The Land of the Scooter

After the motorcycle misadventures I witnessed in the Philippines I thought I would never get on a motorbike again. My dream of riding round the countryside was dashed in favour of good health and a whole body. I remember that Dr Deb the Brisbane travel doctor told me that there are thousands of motorcycle and scooter related injuries in the Thai islands every year and that there is a tourist medicine clinic on one of the eastern islands whose work is almost solely dedicated to patching up foreigners who crash on the islands. Worse than getting a minor injury is getting into major legal negotiations outside of Australia. In the Philippines we had a police man doing an interesting job as mediator over compensation issues, and he spoke perfect English and seemed to be above board. I dread to think of the experiences people have had in Thailand over similar situations. So after a day of adamantly rejecting the idea of either sharing a bike with Sal or riding independently I realized that if we were going to leave our hotel in Koh Lanta and the immediate tourist village around it we were going to have to hire bikes. If I hadn't already had diarrhea this would have brought it on.

 

We zoomed around the Koh Lanta island for the rest of the day and night, mostly on sealed roads, and then up and down and round and round the hills on dirt roads that were covered with thick (my feet and ankles were buried when I came off) yellow dust. It wasn't sand or dirt – let's call it a weird variety of powdery Thai beach dust that somehow got into the mountains. Without the scooter we would never have made it up to the beautiful rainforest walk that led to the dried up waterfall. It was amazing and well worth the fear of driving on the road with no clue of what I was doing. There were huge rainforest plants and flowers that I have never seen before. I love this place! Bat caves and a clear creek with big brightly coloured rocks underneath the water. Huge weird bugs, scurrying spiders and once again, rumours of the Mouse Deer that I still have not laid eyes on. One day I will. Hilariously there was an information billboard about my friend the mouse deer, the information directly cited from Wikipedia. Heheh.

We went through a plantation of amazing sap trees that had red and orange deciduous leaves, through farms and over roads that had so many potholes that someone had gone to the trouble of putting old bike tyres over each one. What I thought was someone's idea of a joke obstacle course probably saved me a grazed knee!
 

Other Koh Lanta highlights included eating three meals a day at the groovy Drunken Sailor café (the food was good but the hammocks were better) and swimming at night watching rainbow lanterns reflecting on the water and listening to classic chilled out music at 'the worst beach on the island'. The water was so beautiful and gentle and my feet received a fantastic pedicure from the gritty sand. Writing this makes me want to go back, but there are so many places still to visit.

I'm in Krabi

I had a great experience this morning. Sally and I crossed the border into Thailand at 8am and headed straight to the mini bus stop. We booked our tickets and went into a nearby restaurant and started our regular mime antics ‘no meat, no fish, no pork, no beef, no prawns, no chicken’. I went with the cook and pointed to all the ingredients I wanted. We sat down and giggled at the ridiculousness of having to list every meat imaginable in order not to eat it. After just minutes the cook had sliced and diced and called me over to cook the food! I cooked my own meal in a Thai restaurant and even better – it tasted fabulous! Sally didn’t even mind eating fried veggies and noodles at 9am.

We have spent all day today and yesterday on buses and trains on our way to Ko Lanta, an island on the south west coast of Thailand. I had no idea it would take this long. So far we have spent two hours on a bus from Taman Negara to Jerantut, eight hours on the Jungle Railway (this I highly recommend!) , five hours on a bus this morning and we are due to get off this bus in another five hours, arriving in Krabi at approximately 8pm tonight. Hooray! We have been talking about how fun transport is when you are traveling, how it is possible to spend ten hours on buses as we will today and to be entertained the entire time. Good company helps!

 Rose Apples Mum!

Speaking of the good company I have been keeping, Sally and Dan have exchanged places as my travel companions after a brief overlap on the 20th January. Dan has gone home to Australia after doing some testing traveling with me through India and the glorious Philippines. No more loving for me : (

Since her arrival Sally and I have worked our way overland from Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia right up and over the border into gorgeous Thailand. The women here are stunningly beautiful, the food is delicious (even when I cook it myself) and the weather is so lovely.

