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.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
The balance between good and evil.
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| Masjid Raya in Medan |
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| 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.
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| One of the bruises on my hip from the incident |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| At the summit of Gunung Sibayak in Berastagi |
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| 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.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
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
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.
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.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Bits and pieces of Malaysia in 4 days
Took the ferry from Ko Lanta to Ao Nang and met up with Holly at McDonald's, where she was finishing up her cheeseburger. We had planned on meeting at 3ish p.m. but my ferry kept stopping to transfer passengers to other vessels. I got to McDonald's a few minutes before 4 p.m. We were trying to figure out where to go, and walked towards the beach, and found a ticket agent after a few minutes. I asked him about ticket prices, to Kuala Lumpur, Langkawi, and Penang.
We couldn't decide on where to go first, so Holly tossed a coin. Heads, Kuala Lumpur. Tails, Langkawi. Tails won, so off to Langkawi we were the next morning. Our tickets cost 850 baht, and included pick-up at our guesthouse. It was late afternoon, and there was no available transport for the same day so we chose to be picked up at 6:00 a.m. Bad news bears. We ended up going out later in the evening, after we'd cleaned up and stashed our stuff at our guesthouse, J Mansion in Ao Nang. I've stayed at other guesthouses in the area, and J Mansion is, by far, one of the cleanest, and most affordable places I've encountered. Highly recommend it!
Where was I? Oh, yeah, we had dinner overlooking the beach at Aning Restaurant, then to Full Moon Bar for a beer, and then yet another bar (don't remember the name), then finally, back to the guesthouse to sleep for a few hours.
Our pickup service was a bit tardy, not so surprising in Thailand. We drove around for a good 2 hours, retrieving all the passengers on the roster. Between ferries and motorbikes, and tuktuks and songtaews, my hair had formed one giant dreadlock underneath, and I spent most of the minivan ride trying to undo the knot! When we arrived at Bara Port, several hours later, I was still trying to undo my hair...the British girl seated next to me on the minivan took pity on me, and lent me her lint brush. It helped...a little...must. use. conditioner.
We had about 30 minutes to spare at Bara Port, and I changed from gypsy pants into shorts in the smelly bathroom, and Holly went and did the same. We were to line up at 1 p.m. to have our passports stamped by the port officials before boarding the ferry. I'd never been on such a grimy ferry, with so much passenger space. There was a fruit vendor who tried to sell me grapefruit and mango. I told her fruit upsets my stomach, and she backed off. We chose a backrow, and every so often I'd get a whiff of the bathroom in the back of the ferry.
We set sail around 1:30 p.m. and exhaust fumes hit me in the face. I told Holly I was going upstairs to check out the view. We ended up at Pemerikaan Port at around 3:00 p.m. and had to be stamped into Malaysia. All the foreign passport holders seemed to get stamped in promptly, while Asian passport holders got detained and searched for no apparent reason. Holly waited for me for a good 20 minutes while the immigration officer in my line detained the 2 Asian girls in front of me. Finally, it was my turn, and the officer looked at my U.S. passport, stamped it, and handed it back to me. Finally, we were in Malaysia!
Pemerikaan Port is no joke. Langkawi is a duty free island, and there were so many shops, and so many people running rampant. It was sensory overload. We walked around for a bit trying to take it all in, and were propositioned by taxi drivers. 30 ringgit seemed to be rather pricey for a cab ride. We kept walking, towards the KFC and 7-11, and found a cabbie who would take us to Cenang Beach for 25 ringgit. I was smoking a cig, and he told me not to rush. He pulled out some cigarettes as well, and lit one up. They looked like they were wrapped in bamboo, but it was a pale colored leaf, and he said it contained fresh tobacco...
It took about 30-40 minutes from Pemerikaan Port to Cenang Beach, and our driver dropped us off near a bunch of guesthouses. It was really hot that day, and we went from guesthouse to guesthouse, trying to find the best deal. None of the guesthouses were under 50 ringgit. We had just about given up, when I spotted Amani Guesthouse. 45 ringgit per night. There was a huge dead beetle and various other insects on the stairwell on the way up to our room. This was the least of our worries.
