Back to Australia, Back to an unfriendly Reality

As I commuted "home" today, business suit-clad and bundled up, on the Melbourne city tram, listening to head phones to drowned out the background noise and slightly wet from the seemingly constant cold rain, exhausted from my 8:45am-5:15pm job as an Executive Assistant, I got excited. Sitting next to me was someone reading a South America Lonely Planet; the bible. Too many times in my travels I would bump into people reading the bible, and befriend them over conversations about the best restaurants, guesthouses, or just simple directions, only to find out that they are going the same way I am going, and immediately we would become best buds. Well the girl on the tram didn't share my excitement, said "yeah" a few times, and proceeded to get off at the next stop. It was then that I began to realize that people in the "normal" world just aren't very friendly. As I rush to my tram and shuttle through city life, passing other people in all black outfits, I feel like I am attending a fast moving funeral, but there isn't a body. Why is it so hard to smile at someone else, or have a welcoming conversation? People are too busy playing with their iPhones, reading their electronic books or are most of the time, just blatantly avoiding you, and in doing so are missing what makes us human - connections. It is unbelievable how beautiful the world is, not only because of the beautiful mountains or beaches or other scenery's, but because of the people I have met. And it all started with a simple smile and a hello. The quote on my daily calendar today ironically read: Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing. – Mother Teresa


I have only been back in Australia for a little over two weeks, but already I am going through travelling withdrawals. As my tan peels away and my body freezes in the Melbourne weather, I realize how much I miss Asia: the chaotic driving, the kind smiley people, (and even the pestering salespeople) sticky rice, noodle soup, cheap accommodation, but especially the other travellers. After I left Tasikoki Wildlife Center I headed to the island of Bunkanen off the northern coast of Sulawesi Island, Indonesia.

I didn't really know what to expect, except that another traveller, who I can't even remember now, had told me along the way that the scuba diving there was beautiful, so I had written the word "bunaken" down on a piece of paper and decided to venture there. I had accidentally left my lonely planet on the airplane so I went to the first guesthouse near the boat dock.

As it turned out, Bunaken did have the most amazing scuba diving i have ever seen, but what it didn't have was a lot of people. Luckily in the two rooms next to me were a dutch family of 5 who "adopted" me for the week and pretty much let me tag along in everything the did, play in every board game they played, and ultimately probably thought I was stalking them, when we coincidentally shared the same outgoing flight to Jakarta.

The highlights on my time in Bunkanen consisted of a "dolphin watch" tour, which turned out to be more than I ever expected, as literally hundreds of dolphins dove, flipped and swam around us; when some friends I had met came back from their fishing trip and had caught a 300lb black marlin, which tasted delicious too; and of course because the sheer coral wall which surrounded the island was so amazingly beautiful, I scuba dove 4 times.


I had to spend one slightly scary night alone in the city of Manado before my flight to Australia. When I say scary, I just mean that Manado, a city on the northern tip of Sulawesi Island, isn't a place spoiled by tourism, so I was clearly the only white person for miles. Not to mention my hotel room had mildew on the walls, smelt of cigarettes, didn't have one window, and had the type of bed I knew I was going to get bedbugs from, so I sat at the desk chair for hours. In the streets, people would stop me and say "my friend" and ask me questions about where I am from, and others would just point or laugh. I did a good amount of shopping, buying up cheap clothes before I head back to expensive OZ, and then retreated back to my hotel room. The next morning I met up with my Dutch family at the airport and hung out with them until we parted in the Jakarta airport. I had my last cheap massage and boarded my plane.


I have heard Melbourne is a great city, in the summer. What I didn't realize as I got off the plane in my flip-flops (Australians call them thongs) and a tank-top (these are called vests) is that I had arrived in the middle of winter. I still haven't come up with some masterful equation to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, but its around 13degrees Celsius everyday, which required me to spend a ton of money on boots (maybe I should change my blog to walkamileinmywinterboots?), jackets, gloves, etc. I did quickly got a studio apartment in a suburb called St. Kilda, and started a temp job in the business district of the city. I am still getting used to the Australian sayings like, "too easy", "how ya going" and "heaps", and the expensive cost of just about everything. I have been to an Australian footy game which is a combination of soccer, rugby and American football, and out to dinner a couple of times, but for the most part have been trying to save money.


Although it is nice to be settled for more than a couple of days in a westernized culture, I am eager to get back on the road. Only 3 more months and I am on to South America. Wooo hooo!!!

