Outbound Flight

Dali, Yunnan, China 11/2008

2008-12-04T06:32:00.000-08:00

About Dali

Dali is one of the ancient cities in China that has been well preserved and is now a big tourist draw. It is a very pretty city surrounded by the old city wall and filled with many pedistrian streets, shops, restaurants, bars, and, of course, tourists. To the west of the city is a small mountain (hill?) range and to the east is a huge lake. Dali is a small city, and while it is obviously a tourist town, it doesn't have that bad feel that a lot of tourist towns have. That is, it doesn't have people running up to you every 10 feet to buy their crap or eat in their restaurant. It feels very relaxed. It also does not feel totally polished and plastic. It does, however, have a ton of middle-aged women who will ask you if you want to smoke ganja (at least, if you are a single guy walking down the foreigner ghetto streets.) On the plus side, no one offered me sex the whole time I was there, and I did not get the ubiquitous calls for "massage" on my hotel phone.

I saw several westerners here, but very few in comparison to the number of Chinese tourists. Still, it was more than I have seen in other places in China.

I was in Dali twice--before and after my trek through Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Things to See

The city wall is quite nice, if incomplete. The gate houses are quite impressive and well restored. You can go up the south gate and walk about a quarter of the way around the city perimeter, which I did and enjoyed. I ran into a couple in wedding attire taking pictures. I seem to run into that a lot in Asia.

There is a pretty little stream (aritificial?) that is very pleasant and soothing. The third hotel I stayed at in Dali was right on the stream.

There is a little market area near the south gate of the wall and another further in. Not being a shopper, I didn't bother to do more than acknowledge that they were there.

The Three Pagodas are abig attractionc just outside of town. I rode past them on a bike one day and decided that they just looked like other pagodas and I wasn't going to bother to spend US$20 just to see a few pagodas. Someone later told me that they were indeed quite impressive.

There is a temple on the hills that I wanted to go to but never got around to. A chairlift takes you up and there are miles of hiking trails. I was going to do this my second time in town, but crappy, misty weather and preoccupation with travel planning prevented it.

The big lake is also an attraction. I biked along the west side one day.

Mainly, the thing to do is just walk around town and absorb the ambiance. And buy stuff if that is your thing.

The Road to Dali

I took a 5 hour bus ride from Kunming, Yunnan, China to Dali. My information from the token English speaking worker at the bus station the previous day was not quite correct so I ended up waiting a better part of an hour for the next bus. It was a pleasant enough ride in spite of the large Chinese guy sitting next to me who spilled over into my seat. There was a bit of scenery as we headed into the hills. There was, unfortunately, entertainment on this trip. Fortunately, it was not blasting at full volume and was in Chinese, meaning I could ignore it if I tried. It was some Jackie Chan movie followed by "Kung Fu Hustle", which is a movie that I like a lot.

We stopped for a bathroom break at a place with a bunch of other buses stopped for the same reason. I did not see another white person there. I was also the only person wearing a short sleeved shirt and no jacket. It actually felt great--my first dose of warm sunshine in a long time.

Unfortunately, there are 2 placed called Dali--Xiaguan (Dali City) and Dali old town. I wanted to go to Dali old town, but knew that the bus was going to Xiaguan. I also knew that there were two local buses going from one to the other. Unfortunately, the direction to the stop for one of these buses was less than specific. I ended up wandering around for probably 40 minutes before finding a bus stop for one of these buses. Half an hour later I was in Dali (old town).

Arrival

Dali has a city wall around it. Most of the stuff of interest is within the walls. Once the bus got within the city walls, I got off the bus along with a bunch of other people.

As soon as I got off the bus, I started to put on my backpacks. While doing so, a bunch of middle-school aged boys walked by, saying "Hello!". I helloed them back and one of them said "Welcome to Dali!" and another said "Welcome to China." A pretty warm welcome. A moment later, one of them came up to me and offered me a bit of street food--a thin flat bread filled with some finely chopped veggies and sauce. I was a bit suspicious, but accepted. They giggled as I started eating. I checked inside to make sure that there was nothing there that shouldn't be. If anything, they might have put a little extra hot sauce in it, but that was lost on me. I thanked them and went on.

I had probably only walked about 10 feet before I was about to pass a couple walking the same way. The guy said "Hello" and we started a little conversation. He was from Nepal and was studying in Xiaguan. His girlfriend was Chinese, and they were visiting Dali for the day. We chatted (while I was eating the snack in one hand, had my guidebook in the other, my rucksack on my back, and my daypack on my front) until we reached a signpost and I had to figure out where I was. They tried to help me get where I was going, and the girl asked a local for information, but in the end, I had the map and the compass, so I figured it out myself. They were heading the opposite direction, so we parted ways there.

That was one of the most friendly introductions to a city that I have ever had and probably had a lot to do with me liking Dali.

Walking toward the hotel area, I saw another white guy carrying a backpack with a an older local woman next to him, animatedly trying to talk to him in Chinese, with him good-naturedly saying "No, thank you, I don't need help." I know that situation. She was a tout trying to get him to hotels. He saw me and saw me smiling at his plight and said to her, "He's looking for a hotel--go help him."

I laughed and said, "Thanks, a lot."

She seemed to think we were together and tried to show us both to the hotels on her brochure--which happened to be two of the places I was going to look at anyway. I kept walking, with her alongside, and the other guy ditched. She figured that I was the horse to bet on and stayed with me.

I let her "guide" me to the first hotel (I knew exactly where it was) but wanted to check out another before going to the other hotel on her list. I could not explain this to her and she asked a local schoolgirl to interpret. The girl asked what the problem was and I told her that there was no problem and explained the situation. She was very helpful and the woman stopped following me--not that I minded her tagging along.

I checked out several hotels (it was low season--plenty of people were watching for people with backpacks to whom they could show their hotels) and eventually decided on MCA Hostel just outside the wall.

The Bike Ride

I was walking through town when the guy working at Dali Cycling asked, in perfect English, if I needed anything. I've had a hard time in China finding people who understood exactly what I was asking, so I took the opportunity to ask him some questions I had about going to Tiger Leaping Gorge. In the end, I decided it would be nice to rent a bike from him and go by the lake.

My plan was to ride the high road (closer to the mountains and less traffic) for an hour after which I would have two hours to ride back before it got dark. I must have been going a lot faster than I thought because I got very far before the hour was up.

I rode past the Three Pagodas and through some uninteresting villages. Then I decided to cross to the low road (nearer the lake and with more traffic) to go back to town. I went down to the lake shore where the only other people were--yep, a couple in wedding attire and a photographer.

Back on the main road, I saw the entrance to a village that had a temple marked on the map, so I took a detour. I was glad that I did--not for the temple, but for the village. I ended up going down narrow dirt roads squeezed between buildings and through a small crowd of old people and kids. I definitey felt like an oddity. I went past a small local market which was quite colorful.

And Along Came a Spider

I was trying to find my through the labrynthian streets of the village back to the main road, when I saw right in my path this huge spider hanging in the air. (Ok, it was only a couple of inches long, but to an arachnaphobe, that is huge.) I tried to swerve out of the way and looked back to see if the spider was still hanging in the air. It was nowhere to be seen. I panicked and started slapping at my leg which was where it would have hit, trying to see it. Unfortunately, that meant that my eyes were not on the road. I side-swiped a parked bike and knocked it over. I just bumped it with my leg, and I'm sure it was fine, but I felt really bad knowing that that bike probably represented a major investment to its owner. I got off my bike, picked up the other bike, and apologized profusely (well, as profusely as I could knowing only one phrase of apology in Chinese) to the owner who was sitting just inside the door with a couple of friends. They just smiled and dismissed my apologies. I rode off feeling like an idiot. They surely must have been wondering how this foreigner could possibly have run into a parked bicycle.

The Ride Back

The ride back was kind of a bitch. The sun was going down, so it got cold and windy. It was much harder riding back than riding out, and I was getting a bit tired. The scenery was very nice though--fields just off the road with mountains and lake in the background.

I passed several other people on bikes making their way back to town, all Chinese. We kept passing each other to the point that we began to recognize each other and wave as we passed.

By the time I finally got back to town, I was so ready to get rid of the bike.

The Food

There are some interesting foods to try in Dali. The Bai cuisine tends to be a bit on the sour side, but not bad. The Napalese food is interesting too--I had few yak dishes.

Departure

After a few days in Dali, I figured I had better get going since I had only a week left on my Chinese visa. I got a bus ticket to Tiger Leaping Gorge and was on my way.

Cameron Highlands, Malaysia 07/16/08-07/18/08

2008-08-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

The Cameron Highlands are hilly areas in the higher elevations of central Malaysia. There are many hiking trails there, as well as tea plantations, and strawberry farms, many of which offer tours. On the ride to Tanah Rata, the main town and the place where I stayed, I passed by a tea field. It was very pretty, but having already gone through tea fields in more scenic parts of India, I wasn't really interested in exploring them any further here.

Tanah Rata had good Indian food, but as far as hiking trails and water falls, I was sorely disappointed. Before going hiking I went to the information booth in town to get the latest information on the trails and see which would be the best to take. This was pointless because, although the information booth was open, it was deserted. I went there again after my day of hiking and there was still no one there.

Stuck in Kuala Lumpur

When traveling by bus from Melaka to Tanah Rata, I had to change buses in Kuala Lumpur. Since I could not be sure when the first bus would arrive, I could not reserve a seat on the second bus.

When I got to the Pudaraya bus terminal in KL at 12:30, I immediately tried to book a ticket to Tanah Rata. The next bus was scheduled to leave at 1:00pm. That would have been perfect, except the bus was full. I had to wait for the 3:30 bus. Crap.

I checked my bag at the bus station and wandered across Chinatown, hopped on a train, and went to Kuala Lumpur City Center (the mall attached to the Petronus towers) for lunch. I had bad Indian food and a crepe. I took my time and headed back to the bus station.

I hopped on the bus, which was 25 minutes late leaving.

Arrival

When I got to Tanah Rata, I checked into my hotel--KRS Pines. I had hoped for quiet. It was quiet except that every sound both inside and outside were transmitted directly into my room--exactly what I was trying to avoid. Oh, well. It wasn't that bad. Other than that, the place was fine.

After checking in, I went out to eat. It was already 8:30, but there were several places open. This is definitely a area that caters to tourists. I ate at an Indian place which was pretty good. I ate a lot of Indian food in Tanah Rata.

Hiking

The next day I got up and left to go hiking at 10:30. After failing to get any information at the tourist information office, I decided to take trail #9 to Robinson Falls. It was was just OK--a bit disappointing. It would have been better if you could actually see the falls through the trees and brush.

I continued on #9 to trail #8. This trail basically started straight up, rough and slippery. The whole trail was very steep with no views to compensate for it. Up and up and up and down and down and down and up and up and up and down and down and up and up. I was getting worried about how long it would take to get back. (I had food, water, a cell phone, and an emergency blanket.) I did not want to turn around because the trail I came up was not one I would want to go down again.

I ran into a young British guy coming the other direction and he said it was about two hours back. Crap. I had already been hiking two hours and I wanted out. Nonetheless, I felt much better for having seen him. It made me feel more secure to see someone coming from where I was going and getting a sense of how bad it would be.

A few minutes later, at the peak, I ran into an older traveler. He seemed to know the area. I asked him which was the best way down, and he told me to take trail #3 to trail #6, which I eventually did. It was good that I ran into him--the maps did not show #6 (or rather, they did show it, but they showed the old #6 which was miles away.) The guy stopped for lunch there and I stopped and ate a muffin and chatted a bit. He was originally from America but seems to have been on the road for years.

It was still a long trek back with much up and down, but not as much as trail #8. I saw Parit falls on the way back to town. It was a joke. A brown drop that was nothing to look at.

With the exception of one spot in the boggy bottom of a valley near the end of my hiking, the trails were easy to follow.

All and all, a very disappointing day of hiking. I decided that I would leave for Penang the next day.

I went back to the information desk when I got back to town. It was still empty.

An Even Worse Walk

After lunch, I went back to my hotel and rested a bit. I saw the young woman who works there and asked her about suggested hikes. The one she pointed out was to another mountain. I did not want another one of those hikes. I decided that I would just walk down the road to a scenic viewpoint shown on the map in Lonely Planet.

I started walking to the viewpoint that was supposedly a mile out of town. I walked and walked along the highway and never found it. I don't know if I went the wrong direction or if it was just not what I expected to be and I missed it. I did not see the tea fields that I expected. When I turned around it started raining. I was drenched and my right shoe developed a hole in the bottom. A metal bar was sticking out and clicking on the asphalt as I walked. The shoe was acting like a pump--every step pumped water into my shoe. I felt like a fool walking along that highway.

When I got to the hotel, I was soaked.

Departure

The bus ride out of the highlands from Tanah Rata to Penang was not as scenic as the ride coming from KL. Ugly buildings or stripped ground spoiled the scenery in a lot of places. I don't see the big attraction of the Cameron Highlands. While sitting on the bus, I lamented that Malaysia had been kind of disappointing so far.

Melaka, Malaysia 07/14/08-07/16/08

2008-08-04T07:26:00.000-07:00

I left Kuala Lumpur and headed to Melaka. Several Malaysians that I met in KL indicated that that was a place to go. The guidebooks seemed to agree. After going there, I don't see the attraction. Yes, the city is historically significant, but if you are not a Malaysian history buff, I wouldn't bother going. Don't get me wrong, it is a pleasant city. It just isn't that interesting to me. Since I visited, the city was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site along with Penang, Malaysia. Having seen its colonial neighborhoods, I was a bit surprised by this.

Arrival

In Kuala Lumpur, I got up packed, did a little shopping before checking out, grabbed a McDonald's burger (sad, isn't it?) and then went to the Pudaraya bus station a few blocks from my hotel in Chinatown. This bus station is pretty large and busy building. The teaming masses make it seem a little chaotic, but it is fairly organized--definitely not like the total chaos of many Central American bus stations.

I got on the bus, no problem, but almost got off a half hour early. Of the 20 or 30 people on the bus, I was the only one taking it all the way to Melaka city, which really surprised. Fortunately, the bus driver, who did not speak English, got my attention and said, "Melaka Sentral?" to which I said, "Yes", and he waved me back on the bus (which I had just stepped off while following everyone else. I saw no sign at the station, so I assumed it was Melaka. I never did find out what station that was.

When I got to Melaka, I took local bus 17 as described in Lonely Planet and got off within a couple of blocks of the hotels I wanted to look at. Traveler's Lodge was full. Uh oh. I didn't think things would be busy. I grabbed the last room available at Samudra Inn. It was a double with air con, but shared bath. Oh, well, only RM 40 (about US$12.50). I was worried it would be too noisy--there is TV down the hall--but no noise penetrated my room except for traffic, which was not even that bad. My room had a balcony overlooking the street. When I had the guesthouse do my laundry, it was dried on a line on the balcony from which I could pluck it when it was dry.

After getting in the hotel, I walked around town, hoping to find a late (4:30) lunch, but everything seemed closed or deserted. I ended up eating a curry puff from a place in a mall.

My aimless walk around town left me very disappointed. I did see the town square, surrounded by historical buildings. The theme is definitely red.

Seeing the Sights

The next day, I decided to take another walk around town a little less aimlessly. With guidebook in hand, I hit the points of interest. After yesterday, I was not expecting much, but it turned out to be OK. The weather was overcast and threatening to rain, which was actually very nice because I did not have sun in my face and sweat pouring off of me like yesterday.

I had lunch at the Newton hawker center--a big open air food court. The place was practically deserted.

I went to the ruins of the fort and the church. They were fine, but nothing extraordinary. I walked through the old street in Chinatown which Lonely Planet said had well-preserved buildings. I would not have noted anything about it if I had walked down it accidentally.

I walked quite a way around the city, and eventually made it to the old Chinese cemetery, which is on a big hill. That was actually one of the nicer things that I saw today. There were nice view from the top. (Tomb with a view?) Unfortunately, I got turned around when I left the cemetery. I was headed the opposite way that I wanted to be going and ended up going all the way around the cemetery--a few kilometers.

I decided to go to the waterfront. It is amazing how they treat the ocean like it isn't there. It isn't mentioned in tourism information, there is nothing looking out on the water, no waterfront restaurants, nothing except for the mosque, which I will talk about later. They seem to make a big deal about the "river" (which seems more like a drainage canal) but not the ocean.

Mysterious Island

I decided to take the causeway to the island just offshore. There is a big mosque there. When I got to the entry of the causeway, I saw a fence across the road. There were two lanes each direction on the causeway, but the fence was only open for one lane. There was a sign that said "Danger", but a few cars were going in. I saw a few people on the side of the causeway. I went in.

Just past the fence, there was some marshy land to the right. As I looked over, something hopped about in the water. My first thought was that they were big frogs. When I saw them, I realized that they were actually fish. They hopped around quickly on their fins and poked their eyes above water. Their dorsal fins were drooping down to one side. Weird.

A bit later, a tour bus stopped on the causeway and disgorged a bunch of Asian tourists with cameras, some of whom proceeded to snap pictures of the not-particularly-attractive seascape. I figured since there was a tour bus, it must be OK to go on.

I walked on, only occasionally seeing a car or motorbike go by. There were maybe two or three people on the shore of the island beyond the causeway. As I went on, I saw blocks of these big yellow apartment buildings. There must have been scores of them. They were all deserted. It was creepy. I saw a few people sweeping and doing some construction work on the road. At one point, I got a glimpse into a courtyard among the buildings and saw what looked like police doing practice for riot control. Other than that, it looked like a ghost town until I got to the mosque. I can only assume that the buildings were still under construction, although they looked complete except for garage doors and an occasional unterminated wire. It looked like some of the paint was old.

I had seen the mosque from the causeway, and it looked very nice. It was bright and colorful, looking very new. As I got closer, it looked even more impressive. It was set right on the sea. There was a fence around it. Everything within the fence was very manicured and beautiful. Everything outside the fence was very desolate and deserted. I stopped to take a picture when the late afternoon singing came from the minaret. This made the already creepy area seem even more haunted. I decided to take a short video to try to capture the feel of it.

I walked close to the mosque, onto the grounds, and took some photos. I did not feel comfortable actually going to the mosque. Being a tourist in a religious place--be it Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, or whatever--always feels odd to me. There were only a few people at the mosque. I could see through the mosque to the sea beyond.

While walking back over the causeway as I left the island, there were 4 people doing a photo shoot on the side closed to traffic. There was a woman who appeared to be in very modern-style wedding dress, a man in a formal jacket and jeans, a woman fussing over the woman in the wedding dress, and the cameraman. It was very odd.

I walked back off the island, grabbed a Slurpee at 7-11, and went home.

Fun Food

After using the net, I went to Capital Satay, which was highly recommended by Lonely Planet. I was worried that it might be closed, since it was almost 9pm. It was full. I walked around the block and came back to find that there was a table free. It was fun. I went to the bar and got skewers of various meats, tofu, stuffed veggies, little boiled eggs, etc. and put them in the pot of boiling satay sauce in the middle of the table. I ended up going back to the bar two more times. It was 70 sen per skewer and my bill was RM 23 (about $7.25), so I guess I ate about 35 skewers. (Granted, many of them did not have a whole lot on them.)

Departure

The next morning, I packed, caught the local bus to the bus station, and bought a ticket to Kuala Lumpur on the bus leaving half an hour later. The Melaka bus station is easily navigable and not at all chaotic. I booked a room in Tanah Rata, my final destination, over the phone while waiting for the bus.

The ride to KL was nothing exciting. I used the time to read more in my guide book for trip planning in Thailand and Cambodia.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia 07/03/08-07/14/08

2008-08-04T07:19:00.000-07:00

Overall Impressions of Kuala Lumpur and Malaysia

From the moment I landed in Kuala Lumpur, I could feel the difference. It was much less hassle and seemed much more developed. This feeling would continue to grow as I saw more of the city. Compared to most of southeast Asia (Singapore excluded), Malaysia seemed more developed. Kuala Lumpur was a very easy city to get around as a visitor. It has a good, modern transit system making it easy to get from place to place. (I was told by one person that it is good for tourists but not so good for people who live there.) Another convenience for me was that it seemed that everyone spoke English. Not just in Kuala Lumpur but wherever I went in Malaysia.

Malaysia seemed like a very pleasant place but didn't seem too exciting to me. I should add that I did not go to the east coast of Malaysia which is supposedly where it is really shines. Kuala Lumpur has plenty of nightlife, but it did not seem like the kind I tend to enjoy. It seemed a bit pretentious. (When I later told someone in Penang that Kuala Lumpur seemed a little pretentious, his response was, "Aren't all big cities?")

Kuala Lumpur seemed nice and orderly and civilized, but not so much so that you couldn't find markets and street food. I would liken it to Singapore but without the stick shoved quite so far up its butt.

I met several people in Kuala Lumpur, and all of them were nice enough, but none seemed to stick. When comparing Kuala Lumpur with Jakarta, I would say that Kuala Lumpur is a much nicer city, but I had a whole lot more fun in Jakarta. It was easy to make friends in Jakarta and Bangkok, and while it was easy to meet people in Kuala Lumpur, it was not so easy to make friends. Some would say that it's a lot like San Francisco that way.

Arrival

I flew from Jakarta to Kuala Lumpur on Air Asia--a discount airline. As such, I landed in the Low Cost Carrier Terminal (LCCT) instead of the usual international airport. It was the most hassle-free airport arrival experience that I have ever had in Asia. I zipped through immigration and got waved through customs. I didn't even have to fill out a landing card or customs form. When I got through customs, there was no one. No hordes of touts trying to get me to go to their hotels. No taxi drivers trying to get me into their scam cabs! I could not believe it. Not a single person came up to me. I asked the information desk where I could get a SIM card for my phone, got cash at an ATM, got my SIM card (a couple of dollars), got a taxi voucher into town (US$15-20), and was out of the airport in a few minutes. I could get used to that.

Even the taxi ride into town was pleasant. I had nice chat with the driver who used to work for an airline doing the KL-Tokyo-LA route, so he knew California.

While I was waiting at the baggage carousel in the airport, someone came up to me and asked if my name was Steve. I said, no, but it was close. (People often remember my name as Steve or Scott or some other name that begins with S.) I told him my name, and he recalled it. He said that we had met at Red Dragon (a club in Jakarta) twice. "Ian?" I asked. It was him. He was an acquaintance of Pavis's. He was on the same plane as me, visiting a friend in KL. We chit chatted briefly before he headed to customs. Small world.

The Neighborhoods

Kuala Lumpur has several notable neighborhoods. My logding for the first few days was in Little India. I stayed in the Coliseum hotel. It was an old building with a great facade, but as a logding, it was pretty dumpy. Definitely budget digs--shared bath, no A/C, constant traffic noise. The room was open at the top of the wall for ventilation, meaning every sound in the hall was transmitted into the room. What do you expect for less than US$10? My room did have some interesting old furnishings and a private wash basin. In spite of its shortcomings, I felt pretty happy there.

After I checked-in to the hotel, I went out in search of dinner. It was pretty cool to turn a corner and see the Petronus towers glowing in the distance or the the Kuala Lumpur tower lit up around another corner.

Little India was a pleasant enough neighborhood, if a bit noisy. Some tasty Indian food. It took me a while to find an internet cafe and a carton of milk, though. I never did find a place to have my laundry done.

A few days later, I moved to Chinatown. Chinatown was much more busy and crowded and rough around the edges. There is a street that becomes a night market when the sun goes down. My hotel, Chinatown Inn, was in the middle of that street. It took a while to get in and out of the hotel because I had to wade through the market to get anywhere.

One of the other neighborhoods of note is Bukit Bintang. This is an area of nice restaurants, clubs, and megamalls full of posh designer stores. I ended up going to a couple of clubs here. Not my cup of tea. I can't say that I enjoyed going out in Kuala Lumpur. Granted, I only went to a couple of places. One problem with going to a bar in Malaysia is that the sin tax makes liquor very expensive. Expect something like $9 for a cocktail. I was a bit pissed that the first place I went (Blue Boy--not a posh place at all) charged prices like that and then watered down my drink so much that it was essentially water. You can either charge outrageous prices or water down the drinks, but not both.

The Sights

I met up with someone and went to the Kuala Lumpur City Center (KLCC) which has a huge, expensive mall and is also where the twin towers are located. There is a pleasant park setting outside with fountains and a small pool for kids. The Petronus towers (referred to as "the twin towers" in KL) are pretty impressive. It doesn't seem like one of the tallest buildings in the world when you are next to it.

After lunch at KLCC, we headed to the KL tower--a communications tower a few blocks from the twin towers. We took the elevator to the observation deck for a bird's-eye view of Kuala Lumpur. It also offered great views of the twin towers. I have heard that the view is better here than in the twin towers, and I believe it. For one, you can see the twin towers. For another, the observation bridge on the twin towers is nowhere near the top. It is also kind of hard to get tickets to the twin towers--they are first come first served and go quickly in the morning. I never did get up the twin towers.

I spent a day walking around Kuala Lumpur's colonial sections. I walked from my hotel in Chinatown past the cool old train station with tons of spires. It looked more like a mosque than a train station. I walked past the Masjid Negara (National Mosque), but could not go in because I was not muslim. I walked past the independence square--a large open space surrounded by well-preserved colonial buildings. Then I went over to the Masjid Jamek near where I stayed in Little India. I could have gone in, but I think it might have required some extra clothes.

An Exodus of Sisters

Near Masjid Jamek, I took a picture of the big fountain statue of what looked like pitcher plants. While taking photos, a guy asked if I wanted him to take my picture with the fountain. I declined, since it wasn't all that interesting. I ran into him again a few moments later as we waited for the street crossing light. He started talking to me. He asked where I was from and told me that he was from Indonesia near Ubud. He said his sister was going to Florida for her final year of college. He asked me stuff about costs in the US and the like. Then he asked if I could spend some time talking with his sister and his grandmother--to give them more information and calm his grandmother's concerns. I was suspicious. Not only am I suspicious when a stranger on the street asks me to come to his home, it sounded eerily like the story that a guy in Bangkok gave me which seemed to be totally a scam. I told the guy that I had stuff to do that day and in the end came clean that I was not comfortable with going home with someone I just met in the street. He did not push it and I went on. He seemed honest enough, but then, if it was a scam, it wouldn't work very well if he seemed suspicious.

But wait, there's more. On my way into KLCC the next day, a woman stopped me and complimented me on my earring. This seemed like a contrived reason to talk to me. Then she asked where I was from. When I told her, she asked if it was near Santa Clara. I said yes. She said her sister was moving there very soon. This was sounding familiar. She was with a couple of other women and they seemed to have just been shopping. She asked if I could spend some time with her sister today. I said I was kind of busy today. She asked about tomorrow. I came clean with her and told her that I just didn't feel comfortable going with people that come up to me in the street. She said something to the effect that not all Malaysians are scum. I told her that I would give her my number, and I would be happy to give any information that I can over the phone. Needless to say, I never got a phone call.

I am really curious to know what the deal is. In each case, I was in tourist-heavy areas. Each person seemed to start talking with me by intent, rather than by chance. Unlike most scammers, they did not set off the "Watch out for this person" alarm. (Well, neither of the ones in KL--the guy in Bangkok a few years ago totally did.) I find it hard to imagine that as soon as someone (always a sister) finds out that they are going to America, their siblings scour the streets for American tourists to get more information. I mentioned these incidents to Malaysians that I was hanging out with and they were very surprised.

Holy Hindus, Batman! (No, wait, that would be the "bat cave".)

I took a bus trip a little way outside of KL to visit the Batu Caves. These are a series of caverns containing Hindu temples. Not as impressive as the Buddhist temples in the Marble Mountains in Vietnam, but still pretty cool.

Switch to Liquid Detergent!

I was having trouble finding a good place to get my laundry done. I ended up taking it to a nearyby hostel (the Red Dragon Backpacker's Hostel) to be cleaned so I would have clothes for the weekend. It came back covered with streaks of undissolved laundry detergent. Surely, the person folding the clothes had to see it. I took it back. The young Malay guy at the desk did exactly what he should have: apologized, sympathized, and offered to rewash the clothes. Then his manager came in and got all Indian on me. He decided it was more important to start an argument and deny responsibility than to resolve the situation. The situation that had already been resolved by his underling got unresolved, and he ended up giving me my money back. If he hadn't insisted on being difficult, he would have kept the money and just rewashed half a load of laundry. I really wish self-service laundries were popular in Asia. It would be so much simpler to just spend a couple of hours doing it myself than dropping it off and waiting a day.

I Guess You Can't Be a Backpacker Without a Scruffy Beard

I went to trim my beard and fried my beard trimmer because I forgot to use the voltage converter. I looked in a lot of places and asked around, but there don't seem to be beard trimmers anywhere in Malaysia. (I might think that this was related to the whole Muslim facial hair thing, but there were plenty of razors and electric shavers.) If I had been looking for a pair of Bruno Mali shoes, a Prada bag, or some Fendi sunglasses, I could have found them in 5 minutes. Useful things are much harder.

Travel Hints from Helois

I did add one useful item to my travel arsenal: a small squeegee. One thing that has always annoyed me about Asia is the idea that bathrooms are expected to be puddles of water. The bathroom is the shower stall. Anytime you set foot in the bathroom, you come out with wet feet. By squeegeeing the bathroom floor after showering, I mostly eliminated this peeve.

Back to Jakarta, 06/27/08-07/03/08

2008-07-23T22:34:00.000-07:00

After posting my blog for Kuta, Bali, I realized that I forgot to use my "I got bombed in Bali" joke--a joke as tasteful as Kuta itself. Oh, well. There is probably someone there selling T-shirts with that written on it.

I flew from Bali back to Jakarta. I just planned to hang out there with friends for a few days, maybe see a few sites that I did not see the first time. That's pretty much what I did. I managed to get on TV, much to my embarrassment. At least, I assume that it made it onto TV. I was fortunate enough not to see it. Hopefully, no one who knew me saw it either.

Hotels

Before I arrived in Jakarta I decided that I would book a decent hotel before arriving instead of staying in a flophouse. The Ibis hotel was nice enough, but it was inconveniently located (in a neighborhood called Slipi) and required a taxi to do anything. Not worth the extra money (a little over US$35 a night after discounts). I ended up leaving it for a crappier but better situated and somewhat cheaper (but still overpriced--around US$30 a night) hotel a few days later. For lodging, Jakarta seems to be really bad value compared to other Asian cities.

I Wish I Could Sleep That Soundly

One night I was at my hotel (the more expensive one) and I told my friend that I needed to get some bottled water (since you cannot drink tap water). We went outside the hotel gate to a little portable shop on the sidewalk just outside. (Think of a newspaper stand.) The guy was sleeping in front of his shop. My friend talked to him to try to wake him up. No response. Louder talking. No response. A light touch. No response. A light shake. No response. A firm shake. There we go. He finally woke up. My friend and I were both laughing at this point at how hard this guy was to wake up. It seems like a little thing, but as it was happening, I was thinking, "This is the stuff that makes travel interesting."

The Jakarta Fair, the Shore, and Colonial Jakarta

On this visit to Jakarta I went with my friend Angga to the Jakarta Fair, which was just some big shopping expo in the convention center. Nothing too exciting. The next day we went to the shore on the north side of town. It is OK, with bunches of people and food shops and kind of a carnival atmosphere. Then we went to the colonial part of town which was close by. It was nice, but nothing overly exciting. We had lunch on the square there at Batavia Cafe--a grand old restaurant. We sat at a window on the second floor and looked out over the square where there was some function involving speakers and the like. Plenty of people in different regional garb.

Taman Mini Park and My 15 Minutes of Fame

The next day, Angga and I went to Taman Mini Park, which was kind of cool. It is a huge park filled with buildings built in the styles of each of the states of Indonesia. It also has an Imax theater in a giant gold snail shell where we watched a movie about sardines. It was in Bahasa Indonesia, so I didn't understand a word of it.

To get to the park, we took the busway, which seemed to take forever and was extremely hot. The last part of the trip was in this little minivan that acts as sort of a cross between a public bus and a shuttle. We decided that we would take a taxi when we left.

We walked around the buildings in the park, and in front of one, there were a young man and woman in front of a small camera crew. On TV in southeast Asia, I have seen several shows where there are these energetic MTV-like personalities going around to places of interest talking to people. It looked like that kind of thing. Angga was several steps ahead of me and walked past behind them. As I walked past, I saw one of the crew point back at me. Crap. I knew I was in trouble then. I kept walking, hoping nothing would happen. Angga looked back and saw the "Oh, no!" expression on my face. Then as I walked up the steps to the next building the crew came running up to me. The two people in front of the camera stood on either side of me.

"Do you speak Bahasa Indonesia?" the young man asked.

"No," I said, surely looking a bit aprehensive, but smiling.

They each introduced themselves (I forgot their names even as they said them) but did not ask me my name.

"Where are you from?" the man asked.

"San Francisco, California, America," I said.

"America!" he exclaimed. "Do you like xxxxx music?" he asked. I do not remember what kind of music he said.

"I have never heard of it," I replied.

"Ok," he said. "You have to choose one of these two song. 'Xxxxxxx' or 'Sylvia'." "Xxxxxx" was some Indonesian sounding name. I chose it.

"Aaaaaahhhh! You choose 'Xxxxxx'!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," I said.

He started swivelling his hips and said, "Can you do this?"

I said, "No, I draw the line there," smiling through all of this, but probably not seeming that into it.

Then he said, "Ok. Can you say, 'XXxxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx' for our audience?"

I asked him to repeat it, tried to say it, and before I got to the end, I needed more help.

Then he and the woman said some phrase while sweeping their arms from left to right. The guy asked, "Can you do this with us?"

They repeated it, and I did it with them, repeating the phrase as well (although I may have messed up a syllable or two.)

Then they thanked me, we shook hands, I said it was nice to meet them, and I walked to Angga who was a safe distance away.

"That was SO weird!" I said to him. Then he asked if I had a TV in my room and started talking about wanting to see me on TV. I told him that I hoped we didn't. And even more so, I hoped that no one I knew saw me either. Of course, this had to happen on laundry day when I was walking around in the worst clothes that I own. (I have this blue pair of pants that makes me look like a gas station attendant and a synthetic T-shirt that is a little worse for wear.)

