Highland Mirth in Sapa
10:30 pm
I haven’t been drunk in years. Check that, up until this afternoon, I hadn’t been drunk in years. It just doesn’t really agree with me. I don’t even normally touch the stuff. But today, that was not an option.
My guide, knowing I was a photographer, decided to take me to a wedding that was happening in the area. The morning saw us take a jeep out to the villages and then walk through some stunning countryside. Along the way, we were hounded at every turn by the girls and women of the local tribes who were hoping to sell their handicrafts to the area’s ever-multiplying tourists. Each of them was a sight to behold with all of their tribes’ traditional clothing wrapping them in a picturesque package. Just beautiful
Unfortunately, the area has been touristed enough that you’re only going to get a non-candid photo of them by paying them. At least that was my experience – I talked to a couple girls later who had no trouble whatsoever taking shots of the girls that had been following them the whole day. I might have been a bit unlucky I guess. I only got some willing participants after I bought a couple of small items off a woman here or there.
After walking for most of the morning through the mud and the terraced rice fields, we arrived at the wedding. Gathering only what I thought I might need for shooting the wedding, I headed off from the small house where I would eventually have lunch.
The wedding was being held at a nearby house whose front yard area had been covered in a tarp. Underneath, dozens of locals had gathered and were happily sharing celebratory meals. I was soon ushered to a table and offered some food. Rice was about the only thing I could eat, but the folks who had brought me in quickly changed their tune and decided to give me a drink.
Of course, I told them I don’t drink. It was like I had just punched the bride in the face. Shocked, the man holding my eventual glass insisted that it was bad luck for the couple to say something like ‘I don’t drink.’ Before I knew it, one of my hands was filled with a shot of rice whiskey and the glass was being driven towards my mouth. I figured I could probably stand to down one shot and I wouldn’t be too affected by it.
But no sooner than I had finished grimacing at the taste, my other hand was now holding another glass. ‘Two! Two!’ was the refrain being yelped at me by this pusher and I probably would have cursed the couple forever or gotten kicked out of the place if I hadn’t downed the second shot.
Now, keep in mind that even when I did drink, years ago, I was by no means a heavyweight. A lot of 12 year olds probably could have given me a run for my money or even put me under the table. Considering that I haven’t had a drink in years, I was sure that two shots would be plenty for me and I would feel the effects soon enough.
But of course, two was not the end of things for me. Some slight of hand had either refilled my glasses or they had been replaced with fresh drinks and I was once again being exhorted to down them both. At this point I figured I might as well roll with it as best I could.
I pleaded with the man foisting these drinks on me, ‘Please, promise me that these are the last two I will have to drink.’ I got his promise and thought that four would be somewhere within my upper limit. The nasty stuff was swallowed and stood back relieved that I was finished with the ordeal – I thought I would just have to prepare myself for the oncoming buzz.
‘Two more when you meet the groom!’
And with that I was guided to the groom. By this time, I’m already feeling more than buzzed. In fact, this stuff went straight to my head. So, I can’t even really remember what the groom looked like so much. He was wearing a light blue shirt and looked to be in his mid thirties from what I recall, but if I bump into him tomorrow, I’ll have no idea.
Continuing in the spirit if being a good sport, I threw back the groom’s shots. Immediately after each of them he stuffed small rice cakes into my mouth. They dulled the taste of the shot at least.
Now that they had had their fun getting the foreigner tanked, they lead me over to a chair where I started playing with some dog. I only remember this because I looked at my photos and I have a blurry shot of my hand petting some four-legged friend. In fact, I have a bunch of shots that document the experience for me. Apparently, I took a bunch of shots of the families and then wandered through the kitchen.
Someone then took me back to the house where I had left my bag and sat me in a chair where I continued taking photos, this time of someone’s relatively nondescript back yard. Soon, I was being approached by yet another woman selling her wares. We talked for a good long while and eventually, we agreed on a price for an item I can’t mention here because it will likely end up as a gift for someone.
But soon after making the purchase, she and I became best friends. She was obviously okay with me taking a bunch of photos of her. Fortunately, before I had started drinking, I had set up my camera so that even a drunk idiot could take a decent shot with it. Remarkably, some of my shots of this woman didn’t turn out too badly. My photos from inside the wedding, however, were an absolute mess. The light was far too low for me to try anything when sober, but with drunk and shaky hands, I ended up with a series of blurry nonsense.
After a nice lunch, I briefly visited some kids at a nearby farm then returned to collect my things. Upon sitting down and resting briefly, the home’s owner decided she wanted to get in on the action of getting folks pissed. She wouldn’t let any of us leave until we had all had a few more shots of rice whiskey. My guide and her friends were attempting to replace the drinks with water when she wasn’t looking, but she would have none of it. Nothing got past her and she wasn’t satisfied until I had finished off another three shots. That made for a total of nine in just over an hour for me.
Oddly enough, though I did indeed get more than buzzed, my head started to clear remarkably quickly. While walking along, I could actually feel lucidity returning to me with each step. I’m not sure why, but the booze seemed to be gone from my system a couple hours after the whole affair. Since it’s been so long, I don’t recall how long it’s supposed to take for my head to clear, but I do seem to recall waking up still tipsy once or twice. So I’m thinking my recovery time was pretty unusual for me.
Happily, that should translate to no hangover for me since I’m now feeling totally normal as I write this before going to bed.
I just hope there aren’t any more weddings in the area tomorrow.
9:00 am
What on earth am I doing in a two-star hotel? I wasn’t expecting this.
I’ve arrived in Sapa and I have some time in my lovely room before I’m to go off for some hiking in the area’s cloudy hills. But I wasn’t expecting to be staying the nicest hotel in some time for me. Go figure. I didn’t even really know if I would be doing a homestay or what. I mean, I have a fireplace. No wood, but there is a fireplace here.
And, happily enough, I have this cozy room all to myself. I’m the only one who has booked this particular tour, so I’m all by myself this whole time – just my guide to keep me company. I’m feeling a bit spoiled at this point.
The train ride here wasn’t too bad. I actually managed to sleep on what was, surprisingly, my first overnight train ride. I shared a cabin with a French family and had to try to practice a language I haven’t really studied in 13 years. My comprehension is great, but my speaking could use some work. But overall, we understood each other.
Now I’m just sitting here wondering if perhaps I’m going to be carried along through these chilly mountains in keeping with the spirit of what feels like some luxurious accommodation.
Halong Bay
I just spent most of the day wandering around the old quarter of Hanoi taking portraits of all the interesting faces around here. Most of the people seem to work right out in the street so you see everyone from carpenters to smiths to vendors to seamstresses all working out on the sidewalk. All the while the incessant river of honking scooters were whizzing past and doing their best to drown out all the noises of work.
Yesterday I played a game with a couple of Swedish girls to see how long we could last without hearing a horn blast. The record was eight seconds. Not so impressive.
These two were a part of the Halong Bay trip I took. Halong Bay is one of the star attractions in northern Vietnam with its hundreds of limestone islands jutting high above the blue waters of the bay. Grey cliffs tower over the junk boats that meander through the peaks while calm waters slowly erode the bases.
Two days one night on a nice junk out in the hundreds of islands made for a good time, but the weather could have been better. Though it wasn’t raining, the fog and haze made for what could optimistically only be described as ‘atmospheric’ photos.
A nice group of folks helped make the trip fun and a boat of far higher quality than my last nautical ride made for a better time on board. Last time I spent a night on a boat was in the Galapagos Islands on a small boat named the Yolita. I had a great time there thanks to some incredible sights, but the boat itself wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury. So, it was nice to have my expectations dramatically exceeded with this ride.
The highlight of the trip was definitely the caves we visited. Translated to English, apparently the name means ‘Surprising Cave.’ The huge limestone cavern was fantastic. I had never really been inside a cave like that before, so I just thought it was magical. I didn’t want to leave the multicoloured stalactites and stalagmites, but our tour guide rushed us through. We also took a trip to Titov Island where we hiked up to the top of the limestone peak for a panoramic view of the foggy bay.
The next day before the bulk of my shipmates disembarked to continue their trip on Cat Ba island, we sailed through a floating village and past the symbol of Halong Bay: The Two Cocks. These two small limestone islands supposedly look like a couple of roosters fighting each other. They looked like the sails of a boat to me, but to each his own.
My next stop is the hills around Sapa where I’ll be doing a few days of trekking around the hill tribes of the area.
Good Morning Vietnam
Yeah, I couldn’t resist the title even though it’s evening here.
I’m currently in Hanoi. Not staying at the Hilton here (I’ve heard it’s not so great). It’s a pretty intense city. A bit of a sensory overload and I know a thing or two about that. It’s all a bit surprising to me since most of the images I have of this country come from Platoon or Apocalypse Now. I half expect to see someone from the Sheen family around the next bend…
I’m staying in the Old Quarter of Hanoi and that’s all I’ve seen since arriving last night. It was raining today so I didn’t explore too much – just wandered around the area. All the French colonial buildings are so thin they look like a slight tremor would send them tumbling to the ground. And beneath all those buildings lay cramped streets jam packed with scooters. Scooters whose horns blare incessantly. I can’t really even fathom what this place would be like without all the traffic. As soon as I start trying to imagine it, a horn will ring in my ear from a couple feet away and jolt me back into reality.
