Finally...

I got off my keister and have created a new blog. Check it out at
lvarga-br.blogspot.com/

Lombok and Bali

First, a bit of unfortunate news: the ATPIC server where I keep my photo albums has crashed and all my online photos have been lost. They also have informed me that they keep no backups and do not plan on doing so as long as ATPIC remains a free service. So, unfortunately I have no online photo albums anymore. Their server is back up and running now and I can start posting again -but there is no way I can afford the time to go back and repost past pictures :( Future pics will be posted either there or I may (should) try to find some other host.

On to more interesting things:
I went to Bali for a little over a week. First thing I did when I got there is hop on a ferry to Lombok and headed to climb a volcano: gunung Rinjani. Now, I'd had enough of climbing mountains for a little while and debated not doing this one, but the Rinjani volcano is unique: in it's crater is a lake; and within that lake is another smaller volcano created by a second eruption of Rinjani. I was quite annoyed by everyone in the town that I met telling me that you were not allowed to do the climb without a guide and a porter -when that is certainly not an Indonesian law (they were all lying-except for one person who agreed that it wasn't a law but highly recommended I take a guide) . They try to sell you a 150US$ package (you may think that this is not a lot but in Indonesia, it is a huge amount) that includes a bunch of stuff that I didn't want. I even tried to go the "park office" to pay the park entrance fee, but the guy there told me that I couldn't get into the park if I didn't also buy guides/porters/etc. So, they forced my hand. I had tried to do the right thing by paying the entrance fee, but they wouldn't allow me. I told them that I couldn't afford it, and then went off and climbed the volcano on my own. It is a two-day climb (although they try to market it as a 5-day expedition). After about 8 hours of walking and about three-quarters of the way up the mountain I found a neat little cave; I unrolled my sleeping bag and made camp. The next day I woke up at 3am with intentions of going to the summit for the sunrise. I could hear the wind howling outside my cave. I poked my head out and the wind almost took it off -it was freakin cold!!! I quickly crawled back into my hole and went back to sleep. I woke up again at 6:00 as the sun was rising and headed for the summit, the cold bite of the wind softened somewhat by the warmth of the sun. Above the treeline the wind was so strong that it was difficult to walk in a straight line and, unfortunately, about 200m away from the summit, I had to stop. The last part to the peak was on a hairline ridge that dropped off sharply to both sides. I was so close to the top. On the other hand, one misstep on that ridge and I was a certain goner. I sat there, back bent against the raging wind, looking at the ridge and the summit for maybe 20min. I decided my chances of getting up and back down were pretty slim. So I shouldered my bag, and headed back down the mountain. Though I did not make it to the top, The last 2 hours of the climb were along the rim of the crater, and the views inside the volcano were fantastic.


While I had been annoyed at the people in the town for lying to me about the guides, it hadn't really made me angry until I was on the ferry back to Bali and met a couple that had really wanted to climb Rinjani, had the correct information before reaching the town about not needing guides, but were turned away from climbing it because the locals there were so aggressive in claiming that it was impossible without the purchase of their ridiculously overpriced package. They were so dissappointed and even more so when I told them that all you had to do was walk by all those people and start walking up the path (I told them about my trip before I knew about their experience, and after felt really bad).
As I tried to leave the town where I had started and ended my climb, I was approached with offers of transportation that were absolutely ridiculous. So I started walking out of the town. One guy in particular was trying to "help" me and he told me that the next town was 10km away. Of course I knew that the next town was 4 km away over mostly level ground. Once I got away from all those people and got out into the countryside, I found a guy with a motorbike who was willing to take me to the next major town that had a bus station (about 30km away) for a reasonable price (twice what the locals pay, rather than 20 times the price).
Unfortunately, his motorbike broke down (flat tire) in the middle of nowhere. After some discussion, he decided to walk his bike back to the previous town to get it fixed and I decided to continue onwards on foot as he told me that my destination was about 3km away. Unfortunately for me, he was wrong. And as I walked in complete darkness on a country road with nothing around, I attempted to do some hitching. Very few people were going by, most of them on already overloaded motorbikes. I did eventually find a dude who was very happy to take me the 10km to my destination, for no charge at all.
Back in Bali I spent a few days in Ubud, a cultural centre of sorts. Lots of artists make their homes there. There are paintings and crafts for sale on the streets, in markets, and in shops, and performances every evening. I spent some time wandering around checking out the shops, saw a show -a local dance, and wandered the countryside.


