Roma is in the Air!

Roma backwards spells "Amor".  Through her never ending and shockingly supernatural powers of observation, Morgan deduced this notion from an inside-out scarf hanging from neck of a passer-by.  And that has been the theme hear throughout Italy, Love.  Though our shamefully short tour of Italy was over in three days, we still got a descent taste of the infamous Italian culture.

The Colosseum rendured us speechless while the Sistine Chapel had us dreaming of lying on the floor while getting lost in our thoughts as we stared at Michelangelo's masterpiece. Though, had we yielded to our dreams we would have been trampled by the shoulder to shoulder stampede of tourists. Amazing how much traffic they let through the Vatican city.

To save money and the sheer fact that we are constrained by time, Morgan and I have been taking local buses around like a guided tour. We don't have a guide of course but the sights are breathtaking. And we might not get to go inside all of the churches, I mean cathedrals, now but we also know we well be coming back one day.

Florence was great, even in two hours. We just walked around getting lost and spontaneously amazed. Amazing buildings and cathedrals that seem impossible to have been built centuries ago. The early morning train from Rome had me craving gelato. So I indulged at 9 am. Now, I think Morgan is far more dissapointed with our time hanicap beacuse of the lack of exposure to the museums and historical attractions. But for me, the lack of time is eating away at my culinary exposure. Some of my favorite dishes will just have to wait for my return. But let me tell you, unreal pizza and pasta, ,obviously.

Venice is my favorite thus far. The interlinking canals, waterway foot bridges, and quaint movie-worthy hotel and restaurants have me enchanted. We opted out of the famous "gondola" tours and supplimented them for a cheap water taxi. It did the trick while leaving money for a nice river front dinner later on. Morgan is thrown by the late sunsets and plentiful wine. I enjoy the train rides that perview us to the rolling vine covered country sides. We were fined $50 euro for not filling out our "Eurail" passes properly. So that had me cursing under my breath for few minutes but I got over it. Perfect weather, perfect food, and perfect company has me smitten in Italy.  

Asian Blues

We started in Singapore at the Marina Mandrin, a lavish and expensive modern hotel. Coincidentally, we ended our Asian tour at an equally luxurious hotel in the Sukhumvit region of Bangkok, Thailand. And everything in between was equally as memorable, despite their comparitively lackluster amenities. We stayed in ice box cold air-con homestays, sweltering hot fan only rooms, and even some insect laden ones.  I remember squeeling like a child in the "toilet" after having slammed the bathroom door in Morgan's face while chasing around a giant hissing cockroach. From luxury in the massive cities to minimalistic island beach bungalows, Morgan and I have experienced it all.

I already miss the endless piles of rice. The curries, oh how I miss the curries. Green, yellow, red, or penang, life was so simple. Now I'm in Italy where the cheese and doughy delights have taken over. But more on that later.

Asia was third world, no doubt. But the magestic places, wonderful locals, and unpredictable cultural experiences are first class.  Amazing animals, world class surf, and paradise islands are but a few of the memorable highlights.

Morgan and I traveld through Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Our last week was a mix of Halong Bay island cruising and Bangkok market eating, sugar glider petting, and endless clothes shopping meandering.  We didn't hit everything we had hoped to in Asia, but we also got much more than we bargained for.   

Is Vietnam the Motorbike Capital of the World?

Well, so far in my world it is. After a nice stay in Sihanoukville, Cambodia (a beachy kinda place where you take boat tours to exotic islands and drink beer out of a snorkel with the Bavarian captain) Morgan and I passed through the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh on our way to Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon. We took an overnight bus which got us to the boarder early in the morning. And it wasn't long after getting into Vietnam that we realized the motorbikes. We were passing the international airport of Saigon and there seemed to be a frontage road or some sort of designated motorbike road running parallel to us. It was like flowing water, a mud slide, or maybe a horizontal avalanche.

The amount of bikes roaming the city was shocking! If the busses, cars, and suv's were the boulders in the river then the motorbikes were the raging rapids. They passed on the left, the right, and I'm sure they'd go right over the top of you if they could. When you need a taxi you just hale a bike. Most likely some random guy looking for an extra buck, who knows? Morgs and I went to the War Memorial Museum in this manner. The guys turn into on coming traffic. And not just the wrong lane but head on into a stampead of Vietnamese. We tucked our knees in, I snapped off photos, and Morgan had this look on her face. I'm not nervous, just bewildered. They run red lights...but not without blurting their horns irradically. "I'm coming through, you can't stop me, and you better watch out" they seemed to say. You know that blonde joke with 4 of them at a four way stop at the same time...anyway, you get those scenarios. People are just cut throat. It's a bike eat bike world out here and if you aren't ready, you'll get swallowed.

Vietnam is the place where you see a dad with no helmet racing through the streets with his 6 year old helmetless daughter on the back, beeping through red lights, swerving into on coming traffic after dodging a stopped cargo truck in his lane, and doing it all while on his cell phone. Morgan and I didn't even mention it to each other. It seemed standard, normal, necessary even. I just took a mental note thinking it would be a good excerpt in my blog! 

I have riden a motorbike in every country I've visited in Asia.  Singapore doesn't count ;). I've been on the left side and the right side of the road. Gone over hills covered in mud, pot holes, and rocks. I've dodged cows, playing children, and kamakazi woman bikers with no headlights in the middle of night. And I'm so so thankful for all of these occurances becuase I'm not sure I could have survived in Vietnam on the bike without them. But if you need water or some snacks. If you want to visit a museum or the beach. If you need to get custom made clothes and shoes designed...you're better off renting a motorbike. They are cheap and super convenient. And ripping through Hanoi at night after the cinema is such a great and unforgettable experience. We were lost then found. Stopped and ate "pho" then went to the "fivimart" and grabbed snacks. We got lost and pulled over. Got found but then lost again. And finally, Morgan and I made it back to the Luxe Hotel on our red manual shifting motorbike. I just ate a box of "Jessica" sugar saltine crackers and wrote this blog...cheers Vietnam!