All these scooters fight for space on the roads while on the sidewalks women in bamboo hats carry baskets of vegetables slung over a board on their shoulders. Internet cafes cast a glow across the streets onto ancient men fronting ancient shops full of anything you can imagine (often ancient looking junk). It’s like old and new met up and decided to get in a streetfight
The people have generally been really friendly and welcoming. A lot of that is from the hope of getting some tourist dollars, but I’ve met a bunch of people who seem to me happy just sharing a laugh with me and not trying to sell me a tour.
I’m still trying to figure out what to see while I’m here, but I know I’ll be staying in North Vietnam – just not enough time to go all the way down to Ho Chi Minh City. I might make it as far as Hoi An before turning back up to Hanoi. Halng Bay and Sapa are on the itinerary,but I’m not sure when or in what order I will be making those trips.
Tormorrow the weather is supposed to be better than today’s constant drizzle, so hopefully that will afford me the opportunity to do a bit more exploring.
Lastly, I know I haven’t mentioned anything about Singapore here, but I’ll get to it. Just like I did with this wee blog, I might cull some content from emails sent to friends and family – that should make the job a bit quicker. So, sorry if you end up reading something that sounds familiar.
Thaipusam 2006
Update: I now have Photos of Thaipusam 2006 available here.
Thaipusam was completely amazing. Seriously. I don’t know where to begin – it was one of the most intense, incredible sights/events I’ve ever witnessed and I can’t imagine too much that would top it in terms of sheer craziness. Terrible and terrifying, beautiful and sublime, Thaipusam was incomparably intense and fantastic.
But, I’m bloody exhausted from it. I got up at 3:30am and was supposed to leave at 4, but another guy who was supposed to come along failed to set an alarm, so we left at 4:30. He’s another photographer, so that explains him being a wanker – most photographers are. I’m the exception. Go on, try to disagree with me, I dare you!
So I got out there about 5. Already the place was seriously hopping. There’s a procession from a temple inside town and I know there were already revellers at the caves the day before, so there’s plenty of Hindu piecing going on through the night. A bunch of people stop at a nearby village where they get themselves pierced and go into their trances.
I started snapping photos straight away even though it was still dark. Some of the tranced-out weirdos didn’t want their photos taken, but it was impossible to know which ones, so I just went for it and got yelled at a couple times. There was one time when one guy in a trance didn’t like my camera flash. He got away from his handlers and stormed up to me with a furious bluster and an intense stare in his eyes then bumped his chest into mine. I just stood my ground while he got in my face before his handlers retrieved him apologetically.
When I mention the handlers, they really do seem like animal handlers at times. The guys who have gone into trances are pretty wild sometimes. The little posse that surrounds them makes sure that they stay in the procession and they clear out room for when they guys start freaking out.
There were, of course, plenty of guys with hooks a plenty through their skin. There were a few different kinds of revelers. Some of them had the hooks through their back and were then roped or chained to another guy who was pulling on them and holding onto them as they struggled forward. Others had a whole bunch of offerings hooked into them like apples, oranges, limes, flowers, small containers of milk and so on.
Then there were the guys that had, for lack of a better word, headdresses. But that’s a really misleading term. Basically, these guys had a metal hip-belt bolted around them and shoulder pads that supported an enormous, tiered construction that featured Hindu icons, peacock feathers or large religious images. The things had both a diameter and a height of two or three metres.
All of the headdresses had chains with hooks leading down that, it goes without saying, got hooked into the reveler. These dudes would also dance around and spin and if you weren�t careful, you’d get a Hindu god upside the head as they spun around.
A bunch of folks also had their cheeks pieced all the way through or their tongues were skewered.
So they all progressed towards the Batu Caves and eventually all got up all 274 steps. The back-stretching devotees had to unhook before they went through the entry arch at the base of the steps though. I can just see their handlers pulling them too hard and causing an avalanche of revelers, hooks and offerings. The headdress bearers, however, had to carry that stuff up the steps. Didn’t look fun.
Once at the top, a lot of the people with lots of offerings would bless devotees. I think that when they were in a trance they were supposed to be in more direct communication with a god and thus that much more holy. (By the way, this whole affair has truly exposed my ignorance of Hindu culture � it has been a long time since Religious Studies 205 and I should really brush up.) The still punked-out headdress bearers often spoke in tongues, yelped or grunted instead of using real words.
I watched one guy blessing a bunch of devotees and I remember one older woman getting blessed and she was just so genuinely moved. She started crying and it was somehow rather beautiful.
I was watching one guy get his dozens of oranges unhooked and he was giving them to onlookers. I got a big orange from this absolute beast of a man. He was enormous and never flinched for a second while getting unhooked. He would give out an orange, grunt loudly and wave off the recipient. He was also wielding an enormous club-like object which made the scene that much better. ‘You take orange! You leave now! AAAGRGH!’
A bunch of the dudes, when they got unhooked or unpierced, freaked out a bit (often the tongue or cheek piercings that did it). Some passed out. Some had fits. Some fell to the ground screaming and clawing at the floor.
After they were through with their fit, they took a while to settle down then they were back to normal and joking around with their friends.
Thousands of people were also buying offerings in plastic bags for the monkeys that live at the caves. All these bags were getting tossed to the critters who were climbing down from ridiculous heights to get them. These bags added to the litter everywhere. The base of the cliffs were especially filthy. And so much of it was styrofoam containers full of food scraps.
Toward the end of the day, I went over to the village where they do the piercings and watched some of them up close. They don’t bleed! I don’t know how it happens, but they don’t. Sometimes there was a tiny amount of blood when they got unhooked, but they quickly smeared ash on the hole and there was hardly a drop to be found.
I watched one of the headdress guys get hooked in and a guy carrying around 60-70 apples get his fruit on. I also saw one of the back-hook guys get one of his done. That was the most unsettling because those hooks were a lot bigger: about the size of a straw around plus they were considerably longer than the small fish hook-sized offering hooks. He had already started pulling at his ropes when his handlers saw that one hook had fallen out, so they held the guy down from his straining and hooked it back in. That was the only time I felt a little uneasy about the piercing stuff.
I saw a woman with hair that was more than 10 feet long. She was probably just over five feet tall and probably over 80 years old. The hair went down to her feet, then looped back up a couple feet, then went back down again. I don’t think it had been washed in decades. I think birds could have made a comfortable home in there. Like emus.
Really, I saw so much wacky weirdness I can’t really even process it. It was such a sensory overload.
I ended up staying until past 7 at night, so that was a really long day for me. Then I had a birthday thing to go to with some folks I met in Taman Negara, so I’m still pooped now. I’m also surprisingly stiff from the day’s continuous walking and my feet don’t like me much anymore.
As for photos, I took more than 1000. When I put them onto the computer this morning, the total was 1048. That’s easily a daily new record for me. I haven’t looked at them yet, but there better be at least one or two winners in there.
I genuinely can’t imagine many scenes that would surpass Thaipusam in terms of intensity and sensory overload. I’m so glad I scheduled my itinerary around it even though that has caused some roundabout routes for my trip. It was well worth an extra trip here. But if I’m ever lucky enough to catch it again, maybe I won’t spend 14 hours straight there and wind up feeling like I was among the revelers.
Sweaty McWetbody
How much sweat is a human being capable of producing in an hour? I really think I might have hit my maximum today and I wasn’t even hiking quickly.
With many of the travelling companions I accompanied yesterday already gone to KL, I had today mostly to myself and decided to head up to the highest hill in near Kuala Tahan. Knowing full well that the jungle’s humidity would soon have me exhausting the limited water supply I could carry, I slowed my pace down considerably. Apparently it wasn’t enough as I soon found every item of clothing I was wearing had grown darker with the sweat pouring from my pores.
By the time I had reached to top of a hill that really wasn’t immense by any standards, I had already consumed my litre-and-a-half bottle of water. I felt fine though – just wet. And the views from the top were well worth a dripping brow. A couple of different viewpoints had windows through the trees where the surrounding jungle and hills were visible making for a unique perspective on the park.
As for the wildlife I saw today, the bulk of it appeared before I had even reached the main trails. While strolling through the chalets on the way to the trailhead, a long-tailed macaque danced along the rooftops and stalked one of the housekeepers from a distance. When the housekeeper went inside and temporarily left her cart of supplies unprotected, the monkey jumped down and started rifling through the towels and plastic bags.
I have no idea what it was looking for and it didn’t seem too concerned with my approach. I was telling it that it probably wasn’t supposed to be there and waving it away, but apparently it didn’t speak English. As soon as the housekeeper saw the scene, she started shouting in Malay and shooed off the mischievous monkey.
On a weird side note to this minor episode, I was just looking at my photos of this monkey and noticed something I didn’t when I was watching him. It appears to have a length of electrical wire tied around its neck. I don’t know if perhaps it was trapped at some point but escaped or if it happens to have skills as an electrician, but that’s definitely something you don’t see on all the monkeys around here. Odd.
I then headed towards the Tahan Hide which is just off the main pathway through the chalets to check out the area we had visited last night in the dark. I was just curious to see the scene in the light of day. The path to this, the most accessible of the park’s hides, is a raised wooden walkway and while I was wandering to the hide, I noticed movement up ahead. I stopped and armed my long lens to see if I could figure out what was trotting under and beside the walkway.
