Last of the Famous International Playboys

As you can tell, any time I spend in Asia causes me to lose weight. I would say I lost 10 pounds this trip. I eat like mad, but the food seems to go right through me. I've never been sick while here, so I can't say what the cause is. I will be on a protein hunt when I get back. That's a famed Mehkong River sunset in Phonphisai, my old hometown.
That was the best smile I could muster while surrounded by people singing Thai karaoke. Some of my close teacher friends Poonsak, Mian, Nong, Me, Guan, and Mian's relatives.
This is how happy my Yai Mai (Grandma Flower) was to see me. Her sister Lumyai is on the left.
Pee Kag and her husband Noy demanded I bend over because I am about twice Pee Kag's height. This is their bookshop.
This is the nice orangutan, who did tricks in the trees after finding a yummy pineapple.

I have never seen an animal 69 before, but here you have parrots at the KL bird park havin' a go. I promise, I do not seek these things out. They just seem to happen when I have my camera.
Yes, that's a damn big jungle tree. No, I did not climb it.
Kinda blurry because this was Mina, the mean ol' orangutan who has bitten, beaten, and scratched humans. She's a single mom. Give her some Valium, please.
Ben, Tomas and A's gorgeous daughter. Blame Tomas for the haircut.
Tomas and A in their Barbie Dreamhouse in Khon Kaen. Tomas is the best looking and fittest white guy married to a Thai woman. Ever.

All Good Things Must Come to An End

Well, friends and family. This will likely be my last travel blog entry. At the end, I wanted to add the intinerary that Leigh Ann sent out a while ago for our trip to Tanzania. If you are at all interested in going there, this is a great list of restaurants, description of our safari, and cool places to be. And trust me, you should be interested in going there. If Africa scares you at all, Tanzania is an amazing place to start. Warm and welcoming people, not too hot or too cold, and amazing sights to see.

As for my recent travels, I believe I last wrote about the jungle trek in Bukit Lawang.
Erwin and I decided to take a brutal 10 hour bus ride to Lake Toba, and woefully missed our boat to Tuktuk, thus having to stay in a hotel that clearly never saw a foreigner before. Expensive by backpacker standards, no hot water as they claimed, no English spoken, and in the morning, we left the desk guy fighting with the restaurant lady because the sign says breakfast included in English, but the restaurant lady was apparently never made aware of this fact.

Tuktuk is a small peninsula on Samosir Island in the middle of Lake Toba, which sits in a collapsed volcanic crater. It is spectacular, but many of the trees have been taken away for lumber and paper. We stayed at Reggae guesthouse, and met a great German girl named Jana (said, Yana). The three of us rented motorbikes the next day and rode half way around Samosir Island. As I hadn't ridden in several years, my driving skills were lackluster at best. When the road mysteriously ended, Erwin broke, but his break light did not seem to like lighting up. So I panicked, used the front wheel break like you would on a bicycle, became airborne, took two giant steps towards a large shrub, flipped in the air, and landed squarely on my backpack. Miraculously I was neither bruised nor even scratched. The bike was a slightly different story. Some paint scratches and the gas pedal was bent. (The repair bill: $3 US. At first the owner asked for $2, but I said $3 would not break the bank. I was ecstatic.)

We stopped at a village where they used to punish criminals in this fashion (and they claim because of this punishment, there are now no more criminals in the whole area). The practice I am about to describe was halted in 1812 due to German and Dutch missionaries. Perhaps the one good thing missionaries have done in Asia.

1. You commit a crime, like murder or theft.
2. You are held in a pen for 7 days with no food or water.
3. You are judged by 10 kings in the area, who sit on stone chairs.
4. You are found guilty or innocent. One dissenting king will mean you are innocent. Guilt must be decided unanimously.
5. You are blindfolded.
6. You eat the last meal of your choosing, using only your mouth, because your hands are tied behind your back.
7. You lie down on a stone table on your back.
8. You are ritually beaten with a large carved wooden staff.
9. You are then cut several times with a knife all over your body.
10. The executioner sprinkles lemon juice, salt, chillies, and garlic on all your wounds. (Besides the obvious pain these food items cause, there is another reason for this culinary torture...)
11. Your head is cut off.
12. The villagers and kings each eat a piece of your flesh, seasoned to perfection, of course.
13. If anyone in the village refuses to eat, including children, their heads are cut off, too.

This is the legacy of the Batak culture in North Sumatra. Interestingly, I met a local on a bus later, and relayed this story. He claims this is all bullshit, and some local guides need to do some anthropological research. But damn, it makes a great story!
We ended our moped tour with a dip in sulfurous hotsprings that empty into the lake and also some pools the locals have built. With rain just beginning to cool off the air, the swim was delicious, and the smell noticeably better in the pools. An uneventful, though downpouring rain, ride back to the guesthouse.

Next day I spent swimming in the lake after diving off my balcony. Beautifully clear blue green water. And the perfectly cool temperature to be refreshing, but not goosebump inducing.

After I left the next morning for Pulau Nias (Nias Island), I spent 4 hours waiting for a broken bus replacement, nearly died in a windy, dark, and pockmarked and mudslide covered mountain road, missed my night boat, stayed in a crap hotel in a crap town called Sibolga, and finally boarded a swift boat to the island, after being swindled for $5 from a bus station attendant who I thought was giving me a free ride to the pier.