In Malaysia Sally and I spent a day exploring Kuala Lumpur, eating fantastic veggie food in Jalang Petaling, climbing the twin towers with our bare hands (this is a lie – we actually went up in a Charlie and the Chocolate factory style elevator with a zillion buttons), and running around madly in the pouring rain and flooding streets looking for Titiwangsa bus station. It was ridiculously fun. The next stop was Taman Negara, a world heritage rainforest in the heart of peninsular Malaysia. It was also Sally’s 28th birthday which we celebrated with a traditional Morris St pancake breakfast with tea.

Only ten minutes out of the city heading to Taman Negara and we were already surrounded by trees. Malaysia is a nation full of surprises. Despite the ‘Malaysia, truly Asia’ advertising campaign, I found this country to be less the expected Asia than anywhere else I have ever been. This is truly a very comfortable place to travel. If only the taxi drivers would turn on the metre…

This is a peacock fern! It's BLUE!

Taman Negara was incredibly beautiful – although still nothing on northern nsw. We caught a narrow wooden motor boat to the local village, zooming along the brown water, surrounded by jungle. It reminded me of the river I stayed on in Sukau in Borneo, beautiful! We did a trek through the jungle in the morning and explored the canopy on a suspended bridge. In the afternoon I am ashamed to admit we visited the natives, the ‘Orang Asli’ people, and it appears their lives have been changed forever by bad tourism practices. It turned out that the place we visited was fully equipped with mod cons that were hidden away for our viewing pleasure. Never again! In the evening we cruised up and down the broad river spotlighting for animals coming to get a drink. Sadly I didn’t spot my beloved mouse deer apparently they are quite a nice meal for the locals.

Back to India (because even when I hate it I am obsessed with it...)

I did my best to undermine the Incredible India advertising campaign in my last blog entry even though there are some amazing things to see there. The most outstanding place I visited was, without a doubt, Varanasi. Varanasi is a city built on the edges of the mother Ganges. The Ganges river runs deep, flat and wide, through Varanasi. The water is filthy, it even looks filthy. There are all sorts of bizarre things suspended in the water, strange particles of I don’t know what, strange oil slicks on top, ash from the fires, soap residue from the laundry that is washed there, fuel from the boats, and garbage from the bursting population of locals, pilgrims and tourists. I asked a boat driver if the water that came out of the taps in Shanti Guest House was pumped from the river and he assured me it wasn’t. He said it came from underground water, far away. I hope he was right because I brushed my teeth in that water, somehow though I don’t believe him. Why would they pump water from afar when the Ganges was only a hundred metres away? Either way the driver was happy to drink it straight from the river, visible suspended particles and all.

photo of some guy and a goat - by Dan (posted without permission... hehe)

Life on the edge of the mother Ganges is a photographers delight. I could have easily sat in one spot all day and watched life go by. There were cows, dogs, monkeys and goats and people all over the giant steps known as ‘ghats’ that led down to the water. The animals all ate garbage to survive as there is no vegetation there. The cows would reach into the edge of the water to pull out garlands of marigolds that had been sent adrift as offerings, I’m sure all three stomachs must be full of string.

I stayed in the ghats at a lonely planet recommended guest house called Shanti, ‘Peace’ in English. The guest house is nine levels high, with mountain goat style stair cases that made my legs burn and my lungs heave! It was great training for the adventure trip in the Philippines. At the top of the guest house there is an open air restaurant that overlooks the Ganges and the city. It was a good spot to watch monkeys stealing laundry, kite-fights on the skyline and the cremation smoke made beautiful sunsets.

All day and all night long bodies are cremated on the banks of the Ganges. As we would walk through the tight, confusing network of narrow alleyways towards the river we would hear people chanting and turn to find a convoy of men carrying a deceased person, wrapped tightly in red and yellow cloth, decorated with tinsel, heading towards the ghats for cremation. The bodies are placed on stacks of wood, specially selected for quality, burning properties and price, and then burned. They are not sent out onto the river the way I thought they would be, it all happens on land in public. There are dogs sitting near the fires to keep warm, family watching and people stoking the fires.

