Beware of the Ativan Gang and other scams in Manila!

On October 14, 2014, at around 5 pm or so, I was walking up Roxas Blvd along Manila Bay, towards the ferris wheel. There were many people hanging around, some just lounging, some were fishing in the bay. I had just passed Aristocrats Restaurant when I was approached by 2 women, a chubby light-skinned Filipina with a round face, that looked to be in her early 30's and about 5 feet tall, with dyed light brown hair that was just past her shoulders, and the other looked to be in her 60's and was very petite, maybe 4'9, with a darker complexion and short black hair. She was dressed in a purple top, and what looked to be a traditional Filipino style purple skirt, and purple plastic thong sandals. 

The younger woman complimented me on my green dress, she said green was her favorite color. She also said she liked my height, and how did I get so tall? She was wearing a t-shirt that accentuated her bulbous belly, and jean shorts. The 2 women asked me what my name was and told me theirs', the younger chubby one was named Karyn, and the older petite one was named Imelda. They asked if this was my first visit to Manila and I replied that it was. 

I asked if they were visiting Manila as well and they told me that they had had to evacuate their home in Legazpi, south of Mayon volcano, that the impending eruptions had led to volcanic ash contaminating the air and their water supply. They asked me whether I was alone, and if I had any plans. I said I didn't. They said they were on their way to visit a church made of all metal and said I should see the church and ride in a jeepney, and asked if I would like to come along. I took some selfies with Karyn since she was seated next to me in the jeepney, and she warned me about letting others see expensive phones. She said people snatch phones out of jeepneys all the time, and necklaces also. She looked at my necklace and asked what it was made of. I told her it was white gold. In retrospect, I should have said it was tinfoil. She was wearing a white gold ring with a small white diamond set in it on her left middle finger.

    Me in a jeepney.

 Imelda said she had researched how to get to this all metal church, but when we got there, it seemed like she had been there before. She halfheartedly walked me around the church and then we went outside. I placed some money in the donation box outside, lit a candle, and placed it in the candlelabra, and prayed for my deceased loved ones. Imelda took pictures of me with my camera while I was lighting the votive. We all walked back inside the church and Imelda and Karyn both touched the holy water and prayed. When we left the church, I asked a security guard to take a few photos of the three of us, with San Sebastian church in the background. 

    San Sebastian Church in Quiapo

Imelda and Karyn walked around like they knew the area very well, and we ended up at a small non-descript local shop that served beer and had a karaoke machine. Karyn and Imelda insisted that I have some beer. Imelda said she was very stressed about having to evacuate her home and needed to relax with a beer, and I should drink with her. Karen and Imelda wanted to sing karaoke, but the shop was obviously closing soon, so we went to Golden Banana Eatery. Imelda said her male relative would be joining us, but she said she didn't tell him they were with a foreign guest, as he was very shy, and still single. We ordered a few rounds of San Miguel, lechon, mami, buttered chicken, and sang several karaoke songs. Karyn went to 7-11 during dinner, but was gone for quite some time. She had some candy in her hand when she came back and fed it to me. I went to the toilet once while we were at Golden Banana Eatery. Yes, my glass was unattended. 

A few rounds of beer will not normally make me feel even slightly intoxicated, mind you. I remember paying 500 pesos of the 1100 peso bill, because I ordered the majority of the food and ate most of it. I vaguely remember Karyn taking my necklace off, and me grabbing it from her fat hand and stuffing it in my pouch. I remember walking out of the Golden Banana Eatery, and I think Karyn was holding my hand, which I thought was strange.

I was also convinced that I had to go to the atm, but I was very groggy at that point and didn't know why I was at the atm in the first place because I had cash in my wallet, and I noticed Karyn was peering at the keypad. Perhaps I had been coerced into going to the atm? I told her I needed privacy when I saw her keep looking over my shoulder. I don't remember anything after this. I have a bunch of receipts that say no money was dispensed due to incorrect pin entry, thank Buddha. If I remember correctly, I had $22, 2500 baht, and 7,000 pesos in my wallet before i ran into Karyn and Imelda. 

I must have fallen down at some point because I have a scrape on my right elbow and a small abrasion on my right pinky finger. I remember bits of staggering into Tune Hotel Ermita lobby, and blacking out. I woke up fully clothed, alone, and in my hotel bed. The next day, I was very very groggy and went downstairs to buy food at 7-11, but struggled to walk. The 7-11 clerk said i owed her 160 pesos from the previous night, so I paid her. I had a few hundred pesos left in my wallet, but everything else was cleared out. My white gold necklace, worth $250, was also gone. All the photos of Karyn, Imelda, and I, had been deleted. I'm surprised they hadn't taken my camera or my cellphones. The 7-11 security guard asked me if I remembered what had happened the previous night. I was so groggy I didn't think to ask him why? I even missed my flight to Puerto Princesa City that day because I was so disoriented. 

I've traveled solo through all of Southeast Asia and parts of Western Europe, and I usually have my wits about me, but being drugged and robbed is not a situation I ever imagined myself in, and I don't wish it upon anyone. I later read that there is at least one robbery every day in Ermita, and that local authorities have done nothing to protect tourists. Be warned when visiting Manila. There are scam artists everywhere, starting at NAIA Airport with non-metered white van taxis that charge 5 times the normal metered fare. You are forewarned.

My Solo Journey to Preah Vihear

 Always waitin' on a bus...       