Floatation!

The lonely planet guide book of southeast asia specifically said and warned that this attraction has become a floating "scam." A tourist trap! Well, despite my agreeing with the book, it was still and will remain one of the my most memorable experiences on this trip. The entrance fees are dependant on your bargaining abilities and acompanied tuk tuk escort. Your picture is taken by an unsightly and heavy set local as you exit the large admission area. The tip jars are everywhere. And even knowing what you got yourself into, a trap, it's still amazing.

Your boat and captain is a matter of luck and of the size of your party. We, Morgan and I, had a long tail boat to ourselves, which was almost identical to the boat Sylvester Stallone drives in Rambo 4. A car engine is strapped to the boat, which is connected to a long drive shaft that turns the propeller. It's loud, vibrating, and spews out fumes. The water level was low, maybe one to two meters. You are forced to take the canal some 6 km's to the mouth of the river. The boats pass opposing traffic with mere inches on either side. We were expecting something like a vintage style floating WalMart from the way it sounded. Boy were we wrong.

The canal opens up to massive river. So big it seemed like an ocean. It was litteraly a floating village. The homes or house boats or whatever you call them weren't tied to one another. They boasted full kitchens, hammocks, and television sets. I was shocked when we saw the boat that had a couple hundred car batteries on the deck being charged by a gas powered generator, for the tv's! I didn't really understand the point of living on the water like that. I'm sure there is a reason. Maybe it's closer to the fish, tradition and habbit, or evading rent and taxes?

Boats were of a dark spectrum of colors. They were worn out by the sun and water, which was merky green and brown. Moss clung to the hulls. Every available space was utilized. Everything seemed to hang on the sides of the walls. Some of the homes were being tugged around to a new location. Others were up on bamboo stilts while their boat was being repaired.

So our guide boat, among many others, worked its way through the scattered floating homes to the end of the village. Then a few small canoe boats approached us. The mother, wearing a face mask, and here children, wielding descent sized boa constrictors, were beggin for money in exchange for photos. I spotted a large "o" ring pierced through the snakes' skin, presumeably to tie them up on the boats and to not lose them. Sad. Naked boys played in mud, or danced for photos, or rowed around in large tin tubs. All an act but quite a site.

Then we hopped off the boat onto the so called market. It was cramped and maybe 100 square feet. It was filled with massive 50 lb sacks of rice, 100 pack bundles of cereal, and other random cosco sized bulk goods. Why? Tourist market (locals don't set foot in this high priced store)...The owner explained that we could purchase a large item and take it over to the floating School and feed the children. A school of 200 plus students of whom 50 were orphans. So Morgan and I obliged. It was a great experience, one I'll never forget. Morgan walked around handing out individual cereal snacks to the kids. They crossed their arms, like an American boy does when he's upset and pouting, and bowed or kirtsied to say thank you. Morgan was ear to ear. I sat back a played camera-man. She was glowing. Then we were let off at the fish cage and crocodile pin. Slopping around in the mud and water, these guys were surely just part of the act.

Morgan and I got off the boat and ascended the 50 some odd stairs up to the tourist building. We were approached by a woman with an ashtray or dish or something that had Morgan's and my photo stuck to it. We hopped back into our awaiting tuk tuk and headed back to Siem Reap, some 13 km's away.

