North Laos

My boat arrived at Luang Prabang in the afternoon and I found Michelle's guesthouse. The city was gorgeous, sandwiched between two rivers, the mighty Mekong and the Nam Khan. A French colonial city, the city was lined with pillared white houses, each with a balcony. If not for the palm trees and tuk-tuks, one could imagine this was some far flung arm of Southern France, though I've never been there myself. Baguettes outnumbered sticky rice baskets and all food was dripping in butter. It was not without its Asian charm, such as beautiful, yet peaceful wat that were scattered throughout town. My favorite, Wat Tham Phu Si, sat atop a forested hill in the center of town, up a staircase with dragons for railings. The Laos wat were how Buddhist temples should be, relaxing, set into nature and possessing of a simple beauty. Thai wat are too institutional and ornate to achieve this. Michelle and I watched three days melt away in the slow, relaxed pace of Laos. Most days were spent merely sitting along the Mekong, sipping coke and Beer Laos over lap or baguettes. We walked around a bit, leaving the old city by rickety bamboo bridge, strolling through the simple villageside, basking in the smiles of the children or the helpfulness of the scattered orange-robed monks. It was an easy place to love and relax; the two rivers were dotted with fishermen and the surrounding jungled mountains drew stares that could last for thirty minutes or more. Luang Prabang was one of the greatest food cities I've ever visited. Every restaurant was incredible. I treated Michelle to dinner at one of the fine dining establishments in town, L'efant, where we shared two set menus, one French, one Laos, both fantastic. The French menu featured a mushroom-stuffed quail with a berry compote, melting in the mouth with pure bliss. The Laos set introduced us to a few of the local specialties: fried riverweed with sesame seed, a fish coconut cake steamed in a banana leaf, and the single best lap I've ever had, a simple meat salad comprised of green onions, shallots, garlic, chili, lime juice, mint leaves and fish sauce, all served with a heaping basket of purple sticky rice. A dry red accompanied our meal. It may have been one of the best meals of my life, but hardly the most memorable thing I ingested in Luang Prabang. A group of Australians and we stopped by a riverside cafe for a Southeast Asian specialty, Cobra wine. This name, however, was a bit inaccurate for what we actually drank; the jar contained copious preserved carcasses, including lizards, geckos, centipedes, even turtles, and of course, some cobras. It tasted less like wine and more like taking sips from a natural history museum exhibit. It didn't taste too bad, just bitter, though we should have taken warning from the owner's decline when we offered to buy him a glass. Thankfully, we did not get sick. My friend Daan from my travels in India, upon seeing my facebook status proclaiming my love for Laos, basically ordered us to head north to Nong Khiew and Muang Ngoi Neua. We had no plans and took his advice, heading in a minivan through the spectacular hills, mountains, and rice farms of the North. The van dumped us at Nong Khiew, right near a towering limestone karst, jutting right out of the river. "They at least could have dropped us off someplace pretty," quipped a Canadian from our van. We were glad to have taken Daan's advice, as it was one of the most beautiful places of my travels. Michelle and I booked a lovely bungalow on the river and soaked in the beauty of the town. Though we never made it up river to Muang Ngoi Neua, we never complained; there is no point in rushing out of such a place. While there, we explored a nearby cave which hid the villagers during the American carpet bombing of Laos. Our first week in Laos was quickly showing why every real backpacker in Asia had been raving about the country.

The Secret War aka The US War of Illegal War Crimes against the Nation of Laos

In the mid-sixties, the United States was becoming increasingly suspicious in the growing power of communist groups in Southeast Asia, especially of the North Vietnamese government run by Ho Chi Minh. I learned of this in every school history book, but there seemed to be much neglected information. Laos lies along nearly the entire length of North Vietnam, stretching halfway into South Vietnam. To give up political control of this neutral nation could have provided a strong strategic advantage to the Viet Cong, especially in the middle of the Laos civil war between the newly formed government in the French absence and the growing communist opposition of the North. In response, the US launched the "Secret war" in 1961, a CIA run program to train Hmong warriors to rid Laos of the North Vietnamese and communist gorillas, who had been using Laos for the Ho Chi Minh trail to bring supplies to the South for their war of reunification. The Hmong army, led by agent Anthony Poe killed communists in Laos, mailing ears to the US government to show their success and dropping decapitated heads upon the houses of suspected communist leaders. Poe was the main influences for the character of Colonel Kurtz from Apocalypse Now. In 1964, the US started bombing the East and North parts of the nation. I was told in school that the US bombed some parts of Laos and Cambodia in the latter stages of the war on Vietnam, either by accident or following troops down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. I wasn't told that they'd bombed Laos continuously for nine years, averaging one planeload of bombs every nine minutes. We weren't told how the US leveled more than a quarter of the coutnryside of the neutral nation, killing uncounted numbers of civilians and leaving nearly a third of the simple nation's population, mostly rice farmers and fishermen, homeless. The bombing did little to stop the Viet Cong, but it did manage to cripple an already helplessly poor nation and led to a staunch anti-Americanism that helped the Laos communists topple another domino in Southeast Asia. To think that our leaders approved of such horrific acts only to cause the opposite of their intentions angers me quite a bit. That our school system neglects to teach us this side of our history, to not teach us that even our home nation can commit illegal acts of war as a warning that our government can become too powerful and ignored the wishes of its citizens in the 60's and 70's angers me more. Just lounging in the beautiful country, surrounded by lovely, smiling people who choose to let go of their hate and sadness towards the west, is incredible. I hope John McNamara is proud.