The room was threadbare, with patches of paint missing from the walls, stains on the sheets, and burn marks on the furniture. The bathroom was your typical South East Asian bathroom, with no separate shower, and this one didn't even have a sink! The hotel worker was very kind, however, and we were sweaty, and tired, and agreed to stay there for a night, even though I grimaced at the thought of sleeping in that room.
We tried our best to avoid staying in our room, and stayed out for as long as was humanly possible. We found a Thai restaurant called Rose Tea 2, and had some chicken pad thai for dinner, and coffee at Starbucks. Do not order the red velvet cake in Malaysia! I don't know what their idea of cream cheese is, but whatever they're putting in their velvet cake is ruining it. We found a mini mart nearby, and stocked up on cartons of cigarettes. I hadn't seen Pall Malls since Europe, so I got a carton of 'em for 45 ringgit!
The next morning we left our bags at the guesthouse and found a ticket agent straight ahead. Langkawi was beautiful, but very expensive in comparison to the rest of SEA. Our ticket agent was a portly, butch, Malysian woman, who told us it was our fault that everything was getting more and more expensive in Malaysia. She was riot, and made us laugh the whole time we were booking our ferry to Georgetown. 77 ringgit, and we were to be picked up at 4 p.m. We spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, catching some rays, and just chill-axing.
We arrived at the jetty port in Georgetown at around 9 p.m. and shared a cab to Chinatown with a guy we met, who said he lived in French Guyana. I had pre-booked a guesthouse on agoda.com, and our cab driver took us there, but it was so far away from everything, and looked to be in a dodgy neighbourhood. I ended up running upstairs and trying to cancel my reservation, but the lady at the front desk told me I had to contact agoda.com directly, that she couldn't do anything at this point. Ok. I later emailec agoda.com, but haven't heard back from them.
We got dropped off in Chinatown and must've checked out rooms at about 10 different guesthouses. Our friend from French Guyana was carrying a 34 kg backpack, containing all of his dive equipment. I don't know how he managed. Holly and I grew weary and settled on 75 Traveller's Lodge, 40 ringgit per night. Georgetown seemed to be a bit cheaper than Langkawi, with a massive array of street food...from chow fun to dimsum to sushi, and all for about 2 ringgit per order. HALLELUJAH!
In the morning, we walked over to Banana Travel and booked our bus from Georgetown to Kuala Lumpur, 35 ringgit. We explored Georgetown, as we had half the day free to sight see, and decided that China and India had thrown up there, and Georgetown was the byproduct. We came across a beautiful Hindu temple, but alas, it was locked up. We then stumbled upon a Chinese temple, one of the only examples of Teo Chew architecture in the city. Wandered through Little India, and wafts of incense slapped us in the face. Every couple of blocks, we'd find a wrought iron cartoon, some with a story, some freestanding. They were the highlight of Georgetown, to me, as well as the old old old old old examples of architecture, influenced by so many different cultures. It was scorchingly hot and we sat down for iced white coffee at Kaffa Kafa. I'd never seen, or heard of white coffee until I got to Malaysia, but apparently, it's very popular with the locals.
Our pickup service was very very late and I had to call to remind the tour agency. I had bought a Malaysian sim card and it proved to be very useful. We got to our bus, just in the knick of time, and were told to hurry and get on the bus. If our driver hadn't been so very late, then we wouldn't have had to hurry now, would we? We got on the bus, and it was MASSIVE, with more leg room than I've ever had in any bus I've ever been on. The seats had plenty of reclining room and even had an adjustable leg rest?!?! No cupholders though...not that I needed one...I slept the whole way to Kuala Lumpur.