From underneath the boards appeared a small wild boar. Blissfully unaware of my presence, it marched a set course that happened to take it directly beneath my feet. I could have spit on it if I wanted. But since that’s not really my thing, I let it pass. It was then unable to continue under the boards due to a felled tree blocking his path so it jumped up onto the log and spotted me not more than a couple metres away. Startled as could be it scurried off towards the chalets. I followed at a distance until it disappeared around a couple bends and possibly back into the woods.
It looks like paying the big money and staying in the fancy rooms on the other side of the river might be worth it to have all the animals sauntering around outside your door.
The jungle walk last night was good fun. Our guide from the Orang Asli tour earlier in the day, Aris, took four of us off into the darkened jungle.
We first visited the Tahan hide where a number of eyes peered back at us in the distance and the darkness. Those gleaming eyes belonged to a group of Sambar Deer who were drinking from the small pool in the middle of the clearing. Aris’s flashlight lit up the small deer so we could see them going about their business. They eventually wandered off into the surrounding jungle.
We did the same. The half moon lit our way as we ambled past the trees and untold night creatures. Along the way, we saw small scorpions, spiders, crickets, enormous, brightly coloured grasshoppers, and my favourite, walking sticks. If ever I am going to get a pet bug, I think a walking stick is the way to go. They have some of the cleverest camouflage in nature – even when looking directly at them, you can hardly differentiate between them and the surrounding twigs.
Other encounters included one of the girls, Katy, getting buzzed by a bat in the darkness. None of us saw it, but we’ll take her word for it.
Our last animal encounter of the evening came as we had re-entered the rows of chalets near the park entrance. We had just passed one of the many animal crossing signs on the grounds of the resort and this one happened to be a ‘Snake Crossing’ sign. Just as Jenny had finished inquiring about the truthfulness of the signs and convincing herself that they were just playful additions to the d’cor, we stopped in our tracks. Dead ahead on the path was a small snake coiled and looking a little bit angry.
Aris warned us to give it a wide berth and while he may have been playing up the danger for dramatic effect, the thing did seem genuinely interested in getting a nibble of Aris’s ankle as he passed. Taking no chances, the rest of our small group stepped through the plants to the side (where I’m sure plenty more snakes were hiding).
This little night adventure was, of course, a great time, but I think the light from the half moon made it a little less intimidating than the similar walk I took in Peru. There, the blackness and the huge life of the jungle was just out of reach and ready to swallow you whole whenever it pleased. Here in Taman Negara, the moonlight kept the trees slightly at bay and you didn’t feel the forest encroaching into your space quite so invasively. The sounds of the forest here were also not as varied as in the Amazon.
There, it seemed like every creature ever to walk, hop, slither, crawl or fly was represented by the surrounding buzz. Here, the orchestra had fewer instruments. Truly both were beautiful, but I think I liked the intricacies of Peru’s jungle music. But, perhaps nothing will ever surpass my first jungle experience only because it was my first.
Either way, I’ll gladly try to put myself in the position where I get to do it again because each time is so haunting.
Taman Negara
There it is again: the skin. The small, dark pellets of dying skin that balls up and sticks to your hand each time I wipe the sweat from my brow. Yup, I’m out of the mountains and now in the jungle.
But that’s no real worry since the jungle is a fine place to be. Close to the river’s edge and the town, the trails are well-worn and obvious so there’s no worry about getting lost for the amateur trekker, but if your cup of tea is a nine-day romp through thick underbrush, that’s a viable option (and surprisingly cheap too).
If I were feeling a bit more rugged and had more time, I would consider that option. As it is, more of Southeast Asia beckons. But possibly more importantly, I don’t feel like I have to prove my hardiness by subjecting myself to the jungle’s mysteries. While I’m sure I might come away with some wonderful photos, I think I may save such treks for when someone is actually paying me to go.
But even without entering deep into the jungle, there are plenty fun times to be had. On the bus over here from the Cameron Highlands, I met a good group of folks and we’ve banded together to make the wee journeys together. This morning, we ascended into the branches of the tall trees to walk along a lovely canopy swinging through the air. Much like the one I visited while in Ghana, this one was built out of metal ladders and wooden planks. The two members of our group with a fear of heights managed the trip successfully, but there was a bit of a worry that Katy wasn’t going to even make one step onto the suspended walkway when she came close to hyperventilating at its start.
Unlike the walkway in Ghana, this trip was not plagued by a monstrous tropical downpour. While the rain in Africa looked spectacular as it poured down and streaked past you to reach a forest floor hidden somewhere far below, I have to say I prefer taking my time in the nicer weather. Since there is so much wood surrounding me, I shall knock on some to hope that the drier climate prevails.
This afternoon’s trip was to another Orang Asli village. These people followed similar customs to the folks in the Cameron Highlands, but there were obvious differences. This village looked substantially less permanent than the one in the highlands. I suspect the conditions here are a bit more unfriendly – the jungle here seems more eager to consume the things of man than it does in the mountains. Also, I think there had been appropriation of more modern conveniences by the highlands’ people – t-shirts were present in both locations, but here, there seemed to be a smaller percentage of the village donning DKNY clothes.
We also learned a couple of tricks of theirs like how they start fires as well as the assembly of the blowpipe and darts. When I tried my hand at the blowpipe this time, I fared considerably better. I won’t be picking off monkeys in the trees anytime soon, but at least all my shots stuck in the target this time. Our joker of a guide intentionally misdirected my second shot when he exhorted me to aim higher than what would have been a straight and true shot. No bull’s eye for me.
I’m now killing a bit of time before I head off to do a night walk in the jungle. When I did the same sort of walk in Peru, I was overwhelmed by the sense of the life that’s surrounding you. It felt like the jungle could consume you at any point – that this mass of living breathing forest was very much allowing you to trod its soil and if it didn’t want you there, it could take you away. The constant sounds and mysterious noises from the dark are as intimidating as could be and even if we hadn’t seen any wildlife, it would have been very much worthwhile just to feel that force surrounding you.
I’m looking forward to what the world’s oldest rainforest has to whisper in the dark.
Chillin’ in the Cameron Highlands
In the Cameron Highlands, you’re never far from a hilltop. So it’s not so remarkable that I’m currently typing from the top of a wee hill here at Father’s Guest House. The cool breeze is still a refreshing change after the heat of the rest of Southeast Asia. The nights have even managed to force me into an extra layer of clothes.
I’m not constantly dripping in sweat and I don’t have to endlessly replenish fluids. When I scratch my neck, my fingernails don’t immediately return in a blackened state from the filthy skin desperately trying to escape my overheated body. That equatorial sun still can take a toll, but at least I don’t feel like I’m being baked in the process.
It’s almost like a pleasant spring day. Everyday. You could make cloud watching into a sport here. The wind sweeps puffy shapes through the air so rapidly you get rained on before you see the cloud that’s pelting you. But the rain is rarely anything to fret about – it too is brushed away by the wind in a few minutes.
I’ve spent the last few days wandering about the area both on my own and with a couple of tours in Land Rovers. My first full day here, I hopped on a bus and proceeded to wait for almost an hour before it went anywhere – I spent that time trying not to listen to an old man next to me babble on about who knows what to himself. And when I say babble, I mean practically shout. Of course, he was speaking some foreign language I didn’t recognize, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t saying anything coherent.
Once the bus had actually started moving, I found myself at the Kea Farms, a group of farms where just about anything that can be grown is indeed grown there. Vegetables, flowers, cacti, fruit, and any other plant you could fit in a car is on sale there in a series of nurseries to make any gardener envious. In addition to the plants, there is a honey bee farm and a butterfly garden. The bees were as friendly as bees get and buzzed around the nearby flowers. The butterflies were plentiful and docile which lead me to learn a valuable lesson.
The lesson is this: having your macro lens is more important than having clean underwear. I made the terrible error of leaving my macro lens in Kuala Lumpur. I’m really not sure what I was thinking there. I mean, the butterflies of the Cameron Highlands and the other creepy crawlies I’ve seen here beg for this lens! To say nothing of what I might see when I arrive in Taman Negara in just over a day. I truly failed myself there since my other lenses couldn’t really capture the images I could have with the macro. When in KL, I reasoned that I could fit a couple pairs of underwear into the space occupied by the lens. But really, if I had just worn my raincoat around my waist instead of cramming it into my tiny bag, all this wouldn’t have been an issue. Oh well.
After the butterfly farm and my irritation with my lack of foresight, I consoled myself with fresh strawberry juice at a farm where you can pick your own berries. I followed that up with a strawberry milkshake. Yum. They just take a huge scoop of strawberries fresh from the vines and blend them all up in front of you to delicious perfection. So good I was compelled to get another one the next day.
The late afternoons and evenings here have largely been occupied by the movies that are always being shown in the common area here at the guesthouse, so that’s been nice and relaxing. Yesterday I saw Crash (very good) and, for the first time since I lived in Japan, the tail end of Lost in Translation. After living there, the movie is that much better – they got so many good details in there.