I then went to Kuta and spent some time surfing (or rather trying to surf). It is not nearly as easy as some of these dudes make it seem, and I spent ridiculous amounts of energy getting past all the little (3 foot waves) and the surf of the bigger waves, out to where the bigger waves break. And then I would sit on my board with all the other surfers just waiting for that perfect wave. When it came, I would miss it, or I would be too far forward on my board and get tossed head over heels, or I would get up for a second or two and then lose my balance; most often, one way or another, I would end up under the water rolling around with my arms protecting my head if by chance it should meet up with the board. It really was hard work. But, when you do manage to catch and ride a wave, it is really a lot of fun. In a full day of surfing (8 hours, I breaked for a half-hour lunch) I probably had two good rides. And I would say it was totally worth it.


A friend of mine is getting married in Langkawi on Sat. On Sun I fly back to KL. On Mon to Canada. I'm in Canada for a little over a week, then off to my new home for the next two years: Belo Horizonte (Beautiful Horizon), Brasil.

Sabah and Java with Dave

My brother Dave flew into KL about 6 weeks ago. As I was still working, he spent the first three weeks on the East Coast of Malaysia, in Northern Vietnam, and at Angkor Wat. He flew back to KL a few days after I finished work, and we headed to Sabah. We spent some time diving at Sipadan (got to see sharks, turtles, some barracuda, tons of other fish), then tried to get off the beaten path to a wildlife reserve, but unfortunately couldn't find a way to do it at a reasonable cost within our time restrictions. So we hung out (got stuck) in a town called Lahad Datu for a day. There is nothing at all in Lahad Datu to attract any tourists. This turned out to be a good thing as we were the only foreigners around (Dave's first such experience) and we spent some time wandering around local markets and the pier. We left Lahad Datu and headed to KK. We had an appointment with a mountain.
My second time climbing gunung Kinabalu, this was a very different experience from the first. When I did it the first time, I was relatively fit (I haven't been to the gym in about 6 weeks because of an injury -no worries, I'm ok now) and it didn't rain off an on for the entire climb.
The first few times it rained Dave and I were close enough to shelter that we didn't get too wet. But on a long downpour, we were out in the open for a solid hour, got soaked right through everything, and had gained enough altitude that it was bloody cold. We were so miserable that we considered turning around and going back down. We continued, the rain pounding away, made it to the guesthouse (their thermometer read 8.2 degrees), slept for a few hours in an unheated hut, woke up at 3am, put on our cold wet shoes, and in our last remaining set of dry clothes, praying it wouldn't rain, we made a push to the summit.


Coming down off the mountain we flew into Indonesia's Java, happy to be in warmer climes. I couldn't be out of Malaysia for too long (tax reasons) so it was a bit of a whirlwind tour of Central Java. We flew into Solo and immediately got on a train to Jogjakarata. We spent some time walking around the city and had a few interesting encounters: Probably 5 or 6 locals stopped us to tell us not to buy batik from any of the touristy areas of town (because they are poor quality and/or prices are really marked up) but to go to some government art centre and buy it from there. We had no interest in buying batik, but were curious enough about this "govt" shop that we wanted to go check it out. Unfortunately we ran out of time. We had one conversation with one of the local dudes that went something like this:
Local Dude: Friend, do not buy any batik or any souvenir from sellers in front of sultan palace.
Me: For sure
Local Dude: People selling out front of palace are Mafia.
Me: Is that right?
Local Dude: You know why they are mafia?
Me: No I don't. Why?
Local Dude: 5% or 10% that is commission; But 50% and 60% extra, that is Mafia.
Me: I see.
Local Dude: you only buy batik from government art centre
Me: We are going there later tomorrow. Thanks for your help.