Boat Trip Down the Mekong

Among the more popular ways to travel from Thailand to Laos is to cross the Mekong river (and border) at Chiang Khong, then take a two day boat ride down the Mekong to Luang Prabang, one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. River trips have always been pleasing to me, so I also chose this route as well. It was highly recommended. One past the soulless border town of Huay Xai and its need to rip me off, I was instantly taken by Laos. Since it is the low season, there was one passenger boat a day heading down the Mekong, but it was still devoid of many people; all of us were tourists. The boat was a collection of car seats nailed to some boards which were easy to rearrange for optimal socialization. I shared the boat with Marian and Blancdine from Pai as well as a few others that I'd befriended at the port, including the awesome Diogo from Portugal. I would travel off and on with these three for the next three weeks. The scenery in Northwestern Laos was comprised of forested hills, seemingly untouched save a few huts. It was a rainy day, but the hills still appeared lush and gorgeous. The first day was quite short, only six hours. We stopped for the night at Pak Beng, a tiny village that had endless guesthouses and restaurants to cater to the tourists stopping overnight. The rooms were cheap, everyone seemed intent on selling us drugs. Most of us passed on this temptation. Each restaurant ushered the crowds with free shots of whiskey. The town was quite pleasant, so it confused me that the locals felt that it couldn't be enjoyed sober. We still took our free shots though...they were free. The waiter plopped down a big bottle of Lao Lao, the local rice whiskey, imploring us to drink all we wanted. Four shots later, we were all blind drunk; thankfully, we didn't go blind: it was terrible. The alcohol content neared 100%. After I vomited out the window, I decided it would be wise to go to sleep and never touch the stuff again. The second day was even more incredible, the hills had become towering green karsts, rising out right from the ocean. The rain had cleared, leaving only clear blue skies. Unfortunately, everyone seemed hung over; the lao lao left few untouched. It was also less comfortable. We switched to another boat that was fancier, but the seats did not move around, so social interactions were much more difficult. It felt more like a long smooth bus ride for the second leg. The spectacular scenery just passed by; most of us read, missing the random flocks of water buffalo bathing in the river. Eight hours after we left, the boat pulled into Luang Prabang, which stuck out, being the only town of any size we'd seen for the whole trip. I would recommend the boat trip to anyone. The scenery could not be beat. It was much smoother and comfortable than taking a boat through the winding, bumpy roads of Northern Laos. I've heard rumors that the boats often get quite cramped during the high season, but we avoided such a fate. At one time, this was the only way the locals traveled: reliable roads being a recent development in this part of the world. Now, it is mainly a tourist attraction, a taste of the Laos of old. It's a shame though, I can't imagine a better way to travel.