I think our journey took 6-7 hours, and the bus dropped us off in Puduraya. I had contacted a Couchsurfing host and texted him to let him know we were waiting in front of the 7-11 on Jalan Pudu Lama. he showed up in a cab and told us to get in. He lived about 20 minutes outside of KL, JLN Cahaya to be exact, and the total cab fare was 30 ringgit. he was telling us that his landlady was a nice Chinese woman, and he rented a room in their house. on his Couchsurfing profile, he never mentioned that we'd all be sleeping in the same room, but he was nice enough to give up his bed, so that was ok. As an added bonus, we could smoke inside.
We must've been exhausted because Holly and I woke up a little before 1 p.m. the next day. We quickly showered and headed to the train station, and went sightseeing. "Sightseeing" ended up being shown around malls. Times Square and Pavilion. Riveting. (Not really.) We had lunch at Nando's, which I fell in love with in London, and was really excited to see the chain in Kuala Lumpur. After lunch we went over to Trader's Hotel and took the elevator up to the 33rd floor, to Sky Bar. The view from up top was spectacular, and I got up on the cushions to take pictures of the Twin Towers. not so spectacular was the price tag for my iced green tea, 15 ringgit?!?!
It was sprinkling, and then full on raining, as we headed back over to Times Square for Starbuck's coffee, and then over to Pavilion, again, to have dinner at the food court. The food court was massive, and I had a hard time deciding what to eat...I spotted a sign for 'Penang Street Food' in the back, and made a beeline for it. The kiosk was called "Mee Jawa', and their spicy noodles were YUM!!! We ended up at Mac Residence, which was a huge highrise condominium, where one of our friend's friend of a friend of a friend lived.
Apparently it was a Coucsurfing potluck gathering, and the dining room table was covered with food from every nation. We met a Dutch girl, a French girl, some Algerians, and Nigerians, 2 Malaysians, and of course, there was our Couchsurfing host who is Saudi Arabian. A bottle of wine, a bottle of whisky, and off we went to the pubs. lot of beer, lots of dancing, and i got quite friendly with one of the couchsurfer boys?! at some point we left in a taxi and somehow got rerouted from our couchsurfing host's house to a house in Cyberjaya, a good 40 minutes south of Kuala Lumpur. I'm guessing the boy i got friendly with at the bar wanted to see me again. We got there and finished all the booze in the house, and the sun had been up for quite some time. I think it was 8:30 a.m. by the time boy and i made it to his bed. And no, I did not put out for a warm bed to sleep in...
We couldn't decide on where to go first, so Holly tossed a coin. Heads, Kuala Lumpur. Tails, Langkawi. Tails won, so off to Langkawi we were the next morning. Our tickets cost 850 baht, and included pick-up at our guesthouse. It was late afternoon, and there was no available transport for the same day so we chose to be picked up at 6:00 a.m. Bad news bears. We ended up going out later in the evening, after we'd cleaned up and stashed our stuff at our guesthouse, J Mansion in Ao Nang. I've stayed at other guesthouses in the area, and J Mansion is, by far, one of the cleanest, and most affordable places I've encountered. Highly recommend it!
Where was I? Oh, yeah, we had dinner overlooking the beach at Aning Restaurant, then to Full Moon Bar for a beer, and then yet another bar (don't remember the name), then finally, back to the guesthouse to sleep for a few hours.
Our pickup service was a bit tardy, not so surprising in Thailand. We drove around for a good 2 hours, retrieving all the passengers on the roster. Between ferries and motorbikes, and tuktuks and songtaews, my hair had formed one giant dreadlock underneath, and I spent most of the minivan ride trying to undo the knot! When we arrived at Bara Port, several hours later, I was still trying to undo my hair...the British girl seated next to me on the minivan took pity on me, and lent me her lint brush. It helped...a little...must. use. conditioner.
We had about 30 minutes to spare at Bara Port, and I changed from gypsy pants into shorts in the smelly bathroom, and Holly went and did the same. We were to line up at 1 p.m. to have our passports stamped by the port officials before boarding the ferry. I'd never been on such a grimy ferry, with so much passenger space. There was a fruit vendor who tried to sell me grapefruit and mango. I told her fruit upsets my stomach, and she backed off. We chose a backrow, and every so often I'd get a whiff of the bathroom in the back of the ferry.