Cleaning up the World's Mess, One Shovel at a Time

If you'd asked me a couple of months ago I would have said "you couldn't pay me enough to shovel bear poop", so today I am wondering why I paid to scoop up a poo-trifecta of bear, monkey and bird droppings!! "Volunteering" here at the Tasikoki Wildlife Center in Northern Sulawesi Island, Indonesia, isn't exactly volunteering, it costs money (about $1,000 for two weeks.) This money goes to pay for my room, food and of course is a donation to help the animals they are so desperately trying to release back into the wildlife. My first night I was sure I made a mistake; there was a spider the size of my hand in the bathroom (which I wasn't allowed to kill, because the animal lovers also love insects); I was told I had to be up at 5:45 to work for 8 hours shovelling poop, scrubbing the algae of the inside of concrete ponds and cleaning out all the monkey enclosures, our entire dinner conversation consisted of talking sadly about the plight of animals; and I was also told there would be no meat served, because if we loved animals we wouldn't eat them.

I came back into my room and said to one of my roommates, "I think this place is far too 'hippy' for me!" Little did I know that in just two short weeks I would make some amazing friends, laugh more than I have in a long time, enjoy every laborious task (well kind of), and feel passionately about saving our world's wildlife and ecosystems. I never thought it would happen to me, but it has.


When my parents asked me what I was doing for work at Tasikoki I told them jokingly "feeding the animals papayas in the morning, and cleaning up papaya poop in the afternoon", but it does pretty much sum things up. I have been working 6 days a week, 8 hours a day, feeding, cleaning, scrubbing, and plucking branches for the animals to eat.

I have gotten dirty, sweaty, covered in substances I don't want to think about and bitten by more bugs than I can count (every time I look there is either a mosquito sucking my blood or an ant with its head buried into my foot, or on a couple occasions partying in my pants.) I also said to my parents in the beginning, "I am not sure I even like animals enough to do all this", but I never did mind a little hard work, so I pressed on with my duties.

Eventually, I grew to love the two orangutangs Iz and Bento who had the habit of peeing on me through their cage every time I walked by, the sun bears Binbin and Bonbon who had the nastiest poops, Betty the noisy Siamang always screaming for a mate, and the other 30 primates and hundreds of birds the center has. What I started to understand was that my money, and my hard work, was helping these animals to live a better life, and hopefully with mine and future funding be released back into the Indonesian wildlife. I probably complained more than any volunteer Tasikoki has ever had, I will admit that, but at least I kept everyone laughing.



Living in my American Bubble, I often forget that the world is suffering in so many ways or that there actually are people willing to fight for it. Willie Smits, the man who opened Tasikoki, is an inspirational man who has devoted his life to saving the world. Seeing that the animal trafficking problem was not the fault of the poor man who needed to feed his family he created a solution that, until I visited his factory and saw it functioning, was beyond my one-tiered thinking. He bought up land around northern Sulawesi, planted palm trees (which when tapped daily, will produce gallons of juice a day, which in turn can be used for making palm sugar and also can be turned into ethanol which can be used for electricity for their homes), and watched as people protected the forrest growing around their crops. Now this area is thriving not only economically, but also ecologically, and of course the orangutan population is no longer in danger. If you have time check out the talk he gave (in the link at the top of the page), it is truly inspiring!!!
I suggest everyone get involved in Willie's plan to help save the world, whether it is buying palm sugar (which also has some amazing health benefits as compared to white sugar), donating food or money to Tasikoki or just getting educated on what can be done. We can change the world on step at a time, even if you start by shovelling poop!!





Today I am off to Bunaken, an island north of here to lounge on the beach and scuba dive for a couple of days before I head back to Australia.




Me and Bemo, the center's loved dog










The view from the center

That was easy

Every book I read before I set off around the world perpetuated the American belief that travelling is difficult, trying and sometimes even scary. If someone had told me that travelling was so easy, I would have done it a long time ago. The books told me to pack light, but you rarely actually have to carry your pack, so I think a little bigger would have been better. The books told me to bring durable shirts and pants, but clothing is so cheap here in Asia I have bought and thrown out more items than I brought. They worried me about visas (how long they take, how much they cost), but same day visas for any country can be bought for less than $50 at any travel agency. Long story short, travelling is easy. Almost everywhere there are Internet cafes to book travel and correspond, people are always willing to help you, there are other travellers all around to meet up with, amazing guest houses for $5-$20 a night, and pretty much everyone speaks English (or tries to.) Although some people I know have had some misfortunes, (knock on wood) I haven't had anything stolen, haven't gotten sick, haven't had any botched travel plans, and overall have been pretty lucky. It is nice to know that today there is NO place I am scared to go. I told my mother that when I head to South America I am going to visit Columbia, to which of course she replied "OVER MY DEAD BODY" as I might get kidnapped with all the drug wars going on, but then again she also told me I was going to be sold into sex trafficking if I came to Asia (which I obviously wasn't, not yet anyway.) Travelling is not what I thought it was going to be, it's easier.