And the Rest

I didn't reconnect with everyone in Jakarta. In my previous Jakarta blog entry, I forgot to mention a brother and sister that I met a couple of times named Punch and Judy. They did not understand why I found it amusing that there are a brother and a sister with those names.

While in Jakarta, I also spent time with Jojo, sampling food and doing more karaoke. I didn't see Pavis--the guy with whom I went clubbing the last time I was in Jakarta--but he did give me a call. He told me that someone was chatting with him online who, upon finding out that Pavis lived in America, asked Pavis if he knew me. My total time in Jakarta has only been a few days, and I managed to come up in conversation between strangers chatting online. Very weird. For a city with almost 9 million people, it seems to be a very small world.

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia 06/25/08-06/27/08

2008-07-23T22:23:00.001-07:00

In many ways, Ubud, Bali is the opposite of Kuta, Bali. Instead of stall after stall of crappy souvenirs and obscene T-shirts, you have art galleries. Instead of people wandering the streets selling drugs or women, people wandering the streets are selling paintings. Instead of Hard Rock Cafe and drunken night clubs, there are quiet restaurants and moss covered temples. Sandy beaches are replaced with rice fields and green hills. Although there are plenty of tourists, there are no hordes. Raucous is replaced with relaxed.

Ubud might be too low-key for some, but I liked it. The town was pleasant enough, and walking through the greenery beyond was better. The moisture seemed to make everything green. All of the concrete had at least some tinge of green to it from moss and the like. So many of the buildings looked ancient, with courtyards and gated walls and shrines instead of just being concrete boxes. Even my US$7 a night hotel struck me as impressive. (The room, not so much.)

The one thing that did get old were the constant calls of "Transport?" from all of the people with motorbikes on the roadside.

From Kuta, Bali I took the Perama shuttle to Ubud. It was supposed to take and hour but ended up taking two becuase, due to a mistake, once we got through town, we had to go back again to pick more people up. You can imagine that some people were not too happy about that.

After settling in to my hotel, I walked around Ubud and had lunch. I walked out of town to the ridge walk, which was very pleasant. The trail started at a Hindu temple along a stream and went up from there. There were several young couples there pitching woo.

After the ridge trail, I tried to find the trail along the river. I walked along roads, some tiny, up stairs guarded by statues of gods and lions, and on tiny dirt footpaths through rice fields. It was all very cool.

I got to another major road and was clearly lost. Someone offered directions and I inadvertantly acquired a guide. I don't generally like having guides, so this was more irritating than helpful. It was the wrong trail anyway. I would have enjoyed it much better without him. The river view was fine, with the terraced rice fields. I got a bit muddy.

The next day, I decided where my next destination would be. Surprisingly, it was back to Jakarta and then to Malaysia. I was going to skip the rest of Indonesia. I know that I had only scratched the surface of Indonesia, but it felt like it was time to go. I cannot see everything everywhere, and I need to guard against burnout. At that moment, I needed a city. A place where I was anonymous and not a tourist to be focused on. I wanted to be in a place where if tourism dried up, the town would not blow away.

I had lunch at Warung Ibu Oka which is famous for its babi guleng (roasted pig). In fact, that seemed to be pretty much all that they served. The babi guleng was very greasy but very tasty. It even had something on it that seemed an awful lot like crumbled blood sausage, which I haven't had for decades.

After lunch, I walked to the Monkey Forest. There were certainly tons of monkeys. The park managers did not seem to disuade people from feeding the monkeys. It was a nice forest. There was a temple up top, and lower, by the stream, there were some lizard statues, a stone bridge, and a few other structures. The trees overhead had vines hanging down from them.

While going down the stairs to the stream, there was a woman whose hand was being held by a monkey. He would not let her go. When she tried to slowly pull away, he bit at her, even breaking the skin a little. She had no food to give him. Eventually, he let her go. It made me even more wary of them than I was. There were a lot of people in that park that seemed to forget that these were wild animals.

The next morning, I took a shuttle to the airport and flew back to Jakarta. On the flight, I saw Gunung Bromo and surroundings from the plane. It was really cool. There was a break in the clouds just so that I could see that. Then the clouds closed in again.

Kuta, Bali, Indonesia 06/21/08-06/25/08

2008-07-23T22:11:00.000-07:00

Is your motto "Party 'til you puke"? Do you think Hard Rock Cafe is just the coolest thing? Have I got the place for you--Kuta, Bali. For the most part, the only locals you will see are the ones serving you or trying to sell you things.

Did you ever find yourself on a jungle beach thinking, "If only there were somewhere I could buy a T-shirt that was both obscene and insulting. Or maybe a penis carved out of wood." Well, you will never find yourself lacking those things here. Crap stalls o'plenty. As with most beach destinations you can find your T-shirts, souvenirs, sunglasses and beachwear, and being a developing country, you also have your bootleg CDs and DVDs. Massage is popular here. Presumably, some of it is legit. I expect that the women who ride around on motorbikes after midnight asking if you want a massage are not.

Here is a transcript of a typical walk down the street for me in Kuta: "Massage?", "No", "Massage?", "No", "Massage?", "No", "Taxi?", "No", "Massage?", "No", "Drugs?", "No", "Women?", "No", "'Shrooms?", "No". I left out the "Mistuuuuuuh" that often preceded the questions.

Oh, yeah. 'Shrooms. The area is known for magic mushrooms.

The heart of Kuta is, of course, the beach. Along the beach is a tree-lined walkway, then a road, and on the other side of the road is commerce. Fast food, hotels, bars, hawker centers, food carts, convenience stores, etc. Beyond this is a warren of alleys lined with kiosks and shops, massage places, hotels, bars, restaurants, travel agencies, internet cafes, etc. Beyond that is the next major street which is the club and bar zone. A bit to the side of that is the fru-fru shopping zone.

When I arrived at the bus station in Denpasar at 10pm, I shared a taxi with a young Finnish couple that were on the bus with me. I had to haggle a bit. (Funny, I seem to be better at that when there are other people involved.) We also went to check out a hotel together. It was down a long, winding alley between the beach and the party zone. Although I was not impressed by Kuta, I do like the hotel selection there. The place I stayed was a nice big brick building with a great pool area, a lush courtyard, an open dining area leading to the open lobby, and even a Hindu shrine. My room was immaculate and modern with air-con, cable TV, a good balcony, and cost about US$20. It was far enough from the mayhem to be very quiet.

Having been on the bus all day, I was starving. It was after midnight, so I asked the friendly hotel clerk if he could suggest a place to go that would still be open and was not American fast food. He pointed me in the direction of the club zone. This little foray would be my introduction to Kuta.

I made my way down the alleys to the club street. From the first glimpse, I saw that Kuta was everything that I feared it would be but hoped it wouldn't be. The street was packed with drunken white people stumbling in and out of clubs and bars. If you took a picture of that street, you would not be able to tell it from any other party strip in the world. While walking down the street looking for a restuarant, I was offered pot, mushrooms, and hookers. That first few minutes there set the town for the rest of my visit.

I was having a pizza craving, so eventually, I settled in an open air restaurant with pizza on the menu. I was the only person there. Before I even ordered, this guy sat at my table without so much as looking at me and started looking at a menu. There were 20 empty tables in the restaurant. The waitress came back and he ordered, still not acknowledging that I was there. I was really curious to see what this guy was up to. This was not normal behavior. Eventually, he started talking. I was polite, but not warm, waiting for the sales pitch or the angle. We just ended up talking. The conversation was fine, if a bit odd. He told me that he was originally from Nigeria. His family fled to LA several years ago and he is now living in Jakarta. He has a girlfriend in LA who was visiting. She was asleep back at the hotel. He decided to go out and do some clubbing while she was asleep. We talked through the whole meal--politics, relationships--but it never felt quite natural. I was still waiting for the surprise. None came. We paid our bills parted company.

The next day, I took a walk along the beach. It was OK--very long, very wide. It had a lot of families as well as 20-somethings. There were definitely a lot of young, attractive people. It wasn't great for swimming though--the waves were better for surfing than swimming. Even though the beach looked just fine, for some reason I found it all depressing. Maybe it was just because I knew what was on the other side of the street from the beach. Thankfully, that stuff did not encroach on the beach--no bars blasting music or any of that stuff. A few drinks sellers and surf-board renters and not much else.

In the evening, I met my friend James. James was the reason I planned to be in Kuta at that time. He was nearby with his coworkers on some kind of "team building" trip. James and I met in 2002 in California when he was doing an internship in San Jose. The last time I had seen him was in 2003 when I visited him at his place in Victoria, Canada. Since then, he has moved back to Taiwan, which is where I had been planning to meet him before he told me about his Bali trip.

James and I went to a couple of bars in Seminyak--a town neighboring Kuta. Seminyak does not seem nearly as crass as Kuta, but unfortunately, is quite a bit more expensive in terms of lodging. We talked all night. There was no awkwardness at not having seen each other for over 5 years. At one point I was vehemently accused of being anal retentive because I don't do drugs or one-night stands. We had a really good time, even though it was a Sunday night and there were very few people out and about. We ended up looking for a karaoke bar, but instead got directed to a place that had the little private karaoke rooms. Oh, well. We did karaoke for an hour until the place closed at 3am.

The next night, we repeated it all over again, except the night ended a bit earlier with a woodfired pizza in a relaxed restaurant rather than in a karaoke lounge. We parted with the plan that I would visit him in Taiwan within the next few months. He flew back to Taipei the next day.

I spent the next day relaxing and preparing for my departure from Kuta the following day.

Gunung Bromo, Indonesia 06/19/08-06/21/08

2008-07-23T21:47:00.001-07:00

From Yogyakarta, I took a shuttle bus to Cemoro Lewang near the volcano Gunung Bromo. It was a pleasant enough ride with some nice scenery, but by the time we got to Cemoro Lewang, it was already dark. It was a cold night and there was a sulfur fog all around town. I was worried that all of my clothes would end up being permeated with that smell, but that was not a problem. By morning, the fog was gone.

When I arrived, the guy with the shuttle company tried to convince me to go on the jeep ride to the lookout point for the sunrise volcano viewing. Apparently, that is what most people do. I had no interest in getting up at 3am for that. I asked if there were jeeps going up to the viewpoint at any other time of day, but was told that I basically would need to hire a whole jeep just for me.

The next morning, I hiked to the volcano. The town of Cemoro Lewang is built on the edge of the crater. Walk to the end of town and you go down into the crater. In the crater, you see a huge expanse of parched earth with the crater wall around it. In the center is the smoking stump of Gunung Bromo and next to it the inactive mound of Batok. Near the two is a big Hindu temple, which looks a little eerie in the midsts of all of that desolation.

Walking down towards the crater floor and across the crater to the volcano, several men on horseback asked me if I wanted to hire a horse. I didn't.

There are 253 steps up the side of Bromo. At the top, I could look over the edge into the smoking heart of the volcano. How much I could see depended on the wind. When the wind died down, the smoke built up and you could not see much inside other than smoke. I took a few photos with my phone intending to send them to people with some message to instill jealousy, but was unable to send multimedia messages due to the lack of 3G technology there.

I went back to my hotel and had lunch. Cemoro Lewang is tiny--a few hotels and their restaurants, a few shops, and not much else.

I asked the girl at the hotel if there were any more hiking trails around with good viewpoints. She pointed me to one that went up the side of one of the mountains on the edge of the crater. I went there after lunch.

To get to the start of the hiking trail, I walked along a little blacktop road out of town. Along this road were little fields of onions and cabbages among other things. There were tiny, rustic, but fairly well-kept houses and buildings. It was not the rundown cobbled-together tin-roofed landscape of the towns and cities. All this with the mountains in the background was really beautiful. I was so happy that I was taking this hike, and I hadn't even reached the trail yet.

A few locals waved and chatted on the road to the trail. One woman in a field full of workers struck up a short conversation. When she went to go back to the field, I asked if I could take a picture of her and the others in the field. She seemed a little dubious and was shaking her head. Then said, "Ok, 5,000 rupiah" which is about 50 cents US. I think she may have been joking because she seemed a bit shocked when I said "OK". Given that these people probably only make a few bucks a day, it was, in retrospect, a bit overpriced. FYI, it is not uncommon for locals near tourist areas to ask for money for photos. This is the first time that I ever actually paid such a fee. (Of course, I usually don't take pictures of people.)

I went on a little further and ran into three toothless old women in colorful garb carrying bundles of sticks on there backs down the road. We all said "Hello" (seems everyone knows that word). They stopped and one of them started talking to me, but not in English. I did not understand a word she said, and she did not understand a word I said. They seemed to be quite amused, though, and cackled with laughter at a few points.

I was really enjoying this walk. The road ended and I got to the trail. I went up the side of the hill--quite steep at some points, not always the most well-marked. The whole time I was out on the trail I did not see anyone else except for a pair of young Indonesians out hunting. We exchanged the few English words that they knew.

The views from the trail were stunning. I could see across the caldera--a much wider view than I got from town or from inside. I could see down the sheer wall of the caldera and the mountainside, which sort of run together. I could see over the fields and the town. Parts of the path were surrounded by little white wildflowers.

It was clear that this path did not see that many visitors. It was a little overgrown in spots. (I ended up stopping my climb because it was becoming a bit too overgrown.) I eventually had to walk while waving a stick in front of me to knock down strands of spider web before I ran into them.

The whole time I was walking, I kept thinking, "People take a jeep ride to some lookout point in the middle of the night and miss all of this." What a crying shame.

The fog was rolling in by the time I started heading back down. It got pretty thick pretty fast. It was cool to watch it boiling over the top of the mountain and down the slope of the side. I stopped to take a short video with my camera.

I wanted to use the internet when I got back down, but there is no internet in Cemoro Lewang.

The next day I left Cemoro Lewang to head to Bali. This involved taking a shuttle to the town of Probolingo and catching a long-distance bus to Denpasar, Bali. It was a 9am shuttle--the guy pushing it said it left at that time because the bus to Denpasar came at 11am. He had also said that all of the companies in town used the same bus to Denpasar, and hence they all left Cemoro Lewang at the same time. I believe they all use the same bus to Denpasar. I do not know if they all leave Cemoro Lewang at the same time. I ended up sitting in Probolinggo for 2 1/2 hours before the bus to Denpasar came. I was not alone. When I got to where everyone else was waiting, there were several other people. Lo and behold, one of them was my "girlfriend" from Yogyakarta--the Dutch girl with whom I had looked for hotels and gone to the market.

The bus ride to Denpasar involved driving across the easternmost part of the island of Java, getting off the bus on the ferry across to the island of Bali, getting back on the bus before leaving the ferry, and then driving to Denpasar.

A few times while traveling, service people will ask, "Do you have any coins from your country?" It is generally presented as coin collecting. I suspect that it is usually converted back into the local currency. My shuttle driver in the morning asked that question after everyone else was gone. I was reminded of it when I got on the ferry and a guy was trying to find someone willing to give rupia in exchange for euros.

It was around 10pm when the bus finally reached Denpasar--much later than anticipated and still not at my final destination.

Yogyakarta, Borobudur, and Prambanan 06/17/08-06/19/08

2008-07-23T21:16:00.000-07:00

I left Jakarta and headed east across the island of Java. I had to meet a friend in Bali on the weekend, so my time on Java was limited. My first stop after Jakarta was Yogyakarta.

Yogyakarta is a sizable city and is well liked among Indonesians and travelers. I was only there for two nights, and most of the intervening day was spent outside of town, but from what I saw of the city, it did seem like a pleasant place.

Some of the attractions of Yogyakarta are its batik, leather goods, silversmiths, shadow puppet theater, and the walled royal enclave (the kraton). I saw none of these things (well, you cannot avoid the batik) because my days were spent outside of town.

Within an hour of Yogyakarta are several temple ruins. The very famous Buddhist temple Borobudur and the Hindu temple complex Prambanan are the most well-known. There is also the very active volcano Gunung Merapi.

The train from Jakarta to Yogyakarta was quite pleasant. Views of rice fields and distant volcanoes.

While waiting on the train platform in Jakarta, I met a Dutch girl who was waiting for the same train. We talked a little and then ran into each other again when we arrived in Yogyakarta. We decided to look for hotels together. That rarest of beasts, a helpful tout, actually helped us find rooms (since our first choice was full.) We had a hard time explaining to desk clerks that although we walked in together, we wanted separate rooms and might not even stay in the same hotel.

She and I ended up in the same hotel right across the hall from each other--the Merapi Hotel in the backpacker ghetto near the train station and the main shopping area. I liked the hotel, but alas, there was just no escaping the pre-dawn blasts from the loudspeakers on the nearby mosque.

After settling in, she and I decided to go take a little walk around the area. It was around dusk. We walked through the markets and ended up doing a little shopping. Once again, everyone thought we were a couple. In the end, we just stopped fighting it. She would walk up to me with something she was thinking of buying and say something like, "Honey, what do you think of this?" With my woefully bad haggling skills, I bought a couple of pairs of earrings. I didn't feel too bad--the more expensive pair was only about a buck and a half US. We both ended up buying some really tasty fruit. Neither of us knew what it was. After stopping at the tourist information booth, I walked her back to the hotel. That was the last I saw of her in Jogjakarta.

After that, I went to meet someone that I had chatted with online. He and I ate at a nice, open-air Thai restaurant a motorbike ride away and then ended up at a mall having coffee because, well, a mall was the only place where we knew to go. Being a good muslim, he doesn't do bars. Like I said before, life seems very mall-centric in Indonesia.

The next day, I took a tour (not really a tour--just transport) to Borobudur, Gunung Merapi, and Prambanan. Aside from me, there were 3 young Indonesians and a bunch of French people.

Borobudur is an impressively restored--and just impressive--old Buddhist temple. It is just one large building with a few little museums around it. There were tons of people there. Nonetheless, it was easy to find places to be alone, since they all seemed to just run up the main stairways and hang out at the top instead of exploring the walkways on the sides at the different levels.

It was cool and all, but I was done after about 45 minutes. The bus was scheduled to stop there for 2 hours. I guess if you went around and studied all of the intricate bas reliefs you could fill up 2 hours.

While on Borobudur, people kept coming up to me and asking if they could take a picture with me. The guidebook told me that this might happen. Whenever anyone wanted a picture, I obliged. First, it was this trio of giggly teenage girls. Then a school teacher. And his co-worker. And the entire primary-school class. This continued at Pramabanan with a middle-aged woman, another middle-aged woman, her husband, and my two tour guides. It was bizarre. I cannot imaging that white people are that rare there. I asked someone else from the bus if they got the same treatment and he said yes.

As I was walking around, three boys dressed in slacks and dress shirts, probably between 12 and 14, came up to me and asked if they could practice English with me. In many countries, this is often a ploy in the hopes that money will eventually change hands. As such, I declined and went on around the structure. A while later, they came back up to me and started talking to me. They showed me their badges which was supposed to convince me that they were legit. I had nothing else to do to kill the next hour, so I kept talking to them.

While talking to them, I discovered that they really were just wanting to practice English. Apparently, their teacher brings the kids on field trips to tourist places like this and sends them out to have conversations with English speakers. I later found out that their teacher was occassionally wandering by to make sure that they were doing their assignment.

I had fun talking with these kids. The conversation ran the gamut. It started with the usual, "Where are you from?", "What do you do?", etc. Then it was questions about school and life in America. They told me about their schooling--I was amazed to learn that they had only been studying English for a year and a half. They told me that they hoped to someday go to college in America. Some of the questions were very broad, like "What is life like in America?" I laughed out loud when one of them asked "What about sex in America?" He insisted that if he was ever going to live in America that he would need to know these things. "Is it true that people can have sex before they get married in America?" What a conundrum.

The kids asked if I wanted to see any of the museums. I had heard that they weren't very interesting. They seemed to like one museum in particular, so we went there. They referred to it as something like the "unique" museum. When I went to pay for my ticket, the woman at the booth saw that I was with students and just waved me in. The museum was devoted to items in the category of "the something-est something". It had (supposedly) the world's largest dress and the biggest book in Indonesia, but mostly it consisted of panels that looked like photos out of the Guiness Book of World Records. No wonder it was popular with the kids.

We walked through a couple of other buildings that had chunks from Borobudur and photos of the reconstruction. Then, it was time for me to get back to my bus, so we bid each other farewell and parted company. It was an interesting way to kill an hour.

I hopped back on the bus and we were on our way to Gunung Merapi. Bascially, that stop was just a photo op at the base of Merapi. That was fine--I just got the tour for transport to the temples.

From there we had lunch and went to Prambanan. I don't usually like guided tours. I prefer, instead, to wander around on my own. Yes, I don't get all of the history and information, I overlook details, but I also don't get bored and antsy about keeping with the herd.

After a few minutes in Prambanan, a pair of young ladies in head scarves with badges around their necks came up to me. They said that they were tour guides in training and asked if I would mind allowing them to give me a free tour as practice. I really didn't want a guide, but I agreed anyway. They later told me that they have to do this for 3 weeks before they can start getting paid for giving tours. Their presentation had some definite flaws and I had to review them after the tour was done.

Prambanan is a complex of several temples. They are pretty impressive, but unfortunately, they were damaged in an earthquake a few years ago and now visitors cannot walk up to the main buildings due to fear of injury.

After a hot sweaty day of temples, I went home and booked a bus out of Yogyakarta for the next day, rested a bit, and had dinner with a friend. I would have liked to have stayed in Yogyakarta another day or two, but I still had to get to Bali by the weekend.

Jakarta, Indonesia--06/12/08-06/15/08

2008-07-22T07:47:00.000-07:00

For a while, I had been wondering if my travel bug had died. In Central America, I just wasn't feeling the love of travel. In Thailand, I wasn't having a good time, and there was a moment when I just wanted to hop back on the plane and head home. But then I went to Indonesia. Once I got there, I discovered that my travel bug was alive and well. I was psyched about going places and seeing things. It was a good feeling.

People struck me as being very friendly in Indonesia. I certainly made several acquaintances who wanted to spend time together. In the street and at tourist sites, people would actually talk to me just to talk or to be helpful. This was disconcerting because I am so used to no one talking to me unprovoked unless they want something. It makes things harder when you are in a place where people will talk to you for other reasons. You have to decide which kind of person they are, which can be really hard.

Not only did people want to talk, but in a few places, strangers would come up to me wanting to have their picture taken with the white guy. Several people of all different ages. If my experiences are anything to judge by, they REALLY seem to like white people in Indonesia, and not just for the reasons that they do in every other developing country--i.e., as suckers with cash.

Indonesia was my first experience with a predominantly Islamic country. I can't say that it was a whole lot different. Here are some of the more noticeable differences:

Lots of women wearing head scarves.
Loudspeakers blasting the call to prayer from the mosques at the prescribed times--one of which is in the wee hours of the morning. (This is problematic for budget hotels with very little sound-proofing.)
Very few places with pork on the menu.
Prayer rooms next to the toilets at rest stops.

I never once felt self-conscious about being a white, non-Muslim, American while traveling through Indonesia.

I did on one or two occasions hear grumbles (from Muslims) about the ultraconservative Muslims who are trying to force laws to get everyone to abide by their moral codes. Before I left for Asia, I had read in the news about some of the recently proposed "decency" laws.

On the issue of terrorism, there were plenty of metal detectors and guards at entrances to malls and other public places. (I noticed that train stations and malls in Bangkok had also begun taking such measures since its recent troubles.) In addition to the high-profile bombings in Bali and Jakarta of a few years ago, there are ongoing acts of violence regularly occurring in certain parts of Indonesia. I did not visit any of these places.

Indonesian food was not quite what I expected. I somehow had the impression that Indonesian cuisine was very spicy, which it is not. The ubiquitous dishes were fried rice, fried noodles, fried chicken, and satay.

My point of entry into Indonesia was the Jakarta airport. I had a slight problem there. The immigration guy didn't want to let me in. Many countries have a policy that before entering you must show either an onward ticket or proof of funds. I always have ATM and credit cards, so it is never an issue, but no one has ever asked me for proof. This guy asked me if I had an onward ticket. I told him that I had a ticket to San Francisco, but it leaves from Bangkok. This was a problem. I told him that I had plenty of funds, but he informed me that for a visa on arrival (which was what I got) Indonesia requires an onward ticket leaving from an Indonesian airport. You cannot leave by water or land. I got a bit of attitude for not knowing this.

Trust me, this visa requirement is not obvious. I wanted to make sure that I could get a visa on arrival in Indonesia, so before I went, I looked at their web page. It was less than user-friendly, and I do not recall seeing the bit about needing an onward ticket to use the visa on arrival. I also looked in Lonely Planet. It was not like I hadn't done my homework--I am always worried about getting visas at border crossings. The immigration guy said that there was a sign where I got my visa on arrival stating the requirement. I read the signs there. I do not recall seeing anything other than a list of nationalities that could get the visa and the price.

So, what to do. I was told that I needed to buy a ticket out of Indonesia. The problem was, the ticketing counters were on the other side of immigration. I could call them or use the web and buy a ticket, but there were no internet cafes on my side of immigration and I had no local currency or phone card to use a pay phone (if there were any). I was about to turn back and try to find some way of making a call or getting someone from an AirAsia desk to help me out, when another guy came up. (By this time, everyone else had already left the immigration area--it was just me and the immigration guy.) The new guy said that the ticket desks were closed already. (It was not especially late yet.) He took me aside and said quietly that maybe I should offer the guy behind the desk some money. Ah. I see. That's how this works. I'm supposed to bribe this guy. I was not too happy, but what choice did I have? So, I went back to the desk, told the guy, "Ok, I understand from your friend that I can pay a 'fine' to take care of this. So how much is this 'fine'?" He seemed a bit confused. I told him that I had only US $25 on me (actually, I had more in my money belt) so hopefully it was not more than that. He figured out what was going on and told me that he did not want money, he just wanted me to get a ticket out. Now I was confused and relayed what the other guy had said--whom I thought was another guy working for immigration. The guy behind the desk told me that the other guy was from AirAsia--they had no connection. He had just called the AirAsia guy over to see if I could get a ticket. Oops. Wasn't I embarrassed (and potentially felonious.) I think he was embarrassed too and just processed my paperwork to get me through. I was impressed that he didn't accept the bribe. How embarrassing.

Once I got through immigration, the fun continued. I had to find my bag because I had spent so long in immigration that they had taken it off the belt. Then, once I found it, I wanted to make sure that I had no problems with customs. Indonesia is very strict about importing "immoral" items--such as uncensored movies that might depict nudity or other racy or otherwise sensitive material. I remembered that as I was packing, my friend in Thailand had given me two DVDs to watch on my computer. I had never heard of these movies before and knew nothing about them. Each of them had won some film festival award or other. However, one of them was named "Circuit" and was about circuit parties. I could very easily see it having objectionable material--there were probably sex scenes as well as rampant drug use. Did I mention that drug trafficking carries the death penalty in Indonesia? I dug them out of my bag and threw them in the trash before going through customs. I did not want any more trouble, especially since I was the only person who was going through customs at the time. I zipped right through.

Finally, I was free to go about my business. But wait, there's more. The first thing I wanted to do after visiting the ATM was get a local SIM card for my phone. I asked the information desk if there was a place in the airport that sold them, and the guy told me where I could get one. Because of my delay in immigration, I was one of very few arriving passengers still in the arrivals terminal. I might as well have had a bulls-eye painted on me. Several guys approached.

"Taxi?"

"No, thanks." (Don't EVER go with a taxi driver that accosts you in the arrivals terminal.)

Then one tried to show me to the place where I could get a SIM card.

"I know where it is, I don't need any help, thanks."

He was undeterred and walked along ahead of me and tried to show me to a place which did not even sell them. While he was dealing with that, I ignored him and went across the hall to where I knew they did sell them. I got my SIM card, but the guys were still waiting. I informed them over and over that I was not going with them. One just would not leave. While I was trying to call a hotel in town using my new SIM card, I finally got fed up with the guy and with no attempts at politeness or hiding my irritation I informed him that there was no way in hell I was taking his taxi and to just leave me alone. I did everything short of telling him to fuck off. I still had to get up and walk to another part of the terminal to ditch the guy.

Finally, I went out to the official taxi stand and got a cab into town. I had a pleasant enough chat with the taxi driver who, although he did not speak much English, wanted to chat. When he found out that I was single and traveling alone, he asked if I was looking for women. Here we go again. I made it abundantly clear that I was not in Indonesia for that. When I got to the hotel, the bellboy showing me to my room asked if I wanted to find some women. I have to wonder, does every single white guy visiting Asia get this treatment or is there something about me in particular that makes everyone think I am a sex tourist? When I went into the street to get some dinner (it was around midnight) I had to dodge a hooker or two. (They weren't extremely obvious.)

I stayed on Jalan Jaksa--the street which is the backpacker ghetto in Jakarta. Whenever I met people in Jakarta and was asked where I was staying, I always said "Jalan Jaksa" with a bit of embarrassment. The reaction was usually pretty negative. I asked a friend in Jakarta "Why does everyone know Jalan Jaksa? Why do people go there?" The response was basically, "People go there because that is where people go." Accommodation in Jakarta is pretty expensive for what you get--which is not much. I could have gotten a much better hotel for half the price in Bangkok or any other of the big cities that I have been to in Southeast Asia (except for Singapore.)

The night I arrived in Jakarta, I started communicating with some of the people there that I had met online. By the next day, I was hanging out with them. I ended up meeting several people very quickly. By the end of the weekend, I had people that I didn't remember meeting walking up to me in places and addressing me by name. I ended up doing an unusual amount of clubbing that weekend. Indonesia's club scene is quite developed, apparently. I met some of the people I hung out with in clubs. That is not usually a way that I like to meet people, but it was actually OK.

My first day in Jakarta, a Friday, I hung around with Jojo. We went to a mall so that I could get a replacement charger for my new phone. (The charger that came with the phone worked exactly once.) We used the busway system in Jakarta. This system uses special buses that run in lanes reserved specifically for these buses. It is very much like a light rail except that it uses buses instead of trains. Traffic in Jakarta is a nightmare, so anything that moves people through it is a godsend.

Jakarta has some massive malls. And some pretty upscale ones, too. Prada, Louis Vitton, Bruno Mali as far as the eye can see. I came to discover that Indonesia is very mall-centric. Social life revolves largely around malls. I had never been to a place where nightclubs were located inside of malls.

Jojo, being a good Muslim, did not drink or go to bars. Pavis, on the other
hand, was a Bangkok native who is going to school in Washington, D.C. and in
Jakarta for several months on an internship. He had just arrived within a week before I did. He was out clubbing that Friday and invited me to join him. We went to Red Square where he was out with a friend of his visiting from D.C. and some of her friends. I did not like that bar at all--it was packed with people too dressed up for my comfort zone and acting kinda mindless. They seemed to be having fun, though. It was so packed that I couldn't see a bar anywhere and the waiters didn't bother to bring me my drink order. I was not happy there. Eventually, Pavis told me where the bar was, I shelled out US$10 for a drink, after which I was suddenly much more able to enjoy the place. I still didn't like the place, but I went with the flow. Among other people, some very strange girl from Tennessee started talking to me. I have no idea what she was on. That was the weirdest, most awkward conversation that I had had in a long time.

I was getting ready to go home because I had not gotten much sleep the in the past couple of days and it was already after 2am. I found Pavis to say good-bye and he suggested that I go with him and some of his acquaintances to another club--Stadium. I had heard of Stadium. It had a reputation. I was curious. I figured that I would not go there on my own, so I would fight off sleep a little longer and go with them. Once I saw the place, I would just take a taxi home.

On the drive there, I discovered that Pavis did not know as much about Stadium as I did. What I knew, I got from the description of it in Lonely Planet. Stadium is a huge club--it has four floors and can hold 4,000 people. It opens on Thursday night and closes on Monday morning. And alcohol is not the drug of choice. That last fact was one that Pavis did not know and was not happy to discover. (As far as the opening hours, I discovered that that bit was not quite true anymore. I was told that it closes for several hours on Saturday morning. When asked why that was so, the person did not know. I asked someone else later and was told that they need to close the place to check for dead bodies, presumably from overdoses.)

Stadium was actually quite a nice building. It looked very new and trendy. I wondered how a club that catered to people who did not buy drinks stayed in business. I soon found out. When walking down the hall on certain floors, it looks like the hallway in a hotel, with numbered rooms along the hall. Our group (who got there in separate cars) was meeting in one of the rooms. Stadium rents out these private rooms. That is apparently how they make their money--renting out little private drug dens.

When we got to the room, it had a couch, some chairs, a TV with a karaoke setup, an attached bathroom--and was almost completely dark. There were other people already there, apparently for quite some time. Judging by the near-total lack of light and the fact that some of them were still wearing sunglasses, it was clear that what they were doing in there was not karaoke.

Interesting side note, in spite of the fact that Indonesia has severe drug laws (trafficking is punishable by death), it is the ecstacy capital of the world.

Pavis clearly hated Stadium and wanted to be somewhere else. I found it repulsive, but it was actually not nearly as bad as I expected, so I was OK. I asked Pavis if he wanted to leave, but he was determined to stay with his acquaintances and go with them when they left. Once everyone showed up, we went to one of the dance floors. After being there for about half an hour, I had decided that I had seen enough and it was time to go home. I asked Pavis again if he wanted to get a taxi out of there with me, but he was going to stay. He apologized profusely later for taking me to Stadium, which was unnecessary, since I knew what I was getting into.

It had started raining while we were in the club, and there was a huge crowd of people waiting for taxis. It was after 4 am. I had made a mental note of how to (safely) get to the main road when we entered the club, so I made my way there. A little boy with an umbrella followed me and shielded me from the rain for a tip. He also helped me spot a Bluebird taxi--the reputable taxi company in Jakarta. And so ended my first day in Indonesia.

The rest of my stay in Jakarta was more mild--going to more tame clubs, meeting people for lunch, dinner, and karaoke (which I have been doing a lot in Asia this time), and such.