One night in Nha Trang, Viet Nam

The writing fever finally made itself to a public place so here's my contribution... Sitting at a desk on the fifth floor of a hotel in Nha Trang. It's almost 11pm here on a Tuesday night. I rub my forearm back and forth against the desk as to avoid my overwhelming desire to put the five long nails on my left hand to good use. To dig them miles deep into the mosquito's conquering heap that so politely is sure to leave a scar. Maybe? The mosquitoes here in Vietnam have been much kinder than those in Indonesia and Thailand...and Cambodia. I can't believe I have come this far. I am even further from believing that life back home will be what it before was. In few ways surely but in many ways that count, different. I resist the scratching and go for a lonnggggg deeeepppp inhale/exhale instead. I love it here!!!!!!! I love traveling, exploring...Jay and I just walked back from the beach where we dangled our feet from our concrete seats made of wall and watched the litters of youngens rollerblading and laughing. People seem so happy here. Dad's walk their babies in the dark and Mom's walk around barefoot with their baby's in one arm and a to go container that alternately feeds the two pinched in hand. Before the park we walked through a night market. It felt like a carnival. In spirit of, Jay and I got cold drinks (Jay got his favorite Mango and Banana mixture and I went for the Iced Thai Tea which served as a duly functioning treat with loads of colorful tapioca squares mixed in)...Jay got a noodle veggie dish with phenomenal little bitlets of celery mixed in and I went for a long shot and slowly ordered with intention, "Crawwkk-O-. Please" and bowed my head. He repeated, suggested rice, and I went for a veggie mix instead. The croc was good!! I asked Jay if it could have possibly been chicken. "No, it's definitely more gamey." Anytime one gets to use the word 'gamey' is a night to remember. Or at least worth taking the time to pick up blogging again...I only managed three bites but the green bell pepper had a particular perfection to it and I walked away satisfied.  Right by the stand where we ate dinner was a bridge...not just any random in the middle of a night market bridge...this bridge carried it's own full time television series. Not that anyone was getting paid but the drama seemed centered around this bridge in such a way that we witnessed a hoochily dressed bon voyage hat wearing local number snapping away pictures of herself perched atop the bridge...then a teenage daughter being yelled at and chased through the crowd by her irate mother...then chased back in the other direction where there is a brief PAUSE mid scene to reveal a younger brother whom directly seems to earn an open handed echoing SLAP across somewhere...then a younger gent crosses the bridge in his suit...the five children look for frogs in the pool of water under the bridge (it was made for something, right?)...and as we turned our backs to the script that we so surely fit into...a family of many put on smiles as they lined up for a photo. We made our way passed the stands of colorful glitzy this and that's of nothing with a few wood carving too expensives and too big to carries...Jay seems to meet his polar opposite and, hips first, pulls toward a stand with a million glitz and jingles. I see his eyes meet the stack of jade bracelets and I'm flattered that he so badly wants to spoil me. Back at home, when my Mom takes me to get my nails done (missing that ever so slightly ,-)) there is a Vietnamese woman named Lani that sometimes does my nails. Pronounced Lan (like Pan) i (be excited...eeeeeeee!!) Lani. She's such a doll and knows exactly how to use that shaper to really give your toes the not too long/not just cut look. Those hands work magic. If you could only see...ok, I'm getting sidetracked...anyway, she has this bracelet that I was instantly drawn to the first time I met her. After asking her about it, she explained that her mother put it on her when she was a baby. She has worn this stone ring around her left wrist her entire life!! Her mother got really sick at the end of last year and she was able to get back to Vietnam to see her one more time before she passed. She says that she carries her past in the bracelet and that it brings her luck in the future! I knew my mom had a jade bracelet so after months of planting seeds and dropping hints, I finally got that beauty around my wrist. Unfortunately, if the bracelet is  a little bit too big, their demise is soon to follow...and mine was. After telling Jay my story and giving a glance to every jade bracelet I have come across, Jay apparently had enough and was even more determined than I was to find the perfect one. SOooo, it was no wonder Jay was so drawn to this particular stand...It had the PERFECT JADE BRACELET!!!!!!! What a sweetheart, he pulled out his wallet and the Vietnamese girl around my age grabbed my wrist and pulled me a few stalls over where we pushed through the crowd and over some big metal sink behind some stand. Jay was no where in sight and before I knew it, I had my left hand covered in plastic, then water and next dish soap... then two Vietnamese professionals giving all of there might to this new tattoo of mine yanking and pulling. My hand was turning purple and my fingers seemed to all mush together, there was plastic slipping and moans and grunts...I'm quite sure the nearby Aussie needed a new battery because of the sluggish second hand on his wrist watch ticking at an ever so daunting and lagging pace...The girls kept working...I was certain this thing was simply too small for me. Nope, these girls have stamina and confidence like no other and before I knew it...I had myself one good looking bracelet. On. Just like that. And the Aussie's battery didn't need changing after all. I love it!! (My bracelet.) There are still red marks on my hand but the five or so minutes of struggle were worth every ounce of the pleasure this stone has already brought to me.  We've been meeting the most fun people, seeing the sights, learning the struggles that the Vietnamese faced (and still face) from the war against the US...I got a ride on a motorbike by a local that discussed Tim O'Brien with me...(discussing any topic with a local is very challenging and this gent knew the likings of an American author)...We've been riding on strange buses and sleeping in strange beds. We have been reading and playing cards, sharing life stories and finding new reasons to step out of our comfort zones. It's nice, life this way...I can honestly find nothing more than gratitude. For this experience, for all of the luxuries at home. It's good. Really good.

Temples in Cambodia

It's a swirling soup bowl of tourists.  And for every tourist there must be three tuk tuk drivers, two prostituting masseuses, and an equal amount of money-begging infant-holding 10 year olds roaming the streets barefoot. Culture shock to say the least. I've said this a few times on this trip but the adjustment process after switching countries can be shocking! The local food, as we read in the guide book, was fresh water fish in soup. Hardley our style, "fish amok" reminded me of mucky water back home in the duck ponds. It just sounded bad, looked ominous with those fish heads and bones, and yet it smelt descent.  All in all, we tried it, didn't love it, and didn't give it another chance.

The big draw to Cambodia, of course, was the famous temples of Angkor Wat. Built during the 14th century, correct me if I'm wrong, and still standing in moderate condition today. Though the recent civil war battles in the 90's resulted in the beheading of many of the statues, the temples were splendid. Lots and lots of tourists crowded the pond outside the main attraction, which was the cliche yet ideal location for the morning sunrise. Morgan and I hired a tuk tuk driver for the day, a measily $13 arrangment.

A side note. you have to be on your toes, especially in high traffic tourist areas. Tourists have money and under the principles of "perfect competition" you must know the bargaining power you posses. Many tourists, and I'll go so far to say especially the older ones (who have the coin), cause prices for services to be inflated because of their willingness to fork over the cash.  So the tuk tuk driver who wishes to start at $20 per person for the day gets a cold shoulder from me and no privelage of negotiating further. I take offense to their greed. It's not a matter of money, and never is, but rather of principal. I'm more than willing to pay the going rate for services rendered and even more willing to refuse at the onset of deception. Ok, ok, I'm done ranting. It was obviously an ordeal here in Siem Reap.  And if we had been approached by the honest, funny, and witty "Batman" tuk tuk driver a day earlier, we would have happily emplored his experience.