Then I met this family from New Zealand, former sheep herders, with their 19 year old son, and
a crazy friend of the mom's who has married a local Indonesian in Sumatra. At first they were great, sharing their nice new rented van for the 4 hour ride to the southern part of the island, Sorake Beach, where surfers the world over come for annual competitions. I soon learned they were racist towards their indigenous Maoris and the son liked to beat up gay men on the weekends for fun. He even married a woman who was 1/4 Maori, had a baby with her, and after she told him she was part Maori, he left her and the kid. Shocking. Plus, they bought 50 tshirts and 50 board shorts in Bali for about $3 each. They were trying to sell them to the poor locals in Sorake for $10 "to finance their vacation." This island has been rocked by earthquakes and roads and homes are still destroyed two years later. These people are POOR. And due to the damage, most tourists are staying away. So they are DESPERATE too. The beach is littered with debris and filled with sharp coral. I took a walk to a secluded area of beach, and that was the highlight, sitting by myself for the day, reading and listening to tunes. Nothing in the way of nightlife, besides the surfers getting the local young boys (surfer wannabes) drunk, cursing incessantly, and complaining about how no women are there.

I had definitely had it with Sumatra. I barely made it off the island because the airline did not take Visa, and there were no ATMs. Luckily, a college student loaned me $30 to buy my ticket, while I gave him my passport. We landed in Medan, Sumatra's capital, and I promptly went to an ATM for the money/passport exchange.

Ironically, my friend Ellie, whom I met in Borneo, was on the same plane to KL. We were in Sumatra exact same time, both following a recommendation from a British couple in Singapore Nick and Hazel. Of the four places they recommended, I visited three, and Ellie went to the fourth (Pulau Weh) and stayed there the whole time. She scuba dove and absolutely loved her time in Sumatra, so I shouldn't scare you off completely. We caught up on our adventures, landed in KL, and split again.

Had a lovely and relaxing time with Leigh Ann's friends Tony and Isaac in KL for two days. Tony is a PhD student with Leigh Ann at Tulane and her former landlord in Nawlins. Shopped the Central Market, got a haircut (my first in 3 months), and ate delicious Chinese and Italian food.

Flew to BKK, bus to Khon Kaen in the middle of the NE of Thailand, aka Esan. I spent a couple days with Tomas, former PCV, and his wife Amy (Warintorn), who was a Thai language teacher when Tomas and I were trainers for the new group of Peace Corps Volunteers. Tomas now teaches 2nd grade at a New Zealand bilingual school, and Amy raises her three kids, Book, Bank, and Ben (their youngest daughter at 15 months). It was all about staying home, ordering food from the car and having it brought to us (A is the Queen of Khon Kaen), watching movies, and catching up.

Then a 75 cent, 3 hour train ride to Nongkhai followed by a 30 minute bus to Phonphisai (same price), my old hometown when I was a PCV. I hung out with Pee Kag, my old tutor and close friend, Pee Mian, my old Thai coworker, and Yai Mai, my Thai grandmother. All were ecstatic to see me, as I was them. Of course, every minute was spent trying to feed me more food. At night, I also got to see some of my favorite teachers: Pee Jow, Pee Nong, Pee Poonsak, and Pee Guan. Deliciously spicy fish soup, Korean style, and little fish mixed with shrimp paste, lime, and pandan leaves grilled in banana leaf packets, and snail salad were the menu on Sunday night. Sap elee elaw gadaw gadea! That's Lao for really, really, really, really delicious. I slept at Yai Mai's house, which she claims made her cough go away, and hung out with her sister Lumyai and her the next morning for a 3 hour breakfast. To make up for not writing her for a while, I scrubbed the slippery moss off of her concrete driveway. Lumyai started helping and she slipped into the soapy mossy muck with her nice temple clothes. And again. And again. Funny, but oh she was a mess. Finished up with a long chat with Pee Kag and her husband Noy at their bookshop in Phonphisai. She kept complaining about running a bookstore in a country where no one reads. Plus everyone is broke with the economy. Nice combo, but they are still happier than being a teacher and principal like the used to be.

Now I am in BKK for my final day of shopping, perhaps a massage, and getting all the crap I have stored at the Peace Corps office.

Thanks everyone for reading the blog. Hope you've enjoyed it. Be on the lookout for Travelblog 2: Return of the Killer Blog.




Leigh Ann's Summary of our Trip to Tanzania

‘The Boys’ Ensemble Summer Travels in ZnZ

30 June Jay & Brett arrive.

1 July Dinner & sunset at Kathryn’s. Jay’s bag arrives. ZIFF Film ‘El Otro Lado’

2 July Boys beach day at Magwapwani.

3 July Spice Tour (LAM & Rich work). Sunset drinks at 236 Hurumzi

4 July Diving at Kendwa with the most high strung dive guide in the universe.

5 July Mwamba Gardens, Bwejuu

6 July Mwamba Gardens, Bwejuu—bike ride

7 July LAM to Mwamba Gardens. Shooting Stars. Yellow weaver birds.
Divine dinner with vegetable curry, lobsters and Pinot Noir from America.

8 July Sunrise at Bwejuu. Afternoon, return to Stonetown.

9 July Rich & LAM work. Everyone met for lunch at Passing Show.
Emily’s birthday dinner at Hakuna Matata

Estrogen NOW (translation: Leigh Ann was in a testosterone deluge) Safari Tour 2007 (Hi Michelle!)
10 July Travel to Arusha. Dinner at Ethiopian restaurant.
Overnight at City Link Hotel.