Jogja is a town with a lot of people scamming tourists. An endless number of people came up to us as we looked at our map, or paused on corner or at a shop. And they all pretended to help us and almost all of them wanted to take us to a "special batik exhibition. Only today!". As an example: On our way to find the tourist information centre, we had 3 separate people stop us and give us "directions to the info centre" and afterwards tell us, "Oh...but it closed already today" and then of course they would lead into "I can find a good guide for you" or "come to shop X, they have info for tourists". Avoiding all those people, we got to the open tourist info centre -the people here were really fantastic; we found out exactly how the public transport operates and how much it should cost to get to various places.
One thing I did not like about the buses (although this doens't happen on the nicer/new city bus network): While waiting at a bus station or at stoplights, often vendors would come on selling newspapers, drinks, snacks or strange knick-knacks. This didn't bother me at all (and I've seen this before). What did bother me was the "musicians". They would come onto the bus, play/sing a song and then ask you for money. And there were a ridiculous number of them. While waiting at one bus stop, three different pairs got on, in turn, to do their thing. Not only that, but you could be sitting in a cafe, or checking out wares in a shop and a duo would come over, get in your face, and belt out a tune.
In Indonesia, they have the "becak", a bicycle rickshaw, their drivers are notorious for overcharging, or charging you a ridiculously low amount and then taking you, not to where you asked to go, but to a shop where you'll be really pressured into buying something. Dave and I were walking to the Sultan's palace (if anyone is reading this as research for going to Java -don't go to the palace! Nothing there at all!) and we were within about 100m of it: a becak driver calls out, "Becak! Can go Sultan palace!" I'm not sure if he really thought that we would take a becak to go 100m; More likely is that he was betting that we didn't know where it was/how far it was, and that we would agree on a ridiculous price for him to take us there. 100m!!
Now, having shared these anecdotes I must say that in general the people of Indonesia are amazing, friendly, genuine people and we had so many absolutely fantastic encounters. One of many of these was a member of the Navy, on his way home to visit his family, gave us a better way of getting into town and further offered to go with us out of his way and help us find a guesthouse and make sure we didn't get cheated anywhere along the way. We thanked him for his advice and politely told him that we would be ok. He really was a great guy! And there were many more!!
From Jogja we made a trip out to Prambanan, a Hindu temple, and Borobudur, a Buddhist temple, and another very different Hindu temple: Candi Cetho.
We then went on to climb an active volcano: Gunung Merapi. I had, nearly a year ago, climbed a volcano of the same name on Sumatra. Now, we were really unsure about this one (we were physically beat up as we had come down off Kinabalu only 2 days prior to this) but we decided to give it a go. The first task for Dave and myself was to get to a tiny town called Selo, from where we would begin our climb. There were a few bus transfers, but we had done the research so we knew what to expect. We even had a nice lunch with the owner of a restaurant in Solo who corroborated the details. He even told us about the owner of a guesthouse in Selo, a man by the name of Sony. We were prepared...right.
By the time we were on the last bus, finally heading to Selo, it was pitch black outside. We had ridden on the roof, as the bus had been jam-packed when we caught it, and most of the passengers had gotten off at one of the various villages along the way. Turns out, there were only a few people left when the bus stopped and the driver told us to get off. He spoke no English, and was in an extreme rush. I asked if this was Selo. He made it clear that we had to get off the bus, and as soon as we disembarked, he drove off (all the other passengers had disembarked and walked off). Looking around in total darkness (we later found out that the entire region had lost power), it eventually became clear that we were not in Selo. Talking to a few people we realized that Selo was still another 12 to 14 km away. There was no transport to Selo, there were no guesthouses in this little village, and only a few people wandering the streets. So we did the only thing there was to do: we hitch-hiked. I pulled out my torchlight and we started walking towards Selo, hoping that someone would come along and give us a lift. We didn't walk very far before a dump truck used for shipping soil passed by. The driver spoke no English, but we managed to get him to give us a ride to Selo. We hopped in the back (luckily it was empty) and off we went. As we rode along, passing through completely blacked-out villages, we realized that we had no idea where this guy was taking us. As we started to wonder if we had communicated properly or worse, he pulls over. We hop out of the back and he drives off. As we were wondering how we were going to find out, first, if we were really in Selo, and second, where to find a bed, a guy walks up to us and says hello. It was Sony.
A short while later we met a Swiss dude named Peter and we agreed to wake up at 3:30 and climb the volcano with him. It was a truly fantastic climb. Peter, in his mid-forties, was in much better shape than both of us, and he soon was long gone. So it was just Dave and I walking up the north face of Merapi. There was a brilliantly shining full moon to our right and the sun was coming up to our left. Brilliant.


We did get lost on our way up, but the beauty of climbing a volcano is that, as long as you keep ascending, all ways lead to the same place! It is only on the descent that you need to be more concerned. And the view from the top was awesome: many of Java's volcanoes in all directions all around; many little villages built on the edges of the fissures of these volcanoes. This was easily the highlight of our travels.
We flew back to Malaysia and spent a few days relaxing in KL and then in Langkawi doing the Langkawi thing -cruising around on motorbikes, hanging on beaches, swimming in the ocean. Dave flew back to Canada early this morning. I have a few days in KL and then I'm heading to Bali for a week and a half.