After a relaxing night in Hanoi I caught an early morning flight to Bali, with a layover in Kuala Lampur. On the plane ride to Bali I met Craig, an Englishman who I would end up travelling with for the next week. He was the only lone traveller I saw so I asked him if he wanted to share a cab and later a hotel room (it is that easy!) Off the plane we headed to an area called Kuta, AKA. Australian Party Central, where it is high season for thousands of Australian tourists. The street blocks are small, lined with shops selling clothing, knock-offs and other souvenirs, massage parlors, restaurants, guest houses and surf shops. Since the streets are so small (usually there is only room for one car) the traffic is horrible which leads to tons of beeping, motorbikes driving on the sidewalk, and cars blocking every turn. There are at least 50 bars and clubs blaring music, and begging you to come in for a free drink. The beach is gorgeous, but had so many tourists and people selling you things (massages, bracelets, bow and arrows (!), that it didn't make for a relaxing afternoon. We rented boogie boards and tried to brave the massive waves, and peeped in on a beach wedding that was going on at a local resort.



Over the next couple of days we rented a motorbike and drove outside of the city. Since I unfortunately left my Southeast Asia Lonely Planet on the plane, I can't tell you specifically where we went, but I'll do my best. We drove to a town called Ubud, and to the coastal town of Nusa , all the time admiring the beautiful pagodas and statues which are everywhere, and the idyllic scenery - inland jungles and rice paddies with massive volcanoes rising in the distance and amazing ocean views from the coast (and of course don't forget the occasional Dunkin Donuts and KFC.) We stopped off at couple of beaches to lounge, eat, and take pictures, but spent most of the day cruising. At night we went to dinner, walked the chaotic streets of Bali and even danced one night away at the popular local night club "Sky Bar."


After spending 3 days in Bali, I wanted to head to the Gili Islands to do some scuba diving, so Craig and I caught an early morning shuttle bus to the dock (where it seemed each of the drivers was racing to get us there, weaving in and out of traffic, etc., only to tell us "30 minute breakfast break" upon arrival), then a 2 hour boat ride on "Gili's Island's fastest transport", to the largest of the three Gili Islands, Trawangan. I thought I had seen some beautiful beaches until I got here - white sand, light blue water, and in the distance those same beautiful volcanoes.

The island itself is quite small (it takes about 1 hour to walk around), with one dirt road that doesn't allow cars or motorbikes (horse-drawn carriages only) lined with shops, guesthouses and restaurants. We did some scuba diving, lying on the beach and lots of eating. Although still touristy I thought it was an amazing get-away. After 4 days Craig and I parted ways, me back to Kuta to catch a VERY early morning flight to Manado, while he stayed in Paradise heading to another Gili Island (there are 3) called Gili Air.




I arrived here in Tasikoki Wildlife Rescue Centre near Manado on Sulawesi Island two days ago, where I plan to spend 2 weeks volunteering before I head back to Australia to live for a couple of months. All I have to say is, "my vacation is over" - with lots of animal poop, sweat and bugs I am no longer living in paradise!

What came first, the tourist or the change?

During the third week of August, every year, "out-of-towners" would swarm into my hometown of Bridgewater possibly the smallest town in the state of Connecticut, for the annual County fair, stopping in front of my house to ask stupid questions like "where is the Bridgewater Fair?" and "are we in Bridgewater?", while the lights, sounds and smells of the event were clearly just steps away. These types of questions would send me into fits of giggles, thinking "how could these people be so dumb", and of course, left me appreciative that this tourist attraction was only for 3 days a year. As I invade small towns all over Southeast Asia, yelling questions to people, like "where is food" (as I make fast hand to mouth gestures) and "is that the border to China?" (pointing rapidly with my finger) I realize I am far worse than any Bridgewater Fair tourist - I don't even speak the right language. Being in Asia for the past 4 months and seeing what a wonderful place it is, I want to tell people from all over the world to come visit, plan your next vacation here but wonder, does Asia really need more tourists? I spent the last 3 days in Sapa, a little city perched in between the mountains of northwest Vietnam, surrounded by small minority villages. Every morning van loads of tourists pour into the town, where the villagers flock from miles around to sell their crafts and trekking trips, asking you over and over again "you buy from me?", waiting outside restaurants looking longingly at you, until finally after sheer frustration and hours of them following you, you buy an ugly scarf they hand made (and subsequently another scarf because the lady next to her says "why you no buy from me, you buy from her?") Although the villagers say they like tourists because we bring money, I have to assume that Sapa and the surrounding villages were fine before we arrived. As a tourist I never intend to change the places I visit, but over time places change to suit traveller like me, sometimes drastically. As much as I want the rest of the world to see Asia, with every tourist a piece of Asian culture, history and beauty is taken away, which are the reasons we visit in the first place. It seems to be an endless cycle of "what came first, the tourist or the change?", to which I do not have an answer, or a solution for the future. All I can say is that I am happy I got to see Asia the way it is today, before it changes any further.


After spending $150 on custom-made clothing in Hoi Ann, I needed to get out of there (before I bought more) so I headed to the city of Hue, a 5 hour bus ride north along the coast. Another bustling Asian city set on the Song Huong River, which served as the political capital from 1802 - 1945, is described as "the intellectual, spiritual and cultural capital of Vietnam."