The temples, well the three main ones Morgan and I visited, were similar in that they were all made in sand stone but differed in character. It was fun walking the steps. We made blessings by giving thanks to our families and lit an incense at the foot of buddha. It was odd because you could feel the age, the power, and peace  in the air. But you are torn. The seriousness of it all was trumped by locals offering lattes near the pond at dawn, laughing and loud bantering of the tourists, and endless tugging, nudging, and impeeding of the cart vendors. The monkeys were cool. But oddley they were shewed away by the vendors too? 

My favorite moment was witnessing Morgan take calm as she meditated in front of the giant gold sash wearing buddha. There was a group of locals sitting directly next to the statue and were offering us, from a great distance, some sort of craft or service. But once they saw Morgan take peace, cross her legs, and free her mind, they showed respect. As if they felt guilty for having been so presumptuous for bundeling us into the "ungrateful tourist pile", the locals gave awknowledgment and nodded as Morgan rose. I couldn't control my smerk for my pride was overwhelming. Morgan managed to push aside the touristic Disenyland mentality so prevelent here and grounded herself in a classy and dignified manner. It made me proud.

We finished in a temple where the trees literally were growing out of the toops of the sandstone. It wasn't little shrubs either. Giant canopies resided above as we wandered through the maze of interconnecting corridors. Ducking overhangs and stepping over door bases as if we were navigating the inner linning of a submarine, we fared the labyrinth looking for memorable photo opportunities. Though it ws difficult to get a shot without someone in the background, we managed to capture much of the feel and beauty.  The movie "Tomb Raider" was filmed in this section of the  temples and made for an amuzement line for photo ops'.

The intricacy and detailed workmanship of the stone temples is unimaginable. Every piller, step, and doorway has been paistakingly handcrafted and detailed in some pattern. The time, dedication, and sheer number of man hours is really tough to relate to. I was amazed at the craftsmanship and will always remeber my experience at Angkor Wat.     

34 Hour Voyage to Cambodia!

It seemed like a simple and straight forward overnight bus ride to Bangkok with an early morning transfer to the Cambodian boarder. Little did we know..

It was nice that Morgan and I didn't have to get up early. The ferry from Koh Phangan didn't leave until noon, giving us plenty of time to pack, to get a meal, and to walk a mile to the Thong Sala port.  We knew it was just the day after the infamous Full moon party, so it was predicted to be quite hectic. Most of the island partiers leave for their next vacation destination, which means all of the travel prices are boosted for a week after the full moon. 

Everything appeared normal. Lots and lots of people, young tourists mostly. Ticket lines were long, taxi's were bussily shuttling around the crowds, and street venders were imminent. The effects of the heavy drinking festivities couldn't be missed. Lots of gauze bandaged feet, some poor saps on crutches, and plenty of dark sunglass wearing kids still batteling the seemlessly neverending hangovers. Right on schedule and exactly how we invisioned it.

The sun was out and a nice breeze was keeping us all cool. But it wasn't until we were on the boat that things really started to get interesting. Yeah the boat was an hour late but that's to be expected with the busy transfer day. Well, it was actually due to something else. 10 foot sloshing sea swells, obviuosly resulting from all of the storms during the past few days, were causing the captain to heed precaution thank god! The boat was headed to nearby Koh Samui, just an hour jaunt normally. But do to the angle of the swell direction and the necessary path to the sister island, the boat was recklessly swaying back and forth. Not so much as an up down feeling as it was an up and tip sidways sensation. The waves were hitting from the right side, massive waves. The boat was full and luckily we were the second people on, thus having interior air conditioned seats. But the poor dark glasses wearing types were stuck on the deck. Clinging for dear life, getting faced by sea water, and slipping along the deck, their hangover was surely lifting. The front of the boat would lift and on the way down the entire cabin harmoniously and nervously moaned "Whoooooaaa."  Morgan and I sat in the front of twenty rows of seats, directly in front of the TV. But we were all so fixated on the tumultuous seas that no one managed to hit play and the intro theme song to some arbitrary hollywood dudd looped for two hours.

The dock at Koh Samui was a sight for soar eyes.  The transfer wasn't long, just had to get the island hoppers off and the mainland seekers on.  A group of three British bloaks sat down near us. They asked how our trip over was. We explained.  Then they trumped us! "Yeah mate, so the hole cabin thought we were going to sink. The crew lifted some of the wooden floor boards and began welding the hull shut I guess. Water was flooding into the boat, it was crazy mate!" I guess we were on the lucky boat?

Eventually, our ferry, Only two hours late, managed to get us to the port on the mainland where the transfer buses were waiting to take us to Surat Thani. An hour and only one random 10 minute stop later, we turned right onto a dirt road that led to the private termial.  Right on the brown river and with plenty of standing rain water, the mozzies were buzzing. Morgan lathered a nice coat of 80% deet on and i slipped into some long pants and sleeves. The sun had set and we had only eaten breakfast at 10 am. Well it was breakfast time, though i had panang curry and rice, so delicious. 

After grabbing a 2 dollar heap of fried rice we waited patiently for bus number 2 to Bangkok.  The island dude who sold us our combination ferry/bus tickets gave us a pointer. I was to stay back with the two heavy travel backpacks while Morgan stays near the front with the daypack. The idea was for her to be the first one on the bus so as to secure the best seats, right in front on the top deck where the leg room is plentiful and the ride is smooth. Mission accomplished! Morgan was throwing elbows and after putting up with that days mayham, she meant business.