On the Monday after I arrived in Jakarta, I bought a train ticket to Yogyakarta for the next day, took in the view from the top of the national monument (a big obelisk), and got together with some friends one last time. Jakarta may not be the prettiest or most interesting city in the world, but those 4 days there were a bit of a whirlwind.

The Most Important Travel Tool That I Own

2008-07-10T23:28:00.000-07:00

I had a few electronics failures while in Bangkok. The charger for my quad-band phone that I use while traveling stopped working. I bought a new one. Then the phone stopped receiving text messages, which are important when I travel in Asia. On top of that, my PDA died.

The need for a new phone and a new PDA convinced me to finally get a smart phone. I would have gotten an iPhone except that Apple handcuffs you to AT&T, and if you have the phone unlocked, Apple completely disowns it. A phone that only works with AT&T is less than useless when traveling in Asia, and I did not want to pay $500 for an unlocked I-phone (readily available in Bangkok) that would not be updatable and would have no warranty if it broke the next day. In the end, I bought the Nokia E51. The phone has wi-fi, a camera, an SD memory slot, and the usual goodies like bluetooth, speakerphone, etc. It is a smart phone, so it replaces my PDA, with the added benefit that it is with me at all times without taking up extra pocket space.

Why am I writing a blog entry about a new phone? Because it has become an immensely important travel accessory. Here are the handy things I can do with the phone:

My phone is a quad-band, unlocked GSM phone. As such, for any country that has a GSM mobile phone network, I can go to a store, buy a SIM card, use a prepaid plan, and voila! I have a local phone number. Every airport in Asia that I have been to on this trip has had a shop where I could get a SIM card. It is so nice to have a local number as soon as I land. Having a local phone account makes it much easier to connect with people in that country, as well as make hotel and travel reservations. It also lets me exchange text messages with people in other countries at a reasonable rate. Since most such phone plans have free incoming calls, anyone back home can talk to me, provided that they are will to pay for an international call. (I still use Skype for my international calls.)

The phone plays mp3s. Since getting it, I have pretty much stopped using my iPod and my other mp3 player. Because the phone has a slot for a 2G SD memory card, I can put songs, language lessons, etc. on the card and listen to them on the phone, either via headphones or the speaker on the phone. When exercising, it is nice to not have to have to use headphones like I do with the iPod.

I am a light sleeper. Noise wakes me up. The best way to combat this is by having some kind of white noise generator in the room, such as a fan or a loud air conditioner. When these are not available, I can play an mp3 recording of a vacuum cleaner through my phone's speaker. It does a respectable job of blocking out unwanted noise.

The wi-fi capability of the phone allows me to connect to the internet. I can download podcasts which I can then listen to on my phone, either via headphones or the speaker on the phone. I can check e-mail on the phone as well. I can also surf the web, but this can be a slow, tedious process. Wireless access points are not always easy to find, but since the Starbucks empire has infiltrated a whole lot of places, there is usually one around somewhere in larger shopping centers in cities. Some hotels, restaurants, and other coffee shops also have them.

Nokia smart phones have the Nokia Maps program which is turning out to be immensely useful. When connected to the internet via wi-fi, I point the application to whatever city I want to navigate and it downloads the map for it. (There is a separate PC application that can download maps, but I have not tried it.) I can zoom in to street level or out to a view from space. I really wish I had a phone with GPS--the combination of GPS and Nokia maps would be so handy. Unfortnately, Nokia maps do not cover all cities. So far, it has done great with Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur, and Jakarta, but other cities like Denpasar in Bali do not show up at all. I have found that Nokia Maps works better than Google Maps in that it is not as tethered to the internet. I could, of course, use Google Maps with a 3G connection to the internet, but that would be crazy expensive.

My old PDA was very useful as a time-waster when I was on buses, planes, trains, and the like. I would read books on it or play games. I have downloaded a book reader and some books for my phone, which works perfectly well, although the screen is a bit smaller. (Books are heavy, take up a lot of space, and are expensive. Reading public domain books on a handheld device works great.) I have also downloaded several games, but the lack of a touch-screen on the phone makes playing games a lot less fun. The phone has a Java interpreter, so I can play games written in Java. (Non-geeks can ignore that last sentence.)

The phone has a 2 megapixel camera, which means that I always have a camera with me. The camera is not nearly as good as my Canon, so When I go to tourist spots, I still take the Canon. Still, there are a lot of shots that I would not have gotten without the camera phone.

The phone has a photo viewer. I use this to view maps that I download from the internet, such as transit maps or city maps.

I have other applications on the phone that are useful while traveling: an alarm clock, a world clock, a currency converter, a program to download podcasts, an appointment calendar, and an application for writing notes to myself.

There are some things that my phone does not have that I wish it did:

GPS
a touch screen
a flash for the camera
the ability to charge the phone using the USB cable (My phone charger died the day after I bought the phone and I had to buy a new one, since I was no longer in the country where I bought it--Thailand.)

Eventually, I intend to install one or more language dictionaries and phrasebooks--hopefully, talking ones.

I would also like to get a bluetooth keyboard so I can type up my journals and blog entries on my phone.

I Hit the Road Again--and It Hit Back (Thailand, 5/15/08-6/12/08)

2008-07-09T06:37:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I am back on the road again after taking a break for a couple of months in California. I came back from Costa Rica on Feb. 22 and left for Thailand on May 15. Yes, I am SERIOUSLY behind on my blogs. I still have pretty much all of Central America and lots of Mexico to write up yet.

In May, prior to leaving for Thailand, I went back to Illinois to visit family and friends, since I will probably not be back for Christmas again this year. While there, my family threw me a surprise 40th birthday party. I was definitely surprised--my birthday was not for 3 more months. They knew I would not be in the country for my birthday and figured that that was the only shot they would get.

Some of you may know that I had planned to go to South America after my break, followed by Asia later. I decided to go to Asia first for a few reasons:

The thought of going back to Latin America filled me with dread rather than excitement.
The thought of going back to Asia, in contrast, sounded like a lot of fun.
It would be winter in South America.
A friend of mine in Bangkok was about to move to Europe, and by going to Asia first, I could visit him before he left.

Because of that last reason, I started my Asia trip in Bangkok--a place that
I became very familiar with in previous trips to Asia.

Sadly, my trip to Thailand was largely miserable. I tend to regret very little--mistakes tend to make valuable learning experiences--but I regret going back to Thailand when I did. I had gone there to visit my friend, of whom I had many happy memories. Those happy memories have now been replaced with some very unhappy ones. I would have preferred to have just left things as they were when I last visited.

Five years ago when I was in Thailand, after meeting in Bangkok, my friend and I took a trip to Ko Samui which was filled with a lot of things that still made us laugh recalling them. Two years ago we took a nice, low-key trip to Cha Am. On that trip, I was happy to see that my friend's life had changed for the better, and he seemed much happier than I remembered him years before. But just as I was very happy to see these changes in him two years ago, I was very unhappy to see some of the changes that took place between then and now. I am not at liberty to say what those changes were--I promised I wouldn't--but the resulting behavior put a big strain on our friendship. So much of a strain that I don't even know if I would still call us friends. Time will tell. On the bright side, I think the source of most of the problems will go away when he leaves the country--away from some bad influences and into the presence of someone who will not put up with what was going on.

I arrived in Thailand at midnight after a 24-hour plane trip. A day before I left California, my friend invited me to take a trip with him and some friends to Ko Samet--a place that I had considered visiting last time I was in Thailand. A bit hesitantly, I agreed to go. I wish I had not. A lot of bad shit went down there, and the rest of my visit to Thailand never recovered from that. Don't get me wrong--I was never in any danger and the bad things that happened did not happen to me, but what happened there disturbed me so much that it had me lying in bed awake for many nights. Again, I cannot go into details because I promised that I wouldn't.

I should say that the things that were wrong with that trip to Ko Samet had nothing to do with Ko Samet itself. In fact, I would recommend Ko Samet. It has beautiful beaches with rustic beachside restaurants that do not spoil the scene by pumping out loud music and creating that whole "party 'til you puke" vibe. (At least, this is true of the part of the island where I stayed.) You can find all the relaxation you want there or you can dance all night if you prefer. Ko Samet seems to have found a nice balance, and I enjoyed both sides of it.

In spite of the aforementioned disturbing incidents, I did have some genuinely good times on Ko Samet. I went dancing on several nights with my friend and his friends and had a lot of fun. (I found out weeks later that someone else who knew me from Bangkok saw me dancing on Ko Samet but was not sure it was me, since he did not know I was back.) After one such night out, we stopped by a booth to play that carnival game where you throw darts at balloons to win a prize. Someone won a Piglet stuffed toy, which was given to me and now shows up in photos of the places I visit.

Also, on Ko Samet, I had a very good conversation with my friend, where he showed me photos from the past few years and told me about his days as a monk last year. In Thailand, it is not uncommon for men and boys to spend a little time--a few weeks or months--as Bhuddist monks. (I know another friend--Siam--who has done this as well.) It is often done to honor their families. The last time I visited my friend, he told me that he had planned to someday be a monk for a while to honor his mother. I had a hard time picturing him as a monk then. When he showed me the photos and told me about the experience, I saw a side of him that I had not seen before. His plan was to be a monk for two weeks. Once he started, he decided to continue for five months. He tried to describe the feeling that made him stay, but had difficulty. In the end, he just said something to the effect that he stayed because he felt so strongly in his heart. I found it incredibly touching.

On Ko Samet and afterwards, the friendship pretty much crumbled, leading to some hurt feelings, but still, some pretty good times in Bangkok. The last few days before I left Thailand did a lot to mend things between us, but I suspect that it was too little too late. Time will tell. When I go back to Bangkok, he will not be there, and I find that to be a relief, which in itself is sad. I would like to think that our friendship will recover, but I do not have a lot of hope. Sigh.

My arrival in Thailand was met with the worst case of insomnia that I have ever had. My second worst case was the last time I arrived in Thailand. I blame this mostly on the flight there. (I took the same flight both times.) Usually, I combat jet lag after an all night flight by staying up until at least 8 pm and then sleeping until morning. Using this trick, I have almost never had jet lag. Unfortunately, my 24-hour flight to Bangkok landed at around midnight. There was no way I could stay up another 20 hours before sleeping. (I did, however, stay up until around 4am talking with my friend.) I hardly got any sleep for the next week. I was amazed that I could go so long with so little sleep. I was awake for 24-hours straight more than once. When I did sleep, it was generally for an hour or two. (It was not all jet lag--nights out, rock-hard beds, and troubling incidents contributed to the insomnia.) Usually, after two or more nights without much sleep, I tend to get sick--colds and the like. I was feeling amazingly fit after my week of sleeplessness.

Once I got back to Bangkok, I reconnected with several other old friends. I visited with Siam--the first friend I ever made in Thailand. We caught up and he showed me his brand new condo. It is tiny, but it is in a very nice building. (So nice, that the previously mentioned friend used to dream of living there when viewing it from the balcony of his apartment a few blocks away.)

I also visited Dew, who is now the proud proprietor of a new guesthouse in Bangkok. The building is owned by his family, but he was in charge of renovating it and turning it into a guesthouse. It is pretty much his baby. He gave me the grand tour. When I left Thailand, it had not yet opened. Dew and I met and hung out several times when I was in Bangkok five years ago. He visited San Francisco a couple of years ago, at which time I showed him around and introduced him to Halloween in the Castro with some friends.

I also met a few new friends in Bangkok to replace the ones that have left the city or lost touch since I first started going there.

I have always loved Bangkok, inexplicably, from the first time I went there. I have to say, however, that each time I go back, some of the luster wears off. There was a time that I would have loved to live in Bangkok. Now, I'm not so sure. I still like it, partially because of its status as my home-away-from-home, but now it is more of a "yeah, I guess I like it" rather than "oh, my God, I love it". But as long as I have friends there, I expect that I will like it. And it is any easy place to make friends, which is something that has always made me like it.

I stayed in a different hotel during this visit to Bangkok--The Blooms Residence. It was suggested to me because I was staying for a while and they have cheap monthly rates--about $225 a month. The room was tiny, but fully functional, and best of all, quiet. It was a 15 minute walk to the nearest train station (more than I would have liked), but other than that, fairly well located. When I checked the rates for the hotel, they had three rates: daily, monthly, and hourly. Yep. Hourly. The place really did not exude the no-tell motel ambiance, and there were plenty of families staying there, but anyone who knew of the place knew of it as a haven for sex tourists. After I checked in, I happened upon a little tidbit on the web. It turns out that the wacko that claimed that he killed JonBenet Ramsey (remember her?) was living there when he "confessed". (For those who do not commit details of media frenzies to memory, it was concluded that this guy could not possibly have killed her and was just nuts.)

Another new thing added on this trip to Bangkok was my use of motorcycle taxis. There was always a bunch of them waiting outside my hotel. During high traffic times, they are a lot faster than regular taxis because they can just go around the cars in a traffic jam. And, I was surprised to discover, they have fixed rates, so you do not have to negotiate a price like you do with tuk-tuks. Of course, you always run the risk of getting your head splattered on the pavement. They usually have an extra helmet to help prevent this.

When my one month visa expired, I left Thailand. I had an old friend to meet in Bali.

Bluefields, Nicaragua 01/20/08-01/21/08

2008-02-01T13:41:00.001-08:00

Highlights

Transportation woes a-plenty
A boat in the rain

After Managua, I decided to go to the Corn Islands off of Nicaragua's Caribbean coast. To get there, you have to go to the city of Bluefields and either take a boat or plane to Big Corn Island. Rather than simply fly from Managau to Bluefields and continue on to the island, I decided to take the land/water route to Bluefields and just fly back when I was done with my time on the islands. I would just do the land route once for the experience. It ended up being an experience I could have done without. It was all because of the people providing transportation.

Bluefields is a small town on the Caribbean with a small airport. It is only reachable by boat or air. It is the gateway to the Corn Islands. There is not a whole lot of interest in Bluefields other than the airport and ferries.

Details

To get to Bluefields, I had to go by land from Managua to Rama and catch a boat the rest of the way to Bluefields. I took a cab to the bus station, where I knew there was a direct bus going to Rama at 9:00am. I was surprised when the cab driver accepted my reasonable offer of 40 cordobas for the ride. He spent quite a while on the way looking for other fares to share the ride. (In Nicaragua and other Central American countries, they will generally try to get other fares going the same direction. This is not considered unusual.) He did not find any other fares. When we got to the bus station, I paid him his 40 and was informed that I needed to pay him 10 more. After an initial sigh of frustration, I decided that I did not want to have an argument in Spanish over 50 cents instead of catching my bus, so I just gave it to him. It was still much cheaper than I expected to pay. Did I ever mention that I hate taxi drivers?

At most of the bus stations in Central America, there are usually people who will ask you where you are going and direct you to a bus--a surprising case of people in the street out to help you and not just themselves. In Managua, there are guys there who have no interest in you but want to get something from you. I was a bit wary. The woman with the shuttle right next to me asked if I was going to Juigalpa. I said no, and proceded to put on my backpack to find my bus. Then she asked if I was going to Rama. I said yes and she indicated that I should take the shuttle. I asked if it was direct and what the price was. It sounded OK, so I got in. Well, much to my annoyance, I later found out that the shuttle was direct, but it was direct only to Juigalpa, halfway to Rama. I got out there, failed to get a direct bus from there to Rama, and ended up on a very nice but incredibly slow bus there instead. I was fuming. I was so pissed that I did not just get onto the bus I had originally planned to get on. I was really pissed at the thought that I might miss the last boat to Bluefields and have to spend the night in Rama--an apparently seedy town. I kept thinking, "I am really getting sick of Central America. It is time to leave."

I got to Rama in plenty of time for the boats, but as I arrived, it started raining. As with bus stations, boat docks often have people to guide you to the pier and the right boat. A guy saw me heading there and walked with me the rest of the way to the ticket booth. But wait--there were two companies with boats to Bluefields. They were giving contradictory statements about the services. One group was lying, but which one? Or both? I gut stuck with the liars. They said the boat was covered, but it was not. By that point, I just thought, "Screw it. Just get me the hell out of here and get this day over with. If I have to wait an hour for the other company to run the covered boat, I would rather just get wet."

Instead of the boat being covered, the passengers got covered with a sheet of opaque plastic the length of the boat. It was stiflingly hot under the plastic. As the boat moved, I put my head out from under the plastic. I decided that I would rather be drenched with rain than with sweat. As the boat picked up speed, the rain stung my face. I was worried that I might be causing the guy behind me to get wet, so I went back under the plastic.

I had taken the river route rather than fly so that I could see the scenery. All I was seeing was the inside of a sheet of plastic. It wasn't even the rain or the plastic that pissed me off. It was just the fact that I was lied to and screwed over yet again. At that moment, I just wanted to get the hell out of Central America and never come back.

After just a few minutes, the rain stopped and we took off the plastic. As he sky brightened, so did my mood. I think I even smiled.

The scenery was basically just jungle lining the river. It was not much different from Rio Dulce in Guatemala. The ride was quite rough in spots. My butt hurt. Even in the smooth spots, the boat was constantly bouncing up and down.

It was getting dark when we arrived in Bluefields. I had decided to not bother with a hotel search and just go to the more expensive option listed in Lonely Planet. As I got off the boat, I practically ran to avoid dealing with touts.

I walked directly to the hotel with no trouble. On the short walk, I definitely did not get the warm fuzzies about Bluefields. I decided I would just eat in the hotel tonight and take care of any business in the morning rather than walk around Bluefields at night.

The hotel restaurant was out over the bay and was quite nice. It was so darkly lit that the waiter had to bring a flashlight for me to read the menu. While eating, some little girl kept screaming for quite a while. I don't mean crying, I mean shrieking just for the fun of it. Neither her parents nor anyone else made any move to get her to stop or even seemed to notice that she was doing it, reaffirming my theory that in Central America the existence of noise is not acknowledged.

My sleep was interrupted a couple of times in the early morning by dogs. Like all of Central America that I have seen so far, stray dogs are an infestation in Bluefields.

I needed to run errands before heading to the airport to fly to the Corn Islands. I did not know if I would have internet access on the islands, so I booked my return ticket home. I have one more month of Central America before I fly home from San Jose, Costa Rica. It may be too long, considering I have only been gone for 3 months, and that as of this day, I am officially burnt out on Central America.

After searching and asking around, I found the post office and finally mailed the photo CDs back home to Ganesh.

I packed up and headed to the airport to fly to Big Corn Island. Flagging down a taxi was surprisingly hard. There were zillions in the street, but they were taken and heading the other way. When I finally found someone willing to go to the airport, I asked if he would do it for 10 quetzales (the cheapest suggested fare to the airport), and he said yes. No haggling. We picked up another passenger on the street, dropped her off (I didn't see her pay) and off to the airport, which is a very short ride.

I bought my ticket and waited for about 3 hours, which was when the next flight left. The airport is tiny and the only other people there for the first hour or so were people who worked there.

Before I could board, I had to take the spoon out of my carry-on. Apparently, spoons are dangerous. I had another spoon in my big bag, so I just threw away the one in my backpack.

Managua, Nicaragua 01/18/18-01/20/08

2008-02-01T13:40:00.000-08:00

Highlights

Met my acquaintance from the internet
Walked up to the lagoon overlooking the city.
Walked around the city
Tried (unsuccessfully) to plug a leaky shower.

Summary

What is there to say about Managua? It is the capital of Nicaragua, has a large portion of the population, and is not the most interesting place in the world. It's downtown area was destroyed in an earthquake and not rebuilt because it sits on multiple fault lines.

I stayed near some of the international bus stations because this part of town has the cheap lodgings. (Managua seems quite overpriced.) Not surprisingly, this neighborhood has some of the seedier elements. There was more than one person with that "let's see how much we can get out of this guy" look. And, as is apparently the norm in Nicaragau, plenty of people saying "Give me a dollar" as I walk by.

I did get to hang out with my first Nico (Nicaraguan), although even that was kind of disappointing.

I have no pictures of Managua because I did not take my camera with me when exploring it. The crime rate was too high in some parts of town to risk carrying my camera. In the end, I didn't go through those parts.

Details

When I got to Managua and got off the bus, I ended up sharing an overpriced taxi with a Dutch guy whom I chatted with.

When my taxi passed the Ticabus station down the street from the hotel I wanted to go to, a tout ran after the taxi so he could get to the hotel gate before I did. The hotel was overpriced (and I wonder if the tout resulted in a price increase.) I could not get rid of the tout until I headed to an area where he apparently could not get commissions. He tried to convince me that they were too expensive.

My hotel seemed fine at first, but then I realized that the walls did not go all the way up to the ceiling. The result: you could hear every sound anywhere in that part of the building. If someone showered, you could hear it. In the morning, the music and cooking from the kitchen came in loud and clear. I moved to another hotel the next day and it was even worse. That one had a leaky shower head which made the room super-humid. I tried to fix this by tightly wrapping plastic around it with rubber bands. For a shower with no pressure, it had enough pressure to explode the plastic.

My first evening in Managua was spent meeting Oscar, who lives there. We walked around my neighborhood a bit, stopped by the big mall there, and had dinner in a restaurant nearby. Oscar is lawyer by training. He was working in Panama and is now getting certified for Nicaragua. Our conversation was fine, but a little bit depressing. Neither of us made an effort to get together again that weekend.

When I left after dinner, I was advised to take a cab the 5 blocks to my hotel. I knew that the neighborhood was dangerous after dark.

The next day, I decided to see a bit of Managua. I considered going to the area monumental--the destroyed former center of town. However, I knew that this was a crime ridden part of town and didn't want to be bothered with that that day. Instead, I walked up the hill to the lagoon. From there, I got a good view of the area monumental and Lake Managua behind it. I could see the remains of the cathedral very clearly.

The lagoon itself was OK, but nothing spectacular.

After the lagoon, I decided to walk to the Zona Rosa, which I had ascertained from locals was a safe walk. Safe, but not particularly attractive. The most interesting things were casinos and this odd church with tons of little hemispheres all over the roof. (It was, unfortunately, pretty ugly.)

It was without much regret that I left Managua less than two days after arriving.

Ometepe, Nicaragua 01/16/08-01/18/08

2008-02-01T13:19:00.000-08:00

Highlights:

Pushing a truck out of a ditch
Walking around the island
Talking to a Managuan pen-pal

Summary

Omoptepe is a volcanic island in the middle of the giant Lake Nicaragua. It is two islands joined by an isthmus. Each smaller island had a volcano at its center. There are beaches around the island and several small towns. Most of the towns are so small that they are not distinguishable as town. The only towns with populations over a few hundred are Myogalpa, where the ferry stops, and the smaller, more laid back Altagracia. I decided to stay in Altagracia.

My intent was to take the bus around the island, maybe go to some of the beaches, and, hopefully, climb the smaller volcano. After walking around the island a bit, I realized that my feet were not in good enough shape to do an 8 hour strenuous hike on a volcano. (My feet have been sore off and on since I was in Tikal.)

I contented myself with my walk around the island and decided to just get on with my trip.

Details

The day I left Granada, I kept waking up in the the early morning, particularly after this wierd dream where I was trying to get a vegetarian sandwich in the middle of the night. in a (non-existant) restaurant in St. Libory known for cooking beans in the can on the stove until they exploded.

I packed and to my horror discovered that the water was off. fortunately, it came back on before I needed to shower.

I took my bag to what I thought was the bus stop for Rivas. Fortunately, I asked a woman there and she and others there told me it was around the corner.

There were a lot of stops along the way to pick up people. The bus got pretty packed. I liked the road we were on, even if the bus did have to veer to avoid potholes. It did not have lines for the first part and had trees along it and was surrounded by mostly flat, non-jungle land. Then it turned to jungle.

When we got to Rivas, people shuffled us to the microbus to San Jorge. For 5 cordobas, they took us directly to the ferry dock. I bought my ticket at the ticket booth, while most just paid on the ferry. The ferry left at noon, about 20 minutes after we arrived. Very good timing.

I did not go on top of the boat for fear of getting motion sickness. I sat in the middle of the cabin and did not see much, other than cheesy Sanish-language music videos. The ride was a bit over an hour. It was kind of choppy, so I was glad that I got the ferry and not the smaller boat.

When the boat arrived at Myogalpa, I hopped on the bus to Altagracia. It was hot, and we waited quite a while. The bus got really packed along the way. The island is pretty, but the towns do not seem to be. An hour or so later, we reached Altagracia. It was disappointing that there were not many places where one could see the volcanoes or beaches from the bus.

When I got off the bus in Altagracia, I walked two blocks south to my hotel. This guy on a bike kept trying to suggest hotels and saying that he could be a guide on a volcano hike. He did not take the hints that I was not interested in hiring someone off the street.

I got to the hotel and got a nice room for US$5, which I then had to switch because of a pluming problem--the water from the sink poured onto the floor.

While having lunch in the hotel restaurant, I asked the woman at the hotel if I should be suspicious of people who talk to me in the street. She said it depends on the person. Lo and behold, five minutes later, the guy on the bike came by while she was at the door. They exchanged a few words. I told her that he was the guy I was talking about. She said to avoid him. He was bad news.

I walked around town a little. There is not much to walk around. A lot of the roads are just dirt. There is nothing here, which is not so bad, except that they do have people trying to get the attention of tourists. That has become my new prime factor in whether I like a town or not. I just want a place where I can be left alone.

I unsuccessfully tried to find the beach near town.

The next day I decided to walk to the other half of the island. It was a pleasant walk down the main road, where I encountered a truck that was sideways in the road with its rear wheels stuck in a ditch. I put down my bag and helped push the truck out of the ditch which with the extra hands, was quite easy.

I found the turnoff to the Isthmus, but after that, I did not know where I was. It was a pleasant walk among plantain and banana groves, with a few corn fields and some animals. I regularly ran across pigs, horses, cows, and chickens just loose in the streets or yards. There were some beautiful blue birds with long tails among the banana trees.

I had planned to go to the big beach on the isthmus, but never found it. The map in Lonely Planet was not very detailed. I thought I had passed the town and was walking on the other island, but found out later that this was not the case. I had turned around and walked to a beach, but not the one I was headed for. There was one family there further down.

I walked back toward Altagracia, passing the little river where I had seen woman washing clothes earlier. It was a very hot, sunny walk. I was sweating a lot Thankfully, my REI sunscreen seems to have held up. Before I reached the paved road, I had to walk through a herd of cattle coming the other way.

I reached an intersection prior to the paved road and decided to head down toward the shore. It took me past farm land. The lane was very rough and rocky and was lined with a stone wall. It was quite picturesque, but I did not go all the way down because I was beginning to doubt that it went to the shore.

Back at the hotel, I used the trash can in my room to wash some clothes in the shower. I desperately needed some clean clothes but did not have the chance to take it to the laundry.

The power went off and on for several minutes at a time that night. That meant no fan, but the evening was fairly cool, so this was not too bad. It didn't help with drying my laundry, though.

During one of the outages, I listened to Spanish lessons. During another, I decided to finally call Oscar in Managua--someone I had met on the net. To my surprise, he spoke English. He had never uttered a word of English in all of our chats and e-mails. He seemed to be quite looking forward to meeting me. From what he says, he has no social life. When I told him that I was thinking of going to Managua this weekend and asked if he had plans, he said, no, he never has plans on weekends.

One interesting thing that Oscar said was that he feels old. He is only 26. He said he sees all of these 15 and 16 year olds and feels old. I asked why he was hanging around so many 15 year olds and he pointed out that most of the country's population is below 20.

I went to bed, pretty sure that I was going to Managua in the morning.

The next day, I packed my clothes, which were still wet from the previous days washing. I walked with my bags to the town square to catch the bus to the pier at Mayogalpa. I sat on a bench an asked the old lady next to me if this was the stop for the Mayogalpa bus. She said that it was, and when the bus came, she got up and signalled for me to follow.

When I got to the pier, I had the option of hopping right on the panga with the potential for seasickness or wait two hours for the ferry. I hopped on the panga. It was a lot calmer than I expected. I sat up top, fortunately shaded by the cabin behind me, and looked backward.

I sat next to an Irish couple, and we chatted a bit on the way over.

When we reached the shore, we saw people wearing shirts that read "tourist assistance" in Spanish. We had a good laugh at that. Someone tried to get me to take an overpriced taxi or shuttle to Rivas. I said I was taking the minibus. He said there was none. I told him that I had taken it to get here, and he left me alone.

When we got to Rivas, I immediately hopped on a bus to Managua. I had them put my pack on the roof, then realized that it would have fit in the overhead rack and that Managua is not a place to have your luggage out of your sight.

One time when the bus stopped, they popped the hood and added water. The bus sounded fine and nothing seemed wrong, but I was wary. Then the bus stopped again. They turned off the engine, popped the hood again, and added water again. People (me included) thought that the bus had broken down and some had started to move off. However, the bus had stopped because of a traffic jam, and once the jam was moving, we got to Managua without incident.

Granada, Nicaragua 01/10/08-01/16/08

2008-02-01T13:02:00.000-08:00

Highlights:

Disenchanted by Granada
I lost my shorts.
I started drinking beer.
Creative packaging

Summary of Granada:

Granada is Nicragua's tourist center. It is a colonial city with a central square surrounded by beautiful colonial buildings. There is plenty of tourist infrastructure, and all the parasites that go with it. I got a lot more of their attention than I wanted. As a result, I did not get a warm feeling from Granada. I just got the sense that I was viewed as a source of money and that there was no intention to be nice to me to get it.

Don't get me wrong--the people working in the restaurants and hotels are just fine, and if you ask a stranger a question (e.g., "Where is the bus station?") they are very friendly. It is just that there are way too many people trying to get your attention, and when someone tries to get a tourist's attention, it is never to the tourist's benefit. It isn't even so much the "Hey, come take my tour/use my taxi/eat at my restaurant/shop at my store" and other semi-legitimate stuff--in fact, I see surprisingly little of that. It isn't even the beggars. It's the panhandlers and the people who seem to just want to annoy you because you are a tourist. Granted, these people are a tiny percent of the people around, but if you can't walk down the street with out someone harranging you, it is little comfort that most of the people are not. The ubiquitous "Give me a dollar" people are here, of course, but the odd thing is that some of them shout it at you with a sneer. I get the impression that the meaning is actually "Screw you, tourist!" but that they don't know the words. Or possibly they know just how annoying it is to have people constantly saying "Give me a dollar". At any rate, it is clearly intended to annoy.

As far as the much touted colonial beauty of Granada, the town square is indeed quite beautiful with its restored colonial buildings. And there are a few nice churches around too, and one or two other restored streets. Other than that, there is not much here. There are plenty of tour agencies, some (relatively) upscale restaurants, and bars. In other words, there is a tourism infrastructure. Tourists come here because is it a place for tourists.

There are several things in the area to do, such as tour the little islands in Lago Nicaragua, and visit nearby volcanos and lagoons. These are also accessible from the nearby town of Masaya, which has fewer annoyances and is more low key. Granada sits on Lago Nicaragua and Masaya sits on Laguna Masaya. I personally think that Laguna Masaya is the prettier of the two.

My goal in Granada was to relax. I had been traveling very fast for the previous several days and needed to just take a break. That I did, but I could have chosen a better place to do it.

The Details:

I took the microbus from Leon to Managua. I hopped right into another microbus to Granada and was on my way.

The microbus dropped me at the square downtown. I walked from the square toward the market where my first choice hotel was located. It was starting to drizzle. I already liked Granada more than Leon. It was much more lively. I would later revise this opinion after getting sick of people annoying me.

I walked through the market to the hotel, which is right in the market area across from the interesting old market building. Surprisingly, the hotel (Hospidaje Esfinge) is quiet--the sound from the chaotic market outside does not penetrate. There is a little courtyard shaded by vines with tables and hammocks.

Every day in Granada, I had lunch at a little place a block from my hotel--Cafetin La Laguna. The young waiter got to know my order by the third day--plate of the day with a glass of water. Service was very attentive there--a rarity in Nicaragua. The pleasant service was the main reason I came there every day.

I walked to the square and around. I walked down the touristy street towards the lake. This was not so cool. The developed part abruptly ended in dirt where the renovation is continuing. I walked all the way to the lake, with a cute kid rolling a tire tagging along part of the way trying to get money from me.

The lake was not very pretty. Much worse were the swarms of flying insects that were like clouds there. They were like tiny winged aphids. I did not get a good vibe there either. I definitely felt one of those "I'm the only tourist in a place with many predators" feelings. I walked back to downtown. I saw a few churches and took pics. I felt like I had done everything there was to do already. It made me wonder what the rest of my trip will be like. It seems like I am getting to places, walking around for an hour, and saying "Is that it?"

I really did very little in Granada. Other than eat and drink, I don't think there is much to do there. I think it is mainly a launching point to other places. I could have taken a boat trip on the lake.

Just as I was surprised to find myself drinking coffee every day in Mexico, I am even more surprised to find myself drinking beer every day in Nicaragua. I have been ordering it with meals. In Nicaragua, there are 2 local beers--Tona and Victoria. Tona has a milder flavor, so I prefer it. (By the way, I stopped drinking coffee.)

When I took my clothes to the laundry to be washed, they came back minus my only pair of shorts. I went back the next day and was told that I should come back later because the appropriate person was not there. I walked past this place every day, so each day for 6 days I asked, and each day I was told that I needed to come back and ask someone else. Finally, on the last day, I said that this had gone on for a week, either say yes or no. The guy there was kind of shocked that it had gone on so long--I never talked to the same person twice and apparently they were pretty disorganized. After a thorough search of the shop, they were not found, and it was finally over.

I finally burned my photos to CDs. This took longer than hoped. Then I had to package them. Since the only supermarket did not sell tape, I had to wander through the marketplace until I found a stall that sold it. Then I needed cardboard. Fortunately, walking home from the market, I found a discarded piece of cardboard in the gutter--Granada's trash can. A few minutes later, it was all packaged. Unfortunately, I never could find a post office in Granada. It took another week to get it mailed. My point: simple things can be surprisingly hard in an unfamiliar environment.

Speaking of the supermarket, I noticed a sign there that translates to "Always low prices. Always!" Sound familiar? Then I noticed that on the back of one of the cashiers' badge it said Wal-Mart. They really do have there fingers in Latin America.