All over the city, and on the outskirts, are crumbling citadels and opulent tombs of the previous emperors. I only had one day to explore so my new friend Tom and I took a motorbike to see some of the tombs, ruins and pagodas, a Japenese covered bridge and a demonstration from a local on how to harvest rice. That night I remembered why I don't stay in dorms anymore when one of my fellow 14 dorm-mates threw up all over herself and the wall - great!



That night I caught a sleeper bus (to those who aren't familiar, this bus seats about 40 people but all the seats recline to a comfortable snoozing position) to Hanoi. Much to my dismay I stayed at another hostel, and while there met some girls I would end up travelling with for the next 6 days.

We spent that day wandering around the chaotic city of Hanoi, and that night watching a traditional Water Puppet show (on the stage is a large square pool of water where puppets perform), which may have been fairly interesting had I known what they were saying, but turned out to be not interesting at all. Even the traditional Vietnamese music wasn't appealing, since ALL the sleeper bus blare this high-pitched singing all night long.



The following day a bunch of us headed to Halong Bay on a 2 day tour hosted by Hanoi Backpackers. Halong bay, unlike any beauty I have ever seen, lies in the Gulf of Tolkin, and as you look out over the water you see 3,000+ oddly shaped rocks jutting into the sky , some even with holes and tunnels in them from the rain and wind. Unfortunately the Hanoi Backpackers trip is pretty much a "booze cruise" and despite the sombreros we had to wear, the forced drinking games and late night antics, I still was able to thoroughly enjoy myself and the scenery.


After a tiring bus ride back to Hanoi, we caught the overnight train to Sapa. I can only describe Sapa and it's surrounding villages as a combination of The Lord of the Ring's Shire and a super-advanced golf course.

Rice patties in layered tiers line every lush, green mountain, while white clouds perch at the top. As you wind through the mountains, you look down into the valley at the small villages that line the river. We had an all-female motorcycle gang for two days as we toured through the mountains and spent our third day trekking to a local village, all while being closely followed by the locals and their crafts.

Although the town of Sapa was quite picturesque, the street we stayed on was so narrow that ALL morning and night drivers would beep (that is what they do here in Asia, beep, a lot) and the street sellers would wait outside for you, accosting you the second you stepped outside. Overall the trip was amazing and fun, but not exactly relaxing.


After the night bus dropped us off back in Hanoi at 3:30 in the morning (thanks for that), I splurged and checked into a nice guesthouse with air conditioning and a TV for a whopping $16 a night. I spent the first day relaxing and watching TV and today my Australian friend Mick and I rented a motorbike and while he braved driving through the city traffic, I sat entertained on the back. We attempted to go to see Ho Chi Min's body, but it was closed. We went to the Ho Chi Min Museum but were told 15 minutes after arriving that they were closing (right in the middle of the day), and lastly when our 2 hour drive to the perfume pagoda turned into a 4 1/2 hour EPIC adventure (which included a lot of karaoke to Willie Nelson's "on the road again" "and we're back on the road again" "and we're back on the right road again") we finally arrived to everything being closed. Overall though, it was a great last day in Vietnam. Oh did I mention the Australian restaurant we wanted to go to was closed as well?

I am currently in the Hanoi Airport on my way to Bali, where I will stay for 10 days!

Vacationing in "Nam"

Vacationing through Vietnam certainly begs the question; could my children vacation to Iraq in 30 years time? I am sure my parents never imagined that I would be enjoying the chaotic buzz of Saigon, the white rolling sand dunes of Mue Ni, or the beautiful "Miamiesque" beaches of Nha Trang , all in Vietnam, a country that was the site of warfare and bloodshed just a few centuries ago, but I am. Vietnam is truly amazing, and the farthest thing from what I imagined. Every traveler has their opinion of certain countries or cities, and after receiving them, I discard them immediately. I have yet to find a place I haven't liked, and find that by keeping non-existent expectations I always end up pleased. Vietnam is no exception, but despite what people told me the jungled war-torn "Nam" of my youth was all I could envision, but it has been eye opening seeing the other side of the coin. Vietnam has a lot more infrastructure than Cambodia or Laos. As you drive through the patch worked countryside of fields and rice paddies, you see concrete houses, paved roads, and lamp posts. Vietnam borders the Pacific Ocean (the Vietnamese do not like it being called the South China Sea) which means stunning beach vistas at every turn. I thought some of the other Asian nations had a lot of motorbikes until I came to Vietnam where 60% of the population is said to drive motorbikes (but here at least people actually wear helmets.) While some travellers said the street sellers and people were unfriendly and persistently hostile, as long as I keep my spirits up with them, they have been nothing but pleasant (even knowing that I am American.) The only thing that hasn't been amazing, is the power outages. Due to lack of rain, Vietnam sells its electricity to Cambodia, so every other day entire cities lose power (which means cold dinners, hot sleeping conditions and dark nights) - ugh!