Pai

Pai wasn't on my list of places to visit on this trip. When flipping though the book on Thailand, I came across the town, read how it was a popular place, devoid of any sights or activities, with a serious dirth of significant wat; merely a sleepy (hung-over) mountain village that for some strange reason drew in the crowds, I passed it on without a thought. Why would I want to go to a place where people just relax? Well, after living in the bay, I learned the value of stopping at these types of towns every couple weeks and recharge for a day or two. The hippies of the bay touted it highly, claiming it to be like Koh Phangan in the mountains, which really wasn't too much of a stretch to be honest. It was a four hour ride from Chiang Mai, up a windy road that is famous for its gifts of nausea (I didn't notice, it was raining the whole ride, so just buried myself in a book). I did however, notice it was lovely place. The lush mountains were gorgeous and green, but not so high or enticing to induce the common reaction from me, "I MUST HIKE THERE!" The river was small, flowed a little too fast for swimming, but was so relaxing, but not so nice that I felt the need to grab a Thai guy, throw him against a wall and scream, "GIVE ME YOUR CANOE!" Everything about the town had the magic ability to make me feel as if it was a pleasant place, without being so amazing as to force activity. As you could guess, partying was a popular past-time. I got bored pretty quickly. I really liked the place, but North Thailand has so many places where I could do things, that I tired of chilling out after a day. I had befriended an Australian who was quite fun, but for the first few days, he was only person with whom I wanted to socialize. Everything changed the day I rented the 100cc Honda scooter. I've never ridden one before, so the Australian took some time to show me the basics. The minute I tried to leave to a nearby waterfall, the rain started. So he drove. The rain pushed us to shelter about halfway, which was fine, there were others in the hut, so we all just hung out and chatted for while. Suddenly, about four meters away, we heard a squeal! All but the one Israeli recognized that it was the sound of pig being slaughtered. So naturally, all but the one Israeli and the women walked over to watch the most primitive of human activities. The group of Thai men started by charring the hair in the fire, then used a spoon to shave off the blackened fuzz. They washed the exposed skin, then opened the abdomen to remove the organs. We all knew that these were the main prize of the pig. The intestines were thrown to the side, but the liver, lungs, head, and another organ I couldn't recognize were thrown into a pot and boiled, while they cut up the rest of the pig. Since they began cooking, we returned to our shelter to show that we were not trying to poach upon their dinner. "Ah mate, wouldn't it be nice if they shared some of that with us?" the Australian asked. "For sure! That little pig is going to be really tender and so flavorful because it's fresh." I concurred. "You think they share with us?" The French Belgian asked. The Australian joked, "They'll probably just throw us the penis when they're done." "Hey, for all we know, they consider that to be the best part. It could be an honor to eat the penis." I'd learned in my travels that we all have different ideas of which things are worth eating. To our great pleasure, we were gestured over and offered some of the pig. One of the guys handed me a chunk of some tube, surely not a piece of ham, imploring me to try. I popped it into my mouth; it was a delicious, tender, but with a enough texture to be pleasing. "Aroi!" I said enthusiastically. "What is it?" "Dick!" he laughed a minute, but I'd passed the test and was invited to feast on the rest. "Best part." He said seriously. So we all snacked on the grilled chunks of pork. I was offered a piece of ear, which I found to have too much cartilage for my tastes. We all dipped pieces of lung, liver, skin, and other bits that I chose not to identify, but were equally sumptuous, into an impromptu sauce made simply of lime juice, salt and ground chilis, mixed onto a random leaf picked from the field. Surprisingly, I found the more normal pieces of meat to be the most boring, lacking any of the natural flavors of the organ meat. It's best to just not think too much about what you're eating. So many times in Asia, I'd see a bubbling pot of soup or curry, emitting the types of smells of which I dream, only to pass it up when a quick stir brings the kidneys to the top. I don't know at what point Western culture decided that only the muscles are worth eating, choosing to discard the tasty and more nutritious bits of meat, but I was proud to know I'd learned better. Later that night, we walked into a hole-in-the wall-place, sandwiched between two more touristy and frequented places, and told the woman to just cook us what she likes to eat, once again putting blind trust into the rich-palated North Thais. She reluctantly complied, making us some stir-fried liver in oyster sauce concoction...my god! As we sat there trying to eat through our incessant needs to say "mmmm!", I wondered why liver has been so demonized. Maybe they just don't know how to cook offal in the west. That night after we tired of paying the crazy bar prices and dealing with the anemic social scene, we went to the 7-11 picked up a bottle of Sangsam and coke, then just sat in front, creating our own bar. We started beckoning people to buy a beer inside then join us. Next thing we knew, our "bar" was drawing more customers than any of the regular joints in town. We met two seriously cool French women, Marian and Blancdin who joined our group for the next few days. We found ourselves all hitting the sack sometime after sunup. The next couple days, we all hung out, riding motorbikes to a hotspring, then hiring a local to take us to an even better, natural hotspring. We stayed up until sunrise every one of the three remaining nights I had in Pai. Eventually though, I had to leave so I could make it to Laos and meet Michelle. Yeah, I had to skip a few of the places I'd planned, but it really didn't matter. After touching the Taj Mahal, it is hard for a building to impress me. After being surrounded by the 7000m peaks on all sides of me in Nepal, it is hard for a mountain to impress me. I, however, never cease to be impressed the by company of fun, interesting people. Moving around, in search of a fun time, when you've already found it is silly. I will also never cease to be impressed by the simple act of eating a chunk of penis with some kindhearted locals, showing the most natural act of human kindness, sharing fresh meat.

Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai is a city. It's a city that everybody seems to like a lot; it's located in North Thailand, has a university and a thriving, hip music scene. It is the second biggest city in the country (or fourth, depending on the resource) and the gateway to the mountains. I'd heard so many amazing things about the place, I was nearly urinating in my pants anticipating all the wonders of this cool town; the can't miss destination of Thailand. I didn't like it. I didn't dislike it; it was merely fine. A perfectly adequate city, not too big, but with enough to entertain a person. It was close to many cool places I was unable to visit without expensive tours. The old town was generally a pleasant place for a stroll. The weekend markets were interesting, though touristy; I had the opportunity to eat a bag full of assorted fried bugs and worms. All the people seemed cool. I didn't like it. Maybe it was because, for the fourth town in a row, chosen the most socially anemic guest house in town, and paid too much for it. Maybe it was because I was missing Michelle or my other friends from the bay. Maybe it was a total disinterest in wat. Whatever the cause, I really didn't think it was anywhere close to the amazing that seemed to slip off of everyone's lips when talking about the place. Though this often happens when there are expectations involved. Somewhere along this journey I call life, I need to reject expectation. I'm getting better, but every week or so, I find myself disappointed merely because something didn't match the image in my head, then I vow to stop doing it, just take everything for what it is, then do it again five minutes late. This must be a part of the human condition. I'd heard from people that Pai was AMAZING and I'd have to go because I would absolutely love it. So I left Chang Mai to see if Pai lived up to my expectations.

The Two Great Thai Kingdoms

As I sprinted to North Thailand (my time was short, I was meeting Michelle in Laos in less than two weeks), I stopped at the ruins of two of the great ancient kingdoms of Thailand, Ayuthaya and Sukhothai. I saw them in the opposite order as far as pomp goes. Ayutthaya was a later kingdom, reigning from 1351-1757. At one time it was one of the greatest kingdoms in the world. The empire stretched well into Mayalsia, Laos, Cambodia, and Burma. It is the great empire known to the west as Siam. It was eventually crumbled by invading Burmese soldiers. The ruins are scattered around an urban area, which was an odd was to see such temples, sandwiched between 7-11's and noodle shops. I toured the city on a nearly 40C day by bicycle, maybe the hottest day of the year. Most who saw me thought I was insane. I went to visit two temples a couple miles outside of the city center, years of bike riding gave me the confidence to brave the highway by pedal. The locals got quite a kick out of this; though it is normal for Thais to bike crazily on any road, most tourist just take the bus. I got many congratulatory honks and thumbs up in my ride. I did have an accident on a tiny side streets, hitting a speed bump too quickly while entranced by another of the awe-inspiring buildings of the city. I was fine, merely skinning my elbow. Giant Buddhas, towering wat, crumbled palaces, Ayutthaya was quite amazing. The next day I headed to the capital of the prior empire of Sukothai which lasted from 1238-1583, when the Ayutthaya kingdom absorbed them. The ruins of Sukothai are similar architecturally, with slight differences of styles. However, the ruins are more ruined and not as spectacular as their latter cousins. The settings however are much nicer. The jungle absorbed many of the buildings and it never became a modern city like Ayutthaya, so the ruins are set in a peaceful park. It has one of the most famous and powerful Buddha images in the world, with its iconic, half gilded hand, the Phra Achana at Wat Si Chum. I did only spend half a day biking around. There are only so many ruins a person can see in a short time before attention wains. Both are lovely and worth a visit.

Bangkok...Again

I flew back to Bangkok from KL. Because of the wonders of Air Asia (see my little song I wrote above), it was cheaper to fly than bus. I was sad to be skipping much of Southern Thailand, but when you get trapped on hippie island paradise for three months, you have to make sacrifices. Much like my initial visit to Bangkok, I want to do it as the popular hit from the 80's said, just one night, but I really wanted to spend some more time with one of my many foreign brothers, Nat. Considering how seldom I seem to be in Asia and the low wages for Thai nationals, it was a necessity. We met at the Erawan Hotel, which is probably the poshest place in town, for dinner. It was a buffet that defies description. Simply amazing. Every classic Thai dish sat before us. That was only the start. I sampled my first real cheese since I left the west, gorgonzolla, real sharp cheddar, some Italian cheese which name I forgot. There was sushi bar, prime rib, rock lobster, opera cakes, tiaramisu, I can't even recall all I ate or did not have room to finish. Nat and I found ourselves talking for almost five hours, eating the whole time. For the third day in a row, I consumed more food than was healthy (it was so good, I won't complain). I ventured to the same guest house I visited in January, finding it nearly empty. The whole Th. Khao San area was pretty dead compared to January, but I was there the first time in the busiest month of thai tourism; now is the low season. April brings intense heat and humidity before the monsoon hits in May. The next morning, I decided to visit the grand palace. Last time, I found the idea that I had to pay twelve dollars for the palace, yet next door, the jaw-dropping Wat Pho cost under a buck. After seeing Michelle's photos, I realized that it would be mad to skip such a lovely looking place. Well, it was lovely; it was more than lovely: with towering temples and sculptures, bejeweled everything, intricate carvings upon every surface, it was one of the most amazing architectural achievements I've ever seen. So Thai government, you win, your grand palace is worth every penny of $12, especially when a ticket also gives access to Dusit Park. Few tourists seem to make it up North to see the other main palace, which is incredible in its own way. I caught the ferry up, taking advantage of what was once the main form of transportation in the "Venice of the East". The highlight of Dusit Park is the Ananta Samakhom Throne Hall, a neo-classical style building that is pulled off better than some of its European counterparts. The building itself is awe-inspiring, but the exhibit inside made my mouth sit open wide for the hour I spent walking around. It housed a collection of gifts the royal couple commissioned for various events such as birthdays and anniversaries. Carvings, metal work, embroidery with finer detail than paintings, and my favorite craft of the exhibit, using the wings of shiny green/blue beetles embroidery, or inlayed into the different works of art. Stunning. I figured that if I only saw the old city, I wouldn't be experiencing Bangkok, so I walked the couple miles to the city center to have a look. Somehow, I got lost in a giant air conditioned mall's food court for a long time. I eventually found a net cafe and let the stress disappear. I don't think I like the new Bangkok much. I spent the night walking around Chinatown with Nat some more. He's a really neat guy. Since I wasn't living at home and I was just starting my relationship with Manda, my interactions with him were quite casual; and his English wasn't so great. Now, he's fluent; we had long conversations for both of our nights together. I would have loved to have spent some more time with him, but honestly, I saw the few sights in town and it's one of those cities that drives me crazy. Well, most cities drive me crazy, but Bangkok is especially insane.