When I finally left Granada, I headed to the island of Ometepe.

Leon, Nicaragua 01/08/08-01/10/08

2008-02-01T12:32:00.000-08:00

Leon, Nicaragua -- 01/08/08-01/10/08

It has been a while since I have blogged. Since I last wrote about Guatemala, I have seen much more of Guatemala, zipped right through Honduras and El Salvador, spent quite a bit of time in Nicaragua, and a bit of time in Costa Rica and Panama. I am writing this from San Jose, Costa Rica.

I am resuming the blog from the point where I crossed the border into Nicaragua. I will go back and fill in the rest.

Hightlights:

The border crossing from hell.
A tarnished colonial jewel.

Summary of Leon, Nicaragua:

I was not terribly impressed by Leon. It seemed sleepy and kinda dumpy. For one of the two "colonial jewels" of Nicaragua, it was pretty tarnished. The whole city could have used a power wash.

Leon had a nice square with a big church next to it. It had a few decent churches, but after being there for a couple of hours, I just thought, "OK, done that, now what?"

Leon did have a laid back feel which I would appreciate more in the coming weeks. No one tried to screw me over while I was there, and I could walk down a street without demands for money.

Still, I cannot say that Leon is a place that is a must-see. It's more like, "If you happen to be in the area, go ahead and stop there."

The Details:

I woke up in Choluteca, Honduras and hopped on a microbus to the Nicaraguan border at Guasaule. I had been looking forward to Nicaragua and had high hopes.

I was the only white person in the van to the border, and the only one that had to go through the immigration process. When I got to the border, at least 3 guys were poking their heads into the van, all for me. The other people in the van went on their way and a bunch of cyclo drivers and money changers swarmed around me like mosquitos.

As I walked to the immigration booths, a cyclo driver kept hounding me the whole way. At the booth, this driver and a money changer would just not go away. The woman at the Honduras booth told me I had to pay $3. I told her I already paid the $3 fee when I entered. She told me there was an exit fee. I knew there was no exit fee, I'm pretty sure she knew that I knew that, but I was the only person standing there so we both knew that there was nothing I could do. If I had not been constantly harrassed by a cyclo driver and a money changer I might have thought to get her name and ask for a receipt (asking her by name to make the point clear.) Of course, there was no receipt. The Nicaraguan border guy was no problem.

The persistent cyclo driver gave me no end of grief. I got on the bus to Leon and stewed. I waited for an hour before the bus left. A couple of European guys got on before we left.

The bus ride to Leon was uneventful. As is more often the case than not, I did not get any change from the bus conductor. I've come to refer to this as "the white tax". The road on the Nicaraguan side of the border was quite a bit rougher than the others I have been on on this trip. Once we reached Chinandega, the first major city, things smoothed out. There were good views of the volcano near Leon. The land was basically flat with the exception of the volcanoes.

At the Leon bus station, I could not get my bearings. It was in the middle of a market and my compass was giving me flakey readings, as usual. (Why the hell do all compasses have that damn bubble in them? It screws everything up.) I asked a couple of people for the direction of the central parque. The first one was just waving his hand in no particular direction and was incomprehensible. The second guy gave me specific directions but seemed to think I was kind of crazy to walk there. It was longer than hoped, but not bad.

I walked to Hotel America, which was in the market section near the square. The neighborhood was loud and the store next door was blasting music into the street. My room had a window at street level and was full of the store's music. It was not much to look at. I took it because I did not want to drag my my bag anymore.

As it turns out, the hotel was fine. When the market died down in the afternoon and the store next door closed, it was quite peaceful.

I ended up eating at the touristy restaurant near the square (I was starving) which was actually quite good, and the plate of the day was reasonably priced. Then I got a pint of ice cream and a some milk at the grocery store and pigged out. I had hardly eaten anything but breakfast for 2 days.

I expected to leave after that first day, but I felt lazy when I woke up, so I stayed a second day and looked arond more.

I ate lunch at Buen Gusto down the street from my hotel. There was a buffet table and a woman behind it. I pointed at the things I wanted, taking a suggestion, and she piled it on the plate. She took it to the cashier. It was about $2. It was very filling and quite tasty--particularly the shredded meat and the veggies with some kind of sour cream sauce.

I walked around and took pictures. I liked Leon better the second day.

I walked to the south end of town and saw a little bridge. I walked there and looked down. It was basically a sewer with grey water and black scum floating on it. I later saw it labeled in Lonely Planet as a river.

That night, as I was lying in bed with my eyes closed, I began seeing these flashes of light out of the corner of my eye every couple of minutes. Great. What now? A detached retina? In the morning as I was lying in bed I discovered what the flashes were: the flourescent light overhead would flash every minute or two.

I think it had been exactly 3 months since I left California. I thought, "It would be nice to be home for a few weeks about now." I never got that burned out in Asia.

In the morning, I walked to the bus station, going through some livestock market street, and hopped on a microbus to Managua.

Panajachel, Guatemala, 12/10/07-12/12/07

2007-12-17T16:47:00.001-08:00

Panajachel, more commonly known as Pana, and derogatorily known as "Gringotenango", is a tourist trap of a town on Lago de Atitlan. Lago de Atitlan is beautiful lake in the southwest of Guatemala between Xela and Antigua. The lake is ringed with 3 dormant volcanoes and is itself a crater lake.

The things to do in Panajachel are look at the lake, take a boat across the lake to other little towns, and hike. Unfortunately, due to robberies and the like, one needs to hike with an armed policeman provided by the government. I usually like to hike, but somehow thought that the serenity of the natural beauty would be spoiled by the presence of an armed guard.

I stayed two nights in Pana in a hotel on the lake shore. My room was on the upper floor and had a great view of the lake and volcanoes. Well, except when I woke that first morning to see freshly washed towels strung in front of my window.

I went to the lake shore the first day to watch the sunset. Who should wander by but a guy I was talking to at the hot springs a day or two before.

I had dinner at a restaurant whose front was open to th street. While waiting for my food, people would come by trying to sell things. One of the child vendors saw my PDA and was obviously curios. He was maybe 8. He went to the other side of the table and looked some more, not hiding his curiosity as an adult would. He asked if he could see it. I showed him the screen which had the solitaire game I was playing. He came back around to the other side and I kind of shooed him off. He was back a moment later on his way out of the restaurant and asked if he could have a piece of the buttery toasted bread that was sitting in the basket at my table. I said that he could and he quickly grabbed one and ran away like a squirrel scampering off with a proffered nut. Several minutes later after my food came, another kid came by. He was sort of standing at a little distance and saying something. He would sort of say it coyly and dart away. I realized that he was asking if he could have some bread. I guess word got around. I asked if he wanted a piece, he said yes, and I held the basket out for him. He grabbed one and ran off, kind of giggling. For this kid, I think it was more a game than a desire for the bread. I didn't mind. I was entertained.

The next morning I decided to walk to the next town. When I left, I carried only the bare essentials and my cell phone. I did not want anything vital stolen if I was robbed on the way. This meant leaving the camera at home. The walk was fine, but no real glorious views materialized. When I got to Santa Catarina Palopo, I walked to the shore. It was a beautiful view. When I sat near the water's edge and saw the volcanoes framed by willow branches with tufts of water grass in the foreground, I really wished that I had had my camera.

I decided to have lunch at the little restaurant overlooking the lake there. It was more for the view than because I was hungry. I was the only person in the place. This was definitely not another "Gringotenango".

On the walk back, I passed some kids sitting on piles of firewood. I remembered them from the walk there. The oldest was probably 12. As I approached, he asked, "Agua pura?"

"No, gracias," I said, thinking he was trying to sell me some water.

"No," he said. "For me."

I still had a lot of water left so I pulled the bottle out of the plastic bag I was carrying. He drank enthusiastically and handed it to the two other little boys. They handed me back the little that was left.

As they drank, I asked if they were out here all day with no drinking water. He said yes and I clucked my tongue as they drank. I don't know if that was true or if they were just trying to see if they could get the gringo to give them water. But they seemed genuinely thirsty. The oldest (who did all the talking) asked where I was from.

I went back home and chilled. After a while, I realized that it had gotten dark and I was missing the sunset. I ran to the rooftop to watch the remains of the sunset. As I watched the sun setting behind the volcanoes, I had this burst of appreciation of how lucky I am. Not that many people have had the chance to see the things that I have.

That night, after dinner, I had the waiter pack my leftover pizza in case some kid wanted it. I went to use the net, and sure enough some kid came in with his baby sister on his back. He asked for something and I asked if he wanted pizza. He took it, but a little hesitantly, and then told me to buy him a coke. I said, no I wasn't buying anything.

Fuentes Georginas Hot Springs, Guatemala 12/08/07-12/10/07

2007-12-11T19:39:00.001-08:00

Fuentes Georginas is a hot springs near Xela, Guatemala. They are set in a mountainous cloud forest a few miles outside of the small town of Zunil (whose patron saint drinks and smokes.)Most people go to Fuentes Georginas as a day trip, but there are about 10 small cabins there for people who want to stay the night. I decided that I would kill to get some peace and quiet, so I booked a cabin for two nights-about US$12 a night with access to the bathing pools all night.I was the only passenger in the shuttle from Xela to the hot springs. The driver sort of acted as a tour guide. He is an American who fell in love in Xela and decided to stay. He told me how the locals switched from subsistence corn farming to growing vegetables. He pointed out all of the (very small) irrigation pipes. He pointed out where the new hydroelectric power plant was being built. He even went with me to make sure I got checked in and I showed him the cabin since he had never been in one and was curious.

The ride between Zunil and the hot springs was pretty amazing. Cloud forest covered mountains and valleys with a layer of mist rolling in from the unseen ocean many miles to the west.

I was totally pleased with the place. The hot springs were pretty basic--no spa resort here. I was very glad of that. There are 3 pools--the top one is the largest and hottest. It drains to the second pool which is shallower and cooler. Finally, the water runs to the third pool which is shallowest and coolest. Alongside the big pool is a restaurant/bar. The end of the big pool is an almost vertical wall up the forest. The spring comes out here. The whole place was shrouded in afternoon fog. There were maybe 20 people there, a mix of whites and latinos.

After the place closed and I had finished bathing and eating, I went back to my cabin. It had gotten quite chilly, so I decided to light a fire in the fireplace. (The cabins are not heated. In fact, I have not stayed anywhere with heat since I left the US.) It was my first time lighting a fireplace, and after an hour of frustration and my last piece of kindling, it was blazing.

Since they turn of the power at 10pm, I peaked outside around 9:30 to listen if anyone was out and about. When I stepped out my door, it was pitch black. There was no way I was going to walk the 20 yards to the pools in this. I could not see anything. I lit my LED flashlight so I could walk out far enough from my door to see the sky. I thought there would be mist obscuring the stars, but it was clear. The starts were amazingly bright and sharp. I read on the net that day that there was a meteor shower reaching its peak in a few days. I looked for some, but only stayed out for a couple of minutes. It was way too cold out to hang out long.

I awoke around dawn--7am or so. There was a bit of shouting a bit later, similar to last night when it got dark. All in all, there is not much shouting around here when it is just the cabin dwellers. When I first heard the shouting the previous night it did foster the thought: What is it about human nature that when we encounter a beautiful, tranquil, quiet setting, we feel compelled to spoil it by shouting at the top of our lungs? It is a truly an annoying characteristic.

After a morning bathe in the pools to defrost, I walked up the hiking paths into the surrounding hills. It was pretty in the cloud forests, but not much in terms of views. What would have been fantastic views were obscured by trees. It was kinda cool walking through the bamboo part where bamboo leaves carpeted the ground pretty thickly. I was surprised to find a lone grave up there marked with a simple wooden cross.

I took one snapshot of a vista. When I turned around and came back, what was a clear vista 15 minutes earlier was now just a wall of fog.

In the evening, I met a guy named Ken in the pool. He and his girlfriend are super low-budget travelers. I got to talking with them. In the end, it was decided that I would get to Xela tomorrow with them via pickup and chicken bus.

The next morning, after our morning bathe, we hopped in the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot. The girl (Adrien?) negotiated the price--US$6 for the 3 of us. Someone else I talked to yesterday payed that much per person.

The ride back to Zunil in the back of that truck was fantastic. Surprisingly, I was not freezing. It was great to see the views in 360 degrees. The couple and I talked about the vegetables in the fields we passed. They are small organic farmers in Maine.

Once in Zunil, we hopped on a bus destined for Xela. It was my first "chicken bus" (long distance, no frills bus) in Guatemala. In fact, I think the only other one I've been on was in India. It was actually quite nice. The owner clearly took pride in his vehicle. It was spotless inside and out. It was an old Blue Bird school bus, but the outside had been painted, a little chrome added, and some adornments placed around the driver's area. All of these buses in Guatemala seem to have names--usually women's names.

The bus took us to the main bus terminal in Xela. When I say bus terminal, it was not like a nice airport-like building like in Mexico. It was basically a wide point in the road with several long lines of buses parallel to each other. It was slightly organized chaos, with a minor market forming around the buses and vendors wending their ways through and on the buses.

This was where I parted ways with the Maine farmers. I was so encouraged by my travels so far today, that I decided to just get on another chicken bus and head to Panajachel. I wandered through the maze of buses and market stalls until a guy asked me where I was going. He then took me to the appropriate bus. The bus was scheduled to leave at 10. I got on at 9:45. It leaft at 10:20. I breathed a lifetime's worth of exhaust in that period.

The ride to Panajachel was fine. There were a couple of 10 minute stops for road construction. I did find that by the end of the 2 1/2 hour trip, my knees were a little achey (these were school buses made for kid-sized legs) and I was getting a mild headache. Nonetheless, I am a convert. For the most part, it is now chicken buses for me. It is just so much easier to schedule them than shuttles or "luxury" buses.

Quetzaltenango (Xela), Guatemala 12/06/07-12/08/07

2007-12-11T19:31:00.000-08:00

I am falling behind in my blogs, so I will be doing them out of order. I am writing this in Antigua, Guatemala. Prior to getting here, I was in Oaxaca, Mexico; Tehuantepec, Mexico; San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico; Quetzeltenango (Xela), Guatemala; Fuentes Georginas Hot Springs, Guatemala; and Panajachel, Guatemala.

I'm in Guatemala because, well, it's on my way. Several people have sung the praises of Antigua, so I am curious to see it.

I'll start this blog entry from my departure from Mexico.

I woke up early in San Cristobal, packed, and got picked up by the shuttle to Guatemala. I was the second to last person to be picked up and when we picked up the last group, there was some shuffling. Two shuttles where driving together (a good safety precaution) and I got shuffled to the second one while my baggage stayed in the first. This was fine, but it meant that when we got to the border, I had to wait for my luggage before getting on the shuttle on the Guatemalan side. Because I was in between the two groups of people, I caught up with the first group and asked where to get my passport stamped. There was a miscommunication (with another American) and I was told that the next shuttle would take me there. If I had just opened my eyes, I would have realized that this was not true. I was 50 feet from the immigration control point. Once we were on our way in the shuttle, it shortly became clear that I was screwed. I was in Guatemala without my visas stamp. A week and a half later I would end up making a run to Guatemala City to get this fixed.

The mountainous scenery in Guatemala was beautiful.

My destination in Guatemala was Quetzeltenango, known more commonly in Guatemala as Xela (SHELL ah). Xela is a highland town and is the second largest city in Guatemala. The focal point of the town is the central park, which although small, is quite nice. It is surrounded by old colonial buildings. Unfortunately, that is pretty much the only interesting part of Xela. It is definitely less touristy than Antigua and less grungy than Guatemala City. Not a bad city, just not overly exciting.

I checked out a guesthouse recommended by the guidebook. Although my Spanish is not great, I can usually pick up quite a bit of what people are saying. With the young guy who showed me the room at the guesthouse, I was thining, "Is this guy even speaking actual words?" If this was how all Guatemalans talked, I was going to be in trouble. Fortunately, it was not. I did not stay at the guesthouse because the room was right off the kitchen and I did not want the noise.

Instead, I stayed at an even dumpier place that ended up being just as noisy. No matter.
That first evening I ended up having dinner with four women, two of whom were waiting outside for the restaurant to open when I arrived. The other two were the pair from Maryland whom I talked to on the shuttle.

After dinner, I picked up a SIM card for my phone at a little store next to the restaurant. It was with the phone company Claro. It only cost around US$6. Unfortunately, it kind of sucked. Most of my calls in Xela were not completed. I had to try many times before I could send a text message. People had to try many times before they could reach me. On many calls, I could hear the other person, but they could not hear me (both local and international.) When I got to Panajachel and Antigua, things worked much better.

I spent half of the next day sick in bed. I felt exhausted, my stomache was a bit woozy, but mainly, I had the trots. Six hours later I was fine. I think my immune system has gotten very good at fighting off foreign bacteria.

It turns out that the guy who runs/owns/lives in the house where I was staying lived for several months in San Mateo, California which borders Belmont where I used to live.

By the second full day in Xela, I was making plans to leave. I made a reservation for a cabin at the hot springs nearby. I was going to arrange a shuttle there, but there was a miscommunication between me and the guesthouse owner (who also runs a tour agency).
I went around town taking photos, which I had not yet done. Not much to take, other than the square.

I had dinner at this "Middle Eastern" restaurant, Cafe el Arabe, which I only mention because I swear that the meat was carved out of salt. I was warned that the food here can be salty.

Here is today's bullet list: Concepts not understood in Guatemala:

A full bus
Too much salt
Peace and quiet

Except for the one about salt, they apply to Mexico as well.

I was very tired and tried to sleep early, but the house's owner had the morning's tour group staying over, so there was an hour of noise and mayhem. After that (around 11 or so) it was fine.

The next day, I discovered that the shuttles to the hot springs only ran if two or more tickets were purchased. I purchased two and killed several hours until the afternoon departure. I walked to a point overlooking Xela and snapped a few pictures.

The Pyramids of Teotihuacán, 11/20/07

2007-12-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

The pyrimads of Teotihuacan are about an hour away from Mexico City by bus. There are some very nice pyramids and platforms and lots crumbled ruins of which little remain.

My journey started with a ride on the Mexico City metro to the northern bus station. There is a bus line that has a direct bus to the pyramids. It also serves a nearby town, and I was surprised that I was the only person to get off the bus at the pyramids. (Thankfully, the bus driver gave me a little prod at the appropriate time.)

There were not many people at the ruins when I got there. As such, I got even more attention from the people selling trinkets. They didn´t try the hard sell, though.
When I go on these little excursions, I always make sure that I pack some food in my bag. Except that day. I had the food but forgot to put it in my bag. After about 10 minutes of walking around, I was really kicking myself. And the museum snack shop was closed that day, naturally. I managed to make it through without too much trouble.

You can climb up a large number of the ruins, including the two big pyrimads--the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. The Pyramid of the Sun is the larger and is quite a climb. You can go all the way to the top and get a 360 degree view of the surrounding countryside and the other ruins.

One can only climb part of the way up the Pyramid of the Moon, but it is still a good view. While up there, I took a picture for some German guy who in turn took the picture of me you see here, with the Pyramid of the Sun in the background.

When it came time to leave, I had to ask where to catch the bus. The guy at the entrance told me which exit to use to catch the bus, but there was no marked bus stop. I asked the guard there where to catch the bus. I asked in Spanish, but he responded in English. I guess that shows how good my Spanish is.

I waited across the street to catch the bus at the unmarked bus stop. I was the only one to get on the bus. It was an uneventful ride back to Mexico City, where I finally got some food, after way too much walking to get to a restaurant.

Mexico City 11/17/07-11/27/07

2007-11-28T12:02:00.000-08:00

I Recently visited an interesting city--see if you can guess which one:

I was in a Wal-mart packed with Mexicans. (No, I was not back in Mountain View.)
While walking down the street, I found myself in the middle of a hundred or more nude protesters wearing nothing but a picture of the president covering their goodies. (No, I was not back in San Francisco.)
I wandered through a mall that was totally devoted to all things Jesus. (If you need a reliquary, I know where you can get one.)
A few blocks away, I ran into another mall that was devoted to all things sexual.
I went to a subway station to see a miracle--a piece of concrete with a water stain in the image of the Virgin Mary. (It had to be removed from the subway and placed outside in a little shrine because thousands of people were clogging the metro station to see it.)

If you guessed Mexico City, you are correct. If you did not guess Mexico City, you have problems--I gave you the answer in the title of the post.

I have gotten some feedback on previous blog entries. One was essentially, "Be more narrative." Another was, "Tell us more about your motivations rather than just what you did and saw."

So, here is some of my motivation for going to Mexico City: First of all, it is the second largest city (metro area, aglomeration, whatever you want to call it) in the world after Tokyo. That in itself made it interesting. On top of this, it has a reputation for a vibrant cultural scene. It also has many historical buildings, (some ancient,) varied neighborhoods, and is the melting pot of Mexico. Admittedly, one of the major factors was that Mexico City was on my travel route anyway.

Mexico City has some downsides, most notably, its famous crime rate. I was a bit intimidated by the city.

My bus ride to Mexico City from Guanajuato was uneventful. Upon arriving, I had the option of taking the metro (subway) to my hotel or taking a cab. Given the city's reputation for crime, I decided to take a taxi rather than the metro.

I was pleasantly surprised by my hotel (Hotel Rioja)--it was right in the center of the historic district, was quite nice, and was only US$20. However, when I took my first walk around the historic district, I was disappointed. I guess I had an image derived from guide books and other cities in Mexico. The buildings here were not as grand as I expected, everything seemed dingy from years of pollution, and things seemed kind of dead.

The fact that things were dead could partially be explained because it was a Mexican holiday weekend. Lots of people were out of town. When I went out that first evening to find something to eat, I was really creeped out. The streets around my hotel were practically empty. Before turning down a street, I had to make sure that there were other people walking down it as well. For the center of the second largest city in the world, it was like a tomb. I was not getting a good first impression of the city. I was later told that that part of town was not generally very lively after dark. It did get much better later in the week. The empty streets were somewhat mitigated by the fact that there were police at practically every corner. (It is the heart of tourism for the city, after all.)

The metro in Mexico City is great. For 2 pesos (about US$0.20) you can get to most places in the city.

I met several people in Mexico City and became friends with couple of them. First was Jorge. Jorge is a 37 year old professional who is very helpful, very open to suggestions, and very stable. Jorge did the most to show me around town. We spent a Sunday afternoon having lunch in the upscale yuppie neighborhood of Condesa, and then we went to the quaint old neighborhood of Coyoacan. From there he drove me to the new financial district in the Sante Fe neighborhood. This consisted of a few skyscrapers and very little else. There were some condos which are apparently exhorbitantly expensive. We made a bathroom stop at the mall there. It was large and very upscale--think Prada, Coach, etc. We ended the Mexico City tour in Zona Rosa, which is simultaneously upscale and kinda sleazy.

Jorge and I ended up having several meals together throughout the week. One was at a Thai/Vietnamese/Malaysian restaurant in the Condesa. It was OK, but I did not recognize most of the things on the menu. The food was fine, but not as I would have expected. And it cost 4 times as much as the same food in the US. Food is not particularly cheap here. It was at this restaurant, where we discussed foreign food and some travels, that Jorge made the statement that I have heard a few times in my travels: "You are not like other Americans." I asked him how so, but the only thing that came across clearly was that I liked trying different things.

The other person I hung around with a lot was Julio. Julio is a very independent, but very responsible and decisive, 29-year-old who is self-employed as an event planner. (He is currently arranging corporate sponsorship for a rock concert.) One night, he decided to show me one of the bars near my place--the Oasis. When we walked in, he stopped in his tracks. We were easily the youngest people there. We decided to stay anyway and had a couple of beers and chatted. We left there just after midnight (he had just turned 29 at midnight) and walked to Plaza Garibaldi, which I had not yet seen. We were surprised to see the place packed after midnight on a Thursday. There was a mariachi band on the stage and tons of people and vendors around. I had forgotten that there was a music festival in town this week.

The following Saturday, Julio, two of his friends, and I went to the dance club Living. When we got there, the guy at the door asked for my ID. I did not have one. When I am at home, I never go anywhere without ID, so I never have to think about it. When I am traveling in other countries, no one ever asks for ID, so the fact that I leave my ID locked up in my hotel room is not usually an issue. The guy at the door decided it was an issue. Julio suggested that we go to another club, to the visible disappointment of the other two. Instead, I told them to go inside and I would take a taxi to my hotel and get some ID and come back. Fortunately, I did my homework before they picked me up and I knew that there was a taxi stand right next to the club. I got a taxi, went to my hotel, got my ID, came back, and rejoined them. I managed to make my requirements clear to the taxi driver in Spanish.

At this point, I should say a few things about taxis in Mexico City. You know how I had that post about how I hate taxis? The taxis in Mexico City are so bad that even locals are wary of them. Taxis are one of the more dangerous things in Mexico City. Taxi drivers are involved in robberies and kidnappings on a regular basis. I only felt comfortable taking the taxi from the bus station and the nightclub because they were "sitio" taxis--that is, the taxis were associated with the taxi stand. The trips made by these taxis are recorded and dispatched through the stand. The prices are fixed, so there are no "scenic drives" to run up the meter. These are much safer than hailing a taxi on the street. When I recounted my tale of taking the taxi from the club to Jorge, he was impressed--both by the fact that in my limited Spanish I managed to communicate with the driver what I needed and by the fact that I was so careful about my taxi selection. He recounted a story of how he hailed a taxi in the street which then stopped in a bad neighborhood where the driver's accomplices robbed him. They made him get out of the taxi in this bad neighborhood where another guy immediately tried to rob him, refusing to believe that he had just been robbed already.

Anyway, back to the story. I met the guys in the club. By this time it was probably 1:00am. (They did not pick me up until about midnight.) The club was actually quite nice. It was in an old historic building whose interior had been done in a more modern style with state of the art lights and sound. There was a large main dancefloor with a smaller dancefloor around the corner. There were several smaller side room used for bars and small, casual lounge areas. There were also a few small balcony areas. The place was ludicrously expensive, though. The cover was US$20 and drinks were over US$9. We ended up leaving shortly after 3am.

The day before I left Mexico City, Julio showed me a few more places in the historic district. However, before he got there, I decided to go see the Virgin of the Metro--the miraculous piece of stained concrete I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Well. What can I say? I think I saw the image. It was hard to tell with all of the glare from the plexiglass covering it.

On the way to and from the Virgin viewing, I saw the nude protesters (also mentioned previously) for the second time that week. Fortunately for you, I had my camera this time. The first time I encountered them, I was walking down the street when someone tried to hand me a flyer. This happens all the time everywhere in the world, and my response is always the same--a shake of the head and I move on. I just do not want to carry around extra paper or fill up a trash can, particularly if I probably will not understand what is on the paper anyway. However, in this case, after shaking my head, I looked up and noticed that the woman handing it to me was naked. "That's odd," I thought. Then I saw another woman a few yards away also naked and handing out flyers. And these were not women that you would particularly care to see naked. I had been hearing a drum beat for the past several blocks but thought nothing of it. There was usually some sort of noise-generating event going on downtown. As the drum beat got closer, I noticed a hundred or more naked guys at a major intersection dancing (well, jumping around) to the drum beat. They all had pictures of Mexican President Calderon used as a sort of loin cloth. In order to cross the street, one had to walk through them. Usually, protests have a somber, sometimes menacing tone. Not this one. Most were smiling and dancing. I guess the thing was to make a spectacle and get their message across.

Anyway, I went back to my hotel, Julio showed up, we had lunch and he showed me around the palace a few blocks from my hotel. Inside are many murals by famed Mexican artist Diego Rivera. Julio seemed very knowledgable about the paintings. It was like having my own private docent.

After the palace, we ducked into the lobby of the Hotel Ciudad de Mexico. It was a very nice old building with much wrought iron and a ceiling made of a sort of domed stained glass skylight. Julio mentioned that the hotel was a popular spot for photo shoots. Indeed, on the stairs opposite was a photo shoot in progress. The model was wearing a hat and a trenchcoat. And nothing else. The photographer was capturing all of the man's features, but nothing was visible from the lobby except that he was, indeed, naked.

While we walked around, I mentioned the "Jesus Mall" to him--a moniker which made him laugh--and somehow the subject of the sex mall came up. He was surprised that I knew about it. (Lonely Plantet is a very thorough guide book.) Then he got it into his head that we had to go see it. He had never been there and was curious to see what it was about. After walking way out of our way, he asked directions and found out it was about 2 blocks from where we started. It was nothing very impressive, but it was interestingly non-sleazy in feel. We were actually kind of bored by it.

Later in the day, Julio and I had dinner in the Casa Azul (Blue House) which is an old historic building covered in blue and white tiles. It is now owned by the department store chain Sanborne's. (This chain is owned by the Mexican telecom magnate who is poised to become the richest man in the world.) After dinner, we headed to a well-known all-night churro shop (it was about midnight) for churros and hot chocolate. These are the only items on their menu.

Also, while I was in Mexico City, I took a day trip to the pyramids of Teotihuacan which are an hour outside the city. I will talk about that in a separate blog entry.

Well, I could go on, but I have discovered a salsa stain on my shirt that looks just like the Virgin Mary and I need to contact the Vatican.

P.S. Since Mexico City, I have been to Oaxaca, Tehuantepec, San Cristobal, and am planning to head to Quetzaltenango, Guatemala tomorrow. Eventually, I will catch up on my blogging.

San Miguel de Allende, 11/10/2007

2007-11-24T15:30:00.000-08:00

I decided to visit the colonial town of San Miguel de Allende on Saturday. The town is about an hour away from Guanajuato by bus. Many people told me that the town is beautiful and that I really should go.

I got up way too early and was at the bus station about an hour early. When I got there, I ran into 3 of the young Asian girls going to school with me. They were headed to the town of Morelia, which is about 4 1/2 hours away. (I later found out that they got stuck overnight with no hotel and ended up buying toothbrushes and taking the morning bus back to Guanajuato.)

A little later, the two women from Oregon that were in my classes showed up at the bus station. They were headed to San Miguel on my bus as well. We were all chatting until our buses left. We were joined by a pair of Alaskan women who were taking Spanish classes at another school and were also on my bus to San Miguel.

On the bus, I sat next to a 24-year-old German woman named Sybilla. We chatted most of the way to San Miguel.

Once I got to San Miguel around 11:00am, I decided to go by foot from the bus station to the central plaza. It was an easy walk that took 15-20 minutes. The central plaza is quite nice but the church there is amazing. I only walked around for a few minutes before I realized that I was starving and getting weak.

Looking around for a restaurant, it was clear that the nicer establishments were geared toward the gringo population. San Miguel has been transformed by it´s large number of retired expats. The population of the town is clearly stratified into two groups--old gringos and Mexicans. The Mexicans in San Miguel seem more rustic than in Guanajuato or Guadalajara, making the contrast even sharper.

Even after eating, I never really regained my enthusiasm. San Miguel is nice, but not all that it was hyped to be. The redeaming thing about the town are the churches. There are several very nice churches. It also has a nice park by the river (or creek, or whatever it is.) There is supposedly a path from the park to a lookout point high on the nearby hill, but I couldn´t find it. I walked around town quite a bit, but after being there for about 2 or 3 hours, I was ready to go.

I think the reason many people like San Miguel is because it has lots of places to shop for artsy stuff and many nice restaurants. Shopping for precious little things is the last thing I want to do when I travel.

Eventually, I headed back to the bus station. I thought that I would not see any of my companions from the ride there and that I would have to explain to them on Monday why I didn´t stay in San Miguel longer than I did. Much to my surprise, they were all on the same bus back, except for the Oregonians who had reserved a hotel for the night before arriving. Sybilla and the Alaskans all had the same impression of the town that I did--nice, but after a couple of hours there, there was not much more to see.

I ended up seated next to one of the Alaskans and we chatted all the way back to Guanajuato. When I arrived at the bus station in Guanajuato and hopped on the local bus to get back downtown, Sybilla was on the same bus. We sat next to each other and talked on the way back to town and she invited me to hang out with her and her friends that night, which I accepted.

Guanajuato 10/31/07-11/13/07

2007-11-11T17:18:00.000-08:00

In my last posting, I completely failed to mention Halloween, All Souls Day, and Day of the Dead (Dia de Morte). In Guanajuato, I saw few kids in the streets on Holloween. The ones I did see were almost all witches and devils. The few adults in costume were almost all zombies, except for one Fred Flintstone.

On the night of All Saints Day (November first for all you
non-Catholics) I saw more kids in costume than on Holloween. A few of them came looking for candy at the restaurant where I had dinner.

The big holiday of the week was Day of the Dead (November 2). Traditionally, this is a day where graves of departed loved ones are decorated and places are adorned with skeletons and the like. For days leading up to Day of the Dead, there were scores of stalls in the street selling candy skulls, "dead bread", cemetery wreaths, flowers, and all manner of death-related trinkets.

On the night of Day of the Dead, the plazas and restaurants were packed. I don't know how much of this was due to the holiday and how much was due to the fact that it was simply a Friday night.

On weekend nights in Guanajuato, a group of professional musicians in costume called callejoneanadas (a callejon is an alley) wander through town with a following of people (mainly tourists). The play music, sing songs, and stop in various plazas to tell comedic stories. I caught a bit of them as they were in the plaza outside the internet cafe I was using. It was quite enjoyable, but I found when I got out of the cafe, I really had no desire to follow them around. I ran into them again in another plaza a few minutes later.

Guanajuato is big on street performers, and by that I do not mean the noisy beggars you find in most cities. There are the usual bands of singers with guitarists wandering through restaurants for tips (which I abhor). There are also actual bands that play in the bandstand in the Jardin de Union (I caught one doing Strauss pieces one night and another doing more traditional Mexican music on another.) People dance around the bandstand as the band plays.

There are other musicians that plant themselves in other plazas around town or in front of the Teatro Juarez. There are often clowns entertaining children and adults (not this one) in front of the theater.

There are, however, a few unfortunate instances of music. While I was in an internet cafe, there was someone strangling a bagpipe in the plaza outside. Bagpipes are never the most harmonious instraments, but this one was so bad that I had to put on my headphones and drown it out with some music. I would have preferred to listen to a leaf blower.