A couple days ago, I was scheduled for a full-day tour of the area, but it turned into a half-day when the main road through the highlands was closed down for Malaysia’s answer to the Tour de France: the Tour de Langkawi. Cyclists were climbing the area’s mountains in what must be one of the more difficult legs of the race while locals congregated along the roadsides to cheer on the riders.
With my strawberry milkshake in hand, I watched the race with a couple of nice girls from England who have become good companions here in the highlands. All the while, we wondered why anyone would really go out of their way to come watch cycling unless they knew someone in the race.
It progressed like this: Wait for almost two hours. Watch the leader pass. Cheer. Wait for a couple minutes. Watch second and third place go past. Cheer. Wait five minutes. Watch a pack of riders pass. Cheer (and watch the locals cheer extra hard for the Malaysian riders). Wait some more. Repeat. Not much to it. Perhaps if body checking was allowed, or there were obstacles in the way, or, the truly Canadian solution: put the cyclists on ice, give them sticks and make the chase around a rubber disc. Bike hockey! It could be huge.
The morning that day was a little more entertaining. We started by taking in some nice views of the area’s tea plantations before visiting the tea factory. It was surprisingly more interesting than I had expected. Too bad much of the information I learned has already left my head so I won’t be able to sip tea and pompously prattle on about the tea making process in a British accent. Because I do accents so well…
The Land Rover then wound it’s way up the highest peak in the region where we took in the views from a lookout tower and tried not to get blown off the side of the mountain by the gusts.
A short way down the mountain, we stopped once more and our guides detailed the various potential uses of the area’s plants. I now know how to kill a person by using various poisons. My particular favourite is the one that will make a person have a heart attack six months after they have ingested the plant. Don’t cross me folks.
Our trek through the mossy forest was next. Pants covered in mud, we dodged the low branches and tripped over roots while searching for pitcher plants and other wewird and wonderful flora. The pitcher plant is one of the few carnivorous plants in the world. It has a small receptacle where water collects then is mixed into a sweet juice that attracts insects. The hapless creatures drop in, sip some of the nectar, get drunk and quickly find it hard to get out of the slippery petals.
I was supposed to be making a visit to a village of the Orang Asli (meaning ‘original people’) in the area in the afternoon but thanks to the area’s Lance Armstrongs, that wasn’t possible. So, I have decided to stay up here in the cool for an extra day.
This morning was that village visit. The Land Rover made good use of its suspension on the ride there and back on some of the bumpiest roads I have ever experienced. In fact, I can’t recall bouncing around in a car much more than here.
Before hitting the village, we checked out some local vegetable and flower farms where the relatively rare ‘dancing lady’ flowers were growing. They now have their dancing lady moniker after enough people snickered at their former epithet: ‘the golden shower.’
Once at the village, we first visited a nearby waterfall and checked out the poisonous spiders spinning huge webs across our path. At the village, we sampled the Orang Asli’s tea and tried their tapioca. This recharged us for when we learned how to use a blowpipe. I don’t know how long I would last as an Orang Asli hunter – I only tried a couple times, but my first shot was well off the mark. My second was straight and true, but failed to stick into the target. Had I been truly hunting, my prey would have gotten little more than a tickle before scurrying off. Good thing I’m a vegetarian.
We briefly wandered about the village where bamboo houses stand a meter or two off the ground to keep from flooding and rotting. Unfortunately, most of the children were off at school or hiding in some other place. The couple that did show their faces were cute as could be and got a big kick out of seeing their image on my digital camera. Maybe I’ll have better luck and get to interact with a few more people if I get to visit another such village in Taman Negara.
Now, here in the middle of the afternoon, I now have enough time to do some thorough relaxing up in the cool air. I’ll have to make the most of it before I head to the sea level heat.
Penang: Now With More Suck!
Lonely Planet calls Georgetown, the old-town heart of the island of Penang off the northwestern coast of peninsular Malaysia, ‘a fabulous city and a highlight of any itinerary.’ I don’t think they really visited this place.
If I were in the guidebook business and had to write an entry for Georgetown, it would probably go something like this: ‘This rat-infested hellhole is filled with the most unfriendly, unwelcoming, unhelpful people you may ever meet. But the garbage strewn through the streets has a stench that’s unbeatable!’
Yeah, Penang kinda sucks.
I will except Kek Lok Si temple from the above description. The hillside Buddhist temple is the largest in Malaysia and it is definitely worth a visit if you already happen to be stuck here. An enormous bronze Bodhisattva statue and a towering pagoda are a couple of the highlights here. Also, at dusk, for the Chinese New Year, the whole temple was illuminated by gaudy lights wired to every corner of every building. Remember Clark Griswald’s Christmas lights in ‘Christmas Vacation’? It was a lot like that except with a bigger area to set aglow.
One last highlight of the temple for me was the vegetarian restaurant at its base. Yum. I went for a late lunch and I had hoped to time it so that I could visit for dinner again, but I left it too long and they were closed upon my second arrival. How disappointing.
But that has been the least of my disappointments with this city. Here’s an example: As I was setting out for my trip to Penang Hill, I had to wait about an hour for a bus to arrive. During that time, I counted 12 rats. Big deal right? Well it is for me. Up until yesterday, I had only ever seen a couple rats in my life (that weren’t in cages) and one of those times was only a couple weeks ago in Kuala Lumpur.
You see, my home province of Alberta has a no-rat policy. That’s right, you can’t find a wild rat in Alberta. And I love the place for it. In fact, you never hear an Albertan say, ‘Boy I wish I had seen a rat in streets today.’ It just doesn’t happen.
So, having only seen a couple of them in my lifetime, I have not yet been desensitized to their pestilent shapes slinking through city streets. A dozen of the disgusting vermin was a bit much of an introduction for me.
Perhaps, however, it was the rotting meat smeared across the pavement that was drawing them to the area of the bus stop. Ah, fetid mystery meat. Is there any nose that doesn’t love your stink? Well, yes as a matter of fact there is: mine. Too bad there’s not much escaping it here.
Okay that’s all fine and good. I can deal with some dirt, some pests and perhaps the odd bit of expired food. These are experiences one has to occasionally accept while travelling.
What gets me here are the people. With the exception of a couple of people, most notably the happy and helpful dude at the hostel next door to mine, everyone here is a dick. Flash someone a smile and it returns to you as a grimace. Walk past someone in the street and they will either stare right through you or glare unwaveringly in your direction like they want to start a fight with you (and a couple days ago, nothing would have given me more satisfaction than to beat one of these rude bastards to a pulp).
Say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ and you will be ignored – forget about hearing it back. This spirit of brotherly malevolence even extends to the kids. In just about every city I have visited, a wave or a smile to a passing kid yields some kind of smile or wave in response, perhaps a ‘hello’ or, if they are shy, a cute withdrawal to a parent’s protective arms. Nope, not here. Instead, they look back at you with eyes that say, ‘Why the hell are you here? You’re not wanted.’
Direct conversation with the locals is pointless. After a whole day of dealing with the rudeness ubiquitous in this city, I went to try to find some dinner. I landed at some Mexican place where I sat down and a couple minutes later had the chef come out and literally shout at me, ‘What do you want?’ Well, a menu would have been a good start, but apparently that was too much to ask. I went and got one for myself. I glanced it over and asked if I could get a vegetable fajita. I got yelled at again, ‘No vegetable! Only beef!’ It was like the soup nazi had started a Mexican joint in Penang. Sick of this wretch, I tossed down the menu and left without uttering the words I wanted to.
I don’t know, this really doesn’t sound so bad when I look at what I’ve written, but I think I might not be conveying just how rude every person’s gesture was towards me. It was relentless and by the end of the day, I had to restrain myself when some pimp muttered something at me as I passed by. I ignored him as I hadn’t even understood what he said. Then he made it more clear, ‘Pussy pussy?’
I stopped in my tracks and turned back to him and I genuinely felt like getting violent with him. Straw that broke the camel’s back I suppose – my sense of humour about the whole day was finished.
Rather than berate him with the invective I wanted to about how he should probably consider getting a real job instead of sexually exploiting some young girl, I gave him my best stinkeye and moved on. I doubt I’ll be changing the course of this guy’s life through heated debate, so I chose not to fight that battle.
Probably just one of those days. Soaring heat and incessant impropriety got me down and I had had enough. I’m now trying to roll with the punches. It should be easier since I’m leaving here tomorrow. I’m finding myself a bit more able to laugh of the overtly rude talk of people who should be helpful, by just dismissing it with a simple, ‘Bloody’ Penang…’ and carrying on.
Quite the place.
Angkor Notes Continued
I’m sitting in the Siem Reap airport feeling exhausted after my week of adventuring in the temples of Angkor. I cannot possibly hope to chronicle each of my many experiences here, so I’ll resort, once again, to the point form highlight/random thought list.
– At the top of the list would have to be my trip to Bakong temple in the Roluos group South East of Siem Reap. Starting early, I go there just as the light was starting to reveal the site. But, the temple itself wasn’t the highlight.
The first highlight was the kids at the school just outside the temple. At first they were shy, but then they realized I could be a source of amusement for them. When I took photos of a couple of them, they all crowded in to try to get in front of my lens. They were always happy to point out their own images on my little view screen once I showed them the photos I had taken. I think, also, they were content just to get away from their sweeping and cleaning duties for a moment before they had to sit through class for the rest of the day.