Malacca Food Weekend

When I arrived, Jacky informed me that he would be heading to Malacca, an earlier capital of Malaysia, for a weekend with his friends. He invited me along and of course I accepted. He then warned me that this weekend would mostly revolve around food, as if it might be a bad thing; this excited me, food is the most important part of traveling for me. Little did I realize the ramifications of this statement: Asians, especially Malaysians are particularly passionate about food, so when they say there would be a focus on food, they really mean it. Our total group was 14 Chinese Malays and me. Our group size would induce fear in US, but in Malaysia, this was apparently normal, except for the random white guy hang out with them. Our first stop was a market's food court about an hour from KL that was famous for it's beef noodles, a common breakfast for the Chinese. It was delicious and does make a quite decent breakfast. In Asia, food courts do not quite have the stigma as in the US. Some of the best food I've eaten on my trip has been in random malls and few countries are as food court obsessed as Malaysia. Most buildings in commercial districts are just lines of food stalls, each featuring a specialty dish that a family has been making in that spot for generations. Next, we drove for an hour to a pier just South of Melacca to sample some great seafood for lunch. The specialty was prawns cooked in a spicy sauce with a small green bean that is quite bitter. I didn't care for it much. The bean I remember is from a pod that some people in the US hang from their houses as a decoration (at least my grandmother did). The fish and mussels we had were quite delicious. An hour later, we stopped for a refreshing dessert of Ice Kachang or ABC as the Malaysians like to call it. Now, this is dish that sounds horrible; it looks horrible as well. First, they take shaved ice and squirt some random syrups into it, essentially a snow cone. Then they add cendol, green strips of some sort of bean, sweetened pinto beans, and corn, then top it all off with vanilla ice cream. I initially tried it in Penang, merely because it sounded so strange. Then I realized that it is simply the most amazing, refreshing, tasty thing a person can eat in such a hot/humid climate. From there, we walked around a bit, seeing a few sights, a clock tower, a park, before driving an hour to our hotel in Malacca. A short rest later, we were back on the street, hitting up the markets in Malacca for some snacks, finally stopping at a Chinese restaurant featuring one of the local specialties of the town, Chicken rice balls. We had these with some excellent chicken, vegetables, and the highlight, a whole steamed fish, drenched in a spicy Thai style sauce, a bit tangy, a bit sour, with a chili kick. I tried my best not to drool or orgasm in the company. The chicken rice balls were used instead of rice; they were basically a ball of rice flour, flavored with chicken stock. They were ok. We separated after this to do some sightseeing in the dark, but I didn't see too much, just wandering around the markets. Our main stop was the nationally famous Capitol Satay, serving Satay Celup, a specific style of satay where sticks of every variety: seafood, chicken, sausages, mushrooms, bok choy, morning glory, duck embryos...about 100 varieties in all are dipped into a pot of boiling, peanuty satay sauce until cooked. When we walked by the first time in the evening, the line went for about a block and half, representing over two hours of waiting. It was slightly better when we returned hours later; the wait was only 45 minutes. It was worth it! The table had a gas powered pot, in which a the delightful sauce was added. Every few minutes a waiter would arrive to dump more peanuts, tamarind, and other ingredients I could not identify. The owner, seeing I was a foreigner and the size of our group, treated us to huge prawns, scotch for the guys and some coffee liquor for the ladies. By the time we left, we were sweaty, so full would could have rolled, covered in blots of brown sauce and quite jolly. It was one of the most fun dining experiences of my life. This however was not the end of our ingestion. After an hour digestion time, we went to the jetty, a mall of nighttime entertainment, featuring a nightclub, bar, quiet cafe, pool/snooker hall, and a karaoke emporium. Sadly, the karaoke was closed for the night. We stopped for some chips and beer, finally filling our stomachs past our esophagus to the throat. The next day was only slightly less gustically insane. The boys all separated for a quick breakfast of ba kut teh the, a rich, robust soup called pork bone tea in English. This Chinese specialty soup really took off in Indonesia and Malaysia. Apparently it is quite complex to make using rare ingredients Jacky assured that I would have trouble compiling back at home. The one we had that morning was acceptable; Jacky took me to an award winning ba kut the the place near his house a couple days before that may have been the best soup I've had in my life, robust, steamy with a bitter, dark broth that seemed simple, but with further tasting, revealed to be ridiculously complex. Not more than an hour later, we stopped for lunch of Nynoya style Chinese, a mix of Malay and Southern Chinese cooking traditions. It was quite tasty. The afternoon was spent wandering around the old colonial building of Malacca. Many years ago in 1300-1700, Malacca was the capital of a quite prosperous empire of the same name. In the days of old ships, traders had to wait for the monsoons to change when going between China and India; Malacca was where they waited and conducted some trade. The empire crumbled after the Portuguese, craving the wealth of the busy port invaded, overthrowing the sultan and starting their own company. This occupation was ended by the invading Dutch, who ruled for a while. Then the Brits took over, using their influence in Penang to take over all the straights of Malacca between Malaysia and Sumatra, as well as most of the Malay peninsula. They improved infrastructure and developed much of the country; this being one of the main reasons why Malaysia and Singapore are the most developed of the Asian nations. The architecture of the city was interesting, lacking most of the pomp of many colonial cities, but maintained a pleasant vibe, like much of the country I saw. After some snacks, we headed back towards KL, stopping for dinner at a crab restaurant that is quite famous and rightfully so. It may have been the greatest crab I ever had, served in two styles, Chinese and Thai. The former was boiled in some salty brine, that did not detract from the delicate flavor of the crab. The latter was simply the best crab I've tasted in my life. Ginger, chili, garlic, lime; I found myself unconsciously saying "mmmm" after every taste. I was so pleasantly stuffed. The sheer quantity of food we all put back was incredible; I didn't think it was possible to eat so much in such a short amount of time. If you like to eat and an Asian invites you to be a food tourist, take the chance! Your mouth will be so happy.