Speaking of noise, there are some interesting noises in town. The church bells seem to ring at random. Firecrackers go off a lot. At first, I thought this was leading up to the Day of the Dead. Then it continued for the next week. I found out that the churches light the firecrackers to call worshippers to mass for their particular saint.

All in all, however, Guanajuato is a pretty quiet town. Even though there is a lively nightlife with many bars, there is not a lot of noise pollution from them.

Speaking of which, I finally got to experience some of the Guanajuato night life. I had taken a one-day bus trip to San Miguel de Allende (see a forthcoming blog entry for details of that trip) and was seated next to a German girl on the bus ride there. The girl, Sybilla, and I talked quite a bit on the trip, ended up on the same bus back to Guanajuato later that day, and then ended up on local bus with me from the bus station to town. She invited me to go out with some of her friends that night.

I met Sybilla and her friends at a bar called Bora Bora behind the Theatro Juarez. This bar was filled pretty much with gringos. It was a nice enough place, kind of trendy. Sybilla's friends consisted of a friend of Sybilla's mother and this woman's daughter, Julia. The pair have lived in Guanajuato for the past 3 years and apparently go out to bars together regularly.

The next bar was Alkatraz, around the corner from the Jardin de Union, which I had walked past about a billion times. When we entered, it was playing very Mexican music, but by the time we left, it had morphed into more US-style bar music. Larlo, a member of the Mexican family in whose house Sybilla is staying, joined us there.

I commented to Julia that she looked awfully young, which led to everyone (except the mother) revealing their ages. Larlo and Sybilla are both 24, and Julia is 17. This did not prevent Julia from knowing the workers in the next two bars and getting us in without paying the cover.

After Alkatraz, we headed to the dance clubs. The first was Guanajuato Grill. It was a kitchen disco--no dance floor. This makes it rather hard to mingle with anyone other than the people you came with. We bought a bottle of vodka and a couple of containers of juice. This put us back about US$65.

After Guanajuato Grill, we went to Capitola, tucked away in the far corner of Plaza La Paz. This was another disco with a more open floor plan, but still not as open as I would have liked. All of the places we went were crowded, but this place probably more than the others. Like many dance clubs in San Francisco on a busy night, it was so crowded that it was less like dancing and more like frotage. I was up since 7am, so I was the first to leave, just before 2am.

The next day was spent sleeping.

I'm sure David C. is disappointed that I have not mentioned diarrhea yet on this trip. Aside from a minor bout lasting only a few hours in Puerto Vallarta, there hasn't been any. However, since I have been in Mexico, I have been releasing so much gas that I expect to be mentioned by name in the next Kyoto treaty.

Spanish school has been going well. I decided to take a second week of classes, both because I need the practice and because I like the city. People were surprised to hear that I had never taken a Spanish class before. I'm definitely holding my own. Although I can converse with other students and teachers in Spanish, I still can't understand what most of the people say to me on the street.

My first day in class, I met a septegenarian from Seattle name Marriete. We ended up taking the same route back to town (the school is a 25 minute walk from the town center) and she asked if I was in a hotel or staying with a family. When I told her I was in a hotel, she told me about her homestay and asked if I was interested. The next day, the family invited me for dinner and the following day I was living there. The room is nice, the food is great (if a bit overabundant), the location is right in the town center (near where my hotel was) and room and board is about US$22 a day. I get a private room with a bathroom. And, as importantly, I get lots of Spanish practice.

Well, this entry has turned into a book, so I will end here and post next time about my trip to San Miguel. This weekend, I intend to head to Mexico City.

Guanajuato 10/29/07 - 11/05/07

2007-11-06T07:15:00.001-08:00

My blogs have finally caught up to where I actually am.

I am now in Guanajuato, Mexico. I was not originally planning to go to Guanajuato, but every Mexican that I hung out with told me that it was great place and I really should go there before heading to Mexico City. Since it is halfway between Guadalajara and Mexico City, it seemed like a good choice.

The bus ride from Guadalajara to Guanajuato was pleasant. A few mesas, a few valleys and canyons. There was a little confusion in Leon because I did not realize that I needed to change buses there.

While waiting for the second bus to show up, I chatted with a couple on the same bus. They had stayed in a hotel two doors down from me in Guadalajara. Someone slashed their luggage in their room and stole some (but not all) of their money. That is why I carry a Pak-Safe. It is a strong wire mesh that I wrap around my bag and then lock. My bag cannot be opened or slashed, and I try to secure it to something in the room like a bed frame or metal table. Of course, someone could steal my bag out of the bus cargo hold.

When the bus arrived in Guanajuato, I took a look at the town and was really disappointed. It turns out that I wasn't really seeing the city proper. The city is in a valley. When I got around the hill into the city proper, I was no longer disappointed. I was amazed.

The bus station is a few kilometers outside of town. This is one annoying little oddity about the cities I have been to so far in Mexico--the bus stations are not in the center of town like they are in many other places. You either have to take a taxi or a local bus to get into town.

I had decided on a place to stay before arriving in Guanajuato, but I decided to let the guy outside the tourist information office at the bus station tell me about other options. I decided to check out one of the options he suggested. My experience in the past has been that hotel touts try to sell you overpriced dumps, but I have, on occassion, gotten decent deals by listening to them. The suggested room supposedly normally went for 350 pesos but I would get it for 180. Being the shoulder season, such a discount would not be unheard of, but I had my doubts as to whether the room ever went for 350 pesos.

The most interesting thing about my conversation with this guy was the realization I had a few minutes into it. I realized that I was having a conversation in Spanish and was actually following most of it. Unfortunately, I couldn't understand a word of what almost everyone else said that day.

While riding into town, I got a call from Anthony in San Jose on my cell phone. I had picked up a Mexican SIM card for my phone in Guadalajara--100 pesos (US$9) for the card plus 50 pesos worth of air time. It was my first phone call in Mexico. It was short-lived since I had to get out and go to my hotel. We picked up the conversation later as I was wandering around town.

As soon as I got out of my taxi, another tout championed my cause of finding a hotel. He ushered me to the hotel the first tout had suggested--the Hotel Juarez. I looked at the room. I cannot imagine that anyone would pay 350 pesos for that place. I let the tout show me a couple of other places. The only one I would have considered was full.

Finally, I decided to just go to the place I originally intended to go--Casa del Tio. This meant walking across town (which was not that far) with my luggage. I put my rolling backpack on my back and started walking. Why is it that the only times that I get lost while hauling my luggage is when I am in a city full of hills? It was Darjeeling all over again. Eventually, I got my bearings and found the hostel. I got the only single room with a bathroom.

I dumped my stuff and walked around town. Guanjuato is one of the most beautiful cities that I have ever seen. It is full of immaculate little plazas connected by small streets surfaced with paving stones. These streets are lined with well-preserved colonial buildings in a wide array of colors. The most recognized building in town is the old basilica on a manicured plaza along a pedestrian street. There are several other well-preserved old churches, an attractively fronted university, a statue-lined old theater, a more modern theater, and many sidewalk cafes. All of this is in an area of probably less than one square mile.

Take a lot of the nicest parts of Paris, shrink them, put them in a small area, and replace the sometimes difficult Parisians with friendly Mexicans and you have something like Guanjuato. (Oh, and reduce the costs by about a factor of 10.)

My favorite passtime is to just walk in the maze of paved alleyways. I have yet to find one in the town center that is not immaculate. Even walking around the perimeter of town and dipping down side street I have not seen anything like a "bad" part of town.

Overlooking the town from the top of the southern hill is a huge statue. One can get there via the funicular railway or just walk up an alley (quite a workout.) I have walked up there twice so far. From there, one can see over the city. Being in a valley, there are many points in the city with such birds-eye views.

On my third day in town, I walked to the Academia Falcon to sign up for Spanish classes. It is a very laid-back school on the southeast side of town. It is about a 25 minute walk from my hotel in the center. For US$110 I can take 4 classes a day for a week. I may stay for a second week of classes.

Guanajuato is a university town as well as a tourist town. The arts seem to be a primary focus of study. Many times I have seen students with sketch pads in front of some of the grander buildings.

Although Guanjuato is definitely a tourist town--I'm sure the economy would collapse if the stream of tourists dried up--it is not touristy in a bad way. At least in this season, it does not feel exteremely touristy. It feels more like a college town. I don't know how this would change in the high season.

The main plaza is the Jardin de Union. It is not a big plaza, but is very nice. It is in the shape of an isoceles triangle. The sort side of the triangle is demarcated by the street Calle Juarez. Across the street is the grand old Teatro Juarez. One of the other legs of the triangle is lined with restaurants and their outdoor seating. The third leg is a row of shops and indoor restaurants. Within this outermost border is a wide tiled walkway lined with benches. Within the walkway is and unbroken triangle of trees whose tops are cut square so it looks like a giant hedge lifted off the ground. Within this border of trees is the innermost landscaped triangle, which contains a small fountain and an octagonal bandstand. Many evenings there are musicians performing in the bandstand or across the street in front of the theater. It is a great place to just park it on a bench and bask in the ambiance.

I'll be in Guanjuato for at least another week taking classes, so I will end this entry here and save the rest for later.

Gudalajara, 10/24/07 - 10/29/07

2007-11-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

I am in Guanajuato, Mexico right now, typing this on my PDA at a coffee shop. My table is sitting atop a narrow archway over a pedestrian alley surfaced with paving stones. It is mid-afternoon, the temperature is perfect, and it is a holiday--Novermber 2, the Day of the Dead.

I'm a student again. Ok, not officially until Monday. While in Guanajuato, I decided to take some Spanish classes. But enough about Guanjuato, this blog entry is is about Guadalajara.

As I mentioned in my previous posting, Guadalajara seemed more appealing to me than Puerto Vallarta even before I got off the bus. This feeling only increased as the day went on.

I took a taxi from the bus station to my hotel in the town center. I think they specifically assigned a driver that could speak English--I fuddled through the whole "getting a cab" process. Not my finest moment of speaking Spanish. On the ride to the hotel, I struck up a conversation with the driver. It started with things along the lines of "How well do you speak English?" and went on to stuff about family and the like. I found out that he is 23, got married when he was 18 (which he chalks up to the stupidity of youth), is divorced, and has a 4 year old son. He lived in Atlanta briefly. He offered to help me with my Spanish on the ride to the hotel. I asked a few questions, more to make conversation than to get an education.

When we got to my hotel and I went to pay him, he reminded me that I already gave him 5 pesos at the bus station toll booth. Yes, Virginia, honest taxi drivers do exist.

My check-in at the hotel was made easier by the fact that the lady at the desk spoke English. I opted to get a room with a shared bathroom (190 pesos vs. 290 with a bathroom.) The hotel was situated right in the historic town center.

After checking in, I dumped my stuff, chatted with a Japanese girl who had also just checked in, and then walked around town. It was early evening. The weather was a little too chilly for a short sleeve shirt and I would later put on my jacket. I was told that the colder weather just started a couple of days before I arrived.

I felt so much more comfortable in Guadalajara. It is a real city with 4 million people. When I walked down the street, I felt invisible. I like that. The streets and plazas were full of people. It is a very lively town.

The biggest landmarks in central Guadalajara are the twin-towered cathedral (which seems to be the symbol of the city) and the theater (Teatro Degollado). Both are beautiful old buildings.

The historic district contains a collection of plazas connected with pedestrian walkways, all quite nice, surrounded by historic building and containing several statues of historic figures. Almost all of my time in Guadalajara was spent in this part of town.

I did not eat out at many restaurants, opting instead for pizza-by-the-slice, or stuff from the grocery store.

After being in Guadalajara a couple of days, I started meeting people. Mauricio is a 25-year-old whose family owns a construction company in Colorado. He just moved back here from Colorado last month and works at the Guadalajara office of the family business. We chatted over coffee in one of the outdoor cafes in the plaza in front of the Cathedral and then walked around a bit. When we parted, he asked if I wanted to go to a popular Mariachi place the next night (Friday.) I said "Sure" and we agreed to finalize plans online the next day. When chatting online with him the next day, I asked if he still wanted to go to the Mariachi place, and if so when and where we should meet. No response. Ever. That was the last I heard from him. I guess he picked up a few behaviors from his time in the US. Too bad it had to be one of the ones that never fails to piss me off.

The next day I met Alfonso. This was a bit more interesting because Alfonso spoke very little English and I spoke very little Spanish. I got a lot of use out of my Spanish-English dictionary during our conversations. Alfonso is a 37-year-old psychiatrist specializing in child psychiatry. He occasionally teaches classes to teachers from a classroom attached to his house.

Alfonso and I ended up having dinner in Zona Rosa--a rather posh neighborhood that is a 20 minute walk from my hotel. For dinner, he suggested that I try a somewhat-spicy chicken stew, whose name I cannot remember, which was quite good.

After dinner, we watched the parade that happened to be passing by the restaurant. October is a month of festivals in Guadalajara.

It was Saturday, so we decided to go have a drink. We walked a couple of blocks to his house to get his car. His house is huge, but practically empty. He has 5 bedrooms upstairs, only one of which is fully furnished, most of the others are completely empty. His kitchen is big, but 3/4 of it is completely empty. His office is on the ground floor, along with his kitchen, an empty dining room, and a small living room.

His yard is giant by city standards. In it is the classroom where he teaches classes.

After getting the house tour, we headed to California's--a bar near my hotel. I was shocked to discover that one could actually park a car without having to search forever for a spot AND could park near one's destination.

California's was much more Mexican in flavor than the bar I went to in Puerto Vallarta. I may well have been the only white guy there. It was packed, and it was not a small bar. It was a pretty basic, homey kind of place--not at all trendy. It definitely seemed like the kind of place that people went to meet their friends for a beer. Several TVs were showing Mexican music videos. Alfonso ran into several of his friends there. I chatted briefly with one of them who spoke reasonable English. I left after about an hour and a couple of beers. (Yes, beer. When in Rome...)

The next day, I felt totally lazy and lounged around in bed until late afternoon. I had planned to go to the festival, but just felt too lazy. Instead, I studied Spanish and listened to NPR podcasts. This was surprisingly satisfying.

I went to use the net and post my first blog entry. Alfonso was online and we chatted and decided to hang out later, even though I was pretty tired.

The next day I woke up and decided to leave town. Originally, I was going to go straight to Mexico City from Guadalajara, but people kept suggesting that I go to Guanjuato first. I grabbed a taxi to the bus station (the driver actually used the meter, much to my surprise), bought a bus ticket to Guanajuato, and 15 minutes later I was on the road to Guanajuato.

Details for travelers to Guadalajara

The hotel in which I stayed was the Posada San Pedro on Calle Madero. It was within easy walking distance of the Cathedral (maybe 5-10 minutes), around the corner from several bars of a certain flavor, and about 3 blocks from a supermarket.
I asked for a quiet room and ended up with a second-floor room overlooking the busy street. Noise-wise, this was actually better than the ground floor rooms around the lobby. That is because every time someone goes in or out of the building they have to get buzzed through the security door. Usually, there is no one at the desk, so the person entering or leaving has to ring a bell, which you can clearly hear in the rooms around the lobby.

I actually did not mind the traffic noise in my room. At night, it was pretty minimal, and the room had a fan that provided a great source of white noise. I liked the place, although the getting buzzed in and out was kind of tedious.

For 190 pesos (about US$17.50), I got a fairly large room with a shared bath, a small balcony overlooking the street, and tons of furniture. The doors to the room and the bathroom are the kind that split down the middle. Unless you open both sides, you have to step through sideways. Another 100 pesos would have gotten me a private bathroom.

The hotel has a rooftop terrace that does not seem to be used much. It is surrounded by rooms. (These are probably the most quiet rooms.) My room had a cozy sitting area right outside.

All-in-all, I would recomment the place for someone looking for budget digs in the historic district.

As far as eating, I cannot recommend much because I ate in very few restaurants. There is a chain called Sanborns which is either inside or near a Sanborns department store. I only ate inside two restaurants in Guadalajara. By coincidence, both were Sanborns and both on the same day. (The second one was chosen because of its location as a place to meet--not by me.) The food is fine. The one near the cathedral looks like a Denny's. The one inside the Zona Rosa Sanborns department store is nicer, but the same food.

There are plenty of quick food options along the plazas--pizza, tacos, ice cream, etc.

There Will Be No Waiting for a Taxi in Hell

2007-11-02T19:47:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Puerto Vallarta around 5:30pm. As soon as I left the terminal, the taxi kiosks were shouting for my attention. When I asked how much to go to my intended destination, I was told $22USD. That seemed absurd. (Lonely Planet suggested that $8USD was the norm and $13 was the high side.) I decided to take my chances dealing directly with the taxis. This was not as I would have hoped, since all of the taxis seem to go through one or two dispatchers who set the prices. I haggled with one of the dispatchers and got it down to $15USD.

After pulling away from the terminal but before leaving the airport, the driver pulled up to a roadside kiosk. There was a discussion with the woman there, the slip with my fare quote was handed back and forth, and I was told that the fare would be $22.

"Do you want to pay the extra $7?" I was asked.

"No, I would not!" I said. "We already agreed on the fare. I'm not paying more than the $15 that was agreed on."

At this, the driver took me back to the terminal. I had no beef with him or he with me--the setting of the price did not involve him. On the way there, I asked him where the bus stop was, since I knew that there was one next to the airport. He pointed me to it, and I took my bags and headed over there, pissed.

When I saw the buses, my heart sank. Because of the time of day, they were packed. I was not going to drag my bags onto one. But I also saw something else--by taking the footbridge to the other side of the street, I could grab one of the taxis waiting there. These taxis were not part of the airport taxi machine. I crossed over, told the driver where I wanted to go, and was immediately quoted a price of 150 pesos (about $13.50). Without thinking, I accepted right away. I immediately thought, "Doh! You were supposed to haggle you idiot!" I didn't care, Even if it was overpriced, it was still better than caving to the airport taxi people.

So, you are probably asking yourself, "Why the hell did he go through all this trouble over eight measly dollars?" Simple. I hate taxi drivers. Well, that's not true--many of them are great, honest, and very helpful. But all too many are total scheisters who make travel a pain in the ass. The ones at airports and train stations are the worst. Like so many people in the travel industry, these unscrupulous taxi drivers know that you are in a vulnerable position as a stranger to wherever you are. They can gouge you (which they have tried to do to me in many places and have probably succeeded more times than I would care to admit.) They can take you on circuitous routes to run up the meter (which one tried to do in Hanoi--fortunatel, Thien was with me and caught him). They will tell you that your chosen hotel is crappy or no longer exists so that they can take you to a hotel that will give them a commission (which one tried to do in Bangalore). And, of course, there are horror stories about the really evil ones--the ones that take you to get robbed or worse. I'm sure there is a special circle of hell reserved for taxi drivers.

Because of problems with taxis screwing over unsuspecting people just arriving in a city, some airports regulate the taxis. You pay your fare (based on where you are going) at a taxi stand and don't have to negotiate with the driver. Bangkok airport has this sytem and it works great. Puerto Vallarta has this system and it is not great. The difference: the regulated airport taxis in Bangkok are fairly priced to make sure you don't get screwed, while the regulated airport taxis in Puerto Vallarta are priced (apparently) to make sure you do get screwed.

The trick of going across the street from the airport to get a taxi is a common one which I have used before. They are invariably cheaper (if you don't let them overcharge you) because they do not have to pay any of the fees that the airport charges taxis. Thus, even if taxis are metered, you save money. For non-metered areas, these taxis are a free market since there is no price fixing as was the case in the Puerto Vallarta airport.

Sometimes it is useful to use the taxis outside the airport simply because there is a long wait for the taxis inside the airport. For example, I normally used the taxi kiosks at the Bangkok airport, but once when I saw that there was a 20 minute wait for a taxi, I crossed the street and hopped right in a cab. (The new airport is connected to Bangkok via subway, so I don't usually bother with taxis there anymore.)

Puerto Vallarta was the first time I left the airport to get a taxi because I felt I was being gouged. Note that it wasn't so much that the ride was overpriced, but that a deal had been negotiated and was then broken. Being gouged or deceived does not shock me, but just outright going back on a deal--I was shocked.

Anyway, the driver taking me to central Puerto Vallarta was just fine. We had a very brief conversation in Spanish which consisted mainly of him asking me if I spoke Spanish, me saying that I spoke very little, and him saying that he also spoke very little English.

Traveler's Details About My Stay in Puerto Vallarta

2007-11-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

If you are not a budget traveller planning on going to Puerto Vallarta, you can probably skip this entry.

Getting From the Airport

If you want to save yourself about US$10 on your taxi ride from the airport into town, don't use the fixed-rate taxis at the airport. Take the pedestrian overpass to cross the street and catch a taxi there. You may have to bargain a bit. The hassle may not be worth the savings unless you are on a tight budget.

If you are on a really tight budget, catch a bus near the overpass on the same side of the street as the airport. Get on one that says "Centro" or "Olas Atlas". Hand the driver 5 pesos when you get on. They can make change if you don't have exact change. I don't
imagine that they take US dollars. Be forwarned that these buses can get very packed--not fun with a bunch of luggage. When I arrived, the buses were packed, so I opted for a taxi across from the airport.

Lodging:

My first night in Puerto Vallarta was spent in Hotel Posada Lily on the corner of Calle Badillo and Calle Olas Atlas. This is in Zona Romantica south of the river. The hotel does not face the beach (Playa los Muertos) but is is on the same block. There are many nice restaurants down Calle Olas Atlas.

I looked at two rooms at this hotel before selecting one. The first was an interior room for 300 pesos. It was small, very dark (pretty much no sunlight) and had only a small window for ventilation.

The second room was an exterior room with a small balcony looking out onto the streets. This room cost 350 pesos (about USD$32). It had two double beds that pretty much filled the room, a private bath, a ceiling fan, plenty of light, but no A/C. I opted for this room.

There was a lot of noise during the night, but I was exhausted and slept like a brick for 11 hours anyway. I woke up around 8:30.

I discovered upon waking that there was a school next door. There was also a building under construction a block away. I decided that this place was too noisy. The only attraction is the beach, and I am not crazy about beaches.

The rest of my stay in Puerto Vallarta was in the Hotel Azteca on Calle Madero near Calle Jacarandas. It is about 6 blocks from the beaches and a block south of the river in Zona Romantica. It is convenient to a supermarket, bus stops, street food, and Zona Centro.

All of the rooms in this 3-story hotel surround a small but very pretty
courtyard containing trees and other plants. There is a rooftop patio from which to view the city, as well as a sitting area overlooking the street on each floor. Drinking water is provided. Rooms are simple and include a private bath, a few pieces of furniture including a writing desk, and a ceiling fan (no A/C).

I asked for a quiet room and was given a room on the top floor all the way in the back. My only complaint is that although it is a quiet hotel, sound really carries. On most nights, I would be awakened by some old guy who insisted on using the sink outside my room (intended for use by the cleaning crew) as his own private washbasin. Apparently, this guy never slept--he would be there several times a night at all hours of the night every night.

All-in-all, I liked this place and would recommend it. The staff seemed quite friendly. However, if I had had a room in the middle of the hotel, I might have been disturbed by the occassional sound of doors and the like--I am very sensitive to noise while I sleep.

Eating

I didn't eat at tons of restaurants in Puerto Vallarta. Restaurant prices there are pretty much the same as in US cities.

My favorite place was The Pancake House on Calle Badillo. They only serve breakfast, but they serve it until 2pm. I often had breakfast for lunch there. I had the chocolate and kalhua pancakes (quite good), the waffles (decent), fritata (good), and the French toast (possibly the best I've ever had.) Eggs and sides were always good.

The Chinese restaurant Red Dragon was ok enough, although it was more expensive than most US Chinese restaurants (around US$9 an entre.)

For street stalls, Calle Madero has several taco stands that are decent. Around town there are several Papa Don's Pizza walk-ups. I thought the pizza was quite good, provided you like pan-style pizza. Unless you feel like waiting, you pretty much have to take whatever they have on hand. Don't expect much English at the street stalls.

Format and Content of This Blog

2007-11-02T19:39:00.000-07:00

The format and content of this blog is going to evolve over time. The main purpose of this blog is to let friends and family know where I am and what I am doing. I also have other goals for this blog. One is to give general insights on travel--for example, what to pack, my thoughts on how to deal with beggars, my views on taxi drivers, etc.

Another goal of this blog is to provide detailed information about the hotels, restaurants, etc. that I encounter. Whenever I go to a new place, I search the web to find out what other people have had to say about particular hotels. I find this information immensely useful, so I want to provide this information for other travellers. This information may be of no interest to friends and family reading this blog, so feel free to skip these details.

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico 10/15/2007-10/24/07

2007-10-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

On Monday, Oct. 15, 2007, I arrived in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. This is the first stop in what is planned to be a months-long tour of Latin America.

When I told people that I was starting in PuertoVallarta, several people were surprised that I was starting in a resort town. My reasons for starting in Puerto Vallarta are purely logistical--I won´t go into the details.

Before reading my description of Puerto Vallarta, let me just say that I am not a fan of beach resort towns. Convergent evolution tends to make them pretty much all the same. To bring in the most money, they tend to appeal to the lowest common denominator. The general theme is drink, drink, and go to the beach and have a drink. (Drinking is fine, I do my share, but I don't think of it as a lifestyle.) So, most of these towns have beautiful beaches--lined with beachbars blasting music. And the town center usually has an ocean-front promenade--with open air bars blasting music. I'm not a big fan of blasting music unless I am in a dance bar.

I know, I sound like some granola-eating independent travel snob, but that isn't true--I don't eat granola.

When I landed in Puerto Vallarta, I had some taxi difficulties. I will save that for another blog. I arrived in the evening, so that first day I just checked in to my hotel (Hotel Posada Lily) and got a bite to eat. The first thing I did the next day in Puerto Vallarta was walk around the Zona Romantica--the old part of town. It wasn't what I expected from PV--not a lot of cheesy shops and bars. There were some tourist oriented things by the beach, but these did not seem too cheesy.

While walking around, I found a hotel more to my liking (the Hotel Azteca), which was a few blocks further from the beach.

I walked along the beach because, well, I was in a beach resort town--I kinda had to. Playa Olas Atlas andPlaya Muerte are nice enough beaches, and they were not overlycrowded. (It seemed odd that the beach dropped right at the water's edge so that the waves slapped into the shore at times. One got me. Just a little splashed, not drenched.) Lots of beachfront bars with their lounge chairs. Since it was morning, it was pretty dead.

Once I left the beach, I didn't feel like I would have the inclination to go back again--not that it was bad or anything. It is said that there are two kinds of people--beach people and mountain people. I've concluded that I'm definitely not a beach person. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy going to the beach now and again, but I am realizing more and more that usually I don't find it to be worth the bother--sand everywhere for days, having to keep an eye on your stuff if you go in the water, slathering on sunscreen, etc. Plus, in the mountains, you never run into swarms of people and bars blasting music so loud that Pete Townsend would ask them to turn it down. You run into very few drunken frat boys on mountain paths. Note that I did not run into any of these things on my morning walk on Olas Atlas beach.

My second day in Puerta Vallarta, I ventured north across the pleasant little river that separates Zona Romantica from Zona Centra. Now THAT was what I was expecting Puerto Vallarta to be like--a clone of every package tour paradise in the world. It came complete with Hard Rock Cafe, Hooters, and, on every other block, a Senor Frog's (Mexico's equivalent of Hard Rock Cafe). I didn't see a Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum.

Along the ocean in Zona Centra is a very nice paved promenade dotted with sculptures and coconut palms. That promenade is probably my favorite thing about Puerto Vallarta. Just don't look across the street to the places that practically cry out "Hey, hey! Plastic fun for everyone!" But I have to say, on the several occasions that I walked down the promenade, only once do I recall hearing the bars blasting from across the street.

I spent just over a week in Puerta Vallarta and really did not do very much. During the day, I would go out, get somethingto eat, (sometimes a street stall, sometimes a restaurant) walk around a little, use the internet. What remainedof my time was spent in my hotel room studying Spanish, exercising, or napping. I had had the flu shortly before flying to Mexico, so the rest did me some good after all the hectic travel prep work.

I walked quite a bit through Puerto Vallarta. I wandered way north to where the high-rise mega resorts have sprouted. I wandered through the residencial neighborhoods far from the tourist crowds. I even managed to get lost--which is hard to do when you aren't actually going anywhere. I was lost in the sense that I realized that if I kept going I would end up with a mountain between me and my hotel. I headed back in what I knew to be the right general direction and was guided to the ocean-front by a parasailer rising in the sky above the city like a beacon.

On another day, I took a local bus to find the long distance bus terminal. The long distance buses in Mexico are very nice. The local buses are another story, but they do the job. It was a good way to see the town.

I did hang out with a couple of locals in Puerto Vallarta. That was the highlight of the visit. The first was Aender. I met at a coffee shop on Friday night. At his suggestion, we got a couple of cheap local beers at a convenience store and drank them while walking down the promenade, talking. He just moved to PV a month ago. He had been living in Phoenix working in the mortgage industry. (Insert the sound of a bubble popping.) He is originally from near Chihuahua. After the first beer ran out, we got another and continued talking. Eventually, I convinced him to go to a bar--I don't like going to bars by myself, but I wanted to go to at least one while I was there. Both he and someone else that I had asked said that Manana was the best, so we went there.

Manana was a very nice bar. Most of the bar is a big courtyard with a fountain, a stage, and a dance floor. There is also an indoor part. The indoor part is air conditioned, but after a while was hotter than the outside part. It was between 2 and 3am when I got home. I didn't realize that the place stayed open until 8am.

On Sunday night I hung out with Mateo. Over coffee, he told me how he used to be a professional dancer. For 12 years (he is only 30) he danced professionally with a Mexican dance troupe. He did alot of folk dance and flamenco. (Or was it fandango--I always confuse those two.) His troupe went all over, including much of Europe and Canada. Apparently, Mateo got burned out on dancing and decided to take abreak. He is now a massage therapist. He hopes to get back into dance as a choreographer or teacher.

I left Puerto Vallarta on Wednesday. I packed my stuff and hopped on a local bus to the long distance bus station. The local bus was basically an old school bus. I could not put my legs straight in front of me because there was not enough room. I got off the bus a little too early and ended up walking for 10 minutes in the hot sun with my large backpack and my day pack. No big deal. I bought my ticket to Guadalajara and inhaled a hamburger before rushing to the bus. I needn't have bothered scarfing down the burger--I was handed a sandwich as I got on the bus.

The ride from Puerto Vallarta to Guadalahara was very scenic. We went up through the mountains--not the grandest mountains but very pleasant and green. I saw many mountains of the kind that just stick straight up out of flat ground.

When the bus got to Guadalajara I felt a sense of relief. Even from the bus I knew I would feel more comfortable here in a real city. I should have left Puerto Vallarta sooner.

How to receive this blog via e-mail

2007-07-27T23:50:00.003-07:00

I find it to be a pain to have to check people's blogs to see if there have been new posts. I would much rather just have their posts e-mailed to me as they are created. As such, I have set things up so that anyone can get this blog via e-mail. If you would like to receive e-mails containing each new post as it is published, you can subscribe by simply sending an e-mail to the following address:

outboundflight-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

The subject and contents of the message sent to this address can be empty--they are ignored. You will receive an e-mail that will ask you to confirm your subscription by clicking on a link.

If you later decide that you don't want to get these e-mails, you can unsubscribe by sending an e-mail (from the same e-mail address used to subscribe) to the following address:

outboundflight-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com

For those worried about spam, your e-mail address will be added to a list that is only visible to me. Likewise, only I can send to the list.

Sidney

Around the World #25 (10/08/03-10/10/03, The voyage home)

2007-07-05T18:26:00.000-07:00

As you know, my 'round the world trip is over, and I am back in California. The portion of the trip since my last travelogue was pretty negligible--just the trip from Slovakia to home, essentially. But, here is the writeup for completeness. :)

Wednesday, 10/08/03

I took the electric train from Stary Smokovec to Poprad, and then took a train from Poprad out of Slovakia back to Prague. I went back to the same hotel as before, but had to deal with the night guy, who I remember from before as being a bit of a jerk. He certainly was this time.

After dinner and using the net downtown, I came back and went to sleep. At 1 AM, the jerks in the room next to mine came back shouting, laughing, and singing for the next hour. Jeez, I don't know how many people they stuffed in there. Not being able to sleep as a result, I had some time to think. It occurred to me that if I caught the bus to Paris the next day and changed my flight date, I could just make my plane to San Francisco and be home that evening. This would get me home on a Friday night and give me all weekend to take care of stuff that required interacting with my friends--like getting my car and laptop, etc. I was getting a bit tired of running around Europe, so I decided to try it. It would mean over 30 hours of traveling in one shot.

Thursday, 10/09/03

I got on the overnight bus to Paris at about 6pm. At the Czech/German border, we were held for an hour and a quarter. Every non-white person on the bus was called in for face-to-face identification.

This delay had me worried. I needed to arrive in Paris on time if I was to catch my flight.

I slept a few hours.

Friday, 10/10/03

We arrived in Paris right on time. I immediately hopped on the metro train to the airport and arrived almost precisely two hours before departure. My transit from bus to airport could not have worked out better.

When I got to the airport, things were not so perfect. The line for American was long, and I waited 15-20 minutes before getting to a counter. Then the guy gave me the 3rd degree about where I had been. He actually demanded proof of all of the flights I had taken since I left the US! Fortunately, I had the boarding passes, but I had to dig them out of my rucksack. I dumped about 20 boarding passes on him. Then he started asking for hotel receipts. I did not have all of those, but after I produced a few, he gave in and let me through.

The flight to New York was quite tolerable. Even after the all-night bus ride, I did not get fatigued or bored. On the San Francisco flight, I chatted with the guy next to me.

And then I was home. Except I didn't have a home. I made arrangements to stay with my friend Kent, but when David picked me up from the airport (after a few unsuccessful phone calls and a mixup as to which terminal I was at) and took me to his house to get my car, we discovered that the battery was dead. Not wanting to drive far late at night with a car in that state, I ended up making hasty arrangements to stay elsewhere.