11 July Drive to Ngorongoro. Olduvai Gorge. In 1976, Mary Leakey discovered 3
million year old footprints left in volcanic ash near here at Laetoli. (Tell that to the next fundamentalist who tells you the world is only 6,000 years old.) Incidentally, this is the closest we got to the Serengeti by the map.
Animal sightings: baboons, zebras, giraffes, Thompson’s gazelle, antelopes, dik dik, warthog, wildebeest
Overnight camping at Simba A Campsite in the park, under the stars with the African buffalo.

12 July Ngorongoro Crater floor.
Animals galore: Hippos, elephants, Thompson’s gazelle, warthogs, jackal, secretary bird (Kori bustard), ostrich, zebras, African buffalo, Greater flamingos, baboons, bushbuck, impala and those four crazy lions dining on a wildebeest while twenty plus hyenas tried to get a piece of the action.
After two p.m. when our time at the Crater expired, we drove to Mto wa Mbu. Unguided walk through the jungle near Lake Manyara where the buffalo and elephant roam.
Overnight camping under the Yellow Fever trees at Migunga Campsite, replete with hot water from a donkey boiler, vervet monkeys who moved in as soon as we packed up the tents and a cross-eyed cat named Bongo.

13 July Up and at ‘em in the morning bound for Tarangire National Park.
This park wowed us all with Boabab trees against a blue sky with frequent elephant parades reminding us indeed, ‘We are on safari. We are on safari.’
Animals sighted: Lilac-breasted roller, Fischer’s Lovebird, giraffes, zebras, waterbuck, dik dik, elephants, impala, warthogs, gazelle, camels [on the roadside outside the park]
Crazy drive that afternoon with hot Kilimanjaro beer, vodka shots and views of Kili.
Overnight camping at Colobus Campsite.

14 July Arusha National Park.
A whole new landscape with lush vegetation and tropical Tarzan jungle scenes. Giraffe sex-ed lesson from father to son. Other animals: red dyka, warthogs, baboons, black & white Colobus monkey [with jackets straight out of 70s Vegas], buffalo, zebras, and Crowned crane.
Guided walk with a ranger—who cocked the gun just once when the warthogs got a little rowdy.
Mount Meru is inside this park and our guided walk started up the route to its summit.
Overnight in Moshi, the gentler of the safari base camp towns.

Cost $600 USD per person, plus airfare to Arusha.
60,000 TSh per person for tip.
$6 USD per person for guided walk in Arusha National Park.
Adieu

15 July Early A.M. flight to Dar.
Mewenge Shopping for wooden carvings.
Jay & Rich depart for US of A.
Brett & LAM dinner at Slipway with Erin Smith.
Overnight at Jambo Inn.
16 July Walking and wandering through Dar.
PM: Brett to BKK. LAM to ZnZ.

Ahsanteni sana! Likizo nzuri sana!
Thank you very much. Vacation was excellent.

Swahili glossary
Mzungu: Whitey
Ahsante: Thanks
Tafadhali: Please
Jamba: Fart
‘The Jambo Gauntlet’: Running through a town where everyone says hello and wants you to do the same.
Mambo: Greetings. What’s up?
Poa: Cool.
Bomba: Fresh.
Kachizi kama ndizi: Cool like a banana
Habari za … What’s the news of…?
Nzuri: It’s all good.
Sawa. Sawa: OK
Tayari: Ready
Baridi: cold
Safari: talk
Twiga: giraffe
Tembo: elephant
Samba: lion
Kiboko: hippo
Punda milia: zebra
Nyani: baboon
Kima: monkey
Nyati: buffalo
Hyena: fisi
Dik dik: dik dik (with a name that good, why would any language change it?!)
Nyumbu: wildebeest
Pongo: bushbuck
Swala pala: impala
Ngiri: warthog
Mbega mweupe: black & white colobus monkey

Contacts
Miranda Bryant girl4peace@hotmail.com
Lisa Johnston lsjohnston.global@gmail.com
Carl Kendall carl.kendall@gmail.com
Erin Smith hi_erin2@yahoo.com
Nadin Hadi nadinh@gmail.com
Emily Morris makhumalo@yahoo.com
[Diver] Dan Steuber danny.alaska@gmail.com
Khamisi & Daniella dmwamba1@yahoo.com
Julius Mlay [Safari Agent]—John (driver) & Arun (cook) kachira1@yahoo.com
Salma [Kiponda Hotel] samatours@zitec.org

Picture Update!

Some fun kids I met while waiting 4 HOURS for my bus to Sibolga, followed by a brutal rainy and mudslide-filled 6 HOUR bus ride to Sibolga, a crap hotel because I missed the night boat, a 3 HOUR boat ride to Gunung Sitoli on Nias Island, and then a 4 HOUR minibus ride to Sorake Beach - and there I was surrounded by homophobic and racist Kiwis, desperate local hawkers, and a destroyed beach. Excellent decision I made. But these kids' smiles made it worth it. Not really... but I can trick myself into believing that.
Ok, so the scenery at Nias was unspoilt (save coconut tree stumps - center) and gobs of trash (out of frame) whipped up by earthquakes and flooding.
My favorite beach shot of Nias Island.
Yet another animal kingdom coupling caught on film. Doin' it lizard style.
The lovely clear river in Bukit Lawang. We camped next to this for two nights and on the third day rode innertubes down the river back to our guesthouse.
Erwin, the Dutch guy who was on my jungle trek. We then headed to Lake Toba, a lake in a collapsed volcanic crater (background). Here are taking a ferry from Parapat to Tuktuk, the main hangout joint on the island in the middle of the crater (see background, to left).
Typical traditional house of the Batak people, indigenous to Sumatra. It is supposed to be reminiscent of a buffalo.
Here I am being ritually tortured because I pretended to a criminal in a Batak village. If you committed a crime, you were judged by 10 kings, and if guilty, they blindfold you to eat your last meal. Then they beat you. Then they cut you repeatedly. Then they poured salt, lemon juice, chillies, and garlic into your wounds. Then they cut off your head. Finally, the kings and everyone in the village ate your flesh. They claim the last time this happened was 1812 after missionaries from Holland and Germany said it was bad. But today there are no criminals! So says our guide. Sumatra was surprisingly Christian, after a bunch of missionaries made them so. Only Medan, the biggest city, and Banda Aceh are predominantly Muslim.
The view from my porch while staying in Tuktuk, with a view of Lake Toba. I would jump off my balcony into the clear lake for swimming. Perfect temperature.
The famed Petronas Towers. No longer the tallest building in the world, but they say proudly, the tallest TWIN towers in the world.
One of the prettiest birds I've ever seen. At the KL Bird Park. Poor thing is confused and thinks he is a monkey.

