very impressed that we all had pre-assigned seats. I tried to plunk down in the first row, but the driver informed me that I had been assigned to seat #14.

I inflated my neck pillow and got 22 pages into my new book, then dozed off. The bus stopped at 9 a.m. in the middle of nowhere, and everyone got off to buy random snacks and fruit from the shacks. There were about 5 shacks all selling the same things. I got out and smoked a cig, and asked if anyone sold cigs, but they were all weird brands, so I got back on the bus. 9:14 a.m. and we depart via Phnom Penh. I'm tired of stupid snacks. I want real food!!! I had bought some sugar crackers and a Diet Coke earlier, and that's all I've been nibbling on. There's only 2 Caucasians on this bus, one of which is with a homely little Asian woman, from which part of Asia, I'm not sure, but they were conversing in English. She was feeding him milk from a carton, and I noticed him brandishing a flacon of whisky which had a scorpion in it. He offered me some scorpion whisky, and I muttered, "Thank you, but it's too early." To which he slurred, "Ha ha, it's a little too late!"

  Thank God for earphones that block out whiny Khmer music pumping fromt the bus speakers. The a/c is freakishly cold, just like it was on the bus from Koh Kong. I nearly froze to death in my shorts and tank top. Aside from the stellar air con, G.S.T. Express bus isn't so bad! There's ample leg room, and fully reclining seats. They don't pack passengers in like sardines, nor do they stop for locals like buses in Thailand do so often. All the buses also display signs in Khmer and English with questions such as: "Do our company ensure safety?" "Whatever our insufficient services?" and "Please criticize through the Phone Number." Amazing!

  I found there to be a lack of Diet Coke and Coke Zero in Koh Kong, but there was an ample supply in Sihanoukville. It's weird that there are so many mini marts that all sell the same thing. The pharmacies dispense whatever you request, by the way.

Phnom Penh

 It took about 6 hours to get from Sihanoukville to Phnom Penh via air conditioned bus and cost me 600 baht ($20) but had I driven myself, it would've taken just under 3 hours (I drive fast). As soon as we set foot off the bus in the city center, there were tuktuks and motorbikes for hire hovering around like vultures going in for the kill.

I found a polite tuktuk driver who said he'd take me to a safe and cheap guesthouse for $3

and, after that, to and from Choeung Ek (The Killing Fields) which is about 17 kilometres (10 miles) away from Phnom Penh, for $15. I tried to barter a bit, but his prices seemed fair enough so I didn't make a big fuss over it. We arrived at Golden Home Guesthouse in no time. He told me to go inside and look at a room and see if I liked it, and he waited outside while I did surveillance.

The only room available was on the fourth floor, and I had had an accident before I'd left Bangkok, re-injuring my gimpy left knee. Hobble hobble hobble. A room with a fan cost $15. It was clean, and had running water. It appeared that there used to be a water heater, but it's now just a useless piece of plastic with one wire jutting out at the top. Super safe! I haven't seen any Cambodian guesthouses with toilet paper yet, and this is my second time in Cambodia, and fourth city visited in the Kingdom. While the bathroom appeared to be very clean, the sink leaks onto the tile floor, and when you flush the toilet, the sink doesn't work at all. If you've been to Southeast Asia before, you're probably used to the shower, sink, and toilet, all in the same area, and the spray nozzle for your butt, that's attached to the toilet tank. There wasn't even a bar of soap in the bathroom?!?!  It's become a habit now; I carry tissues, toilet paper, liquid soap, and antibacterial wipes with me everywhere I go.

  Fast Forward, I chucked my backpack in my room, and ran downstairs to check in, then hopped in my awaiting tuktuk to The Killing Fields. my driver stopped and bought 2 surgical masks. I thanked him but said I'd be fine, I smoke so much that a little dust wouldn't bother me. (Later on I blew my nose and my boogers were black.) The road to Choeung Ek was one of the most heinous roads I've ever been on. Someone could lose an eye or a limb, or both, easily. There were cranes, tractors, open trenches, motorbikes going in every which way, variations of paved, unpaved, cobbled, and red dirt roads, and all part of the same street. Nothing startles me anymore. And near-collisions don't count. We were literally an inch away from a mack truck that decided to do a u-turn mid traffic. Pebbles flew everywhere and there was so much dust that it was hard to see in front of us.