The next couple of days were spent getting my car in shape, finding a rental car (which is really not easy on a Saturday afternoon), getting a new cell phone provider (Sprint screwed me over), collecting a garbage bag full of mail that arrived for me while I was gone, reinstating my car insurance, finding a temporary place to live, reconnecting with friends, etc.

And so ends my trip around the world.

Around the World #24 (09/27/03-10/07/03, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Bratislava, the High Tatras of eastern Slovakia)

2007-07-05T18:25:00.002-07:00

When I last wrote, I was in Prague. After that I moved on to Vienna, Budapest, Bratislava, and the mountains of Slovakia.

I had originally planned on going to Venice and Geneva after Budapest, but I'm getting tired of struggling with the tourist hords. Slovakia seemed like it would be the road less travelled, and to my delight, it has been. Plus, I figure I will be back in Europe, and I'll probably be with people. The odds of them saying "Hey, let's go to Venice" are much greater than "Hey, let's go to the Carpathian mountains in eastern Slovakia."

As in Asia, I am trying to sample the local cuisine. Grease is the word. These people love fat. But all in all, the food hasn't been bad--from goulash to smoked pork to Wienerschnitzel. And I've been having the local beers with dinner. Yes, that's right--me voluntarily drinking beer. I figured if I can drink wine with meals in France, I can choke down a few beers in eastern Europe.

Saturday, 09/27/03

I went to the Prague train station and bought my ticket to Vienna. On my way to the town center, the metro ticket checker asked me for my ticket. I handed her my pass. She pointed out the time stamp. It had expired half an hour earlier--after I had started my trip. I paid the 400czk fine (about $15). I had to dig out my money belt to do it. How embarrassing. Busted, right in front of everyone. I was pissed at myself for not realizing that the pass was expiring. I stopped by the American Airlines office to change my flight home and they were closed. This was not turning out to be a good day.

The day improved when I started walking. There is a big hill with an abbey on it which gives great views. I hiked up, then walked around the little streets near the castle, and through a park in an area of town I hadn't seen.

While having dinner, I heard this girl who sounded exactly like my neice Julie. The voice, the inflections, the fact that every third word was "like". It was uncanny.

Sunday, 9/28/03

I took the train to Vienna. When I arrived in Vienna, I had difficulty finding the metro station. In the metro station, I tried to buy a snickers bar from a vending machine. It got stuck. I figured I would buy another and they would both fall. The first one fell, the second stuck. I was pissed. 1.80 euro for a damned snickers bar.

I took the train to near the pension where I was staying. I got turned around several times before finding the street. Not a good thing carrying my backpack. When I found the address, there was no pension there. I was frustrated. I found a payphone nearby that actually took coins and called the pension. The address was Brauergasse and I was looking a block away on Otto Bauergasse. He gave me directions and I hung up. The phone did not give change. I spent 2 euro on a 30 second call. I was pissed. My first day in Vienna was going really badly. To top it off, I went the wrong direction and spent another 15 minutes wandering around trying to find the pension.

When I go to the pension, the owner was very nice. I got an upgrade because a single was not available. Finally, something good. I liked the room. It is a very nice place with a pretty good location.

I took the subway into the town center and walked around. I took a few sunset shots. At first I was not impressed--and given how my day had been going, I was probably not in the best mood to be experiencing a new city. After a while, after seeing many beautiful buildings, I started being more impressed, but I knew that I probably shouldn't spoil the city by seeing it in my still somewhat foul mood.

Monday, 9/29/03

It was cold and drizzly all day. I tried to change my flight back home, but both American Airlines and Cathay Pacific said they couldn't change it. (It was an American Airlines flight booked on a Cathay Pacific ticket.) After mildly arguing with the American guy and sitting on hold for several minutes (not cheap on a payphone) I finally got it changed.

In the process of running errands and finding places to eat, I saw a pretty good chunk of Vienna.

Tuesday, 9/30/03

It was sunny and a little cool today. I decided to see the Danube. I wandered around, saw the big ferris wheel from "The Third Man" and then the green Danube. I don't know what river Strauss was talking about because the Danube is certainly not blue.

Since I was in Vienna, I figured I had to try the signature dish. So, for dinner I had Wienerschnitzel mit sauerkraut. Not bad, but schnitzel with noodles will never make my list of favorite things.

Wednesday, 10/01/03

I took a train from Vienna to Budapest. On the train, I decided that I did not want to deal with the inevitable headaches (primarily lodging) in Venice, and decided to go to Slovakia instead. I would spend a couuple of days in Bratislava and then head to the mountains.

When I got to Budapest, I immediately felt disappointed--even before I got out of the train/subway station. It just didn't feel right. No sense of charm like Prague or Vienna.

Getting out of the subway and taking the bus to the hotel, I felt no better. Graffiti everywhere. The neighborhood of the hotel did not seem that good. Not that convenient to public transit either--not near a subway station. I did not like the guy at the front desk, although he didn't actually do anything wrong. My room was below ground level. The window was eye-level with the street. People could look down from the sidewalk, and I could see wheels of cars and the tram go by. For the most expensive hotel I've had on this trip (42 euro a night) it sucked. Ok, the room was very tidy, and everything was quite crisp, and I probably would have loved it for half the price.

I was in kind of a foul mood. I walked across the bridge (the hotel was a block from the Danube) and through town. There was some beautiful architecture, but the place just seemed tatty. Vienna plus entropy and despair. I walked down one of the main thoroughfares to the city park. This cheered me up immensely. The musems there are beautiful buildings.

Walking back to my hotel over the bridge at night, the Danube with the castle and palace on the hills on one side and the parliament and basilica on the other, all lit up, was very beautiful. Walking on the street with the hotel, wondering about its safety, the thought went through my head: "What the hell am I doing wandering around Budapest in the middle of the night?" Just one of those weird jolts of perspective, like waking up in India and realizing that everyone you know is on the other side of the planet.

Budapest just rubbed me the wrong way. I don't see any real reason for disliking the city, but I already wanted to leave.

Thursday, 10/2/03

I walked up to the castle. Beautiful views of the city. I walked from the castle to the palace, which had even better views. I wanted to take a picture of myself with Budapest in the background, but the batteries chose that moment to go dead.

I had lunch at a pizza place called Fantasy. After sitting there, I began to wonder if it was trying to be Hooters. The pizza was fine, but the waitress ripped me off. And she short-changed me good. When I got the change, something seemed wrong, so I counted it hurriedly. It added up, but still seemed wrong. It wasn't until several hours later at home when I realized that I was almost out of money that I figured out that she had slipped a decimal place on me--either on the whole amount of change or just giving me a 500 instead of a 5000. I got ripped off over $20. I was so pissed and I was mad at myself for letting it happen. In India, everyone tried to short-change me, but I always caught it. I got very good at scrutinizing change. Since I tally up my expenses each day, I can tell if if something doesn't add up, and this bitch was the first to get away with it.

Before I left the restaurant, I decided to use the cheap internet upstairs. The computers had naked women as backgrounds. This place was so sleazy. But the net connection was good and about 1/3 the price of everywhere else.

Friday, 10/3/03

I wanted to go bathe at the Gellert Baths. Budpest has several thermal spas, and this one is supposed to be like bathing in a cathedral. But after errands, the day was wearing on, and I didn't want to bother.

The other thing I wanted to do was go up to the citadel, which I did. The weather was dreary by then--a contrast to the great weather earlier in the day and on the previous days.

I had bought new batteries that morning, but after the first picture, the low battery indicator was flashing. After about 5 pictures, the camera stopped working. I guess I won't have any pictures of me in Budapest.

Saturday, 10/4/03

I took the train from Budapest to Bratislava. The gloomy weather from last night carried over and it started to drizzle just before boarding the train. It was drizzly and overcast until we got near Bratislava, and then it cleared up.

We arrived at 12:30. The weather was quite nice, if slightly chilly. It was clear that it had been raining. I went to Hotel Spirit because it was right by the train station. They had one single left, but with no bath. I took it. This place is just weird. The outside looks like it was architected by Picasso and painted by Mondrian. It is wildly colorful and bizarrely shaped. My room is in the shape of a pyramid. The apex of the pyramid is made of glass and functions as a skylight. Through the center of this is a PVC pipe containing a light bulb which is the main lighting for the room. Set into the walls at floor level are several holes of different shapes with backings of different colored glass. Lights mounted behind the glass makes it glow when the switch is turned on. In the center of the room is an inverted pyramid whose top is a platform that can be reached by a small ladder mounted to one side. The platform is about 6' by 6'. Against 3 of the walls are 12 chairs of 2 differnt styles (6 of each) and several colors. The door of the room has an angle 2/3 of the way down because the pyramid shape of the room starts a couple of feet off the floor. It does not so much swing shut as slide into place. It, of course, is many different bright colors. The bed--stuck in a corner as an afterthought--is a fold-out sofa bed. I don't know what this room was designed for, but it doesn't look like it was meant to be a bedroom. Maybe moonlight human sacrifices.

Obviously, the focus of all the pyramid power in the room was at the platform in the center. It would have been a shame to waste all of that mystical energy (yeah, right), so I put the mattress on it and slept there.

And the books in the room: aside from a couple of children's books, there was "The Politics of Pregnancy", "Man Enough--Fathers, Sons, and the Search for Masculinity", "Mink", and "Models for European and World Integration'

To show you just how weird this hotel is, the computers used for (free) net access are running linux instead of windows! (The non-technogeeks on this mailing list can ignore this remark.)

I walked around Bratislava. Every place that did not sell food or drink was closed--on a Saturday! There were people in old town, but not what you would call a crowd. I walked up to the castle (a short walk) with a pleasant view. I walked down and had lunch . I had the Hungarian goulash that I didn't get in Hungary.

I like Bratislava. It is kind of dead, but very pleasant. It has a few interesting buildings, but nothing like Prague, Vienna, or Budapest. But Bratislava made me happy in exactly the same way that Budapest didn't.

Sunday, 10/05/03

I took the train from Bratislava to Poprad. The scenery was OK, but nothing to write home about. At Poprad, I had to catch the electric train to Stary Smokovec. If the train had arrived on time, I would have had 20 minutes to get to the electric train. The train was 15 minutes late. I ran to find and get to the train. I got there just as it was about time to leave. The conductor did not sell tickets and told me I had to go back downstairs and buy a ticket. In the two minutes it took to run down, get a ticket, and run back, the train was gone. I had to wait an hour for the next one. I was so pissed.

I checked into a hotel and walked around town a little. (Given the size of the town, a little walking is all you can do.) It is a tourist town--gift shops, cafes, restaurants, etc. In the winter, this is ski country. In the summer, hiking is the thing. It is the off season now, so very few people are around. Just what I was looking for.

I decided that when I leave here, I just want to head back to Paris and catch my flight home. If I hit some new places in between, fine. If not, fine. Europe is a lot more tiring than Asia was. Presumably, this is due to tighter time limits and tighter budgets.

Monday, 10/06/03

The plan for the day was to take the train to Tatranska Lomnica, catch the gondola to Skalnate Pleso, catch the cable car from there to the peak of Lomniky Stit and back, then hike from Skalnate Pleso to Hrebienok for a couple of hours where I would catch the funicular railway back down to Stary Smokovec. This plan failed miserably. After spending about an hour and a half getting to the gondola station (waiting for the train, taking the train, walking to the gondola station) I discovered that it was closed due to wind.

As an alternate plan, I hiked to Hrebienok. It was a pleasant hike, but nothing fantastic. All I could see was trees for the most part. It got better when I hit the stream with the waterfalls, which again, were not fantastic, but pleasant enough. At that point is was snowing lightly. All I had was my fleece jacket, which did surprisingly well. When I got to Hrebienok, there was a very nice view of the peaks. But just one view. The rest was blocked by trees. Rather than take the funicular back to town, I just hiked it since it was only half an hour.

The day wasn't what I had planned, but I got my hiking in, so I'm fine with it.

Tuesday, 10/7/03

Did some more hiking today. The lifts were again closed due to wind, so all the uphills on foot again. The portion below the treeline was not to great, but once I got above the treeline, there were some good views. The peaks were pretty much obscured by fog and snow, but oh well. I made it up to a lake with a small waterfall feeding into it before heading back down.

Now to arrange my exit from Slovakia.

Later,

Sidney

Around the World #23 (09/12/03-09/26/03, Bangkok, Paris, Prague)

2007-07-05T18:25:00.001-07:00

Since I last wrote, I have wrapped up my Asian travels and moved on to Europe. It is very different. In Asia, I'm rich. In Europe, I'm poor. From now on, all of my vacations are going to be in third world countries.

My first stop in Europe was Paris. Paris is indeed as grand and beautiful as all the hype suggests. It is, alas, ridiculously expensive. The weather was beautiful and warm for the first few days, but started to get chillier at the end.

Many of you know Jim. He happened to be in Paris at the same time, along with his friend Eli and our friend Earl from Columbus. Until we met in Paris, I had not seen Jim in well over a year. I also got to see Laurence, who lives in Paris. I met Laurence through Adam (whom many of you know) when they were dating. It had been years since I had seen Laurence, back when she lived in Barcelona.

After Paris, I moved on to Prague. Prague is another beautiful city, and it is much cheaper than Paris (although accomodation tends to be expensive.) In both Paris and Prague, you will find the streets lined with shop windows full of delicious pastries and sweets. I attribute it to Paris's love of fine things and Prague's love of fat. Either way, they're great. The difference is, in Prague, you can actually afford them.

The weather in Prague was a bit chilly, but somehow, I can't picture Prague being warm.

Friday, 9/12/03

Still in Bangkok. Tonight's excursions were decidedly more upscale than my previous forays into Bangkok night life. It started off with drinks at The Diplomat Bar next to the American embassy. The people I was having drinks with included an editor for a fashion magazine, a writer for a travel magazine, and a guy who developes advertisements. (For those in Bangkok, he put together some of the "sharing" ads for Orange.) We were also joined by a guy from the US who works in law enforcement for US customs. (For those in California, he was part of the team that nailed the silicon valley executive for having child pornography on his computer.)

After having our fill of lavish surroundings and overpriced drinks, we moved on to 89--the dance club for the money crowd. (The cover was US$20, but we got in free. It's amazing how many people I know who can get me into clubs for free.) The crowd had a lot of white people. A total poser bar. These people danced as badly as I do. I actually found myself laughing at the corniness of it. Thankfully, our visit there was mercifully brief.

From there, we moved to a more proliteriate bar in the Silom area (where I usually hang out.) Tapas was a small place, but pretty appealing. I was tired and left before closing.

Saturday, 9/23/03

Being my last weekend in town, I wanted to see people one last time. I met several people for drinks that night and some of us moved on for dancing. I started talking to Ray, whom I had not met before, and he told me about an after-hours place. We ended up going together to meet some of his friends. When the after hours place closed, we went to another after hours place until it closed. By this time, the sun was coming up, so we had breakfast and I went home to sleep.

Sunday, 9/14/03

All the previous night, I kept saying that I had had enough to drink--I didn't want to get sick. And all night, I ended uup with another drink in my hand in spite o my objections. So, not surprisingly, a couple of hours after going to bed, I was up with a hangover--my second one ever. I got a migraine and puked, and then felt much better as always happens when I get migraines.

Ray, the person who got me in that state, was required to bring me dinner since I was too sick to go out.

At one point, a friend called and opened the conversation with "Hi, cowboy." He had seen me the night before wearing someone's cowboy hat. (It was Thai sized and way too small.)

My last weekend in Bangkok and I spent a day of it sick in bed.

Monday, 9/15/03

Ray and I ended up hitting the clubs again, but not so hard. I stayed with water all night. When the place closed, Ray stopped to buy some fried grasshoppers from a street vendor. The cart also had roaches, grubs, and some things I couldn't even make out. He munched his grasshoppers as we rode across town in a taxi, and I probably would have tried one had we not been in a taxi--I was afraid of puking in the car. The crunching sounded good, and the spices on the insects had an appealing smell.

Tuesday, 9/16/03

This was my last full day in Bangkok. It was a very fitting end to my stay in that city. It was a day filled with happiness, unhappiness, scandal, shock, confusion, uncertainty, and frustration . I won't bore you with the details, but for all the turmoil, in the end, it felt like a good day.

I met a lot of people today to say goodbye. Between dinner and clubbing, there was a thunderstorm. This was the loudest thunder storm I had seen on this trip. It seemed like a fitting ending to my stay in Bangkok. The symbolism was unmistakable. It was tumultous, really cool, dramatic, and a bit frightening. I stood out on the balcony to watch the storm. Lightning flashed constantly, but most of it was hidden from view by the buildings. The thunder was loud. It felt good.

Wednesday, 9/17/03

Before heading to the airport, I ate at a street stall in the alley right outside of the hotel. It was great. Probably one of the best meals I've had in Bangkok.

I was heading to Paris via Hong Kong. I couldn't see much of Hong Kong when we flew in, but the silouette of the mountain before the glow of the city and the lights of an invisible street snaking up a hillside like a suspended lightening bolt were nonetheless very pleasing.

After a brief stop in the Hong Kong airport, I got on another plane to Paris, slept a little bit, and landed in Paris.

I was on the plane leaving Asia at midnight. Like Cinderalla after the ball, I was transformed. I went from being the rich American visiting Asia to being the poor backpacker slob traveling around Europe. I went from living like a king for next to nothing to living like a pauper while spending a fortune. At least the plane didn't turn into a pumpkin. If anyone finds a glass hiking boot in Bangkok, it's mine.

Thursday, 9/18/03

I landed in Paris in the morning and spent most of the day trying to find a place to sleep. I had not made reservations because I wasn't sure my flight date wouldn't change and I knew I could always stay at a hostel on the outskirts of town as a last resort.

I also got my metro pass, a SIM card for my phone, and a Paris guidebook.

I met Jim and Earl at their hotel just as Earl was getting a cab to head to the airport. A few minutes later and I would have missed him. I ate lunch with Jim and we got caught up on what's been happening in the past year.

I found a hotel by going to the Paris tourism department. The only place available was only available for one night, which meant going through the whole ordeal again tomorrow. I had intended to go out tonight, but after getting to my room, I immediately fell asleep.

Friday, 9/19/03

I went searching for a hostel bed, and after many failures (including one incredible place that is in an old mansion) I found one with vacancies.

I did my lodging swap and met Jim and Eli at their hotel lobby. We chatted and Jim and I went to lunch. Afterwards, Jim, Eli, and I went to the Princess Diana memorial (which Eli just had to see), Montmarte, Moulan Rouge, and then just walking around aimlessly. We ended up walking down a street with the most hilariously ridiculous hookers.

By the end I was tired and went back to my hostel. I had just lay down for a nap when my dorm mate Ricardo (from the Phillipines, living in LA) came in. We introduced ourselves, he invited me to dinner and we walked to Bastille for Chinese food. By the time we got back, I did not have time for a nap before meeting Jim and Eli to go out. I showered and left.

Jim, Eli, and I hit several bars. I was not terribly impressed. The dance bar was particularly disappointing. When we walked in, they were line dancing. 'Nuff said.

I got tired quickly and left just before 2am. I walked home, which took about 20-25 minutes.

Saturday, 9/20/03

It was a leisurely day--I walked over by Jim's hotel and bought a sandwich for lunch. I went over to Notre Dame because my hostel-mate said there was a good bookstore there. I bought the Lonely Planet guide to Prague. After walking a bit, I went back to the hostel.

While sitting at the tables outside the hostel typing my journals, a guy started talking to me, asking a few questions about the hostel. He saw my Sun T-shirt and asked if I worked for Sun. I said yes, he asked where, and I said Menlo Park, California. He was blown away by this--he lived 2 blocks from me. I told him I no longer had a place, and he told me that he rents rooms in his 3 bedroom house, and he has one available. I took his info in case I need it.

Laurence and I met (the first time since Barcelona, several years ago) and walked around chatting. Jim called and we decided to go to his place and go to a cafe. After drinks in the cafe, we walked to dinner. I suggested fondue, so we went and to a place near the Pantheon (a big mausoleum) and had cheese fondue. We walked a bit aftewards and parted ways. Jim flies home tomorrow.

Laurence invited me to stay at her place when I come back. It is far out, near Versaille. I may do that when I get back from Prague.

Sunday, 9/21/03

My only goal for the day was to arrange my trip to Prague.

After a long, scenic search for an internet shop, I found one and used it for a couple of hours. the keyboards had a different layout, which was frustrating.

I wasted a bunch of time looking at discount airfares, but in the end decided on the bus. Unfortunately, the bus for the next day was full.

I wandered around by the Louvre and back to the Marais, then went home and typed up my journals.

Monday, 9/22/03

I spent most of my day on the net trying to plan my Prague trip. Lodging on such short notice was tricky, so I decided to handle it when I got to Prague.

Since my metro pass had expired, I walked everywhere. It was very nice. Paris is wonderful to walk through. Running errands just gives a direction for where to walk. I walked to the bus ticket office and bought my ticket to Prague.

Tuesday, 9/23/03

After checking out of the hostel, I decided to walk south today. I went through Parc de Bercy, which is very large and very nice.

I got tied up in highways and industrial land, but eventually made my way to Bois de Vincennes. This park is not as nice. And I was getting weak with hunger. I did not go all the way to the Chateau de Vincennes because I was too tired and not in the mood. I headed back and found a crepe stand. I had a delicious (although a little too salty) ham and gruyere crepe. This made me feel much better. My somewhat low spirits disipated and I was basking in the charm of Paris--even though it had started to drizzle now, and it was quite chilly.

Eventually, I headed to the bus station, checked in, and got on my bus to Prague. It left at 6pm.

Wednesday, 9/24/03

I actually managed to sleep on the bus, though not well. Crossing into Germany, the border guard didn't like my passport (with its frayed edge and opening around the picture) and took it along with 3 others for further scrutiny. In the end, all was well.

We arrived in Prague around 9am. I checked my luggage at the bus station and started my room search. Things were looking bad. After hours of searching, none of the affordable places had single rooms, and even most of the hostel dorms were full. I happened to pass Extoll Inn--one of the Hostelling International places. The web had said it was booked, but I decided to try anyway. I'm glad I did. I got a great room to myself with a bathroom shared with one other room. The room is immaculate and the cost is less than a dorm bed in the center of town--450 czk (~US$15) with my HI discount. Excellent! OK, so I spent almost my whole day looking for a place. It is in a working class neighborhood about 10 minutes from the metro.

After a nap and a much needed shower, I headed downtown for dinner.

Central Prague at night is wonderful. It feels like walking through a Dickens or Dostoyevski novel. (Fortunately, not a Kafka novel. Kafka is one of Pragues favorite sons.) I ate and used the net. Food is fairly cheap here. I had a big pizza and OJ for about $4. I had eaten a bunch of cookies and pastries earlier. I basically bought them to get change for the metro.

Thursday, 9/25/03

After breakfast, I took the metro to the town center and did a walk recommended in Lonely Planet. It took me through old town square, across the Charles bridge, with all of its statues (and tourists), over to a great, hilly, wooded park around a monestary. This park was very serene and had a great view of the city. Then I walked to Prague castle. I walked around the grounds and through the church, but did not bother with the stuff that required a ticket or guide.

I walked back to old town square, stoppping for lunch on the way.

In the morning, I had decided that it would be foolish of me to not visit more of Europe while I have the time. I feel a pull to go home, but think I should make the most of my time here. Looks like I'm delaying my return yet again--probably for two weeks.

I walked around a bit and saw some great night scenes, including the castle from across the river. I had dinner at a restuarant where the service pissed me off.

Friday, 9/26/03

Today was for errands. I went to the open air market near my hotel for some toiletries. The market is not as chaotic as the ones in Asia. It did have that classic Eastern Europe feel, though.

By the way, Prague is thoroughly modern. The city looks like it belongs to a different century, but it has all the conveniences of the 21st.

I dropped off my laundry, bought a guidebook for my further travels, did some travel planning on the net, and crashed at home. I feel like I should go out, but just don't want to.

I intend to leave Prague on Sunday. I'm planning on spending 3 days in each of the cities I go to from now on, and wind up in Paris for my flight home.

'Til next time.

Sid

Around the World #22 (09/06/03-09/11/03, Siem Reap, Angkor Wat, Bangkok)

2007-07-05T18:24:00.001-07:00

When I last wrote, I was in Phnom Penh, Cambodia getting ready to go to Siem Reap to see the ancient ruined city of Angkor Wat. The Angkor ruins are one of those things that are so built up that I expected to be a bit disappointed when I got there. I have to say, they are quite impressive. The ruins are very extensive, covering many miles. Some are in remarkable shape, some are piles of rubble. Many have full-grown trees growing on, out of, and around them. Of course, being THE tourist attraction in Cambodia, you get innundated by "Wanna buy a cold drink?", "Film?", "Postcards?", every time you walk out of a ruin. Nonetheless, a really cool place.

I'm back in Bangkok now, winding down my tour of Asia. Next week, I head to Europe.

Saturday, 9/6/03

Thien and I got up early and hopped on the bus to Siem Reap. This was a full-size bus with working air conditioning, so we didn't get covered with dirt. For stretches of the road, it was pretty rough. Thien almost got to the point of throwing up and was half dead when we got there.

The landscape on the ride was pretty much what we had seen on the previous drive--lots of big expanses of wetlands planted with rice and trees dotted throughout. Stands of forest. Stilt houses scattered about.

It started raining just as we got to Siem Reap. We checked out the guesthouse that the bus brought us to, but did not like it. When the rain subsided, we went down the street to another. This guesthouse was quite nice, the family running it was friendly, but the noise from the music being played across the street was very annoying.

We walked around Siem Reap just before sundown. It was a pleasant place except for the fact that everyone looked at us like fresh meat for the fleecing. The taxi drivers were relentless. Lots of beggars.

Siem Reap has a lot of large, old trees and a river going through town. There are some decent colonial buildings. It is aesthetically pretty pleasant.

We went back to the hotel, and I actually wanted to watch TV (which I really haven't done since leaving India.) I watched Hannibal (which apparently had the really gorey stuff cut out) and my first episode of Six Feet Under.

The air-conditioner controls were written Japanese, so we had some difficulty getting it to work right. We froze that night.

Sunday, 9/7/03

The blaring music next door woke me up at 5:30. Eventually, I managed to fall back to sleep, in spite of the noise and frigid air conditioning.

We went to Angkor Wat in the late afternoon (you get in free after 5pm if you are buying a pass for the next day.) We took a remorque-moto--a motorcycle with a little two-wheeled carriage towed behind it.

We went through Angkor Wat itself. (The Wat is just a small portion of the ancient city.) It is huge and impressive. I used my failing camera to take a few pictures, removing the batteries after each shot so the camera would not eat them. You couldn't really get any good sunset shots due to the way Angkor Wat faces, and the fact that they kick you out before the sun actually sets.

Monday, 9/8/03

Today was spent in Angkor Wat. We intended to get up early, but because the shutters were closed and we could not see the sun come up, it was almost 10 before we got up.

We got our driver, got some pastries, and headed to the Angkor Wat complex. We skipped Angkor Wat itself, having seen it the night before and went straight to the walled city of Angkor Thom and the Bayon inside it. This is the one with all the faces, and was pretty cool. We tried walking to the Western Baray, realized it was too far, turned back and went by the pyramid of The Baphuon, which was under heavy reconstruction. Here we met two boys who "helpfully" told us about the reclining buddha behind. Obviously, these boys wanted to be tour guides for tips. Mine was actually pretty good.

We went from site to site all day. It was quite cool. I could easily see just spending a day walking around, picnicking, or reading at these sites.

It had been a beautiful day--not terribly hot, and no rain. We ended the day at the hilltop where Phnom Bekang is located. This is the definitive sunset spot. It was quite an impressive view of the surrounding landscape. In view, there was a big lake, lots of jungle, and you could see Angkor Wat from above (although it was too small to get good pictures.) I wanted to wait for sunset, but it was just too long until then, so we decided to leave. The sun set on the drive back, and it looked like it probably wasn't that impressive anyway.

Once home, we ran around trying to arrange my bus to Bangkok and Thien's flight to Saigon. Fortunately, we got them both arranged before places closed.

Tuesday, 9/9/03

I got on my bus to Bangkok. The roads were, of course, mostly bad dirt roads. I talked a lot with the guy next to me.

We hit a traffic jam after lunch for about an hour. A trailer had fallen off on a bridge. When the trailer had been cleared, the traffic on either side prevented anyone from going across. (The left lanes were clogged with people trying to pass the people in the right lane, in order to get to the bridge. Thus, anyone getting across the bridge had nowhere to go when they got across.)

When we got to Poipet, we went through immigration, etc. and our bus company did not tell us where to catch the bus on the other side. Fortunately, I found some of the other passengers milling around.

Nui called while I was on the bus. He was visiting in Bangkok with some friends from Chiang Mai.

Wednesday, 9/10/03

Nui called and we met for lunch. Then we walked over to Pratunam market and shopped for lack of anything else to do. We were shopping for me, but I found nothing. The clothes that I would have bought were not available in my size. Nui, who did not want to buy anything, bought three things.

I met Nui and a friend of his that night for drinks. They flew back home the next day.

Thursday, 9/11/03

I didn't do much today--pretty much just used the net and read. I uploaded my Cambodia pictures and did a little travel planning for Europe. I downloaded the "missing" chapters of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, which I did not know existed, and loaded them on my PDA. If you like that series of books, check them out. (They explain how the dolphins got the earth back and several other things.)

I'll be spending the next several days in Bangkok, planning for Europe and preparing to go home. Hopefully, it will be relaxing, but being Bangkok, it could be very un-relaxing. :) So far, people have been quite amused by my "new look".

Later,

Sid

Around the World #21 (09/01/03-09/05/03, Saigon, Phnom Penh)

2007-07-05T18:23:00.002-07:00

I'm now in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Thien decided to come along from Saigon, so he is here, too. We were both pleasantly surprised with Phnom Penh. We both expected overwhelming poverty and not much that was aestheticly pleasing. As it turns out, it is a very pleasant city, with a lot of nice restaurants, an attractive riverfront, several nice green park areas scattered around town, and friendly people. Yes, there are beggars, but not as many as several of the other cities. And yes, there are the occasional people with legs blown off by land mines. And there are certainly the annoying motorcycle taxi drivers who ask you every 10 feet if you need a ride. And restaurants are surprisingly expensive (but cheaper than the US.) But all-in-all, quite a pleasant city.

When I wrote last, I was still in Saigon...

Sunday, 8/31/03

I had brunch with several of the Saigon crowd and then we went shopping. One of the guys is so small that he was trying on children's clothes.

Monday, 9/1/03

Thien and I went to the Cambodian embassy in Saigon and got our visas.

I got another case of traveller's diarrhea, but not too bad.

Went out dancing to the same place I went the first night I got in Saigon months ago. I was the only white person there, and once again, I could see over the top of the crowd on the dance floor.

Thien was also getting sick by the time we got home, so we decided to delay our departure to Cambodia by a day.

Tuesday, 9/2/03

It was a holiday in Vietnam, so everyone had the day off. We basically just hung out and relaxed until late in the afternoon. We stayed out too late at Phuc's house and ended up packing until 1:00am. We had to get up at 6am the next day.

Wednesday, 9/3/03

Thien and I took a bus to Cambodia. There was a pair of French guys who did nothing but have a heated argument from the moment they got on the bus. Before we were out of Saigon, one of them asked to be let off the bus. He ended up getting back on again before we pulled away, but demanded to be let off again later. Fortunately, the driver took off before there was any other chance for him to change his mind.

The ride on the Vietnam side was fine. We went through the usual immigrations/customs tedium at the border. They just waved me right on by through customs and the border check. Thien had to pay at customs and at the border check. I have no doubt it was because of the nationality on his passport--the only other person who had to pay anything was also Vietnamese.

After waiting at a little restaurant on the Cambodian side of the border for an hour and a half, we got on the new bus. The inside was covered in dirt. When the bus started moving, we found out why. For the first hour, the road was dirt, with a top layer like talcum powder. Within five minutes, we were all covered in dirt. Several of us were laughing at the ridiculousness of the cloud of dirt inside the bus. No one seemed too upset. Fortunately, I still had a surgical mask from a SARS-era flight, and I used this to keep the dust out of my mouth.

The road was crossed with ditches, and had plenty of holes. They were in the process of building a big highway, and the bus would switch from what will be the east-bound and west-bound lanes, depending on which was better. By the end of the 4.5 hour trip, Thien was really sick from the motion.

We stayed at the guesthouse where the bus dropped us. We were tired, filthy, it was getting dark, and the rooms were only $3, so we took one. Judging from the rooms, they put the place up in about 10 minutes. But the deck was VERY nice. The guesthouse is built out over the lake in Phnom Penh. The view and the breeze is really serene. However, the other side of the guesthouse leads to a series of muddy alleyways. It appears to be in backpacker central.

Thursday, 9/4/03

In spite of the fact that you could hear conversations in the next room, I slept really well. Although sound travelled, there wasn't much sound to travel. The only thing that disturbed my sleep was Thien saying that a mouse just ran down his arm.

We walked around Phnom Penh, and had a very pleasant day. We walked down the riverfront and had lunch while chatting with the waiter. We went to the park by the Independence Monument and rested a while. We went through the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda. Thien is a big lover of diamonds, and the Silver Pagoda has a statue of Buddha covered in diamonds, the largest of which is 25 carats. We walked through the cental market, housed mainly in a big domed building. While here, we got to see big spiders sold as food. One was still alive. Then through Wat Phnom on the only hill in town, and back to the guesthouse. We decided not to bother changing lodgings.

Dinner was at a really good Indian restaurant near our guesthouse. Phnom Penh appears to have a good selection of restaurants.

Friday, 9/5/03

Thien wasn't feeling well enough to leave Phnom Penh, so we just spent the day relaxing around the guesthouse. It was just as well, since it was quite rainy most of the day. The movie playing in the common area? Why "The Killing Fields" of course. If it hadn't been for rain and sickness, we probably would have gone to see the killing fields today.