KL sunset from the planetarium courtyard.
The 2 meter (6ft) cobra that slithered less than a foot in front of me as I walked to meet my jungle trek guide in Bukit Lawang, Sumatra, Indonesia. This was before I even started my trek!
Cheeky monkey. Orangutans are amazingly human like. Absolutely fascinating to watch.

Good God! It Smells Like Someone is Holding Their Butt Open in Here!

Or Sumatra stinks. I am so unbelievably frustrated by Sumatra, all I can say is I am glad I am out of there. From the durian trees which smell of garbage and rotting flesh marinated in urine to oil palm trees which emanate the worst smell imaginable produced by nature. Roads damaged by earthquakes and covered in potholes and mudslides with huge trucks barreling past you on hairpin turns with only inches to spare between you and a cliff dropping down several hundred feet. Cobras passing in front of your feet on trails. Menacing single mom orangutans that you need to back away from VERY slowly. Guides on jungle treks who spend the whole time on cell phones. Cab drivers and restaurant owners trying to swindle you of every dollar you have left. No VISA, no ATMS, robbery masked as exchange rates.

I will write more later when the lava in my blood is not so hot, because I think I will sear that island if I keep writing.

I am now safe and sound in Kuala Lumpur, and heading soon to Khon Kaen Thailand, and then Nongkhai, my old town, and final stop.

Hope all is well.

Jungle Trek, Jungle Trek, In Bukit Lawang, See the Monkeys, See the Birds, See Orangutan!

Long title, I know, but that little ditty is stuck in my head after three days in the jungles of Sumatra. After a brief flight from KL to Medan, Sumatra, Indonesia, I made my way to Bukit Lawang, a little riverside village famous for its orangutan rehab center. (They tried to make me go to rehab, I said No, no, no!). After a lazy afternoon in my treetop guesthouse, reading the fifth book in the Clan of the Cave Bear series (which is totally addicting if you have not read it) while monsoon rains pounded on the thatched roof overhead and monkeys swung from vines across the river, I ate amazing Indonesian chicken with peanut sauce and fresh veggies, while serenaded by three guitarists and a bongo drummer. Whew! That's a long sentence likely influenced by the Faulkner I just finished, Absalom, Absalom! which I hated until the last 100 pages and now I love it. Brilliant disection of the Civil War and Southernviews on blacks, at the time.

Next morning I was off to my jungle trek with Errrwin (roll the r) from Holland, and guide Johnny, cook Ling, and tagalong Rio. We met a wild orangutan who came down from the trees to inspect us and then played on the vines and showed off some acrobatics. The climbs were a bit treacherous, slimy rocks, steep steps, and narrow paths. I never knew this but rattan (as in furniture you keep on the lanai) grows wild here, and they have 1 inch spikes to warn you not to get too close. I did not heed the warning and my forearm was punctured. But later we saw white macaques, black macaques, and gibbons. These three monkeys are more wary of people than orangutans, so we only saw them high up in trees, swinging about. I learned orangutans are much like people: they gestate for 9 months, stay with mom until about 6-8 years, and live to be 60-70 years old! Then we met a mean old orangutan named Mina. Apparently Mina is a single mom, and lives with no troupe like the others. No wonder she's pissed. We did not run, but we did back up and out of her territory.

Camping at night was rough - lean-to tent with sticks and plastic sheeting, but miraculously kept out all rain, which it did all night long, but starting conveniently just after dinner. And both campsites were by the river, one with a waterfall, so we could take natural showers after the 5-6 hours of rigorous hiking we did each day. Then we rafted down the river on the third day back to the village.

I was supposed to go to Berastagi to climb a volcano, but this Dutch guy and the horrendous bus schedule convinced me to take what amounted to a 9 hour bus ride to Lake Toba, a lake in a collapsed volcano crater, with an island in the middle. Much like Crater Lake, but more vegetation and you can swim here. I plan to relax a bit and then decided what to do next. Maybe that volcano (from here the bus is not so bad) or a nearby beach.

Photos to come soon...

Pictures of Serenity and Debauchery

Well, kids, here they are!