Luckily, even in gridlock, it didn't take terribly long to get to the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center. My tuktuk driver said he'd be waiting under the trees for me and showed me the way to the entrance. The admission fee was $5, and I was given headphones and an electronic device with a number pad on it that served as my virtual tour guide. I won't go into too much detail, because I don't want to ruin the experience for those that have not yet been to Choeung Ek; i personally had been moved to tears, and left the museum with a new awareness.

  

Around 1:10 a.m. after dicking around online, I felt a bit peckish, so I climbed down the 4 flights of stairs and asked a hotel worker if there were any restaurants open. He gestured towards the dark street and told me I could take a look but he was pretty sure everything was closed. I asked if the guesthouse's kitchen was open, and he said it was. Well why the heck didn't you tell me sooner, numbnut?!

I sat down and saw a table tent: Restaurant hours 6 a.m. to 2 a.m. Geez Louise, those are long hours for the kitchen staff. I sat down and ordered a salami, cheese, and tomato toastie, which was basically a panini, and a diet coke. A short while later a Cambodian girl and an obviously intoxicated Caucasian male walked in and sat at the table next to mine. I played on my phone the whole time until my food arrived, oblivious to the world. After inhaling my sandwich, I craved something sweet, and ordered a Malteser Crunchie, which was 3 scoops of french vanilla icecream, crushed Maltesers, and hot fudge.

 After that, it was cigarette time, and I had to pack my brand new smokes. I'm guessing my loud cigarette packing made the Caucasian guy turn around and ask me if I was on vacation. I told him it was more of a stay-cation, and I'd been traveling since July. Turns out he's from Canada, and the girl he was with was a local Khmer girl who bartends on Street 104, the riverfront pub street, which is notorious for sex tourism. We chatted for a long bit, and Canada told me he used to be in the military. This was after I mentioned how much trash and filth I had seen in Phnom Penh. He retorted by saying Afghanistan was worse, and thought Thailand was pretty filthy too, and smells bad. I got the feeling he doesn't care much for Thailand. Told me he had somehow broken his jaw and was laying on the ground bleeding as 15 Thai people just glanced at him and kept walking. Sad.

 An older German man asked if he could sit down and join us, and i gestured yes. Mid conversation, a beautiful Khmer girl, with long blonde hair, tons of makeup, porcelain skin, and a petite perfect body walked out from one of the rooms, accompanied by an older, dark haired, European-looking guy. Apparently it costs anywhere from $8 to $50 to have a prostitute over. I can never get over the fact that it's normal for a girl to sell her vagina for money. I talked to Canada about it and he said it was perfectly normal in Southeast Asia and I should get used to it. I made a comment about how guys who have to pay for sex should go home and shoot themselves in the face, and he said he had paid for sex before. Sigh.

 He said selling your body is a job. You work, you make money, it's your job. He said he feels like the king of the world in Pattaya and Phnom Penh, but admitted it gets annoying to be haggled by prostitutes when you're just trying to have a beer and watch football. My opinion: Caucasian men who frequent Southeast Asia and pay for sex are usually the dorks in the Western world, that can't get laid no matter how hard they try, and their sex life consists of porn sites, magazines, and their left and/or right hand.

After Canada and his girl left, Germany asked what I was doing tonight. I said, "Sleeping." He offered me a beer and I lied and told him I was on antibiotics.  He told me a tale of how he took a girl home and thought she just liked him and wanted to hang out, but asked for $25 at the end of the night. He then asked if I was sleeping alone and I said, "Of course!" He went to the restroom, and I hobbled as fast as I could up to my room and locked the door. Not open for business. Ever.