We set sail around 1:30 p.m. and exhaust fumes hit me in the face. I told Holly I was going upstairs to check out the view. We ended up at Pemerikaan Port at around 3:00 p.m. and had to be stamped into Malaysia. All the foreign passport holders seemed to get stamped in promptly, while Asian passport holders got detained and searched for no apparent reason. Holly waited for me for a good 20 minutes while the immigration officer in my line detained the 2 Asian girls in front of me. Finally, it was my turn, and the officer looked at my U.S. passport, stamped it, and handed it back to me. Finally, we were in Malaysia!
Pemerikaan Port is no joke. Langkawi is a duty free island, and there were so many shops, and so many people running rampant. It was sensory overload. We walked around for a bit trying to take it all in, and were propositioned by taxi drivers. 30 ringgit seemed to be rather pricey for a cab ride. We kept walking, towards the KFC and 7-11, and found a cabbie who would take us to Cenang Beach for 25 ringgit. I was smoking a cig, and he told me not to rush. He pulled out some cigarettes as well, and lit one up. They looked like they were wrapped in bamboo, but it was a pale colored leaf, and he said it contained fresh tobacco...
It took about 30-40 minutes from Pemerikaan Port to Cenang Beach, and our driver dropped us off near a bunch of guesthouses. It was really hot that day, and we went from guesthouse to guesthouse, trying to find the best deal. None of the guesthouses were under 50 ringgit. We had just about given up, when I spotted Amani Guesthouse. 45 ringgit per night. There was a huge dead beetle and various other insects on the stairwell on the way up to our room. This was the least of our worries.
The room was threadbare, with patches of paint missing from the walls, stains on the sheets, and burn marks on the furniture. The bathroom was your typical South East Asian bathroom, with no separate shower, and this one didn't even have a sink! The hotel worker was very kind, however, and we were sweaty, and tired, and agreed to stay there for a night, even though I grimaced at the thought of sleeping in that room.
We tried our best to avoid staying in our room, and stayed out for as long as was humanly possible. We found a Thai restaurant called Rose Tea 2, and had some chicken pad thai for dinner, and coffee at Starbucks. Do not order the red velvet cake in Malaysia! I don't know what their idea of cream cheese is, but whatever they're putting in their velvet cake is ruining it. We found a mini mart nearby, and stocked up on cartons of cigarettes. I hadn't seen Pall Malls since Europe, so I got a carton of 'em for 45 ringgit!
The next morning we left our bags at the guesthouse and found a ticket agent straight ahead. Langkawi was beautiful, but very expensive in comparison to the rest of SEA. Our ticket agent was a portly, butch, Malysian woman, who told us it was our fault that everything was getting more and more expensive in Malaysia. She was riot, and made us laugh the whole time we were booking our ferry to Georgetown. 77 ringgit, and we were to be picked up at 4 p.m. We spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, catching some rays, and just chill-axing.
We arrived at the jetty port in Georgetown at around 9 p.m. and shared a cab to Chinatown with a guy we met, who said he lived in French Guyana. I had pre-booked a guesthouse on agoda.com, and our cab driver took us there, but it was so far away from everything, and looked to be in a dodgy neighbourhood. I ended up running upstairs and trying to cancel my reservation, but the lady at the front desk told me I had to contact agoda.com directly, that she couldn't do anything at this point. Ok. I later emailec agoda.com, but haven't heard back from them.
We got dropped off in Chinatown and must've checked out rooms at about 10 different guesthouses. Our friend from French Guyana was carrying a 34 kg backpack, containing all of his dive equipment. I don't know how he managed. Holly and I grew weary and settled on 75 Traveller's Lodge, 40 ringgit per night. Georgetown seemed to be a bit cheaper than Langkawi, with a massive array of street food...from chow fun to dimsum to sushi, and all for about 2 ringgit per order. HALLELUJAH!