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, another bus trip on the fun-filled roads of Cambodia. Off to Siem Riep and the ancient city of Ankor Wat--the main reason anyone comes to tour Cambodia.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #20 (08/20/03-08/31/03, Bangkok, Saigon)

2007-07-05T18:23:00.001-07:00

My last travelogue was sent from Bangkok, just after my birthday. Since then I have moved on to Saigon in preparation for a trip across Cambodia.

Wednesday, 8/20/03 - Monday, 8/25/03

Hung out in Bangkok. I decided that I would extend my trip by a couple of weeks and go to Cambodia. Apparently, going by land from Thailand is a pain--the border town in Cambodia is run by criminals and they screw you at every opportunity (overcharge you for the visa and transport, make sure that your transport takes all day so you get stuck at their hotel, have "breakdowns" that benefit them, etc.) As a result, I decided to fly to Saigon and go across Cambodia from that direction.

As a result, I needed to get another Vietnam visa. While walking to the embassy, some "helpful" guy asked me where I was going, and when I told him, he gave me this line of "Oh, really? I work right behind it. You know, they are really unfriendly and take several days. If you go to this visa agency, they can get it for you in 3 days." Although he pulled off the role of helpful-guy-not-at-all-trying-to-screw-you pretty well, the touting scenario was obvious enough. I told him I was in no hurry, went to the embassy myself, was out in 5 minutes, and had my visa in hand the next day. Further reinforcement that no one on this planet walks up to you on the street and starts talking to you unless they are trying to get something from you. As if that lesson needed reinforcing. (Ok, ok, there was one woman in Bangkok who asked if she could help and pointed me to the restaurant I was looking for, and there is Prathish in Cochin who started talking to me and showed me around out of curiousity and ennui. But 99.9% of the time, anyone who comes up to you in the street just wants to screw you.)

This lesson was again reinforced later that day, when I was in the tourist-ghetto part of Bangkok shopping for used books. I was wearing a Solaris T-shirt, and the guy commented on it as I walked by. I wasn't doing anything, so I decided to see what his deal was. He gave me a line about having a sister about to go to school at UCLA. We chatted a bit, and he didn't seem to be getting to the point, so I asked him what his sales pitch was. Of course, he would never dream of chatting with me for any reason other than personal enrichment. Gee, would I mind talking to his sister--she had never been to America before and was a bit nervous about moving there. After having spent all this time talking to the guy, I wanted to know what his game was. (I had a lot of fun fake shopping with the tout in Delhi and finding out all about the touting business. I wanted to get a similar education out of this guy.) So, I said "Sure", expecting him to walk me across the street to some shop and try to get me to buy something. Instead, he went to a cab! I said "No way in hell am I getting into a cab with you. I'll go along with your scam on foot in a busy shopping area, but I am not putting myself in a situation where I can't walk away." Of course, as I walked away from him, he feigned innocence, but this guy so reeked of a scam he might as well have been wearing a sign.

But, surprisingly, I've gotten very little of this crap in Bangkok. That last guy was in the backpacker ghetto, which is naturally crawling with scam artists.

Most of the week was just spent hanging out with friends, relaxing, and seeing a couple of movies. I finally got around to burning my photos to CD and sent a copy home so I don't have to worry about losing them.

Tuesday, 8/26/03

Packed my bags, headed to the airport where I wrote some postcards, and flew to Saigon. Thien was there to meet me, along with his cousin Anh and his friend Phuc. (That's pronounced "Fook"--get your mind out of the gutter.) I hung around with them the last time I was in Saigon. We had coffee before heading home. Later, we met a bunch of people for dinner and went out for drinks. Since Lost in Saigon was closed by the cops, the new home for the group I hang out with is Guns 'n' Roses. Yes, an unfortunate theme.

Wednesday, 8/27/03

Went to one of Thien's friends' hair salon for a trim. Came out with the sides and back buzzed off and the top blond. What the hell--it was suggested and I was looking for a change anyway.

A group of us went dancing at Apocalype, which was once again dismal. That place is the most popular club in town, and the only bar in Asia that I actively dislike. They charge US$4.50 for a drink and don't put any liquor in it. In a third world country, that is just criminal. And the music isn't that good. And it feels so..."popular". Yuck. Afterwards, back to Guns 'N' Roses.

Thursday, 8/28/03

A bunch of us went to the International Club. I guess you would call this a gym or a spa. Pool, sauna, "oxygen room" (tv room), weight room, various kinds of massage. Legit--nothing funny.

Then off to a really good dinner (Vietnamese cuisine is fantastic) and off to Guns 'N' Roses yet again. And, no, it isn't that great of a bar--it's just where this particular group hangs out.

Friday, 8/29/03

After a simple dinner at a little rooftop restaurant, Thien and I did a little shopping. It was the first time that I have been in a department store in Vietnam. Pretty much like any upscale US department store.

After shopping, we went to the top of the Prudential building for ice cream on the rooftop cafe. It was a pleasantly cool evening and the night view of the city from the open-air cafe was great. The ice cream wasn't all that, in spite of its price, but that wasn't why we were there.

We went to Apocalypse again, which I hope never happens again. Neither Thien nor I like it, so I don't think it will.

We went to Guns 'n' Roses yet again. While Thien and I were playing pool, I noticed the cops outside. It was 12:20am--liquor is only legal until midnight. For some reason I don't quite understand, they don't actually close the bar--they just ask to see the registration on all of the bikes parked outside. If you don't have your registration, your bike gets impounded. Thien had his registration, but Phuc did not. Thien asked me to go get Phuc's bike, hoping that as a tourist who couldn't speak Vietnamese, they would let me go. (They don't like to raise a stink with tourists.) No such luck. Phuc took Thien's bike and raced home to get his registration before the impound truck arrived. They had just loaded his bike on the hydraulic platform on the truck when Phuc arrived with the registration. Talk about cutting it close. So the cops gave me "my" bike and we were off. We parked the bikes in a lot about half a block away and went to another bar for the rest of the night. So ended my first run-in with the Vietnamese police.

Saturday, 8/31/03

A few of us were going to go to the beach town of Vung Tau for the weekend, but the weather report was not favorable.

I bought a pair of glasses to go with the new hair. ($25 for frames and lenses.) I think I'm going to have to wait until I get to Bangkok for the new clothes. :)

I'll be heading to Cambodia early this week. Thien may or may not be coming along--he hasn't decided yet.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #19 (08/10/03-08/19/03, Vientaine, Vang Vieng, Luang Prabang, Chiang Mai, Bangkok)

2007-07-05T18:22:00.000-07:00

When I last wrote, I had just arrived in Laos and was in the capital city of Vientiane. Since then, I have completed my whirlwind tour of Laos, consisting of lots of relaxation and finishing with a less-than-relaxing speed boat ride up the Mekong. I am now back in Bangkok, after going through Chiang Mai on my way back from Laos.

Sunday, 8/10/03

I woke up in the middle of the night, very groggy and confused. My first thought was "Where am I?" Once I remembered that I was in Vientaine, my second thought was "Where is the guy I'm travelling with?" After realizing that there was no such person, I settled back in to sleep. However, I couldn't, because I had the eerie feeling that there was someone else in the room. I looked around, but there was no one there. Yet I couldn't get over the feeling that there was someone--or something--between me and the bathroom door. Oooooooooo. Spoooooky. Mind you, I was still half asleep, and the thought that went through my mind was "The more attention you give it, the more real it becomes." So I rolled over and went back to sleep. Yeah, I'm not that superstitious and can recognize a sleep-induced delusion when I have one. :)

I caught a bus out of Vientiane to Vang Vieng--a small city halfway to Luang Prabang. The ride was very nice. It started flat, with little towns and dirt roads leading off the main one. Then it got hilly and twisty. Little clusters of thatched houses dotted the roadway (one or two with satellite dishes.) It was pleasantly scenic, and--like pretty much all of Loas--very green.

I did not expect much from Vang Vieng, but was pleasantly surprised. It sits on a river and on the opposite banks are karst formations. These jutting tree-covered stone hills made a really cool backdrop to the river--particularly as the sun set and in the morning when they were covered with mist. There were some caves in the area that I had planned on hiking to if I had gotten there earlier in the day, but it was too late to do that.

The town of Vang Vieng is quite small. Other then the main highway through town, all of the roads were one lane. It did have plenty of restaurants and hotels. All-in-all, I think I liked Vang Vieng better than Vientiane or Luang Prabang.

Monday, 8/11/03

When I woke up, I decided to forgo cave exploration in favor of moving on to Luang Prabang, which was the reason I came to Laos in the first place. Again, the bus ride was very scenic--mountains, jungles, half-naked kids running and playing everywhere, thatched and wooden houses, rivers. The places we passed are the kinds of towns that they promise you when they sell you tours to hill tribe villages. (In reality, these tours end up taking you to gift shops that used to be hill tribe villages before tour groups started coming.) Laos has not had enough tourism to spoil it yet. (I've heard Myanmar [Burma] is even more unspoiled.)

It was a very talkative group on the bus, so there was a lot of conversation. I spent most of the time talking to Hoon--the Korean sculpture student sitting next to me.

When I got to Luang Prabang, I was a bit disappointed. Don't get me wrong, it is a great little city and I would recommend it. It is nestled at the confluence of the Mekong and another river. It is chock full of temples, which is why it was declared a UNESCO world heritage site. It is sedate, quiet, relaxed, easy-going, and attractive. I guess I was expecting something more like Ayuthya, Thailand where walking through town I was just bowled over by the overwhelming and abundant temple ruins. The temples in Luang Prabang are not as grand. Again, I liked Luang Prabang, and would recommend it, but my expectations were set pretty high by talking to people who had been there. To listen to them, you would think they had an orgasm as soon as the entered town.

I spent the remainder of the day wandering around Luang Prabang, talking to travel agents, using the net, and having dinner in a really nice French restaurant. (Laos seems to have some pretty good ones.)

Tuesday, 8/12/03

I booked travel out of town for the next day. I decided that I would go back to Thailand by continuing north rather than backtracking through Vientiane. This way, I could go back to Chiang Mai and surprise Nui on his birthday, which is Thursday or Friday depending on whether you go by the date on his birth certificate or not.

I just hung out, walked around, wrote some postcards sitting next to the river. (This is the river that is not the Mekong. The Mekong is not very scenic--wide and muddy. Kinda like the Mississippi.) It was starting to rain, so I went back to my hotel and finished reading the book I had borrowed from the hotel in Bangkok. (The book is called "Important Things That Don't Matter". It's pretty good--especially if you are nostalgic about the 80's.)

In the evening, I walked around to find a restaurant. On the way, a little boy (maybe 3 or 4 years old) trotted by, said "sabba dii" ("hello"), I said "sabba dii" back, and he kept on his way. He didn't stop and ask for anything, or get annoying--he just said "hello" and went on. Laos is cool like that.

I chose a restaurant near the river. I was the first person there, so I chose a prime spot on the veranda overlooking the river. It was a very nice--but not too expensive--restaurant. The staff were very friendly. Even wearing a sweaty T-shirt, dirty khakis, and a plastic calculator watch, I managed to get a feeling of sophistication. :) Dusk over the river turned to night with a light shower and a few flashes of lightning to illuminate the river. A very good, laid-back meal.

Wednesday, 8/13/03

I got up at 6am, packed and went to the speed boat pier to catch the boat to take me to the Thai border. When I got there, someone said "Hello" to me. It was Hoon, from the bus ride to Luang Prabang. He ended up traveling with me all day. The boat was supposed to leave at 8am, but we didn't leave until after 9am. The speedboats are just like the longtail boats in Bangkok. They are small, long and narrow, and not terribly comfortable. But they really move. According to Lonely Planet, they go 80 km/h (about 50 miles per hour.) They are extremely loud. (My ears were ringing after.) They can also be very dangerous. Hitting submerged objects or standing waves can cause them to capsize and seriously injur or kill the passengers. Each passenger got a crash helmet along with his life jacket. The ride was pretty cool, but a bit tense. The scenery was very green--the banks were fairly high most of the way, so I couldn't see very far except for the mountains in the background.

The thing that ruined the boat trip was the scam that the drivers pulled. A couple in another boat bought 4 tickets so they could have more room. Each boat holds 6 people, so with their extra tickets, they had 4 people in their boat. The driver of their boat removed a local person from their boat for no apparent reason before leaving, so the boat left with 3 people. The boat I was in also left with 3 people, which puzzled me. I knew there was no way they would make the whole trip with the boat half empty, so I figured we would pick up other passengers at another pier along the way. Nope. The boat with the couple that bought the extra tickets had "engine trouble" 5 minutes after we left. And what a lucky coincidence that our driver was looking behind him when the other boat pulled over to the river bank. And wasn't it just a miracle that both boats happened to be exactly half full so that we could stuff them into our boat and continue? So, this couple got screwed out of $50 worth of tickets. A brain damaged 5-year-old could see that this was a scam, and we all made the boat drivers perfectly aware that no one was idiot enough to believe it was anything else. But they would not take the couple back, and they would not continue until everything was moved into one boat. The couple was pissed, but once they realized there was nothing to be done, they settled in and decided to take action when we got where we were going. Even though I didn't get screwed, it just really pissed me off for the rest of the trip. Plus, it made me realize just how vulnerable we were. Our driver could just stop anywhere, with nothing for miles but jungle and river, and demand anything he wanted. Of course, if it came to that, we could easily pound the shit out of him and steal his boat until we got to the next dock, but that would embroil us in a big legal battle for days.

Half an hour before reaching our destination (it was a 6-hour trip) the engine on our boat started cutting out. The driver worked on the engine for the better part of an hour. We were all wondering if we were getting screwed over again--that is, was this engine trouble induced to scam us again. In the end, we went back downstream a little way, hiked up the bank to a little village, where we had to take a pickup truck the rest of the way to our destination. The boat driver tried to get us to pay for this taxi truck, but I made it clear that we paid him to get us there, and he was going to pay for this taxi, which eventually he did. I suspect he was in cahoots with the driver, and I was not going to fall for another scam if I could help it. On the ride there, I talked with the couple about how they were going to handle the rip-off. They were going to try to find the tourist police (which exist in these countries for just such situations) and report the boat drivers and see if they could get their money back. And more importantly, keep these assholes from pulling this kind of shit with other tourists. I gave them my phone number and e-mail in case they needed another witness.

Hoon and I took the ferry over to Thailand and caught a minibus. He took it as far as Chiang Rai and I went all the way to Chiang Mai. After arriving, checking in and showering, I walked over to the bar where Nui works, getting there just after midnight, to surprise him and

wish him a happy birthday. Having been up since 6am, riding in boats, bus, and pickup trucks, and getting scammed, I was extremely tired and crashed early.

Thursday, 08/14/03

Hung out and went bowling. I averaged over 150 which is pretty good for me. :) Hung out at Nui's bar and went dancing afterwards.

Friday, 08/15/03

I celebrated Nui's birthday at the bar with the rest of the bartenders. Later, we all went dancing again. Chiang Mai has much better dance bars than the ones I've seen in Bangkok.

Saturday, 08/16/03

Flew from Chiang Mai to Bangkok. I had only about 2 hours of sleep, so I crashed when I got there.

Sunday, 08/17/03

I went to the weekend market in Bangkok to look for used books. (No luck.) I met my friend Maan there and we had lunch together.

I was still a bit tired so I read most of the afternoon and went out for a late dinner. I was going to go out and meet some friends, but it was raining, so no one was out.

Monday, 08/18/03

I finally got a new PDA. I bought it online and had David C. in California ship it to me. I had to go to the post office to pick it up and pay duties/taxes. I paid $80 for the PDA and another $40 to get it to Thailand. It was still cheaper than buying a new one here.

I ended up getting sick again. Nothing major--just diarrhea again and a bit of whooziness. However, it took 2 doses of cipro to get rid of it this time. By the end of the day, I was fine. I had coffee and dinner with Jake. At midnight he wished me happy birthday and gave me a card.

Tuesday, 08/19/03

I turned 35 today. I spent all day hanging out with friends in Bangkok. I had lunch with Jake, coffee, dinner, and drinks with Komsan, more drinks with Maan, and dancing with Beer and Komsan. It was after 3am when I got home. All-in-all, a pretty good entry to midlife. :)

So, now I have to figure out where to go from here.

Oh, I forgot to mention in my last travelogue that before I left Bangkok for Laos, I had drinks with a famous Thai supermodel/actress. I was having drinks with friends in Bangkok and she knew one of them and joined us. I, of course, had no idea who she was until I was told later. A different friend had pointed her out the previous time I was in Bangkok, but I didn't recognize her.

Till next time.

Sid

Around the World #18 (08/01/03-08/09/03, Bangkok, Vientaine)

2007-07-05T18:21:00.000-07:00

I have finally left Bangkok and gone on to the next country--Laos. Laos was not originally on my itinerary, but so many people I met have said good things about it, I decided to go. It is easy to get there from Bangkok, and I needed to get out of Thailand because my visa is running out. (When I go back to Thailand, I automatically get another 30-day visa.) Plus, I was getting a bit stressed out by things going on in Bangkok, and Laos is definitely a low-stress place.

Friday, 8/1 to 8/7

I hung out in Bangkok for this period. Nui came down from Chiang Mai on the first and left Bangkok on the 7th. We hung out most of the time. He used to live in Bangkok, but I actually took him to some places he had never been before. Another friend of his was in Bangkok for a few days as well, so we hung out with him.

I got a couple of calls from people in the states this week--Vikram and David C. in California. By the way, my cell phone won't work until I get back to Thailand. Not much point in trying to get a new number for Lao, since I don't plan on being here very long.

Hanging out with Nui, I discovered kamikazis. The bar we go to sells them by the pitcher pretty cheap. The first night we had a couple of pitchers, we ended up at an underground club with some friends of his. (He knows almost no one in Bangkok, but almost everyone in Chiang Mai. Lot's of Chiang Mai people make it to Bangkok.) It wasn't a great club, but it was an interesting thing to do once. Since the place servers liquor after hours illegally, it is a very clandestine affair. You walk down an alley, knock on a dark, locked, gated door, and an old woman lets you in. You go into the belly of this huge building to a large room with no windows, so no one can hear the music or see the lights (not that there was much light.) When we left, we had to wait for the owners to make sure the coast was clear. They had a set of surveilance cameras set up to watch for cops, and we could see the monitors as we waited to leave. We exited to another alley where there were people setting up for the morning market. (It as about 5am.)

The next night, we went through 3 pitchers of kamikazis. That was a very strange night of unusual places and hide and seek through the sidestreets of Bangkok.

Nui had intended to go with me to Lao, but when he discovered that the road would be twisty (he gets motion sick) and that the flights were more expensive than we thought, that didn't happen. After searching for discount airfares, we got in a canal bus (much to Nui's dismay.) The canal stank, and we had to pull up a tarp on the side of the boat to keep the smelly water from splashing on us. I thought it was like a hilarious amusement park ride. I think Nui was amused in spite of himself. Afterwards, we went to Swensen's to have an earthquake, which I had promised him in Chiang Mai but could never manage.

It turns out that Nui and his friend Jack know my friend Randy--you may remember him from the Milford Sound portion of my New Zealand travelgue. Randy was in Chaing Mai several weeks ago and hung out at the bar where they work. Randy went to Saigon, so I sent him to Lost in Saigon to find Thien, but I found out the bar had been closed down, and Randy got kicked out of the country after his first day in Saigon due to a visa snafu. He went back to Bangkok and got there the day after I left. Doh!

Friday, 8/8/03

I decided in the morning that I needed to get the hell out of Bangkok for a while, so I bought a train ticket to the Lao boarder and got on the night train.

Saturday, 8/9/03

I arrived at the Loa boarder, went over the bridge to Vientiane, going through all of the visa/customs/immigration beurocracy.

Vientaine is a pleasant, sleepy, small town. I can't believe it is the capital of a country.

I walked around Vientaine (it is small enough that you can do that.) A pleasant stroll along the Mekong and through the central area. For you Illinoisans, Belleville looks like a big city compared to Vientaine.

I had dinner at a very nice French restaurant. Very cheap, very good.

In about an hour I take a bus to Vang Vieng further north in Lao.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #17 (07/11/03-07/31/03, Bangkok, Chang Mai, Ko Samui, Ko Pha Ngan)

2007-07-05T18:20:00.002-07:00

Hi, all.

My last travelogue went out 3 weeks ago, so be prepared for a very long update. But, you're in luck. I smashed my pda recently, and since it contained my journals, I have to describe the first two weeks from memory, so not so much detail. :) Fortunately, I backed up my pda right before it got destroyed.

When I last wrote, I was in Bangkok and had started exploring Thailand.

Friday, 7/11

Hung out with friends in Bangkok.

Saturday, 7/12 to Monday, 7/14

This was a 3-day weekend in Bangkok. I stuck around Bangkok to hang around with friends. Unfortunately, everything went wrong this weekend. Plans fell through, people became unavailable, and I spent the whole weekend bored. Bored in Bangkok. That was a first. Towards the end, I was so frustrated I just decided to go out to the bars and meet some people there. Foiled again--all the bars were closed for the holidays. I did end up meeting some people in the end, so at least Monday night went well.

Tuesday, 7/15

Komsan showed me around some of the places I had not yet seen in Bangkok. Wat Arun (which was very cool), a little park by the river, a simple little restaurant on a pier on the river. All in all, a very enjoyable day.

Wednesday, 7/16

I took the train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai--the biggest city in the north of Thailand. When I got checked in to a hotel, I met Nui--someone I met online. He works as a bartender, so his days are free.

Thursday, 7/17 to Sunday, 7/20

Nui took me around Chiang Mai and some of the surrounding area on his motorbike. We went to some lakes where we had lunch in little bamboo pavilions, where we sat on mats while eating. On one of these trips we met some of his friends and ate, swam, and generally goofed around. We even had chicken fights in the water, which I hadn't done since childhood. (For those not familiar with this sport, it involves pairs of people fighting against each other in the water. In each pair, one sits on the other's shoulders. the job of the guy on top is to knock the other guy down. In our case each pair consisted of a white guy carrying a Thai guy, since David and I were much larger than Nui and Wha. Of course, Nui and I kicked their asses.) When we were having lunch, Nui asked me what I wanted. I made the mistake of saying "surprise me". (For those on this list for whom English is a second language, this phrase means "you choose for me--anything is fine".) Well, I was surprised. When the lid was taken off the first dish, it jumped out of the bowl. It was a shrimp salad where the little shrimp were still alive and jumping. It didn't taste bad. I was more grossed out by the fact that the shrimp were whole than than they were alive. Then next dish was pig liver, which wasn't too bad for liver. The fish was a bit more normal--head, scales and all.

We ended up dancing at a couple of different places over the weekend: Bubble which was a rather formulaic dance club catering to tourists and Nice Illusions which was a much louder, hipper club with a much harder edge. The DJ was OK, but the live band was great. If you didn't have to scream directly into people's ears to be heard, it would have been great.

I even ended up bowling--twice.

Monday, 7/21

I signed up for a tour to do all of the obligatory Chiang Mai activities--hill tribe village, elephant ride, and bamboo rafting. It was agony going with other tourists. The were pissed that this trek actually involved hiking up a hill. They were all told that it didn't, and that they should wear sandals for the rafting portion.

The hill tribe villages were, of course, nothing but gift shops.

When we got to the elephant riding portion, I was the only one who actually sat on the elephant rather than the seat on its back. It was a bit hard to hold on. I bought my first souvenir--a picture of me on the elephant. It was a pretty good picture.

Side note: I decided early on not to buy souvenirs on this trip, so don't be pissed when you don't get anything when I get back.

We went to a pretty cool waterfall, where I slipped on a rock and landed on my PDA, smashing the LCD. Since we were there for a while, I took everything out of my pockets and played under the waterfall and used the slippery rocks as a waterslide. Very cool. Nobody else seemed interested--even those who put on bathing suits. A really dead group of people.

On the bamboo rafting portion of the trip, I got to be the punter in the back of the raft. Going through some rapids, water came over, the raft twisted, and I fell off. I whacked my knee on a rock--I felt that for a few days. I was the only person who fell off a raft.

When I got back, Nui and I went PDA shopping (no luck) and had dinner at a nice restaurant by the river.

Tuesday, 7/22

Hung out with Nui before heading to the train station to go back to Bangkok. We relaxed by the lake. It was a mad dash to the train station, as another bout of travellers' diarrhea kicked in. One cipro and it was gone. The night train was quite nice.

Wednesday, 7/23

Hung out with Komsan and planned to go to Ko Samui with him. We saw the movie 28 Days Later. $2.50 to see a movie--and you get to choose your seat when you buy the ticket.

Thursday, 7/24

Hung out for friends and packed for the trip.

Friday, 7/25

Komsan and I took the train, bus, and ferry to Ko Samui. We got there after 9:00, which made finding lodging difficult. We were not in good spirits when we finally got to sleep.

Saturday, 7/26

Komsan and I found a new bungalow off the beach, hung out on the beach, swam, and had dinner on the beach.

We decided to explore the Samui night life. Man, was that depressing. The dance clubs were dead, so we ended up at a drag show, or as they are called in Thailand, a "caberet". That was the most lackluster drag show I have ever seen. It looked like it was trying to be Vegas. It succeeded in being plastic, but not in being glamorous. It was obviously packaged for a straight audience, which was pretty much all that was there. Before the show started, it looked like a strip club, but none of the performers where really women. I had never seen THAT before, and I hope I never do again.

I got bored there, so we went back to a dance club. Picture a large dance floor full of tourists who can't dance. Now I know how I must look when I dance. Scary. The music sucked, and the atmosphere was pretty lame. We didn't stay there long. Not much else to do in Samui, so we went to the bungalow and fell asleep to the pounding techno bass line.

I should mention that on Ko Samui, almost no one there is Thai. All the tourists are white. I was not the one that stood out--Komsan was.

Sunday, 7/27

We decided Ko Samui was lame and headed to the neighboring island of Ko Pha Ngan. We were told there was going to be a full moon party the next night. The island is famous world wide for it. It is a big beach party rave, generally full of drug heads. If we had an almanac, we could have seen that the full moon was not for two weeks.

We stayed at a quiet beach in a little cove. Our bungalow was very nice ($5 US) and sat on a cliff over the ocean and overlooked the beach. I thought it was great, but Komsan thought it was too quiet. We decided to head to the distant island of Phuket the next day.

We went snorkelling, which although not great, was quite fun. We watched the sun set from a rocky outcropping and had dinner on the beach. Afterwards, we got a bottle of rum and drank it on the porch of our bungalow, alternating between who got to sit in the hammock. We just sat and talked all night. A great night.

Monday, 7/28

We were going to take the 9:30 taxi to the ferry pier for the 10:00 ferry to the mainland. The taxi was 10 minutes late--we got to the pier just after they finished boarding. We missed it by a minute. I was SO pissed. The next boat was in 3 hours. That meant getting to Phuket late at night. Sadly, it was decided that we would stay on Ko Pha Ngan another night and then head back to Bangkok the next day. I was depressed.

We went to the main beach on the island and found another bungalow in the hills overlooking the beach. We played games in the sand--tic tac toe, connect four, othello. (Othello was tricky in sand.) It was surprisingly fun and brought up our spirits. We went snorkelling, but saw nothing.

Once again, we spent the evening drinking a bottle of rum on the porch. There was a rain storm going on at the time, which was pretty cool. A REALLY loud thunder clap startled me so bad that my chair leg slipped through the boards and I fell over. We laughed over that for quite a while.

We went for dinner where I introduced Komsan to lamb chops and Long Island iced tea. I also tried my first B52--pretty good.

The beach front bars laid down mats on the beach around fire pits for the "Black Moon Party"--not the Full Moon Party. It was ok, but not real lively.

Tuesday, 7/29

We took the ferry off the island, and a bus to the train station. We had 3 hours to kill before our night train left. We had a liesurely dinner in a little restaurant chosen because the clientel was Asian and not white. (For a restuarant in Asia a purely white clientel is a bad sign.) I had black eggs for the first time. Kind of odd, but not bad. Eggs pickled until the yolk becomes black and the whites are a translucent black.

After dinner, we got yet another bottle of rum and drank it at a street side cafe. I got a deck of cards for the train ride.

At the last minute I decided that we would go first class. We had a little compartment to ourselves, which was pretty cool. We played cards all night. When he commented on my shuffling skills, I joknigly asked if he had been a dealer in a casino. He had. He taught me the game he dealt, which I had never seen before. I taught him black jack, which he had never seen before. He won all of my pocket change before we quit. It was a hilariously fun night of cards. The rum didn't hurt.

Wednesday, 7/30

We woke up and got off the train in Bangkok, taking separate taxis home. Mine tried to rip me off.

I hung out with Jak and saw the new Tomb Raider movie. Wait for the DVD.

Thursday, 7/31

While having lunch, I got a call from Thien in Vietnam. It was great to hear from him again.

I went to the internet and chatted with a bunch of people. Seemed like everyone I knew in India was online today.

I met several groups of friends at a bar in Bangkok and we all ended up in a dance club later.

And today, my friend Nui is coming down from Chiang Mai to visit in Bangkok.

Well, that about wraps it up. Tune in next time and find out which country I visit next. It's a surprise! It was not on my original itinerary.

Best wishes,

Sidney

Around the World #16 (07/03/03-07/10/03, Saigon, Bangkok, Ayutthaya)

2007-07-05T18:20:00.001-07:00

Hi, all.

I'm back in Bangkok, getting ready to explore Thailand. Man, I love this city.

When we last left our story, I was still in Saigon...

Thursday, 7/3/03

My last night in Vietnam. Went out and played pool.

Friday, 7/4/03

I flew to Bangkok and found a hotel in the heart of town for $10 a night. Quiet, close to everything, nothing fancy, but plenty for me. Once again, getting to Bangkok feels like going home. I met Dew for dinner and was going to meet some other friends for dancing later, but I needed a nap and couldn't wake up afterwards. Seems like a waste of my first night back in Bangkok.

Saturday, 7/5/03

I decided to get a GSM mobile phone so I could have a phone wherever I go. For those who aren't familiar, you can buy a phone that takes SIM cards. When you go to a new country, you buy a new SIM card which has a phone number and some minutes, which can be increased as needed. So, with one phone, you have as many phone numbers in as many countries as you need. And its cheaper than renting a phone. (My tri-band phone [covers pretty much everywhere] cost about US$90 including the $12 for SIM card and talk time.)

Krit and I went phone shopping at the mall across from my hotel. There is an entire floor that is pretty much just mobile phones. I am basically staying in a block of malls. They are pretty amazing. They are like a cross between an Asian market and a regular mall on steroids. I couldn't decide on a phone and decided to research the topic some more.

After a brief nap before dinner, Komsan called and said he was at the mall next door, so I briefly had coffee with him before heading to dinner with Siam and his friend. We went to a restaurant by the river before heading to a sidewalk cafe for drinks where I met Beer and his friends, whom I went dancing with after Siam went home. As you can see, I developed quite a circle of friends in my one week in Bangkok last time. :)

Sunday, 7/6/03

Spent the day meeting people for coffee, dinner, and dancing.

Monday, 7/7/03

I got sick today. The usual--diarrhea, stomach upset, tiredness. At least I didn't puke. I took cipro and things subsided by the end of the day. I went shopping and bought my cell phone.

Tuesday, 7/8/03

I still wasn't feeling well enough to be making day trips out of Bangkok, so I walked around Bangkok instead. I found the train station and went through the market streets of Chinatown. I finally found a pharmacy that carried my malaria drug, which I had run out of a week earlier.

Wednesday, 7/9/03

Today I took the train from Bangkok to Ayutthaya, which is an hour and a half away by train. The city used to be the capital of Thailand centuries ago and has an incredible assortment of temple ruins of various styles. There are at least a dozen ruins all within walking distance. Pretty amazing stuff.

Thursday, 7/10/03

I ran errands today--had my laundry done and got a haircut. I talked to Komsan-- who is from Ayutthaya--and he told me that he had sent me an SMS message that he had yesterday off. He could have gone with me to Ayutthaya if I had received the message. Doh!

I had intended to do a bunch of day trips from Bangkok this week, but my plans got screwed up by my illness. I want to hang around with friends in Bangkok this weekend, which is a 3 day weekend for them. (Although no one has been able to tell me just what the occasion is.)

So far, Thailand is great. We'll see how I fare outside of the Bangkok area.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #15 (06/20/03-07/03/03, Sapa, Hanoi, Tam Coc, Halong Bay, Cat Ba, Saigon, Mekong delta)

2007-07-05T18:19:00.001-07:00

Get ready for another long one! I've finished touring Vietnam and am just chilling out in Saigon for a few days before moving on to the next country. Vietnam has been a great place to visit--my favorite on this trip so far. (I'm not counting Thailand since I've only seen Bangkok.) It is very scenic, clean, decent tourism infrastructure, the people are decent, it's cheap, safe, and the food is great. I would heartily recommend a visit.

There is a lot of detail in this e-mail, partly because a few people have told me that they will be in Vietnam shortly and are interested in hearing about it. If anyone wants the names of hotels and such, let me know.

Friday, 6/20/03

After sending my last journal, Thien and I went back to the hotel to get our bags and wait for our ride to the train to Sapa. While waiting in the lobby, what should happen to be playing but "Apocalypse Now". It's an odd feeling to be watching that movie as the only American in a room full of Vietnamese. When it got to the scene where the helicopters storm the beach blaring Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" and the villagers were getting blasted, the picture suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a test pattern. The English language soundtrack was still playing, but no picture. I asked Thien if this was intentional censorship, he didn't really know.

In my last journal, I mentioned that Thien and I were reluctantly taking a package tour to Sapa. Boy, did we regret it. Sapa is great--my favorite place in Vietnam--but the package sucked, as you will see.

The guy from the tour company picked us up half an hour late and put us on a train that left half an hour later than our expected train. This would not have been a problem, but it would have been nice to know this ahead of time. Our train car (a 4-person soft sleeper) was not air-conditioned, which it was supposed to be. Fortunately, it was not very hot, but it was very humid.