Bangkok

Laura and I went to Bangkok for the weekend. There's not much you can do in a weekend, but it's enough to get a feel for parts of a place.


Compared to KL, I was fairly impressed with Bangkok's public transport: there are cabs that use the meter (no bartering with outrageous cabbies = no upping of blood-pressure everytime you approach a cab!); their skytrain (light rail above ground) doesn't squeal and groan as it moves along; the skytrain, subway, and water taxis are all connected and stretch out through a fair part of the city. The only complaint is that there are a few of tuk-tuk drivers that try to rip you off or scam you in one way or another.
When people say that there's a lot of shopping to do in Bangkok, they're not kidding!! There are giant shopping malls, giant markets, little markets, little street shops, tiny street stalls and vendors that set up shop on a cardboard box at the side of the road, together selling pretty well everything.
We went to Chatuchak Weekend Market, a place that is said to have over 15 000 stalls and see over 200 000 people in a day. We spend over half a day there and saw a ton of stuff, while only a little of the market.
We went to an IT mall: 5 large floors of computers, cameras and accessories! And of course, every piece of software/music/video imaginable.
We spent our evenings wandering the streets and sitting at the open cafes, eating, having drinks, watching people go by.

Pos Atap

Deep in the heart of pennisular Malaysia, there still exist a few small kampungs (villages) of orang asli (lit: original peoples). It is to one of these kampungs (pos atap) that TMC asked me to go on the weekend of 29/30 Mar. Two guys, Goh and Ong, had purchased and were carrying in some supplies (rice, salt, sugar, coffee) to one of these villages and had appealed to others for assistance. TMC was one of those others (they had found him and his love of trekking through his blog). So at an ungodly hour on Saturday morning, TMC, Amos, Ikwan, and I left home to meet up with Goh and Ong in Ipoh. We then drove to a village accessible by road where we met our guide. Then proceeded the 7 hour trek through dense jungle the likes of which I have never seen (No one had been in or out using that route in years). It was easily the most gruelling 7 hours of jungle trekking that I have ever done. It was difficult enough that, until we arrived at the village, I never once took out my camera to take a picture. There was no recognizable trail, and if our guide had chosen to disappear on us, and had we not had Amos' GPS, it is quite reasonable to suggest that we would never have found a way out. Each step was either up or down from the previous; each step involved swinging your parang (heavy machete) to clear a path, or swinging your body left to avoid a big thorn bush or right to avoid cracking your skull on a low hanging piece of bamboo, or hopping over or crawling under a fallen tree. We crossed numerous streams and rivers, got rained on three times, had countless leeches chewing away at our ankles and legs, mosquitos taking care of our necks and arms, and every time we asked our guide how much further, the answer was always the same: 1 hour. It was the combination of jungle density and the undulating terrain that exhausted the body very quickly. I cannot in words describe the feeling of seeing the village after 7 hours of this effort.


The village was a really neat. There were only 5 huts and only older people remained; the young people had all moved to villages closer to the highways, or into the cities. They were expecting us (as Goh had had some interaction with them a few weeks prior) and had set us up with our very own hut for the evening! This was really fantastic.
We hung out there for the rest of the day, too exhausted to do much but lay around and chat. The next day, when Goh suggested taking a different route out of the jungle -a 3 hour trail that was nicknamed 'the highway'- he was met with unanimous and hearty agreement. It was easy to see why the trail was referred to as 'the highway'. It was a clear, defined trail -check out the pics in the album!!
Our different route took us out of the jungle, a few hours away from where we had parked our cars, and into a tea plantation in the Cameron Highlands! As we left the jungle, we came upon a village and the children ran out to meet us. So, out came the cameras and we had some fun posing and shooting pics.
Walking out of the tea plantation, we got on a bus going to Ipoh and asked to be dropped off on the side of the highway near to where we had parked our cars.
This was definitely a unique and fantastic experience and I am glad for all of it: I am happy to have gone into the village on the super-tough "trail"; I am equally happy to have gone out the easy way; it was really nice meeting the orang asli and staying in their homes; it was fantastic to pass through the tea plantations and to play with those children for a few minutes.