In the morning, we walked over to Banana Travel and booked our bus from Georgetown to Kuala Lumpur, 35 ringgit. We explored Georgetown, as we had half the day free to sight see, and decided that China and India had thrown up there, and Georgetown was the byproduct. We came across a beautiful Hindu temple, but alas, it was locked up. We then stumbled upon a Chinese temple, one of the only examples of Teo Chew architecture in the city. Wandered through Little India, and wafts of incense slapped us in the face. Every couple of blocks, we'd find a wrought iron cartoon, some with a story, some freestanding. They were the highlight of Georgetown, to me, as well as the old old old old old examples of architecture, influenced by so many different cultures. It was scorchingly hot and we sat down for iced white coffee at Kaffa Kafa. I'd never seen, or heard of white coffee until I got to Malaysia, but apparently, it's very popular with the locals.
Our pickup service was very very late and I had to call to remind the tour agency. I had bought a Malaysian sim card and it proved to be very useful. We got to our bus, just in the knick of time, and were told to hurry and get on the bus. If our driver hadn't been so very late, then we wouldn't have had to hurry now, would we? We got on the bus, and it was MASSIVE, with more leg room than I've ever had in any bus I've ever been on. The seats had plenty of reclining room and even had an adjustable leg rest?!?! No cupholders though...not that I needed one...I slept the whole way to Kuala Lumpur.
I think our journey took 6-7 hours, and the bus dropped us off in Puduraya. I had contacted a Couchsurfing host and texted him to let him know we were waiting in front of the 7-11 on Jalan Pudu Lama. he showed up in a cab and told us to get in. He lived about 20 minutes outside of KL, JLN Cahaya to be exact, and the total cab fare was 30 ringgit. he was telling us that his landlady was a nice Chinese woman, and he rented a room in their house. on his Couchsurfing profile, he never mentioned that we'd all be sleeping in the same room, but he was nice enough to give up his bed, so that was ok. As an added bonus, we could smoke inside.
We must've been exhausted because Holly and I woke up a little before 1 p.m. the next day. We quickly showered and headed to the train station, and went sightseeing. "Sightseeing" ended up being shown around malls. Times Square and Pavilion. Riveting. (Not really.) We had lunch at Nando's, which I fell in love with in London, and was really excited to see the chain in Kuala Lumpur. After lunch we went over to Trader's Hotel and took the elevator up to the 33rd floor, to Sky Bar. The view from up top was spectacular, and I got up on the cushions to take pictures of the Twin Towers. not so spectacular was the price tag for my iced green tea, 15 ringgit?!?!
It was sprinkling, and then full on raining, as we headed back over to Times Square for Starbuck's coffee, and then over to Pavilion, again, to have dinner at the food court. The food court was massive, and I had a hard time deciding what to eat...I spotted a sign for 'Penang Street Food' in the back, and made a beeline for it. The kiosk was called "Mee Jawa', and their spicy noodles were YUM!!! We ended up at Mac Residence, which was a huge highrise condominium, where one of our friend's friend of a friend of a friend lived.
Apparently it was a Coucsurfing potluck gathering, and the dining room table was covered with food from every nation. We met a Dutch girl, a French girl, some Algerians, and Nigerians, 2 Malaysians, and of course, there was our Couchsurfing host who is Saudi Arabian. A bottle of wine, a bottle of whisky, and off we went to the pubs. lot of beer, lots of dancing, and i got quite friendly with one of the couchsurfer boys?! at some point we left in a taxi and somehow got rerouted from our couchsurfing host's house to a house in Cyberjaya, a good 40 minutes south of Kuala Lumpur. I'm guessing the boy i got friendly with at the bar wanted to see me again. We got there and finished all the booze in the house, and the sun had been up for quite some time. I think it was 8:30 a.m. by the time boy and i made it to his bed. And no, I did not put out for a warm bed to sleep in...
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