It was a descent overnight bus. The seats reclined a little and it had air conditioning. Just happy to be moving towards our destination, Morgan and I fell asleep. Well I did, like a baby after a whiskey milk, but Morgan had a cold and didn't fare as well. The 1 am stop at the cockroah infested food court was probably pointless but we ate anyways. A bowl of Veggie noodle soup and a hair too much spice. I always add too much and end up with a dripping nose, watering eyes, and Morgan laughing at my dietary plight. 

It was 9 am and the bus pulled off the freeway near some random park. It wasn't the 5 AM bus tereminal tranfer to the 7AM departing boarder bus from the McDonald's accross the street. It was a random Bangkok local who called out "Cambodia" from within the bus. I grabbed the big bags and Morgan secured our plush seats in...yup, the minivan! A lot nicer than a bus, just a different experience than we were told.  Us, a Candaian French couple, and four bro's from UC Berkeley.  The Berkeley boys were our 6th Americans we've seen in Asia. Nice to speak on common grounds for a bit.

Our carravan was zooming down the freeway. It was rainy in busy Bangkok. The roads were nice and modern, silver Mercedes weren't rare, and LA like traffic persisted. I didn't really notice the irrattic driving of our minivan captain but the Berkeley guys seemed to. Next thing I knew the driver the hit the breaks, Berkeley said "whoa!!", and Morgan & I slid into the seat infront of us...SMASH/BOOM!..."You ok, is everyone ok?" Asked the Berkeley dude with long blond hair. We were all fine, it wasn't bad, a slight fender bender involving two vehicles. Us and a hybrid Camrey driven by a business shirt wearing Bangkok'ian.

A passanger from the Camrey hopped into the minivan as both cars drove off the freeway, down a random street exit, and 10 minutes to a nowhere-near gas station. It took about an hour but the insurance crews handled everything very professionaly to my surprise. If you were to tell me about a traffic collision in Bangkok I would have invisioned a high speed pursuit ending in a dark, wet, and cramped alley by police gunfire! Luckily it was a very civilized ordeal.  The only weird things were the random gas station, the seemingly happy/smiling collided drivers, and the fact that the passangers had to exit the vehicle as it was filled with propane or something (not gasoline) from under the hood because it was dangerous for us? I don't know but we survived, kept traveling towards Cambodia, and buckled up this time.

Cambodia was another shocker, though more culturally than anything. Dropped off by the van at the boarder at the front door staps of a random restaurant. Some 50 year old Australian hippie chick was walking around with 5$ bag of crickets offering them out. Our new Cambodian boarder crossing escorts had a bit more attitude and seemed to very much disliked the Berkeley boy's immigration visa requests (to print them out at the restaurant before paying the rest of their fare).  We crossed the boarder, bought our visa upon arrivals, and got into another bus that took us to the official bus terminal. Then our escort proposed we take a private minivan for an extra 6$ a piece that would save us an hour over the bus ride. We obliged despite it feeling like a scam (which I think it was).

I starting freaking out! The driver was on the left and he took off down the road on the wrong side of the street.....wait! It's like America, the right side now. I knew it was like back home but it felt so weird. I had been driving for over a month on the left side and now it feels weird to switch again. Not sure how long it will take before it seems normal again?

The country is much poorer. The roads are dirt swept like in Peru and Bolivia.  The cars pass motorbikes and honk their horns relentlessly.  And everyone drives 100kmph over the speed limit. Aside from hopping into a tuk-tuk and securing accomodation in Angkor Siem Reap, Cambodia was effortless! Now for some sunrise temple tourism!

Koh Phangan-Full Moon Party

Pretty much the sole reason for coming to Koh Phangan island was the full moon and all the fun things that come with it. Between the great food at the outdoor markets, Morgan's first scuba dive, and buckets of libations (literally) we had an amazing week!

First off, we met a British couple on the ferry ride over. Jamie and Emily are a great people who have been traveling almost two years and just recently came from Australia. They were our dinner date couple and dancing duo beach bound full moon cohorts!

Morgan and I took another cooking class. Having the opportunity to learn the Thai style cooking was excellent. Coconut chicken soup, Phad Thai, and green curry. My favorite Thai dish, though we didn't get a chance to learn to cook it, is the Panang Curry!

I have my "open water" PADI ceritifcation but Morgan had never scuba dove before. So we rented a motorbike and cruised aimlessly up the West coast in search of some random scuba scool. Morgan pointed one out, which just happened to be a mile after the wild elephants spotting. Good eyes Morgs! We booked the class straight away becuase we didn't want to risk having an early morning after a fun night out (hangovers and scuba don't mix).  We ventured to Sail Rock.  Our Canadian scuba instructor was lively, funny, and enthusiastic. It was perfect for Morgan's first dive. She's a natural! We saw amazing creatures, my favorite being the school of a thousand Baracooda!

As far as the full moon party goes...just know that ten to thirty thousand tourists show up every month for this famous fiesta. You wear bright neon colored outfits that you purchase for a few bucks at the local markets. Drinks are served in sand buckets or pales. One half liter of booze and two cans of soda of your choice...all less than 10 dollars. There are firey rings to leap through, concussion slides of doom, and flaming jump rope.  Lots of dancing and house music as well. It was pouring rain, which only made for an even more unique experience. The rest you'll just have to come find out for yourself!

Thai-ness and what not...