To read TMC's detailed account of the trip, or to see a gross picture of about a dozen leeches on his ankle, check out his blog

Vietnam

We had Thurs 20 Mar and Fri 21 Mar off so Laura and decided to spend the long weekend in Hanoi. Many of you who know Rob DeAbreu may also know that he's working in Hanoi. Unfortunately, he was going on a school trip Fri-Mon so we only got to hang out with him on Thurs eve. We arrived in Hanoi Thurs morn, met up with his maid who let us into his place and gave us a key, and then spent the day walking around town. After work, we met Rob who took us out to a nice Vietnamese restaurant (great catfish springrolls!) and out on the town. It was great to see Rob again!


The next day we said seeya to Rob and headed to the East Coast -the famous Halong Bay- to spend a night on a boat in the bay. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't great (apparently, it rarely is anymore), but it was still lots of fun to cruise around the karts; plus, I can't seem to get enough of hanging out on boats!
Saturday evening we headed back to Hanoi. We spent the evening and the next half day hanging out in town, checking out little shops, and hanging in cafes watching people go by. The old quarter in Hanoi is a really interesting and very unique area: women wearing conical hats selling goods out of their baskets or bicycles; streets packed with motorcylces, bicycles, the odd car and bus, and pedestrians; and the ubiquitos face mask of motorcyclists.

Thailand again!

We had a week off for the Chinese New Year (CNY) and Tim, Marc-Andre (MA), Laura and I went to Thailand for a little diving and relaxing!


Check out the photo album for more pics!

I had spent the last CNY diving in thailand and decided that the only way to make it better was to go in great company! I did want to dive some new sites, so we bought a package to live and dive off a boat for 4 days: the diving was to be in the Similans (where I spent time diving last year) as well as a few other locations -Koh Bon, Koh Tachai, Richelieu Rock, and a wreck dive.
It was really fantastic diving. We got to (briefly) see a Manta Ray! I cannot, in words, say how cool that is! I also got to catch a glimpse of a Leopard Shark (unfortunately, only our divemaster and I saw it; by the time we got the attention of the others, it had gone; visibility was not great that dive). Other interesting sightings: we saw a frogfish (not a very pretty fish, but apparently quite rare); a cleaner wrasse cleaning a grouper; nice crab at night; moray eels out hunting at night; and the wreck dive was really nice: saw groups of lionfish, tons of stonefish, and a jellyfish swimming nearby the wreck!
Before we got on the boat, Laura was hesitant about spending that much time on a tiny dive boat doing nothing but diving and relaxing. As we headed back to the coast of Thailand, she agreed that she could have spent even longer on the boat.

After the diving , we decided to head south to an island called Koh Lanta to hang out for the remainder of our week before going back to Phuket to catch our flight home to KL. This island was very similar to Malaysia's Langkawi: we spent time on the beaches, going to BBQ's (having BBQ'd Barracuda steaks), cruising around on motorbikes, trekking to a nearby waterfall, exploring a century-old part of the town, relaxing and playing cards.

Laura, Laos and Cambodia

Some may know that I've been seeing a girl named Laura. She's from Trinidad and moved to Malaysia this June to teach math at Sunway college. It is with her that I spent my two weeks in Laos. She's a great girl and a lot of fun! We had previously done a few small weekend trips, but Laos was our first real travel experience together.




Of the three week holiday I had this December, Laura and I spent the first two in Laos after which she flew back to KL (she needed to be in Malaysia for tax reasons) and I spent the third week in Cambodia.

Laos is really a lovely place. The country is so calm, peaceful, serene; the Lao people are fantastic, gentle, geniune. It is very easy to see why, time after time, travellers emphatically reply "Laos!" when asked about the highlights of their Southeast Asian tour.

We flew into Laos' capital, Vientiane, rented a motorbike and spent the day touring around. Our first impression was that there's not a lot going on there for it being the nation's capital. Returning to Vientiane after the two weeks travelling through Laos, we could, now with a basis for comparison, clearly see it as the capital city.


Spending the next 20 hours on buses we arrived in the town of Xam Neua. We headed out in search of a waterfall, our directions: find such and such rice paddies, cut through them to the forest, find the path, follow it to the river, follow the river. As you may imagine, this turned out to be quite an adventure that involved getting lost numerous times, crossing a river that didn't need crossing, only to cross back...good fun! We did find the waterfall, and thankfully made it back to our motorbike as the sun set.