I wandered the temple for a little while watching some local kids shake nuts from a tree then headed back towards the entrance when I saw the kids were in recess. I thought I might go pester them again. Instead, as I glanced at the monastery to the North of the entrance, I saw an orange-clad monk practically posing in the doorway.
When I excitedly approached with camera in hand, he didn’t move from his perfect spot and let me take the photo. I was then invited to go inside the pagoda. An older monk and a former monk guided me inside. The former monk spoke good English and served as my guide.
As I was looking around the pagoda, I must have mentioned that I had been an English teacher in Japan last year because I was promptly ushered into the classroom where and English lesson was just finishing up. After talking with a few of the students, I ended up in front of the blackboard (or in this case, blue board) where we practiced pronunciation together – something I think a lot of folks in Cambodia could use (I’ll probably never know why they don’t pronounce the ‘ch’ at the end of lunch).
After class, I was free to roam the grounds of the monastery and snap some photos along the way.
When finished, I had taken some of my favourite photos of the trip so far and possibly one of my favourite photos I have ever taken. I look forward to sharing them with you.
– Other more bite-sized memories: I talked with a bunch of different monks at Angkor Wat and yesterday, I was invited into the room of one monk at a pagoda in Siem Reap. They offered me lunch, but they needed it a lot more than I did. Monk life doesn’t sound especially easy. And one of them was telling me that the corruption that runs rampant through Cambodian society even pervades the monasteries. I couldn’t quite figure out how it manifested itself there as the language barrier got in the way, but it was disconcerting to hear that no place seems to be immune to corruption in this country.
– A couple days ago, I visited Beng Mealea, an 80km ride from Siem Reap. This temple has been overrun by the surrounding forest. It makes Ta Prohm look like a well-manicured garden. You might as well don a fedora and a bullwhip out there while a John Williams score plays in the background – Indiana Jones would have had a good time here.
Climbing around fallen towers and gazing at the vines chocking the stones was fantastic. The tourist buses tend not to come out this far (yet), so, for much of the time, I had the place to myself. If I could insert a written version of the Indiana Jones theme song, I would do it here. Just imagine it okay?
The only drawback to going to Beng Mealea for me was that I had to haggle like a pro with my driver to get a fair price out there. It took me more than 25 minutes and the infamous walking-away-because-you haven’t-met-my-final-price move before he agreed to my price. Ugh.
I hate bargaining, but I think he had been getting more than he fair share the whole week, so I decided to put my foot down this time. I know bargaining is supposed to be a cultural glue – it bonds people by forcing them into communication – but I ended up irritated by the whole affair and I think my driver was pissed that he didn’t get more cash off me. I don’t think any bonds were strengthened there.
– A few days ago, I had a free afternoon, so I decided to go out to the lake South of town to see the floating village there. After bobbing over some terrible roads, it was nice to bob in the water as my boat driver took us out to the largest lake in Cambodia.
Along the way, the river is lined with the floating houses of a group of villagers who make their homes here. Floating hospitals, shops, karaoke bars, billiard halls, schools, and my personal favourite, a floating basketball court, all peacefully sat along the river.
I was treated to a gorgeous sunset as we entered the lake. I was able to watch it from a floating museum/restaurant where kids would paddle up to its sides in boats or large buckets to pose and joke around for the camera for money. I guess when you live on a lake and have little but a big bucket and a paddle, you have to do what you have to do.
– Landmines are the most ridiculously shortsighted weapon ever devised. So you’re in a battle and you want to blow up some people and you plant some mines. Well, if you happen to win that battle, you still lose because now the territory you’ve won is a death trap. That’s thinkin’.
– For those out there in the world thinking of making the trip to Angkor, I would do it sooner than later. The tourist industry is just going to pick up here. It’s one of the few things Cambodia has had going for it for some time, so I suspect that the government is going to keep pushing it to generate as much revenue as it can. That means temples will be choked with tourists and roads clogged with buses. As rewarding as the temples are even with the current tourist presence, they would have been just about perfect without the throngs to dodge. So get going. Now!
Notes from Cambodia
My daily schedule here in Siem Reap, Cambodia doesn’t allow me much, if any time for keeping up to date with my journal. I’m up early then off to the temples right away. I get home after sunset and have to spend most of the time before bed trying (and failing) not to get too far behind on emails, finding food, transferring photos to my computer and scrubbing the dust from my every pore in the cold shower.
So, in an effort to keep things moving here, I’ve decided to do some bullet-point journaling. Just some things that stood out in the last few days and I had time to note before I have to go to sleep.
– One of the highlights, strangely enough for me, is a moment for which I have no photos. Two days ago, I met and started talking with a couple of young Buddhist monks. After chatting for a while, I did end up taking some photos of them. But, the best part was, they invited me to go visit them at their pagoda the following day. When I arrived there, we continued our conversations from the previous day and I was also invited into one of their rooms. It just felt so special to be able to be invited into the room of a monk in Cambodia. I don’t know too many folks with that experience under their belt.
– Angkor Wat really is worth the trip to Cambodia. It’s a phenomenal place. I’ve been on all three days now. Once for sunrise and twice for sunset. Each time has been wonderful. Today, I met a couple more monks and chatted with them for a while. The monks here I’ve talked to have been about the friendliest people you could ever hope to meet. I guess that’s to be expected really. After all, they’re enlightened. I exchanged addresses with one of them so that I could send them a print of one of the photos I took. He also asked for my phone number and I could only give them my parents’ number due to my present homelessness. I explained that I wouldn’t be home for a long time, but he really wanted it. So, mom and dad, if you get a call from a guy with a thick Cambodian accent saying he met me at Angkor Wat, you know the story. Just chat with him a while so he can practice his English okay?
– Visiting a temple called Preah Khan this morning, I had the chance to explore the virtually deserted place for a couple of hours while the sun slowly crept up over the trees. This was what I was hoping for here in Angkor. The birds and bugs rang through the surrounding forest and the stones emanated echoes of that ubiquitous life. Certain places felt haunted. In others, I felt like I was Indiana Jones and the next bend would reveal some long-lost treasure.
– The above was possible because the busloads of tourists had not yet arrived. Now, I love a lot of Japanese individuals, but put them in a group and their collective number is overwhelming. Paths are chocked with people. Silence is shattered. The sense of adventure is lost. When you’re surrounded by middle aged Japanese people, it’s hard to feel like an explorer. I’m no more entitled to be here than any of the individuals in their groups, but I’d like to think that my presence here doesn’t substantially affect the experiences of others in a negative way. One friend of mine called Siem Reap ‘Cambodia Disneyland.’ Just so long as they don’t install any roller coasters soon.
– Siem Reap is the dust capitol of the world. I have never been so filthy in my life.
– Pol Pot was a horrible, horrible person.
– My driver really likes my money and drives a hard bargain. I hope with all the cash he’s taking from me, he buys a helmet for his future passengers on his motorbike. I guess not having a helmet on makes my scooter high fives a bit more feasible though. You need to be able to have good eye contact with the high five recipient before you can really deliver, otherwise, some unsuspecting foreign tuk-tuk passenger would probably get pretty shocked by some hand extending in their direction as a scooter passes them.
Is This Thing On?
I’m alive and well in Cambodia, but one thing that means is that I won’t be updating my blog for a while. The connections here aren’t exactly lightning fast and I’m probably more likely to find a polar bear here than wireless access.Besides, is anyone reading this thing anyway (besides my mom).
So i will keep writing on my trusty laptop and update my journal en masse probably when I get back to Malaysia.
Later!
Bye Bye to Taiwan
Back in another airport. I think waiting for flights is going to be come my de facto journaling time. This time I’m waiting for my flight to Kuala Lumpur where I will make a triumphant return with lungs free of unwanted liquid.
Yesterday, I got in a few last sights in Taipei before I had to head back to the hostel for an early night. I started off by getting lost on the way to the Hsahai City God Temple. I eventually got some help and found the tiny place that wasn’t really much to look at, but they did have a lot of good information there about the customs enacted by each temple goer.
The temple was right in the midst of the Dihua street market where candies galore were being peddled to throngs of shoppers. Enough free samples were being handed out that you could probably wander the market a couple times and you’d end up with a free meal. A free meal with a lot of sugar in it, but a free meal nonetheless. The place was packed full of people and I couldn’t help wondering why all these people weren’t at work on a Monday morning.
After the market, I went to check out the Grand Hotel. This impressive structure is a huge building in a traditional Chinese design. Up on a hill, it overlooks the hazy city and must have some fantastic views on clear days from its upper floors. A little out of my price range though.
Last, I stopped at the Xingtian temple. You’d think I’d be sick of temples by now, but they don’t seem to get old to me. Each has something new to offer and there is always some new photographic challenge to try to overcome, so it’s always a pleasure. Here, old women in blue robes wandered the grounds and tended to the visitors. These helpful smurfs were often found reading texts or blessing the patrons of the temple.
I trudged back to my hostel and prepared myself to leave this fine country. I wish I had more time here – there are plenty more sights I would have liked to explore. The biggest downside of this island is the cost. It’s not as bad as Japan, but some of the prices are going to look like a king’s ransom once I get to Southeast Asia.