The first thing I did when I got to the Chaotic Ho Chi Min City was find Rego (my former travel buddy), who had been staying in the city for a couple of weeks watching the world cup, eating, drinking and sleeping (lots!) I peeled him out of bed and dragged him to some of the sites. First we headed to the Cu Chi tunnels, a 200km tunnel system outside of the city which housed the Viet Cong while they ran an effective ground operation during the war, where you can crawl through part of the tunnels (which have been widened for the westerners), shoot an AK-47 for 30,000 dong a bullet ($1 = 18,000 dong) and see the horrific jungle traps that were built and used on the American Soldiers.

The videos and commentary were clearly anti-American, and when I went to the War Remnants Museum later that day, I was not proud to be an American. I remember growing up hearing my mother speak of her neighbor and other friends who died in the Vietnam War, and even going to the Washington DC memorial to etch one of the soldier's names onto a piece of paper. What no one told me was that while we lost 50,000 people in the war, Vietnam lost 3 million (2 million of which were innocent civilians) not to mention the hundreds of thousands of people that live with the side effects of the chemicals, like Agent Orange, that we poured into their country. I realize there are two sides to every war, and like the protesters of the past, I do not want my children to look back on our current political situation with the same shame that I have to bear today. War is not the answer, then or now.

While in Ho Chi Min City, I also checked out the neo-Romanesque Notre Dame Cathedral and the Reunification Palace (built in 1966 to serve as the Presidential Palace, this was where the first Communist tanks crashed when the South surrendered to the North).

A day trip to the Mekong Delta, a series of islands that lie where the base of the Mekong River meets the Pacific Ocean, included a boat trip down one of the many rivers (with a funny cone hat on), watched (and tasted) coconut candy being made, played with a snake and drank honey bee tea while watching a traditional song and dance performance. After convincing Rego there will be other places in the country showing the World Cup, we headed north to Mui Ne.

Mui Ne is one long road parallel to the beach with lots of cute little restaurants, guesthouses, resorts and beachy shops.

The white sandy beach had lots of wind, so much that kite surfing schools have popped up all over the town, (there were about 50 surfers to every swimmer.) The only problem with Mui Ne was that there were no people there, and had I not been with Rego finding a friend would have proved difficult. On our second day in Mui Ne we rented motorbikes and cruised out to the "sahara of Vietnam", white and red sand dunes that oddly juxtapose the mountainous and beach landscape.

When we got there people charged us to park our bikes, charged us for plastic mats to sled down the mountain, and 3 little girls carried our sleds, showed us how to do it, offered to take our pictures, and then demanded 20,000 dong each at the end. The sweaty afternoon of sand sledding and bike riding and a hilarious night of attempting to get around in the flooded road after a severe rain storm, was well worth the stop in Mui Ne.

Our next stop was to the beach town of Nha Trang. A gridded city based along a beach as long as Miami's, but definitely not as clean or crowded. Some friends complained of late night robberies (although too drunk to put the scheme together, they all said money was taken out of their wallets), but overall I thought the city was nice enough. During our first day we headed to the beach and while I laid out in my bikini, the locals took swims in their shorts and shirts. That night we camped out at the local sports bar "why not?", and watched the USA world cup game.

There were 3 other Americans who helped support, but the majority of the crowd were bitter English, screaming "Go Guana" while expressing their other anti-American opinions. The following day a bunch of us headed to the Vinpearl waterpark (which included a ride in the longest over water cable car) and that night watched as the English were beat with the karma stick with their embarrassing 4-1 World Cup loss to Germany. Unfortunately Rego decided to stay in Nha Trang for another 2 weeks to watch the ENTIRE world cup (which I obviously didn't want to do), so we had to part ways again. We are hoping to see eachother again in Australia, or at my wedding day (I told him he could be one of the bridesmaids.)

I am currently in Hoi Ann, a quaint town set on the Thu Bon River. The "city" served as an international trading port as far back as the 17th century and is influenced by the Japanese, Chinese, and other European Cultures, which is apparent when walking through the narrow streets, which are lit up by colored Chinese lanterns at night. All around the city are historic Japanese and Chinese architectural sites, but what you actually find the most of are tailors - "hey lady, want a suit? How about a shirt? Nice dress lady?"

There are at least 200 tailor shops all trying to get you to custom make cheap knock-off suit, shoes, wedding dresses, anything! They have popular clothing catalogs and you point to what you want, and the next day they make it at a fraction of the cost (just without the label!)