It was hard leaving Indonesia, at least for me. I was on the plane thinking about all of the waves, pristine beaches, and good eats we had there. But I was equally as excited for Thailand! A new country. New cultures, new languages, new people, food, and adventures. For some reason I even like the idea of going through the immigration process just to get my stamp of the new country. I never dred the customs lines, though I hate the airport taxi rip-offs. It's innevitable but I still feel taken advantage of. And if it's innevitable, it is what it is right? Still sucks if you ask me. It cost the same amount of money to drive in a cab from the Phuket airport in Thailand, 30 minutes into Patong beach, as it did going from the Phuket bus terminal to Koh Phangnan island, a 6 hour bus ride and 2 hour ferry trip. Alarms are ringing in my head!

We arrived and it was pouring rain. Literally the "monsoon season" of Thailand. Nice planning on my part...oopse! At least it didn't last long.  As the rain was just about done, Morgan and I were standing outside on a busy street corner in Patong Beach Phuket, Thailand. A Canadian couple passing by asked if were ok. Super nice of them we thought. Obviously we looked lost and hadn't arranged for accomodation yet. This kind couple graciously showed us up an alley where they were staying and reccommended we stay above the first floor. "Why" Morgan asked? "Oh just becuase it rains a lot here and the ground level rooms tend have a lot of really big cockroaches..."

Having booked a room with all the amenities, of course on the 4th floor, we headed to the street to get dinner.  The famous strip "Th Bang-La" is like Vegas, just not as big. We passed people selling monkey's on the street. Clowns, Thai kick boxers, and Australian comedians were full fledge, vying for our attention and of course our money. "Ping pong show?" Morgan just started laughing and said "How much?!"  I was like "great, now here comes the unrelenting pedal pushing scams of Thailand!" (If you, my readers, don't know what we are reffering to, don't ask!)

Finally, after slapping away agressive and unwelcomed offers (except the monkey, that sounded cool), Morgan and I found a restaurant with lots of people. I was so excited for the  Tom Ka Gai soup and Phad Thai noodles. I was so happy to be eating excellent Thai food. It's incredible. And if you like this style of food, it's worth a visit. The Thai restaurants back home don't do it justice! Plus, it cost like 3 bucks a dish here, crazy!

The next day, after a very forgettable breakfast (stick to noodle and rice dishes), Morgan and I headed for the local outdoor market. I love markets. They are crawling with (bugs) new foods, cheap snacks, and unforgettable smells. Morgan had her first experience in Indonesia, but nothing can prepare you for a new third world market. They are all different and all have their ahh factors. Today's ahh factor was hanging pig heads, tongues, and hooves. Morgan went in for a picture and had to walk away for a couple of minutes before acclimating and then returning back to the gauntlet.  I couldn't stop laughing with the locals as we all watched Morgan explore the rawness. She was in there taking pictures, making faces, and laughing at the truely foreign experiences.

Of course I got into the weird eats again. I try to put the biggest smile on my face and ask the most odd and intrusive questions about the local fare. "What's that? Is it good? Yeah but it's green and smells weird? Are you sure I should try this? Do you eat it?" Morgan stands back with the camera and just laughs at my expressions as I chew into the unknown. Good enough to try with a smile but not good enough to take home the recipe. At least that has been my experience with most odd market eats. 

We left with a couple bags of fruit, bananas and rambuten. Off to Koh Phangnan for the full moon party!      

Ulu Watu, Bali

Morgan and I went to the local water park in Kuta, Bali. Soooo fun! I felt like a 12 year old again. We were screaming and squeeling with the kids. Going through tunnels on the vortex and up and over slippery slides we rode the rides over and over again. It was sunny, hot, and not too crowded as to force a wait in lines. My favorite was the climax, or something like that. You climbed 10 flights of stairs and then are thrown into a single person chamber. In this glass tube, barely enough room to fit me, was a retractable floor. The Indo lifeguard made silly faces and weird gestures before giving me the countdown...then I fell through the floor and about lost my lunch from the steepness and rush of this ride! So gnarly Morgan wouldn't try it ;)

We drove there on the motor bike, maybe 45 minutes through heavy traffic and face-blackening smog. Morgan and I grabbed a quick esspresso and hit the slides for a couple hours. Then went to the food court where they served our favorite spicey fried rice specials.  This was immediately followed by the two person raft slide that dumps you off into the lazy river.  It was such a random and spontaneous activity but well worth breaking up the standard day at the beach.

The waves weren't great do to the heavy winds. So a lot of our time was spent cruising around on the motorbike and enjoying our luxury hotel. Thanks Kim! We went back and forth to Balangan beach where we had originally met up with Jake upon our arrival in Bali (a few weeks back). It was nice having my bearings at this point. I was able to cruise around on the bike all over the island with great ease. Dangerous at times but it's a lot of fun just getting to different places. We even went into town and drove through a local outdoor market.  The sights and smells were strong enough to experience the whole thing from the safety of our bike though.

Our hotel, luxury in comparison to our usual accomodations, had an infinity pool and a generously attentive staff. Though the communication barrier seemed trying at times, Morgan and I really enjoyed our stay at Mamo hotel. There was even a wedding held there. The son of the family owners was married in a traditional form at the hotel. The locals, I'm assuming friends and family, all chipped in for the days of preperation. We, the guests of the hotel, were even presented a formal invitation to the ceremony and all accompanied festivities...aka the food (was my thinking at least haha)! There were elaborate handmade decorations made from tapestries and paper. The entire hotel was teaming with bright colors and Hindu decor. Hand carved wooden platforms that rose a few feet above ground on stilts were decorated accordingly and served as ceremonial places of importance. With tile floors and only 10'x10', very similar to the meditation or message platforms, the pyrimidal roofs which came to an upward facing point on the corners pleased my eyes and cultural appetite. Down the stairs, just past the dark blue tiled infinty pool, was the restaurant that had a dozen self-serve local delicacies for all the guests. I managed to try a thing or two ;)

Then an early Christmas! Morgan's mom sent a goodie bag! Filled with snacks, lotion, sunscreen, and a bunch of other essentials that are impossible to find in Asia. We layed it all out on the bed. With grins and giggely expressions, Morgan and I went through each pocket of her new backpack! Just in time before heading to Thailand. Literally, just in time. The package arrived the night before and we nearly had to take the FedEx guy hostage to get them to release the bag to us without some astronomical customs fee/bribe! The following day we left for Phuket, Thailand!  