Riding out of Hanoi, the train passed within a few feet of the flat concrete facades of people's homes. Looking out the window, I got a brief glimpse inside as we went by. People having dinner, watching TV, sleeping on the floor, a little statue of Buddha in the red glow of incense in his little nook.

Saturday, 6/21/03

We didn't get much sleep on the train--maybe 4 hours. We arrived at Lao Cai (the nearest station to Sapa) in the very early morning. We got a jeep with a French couple for the 2-hour ride to Sapa. (The tour operators wanted to stuff us into a van which was already packed, but fortunately, there was no way my backpack would fit.) The road to Sapa is great mountain scenery, with lots of terraced rice fields.

When we got to the hotel, we were really disappointed. The view was great, but the floor badly needed to be swept (cigarette butts, for God's sake), the bathroom floor clearly hadn't been cleaned, the trash can was full, the promised TV and phone did not exist, and other than the beds, there was not furniture other than a nightstand that when opened, released 4 roaches. No place to put our clothes, no place to sit. The place was also quite noisy, with people making noise very early and very late. The view was great though--although the kids around the hotel seemed to think the view into our room was better than the view out of it.

Clearly, the hotel knew we were package tourist who had already paid for the room and did not give a shit.

We had breakfast on the terrace of the hotel restaurant. The food at this hotel (meals were included in the package) was definitely package tour food--edible, but not what you would eat if you had a choice. The restaurant terrace had such a great view, that I didn't really care that much about the mediocre food.

We met out tour guide for our first hike. Our tour group consisted of just me and Tien. The hike was nice--a paved look passing a waterfall and going up and down the side of on of the mountains. A nice hike, but one that certainly does not need a guide. Lots of dragonflies and butterflies. Near the end of the hike, we ended up sitting over a flowing ditch, kicking back and talking, which was much more pleasant than it sounds.

Sunday, 6/22/03

We met our guide for another hike. It was drizzly and foggy, so we didn't see much for the first hour. The conversation was all in Vietnamese, so I didn't participate much. After stopping in a cafe with a great view of the valley, we proceded down the muddy path to the river in the valley floor. It was very slippery, but I found it easier to walk quickly and let momentum do the work rather than get a firm foothold for each step. As a result, I got way ahead of the others, which was good, because I much more in the mood to hike by myself that day.

After crossing the footbridge over the river, we went through rice paddies and through a couple of villages populated by some of the hill tribes in the area. (There are 5 minority people around Sapa.) It was really very cool, with fantastic scenery. For this hike, the guide came in handy, because it was not a normal, marked track. But I suspect any path we took would have been fantastic.

We took a jeep back to town after the hike.

Monday, 6/23/03

It was a foggy, rainy day, and Thien slept very late. Our guide stopped by, and I asked him what time the train left. When he said I could just look at the tickets, I told him I couldn't because we were never given them. He checked a bit and told us that they would be waiting for us in Lao Cai. Foreshadowing.

The guide invited us for coffee in the afternoon, which we did. We had coffee on a deck overlooking the valley, which was alternately filled with fog, rain, and clear sky, changing every 10 minutes. Most of our conversation was in Vietnamese again, but in the English part, I found out that our guide wanted to spend a few years in an English speaking country to improve his English which would also improve his job prospects.

After this point, our day turned to crap. You know those pictures from the 60's of people trying to see how many people they could stuff into a VW Beetle? Replace the VW with a van and set it in motion down a twisty, bumpy, half-paved mountain road and you have a pretty good image of our two-hour ride from Sapa to the Lao Cai train station. The van had 14 people and luggage stuffed into it. One of the 3 girls next to the driver was throwing up into barf bags, although discretely enough that most people didn't even notice.

When we got to Lao Cai, the dropped us at a cafe where we found the guy with our tickets. We were told that we got a 6-person compartment instead of the 4-person that we paid for. Then we found out that it was on a train that left 2 hours earlier than our scheduled train. This rushed us, since my order at the cafe (a baguette and a block of cream cheese) took 40 minutes and several prompts to get. (As if this wasn't bad enough, I had ordered a grilled cheese sandwich.)

When we got on the train, we discovered that it was not only a 6-person compartment, but it was also not air-conditioned and it was a hard-sleeper instead of a soft-sleeper. I was getting more and more pissed with each discovery. It wasn't that these accommodations were that bad--they were ok--but they were not what we paid for, and the tour company didn't even bother to tell us any of these things. We would have been happy to wait in Sapa for another day if we knew that our accommodations were so screwed up, but since they never told us, we didn't have the choice.

Things seemed to be taking a turn for the better when we left the station with only us in the compartment, but SURPRISE! the train was not an express (which we had paid for) and ended up stopping several times, and in the middle of the night, people came into our compartment and got off a few hours later, waking us up each time.

Tuesday, 6/24/03

We arrived at the Hanoi station at 4:30am, and had to rush off because the stop had not been announced. In the rush, Thien's jacket got left behind.

After a bit of searching for a new hotel, we went back to our old hotel, bathed, had some breakfast and slept.

Later in the day, we went to the travel company to complain about the trip and try to get a partial refund. For those of you going to Vietnam soon (a few are on this mailing list) the company was ODC (Old Darling Cafe). They first tried to tell us that shitty accomodations were the norm for Sapa (which is absolutely not true--most hotels were clearly nice, and other travelers concurred that we got screwed.) We stated our case, called them on their bullshit, pointed out where many things promised in the brochure were not delivered, and in the end all that we could get was the price difference between 4-person AC soft-sleeper and 6-person non-AC hard-sleeper--$6 of the $140 that we paid. I told them I would have to get satifaction elsewhere--like posting our experience on the internet as well as sharing our experience with people in thier cafe. (There was only one guy there, who had heard part of the conversation, so I gladly filled him in on the rest.) I still have to post my gripe to the Lonely Planet thorn tree, but I have it written up.

Even though we didn't get much compensation, I felt better for calling them on their shit.

Wednesday, 6/25/03

We took a day trip from Hanoi to Tam Coc on a bus. Tam Coc is pretty interesting--jagged rock hills jutting straight up out of the flat ground. We toured a temple in a cave on one of these hills. Then took a row boat through the wetlands between the hills. The "river" went through three caves before reaching the point where the valley was closed off by a wall of hills. Pretty cool.

Thursday, 6/26/03

Just relaxed and made some travel arrangements.

Friday, 6/27/03

We started a package tour to Halong Bay, in spite of our previous package tour experience to Sapa. There were a lot of boat legs to the trip, so we just took the easy way out and got a package. It was actually fine except for the hotel.

We rode 4 hours from Hanoi to Halong city, where we caught a large boat for the several-hour ride to Cat Ba Island where we were staying. Halong Bay is impressive, with thousands of little islands that jut straight up right out of the water. It is just like Tam Coc, only under water. And MUCH more touristed. I have never seen such a fleet of tour boats. On the way to the island, we stopped on one of the little islands to tour a couple of caves.

Cat Ba city is a tourist hole that consists of nothing but hotels. It is not actually bad, just not interesting and not very sophisticated. It is clear that the town would not exist were it not for tourists. Our hotel was very noisy--you could clearly hear the conversation in the next room (as well as smell their cigarette smoke.) There was a rock quarry out our window, which was better than the construction in front. The whole town appears to be under construction, with even more hotels going up.

Saturday, 6/28/03

We took a bus to Cat Ba National Park. On the way there, the road was blocked by boulders which had fallen off the hillside. The three boulders had fallen in the perfect position to make a wall across the road. After failing to budge the boulders in the road, some of the smaller ones off to the side of the road were moved so the bus could go around the blockage.

We took an 11 kilometer hike through the park. It took all day and was quite arduous because a large part of it was up and down hillsides walking on slippery rocks. The sun was not out, and we were in the shade, but it was incredibly humid and I was wringing the sweat out of my shirt along the way. It wasn't the most scenic hike, and it got to be a bit long with all of the slow rock climbing, but it was decent. The scenery was pretty much just trees, with not vistas from the hill tops. There was a pretty cool swampy lake on the way called Frog Lake. Some of us were a bit startled by what sounded like a dog barking from a "cave" between some boulders and trees. It turns out that it was a frog. We also saw several poisonous spiders on the way. I had a real National Geographic moment when an insect leapt into a web and the spider rushed in and killed it.

The hiking trip really got enjoyable when we finished the forested part and got to the little village. It was in a scenic valley formed by sheer rock walls covered with greenery. We walked through a rice paddy to a little eating place where we had a lazy lunch. The road out of the village was carved out of the woods, with trees overhanging. When we got closer to the boat pier, we were on a half constructed road, which was clearly going to be very attractive when it was finished. From the looks, there were intentions to make this place into a mass tourist attraction which, of course, would completely ruin it.

The road wound along a beautiful little bay hemmed in by rock mountains. The water was unspoiled and very green in color. No buildings existed on the bay, except for one small house.

When we got to the boat pier, our boat had not yet arrived. The 50-year-old Danish guy that Thien and I had been hanging around with decided to go for a swim, and all of the rest of us except Thien followed. (He's shy. ;) ) There was no one else around.

Our boat was a small wooded craft with a putt-putt engine. Rather than sit on the benches under the roof, we all sat on the bow of the boat with our legs over the side. I dangled my feet in the water the whole way back to the town--except where it was polluted. Very scenic, very relaxing, with the sun setting behind the islands.

When we got back to the hotel, our Danish friend discovered that everything had been taken from his hotel room and moved to the one next door. Not surprisingly, he was pissed.

Sunday, 6/29/03

We took the boat and bus back to Hanoi. We then flew from Hanoi back to Saigon and stayed at Thien's place.

Monday, 6/30/03

Just lazed around, ate, hung out in Thien's favorite bar (Lost in Saigon), and booked a Mekong Delta tour for the next day.

Tuesday, 7/1/03

Thien dropped me off at the tour office so I could take the Mekong Delta tour. (He had taken it before.) The tour was OK, but having already taken other, more interesting boat rides in Vietnam, I don't know if it was worth the bother. Oh, well--I can say that I did it. We did get to see coconut candy being made and play with pythons.

Back in Saigon, just eating and playing pool at Lost in Saigon.

Wednesday, 7/2/03

Slept late, read travel books in bed, wrote postcards, and used the internet.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #14 (06/13/03-06/20/03, Hoi An, Hue, Hanoi)

2007-07-05T18:18:00.000-07:00

When we last left our protagonists, they were in Hoi An, Vietnam making their way north.

Sadly, 12 of Thien's 13 chihuahuas have died since the last journal.

Friday, 6/13/03

It was the full moon, and Hoi An celebrates the full moon by turning off all of the lights in old town and lighting it with candles, lanterns, and nothing stronger than Christmas lights. (The only reason we were still in Hoi An was because Thien wanted to be their for the full moon festival.)

After dinner at the cafe owned by the family of Thien's friend Boo, the three of us walked through old town. Initially, I was unimpressed. Same old thing, only darker and more crowded. Things picked up when we got to the river. Floating in the river were hundreds of candles in bowl-shaped paper lanterns of several colors. Several old wooden row boats were plying their way among the candles. We hired one of these boats ourselves, and a middle-aged woman paddled us slowly through the water. There were a few performances on the shore.

There was an odd little game going on as well. Small clay pots were hung from a wire and people in the crowd were selected to put on a blindfold, take a stick, and step forward to swing at the pots, hoping to shatter one. Sort of like a pinata, only the participants only got one swing, and the pots were a lot smaller.

Saturday, 6/14/03

We took the bus from Hoi An to Hue. I was kind of frustrated that a 2 hour trip took 4 hours because of all of the stops. (That, and the driver's tuneless whistling with tons of broken high notes.) There was a really cool mountain pass just outside of Danang where you could see a stretch of beach, fields, and fishing boats.

Once in Hue, we grabbed a hotel and had dinner at a restaurant floating on the river. We had one of the local specialties--rice in a lotus leaf.

We took a cyclo to the Citadel--a walled compound of old buildings, most of which had been bombed to the ground. Between the inner and outer walls was a park, full of children flying kites. While we sat on the grass waiting for them to open the gates to go up on the outer wall, a group of Vietnamese college students invited me over to join them for a drink of wine. One of the three spoke a bit of English, but not much, so our meeting didn't last very long. I basically found out that they were college students studying in Hue.

Hue seems like a pretty cool town. Pleasant in appearance, laid back, and with tons of old historic buildings.

Sunday, 6/15/03

Thien and I rented a motorbike and visited the emperors' tombs outside of town. The first, Tu Duc, was pretty impressive. The exterior was quite imposing and the interior was covered with excellent mosiac bas relief. Plus it hadn't been bombed. It was very different from the other 3 tombs we visited that day, which were more woodsy, but cool as well.

We headed back to town for food. We went to a part of town known for a particular rice dish. We ate 4 bowls of it and had the desert that traditionally accompanies it--a glass of sweetened creamed corn with crushed ice. The whole meal cost US 70 cents.

Monday, 6/16/03

We basicly goofed around all day, and took the night bus to Hanoi. Since it was at night, I didn't get to see much. I started reading "The Old Curiosity Shop" by Charled Dickens on my PDA. (It has a backlight so I can read in the dark.)

Tuesday, 6/17/03

I didn't sleep all night on the bus, so when we reached Hanoi, we got a hotel and crashed until about noon.

I didn't feel like sight-seeing, so we just vegged.

Wednesday, 6/18/03

Pretty much vegged all day.

Thursday, 6/19/03

Didn't do much, other than eat, use the internet, and book a trip to our next destination--Sapa. Oddly, you pretty much have to do a package tour of Sapa, which I don't generally like. (Who wants to be herded around like cattle and spend half the day waiting around?) To save us yet another arduous bus trip, we opted for the night train to and from Sapa.

Friday, 6/20/03

In keeping with Hanoi so far, we didn't do much today. Thien is a bit sick. We got out of our hotel and are now killing time until our train leaves.

Hanoi hasn't left me with much of an impression so far. Granted, I haven't seen much of it other than the old part of town. It seems nice enough, but not that interesting compared to some of the other places. It seems that people really like it, but from what I've seen so far, I like Saigon a lot better. Plus, in Saigon, I feel safer crossing the street. There, when you want to cross a busy street, you just walk into the stream of traffic and let it flow around you. (Remember, they are all motorbikes.) In Hanoi, even being careful, I've almost been hit a couple of times.

That's all for now. Off to Sapa and the mountains. We'll see what the Vietnamese train system is like.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #13 (06/08/03-06/12/03, Nha Trang, Hoi An, My Son, Danang)

2007-07-05T18:16:00.000-07:00

So, this is journal #13 on Friday the 13th. And I'm the 13th child in my family. And my name has 13 letters. Good thing I'm not superstitious and don't share the Asian belief in numerology.

Sidney is dead. The chihuahua puppy named after me only lived 3 days. Again, good thing I'm not superstitious and don't believe in omens.

When I last wrote, I felt like crap with a bad cold. The next day, things got much better, and have been pretty good, with the exception of a few coughs, ever since. Thien, on the other hand, got sick the day I got better, but not nearly as badly as I did.

Sunday, 6/8/03

Thien and I rented a motorbike and rode north of Nha Trang. Pleasant beaches and green hills. Because we kept having health issues between the two of us, we decided to head north the next day and save the water activities for our stop in Nha Trang on the way back from the north, when we would hopefully be healthier.

Monday, 6/9/03

It was a very scenic bus ride from Nha Trang to Hoi An. We stopped at several beaches along the way--all very nice. At the lunch break, we were informed via mobile phone that my namesake had died.

When we got to Hoi An, we checked in to a hotel, and unpacked our stuff. Later, when we gave our IDs to the front desk (hotels have to hold the passports and Vietnamese ID cards of customers), we had the unpleasant surprise of being told that we could not stay in the same room. Hoi An has a law that says that Vienamese citizens and foreigners cannot share a room. Presumably, this is to thwart prostitution. We ended up renting two rooms for $10 instead of one room for $7. Since we already unpacked, we only stayed in the one room.

Hoi An is a pleasant, old town with a lot of French colonial architecture mixed in with various Asian styles. The city has a history as a port city with a large Chinese, Japanese, and French population as well as Vietnamese. It is very quiet except for the restaurant and shop keepers trying to get you into their places in the tourist parts of town. This isn't too bad, though.

Dinner was in a quiet Vietnamese restaurant housed in a French building in the old part of town. We were the only people in the restaurant and sat on the second floor balcony over the quiet street. Motor traffic is restricted in the old part of town. After dinner, we walked to the old Japanese covered bridge, supposedly built on top of the dead body of a monster whose head and tail are in other countries.

Tuesday, 6/10

We visited a lot of the old buildings in Hoi An. Temples, meeting houses, old residences, and what can only be called museums by straining your imagination. It was all very pleasant, even if some of it was not the most impressive. (The old meeting houses were probably the best of the lot.)

Walking down the street, we ran into someone Thien knows. (This seems to happen everywhere we go.) When we went to see a traditional music performance demonstration later in the day, this guy was doing the singing and dancing in the classic opera portion of the show.

After the performance, we were walking down the street and ran into someone else that Thien knows--a French guy who owns a popular bar/restaurant in town. He invited us in for a drink. His bar is in beautiful old French building.

We had dinner and used the internet, and while walking back to the hotel, ran into Boo--another guy that Thien knows. Boo was having dinner with an Australian guy who was on the bus with us the day before, so while Thien caught up with his friend, I chatted with the Aussie.

Wednesday, 6/11

Thien and I went to the ruins at My Son--a town near Hoi An. These thousand year old ruins are from the ancient kingdom of Champa, whose ruins are scattered throughout Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. (The most famous attraction in Cambodia is one of the Champa ruins--the ancient city of Ankor Wat.) Many of the ruins are still used as places of worship by Buddhists.

The ruins were cool, but it was disappointing that the vast majority of the place was destroyed by bombing during the American War. Several bomb craters were very visible near some of the ruins. They were standing for a thousand years, but I got to them about 30 years too late.

We took a boat from the ruins back to Hoi An. It was a great day for the boat ride--a cool breeze was coming off the river. We passed several fisher-folk in their little canoe-like boats or standing in the shallow river. Our own boat was an old wooden craft with benches placed under the covered roof. An old put-put motor pushed us along. Very relaxing.

When we got back to Hoi An, we had ice cream at the cafe/hotel owned by Boo's family. He suggested some hotels for us that were nicer than our current hotel and not so strict about the "no Vietnamese and foreigners in the same room" rule. We found a new hotel, and Boo took us to a street stall to have "the best cau lau in town". Cau lau is a local food made with thick noodles, meat, and croutons in a clear broth. It was pretty good--much better than the cau lau we had at the fancy restaurant a couple of nights earlier.

Boo then took us to the beach just outside of Hoi An. It was a very good beach, with lots of people, but plenty of room anyway. Boo and Thien bought dried squid and boiled shellfish to eat in the beach chairs while we watched the sun go down behind the mountains beyond the western end of the beach. Even after the sun went down and the fishing boats offshore turned on their lights and went to work, there were still plenty of people on the beach. The moon was mostly full, providing a lot of light which was supplemented by the lights of food and drinks vendors on the beach.

I got my Vietnam visa extension today, so I can stay in Vietnam up to another month.

Thursday, 6/12

Thien and I moved to our new hotel, which was much nicer and did not require us to rent two rooms. We rented a motorbike and drove to the nearby city of Danang. On the way there, we ran out of gas, even though the guage said the tank was full. We stopped at a roadside "gas station"--a little shop with a barrel of gas with a pump attached. When we tried to start the bike back up, the attendant noticed gas squirting out. He took apart the fuel system, showed us the water inside, dumped it out, put everything back together, and things were running as good as new. This took about 10 minutes and cost us about 40 cents.

In Danang, we went to the famous China Beach. We then went to the Marble Mountains, which have a spectacular view of the beach and surrounding countryside as well as a series of caves. Many of the caves are Buddha-ful as well as beautiful-- they have Buddhist shrines in them. Some of them are quite impressive, with buildings inside the caverns next to the statues of Buddha. We were the only people in some of the caves, but there were plenty of bats with us in those. In some, they were making quite a racket. The Marble Mountains were much more impressive than I expected.

I'm writing this while munching on my new favorite snack--peanuts coated with a crunchy, coconut-flavored shell. They taste great and you can get about a pound and half of them for a dollar. Unfortunately, they are really fatty and high in calories. Oh, well.

Until next time.

Sid

Around the World #12 (06/01/03-06/07/03, Dalat, Nha Trang)

2007-07-05T18:15:00.000-07:00

My travels through Vietnam continue, having left Saigon earlier this week. So far, Vietnam has been very good. I suspect that, like the first trip to Bangkok, this is due to having a great tour guide showing me around.

Sunday, 6/1/03

Thien and I hauled all of my stuff from my hotel room to his place on a motor scooter. I stayed the night at his house, since we were heading out of town early the next morning. His house is complete with a very nice little Buddhist pagoda in the garden. And 13 little dogs running around, constantly under foot. (Can you imagine having 13 creatures running around your house? ;) )

We spent the day tying up loose ends before leaving town--like going to the ATM, settling up the previous night's bar bill, using the internet, and stopping to say goodbye to Thien's mother (who is staying at his sister's house in Saigon for an extended visit.) As an added bonus, I got to see the 80-kilogram mushroom at his sister's house.

Monday, 6/2/03

I slept like crap and we had to get up very early to catch the bus out of Saigon. We got to the place where we were to catch the bus about an hour and a half early and bought our tickets. Unfortunately, there were some people who decided that their kids needed seats of their own even though they didn't purchase them. As a result, Thien and I got kicked off the bus due to lack of space. I was SO pissed. I was tired, my cold had gotten really bad, I had gotten up at 5:30 to catch that $#&*@! bus and they gave my seat away. I usually don't make a fuss when this stuff happens, but that morning I was just too sick and tired, so like a true American tourist, I threw a tantrum. I slammed my bags to the ground and yelled "Fuck!" when I was told how long we would have to wait for the next bus. I was kind of surprised that I did this, and Thien and the bus guy certainly weren't to thrilled by it. The heat in the cafe where we waited for the next couple of hours for the next bus just made me sicker and sicker. Once we got on to the air-conditioned bus, I was fine.

The ride to Dalat was very nice--hilly and green. The little villages we drove through, though not especially attractive, were quite clean. I've been noticing a lot this trip how little litter there is in Vietnam. Maybe I'm just comparing it to India. :)

We ended up hauling our luggage to the hotel in Dalat in the rain, and were drenched when we got there. The hotel was quite good for $5, but a little noisy.

In the evening, we visited Thien's friend from school, Thanh. A few years ago, Thanh got sick and woke up the next day blind. His vision is still impaired, and Thien had to lead him around town.

We went to a really cool art gallery where all of the "paintings" were painted with embroidery. Some of them were really impressive. We got to see the workshop upstairs where the women stitch them.

Walking around Dalat, a hill station, it was clear we were back in tourist country. Every few minutes someone came up trying to get us to a cafe, or shine our shoes, or sell us something, or ask for handouts.

Tuesday, 6/3/03

Thien and I rented a scooter and visited several waterfalls in the area. One of them required riding quite a way down a dirt/gravel road past rice paddies and fields. After the first water fall, it started raining, so we kicked back in hammocks in a covered cafe overlooking the river from a cliff.

Wednesday, 6/4/03

I woke up feeling like someone had poured glue into my lungs. My cold reached the stage where I hack up yellow-green globs of goo every morning when I get out of bed. Fun.

At 5 AM, the kid in the room next door started screaming like someone was killing it, which, unfortunately, was not the case. Luckily, those people left that day and things were a LOT quieter for the rest of our stay in Dalat.

We rented a scooter again and drove through the hills around Dalat, after briefly getting lost and visiting the local landfill. The road was very scenic, although parts of it were mud. It wound though tea and coffee fields and a pleasant little village. Some of the valley views were very good.

After getting back to Dalat, we went to the Crazy House. This is a hotel with some truly bizarre architecture. Very organic. It makes Gaudy look conventional.

We then went to a rather unimpressive former palace and got soaked on the way home. Due to my cold, I fell asleep around 7 or 8pm.

Thursday, 6/5/03

We took the bus from Dalat to Nha Trang. The twisty ride took us through the hills down to the palm and rice paddy clad low lands. In one of the villages, it appeared that the main mode of transport was pony cart.

Nha Trang's claim to fame is its beach. It is a beautiful, clean beach that stretches for many kilometers. Off the coast are several mountainous islands. The water temperature is perfect. And although it has plenty of people, it is not a crowded madhouse.

We took a little swim, showered, and grabbed a cyclo to a restaurant for dinner. It was my first time in a cyclo. A cyclo is like a bicycle rickshaw, except that the passenger is in front and the driver in back. They are all over Vietnam. On finding out that I was American, our driver commented that he worked for the South Vietnamese and Americans at an airport down south. I didn't catch everything he was saying. According to Lonely Planet, a lot of cyclo drivers were on the side of the south and ended up with their job after "re-education".

Friday, 6/6/03

We both felt a little crappy, so we just hung around the hotel, had lunch on the beach, and walked to the aquarium.

There was a birth in Thien's household, and it was decided that the newborn would be named after me. So there is now a Chihuahua in Saigon named Sidney. :) (Though this dog is the 14th in the house, not the 13th.)

Saturday, 6/7/03

We both still feel crappy, so we're just chilling today as well.

Hopefully, this cold will go away and I can get back to having fun. I'm looking forward to snorkelling at the islands near Nha Trang.

Later,

Sid

Around the World #11 (05/17/03-05/30/03, Calcutta, Bangkok, Saigon)

2007-07-05T18:14:00.000-07:00

Get ready for another long one. :)

Since I last wrote, I have escaped from India. So, what did I think of India? Well, I enjoyed the trip to India, but I couldn't tell you why. The whole country looks like it was built on a landfill, people treat it like a trashcan, it's hot, dirty, most of the buildings look like they are ready to fall down, it's an ordeal to find the simplest things, it is completely disorganized, and everyone in the street is out to screw you. (This description does not apply to Gangtok and Darjeeling. They were heavenly and I would recommend them to anyone.)

On the plus side, it is cheap, the food is great, and the people you don't meet in the street or in any official capacity are just fine. And it is certainly a memorable experience. And after India, everywhere else on this trip will seem like luxury. :)

Saturday, May 17

I took a shared jeep from Darjeeling to Bagdogra (which has the nearest airport.) I got stuck in the back again, but this time I had it to myself for most of the trip, so this was a good thing. It was an older jeep with no back window, so I had a clear view of the scenery--rivers, mountains, tea fields...

It was a bit of an ordeal getting an autorickshaw from the jeep stop to the airport, but nothing big.

The flight from Bagdogra to Kolkotta (Calcutta) did not give me any views of the Himilayas.

At the Kolkotta airport, I shared a taxi with a family to the YWCA where we all decided to stay.

I was kind of weary and didn't feel like exploring too much, so I just walked around and found an internet cafe. If I had left India that day, the trip would have been the perfect length.

I went to a bar that night with an online friend who was from Australia, but spending 3 months in Kolkatta, which is where his parents were from. We had coffee after the bar closed and he walked with me back to the YWCA. They had locked the door and there was no one responding to our banging. After trying to phone, banging some more, and finally yelling in a window, we woke up the night watchman and I got in. The whole process took an hour.

Sunday, May 18

I got 3 hours of sleep and woke up. I walked around Kolkata, which was much nicer than I expected. (Granted, I was in the nicer part of town and had very low expectations.) The nice, big park, had a herd of goats crossing it. People were playing cricket and soccer. I walked to the Victoria Monument--a cool, big white building which was actually clean and in good repair. There, I ran into yet another "friendly" guy, who after a few minutes conversation, determined that we were such good friends that I should give him some money. That was the last straw. I was officially fed up with India. My last day there, and it broke me. I was in a really foul mood for the next few hours. Then I stopped at a book stall, haggled for a couple of tour books for Thailand and Vietnam, which strangely, made me feel better. I was in a good mood and didn't hate India anymore.

I went online and got a recommendation for a hotel in Bangkok, which I would be landing in the next day.

Monday, May 19

I got up, checked out, and took a taxi to the airport. The taxi was overpriced, but I didn't care--I was getting out of India. ;)

The flight from Kolkotta to Bangkok stopped in Rangoon, Myanmar (a.k.a., Burma). Unfortunately, we couldn't deplane, so all I saw was the airport exterior. A bunch of monks got on the plane and sat around me. (Yes, you can sit in the lotus position on a plane seat.)

Thailand looked decidedly wetter from the plane than the last time I was there 5 weeks earlier. At the airport, I rescheduled my flight to Vietnam so I could spend a week in Bangkok first.

After India, going back to Bangkok was like going home--even though I had only ever spent a weekend there. I was in heaven. No one harranging me, relatively clean, a great hotel room, everything I could ask for and then some.

I met Siam (my friend from the previous visit) for dinner.

Tuesday, May 20 to Sunday, May 25

I spent the week meeting new people (from the internet), eating, going to a few small parties, going out for drinks and coffee, dancing, and otherwise chilling out and having a good time in Bangkok.

The only sightseeing I did was the Grand Palace. It is very impressive. Temples and other buildings done in a very ornate, elaborate, colorful style. All were stunning and in very good shape. It could have easily been gaudy (like French Roccoco) but it wasn't--it was just impressive. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera.

Monday, May 26

I flew to Saigon, Vietnam and was met at the airport by my friend Thien. He suggested a hotel downtown which was very nice, and USD$13.50 a day. (Half price SARS sale.) I took it.

I like Saigon. My first thought of it was that it was very quiet. There are very few cars on the road, but lots of scooters--almost all of them quiet, unlike the screaming monstrosities in Rome and other European cities. The downtown area is very modern, but not in an ugly way. None of the giant concrete behemoths of Bangkok. It is clean, attractive, and very pleasant. Many green parks.

Thien took me for a ride around town on his scooter. Rather than have a coronary, I just trusted that he knew what he was doing. He claims that he has never been in an accident. The traffic is mayhem, particularly at roundabouts. The one saving grace is that it almost never excedes 25 miles per hour-- usually slower. It was cool to drive down the street and see the sea of scooters. Very Asian. I've ridden with him many times since and I still enjoy going around town on the scooter.

We went to dinner and I let Thien order--which I've done ever since. No regrets yet--I've always gotten great food, and it has usually been something I would never have thought to order.

We went to a nightclub in the evening. Although Saigon has a healthy night life, it is a very early one. The club closed at 11:00pm. The nightclub was one of the best I've seen in a long time. Good layout, sound system, and lights. As I was dancing, I felt there was something odd about the place that I couldn't quite put my finger on--it looked different for some reason. Then I figure out what was different--I could see over the heads of everyone else there and could therefore see from one end of the building to the other. :)

There was a small fight while we were there, but no big deal. That club has the smallest bouncers I have ever seen. :)

Tuesday, May 27 to Saturday, May 30

Hung around Saigon with Thien and some of his friends. The cafe culture is alive and well, and the night life is vibrant. There is a bar next to the hotel is owned by someone that Thien knows (although he seems to know everyone) so we go there a lot and play pool.

I'm really enjoying the food--even stuff I don't tend to like. We ate shellfish at a place in a muddy alley in the drizzling rain at a table about the shape and height of a coffee table, but it was great. Excellent grilled jumbo shrimp. I even ate the clams, and snail-like things which I don't usually eat. Anything tastes good if you put the right sauce on it. :) And I did eat actual snails for the first time at one meal. Lots of interesting food, and dirt cheap. (Even the stuff not served in an alley. :) )

I did get a little sick the other night, but nothing big. I have a cold now. Sigh. And no, it's not SARS. :)

We went to a very popular dance club last night called Apocalypse Now. Nothing particularly special though--crowded, smokey--the usual.

I feel I should say a bit about Thien, since his story is very telling about Vietnam. Thien is 31. When he was 3, his family fled the country in a hurry. He and a brother and sister were with his grandmother at the time and were left behind. He spent the next 13 years with no word of his parents or his other siblings. When they finally found him back, they had settled near San Francisco. Thien grew up with his grandmother until he was old enough to go to a government run boarding school, where he lived until he went to college and got degrees in economics and art. In spite of it all, he seems to have had a reasonably happy childhood. He's definitely got a positive outlook.

I have friends in the Bay Area who were born in Vietnam and have their own dramatic stories. Fleeing on a boat to a refugee camp at 4 years old and resettling in Oklahoma. Or staying in postwar Saigon when people went hungry, hoarding food and having to protect what possessions they had.

Although Saigon has healed remarkably and is a healthy, vibrant city, everywhere you look there are reminders of The American War (as it is called here). War machines sitting outside of public buildings. Museums devoted to the war. Tours of Viet Cong tunnels outside of Saigon.

Tomorrow, Thien and I plan to head for Dalat and then north towards Hanoi. Since Thien is on a break from work (the classical theater he does face-painting for is out of town) he is going to join me on my travels. And he's been an excellent guide so far!

'Til next time.

Sid

Around the World #10 (05/16/03, Darjeeling)

2007-07-05T18:12:00.000-07:00

Rather than wait two weeks for the next travalogue, I'll only wait a day this time.

Friday, May 16:

Today was spent in Darjeeling. I started out trying to arrange transport to the airport tomorrow morning. (It is very far away.) I wasted all morning running around to various places to find out my options. None are very appealing. Oh, well.

There was some Budhist parade and celebration going on today.

There is a "ropeway" (a sky cable gondola) a mile or two from Darjeeling. I decided to walk there and take the ride. I found a footpath on the east side of the hill, which was really cool. It seemed like I was the only person on the path who didn't have a date.

I took the ropeway, which was ok, but didn't have views as good as the walk there. I was in the gondola with a family from Chenai (Madras), and we chatted a bit.

I walked back to Darjeeling on the west side of the hill, which is more populated. I took the road for a bit, then went onto a dirt path through the tea fields. Like in Gangtok, when I hit town, I took the little foot paths going between the houses in the sparsely populated areas.

The cool trek in the afternoon made up for the pathetic morning. After the hike, I was starving, so I had a snack of pav baji and masala dosa. (I can see a few people's mouths watering already.)

Tomorrow, off to Kolkota (Calcutta).

Later,

Sid