Here is my lovely cell at the meditation retreat. Yes, that's concrete. And yes, the pillow is wooden. The green pile is my mosquito net, which I secluded myself under at all times in my room. I shared my living space with a gecko, two house lizards (about the size of your middle finger), three wolf spiders (about the size of your hand), and a couple moths and fireflies. I smiled as I heard the swarm of angry mosquitos just outside my net. Here is the lovely pond we walked around at night. There were several dozen koi living there, and screaming frogs, and croaking toads, and dragonflies in crayon shades of red, orange, yellow. You could do "fish watching meditation" there during the day, i.e. my head hurts and I don't want to think anymore meditation.
This is the group of foreigners I retreated with. I'm 3rd row, 4th from the right, yellow and brown striped shirt. Some of the people I met on the last day when you could speak were from Israel, New Zealand, Poland, Germany, Washington State!, and Japan.
This is Nathan, who refuses to have his picture taken willingly.
Night view of the infinity pool at Le Orchidee where the model party was.

Me, Nathan, and Patrick, on the deck.

The two on the left, Bong, and Cham, in the middle, were part of the plan to get me to be a model. Just some of the fun had at the party. Naughty, naughty!

I'm a Model and I Shake My Little Tush on the Catwalk

Ok, so I am not a model, but I almost was. As antipodal as you can get from my experience at Wat Suan Mokh was my experience in Phuket. I stayed with my friend Nathan, who is now the project manager for a resort which is being built on a private island just east of Phuket in plain sight of those crazy islands in the James Bond movie, Man With the Golden Gun, you know, Scaramanga's hideout? As of now, nothing exists on the island. It will become a play place for the super rich, with homes starting at $10,000,000 US, not Thai baht. In-sane.

Anyway, we gorged on seafood at a beachside cafe, and then went clubbing on Saturday night to a place called Seduction. Not that seductive of a crowd, though, kinda quiet, but the DJ was thumpin'. Gorgeous place though with red velvet scroll patterned wallpaper and dim lighting that made it look like a Victorian parlor, but updated and sexy. The next day he took me to Sing Cape Beach, a secluded beach surrounded by boulders, forest, and a good 200 meter hike down from the road above on the cliffs. Lovely sand, awesome 6 ft. waves, lounge chairs, umbrella, and a waiter bringing us gin and tonics. Nice.

That night is when the real insanity started. We went to Le Orchidee, a hillside resort with cabanas in Thai style, which shared those infinity pools, so once in the pool, it appeared the water line just melted into the horizon line. And at sunset, the effect was magical. Nathan's friend Patrick is a model and director. He was managing a photo shoot for a Qatar magazine about travel to Phuket. As we were sitting on the deck, all of these models came in from the day's shooting on some local beaches. There was Alma from Estonia, an absolutely gorgeous woman from NE Brazil, and then others from parts of the world I didn't know with names I never remembered. It was surreal. Then the photographer, make-up and hair people, and various entourage entered and it was mass introductions.

Then the place exploded with energy. It was discovered the Brazillian woman needed to get to the airport to make a series of flights to Philippines. But no one ever confirmed or even booked her flight. There is one business class seat left going to Bangkok, but they will not sell it over the phone because the plane leaves in 1 hour. So Nathan, Patrick, she and I jump in Nathan's car, because he knows the roads best, and they are twisty, hilly, and treacherous. We race with great speed to the airport, while Patrick is speaking quickly to a succession of people about the situation. It turns out his friend Bong is coming in to Phuket just at that time. Bong buys the Brazillian a ticket, waits at the airport, we meet them, and the handoff occurs. Bong and his friend May are picked up in the Mercedes from Le Meridien. They race ahead of us, cut us off, and May jumps of the car screaming, Do you have any CDs? I need some house music! We oblige, and head back to the villa. It was the most tension I've felt all trip.

Everyone back at the ranch was upset that it was the Queen of Thailand's birthday, so all clubs in Phuket were closed. So we decided to party there. Electro house was pumpin' on the stereo, drinks were made, the sun sunk into the Andaman Sea, and I just couldn't believe how far I had come in 24 short hours after Suan Mokh.

Then I noticed Cham, the stunning Kashmiri woman who seemed to be running logistics, and the photographer, a Russian guy with Andy Warhol hair, maroon windowpane pants and a wife beater, staring at me and consorting.

I yelled: What did I do?
They replied: You wanna be a father figure?
Me: Huh?
Them: Can you play guitar?
Me: No, saxophone, but that was years ago.
Them: Play the guitar.
Me: I can't.
Them: Just hold it and strum.
So I do as I'm told.
They walk over and say: We want to shoot a guy who is dad to four kids, and he is teaching them to play guitar on the beach. You would be perfect.
(It only strikes me now the balance of compliment to be asked to be a model, at the same time as being told, you look like you could have fathered 4 kids by now!)

So we discuss some details, but then the party moves on, and I don't think about it. We all jump in the pool, swim, and splash. Around 6am, Nathan wants to go home, so we drive back to his house. We crash, and I wake at 11am. I try to see if I can change my flight to Kuala Lumpur, which I had already arranged, to leave that day at 4pm. No dice. I needed to give them 48 hours notice or simply buy a whole new ticket at $130. So I fly to KL, express my regrets, say my goodbyes, and leave my potential modelling career on Thailand's biggest island.

I didn't think until now to ask what I would have been paid, or even if they could have bought me a new ticket. Hell, they thought paying 80,000 baht to rent a yacht for a day was a deal. That's like $2500. But these questions will remain unanswered as I assume my ho-hum backpacker life, and leave the lifestyles of the rich and famous to those with money and fame. Bye, Paris. Hope your prison bed didn't leave any nasty sores.

On the Twelfth Day At Suan Mokh, The Buddha Gave to Me...

Wow.