The first time I went to watch a man stoking a fire he lifted up a spinal column with the pelvis still attached, let it fold, and then dropped it back in. I think my eyes nearly popped out of my head. On another occasion I noticed someone’s feet poking out the end of the fire. It sounds so horrible and gruesome, but when I was there it was so disconnected from reality. No one looked upset or horrified by the process, it was more real than that. Being in Varanasi made me reflect on the disconnected way that we deal with Death and dying in our culture. Everything seems private to the point of being hidden. I liked that the family was able to watch their loved one return to the source, it felt honest, cyclic, and complete, not to mention entirely foreign.

Varanasi is not all about the burning ghats, it is also famous for its universities, silk and for kidnapping foreigners. On arrival at the guesthouse after a fifteen hour bus trip that landed us in the dangerous city at 1am our unfriendly hotelier advised that it wasn’t safe to venture out after dark, and that many travelers go missing in Varanasi each year, robbed, tied to weights and thrown into the Ganges to be eaten by the river turtles within hours. Considering how many incompletely burned bodies lay in graves at the bottom of the river I don’t think these fabled travelers could ever be recovered.

Calcutta (I’m sorry, I cannot bear to call it Kolkata) is also a pretty cool city although I only spent a day there before flying out. This is the city of Mother Teresa’s hospice and maybe because of this, maybe not, there is a great scene of travelers who hang around for more than just a few days. Sitting at a very cool juice bar near Sudder St talking to another Australian an English guy approached me, asking if I was interested in going to Laughing Yoga with him in the morning. I swallowed all apprehension – hadn’t I come to India to do Yoga after all? – and left the hostel at five am to meet him and journey to the other side of the city to stretch and do belly laughs with middle aged Indians in a creepy foggy park.

In Calcutta we also met the most endearing, hungry street kids to date. My general policy is to not give to people who are begging, not even food. It is easier for me. This way I don’t have to think about the arguments for or against it, I get to stay out of it. Is there a pimp sending these kids out to beg Slumdog Millionaire style? Am I reinforcing and supporting a corrupt system? Will the kids rob me when I get my purse out? Is this a decoy for something more sinister? Fortunately for me Dan didn't seem burdened with these hang ups and happily bought people food everywhere we went. His enviable philosophy is that even if the circumstances are questionable there is plenty of food in the world and plenty that is wasted, and there is no reason for anybody to ever go hungry. I have never seen food disappear as fast as it did off the plate that he put in front of them. They were HUNGRY and it was all gone in less than a second. I was horrified. A month later I still think about this every day.

Early on in the trip I was keeping myself sane by retaining a sense of humour. Only two or three days into the trip I queued at the Mumbai tourist ticketing desk (tatcal), located in the biggest train station in India. We sat in a semi circle on bench seats waiting to be seen by a lone worker who dealt with foreigners. There were free staff all around him, waiting for regular customers, but we had to wait for him. I had been waiting for about ten minutes before he finished with one customer. He then put up a ‘thank you for your patience sign’ and went to lunch for half an hour. There were staff everywhere, but no one would help us because they didn’t work at the Tatcal counter. With 15 – 20 foreigners already in line ahead of me the scene was quite comical. A crazy African man next to me was losing his mind over the rudeness. A German woman came and yelled at everyone in the queue (except you, she said to me), she thought they were all Indians pretending to be foreigners. I was there for a couple of hours, and when I finally was served I got the ticket I wanted, paid through the nose for it, and left smiling. This was a very typical Indian bureaucratic nightmare which I’m sure was designed to test my patience. Amazingly I retained a sense of humour, but after a few weeks of being taunted, stared at and blatantly ripped off, my humour waned. I became angry, tired and frustrated. I still don’t think I have really recovered. I caught myself telling a taxi driver in Manilla that he was going to go to hell for being a liar and a cheat and that when he goes to church on Sunday he better pray for redemption. Who do I think I am! Maybe someone who needs to chill out or go home.

This rambling chapter has come to an end. I successfully paid far too much for a taxi to our Krabi hotel with Sally tonight without freaking out or telling the driver he was going to have a scorching afterlife. I think Thailand is doing me good.