The next day we rode out to Vieng Xai, a town built around the many limestone karsts that jut out of the ground. This is a town with a lot of history. What had been civil war in Laos turned into CIA-supported fighting against Vietnamese-supported Communist Rebels, the Pathet Lao (now the government). A lot of the action took place in Vieng Xai (the land is littered with bomb-craters) as the Pathet Laos moved their operations to the immense network of caves in the area. People lived in these caves for years as the war waged on!

The next day we got on a bus heading to a town called Nong Khiaw. Somewhere along the line I screwed up and what I thought was to be a 5 hr bus ride turned out to be 14. The ride in itself proved to be an adventure. The bus stopped at every small town and more and more locals got on. I counted 50 seats and 80 people at one point -some of them sitting on stools in the aisle, most of them standing, a bunch of the crowding the driver and the doors.


Nong Khiaw is a quiet, small town on the Nam Ou (river) -a tributary to the Mekong. We spent two days there, relaxing in a really nice place with a suberb room and view. One of the days, we walked along a trail for about an hour and arrived at a little village. We had planned on moving quickly through the village, if at all, as we really felt like we were intruding, but as we entered the village, a 15 year old boy who spoke a few words of english approached us and asked if we wanted a ride, in his boat, back down the river to Nong Khiaw. At $4US, the price was a bit steep, but we agreed as, not only would it be a nice to take his longboat down the river, but more importantly, being with him justified our presence in the village and we walked slowly through it feeling slightly less intrusive. Though we did not spend much time there, it was a great experience to see how these villigers lived. No cars, roads, or electricity. A few water buffalo grazed near the harvested rice paddies. Chickens and ducks clucked running free under the thatched-roof homes built on stilts. A few dogs ran out to greet us with ferocious barks. a group of women bathed behind a bamboo fence, while a few men washed up in the river. A group of men and boys played Kataw, a volleyball-like game played with a rattan ball, and use of the feet to get the ball over the net. We joined a group watching the game.
In this village, as was a common sight in many (I would venture to say all) villages we'd passed, almost all the women, and many girls, some as young as 8 or 9 were carrying babies. A couple children the age of 4 or 5 were tending a fire, while a few others, no older, hacked a way at a pile of wood with machetes -these too were ubiquitous scenes in Lao villages.
The river winds from the village to Nong Khiaw, through fantastic limestone karts, jungle-clad hills, and small beaches where residents of nearby villages come to bathe. The sun set as we arrived in Nong Khiaw.

Ancient Laos is know as the Land of a Million Elephants, and we made a trip to Hongsa, in Sainyabulli province, an area of Laos where the concentration is highest. This was quite a 2-day ordeal and unfortunately we didn't get to see any elephants.
We spent a few days in Luang Prabang, once the capital of Laos and the major tourist destination in Laos. The entire city really is built for tourists: cafes and restaurants catering to tourists, shops and markets selling art and souvenirs to tourists, massage parlours on every corner, guesthouses and hostels in beside the massuers.


Hanging out in Luang Prabang, I would not say is experiencing Laos, but with a significant french influence, it was still nice to hang out for a few days. Becuase we didn't get to see the elephants at Hongsa, we signed up for a tour out of Luang Prabang. We were driven out to an elephant village just outside of the city, went on a 90min elephant trek through the jungle, hung out a waterfall and kayaked down another tributary to the Mekong.

Saying bye to Laos, Laura flew back to KL and I into Cambodia's capital, Phnom Penh.

Flying into Cambodia's capital from the Laotian capital was like entering New York city. In comparison, Phnom Penh is a vast metropolis -bigger, denser, louder.
My first day in Phnom Penh started out ok: I avoided all the touts at the airport, walked out to the road, bargained for a decent price on a motorcycle taxi into town, hooked up with a place to stay and rented a motorbike for the next few days as I was planning on doing a 2-3 day road trip out of town. As I was planning to drive 500km, some over some not too nice roads, I paid a bit more for a proper 250cc dirt bike.