I just finished a 10 day (really 12 if you count the sign-in day on the 31st of July and the final wrap-up on August 11) silent Buddhist, vipassana meditation retreat. Vipassana is Pali (the language the Buddha used) for mindfulness with breathing, which is the type of meditation they teach there. It is also called anapanasati or concentration with long breathing in and long breathing out. The place is called Suan Mokh, which means garden of liberation and was founded by one of the most venerated monks in Thailand named Buddhadasa Bikku. He passed away in 1994. Now Tan Ajan Poh (Venerated Master Poh) leads the crew of staff there of monks, nuns, and lay people who help out. Other key figures are Tan Mehdi, a 35 year old Thai monk, Tan Dammavidu, a rippingly hilarious British monk, 50something?, and Khun Tanyakhan, often called the Loving Kindness Lady, because she teaches that kind of meditation. It is located about a 10-12 hour train ride south of Bangkok in Surat Thani, the same province the islands of Koh Samui and Koh Phangan belong to, if you've heard of them.

What is unique about this retreat is that they focus strictly on what the Buddha taught (as best they know because his writings often have to be interpreted), so there's none of the animism or Hinduism often found mixed in with Thai Buddhism you see at most temples and on holidays. They have natural mineral hot springs, which are great for relaxing your sore muscles after sitting in lotus position (or something close to it) all day. And you eat only two vegetarian meals a day, which are yummy.

The schedule is roughly this:
4am wake
4:30 reading of some inspirational text for the day and then sitting meditation
5:30 yoga
7:30 sitting meditation
8 breakfast, chores, rest, hot springs
10 Damma talk (Damma is the Buddha's teachings)
11 walking or standing meditation
12 sitting meditation
12:30 lunch, rest
2:30 Damma talk
3:30 walking meditation
4 sitting meditation
5 chanting and loving kindness meditation (this is where you think of people you know like friends and family or people you don't like AIDS orphans who need your love, apologies, or good energy)
6 tea, rest, hot springs
7:30 sitting meditation
8:00 group walking meditation
8:30 sitting meditation
9 back to dorms
9:30 lights out

The only differences were on day 9, we ate only one meal at 8:30 in the morning. And day 10, there was a chance to break the silence and share any insights, stories, or quotes you think the groups would benefit from.

What I experienced is hard to put into words. The silence was not hard, which is what most people ask me first. What is hard is sitting for several hours a day with a couple cushions under your bum, and trying to keep your legs crossed, though they do not make you do this, and in fact encourage you to sit in any position you feel comfortable. They provide chairs and stools for those with back problems or the older meditators. But what really is painful is trying to follow your breath in and out, and think of nothing else. They call your brain a "monkey mind" because it moves from events in your past to thoughts of the future, like a monkey swings through the jungle constantly looking for food. There are 16 steps of anapanasati, which the Buddha said is the way to reach nibbana in Pali or nirvana in Sanskrit. Most people at this retreat are struggling with step 1, following long breaths in and long breaths out with your mind and try to attain concentration. I would say in 60 odd meditation sessions, I was able to clear my mind maybe three times, and I mean for a minute or two when I say "time". But the struggle is what actually helps; one nun recommended that your frustration from not being able to clear your mind is just energy you can use to redirect your efforts into concentration. Nice thought, but didn't work for me.

If you are a meditator, here are some tips I found helped me:
1. For walking meditation, make small circles with your thumbs on the pads of your middle finger. This helps prevent other thoughts from entering your mind.
2. For sitting meditation, first slowly think of each muscle group in your body, starting with fingers, up arms, head, back, back of legs, feet, front of legs, abdomen, chest, face, and head again. Think about relaxing each one. Then start again.
3. Also for sitting, think of a mantra, for me it was different each time, like: 'There is no pain in my knees' or 'My mind is clear' or 'Om' (this one made me feel a little new agey, but it worked once). Then constantly repeat the mantra each time you breathe. It's not to put yourself in a trance or anything, it's to prevent you from thinking of other stuff.

So, now my body feels pretty detoxed, and I am in Phuket visiting an old Thai friend I have named Nathan. Then I will head to Kuala Lumpur. Sumatra comes after that.

I'll upload some pictures later.

Joyous! Lotus Position Never Felt So Good.

My Borneo extravaganza came to a close all too soon. With a little more planning I could have fit in the rhino park and the orangutan sanctuary, but they give me strong excuses to go back. Borneo, at least the Sabah state, is great with relatively mild weather, good mix of Indian, Malay, and Chinese food, and a bevy of fun stuff to do. I wish I had an underwater camera housing, because after my climb on Mt. Kinabalu, I went to Semporna, SE tip of Malaysian Borneo. Sipadan Island, I found out, is currently ranked in the top ten dive sites in the world.

This website shows some good images of what I saw, but these are not my photos. http://impressive.net/people/gerald/2007/02/diving.html. Still need to get a waterproof housing for my camera. Though I heard a hilarious story. Kids, don't try this at home. The dive master Tom said he saw a diver open his waterproof housing while 20 meters under the water, take out his flash memory card, insert a new one, and close up the camera. When he surfaced and realized his camera did not work, he said, "I thought this was a waterproof camera!" It appears he did not know the difference between a housing and a camera. Duh.