I also took a motorbike out to the ruins of My Son (about an hour outside of the city), set under the Cat's Tooth Mountain, these remains of the Cham empire were not breathtaking, but the scenery around them was well worth it. On the bike ride home I got a real taste of the Vietnamese "wet season", and the rain everyone's been waiting for. We felt a few drops of rain, so we pulled over and bought ponchos, which reminded me of another Goos family holiday to Bermuda when we were forced to wear these ugly "garbage bags" everywhere because we never had a vacation without rain. As the monsoon poured down on us, children came out to play in the flooded streets and screamed as we passed. Even though raindrops at 40mph is a little painful, this memorable experience was actually kind of fun!


Tomorrow I am headed north up the coast to Hue, then to Hanoi the following day!

To Give or Not to Give, That is the Question

When I budgetted for my world trip I didn't account for my bleeding heart. After a fun-filled night of playing trivia, drinking, and laughing, I head back to my guesthouse in Siem Reap. As I walk back a young girl, shirtless with torn pants and a dirty face jumps into my arms, while another girl grabs onto my hand. For a second I am reminded of a Goos family holiday taken back in 1995 to Italy when my dad, wearing a "fanny-pack", was robbed by a mob of seemingly innocent children, so I search for my wallet - it'still there. They start chanting to me "hungry, food, hungry, food, food, food"; I mean this is the stuff of my nightmares, and I say to them "sure I'll buy you some chocolate or chips", which are words I'm sure they don't understand, so I carry them into the convenience store. The second I walk through the sliding door, in what seems like a well rehearsed scheme, they walk over to the baby formula and hand me a $17 canister, this time chanting "for baby, please, for baby." (I have since learned the scam is to return the formula to the store and get the money, after I've walked away with my do-good-for-others feeling.) Needless to say, I left the convenience store having bought the formula AND plenty of chocolate, chips and candy. Cambodia is a country stricken with poverty, and everywhere you go people want your money. From the constant berage of "hey lady, tuk-tuk? where you go? motorbike?" the second you step off of a bus or leave a restaurant, you could even have just gotten off a tuk-tuk; to land mine mutilated people selling books and postcards out of a basket that hangs around their neck, surrounding you when you sit down to eat a meal; or restaurants yelling you the specials on drinks and food as you walk by. I have since spent money on $10 worth of school supplies for the orphanage I am teaching at and $18 for last-day presents to the children, a $10 donation to an orphanage in Siem Reap, over $14 on books from street sellers, $10 on pencils for the school at the floating village, and the list goes on. I have had many a heated debate with other travellers as to whether or not it benefits people to give them money. I ussually conclude the debate by saying "Well, you think the money we give goes to bad things like drugs and alcohol, and I think the money goes towards good things like food and education. Since we will never know the truth, I will keep thinking it it goes towards good things." As I drive through the country I often consider the impact a small monetary donation from each US citizen would have on the population here in Cambodia - it would be big. I think the answer to the question is, GIVE.


In my last couple of days in Siem Reap I hung out at a rooftop pool (which cost and astronomical $11 for a couple of hours compared to the $6 a night I was splitting for a guesthouse ), met up with my friend Tim from college for dinner, and visited an orphanage where I fell in love with a little boy named Tye.

The following day Jodi and I set out on a morning bus to Battambang, which my lonely planet describes as "home to Cambodia's best-preserved French-period architecture", but I just felt like it was another busy Asian city. With a central market selling fried bugs and spiders, squirming fish in buckets, eggs containing dead baby chickens, hand made scarfs, and knock-off purses, and the typical asian traffic (swarms of motobikes, tuk-tuks, cars and cyclos going in all directions), we decided not to spend too much time there. On our first and only afternoon in Battambang we took a tuk-tuk ride out to the countryside.

One of the main tourist attractions is a bamboo train, which is basically an old railway line that now provides the locals with means of transporting their goods - atop a bamboo mat on transportable wheels, so if anyone is coming in the other direction the cart with the least amount of goods has to get everyone and everything off, break down the bamboo train and let them pass. The best part of this bumpy ride was stopping at a little "village" where they forced us to eat fried banana chips and drink soda while I rose to celebrity status introducing the children to my iPhone.

On the way back we stopped to see homes where they make bamboo cakes (they put coconut milk, rice and black beans into a stick of bamboo and cook it over a fire), rice paper and Cambodian "cheese" (this is not cheddar people, its made from fish!)


The following morning we left Battambang and decided to stop in a place called Pursat, a town off the beaten backpacker path. When we got off the bus we were accosted by people trying to get us into their guesthouse, and after we found a place and started our walk around town, the looks of escaped zoo animals began. Clearly there aren't a lot of white people in Pursat because we were the afternoon entertainment. While most of the children would scream hello to us, the adults mostly gave questioning, unfriendly looks.

Pursat has another bustling market, lots of motobikes, garbage strewn all over the streets (in Cambodia most people cannot afford to have their rubbish picked up so they just throw it on the ground, out the window of their car, etc.) and a couple of old temples.