I asked the girl at the shop to let me take the bike out for a quick test drive before agreeing to renting it. Taking it out, I took off down the road and, as I made a left turn, was promptly pulled over by a cop. He spoke super-quick and said that I'd made an illegal left turn; whether this was true or not, I'm not sure -I didn't see a sign and I'd just turned left with about 30 (this number really is not an exaggeration) other motorbikes. I was worried that he was going to ask for a drivers license (which I don't have for a bike) or papers for the bike (which I didn't have as I had just pulled it out for a test). He asked for neither of these. Instead, the first thing he said after telling me that I had turned illegally was that he was going to haul me to the station, confiscate my license and impound the bike and how much would I pay him not to do this? Because he talked so fast, I wasn't 100% sure that I'd heard correctly, so I asked him to repeat himself. Yep, that was it. I was quite nervous and probably didn't deal with the situation as well as I should/could have, but anyway, I bribed my first cop. He wanted $10, but I bargained him down to $5. I certainly do not support this type of thing and under different circumstances I may not have bribed him, but the entire thing happened in about 3 min, I didn't really have time to think things through, and compounded with being nervous...there you go. I know people that have lived in countries where the only way to get things done is with bribes (my folks in Romania, for one), and maybe it is necessary in some situations, but I don't think the dude was seriously gonna drag my ass to the station. And if I'd argued with him for a bit, he possibly may have let me go...on the other hand, it maybe would have aggravated him enough to really put me in a pickle. Either way, I'm not pleased that I so readily supported this corruption -particularly with the law (although having said all that, I can definitely see where they're coming from).

I took a shower in my guesthouse that evening, and as there was no place to put the towel in the bathroom, I had left it on my bed near the bathroom door. Finished my shower, I hopped out, grabbed the towel and went to hop back into the bathroom where I could dry myself off without getting water all over my floor. Now, what I had forgotten in that instant was how low the (concrete) bathroom doorway was and, yep, I cranked my head on it. Pretty good too. After falling to the floor cursing, I noticed all the blood and grabbed the towel, pressing it to my head. Three hours later, after inspecting the would, cleaning it, dressing it, and taking another look, I decided I needed to go to a hospital. I went to what was recommended by LonelyPlanet as one of the best hospitals in Cambodia.

As Phnom Penh has quite a large, dense population, what immediately struck me as my motorcylce taxi pulled up in front of the hospital, was how small it is. I entered and after letting the girl at the counter know that I just wanted a doctor's opinion on whether or not I needed stiches, she ushered me into a room with 6 or 7 beds on wheels -patients in each, and 2 doctors moving about the room. Removing my dressing, the doctor, without hesitation said that I needed stitches. After agreeing on a price (he asked if I could afford to pay $20 and -I didn't think I was in a good bargaining position, and didn't know if it was appropriate to bargain here- I agreed). So, we went to another room where they shaved part of my head (as the wound was above the hairline), injected me with anasthetic (which until they did I was unsure about whether I would get any), and put 6 stitches into my head. All the while I tried to remain stationary as I swatted away the flies from my legs and wondered about the cleanliness of the needle that had just been jabbed into my skull. As I walked out of the hospital, the clock struck midnight. Thus was my first day in Cambodia. (Eventually I did find a hospital in Angkor that would look fancy even in Canada -but they wanted $120 just to register me! This, before they would even discuss how much it would cost to remove the stitches!! I found another place that did it for $18).

While in Phnom Penh, I visited the Tuol Sleng Museum and the "Killing Fields Choeung Ek". Tuol Sleng (aka S21 -Security Office 21) was a school turned prison/torture/interrogation institution by Khmer Rouge Regime. The Killing Fields are one of many areas where, during the genocide, thousands of Cambodians were killed and buried in mass graves. It was chilling to see the prison -the actual beds that prisoners were chained to while being tortured, the shackles, torture devices, pictures of thousands of victims that passed through (as the regime had been meticulous with their documentation). At the killing fields, a monument has been raised. Inside are hundreds of skulls from a few excavated graves. Reading about and seeing these places certainly leaves a mark. That humans are capable of such horrific acts is profoundly upsetting. More so, is that this happened now! Not 500 or 100 years ago, but less than 30 years ago. That Cambodians have been able to rebuild and lead somewhat normal (and by this I mean normal in a third world sense) lives, is a testament to their strength and character. It also explains why I see Cambodian children that could not be more than 12 years old on motorbikes and alone managing counters in shops and at markets -At that age, some of these children's parents were wielding firearms, forced into labour camps, saw friends and family taken away for quetionning, saw death. And this is perhaps one of the saddest aspects of Cambodia's misery: the concept of childhood is lost on many.
Given this recent history, there is however, a remarkable warmth and friendliness to the people, and a will. On one of my 200km drives to the south, I saw the streets lined for miles with schoolchildren on bicycles. I never saw a school, but forever there were children in their uniforms riding their bicycles, I'm not sure if it was, to or from school. It was on my drive home, after leaving Phnom Penh for two days to visit Kirirom national park and Bokor national park, that I had the opportunity to see these unending waves of children.