My first day diving at Sibuan, I saw creatures like nudibranches, box fish, green turtles over a meter long, and fish in color combinations like purple and organge, electric blue, yellow with blue horizontal stripes, yellow and black with white outlines almost like they were snow covered mountains, and my favorite, Nemo! Sea anenomes that were blue, green, or purple, hid bright orange, black and white clownfish as they swept in and out of the otherwise poisonous tentacles. The weather was rainy so visibility was about 15 meters. The second day at Sipadan, we were surrounded by 25 white tipped reef sharks, 50 sea turtles, a zooming squid, lion fish with delicate fronds 6 inches long, blue spotted rays, and a school of 5,000 barracuda that circled us like a tornado! Many experienced divers on the boat said it was the best dive day in their lives, and the dive masters agreed. We lucked out with sun all day after it had rained for a solid week, so maybe the fish were happy to have sun as well.

Then I flew off to Bangkok via Kuala Lumpur. Spent a brief day in BKK getting errands done, and then rode the night train down to Surat Thani. Here I will do a 10 day vipassana Buddhist meditation retreat. No talking, no reading, no writing, wake up at 4am, yoga, hot springs, instruction in methods of meditating, and lots and lots of practice. This will be my third time here, and I really like it. Good teachers, awesome vegetarian food, and a quiet, peaceful setting. You can see the pic of my dorm building above. The Joyous nail clippers are an inside joke for Jay and Anna. Is that great or what? Got it at Se-wen! The website has been down, but in case they fix it, you can read more about it here: www.suanmokkh.org

So I will be incommunicado until August 11. I'm not supposed to use cell phone, and reception is weak anyway, but in case of emergency, you can reach me at: 668-41195574. Then I head to Phuket (Pooget for the uniniatated) to see an old Thai friend. Other August plans include a stop off in KL to see friends of Leigh Ann's and then a raucous trip of volcano climbing, white water rafting, and jungle trekking in Sumatra, Indonesia. Looks like Burma is not happening this trip. Cest la vie.

Be well and remember to breathe in and breathe out.

What's All The Hullabaloo About Mt. Kinabalu?

Lervely cypress trees on the hike up to our lodge. One of my few looks up, because the steps were wet and rocky.

Not feeling very "freshy" but hey, the sign proves I made it. Up since 2am, having climbed in the dark, burnt-out head lamp, lost my hat to the wind, but I tried my best to plaster on a smile.

This peak, seen from the summit of Low's Peak, is called the Gorilla's Head. Can you see why?

My first summit glimpse of the sun as it rose
behind roiling clouds.

Just moments after sunrise.

Due to a lack of nitrogen in the soil from water

constantly running down its slopes, some of the mountain's flowers get it by trapping bugs in pools of digestive goo, like these pitcher plants.

This is a B&W photo of the forest as I descended. The mood depicted was about how I felt. Until I got down, rode a 2 hour bus to town, showered, ate, and napped for a solid 3 hours.

Now I am in Semporna, Sabah, Borneo Malaysia. I will scuba dive the next two days. Today it poured rain so I have been resting my legs, reading a great mystery called The Eight by Katherine Neville - esp. good if you are a chess fan, and writing postcards. On July 29, I fly back to Thailand to make my way to the meditation retreat. I will be incommunicado for 10 days as it is a silent retreat. That's August 1-10. This will be my third time and I am looking forward to it. Check it out here if you are interested:

www.suanmokkh.org

Oh, Me Feet Need Creamin'!

Quite possibly one of the most physically demanding things I have ever done is what I did in the last two days. I climbed Mt. Kinabalu, highest peak in SE Asia on the island of Borneo in the Malaysian state of Sabah. 4092m or 13 425.1969 feet

Yesterday, we arrived at the Mt. Kinabalu Park at 10am. After a short bus ride from the gate, we started an arduous hike through tropical jungle for about 6.5km or 3000m elevation gain. The trail is mostly granite and clay rocks and boulders, with vegetation types changing twice on our way up to the Laban Rata Guest House at the 6.5km mark. Orchids of purple, white, and yellow hid among plants like rhododendrons, and then the trail made way to misty mountains covered by twisted cypress and scrappy evergreens.

Nothing looked so good as our rest house at 3pm. Basically stuffing myself with a burger, hot tea, and noodle soup, I chatted with Scott, my fellow American who just left a biology research project in Brunei because his professor claimed to his face he was trying to kill her - he'll be reporting her to National Geographic shortly for paranoid schizophrenia - and Ellie, a 21 year old woman from Leeds with a lip ring and more earrings than I could count. We bedded at 8pm to get ready for our 3am wake up. A quick snack and hot tea, then we started the last part of the climb. It was pitch black with several stars out but no moon. At points we had to climb using ropes, at others the wind whipped so hard I lost my hat, all the time I tried to avoid little puddles caused by rain days old that hid in the cracks in the raw black and white granite. And it was a true joy when my headlamp batteries decided to die. So I climbed in pitch dark, trying to stay near others with torches. I felt at many times like quitting, because my feet hurt, I had no lamp, my guide was way behind helping Ellie who has admitted "My fitness is for shite," and there were no plants or trees to brace your fall if you did so, as we were above the tree line, but just as I did, the sun's early light started to brighten my path, and I could see the summit just above me with a trail of headlamps heading up. I decided to push onward to the top, and once I stopped, a tomato red disk peeked from behind roiling clouds as they scratched their way over the peaks to the east of the summit, Low's Peak. Rock formations like the Donkey's Ears and the Gorilla's Face shone as ever more golden light hit them with each minute passing. Luckily I brought my guesthouse blanket so I could huddle behind a boulder to avoid the wind, and just bask in the sunrise. I took several photos, but my camera handling abilities were hindered by my gloves, and I was loathe to take them off. Judging by the ponds of water, it must have been above freezing, but not by much, especially with windchill.