We took a scenic 45 minute tuk-tuk ride through the countryside, with bamboo homes, water buffalo, rice padies, and screams from children when they caught a glimpse of us. We ended up at another floating village, which was far less touristy than the last one, but still had a floating gas station, mobile phone shop and lots of smiling locals. After an early night, we took a morning bus to Phnom Pehn.




What I didn't know about Cambodia shocks me. Between 1975 and 1979 the Khmer Rouge, at the hands of leader Pol Pot, killed approximately 1,700,000 Cambodian people in acts of mass genoicide (1/3 of the population!!) With radical Marxist ideas Pol Pot murdered any person who was not a simple working peasant (including anyone with an education, governmental position, city job, etc.) One of the books I bought from a crippled street seller is called "First they Killed my Father", and I highly reccomend it to anyone interested in Cambodian history.

WIping tears from my eyes, this book explained how the Khmer Rouge told the people living in Phnom Pehn that the US was going to bomb the city, so the people were evacuated to surrounding villages where they were starved, and eventually murdered in truly violent ways. In the center of Phnom Pehn a former high school was turned into a prison called S-21, which is now a torture museum documenting the horrific acts of the Khmer Rouge .

About 30 minutes outside of town are the killing fields of Choeung Ek, where most of the 17,000 detainees of S-21 were executed. The memorial stupa which stands in the center of this rolling field displays over 8,000 human skulls, bringing to life the reality of this atrocity. Many of the locals I meet and even the orphans I teach have lost parents and other relatives to the Khmer Rouge. Considering the history of this war-torn country, I think Cambodia is doing pretty well.


Phnom Pehn also has a casino (where I won $8, and subsequently a few nights later lost $10), a royal palace, 3 markets (the Russian market, Central market and the Night Market), lots of great restaurants lining the esplanade which runs along the Mekong River, massage parlors ("hey lady, you want massage, good deal for you"), and thousands of tuk-tuks, motorbikes, cyclos, busses and street sellers (hey lady, where you go? you need a ride, good deal for you.)


After seeing some truly strange and ridiculous things here in Phnom Pehn I adopted a new motto, "why not."

For example: Why not wear your pajamas all day long? People all over this country wear two-piece, ridiculously patterned pajamas, all day, everyday. Or, why not wash your hands with a coke? Yes, I saw someone doing this. Or, why not drive on on the wrong side of the road? Whether taking a left hand turn immediately or in 4 miles, someone turning left onto a road instead of crossing traffic to get into the right lane, will pull into the oncoming traffic lane and ride there for as long as they feel like it. This, and not having stop signs or stop lights at intersections makes for a very strange, but organized chaos. Lastly, why not wear long sleeve pants and shirts, gloves and hats in 100 degree weather? The people here are so afraid of getting sun that they wear as much clothing as they can (not to mention all their face creams have whitening in them, which is pretty annoying for someone who likes to have a tan!)



The best part about my stay in Phnom Pehn has been my experience teaching English at an orphanage for the last week. Although I intended to head south to the coast for my last days in Cambodia, I couldn't pass up this opprotunity to work with the local children. I have been teaching two classes of 20 children, ranging in age from 4 to 15, basic English (sounds of letters, dictation, word recognition, etc.) Some of the older kids just want to practice their English, and during the conversation hour ask basic questions ("Do you have a boyfriend" is always a favorite, and one even asked me to sing "My Heart Will Go On" from The Titanic, which I did, horribly.) I truly enjoy teaching. Maybe it's a future career path?



On Sunday the 20th I am off on my own again, to Ho Chi Min City, Vietnam. My former travel buddy Rego is there, and I am hoping I can convince him to travel north with me. I will spend twenty days in Vietnam, before my July 10th flight to Bali, Indonesia.

Pickled

I am in a pickle. I have only been travelling for 5 months but the vagabond lifestyle I have been experiencing has become so addictive, I am not sure I will ever be able to return to living a "normal" life. Countries I used to think were in lands far, far away, are now places I feel comfortable. The idea of travelling alone which used to send me into a panic, now seems like the best way to travel. Staying in one place for an extended amount of time, doing the same thing over and over again now seems boring. Travelling, seeing different places, experiencing unique cultures, meeting new people all the time, are elements of my current life that I don't want to give up. I am so scared to walk through the door of my family home in CT and have my mom to say to me "So, what's your plan? All your stuff is in boxes, and we need to do something with it. Where will you live? What will you do for work?" For someone who has not had a plan in 5 months, and operates on the motto of having the "NO plan, plan", I wonder if I will ever be able to adjust back to the way life used to be... Maybe i will, but I think once a pickle, never again a cucumber. Fortunately I have another 10 months to prepare.

I am currently in Siem Riep, Cambodia, after spending 20 days in Laos. I booked a flight from Hanoi, Vietnam to Bali, Indonesia on July 10th, which means I have a little over a month to see both Cambodia and Vietnam, so even though I would have loved to stay in Laos longer, I have to keep moving.