Working out?

It's one thing to go on a two week trip to hawaii and a completely different thing to leave the country for 7 months. Obvious statement surely. But in regards to physical fitness, or lack there of, it seems to trouble both vacation types.

So you have a nice regiment going back home or at least some sort of routine or perceived one when it comes to fitness.  Whats one or two weeks of abatement going to do? I'm actually inclined to agree with this mentality and could even be convinced that it is necessary. But with this vacation type comes the variable of consumption, both food and drinks. 

On a short holiday feel free to drink and eat what you please. Even two weeks of complete disregard to both intake and exertion can be recovered shortly upon your return home. But for the long haul world traveler...not so much.

I've realized that this sort of vacation is an entirely different beast. You can't mentally check out on the fitness or consumption battle. One without the other is tolerable for some period. But to neglect both for even a short period of time has tremendous ripple effects. Ok, enough vaguery and hypotheticals. Here's what i mean...

I left on my trip this past January in peek physical condition. Aside from a tan, I was in tip top form. Very aware of my hard work and hoping to maintain it during my travels, I packed some fitness gear and brought some digital fitness workouts along too. 

I've never been a dedicated or faithful eater.  So naturally, I assumed I could carry on this way during my 7 month excursion. There will be great foods, plenty of new things to try, and no one should neglect the experience of trying them right? Well...yeah, right!  I believe that to be true, to an extent of course. My rationalized theory or goal of trying to find the best apple pie in various cities wasn't really an attraction to cultural cuisines but rather a flawed justification for nurturing my poor eating habbits. This wouldn't have been an issue had I been working out like I intended.

I went into this trip without a clarified regiment. I had no true understanding with myself of what I  really wanted to accomplish in regards to fitness on the vacation.  I just assumed it would take care of its self as it did back home. You know, how priorities seem to be fullfilled?  I didn't forsee my fitness taking a back seat on my priority list. But looking back, of course it would. Without a conscious effort to keep fitness as a priority, it will succomb to the natural course of adventure. 

I was busy meeting people, going to bbq's, and dancing to Samba music.  I was hitting the markets with my new friends tasting weird things. Fried stuff, slimmy green deals, and suger coated delicious morsals of cultural idiosyncrasies. It's so much fun!

I'm now 4 months into my trip. Im now in the worse shape I've been in over the past two years. I'm currently doing something about it!

I've started my fitness routine, finally.  I feel great. I'm soar and full of energy. Today I was doing some exercises on the tile deck just 20 feet from the ocean here in Thailand. I was slipping and slidding, sweating puddles, and huffing and puffing! People, kids on vacation ready to party hard for the full moon, just walk by and stare. In Kuta, Indonesia I was doing a routine on the beach when two little kids came up. They started mimicing me. It was hilarious. I couldn't stop laughing. And if you have ever done the "Insanity" workout you would understand why it's funny. I'm jupping side to side, hitting the deck, and splashing sand all over the place. Next thing I know, the two kids turns into 12...I'm sweating and breathing heavily. So heavily that I was grunting at moments and sure enough these 12 kids would grunt too! It was like red-light-green-light and follow the leader all in one. I was running a fitness class on the beach. The kids were laughing, smiling, and breathing hard. They asked my name, wanted to know where I was from, and if I was married. All ages, from 3 to 14. I had a captive audience and I wish it got filmed.

The thing is, it's really embarrasing to workout on vacation, especially when traveling on a budget. You can't work out in the hostel dorm or in the comunal tv room. So go outside and find a park. Well, I'm 6'2" and white. I get enough attention and stares just walking down the street in normal clothes. Now put me in some dorky workout shorts and sneakers and have me jumping around like a 4 year old. It's tough! REally tough! You have to be extremely comfortable in your skin, with your surroundings, and with the attention. People make jokes, point, and stare.

Ok, ok, hear's the scoop. You aren't going to eat perfect. There's too many cool experiences that involve food when traveling. But you can still control portion sizes and differentitation of the diet. So there's 2 goals you need for consumption. Now with fitness...You know people are going to stare. You know cities are concrete and there is a lot of smog. You can't make excuses now because you know what to expect. Have a plan, a very "specific" fitness plan. Leave the excitement, ambiguity, and spontineity to the food consumption. But know your fitness routine inside and out. Get it done early, really early. Less traffic and people to deal with. Running the streets can bee done at 4 am safer than at any other time. Stay consistant. And don't over do it. Go into your vacation at a tolerable physical condition so you can focus on maitaining rather than achieving new fiets.  That means have your bikini bod before you leave so all you have to do is work on the tan! 

Ubud starting to grow on me...

After breakfast was served on our patio overlooking the rice fields, Morgan and I set out to explore Ubud. There was a huge local market, cooking classes, painting classes, yoga, massage courses, a monkey park, and plenty of museums.