But, the positives outweighed the negatives. I think the biggest upside to Taiwan is its people. My experiences with them were always fantastic. They were always friendly and even when the language barrier got in the way, they were willing to help in any way they could. I can only hope to meet such gracious people as I continue on my trip.
Taipei Highlights
A bunch of highlights from the last couple days in Taipei:
I played with a group of Taiwanese school children at the Confucius Temple and probably spectacularly disrupted the field trip. But the teachers seemed to like trying out their English on me as much as the kids. They made me miss my kids in Japan so bad. I also got to visit the Baoan Temple right next door. I was looking for some god to pray to that would heal my aching back, but instead prayed to the altar of ibuprofen.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent most of my time at the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall and the surrounding plaza where I got to see the changing of the guard. What a strange, anachronistic display. More fun, I think was the people watching outside in the plaza.
The highlight of the day was the night market and snake alley. I’ve been to a few markets in Asia now, but so far, this one takes the cake for volume and variety of ridiculous nonsense. Of course, the cheap garbage products were there. And the weird animal parts being sold for consumption. But, where this one stood out was the live animals.
They call it snake alley for a reason. Snake handlers put on mini shows with cobras and whatever reptiles they happen to have in their cages that night. Often the shows will culminate in the snake being killed and drained of its blood so that passers by can buy a drink. Other valuable parts are extracted and everyone except the snake seems pretty happy about the whole affair.
I didn’t stick around to watch the skinning of any of the snakes nor did I bother to watch a guinea pig get fed to a snake that was about the size of a boa constrictor but yellow in colour. The snake’s handler was just bringing out the ill-fated rodent and I couldn’t bring myself to watch. I walked past again later and it looked like that same guinea pig was still alive, so the whole thing may have just been for show.
Worst, however, were the turtles. These poor things had been laid out in a row and were gradually dying under a lamp while they slowly, but desperately flailed their tiny flippers in the vain hope of turning over. Occasionally, the owner of the shop would come by with a spray bottle and spritz the helpless amphibians keeping them hydrated enough to prolong their doom. Thanks for reinforcing my vegetarianism Ms. Turtle Torturer!
I had the fortune of spending my time in the market with a nice couple from Canada. The market was a good place to have some company. And one of them has been living here in Taipei for four months, so he knew his way around.
Today, I took a trip back to Longshan to take some photos of the hustle and bustle during the day. I happened to nitice a photographer there had the National Geographic logo on his camera. I said hi then proceeded to shadow him briefly just to see how he approached subjects. What I liked was how he just walked up to people and started shooting. It’s his job, after all. That prompted me to get over that somewhat lingering fear of just walking up and photographing a stranger. It’s actually pretty easy. I have moments where it doesn’t seem like any problem to just snap away, but this guy just proved how it easy it was to just get right in there and start shooting.
I then hopped on the train and headed to Taipei 101, currently the world’s tallest building. The high ‘end mall below it didn’t have much to offer me so I headed across the street and happened to find a little tradeshow for canine products. Fortunately, this was food for dogs, not food made of dogs. And plenty of dogs were there, having a merry time sniffing whatever they could.
As the sun started to disappear behind the clouds and the horizon, I headed up to the observation deck of Taipei 101. It’s a pretty incredible building. The views from the top are probably better saved for a day when there is less haze, but it was still quite a view from the top. The outdoor observatory was somehow eerie – hearing only the wind while in the middle of this metropolis left me feeling strangely alone. So I went and checked out the wax figures on loan from Madame Tussaud’s of Hong Kong. Nothing like getting up close to a David Beckham replica to comfort you.
Oh, and one last highlight. A store at the base of Taipei 101 had chocolate-covered almonds from Japan! Yay for the best thing ever!
Sun Moon Lake to Taipei
Back to the hustle and bustle of Taipei. I was reintroduced to the congestion of this place by having my 3.5 hour bus ride turn into a 5 hour ride because of the traffic coming into Taipei. But, the screens on the bus were showing King Kong, so that kept me interested. Sure, it had no sound and I had to get off the bus at the climactic Empire State Building scene, but it looked like a fun film.
Instead of braving another bike seat yesterday, I decided to head to Sun Moon Lake and do some walking in the area. It’s the highest and largest lake in Taiwan and the guidebooks rank it high among things to see here.
The azure waters didn’t disappoint. A light haze gave depth to the distant mountains while the noon-hour sun sparkled in the water. That same noon-hour sun beat down upon my hatless head and now I can feel its heat trying to escape back out through my short hair.
I wandered the small town by the lake and found a vegetarian restaurant where the owner spoke Spanish and Chinese, but no English. Too bad I hardly remember any Spanish. So, we fumbled through things and I think I eventually communicated that whatever she made would be fine as long as it was vegetarian. She came back with a nice bowl of rice in a broth with veggies and tofu and I was happy as a clam.
With my belly contentedly full, I hiked around part of the lake to Wenwu temple. Set up on a hill, this spot has a great view of the lake and is a nice example of some of the Chinese temple architecture. It’s also interesting because it blends styles from Buddhist, Taoist and Confucian temples. Not that I’m an expert on the subject, but that’s what the brochure told me.
I hustled back down the hill to the town so that I could catch an afternoon bus and not arrive in Taipei too late, but the traffic prevented my speedy return. I am, however, happy to be back in a place for a few days where I won’t have to seek out a new place to stay each night. Now, to figure out what to do with myself today!
What’s Chinese for ‘Sore Ass’?
You never forget how to ride a bike. But, you may forget that, after a long bike-riding hiatus, a whole day of riding is going to take its toll on your ass.
My sore butt is the result of a day of cycling around the town of Ershui here in Taiwan. Thought I’m not, by any means, in capable of sitting down, I’m currently considering skipping a second day of cycling in the nearby town of Jiji. Getting back on a bike seat, makes my bum unhappy. I’m not sure what I might do as an alternative, but I was scheduled to go back to Taipei later in the day, so I might head that way a little earlier than planned.
Despite a sore behind, the day was a good one. Without any problems, I made my way to Ershui from Changhua. As I exited the station, I had the good fortune to cross paths with the owner of a bike rental shop recommended by the good folks at Lonely Planet. They suggested that the place may not be open and they were correct, but as I was checking out the store, she walked past and said hello. At which point, I jumped on the chance to ask about renting a bike somewhere in town. She said she was the owner of the shop and could rent me one even though they were closed.
And with that, I peddled off and reveled in the joy of once again peddling through rural Asia. I had so many good days of wandering on two wheels through the countryside surrounding Ichinoseki in Japan that I was thrilled to be gliding along similar roads. A pagoda here, a temple there and I was having a great time. The most obvious difference between these roads near Ershui and the Iwate landscape is the vegetation. Tawiwan is much more lush than that northern Japanese prefecture and I’m pretty sure the palm trees here wouldn’t last a single winter in Ichinoseki.
I managed to get myself lost more than once and often found myself trying to ascend hills that my wee bike and my out-of-shape legs couldn’t quite handle. That just meant more for me to explore.
I stopped for a quick bite of roadside noodles and when I insisted that I didn’t want any meat with my meal, the woman serving me looked at me like I was insane. At least she understood. In Japan, she might have just thrown some pork on top of my meal anyway. Here, no pig products went to waste and I devoured my first real meal of the day midway through the afternoon.
After my lunch, I headed up to visit a monkey preservation area. Signs warned not to feed the monkeys, but there was one man in particular who had come to the area explicitly for the purpose of feeding them. He had driven his scooter up into the forest and endlessly pulled fruits and vegetables out from the scooter’s hold to feed the greedy primates. They were veritable pets to this old man and they vocally jockeyed for prime fruit picking position.
After watching the macaques frolic, fight and f… um, copulate, I headed back into town to return my bike. I then boarded the Jiji Small Rail line and headed over to Shuili to spend the night. The hotels here were cheaper than at Jiji, so I’ve decided to stay here even though Jiji is the location of another bike path that may be calling my name. But, like I’ve said, my butt may not be up for the challenge. So, who knows what tomorrow will bring.
You Can’t Get There From Here
When the guidebook tells you that the bus station is five blocks south and one block east, sometimes, that means, four blocks south. Yes, there may be a bus station at that first location, but not one with a bus that goes to your destination. But fret not, with a little help from the locals and a lot of hand gestures, you’ll get there.
But when the guidebook tells you there are buses running from Changhua to the Taiwan Folk Village, it lies.
I suspect I’ll never know the reason why, but apparently buses no longer run to the Folk Village. When I inquired at the bus station about the trip, I was initially just waived off with only a terse Chinese explanation to guide me. I persisted with some other members of the station staff and eventually figured out that no, you can’t get there from here.
The staff teamed up and helpfully suggested that I go to visit the giant Buddha that sits on a hill overlooking the city as an alternative to my planned day. I was ushered onto a bus and off I went to visit Baguashan.
A network of paths criss cross the hill leading to various points of interest, the most notable of which is, of course, the 22 metre tall Buddha statue. I spent most of the morning wandering the area and taking photos. Other sights on the hill included a temple behind the Buddha, the Nine Dragons Pond and pavilion, and the Silver Bridge. A good place for anyone looking for a picnic spot in Changhua.
I also managed to venture into a couple of temples in the city before heading back up to the hill in the evening to catch the Buddha in a different light.