A song about Air Asia

Traveling it gets so hard But one thing makes me a bard Not bus, not trains, but red airplanes Oh, I will just explain The fares are low The skirts are high There is no better way to fly Than Air Asia. I love Air Asia I don't want to sound too sexist, But these flight attendants leave me breathless Chinese, Siamese, always beauties Yes, I'll have another coffee please Cause the fares are low The skirts are high There is no better way to fly Than Air Asia. I love Air Asia Something about all those almond eyes Reduces me into some happy cries. I don't know if it's the sudden elevations, But my heart's got some palpitations. Will you marry me? I'm not rich, but you can live with me for free... In America In Americ-ca Cause your fares are low The skirts are high There is no better way to fly Than Air Asia. I love Air Asia.

Kuala Lumpur

Kuala Lumpur (or KL as most seem to call it) was not on my original plans for my trip, but after sharing a room and befriending Jacky on my week-long tour to Tibet, he invited me to visit. I initially declined; it was bit out of my way and I didn't want to stretch my budget too thin; I'd already added Laos to my original plan, but he gave me "the face". In Asian cultures, it is rare for men to show emotion, so when he dropped the pleaing eyes as he said "But Thailand is so close!", I couldn't say no, plus, he's a great guy and Malaysia has free visas on arrival. I could think of worse things than seeing a new country as the guest of a local. It was a great decision! Jacky took me to some great places such as the lovely government buildings outside of the city; Batu Caves, a gorgeous Hindu temple set into a mountain; some great local hangouts, all but unknown to tourists, including Lookout Point at the top of a hill, giving great views of the city. As is customary, he let me pay for nothing, despite my pleas. It almost became a game of sorts. I'd sneak off to use the toilet, planning to discretely abscond the bill on the way back, only to find Jacky, using this opportunity to sneakily pay it himself. I got him once though, keeping the correct amount of the bill in pocket, then handing it over before he could open his wallet. Considering he was gracious enough to take me around and give me a place to stay, the least I could do was buy a dinner. Jacky, of course, worked during the day, so he'd drop me at the bus station on the way to work and I'd explore the city. KL is quite nice, featuring some of the best modern building I've seen. The star is of course the Petronas Twin Towers, arguably one of the most iconic skyscrapers in the world. Standing at 452 meters, it is the fifth tallest building in the world, though when built, it dethroned the Sears Tower for the top spot. It's a stunning sight, especially at night. Nearby is the Menaras Tower, sitting on top of hill, it stands above even the twin towers. With two such dizzingly high structures, so close together, twice as high as anything else in the city, they feel like Sauron and Sauruman ar looking down across the city. I went to the observation deck of the Menaras Tower (the bridge between the two Petronas towers are open, but it isn't so high) for an amazing view of the city. Besides that, I didn't see too many sights, I just walked around. I was still a bit shell-shocked by all the people and cars after living in a secluded bay with no motor vehicles for three months, so I spent a lot of my time sipping coffee and using the free wifi in the shelter of Mcdonalds. Overall, KL is a pleasant modern city. Even the old town is quite new. The people are friendly, everyone speaks English, and nobody hassled me once, which is rarity in Asia. I doubt it would hold a traveler's attention for more than a couple days, but it is a worth a visit. Of course, the highlight for was visiting an amazing friend and seeing first hand the life-style of a middle-class Malaysian.