After my last post I spent another day in Luang Prabang, rented bicycles, toured some temples, spent the afternoon at the waterfalls (again), and a night watching Sherlock Holmes at a guesthouse's outdoor theater. The next day we got a 12 hour bus ride to Laos' capital city Vientiane, another former French settlement perched on the banks of the Mekong. The Bible (my Lonely Planet guidebook) tells me the city becomes more sophisticated every year, and I can see many western additions popping up (coffee shops, restaurants, huge hotel resorts being built on the river).


Although many of my fellow travelers felt Vientienne was just another bustling city, my three days consisted of a visit to the Buddha Park (a green field filled with concrete statues of Buddhas, alligators, temples, and other structures that make for great photo opportunities), a quick stop at the Loas National Museum (where I was horrified to learn that an estimated 260 million "bombies" were dropped in Laos in the late 1960s, 70 million of which failed to explode and continue to plaque the nation's people), a $100 visit to the Australian Embassy to have my burn looked at (my mother is happy, my bank account is not),

a sightseeing trip to the Golden Temple and Vientiane's Arc deTriomphe replica (made from cement donated by the USA - woo hoo, maybe this makes up for all the bombs we dropped), and a couple rounds of bowling at one of the city's two bowling alleys.

You know how it feels when you are sitting anxiously on an airplane waiting to see who your seat-partner is going to be, each person who rounds the corner of different size, shape, and smell invokes horrifying thoughts of how you will spend your upcoming hours. Well now imagine that you have to sleep next to that person for 12 hours. Welcome to the Vientiane to 4,000 Island Sleeper Bus, a double decker bus with 12 beds each housing two people (and if you're alone you're out of luck in picking your partner.) After a brief panic session, a few times of saying "absolutely not", and some desperate pleas to people using movies and cookies as bait, I ended up with a friend I met briefly at my guesthouse (it beat the other options!) But, it still wasn't relaxing rolling around (literally), in a bed with someone you barely know.

4,000 islands is a cluster of islets and sandbars at the end of the Mekong (which really should be named 12 islands, 3,088 grassy patches).

We spent the first two nights at the largest island Dhon Khong, which although 5 times the size of the other islands, there wasn't much going on. With the least amount of Falang (white people), it had an untouched feel, and driving our motorbikes around the flat island, sprouting with raised bamboo homes, water buffalo and decaying temples, felt real. After two nights of going to bed at 8pm, we decided to head to Dhon Det, a more touristy island about 45 minutes down the river via boat.

We spent our days baking in the heat, lounging in hammocks, tubing, bike riding to the other island Dhon Kohn to see a huge waterfall, and our nights watching the sunset, eating at one of the many restaurants, and "partying" in a tiny village which shuts down early.



Since the native waitstaff seem to prefer spending their time watching TV and sleeping, I even spent one night "working" at a local restaurant, bringing people beer, food and menus, while my friends watched with smiles.

The bus ride from Dhon Dhet to Siem Riep was pretty awful. We got picked up at 8am, waited in the boiling sun until 11am for our bus to pick us up, and then after a inopportune trip to the bathroom, I ended up sitting on a plastic chair in the aisle for a 20 minute trip to the border. When we got off I ran through the check-point where corruption allows each person who touches your passport to charge you $1 (yes, they use American dollars here in Cambodia), so I could get an actual seat on the bus. I sat down next to my friend, but when the original seat owner came back a battle ensued, and eventually I had to sit back on the plastic chair for an hour until someone got off the bus. One idiot slept through the checkpoint so we had to wait for him, all of which resulted in a 12pm arrival time in Siem Riep.

Siem Riep has been built up to serve tourists visiting the temples of Angkor, the eight wonder of the world. I hadn't heard anything about the city itself, but was pleasantly surprised. Small streets lined with french-inspired restaurants offer amazing decor and menus (at a fraction of the cost), another huge market selling knock-off's, fresh food and other native souvenirs, and lots of falang. My crew and I got up at 4:30am yesterday to watch sunrise at the Ankor Wat temple, and like any other popular tourist site I was a little disgruntled with my experience. Hundred of people shuttle through the site and line up to get the perfect picture, and then some chick in an all white suit decides to walk onto the temple and become a permanent white blob in your photographed memory. Even though the ruins were amazing, by 10am we were all "templed out", and headed back to our guest house to nap. That afternoon we took a tuk-tuk out to the floating village, 300+ boat houses of Cambodians who fled the Khmer Ruge and 30 years later have stayed on the water. We were inundated by boat-bound beggars, with crying children of all ages chanting "one dollar, one dollar", to which no amount of money we gave was enough. We even bought $5 pencils to give to the floating school, but still left feeling like there has got to be a better way to give to these impoverished people.

My current crew is breaking up within the next couple of days, and my path will take me south. First to Battambang, then Pursat, Phnom Penh, and eventually to the beaches and islands off the southern Cambodian coast before heading into Vietnam around the 20th.