And now, I’m resting in my hotel room that, yes, cost more than the guidebook suggested. But, despite the guidebooks misinformation, I managed to have a fun day. By the way, I can’t fault – I can’t even imagine the amount of effort that would go into putting together a guidebook for an entire country. And keeping it up to date is near impossible. As soon as one establishment changes a price, you need a new edition. Though, I would very much have liked to have gone to the Folk Village.
Lukang and Lung Disease
Okay, so the bus wasn’t so bad. I had my own little green vinyl-covered EZ chair as a seat on the bus and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind lulled me to sleep on the screen at the front of the bus. It didn’t even take as long as I had expected.
Lugang is just as the guidebook described: 90 per cent of it is relatively unremarkable, but the other 10 per cent is lovely.
After checking into my hotel, I started exploring that other 10 per cent. I started with the Old Market Street – a narrow, winding lane where artisans, craftspeople and antique dealers crowd their shops into any available space. Along the way, I chatted (as best as two people with no common language can chat) with a local artist whose specialty was drawing and painting on traditional folding fans. As far as I understood him, people would come in with a photograph and they would commission him to draw a custom design on a fan with the photo as inspiration.
He then fed me some, well, mush. It was a powder that he put into a little paper cup with warm water and it all turned into a runny paste. I tried a couple different kinds, one of which was nice enough. The other had me washing it down with water as soon as decorum allowed. Each of the tastes defied description (by me, at least – I have both a ignorant palate and a narrow vocabulary for tastes).
After the Old Market Street, I wandered to the Nine Turns Lane, another narrow, winding alleyway running through the centre of the old town. This twisting path was formerly used as a defense system, but now seems to only serve as an inconvenient alleyway. I watched a vendor attempt to navigate his cart through the bends only to scrape its top along the walls beside him.
Next, I unwittingly stumbled on the Folk Arts Museum. Housed in a huge mansion, the collection of the museum was interesting enough on its own, but didn’t fare as well when compared to my previous day’s visit to the Royal Palace Museum. I guess I’ve been spoiled by all the emperor’s jade.
My next destination was Lungshan Temple, but my aim was not true. I think I managed to run more than one circle before finding another ornate temple and I stopped there, thinking perhaps that I had found my target. Upon further review, I’m now sure I missed Lungshan temple completely and mistook this smaller temple for the larger one I was seeking. I’m pretty sure I must have passed within metres of Lungshan’s entrance, but somehow missed the mark. However, the keepers of the temple I did find were nice enough to switch on some extra lighting for me as photographed the golden carvings lining every inch of the walls.
Feet throbbing and stomach rumbling, I headed back to a place where I had been greeted earlier in English. The restaurant turned out to be a burrito place run by a Taiwanese man who had lived most of his life in Texas. The affable gent was ever so pleased to offer me an extra large vegetarian burrito and I was even more pleased to eat it. Finding vegetarian fare in Taiwan is proving to be possibly even more challenging than in Japan. At least in Japan, I had a hope of making myself understood in Japanese that I didn’t eat meat. Here, I can’t even find the phrases in the guidebook.
Last stop for the day was Matsu temple. A lot more Spartan than the temple I had previously visited, the Matsu temple still made for a good wander in the evening.
But with my feet already preparing to explode, I ambled the block back to my hotel where I’m now willing my feet to skip the blister stage and go straight to callous. I mean, I’m only a couple days into my trip and already my feet want to fall off? I’m hoping that’s not a trend that keeps up or four months from now, I’ll but crawling on my hands dragging stumps behind me where legs should be.
Though, in Taiwan, I suspect, someone would loan me a wheelchair if that were the case. The people here have been genuinely friendly for the most part. And if they’re not friendly, they’re not rude – they just tend not to notice you. Well, there is the guy next door right now with a serious phlegm problem who’s attempting to shatter a record for loudest hack possible. But I don’t know if that’s really rude here. Just seems to be par for the course in some parts of Asia. This guy has nothing on the folks in Hong Kong though. Those guys can cough up a loogie like the stuff was valuable. Hooray for rampant overpopulation resulting in ever-present contagion of respiratory illness!
I just hope he’s going to cough himself to sleep soon.
A Pause Before Lukang
7:45 am
I’d rather be waiting for a train than a bus. Trains have an elegance to them I have learned to appreciate since in Japan.
Maybe it was just the fault of the bullet train there. Those were things of beauty. So much so that my sister, when she arrived in Tokyo, became completely obsessed with these technological marvels to the point we had to return to a particular toy store to buy the rest of their bullet train paraphernalia after we had only bought half of it on the previous visit.
Cute mascots aside, the shinkansen was indeed the way to travel in Japan. Gliding just over the ground at 300 kilometres per hour can’t be beaten.
Certainly not by the folks here at Ubus, Taiwan. Fine folks though they may be, I am not expecting the quality ride of a bullet train on my eventual departure for Lukang this morning.
I could have taken a train and I probably should have. But, when talking to the manager of the hostel at which I stayed last night, she suggested taking the bus. Cheaper and faster were the selling points. And considering that I’ve incurred some unexpected costs in the last couple of days, the cheaper part sounded especially attractive.
But it turns out I would only be saving a couple dollars and maybe a half hour of time. The problem is this two hour wait I have before boarding. Who knows how frequently the trains run. What I should have done was check the price and time here at the bus station and when I found out about the two hour wait, I could have easily headed over to the train station to check their prices and times. Alas, 20/20 hindsight, but hopefully a lesson learned and on the way back, hopefully, I will be more awake to take advantage of what should have been a little common sense.
Speaking of common sense, I truly that picking up all of your belongings is just one of those things you happen to do when getting up to board a train. Me, not so much. And yesterday, I finally bid farewell to my tripod.
That little camera stand is now in the hands of someone else. And really, I think it would be happier there. It has always been trying to escape me by camouflaging itself into the ground when I go to pick it up when picking up my things. The thing was just waiting for this day when I would leave it behind long enough for someone else to come along. I thought I had treated it well, but apparently it was disgruntled.
No, yesterday, it happened to blend in with a train platform on the Taiwan metro. When I went to board the train, there it lay, stealthily dodging my gaze. I boarded the train, sat down then realized something was missing. I darted off the car before the doors closed, but in one of my more idiotic moments simply assumed that I must have left the tripod back at the hostel. I didn’t even think to look at the bench where I had just been sitting. But, I suspect that even if I had, that wily former tripod of mine would have scurried behind a bench leg and out of my view. That thing really didn’t like me. I know it.
So, instead of my planned itinerary of fun and photos for the evening, I got to go on a shopping trip. It didn’t last long. After wandering to the area where I was likely to find a camera shop, I soon spotted a Leica logo and followed it into a small used store where a tripod almost identical to my old one awaited me. Easy! And the shopkeeper’s wife told me I was handsome too. Mind you, she was in her sixties and probably not my type, but still…
Damn it. As I have been writing this, a bus has boarded for Chanhua, a city very close to Lukang. It’s boarding an hour and a half before my bus. And they didn’t give ma an option to get on that bus at the counter! Grr. I know I have to be a patient person to be a traveller, but I think Japan’s unfailing adherence to schedules has spoiled me. Oh well. With my laptop here, I can use the time productively.
Since I have the time here, I might as well chronicle the rest of yesterday’s fun. Aside from the tripod incident, it was a great day. My first stop was the National Palace Museum where millennia of Asian art makes its home. I think my favourite would have been some of the jade carvings – there was one plate in particular that caught my eye. It wasn’t the most practical of dinnerware, but then again, who eats off jade? It was full of hundreds of holes that surrounded a slithering dragon. Actually, It might have made a good sieve.
After the museum, I wandered over to the Shilin gardens. They used to be a part of the grounds for the estate of a dictator. Well, apparently, this particular dictator had a lot of fun exploiting his citizens because his gardens were pretty nice. Nice enough for at least a dozen pairs newlyweds to be taking their wedding photos there. Around every corner there was a new bride and groom with a photographer ordering them around. I found it odd that all this was happening on a Monday, but I’ll just chalk it up to being an ignorant foreigner or something.
Next was my fun with the tripod. But after securing my new three-legged friend (who will never, ever be leaving my side, by the way), I headed over in the direction of Longshan temple. Even during the evening, the place was buzzing with the activity of worshippers. I wandered about and tested the new tripod, all the while thinking that I’ll have to go back during the day to see if some of the people there will consent to a photo or two. The darkness didn’t make for the best portrait lighting, so I think I’ll have to return when it’s light out.
Cross your fingers that my bus has a speedy passage to Lukang and I can have a good time taking some photos or the old city there.
Sophomore Mistake
10:40 am
Okay, so those earlier mistakes of mine were nothing. Nothing compared to the $70 mistake I made when I left my ticket to Taipei somewhere in Calgary.
Now, it’s not as dumb as it sounds. I had changed my ticket to Taipei for a later date and was then issued an itinerary via email. With that itinerary printed out and in hand, I approached the China Airlines counter. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until my ticket agent ran off with my booking number.
She retrieved her manager who then proceeded to ask me if I had my ticket. I told her I only had the itinerary delivered via email. What I didn’t realize was that since the original ticket was issued as a paper ticket, I was still, apparently, travelling on a paper ticket. A paper ticket that was now somewhere in the trash in Calgary.