I had gone to Kirrirom to climb a hill which ,unfortunately, I could not find. I ended up leaving the park and heading to Bokor to see is an abandoned hill station, complete with abandoned hotel, casino, church. The 30km road up to the hill station was perhaps the most interesting part of the park. The road was absolutely horrid. I met an Israeli who had fallen off his bike and injured his arm, an english dude who had tried to get up it in a Honda CRV, but after doing some "big-time damage" to his car was turning around. It took two hours to get up that road. They way down, I expected to be much worse, but (maybe I had become more comfortable on those roads) it was only 1 hour down. The abandoned town was neat, but not overly impressive.

Also while in Phnom Penh, I had the opportunity to shoot an AK47. This was a an experience, albeit a quick one. I had met a dude that asked if I wanted to shoot some weapons. I had heard that Cambodia had had shooting ranges but had read conflicting reports about the legallity of these ranges. I had also read about ranges where rather than firing at targets, you purchase and fire at livestock, something that sounds utterly unappealing. I was also concerned that he may be setting me up: take me to some underground range where I'd do some shooting and then his police officer buddy would pop out from around a corner and threaten to put me in jail unless I paid him enough. I hopped onto the back of his bike (I decided that I'd at least go over and take a look at the setup and then make a call) and half an hour later we pulled into what appeared to be a military base. We rode in passed the guard and onto the compound. There was a unit being put through drills, one guy throwing up on the side; a bunch of guys doing some gardening, and a few dudes hanging around a shooting range. I haven't quite figured out the implications (on Cambodia) of firing this weapon, but I didn't have a whole lot of time to decide; and figuring it would either cost me $30 right there and then or enrollment in the military to shoot that type of weapon, I forked out the cash. It was a scary experience. While set to semi-automatic, it was strong but didn't seem so bad. Once flipped over to fully-freakin-automatic, its power was intense. You pretty well aim for the first shot and the rest of the bullets leave the gun as it jumps wildly in your hands pointing only in the general direction of the target.

Leaving Phnom Penh, I made Siem Reap my base from where I spent the next few days exploring the temples of Angkor. Naturally, I checked out the mother of all temples, Angkor Wat.


It's size truly is astounding (the moat alone is hard to believe -hand-dug, it is 190m wide, I'm not sure how deep but certainly a few metres, and forms a 1.5km by 1.3km rectangle around Angkor Wat). And the intricacy and detail of sculpture in every inch of stone is stunning. Two things really stand out here as I walked through this and other temples. One is that humans had the creativity, ability, patience, and perseverence to built things like this -things that would seem an incredible feat were they built today. And two is how little-valued human life was at that time; thousands of people slaving away at these things for a lifetime, many dying in the process, all for the glorification of one man's ego -devaraja (god-king) though he claimed to be. (This is my interpretation of why these things are built; there are other, more scholarly analyses).

And so ends my time in Cambodia. Back to the daily grind...

Odds and Ends

This post was written before I left for my three week break in December. Unfortunately I had trouble uploading the pics and publishing it, so it has remained unposted until now. I will simply leave it below the way it was written at the time, and will do my best to write about my trip within the next week.

A trek from way back
The trekking club didn't do many treks this semester. Here are a few pics from one we did do. The lecturers on the trip:


I'm taking this pic from the edge of the cliff. Note how everyone is concerned about me falling...except Aaron!


The Germans visited!
Knut and Stephan dropped by with their friends on their way through KL. I mentioned that they were coming to a few other friends and it ended up ballooning into a fair number of people at my place. Stephan had his guitar, of course, and Aaron brought his. Chris Q even played a few songs -who knew!?! Either way, it was a great evening and great to see the Germans again. We are still keeping in touch and I am planning on taking them up on their invite to Germany (sometime in the next decade or two). If you guys read this, hope your travels are going well!
I don't have too many decent shots from the evening, unfortunately.



Head Shaving
Tim had the idea of shaving his head to raise money for Cancer Research. Mikey and I got on board and the three of us extended the idea. We grew our beards, and students voted on various patterns for us to shave into our beards. Following that event, the student council sold raffle tickets to the students. These tickets gave the recpient a chance at shaving part of one of our heads. It was a lot of fun! (Unfortunately I don't have many good pics of the event.)