The highly sought after position of travel companion will become available again on the 3rd of February. Submit applications via email : )

The Million Rupee Question

Today I'm enjoying the steady rain in a resort on Panagsama Beach on the island of Cebu, Philippines.I've been thinking for a while now about starting a blog as a way to stay in touch and share all my exciting adventures. The problem I face now is knowing where to start. I have been traveling for two months and I have jam packed a romance, many illnesses, wild adventures, close calls with death and the law into this time. I've also been to some pretty cool places.

For the last two weeks I have been island hopping around the Philippines with a group of six people from Western Australia. I have jumped two hundred metres on a cable into a ravine, rappelled (abseiled) through a waterfall, been spelunking (caving), canyoning, snorkeling... and so much more. I'm so much fitter, stronger and more determined than I thought. I feel great!

The million rupee question is: What happened to India?

India for me was the promised land. I have been fantasising about India since I was in my mid teens. A land of gaps, hungry – starving, rich – poor, schooled – unschooled, cruelty – generosity, the rich colours in a bleak reality. I was expecting culture shock. I was expecting to be caught in the whirlwind that is India, to be dragged by an undertow through jeweled lands, slums, palaces and rice paddies. To be surprised and awe inspired, to be scammed and tricked and left in tears surrounded by saris and the smell of spices. Jangling bracelets and yellow golden nose rings.

The first thing that comes to mind now is the dirt, filth and phlegm. The horrible sense that with dirty water, dirty hands, and dirty surfaces, and with food handled and grown in dirtiness how can anything really ever be clean. The second thing I think of is sticky blankets that haven't been washed. Ever. The third thing is zooming in auto rickshaws – this I loved.

I went to India with the idea that I would somehow enter a heightened sense of reality. Instead I found that I was still me. Instead of learning Yoga and Mediation as planned I traveled around the country with Dan, the Australian guy that I met in Borneo in July last year. We traveled around the South East coast then through the industrial wild west centre before finishing in Varanasi and Calcutta.

So what happened to India? Instead of engaging with my self healing, self improving, and reconnecting with the source I fell in love and let my vision slide. This was a good and bad thing, a 'going with the flow thing'. The moment of Indian Truth came one day at an awful Indian tourist attraction called Marble Rocks, just outside of the god awful Jabalpur. This was the location of the epiphany.

To set the scene: I had a virus (not the first or the last before leaving) and I was exhausted. The blanket on our bed was grimy and sticky. The water was cold and I couldn't eat the food because my stomach flora was ruined by the antibiotics I had been taking for a UTI. I was miserable. Dan couldn't wake up, he was sick too. I was fuming with rage that I was stuck in another shit hole town in another shit hole state. I started thinking about Sean's adventure tour in the Philippines. I'd read about it, I'd been hearing about it for months. I imagined sunshine and mangoes, beaches and snorkeling, clean sheets and open spaces. A new promised land was born. Within ten minutes we decided to leave India as soon as we could.

On the 30^st December we flew from Calcutta to Kuala Lumpur. Due to a currency issue (we had none) we slept on the floor of the KL Discount International Airport. This was surprisingly easy to do, and an enormous amount of fun. We tipped out all our luggage onto the tiled floor and slept in a nest of clothes and sarongs. It was great! The next day we flew to Manilla, and on the first day of 2010 we flew to the lovely island of Cebu.

The Philippines is a funny place. There are so many vegetables and fruits available here, but getting vegetables on your plate is not an easy thing to do! Only poor people here eat vegetarian meals, and throughout my holiday I have faced not only shock and disbelief that I am turning down meat, but I also get the feeling that people think I am not grateful for my riches when I turn down meat.

Rather than the rickshaws and tuk-tuks I have traveled in in the rest of Asia in the Philippines there are tricycles. These can be either a motorcycle with sheltered side car or pushbike with a bench seat fit for two western bums. In addition to the regular bus network there are Jeepneys, the most fabulously decorated mode of public transport that I am yet to see. They bling up those Jeepneys with lamps, pumping music, amazing spray jobs, chrome, you name it, it's on a Jeepney.

The coolest things of all though is that the people are really nice, the natural wonders are relatively unspoiled, and there are magical spots to visit everywhere I go.