      Wow. What an adventure. I left Sikhiu on Wed Oct 1, 2014 and got to Korat Bus Terminal around noon that day. The bus to Kantharalak would depart at 2pm but it was 10 to 3 when it actually departed. The entire bus, save for 3 civilians including me, was full of Thai soldiers. 

When I got to Kantharalak just before 9 pm, I was greeted by a light show of a carnival directly adjacent to the bus terminal. It was bizarre that this non-descript looking town had a massive carnival, and a large Tesco Lotus as well! 2 drivers for hire approached me and I inquired about my intended destination: Preah Vihear, the 11th century temple nestled in the mountains separating Thailand and Kampuchea, which has been the subject of border disputes for the last decade or so, since part of the temple is in Kantharalak district, on Thai soil, and part is in Choam Khsant province, on Kampuchean soil.

The carnival in Kantharalak

   Casualties and losses have occured, including damage to the temple. The 2 drivers for hire told me that the closest border had been closed due to unrest and I would have to hire a car and driver to get there. One of the men was wearing a severely faded pink t shirt and had sak yant tattoos. I asked for a moment and walked to the information booth of the empty bus terminal. There was a man seated there who looked like he was dozing off and I asked him if I really had to hire a car and driver to Preah Vihear. He said yes, that that was the case. Ugh!

 The man in the pink t shirt had followed me in and I asked for his phone number in case i needed his services. He showed me a guesthouse right around the corner from the bus terminal and I thanked him and went in search of a clean bed. 

The rooms at Sala Villa were pretty decent, and clean. I asked the receptionist about transport to Preah Vihear and she told me the same thing that I was told at the bus terminal, the border at Kantharalak closest to Preah Vihear had been closed. Ughhh. She yelled across the room at a man across the lobby and asked if he'd be willing to drive that way. Apparently he was the receptionist's brother. He also quoted 300 less than the drivers at the bus terminal. I said, "Alright, 5:30 am tomorrow. See you then." 

 And so the journey began the following day, about 150 km to Choam border, and some of the roads were paved, but with huge potholes. If the driver's truck had been an automatic, he surely would have lost his transmission, a couple times. We arrived at the Choam immigration checkpoint just after 7:30. I thanked my driver and paid him, then proceeded to have my passport inspected.

 When i had officially arrived in Kampuchea, there were a group of smartly dressed immigration officers sat around a table, not doing much of anything. I told them where I intended to go, and one of them told me it was another 250 km away from the checkpoint. Ha! 

The only attraction near Choam border was a bloody casino. I had used my Thai passport to enter Kampuchea, and Thais are forbidden to enter Preah Vihear. I had to speak to yet another immigration officer, showed him on my passport that I was actually born in the USA, and he relented and told me, under no circumstances, should I show my Thai passport to anyone, or speak any Thai while I was at Preah Vihear.

The price quoted for a car and driver was absolutely horrendous, (a little over $100) but I said,"Fuck it. I'm here. Let's go!" So off we went, my driver and I, through many red dirt roads, herds of cows, villages, and after stopping on numerous occasions at military checkpoints, I spotted the Dangrek Mountains where my coveted temple was built on. 

The red dirt road leading to Preah Vihear

We passed several military checkpoints, ornate gated homes, wood houses on stilts with red tiled ceilings in rows like little soldiers, and finally, a path with makeshift wooden structures on either side and a little shanty hut with a sleepy soldier in it. I don't think my driver had ever been to Preah Vihear because he stopped on several occasions for directions. 

We drove right by Preah Vihear ticket booth and had to make a u turn up the red dirt road and then pulled into the ticket booth. The entire place was teeming with monks and locals, I never saw a single tourist the entire time I was there. Tickets were on a donation basis. 

From the ticket booth, the path up the mountain could only be accessed by motorbike, $5 for a bike with a driver.

 At first I thought the girl at the ticket booth meant I had to ride the bike up 525 meters on my own and I laughed, cuz it might have taken me 2 days to get up there. The moto driver was very very skilled, thank buddha, and he had a green plastic container filled with petrol strapped to the middle console of his motorbike. The inclines were severely steep, but the view! Oh the view! 

I nearly flew off a few times, as I was too busy gawking at the scenery. We passed a few shacks that were people's homes and a few hundred meters away, parked the bike. It was about 10:30 am at the time. There were several food stalls, and I bought a bottle of water, then proceeded up a slushy stone path. 

The Dangrek Mountain range

There was natural spring water seeped out everywhere, and the stone path had been eroded in many places. A few hundred more meters and I saw 2 blue flags, a Kampuchean flag, and my long awaited ruins. Preah Vihear, declared a UNESCO site in 2008, was built along a north-south axis, unlike the rectangular plan of most Angkor temples. 

The temple is about 800 meters from beginning to end, and is quite easy to climb, albeit uphill. Many of the steps were actually huge misshapen boulders with gaps throughout. I wonder how strong people in olden days must have been to carry boulders up a mountain to build such an impressive structure. 

  Preah Vihear Temple

I was loitering about near the top tier of ruins and a Khmer soldier was perched on a cliff with his telescope and gestured for me to come over. He said," Look! See Thailand!" I held the telescope to my eye and saw a Thai flag & red roofed sala perched on the Thai side of the mountains, and it was teeming with tourists and a few Thai soldiers.

  Me taking in the view

 It felt weird, like I was spying on my own country or something. I thanked the soldier, turned his telescope back towards him, and began my journey back down the mountain. Another dream, fulfilled. 

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

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. 

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.