Not more than 30 minutes later I headed back down with Scott, a former forest ranger and I am sure he is half-goat because he could hop and skip down that mountain face as if it were made of rubber. I was more cautious, so he often waited for me. We got to our guesthouse at 8am, took an hour nap, and scarfed some nuts, granola bars, and raisins. Then back down through the 3 levels of vegetation. This time I got to observe a brown and black frog climbing up a wet and mossy rock, some pitcher plants with pools of water and dead bugs, and fat squirrels clearly happy with hikers' leftovers. Of course, my ankles and knees were screaming, and occasionally they'd just go wobbly so I'd have to stop and rest. But finally at 1pm, we were back at the gate, and waited for our bus back to town. Nothing felt so good as that hot shower and Hainan chicken and rice I devoured in the afternoon back in Kota Kinabalu, the city I used as my arrival point in Sabah, Borneo.

And why the title of my posting? Thanks to Leigh Ann, she told me about a rasta guy she sat next to on a plane and he quoth "Oh, me feet need creamin'!" after removing his shoes and socks and rubbing his feet in his hands on the airplane seat. I now know exactly how that man felt.

Tomorrow, off to Pulau Sipadan for supposedly one of the top 5 scuba dive sites in the world. Pics to follow soon...

Safari-a-gogo, part 2

Just a few more pics off my camera from the safari.

Hey, guess what?
Elephant butt.
Elephant butt is always funny. But it's especially funny when you can get them in single file lines.
I felt like I was walking my old 2nd grade class to the cafeteria.






This is one is for my Thai peeps.
Chang, chang, chang, koei hen chang ruplao?
(Elephant, elephant, elephant,
have you ever seen an elephant or not?)

This was a kids' song we learned in Thai language
class, that I could never remember the lines of
beyond the first two. Maybe because it is completely useless.
Unless you are 5.



Ok, so we didn't get to the Serengetti. It turned out to be an extra 8 hour super bumpy ride and an extra $100 per day. But we did see the "Small Seregetti Circuit" in one of the parks. Here it is. Just imagine you are in the Serengetti. We did. Worked just fine for me.






Leigh Ann's not really laying down, I just can't seem to rotate this photo now. She showed up all the boys in the Range Rover by suggesting, after Rich and Jay offered her warm Killimanjaro beer, "Let's do vodka shots!" Jay and Rich were shamed and had their
"straight guy" membership cards revoked for not thinking of this first.



Speaking of Killimanjaro,
here it is,
above the clouds,
near sunset.












Ok last one for today!
It's Papa Giraffe giving his son the sex ed lesson!

Gee, thanks, Dad! All the other teenage giraffes get is a couple condoms, and "Don't get anyone pregnant!"

Five Nights in Bangkok Means My Plans Have Cha-anged!

Jay took this shot at a rooftop bar in Zanzibar. I think the place is owned by the lead singer of Emerson Lake and Palmer. It's called Emerson Lake, I believe.



Well, it appears Burmese holidays and weekends have conspired against me. I was told yesterday that my visa application for Burma would take until next Wednesday, giving me only 6 days in the country because I have a set date for my meditation retreat on August 1. So I considered my options and decided to fly direct to Kota Kinabalu, on the Borneo side of Malaysia. It's the city to the far east of Borneo. Stuff to do there includes climbing Mt. Kinabalu, a medium level difficulty to summit - takes about 3 days, 2 up and 1 down, and supposedly great scuba diving at Sipadan Island. I also want to travel west on Borneo to see an orangutan relocation center (they nurse sick or injured ones back to health to reintroduce them to the wild) and a city called Kuching. Lonely Planet claims Kuching has the best food and best museum in all SE Asia. Later on in August, I may go to Burma and peninsular Malaysia. I'll see how things work out. People keep telling me to go to Bali, so that's an option, too.

Here in Bangkok, I've been getting $5 Thai massages, meeting up with old Peace Corps staff I used to work with, and other friends who live here. My Thai friend Byrd is now an author! A publisher caught his blog about traveling with photos in Bhutan, and paid him to write a book (and stop blogging!). Publishers, if you are reading this, I am up to the same challenge.

In fact, here's a poem I started while on safari - it's rough and incomplete, but I thought I'd share.

The Earth is Red

The earth is red

not red of fresh blood

but red of rusty corrugated iron roofs

ancient trees in ravines grow,

baboon-filled, showing lipstick

and presenting for mounting

as we enter their world

The earth is red

climbing switchbacks

into depressed craters

not from meteorites but volcanoes

bursting the earth in spews of rocks and dust

saving the first bidped footprints

locked in mud, ash, and rock

The earth is red

where wildebeest munch grass beside zebra

alongside buffalo with crossbites and ponderous eyes

chins lifted in blase curiosity

and giraffes gingerly steal acacia leaves

from thorny branches forming

dangerous plate-like treetops

The earth is red

with Maasai in brilliant plaids of

blue! red! purple!

beads in concentric circles of white or turquoise

earlobes stretched which create circular frames

of the view behind of circular huts of mud and thatch

where fences are grass and roofs are grass

The earth is red

sprouting crabby lion-colored grass and

placid lakes hiding murderous hippos

where tourists ogle animals but shun being photographed themselves

and blood-stained lions feed on open beasts

defending their kill as hyenas, wavelike,

whoop! shriek! holler!

crouch, lean, lunge, and cower

punctuated by lioness bellows

The earth is red

where elephants cross in single-file lines

across white sand roads

picking up grass in bundles thick

as they trudge and trundle

with no fear of predator save the one

who carries a gun