She the informed me that I would need to buy another ticket. And then I shot laser beams from my eyes that obliterated half of the airport. Or, at least, I wanted to. Instead, I desperately asked if there was some other way I would be able to get on this flight without buying another ticket. She wracked her brains and told me that I could say that I had lost my ticket, pay $70 and then be allowed to board the plane.
I begrudgingly accepted the offer and watched some wee Asian girl dressed in purple hustle off around a corner with my itinerary, my Visa card and my passport (in other words, my life lines). I nervously waited for her return. When she came back, I happily signed away some cash that I had not budgeted for this use and got my boarding pass.
So yes, I am still going to Taiwan. But just barely.
All of this drove out of my mind that, just before this incident, I had ordered a couple of veggie burgers from Burger King only to have them delivered to me with no patties. Is this just how they do it there now? If this morning is any indication of how this trip is going to proceed, I should get ready for a lot of surprises, big and small.
Rookie Mistakes
8:00 am
I haven’t even left the country and, on this trip, I’m already two mistakes old. Neither of them were especially serious, but easily avoided.
First, I had a sudden rush of panic when I realized I had enterer the Calgary airport still wearing my winter coat. Ordinarily, donning a winter coat in the Calgary airport in January isn’t such a big deal, but when you’re embarking on a trip to Southeast Asia and you have very limited packing space, a winter coat is not a wise choice of clothing. I’m sure, once I got to, say Thailand, I could claim it was a fashion statement, but in 40 degree weather, that’s not a statement anyone wants to hear.
So, I quick rush to the payphone to call my chauffeur, (a.k.a. dad), and I was sorted. My only comment to him as returned was, ‘Well, I hope that’s the last mistake I make for a while.’
If what I meant by ‘a while’ was a half hour, then I was right on the money.
I made the rookie travel mistake of carrying a pair of fold-up scissors in my carry-on. It was confiscated of course, but what amazed me about the whole affair is how many flights I must have taken with those very same scissors in the exact same location without having them noticed by security. Go figure.
This will be my last report from Canada as I now sit in the Vancouver airport waiting for the ticket booth to open for my next flight. Next stop, Taiwan.
Up and Away
As of Saturday, January 7th, 2006, you can officially consider me a nomad, or, if you prefer, a hobo. Your choice really. I’m setting off for Asia once again and I don’t exactly know when I’ll be back home in Calgary. In fact, I’m not even positive when I will once again have a proper home.
I plan to seek some modicum of stability once I reach New Zealand, but I might just get too excited to explore the country and quickly rush off into a nearby mountain range (until the money runs out of course).
In the meantime, I will be doing my best to update this blog and, if possible, provide the occasional addition to the photo gallery. At the same time, I suspect I’ll be more excited about seeing sights than blogging, but my new year’s resolution is to stay in better touch with people, so I shall try to set aside some time for updates.
And if any photo buyers happen to be interested in my images while I’m away, I will redirect you to my images at Alamy.com. This agency happens to have the best selection of my images, so if you’re in a big rush and can’t wait for me to find a good internet connection in the jungles of Southeast Asia, try Alamy and they will help you out.
My next update will be from somewhere on the other side of the Pacific Ocean, so until then, take care. Next stop, Taiwan!
Roads Not Taken
Although travel writing is a field in which I am eager to participate, something has always prevented me from getting excited about reading a lot of travel writing. I love travel. I love reading. For me, the two should combine as amicably as chocolate and peanut butter. But, I often find myself less inspired than I had hoped when I have finished reading a travel article.
Roads Not Taken, a 2001 article by Thomas Swick suggests a few reasons why this might be the case. While the article itself is old, it’s a good analysis of the craft of travel writing.
Upcoming Plans
It’s Wednesday morning. I’m wearing my pajamas and listening to the Constantines. Yesterday, the weather hit a record high temperature for that November date. Today, the Chinook bringing that warm air will still be hovering over the city. Orange juice and a muffin are happily digesting in my warm belly. Home is an okay place to be.
But, such simple pleasures are soon to be usurped by a wholly different set of pleasures. Morning music will be replaced by the noises of Asian markets. Unseasonable warmth will give way to consistent heat and humidity. Breakfast will probably include rice. And these are pleasures to be treasured too.
In January, I will be leaving the comforts of my familiar home for unfamiliar Asian lands. As of right now, my plans are not entirely sorted, but a few destinations have been planned. My journey to Southeast Asia will be interrupted by a couple stops.
First: Vancouver. For a few days, I have been granted the opportunity to catch up with an old friend and stay with him on my way out of North America.
Next, Taiwan. Originally, my flight was going to stop there for one night, but I think nine or ten days would make for a more fun exploration of that particular island. Changing my ticket only costs me $100 so I’m considering it a nearly-free ticket there.
As a side note, A long time ago, I set a goal for myself. I wanted to have visited as many countries as there are years in my life. Technically, I have already hit that goal because, yes, I did visit Taiwan once already while on my way to Calgary. But one night at a hotel hardly counts. When I return to Taiwan and get a proper chance to see the culture, I will then have hit the mark of 30 countries in 30 years.
After Taiwan, I will finally make it back to Southeast Asia. I will stop in Kuala Lumpur for a couple days before heading off to Siem Reap, Cambodia for a good nine or so days of temple exploration. I’m already looking forward to staying in a guesthouse run by a man named Chum. You just know he’s going to be friendly…
I’ll then be returning to Kuala Lumpur in time for Chinese New Year. At this point, my plans start to get a little hazy. I would like to see more of Malaysia because my last time there was spent mostly in bed with a temperature of about one million degrees and a few gallons of unwanted liquid in my lungs. I’m not interested in doing the medical tour of Malaysia this time, so hopefully I’ll get to see a few more interesting spots like the Cameron Highlands and the rainforests of Taman Negara.
I plan to be back in Kuala Lumpur for the Thaipusam festival on February 11th. At this Hindu celebration, thousands flock to the nearby Batu Caves to be skewered by substantial pieces of metal. This piercing rite should make for some great photos if I can keep myself from passing out. But, given the number of injections I suffered at the hands of my pneumonia, I think I might have raised my tolerance for the sight of flesh being pierced.
The month after Thaipusam is where details get really sketchy. I have a good four weeks to travel in Southeast Asia and I currently have no real itinerary. I might hit Borneo, Vietnam and/or Laos, but all I know at this point is that I need to be in Bangkok, Thailand of March 14th or so. There I will meet a couple friends who will be travelling down there from Japan.
After a few weeks of Thai travel, I’ll be just about ready to begin my next adventure: New Zealand! (Well, I might stop in Singapore first.) I’m planning on heading to another island nation to live and work. Armed with a working holiday visa, I plan on doing whatever I can to support my photography addiction/business.
Speaking of photography, that has been my main focus while here at home. Processing photos, website development and stock agency submissions take up most of my time now.
I know I haven’t written in a while, but that doesn’t mean life has been uneventful. A couple weddings attended (one was a complete surprise), a few great bands seen, scores of zombies photographed, a host of friendships and family relations renewed, and plenty of other good times have kept me happy here in my hometown.
But since it is never a bad time to have a good time, I think I might just get out of these PJs and go enjoy some of that unseasonably warm weather.
Home Again
I am home. I am jet lagged.
It is six in the morning and I have already been a wake for the past hour. This is not by choice. Right now, in my head, it is 8 pm. So, with a little bit of music to keep my company on this ever-too-early morning, I’ll simply rejoice in being home.
Home is, like a fish flapping on the ground and gasping for air, flopping between the totally familiar and the subtly changed (and thus, unsettlingly foreign). A few moments of reverse culture shock have me shaking my head and those societal rules it only takes a year to forget – note to self, remember which side they drive on here?
Seeing my family again has been great and I look forward to spending more time with them. Some details from an email written to a friend this morning:
My parents are so happy to have me here. It’s kind of silly really. All last night, they had enormous grins stretched across their faces.
Oh and (my dog) Arthur – he’s hilarious. He’s gone quite deaf and so when we got home, he didn’t hear us come in. He was sleeping peacefully in another room. So, I went in and woke up with my voice. He was very groggy and confused. He eventually started sniffing me and I think once he had figured everything out, he just said to himself, “Oh, okay, this is how things are supposed to be,” and carried on with his normal routine of trying to get a treat from my parents when they come home.
It was just weird because there wasn’t that moment of “Holy crap! Darby’s here!” It was just, “Oh, you’re home. Well, carry on then.” And now he just acts like nothing had ever changed. He hangs out with me and looks for love and kisses. No fanfare, just resuming where we left off.
And now at six in the morning, painfully conscious, I am sitting at an old desk, steeling myself for the tasks ahead of me: Make plans for my next travels and finish the damn web site. This albatross around my neck gets to drop away while I’m in Calgary. Mark my words. And mark these too – I will make the best of the Kuala Lumpur debacle. My possibilities are so endless I don’t know how I couldn’t.
Darby Sawchuk is a Canadian-born photographer who currently resides in Manchester, England. He has travelled to over 40 countries and is always adding more to the list. He creates stock for multiple agencies and is available for assignments.
+44 0790 992 8932