Cameron Highlands

Despite its modernity, Malaysia's tourism is nowhere near as developed as Thailand, directly to the North. With its oils and rubber industry, it doesn't really depend upon it. Plus, it lacks the bang and wealth of the jaw-dropping attractions of its neighbors. That said, there are certain places that pack the tourists in; the most popular is the Cameron Highlands, a few hours North of Kuala Lumpur. The area was stolen from the natives and set up as a hill station during the British occupation of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. It is basically a series of hills and tiny mountains, with a stable temperature of about 20-25C. Nearby is forest and jungle, with many hiking opportunities and waterfalls. It is also a center for agriculture, producing most of the country's tea, fruits and vegetables. I'd met enough people who felt apathetic about Malaysia, but loved their visit to the Highlands, so I booked a two day trip. Kuala Lumpur is nice, but hardly exciting enough to hold my attention for the whole week I was spending in the country. I didn't have a Lonely Planet for Malaysia, so I went in blind, merely buying a bus ticket and booking a room. When I arrived, it was raining, so I didn't do much exploring of the area. I'm not a big fan of package tours, but with no map, no information, all the brochure shops closed, I just booked a full day tour for the next morning. My day started with a visit to an "authentic" aboriginal village, which it truly was. Much like the Indian reservations of the USA, they all lived in simple government houses, leaving a few bamboo huts for the sake of the tourists and a few residents. The village was mostly empty. "If you want to see some real aboriginal life," said our witty guide, "Just go the KFC in town. They are wearing their now traditional dress and they dye their hair light. They look just like you now!" I'm so glad the world is becoming one big America. It's charming. We were all given the opportunity to shoot a real bamboo glow gun. Watch out, apparently I'm a natural at shooting poison darts (and yes, they were unnecessarily dipped in poison); I hit the target at dead center. Though I found the whole village tour interesting, there was something unsettling about being herded through some people's homes like it was a zoo. Next, we headed to the jungle for a hike to see the world's largest species of flower, the rafflesia. It's about as big as a truck tire and smells like rotten meat. It's not particularly pretty, but it was incredible to see such a large red flower. This was the main reason I booked the tour. Our next stop was the Boe Tea Plantation and factory. I visited a factory in Darjeeling and took a tour (though I suspect it was run by an enterprising Indian hanging out at the door), but nothing was running and it was much more interesting to learn the tea production process while actually watching it in operation. Like all tea plantations, it was gorgeous. Tea farms are probably the prettiest in the world. The tour stopped at an insect zoo and a strawberry farm as well, the but only thing I gained from these were as stupid puppet I won with a claw machine. I boycotted the insect zoo because the woman who sold me the tour promised that it included all admission fees. She lied. I'm sorry the zoo had to pay for my strange sense of principals, but hey, I hate lying. Overall, the Cameron Highlands were a pleasant place that seems to draw some cool travelers. The hill station lacked the bang of other British heat-retreats, but if you are on Pennisular Malaysia, a stop to this lovely area is well worth it.

Malaysia

Malaysia often flies by the radar of most travelers, choosing the savvy Thailand to the North or the vast jungle archipelago of Indonesia to the South. If Malaysia gets noticed, it is typically by those traveling between the two. Malaysia is a bit of an anomaly in Asia. Whereas most countries are developing, Malaysia seems properly developed. Europe has been pumping money into the nation because of the important stopover port of Malacca for hundreds of years. Therefore, it lacks the "authentic" seeming charm that most come to expect from Asian countries. If you look past this, accept it as a developed country, it is quite nice. At first, I admit, I found it a bit boring; I didn't come to Asia for such a "Western" place (I really don't mean to imply that Malaysia is Western). When I returned for my second trip to visit Jacky in KL, I was pleasantly surprised. It is clean, the roads make sense, the people follow the rules, for a place whose slogan is "Truly Asia", it seemed anything but Asian. But, if you crack through, it's about as uber-Asian as a country can get. It is a melange of cultures. Chinese, Indians, Malays, and the native tribes all mingle with each other in harmony, for the most part, but with surprisingly little fusion. With a stop at any food court, one can buy authentic dishes from many food traditions. The official language is Malay, but with so many cultures tossed together, each with their own language, walking around can sound quite confusing; as a bi-product of the years of British occupation, the nation's second language is English, which everyone speaks. I found myself hearing two Malays at a store speaking to each other in English. It's not out of the ordinary to hear people alternate English and Chinese within a single sentence. This multiculturalism also leads to a general friendliness and acceptance of all ethinicities and nationalities. Unlike every other place in Asia, I met no hassles, no stares. I was just another foreigner in a country comprised of foreigners; it reminded me of the United States in that way. The only racial problems seem to come politically. The nation is ran by an Islamic government, and all positions of power belong to the Muslim Malays. They also get special concessions, including cheaper houses, which is unfair to the other ethnic groups of the nation, who only in the country for a couple of generations are still Malaysians. The Chinese, typically shrewd at business control most of the money; the Hindus clean up the messes and sell Roti Cani. Despite this, the racial tension seems to be low. Overall, Malaysia seemed to be a pleasant country in which to live, though a bit boring as a tourist destination. It was green, clean, forested; the government is quite obviously conservation minded. I liked it quite a bit, though I did come to visit a friend, which often yields different perceptions of places. Give Malaysia a chance before accusing it of having no culture or no unique national identity. Much like the US, you just have to look a bit deeper. It has a unique charm; it's just a bit subdued.

Lesson Six: Just Dance

Just Dance I've enjoyed dancing for most of my adult life, though it has never been a passion of mine. Just an activity saved for concerts and weddings, always in the company of alcohol. Just moving around to some good music, having fun, it releases a lot of energy. In general though, I reserve my dancing for music that can actually move me, primarily hip/hop, R&B, funk, and ironic choices like ABBA (actually, I do enjoy dancing to ABBA, I just feign pretending to like it in some sort of convoluted ironic irony). The pulsating, regular electronic beats just leave me bored. One of the most beloved past-times on the bay was dancing at one of the many parties around the island, the most popular for my area was Guy's Bar, a party that began around 11PM on a Friday night and finally stops around 3PM the next day. When I arrived, I was told of the wonders of waking up early, around six o clock, and dancing through the sunrise. The thought of waking up with the sole purpose of dancing at sunrise sounded silly, especially when the chances of six beers was a little slim. My first Friday, I just stayed up all night instead, this made much more sense than going to sleep, during the biggest social event of the week then dancing in the morning when the party was likely to be petering out. Oh how wrong I was. Right before the sun came up, mobs appeared from nowhere: caves, treehouses, hidden bungalows a kilometer into the woods, all dressed in crazy costumes, tearing up the floor with a a dancing energy that seemed impossible at such ungodly hours. They were so free, so confident, yet I was so tired, I could barely move. I left that first week, wondering how some people could live in such a state, not caring what people are thinking, dancing in the morning, no drugs, no alcohol, looking so silly, yet beautiful at the same time. I learned quickly that staying up all night was not the correct method anyway; doing the same as the long-termers: waking up on Saturday mornings, before my breakfast and having a good dance to start the day, was fantastic. It left me so energized for the whole day. I began to quite love dancing, spending most of the day Saturday, just hanging out at Beam and walking over to Guy's Bar whenever the music got good. When my restaurant became the place to party for a while, going off most nights with the funky R&B I played, I was required to dance; this was my preferred style though, so it didn't take much to get me moving. After a while, I stopped caring what others thought; I stopped caring if the music was terrible or not, I just danced, because it felt good, because it was fun, because it left me surging with energy. My terrible little two step with shaking hips and that weird off-rhythm thing I do with my right hand, which JJ dubbed as "shaking the dice", didn't seem stupid anymore: it was just how I danced. Cause when you think about it, all dancing looks pretty stupid, but that shouldn't stop people from doing it. So, the most important thing I learned on the island was to just dance, no matter what. And yes, this is a metaphor for life, not really about dancing.

Great Chinese Firewall

Well, I am in China now, stuck behind the wonder of the Great Firewall, blocking me from any access to Facebook.  If you would like to contact me, I still have my email at popomaticbubble@yahoo.com  Drop me a line, since I don't really have emails for anybody.  Also, I will be returning to the United States on August 9th after a quick visit to see Michelle in Norway and a couple days in London, England for good measure.  See you then.  I will start posting a flurry of blogs I've writen on my computer, but couldn't post since I broke it. The screen is working now, kind of. I have about a 8x8in space to do things,  but sometimes it stops working all together.  Cheers, Aaron