First stop,the ARMA museum. They actually offered most attractions listed above. But Morgs was keen on the painting class and she booked a session for the next day. I really wanted to do the cooking class but it seemed expensive at the museum. So I asked the guy behind the counter "where's another good cooking class?" The guy says "well I work here, this is the best!" I probed and asked him to help. "come on dude, there has to be a cheaper place that makes great food, help a Bro out!. We are doing the painting class, you got our business, now level with me and lets find a reasonable cooking Class!" He laughed and wrote down on the map of a place that had a reputation for quality.

A five course Meal! Indonesian chicken salad, Nasi goreng special, chicken curry, tiger prawns dish, and a black rice pudding. Bomby Bomb! Morgan and I had been eating these dishes for weeks now and loved the idea of learning the secret touch in their preparations!

Us, a honeymooning couple from New Zealand, and a couple from Holland were honed together at the cooking class. It was a beautiful facility. After our welcome fruit smoothies we were showed the grounds. Little koi ponds separated the shallots, peanuts, ginger, basil, hot peppers, and lemon trees. We put on aprons and went over the menu. We jumped right in. It was fun. Mainly just chopping and cutting but some occasional stirring of the meals was our primary task. But the recipes are simple, fresh, and aromatic. The chefs answered all questions, took their time, and obliged our humor.

The best part, Dinner! We got to eat what we prepared. And it was a wonderful Feast! The meals and recipes are so good yet simple that Morgan and I will use them in Michigan to feed the family :-) Get ready Grandpa, this ain't your normal turkey dinner!

I won't forget Ubud!

Off to a rough start but Ubud finally came around. With a great cooking class, Morgan off to the painting course, and lots of time to explore the local outdoor markets, I was content.

I spent the entire time in the markets looking for one thing. A blowgun! Well, another one. My Bro saw mine from Lombok on a Facebook blast and he showed interest. Being in the woodcarving capital of Bali, I was confident I could sniff one out, despite what our hotel concierge told me.

Markets can be tricky, especially for the novice, and especially if you don't have something specific you're looking for. First of all, they are expert salesmen and haggelers. Second, your concept of value is skewed by the conversion rates. And third, you're out numbered. I learned the hard way in South America, but I'm now a pro. My search was very specific. This is perfect because the ten thousand offers to buy the same bracelet or hat can be thwarted by a simple..."blowgun?"

Advice: learn the name of your specific item in the local language. It saves time and heart ache.

After a little time and few disappointed salesmen, I was able to find a seller. They started at 300,000 rupiah. I laughed, said 50,000 and started to walk away. I turned around when I heard 75,000, smiled, and handed over the cash. Bro, mission accomplished. I see us attacking the local wildlife and one  another for a few hours on Drummond...or until we loose all the darts!

Yes Ubud is unforgettable. I won't forget the grey monkeys that cross the street in suicidal attempts to harass onlookers as they dodge my scooter. I won't forget the wonderful cooking class and amazing recipes of the local fare. I won't forget the cool temple like hotel room and their weird shower designs. I won't forget the worst meal of my life or the crazy hectic markets. And I surely won't forget the cop I bribed for $10 after he whistled me and Morgan over for turning down a one-way street into on coming traffic on the scooter. Till next time Ubud!

Rough start in Ubud...

We opted for the slow ferry as opposed to the speed boat. It would save a few bucks and possibly feel a little more culturally immersed. We were sad to leave Kuta  Lombok but anxious to get to Ubud, another infamous city in Bali. Morgan and I took to the sun deck on the ferry thinking a little sun and some fresh air would soothe the soul. Funny cause the top deck was exactly where the two massive diesel exhaust towers reside. Not to mention that the ferry went so slow that the breeze was nothing but a whisper. So I sat there with my shirt off, baking in the sun and basting in my sweat. I had a nice thick brown coat of zinc oxide sunscreen on my face too. I Looked like a psycho but my nose isn't red, Ha! Over six hours later we got to Pandangby. Now just an hour car ride to Ubud.

In hind sight, I think I would opt for the fast boat. Its just not a good feeling arriving to a new town in the dark. You don't get oriented till the next morning, you're tired and just want food, any food. The food thing is an issue because you don't have time to scope a bunch of menus or ask around. You're so hungry you just go to the closest place that's open. Same goes for hotel accommodations. Whatever the guide book says that's the default. Its dark, no sense in messing around with a bunch of gear.

We settled in at a nice hotel. Felt like a temple or sanctuary. With elaborate walls, ceilings, and decor, this hotel was nothing short of Hindu! Morgan and I were craving curry. We have had curry at least once everyday since the Gili islands, over two weeks now, and we weren't looking to change. A taxi driver offering his services pointed to a restaurant across the street after we refused his trade. A nice boutique looking place with vintage lamps and floor seating on cushions. Looked like a perfect spot for Indonesian cuisine. FAIL! My curry tasted like water, I didn't finish half of it. And if you know me, I don't leave food on my plate. I was so dissatisfied with my meal, I went down the street and ordered some fried rice to-go. I hate ending a day with a bad taste in my mouth.

The irony is that we had found the perfect restaurant in Kuta. Our sweet Indonesian mother who owned the grocery store attached to the restaurant. She made great food, which never cost more than $1.80 American. I spotted her shop when looking for bananas for  my surf trip over the hill and noticed a full restaurant of locals just next door. I knew she was doing something right. No recommendation, just common sense. Follow the crowds of locals to the watering holes.

Now I'm stuck wondering around at night looking for a comparable "warung" in Ubud and end up with watery curry. But the diamond in the rough was the neighboring fried rice facility. Amazing! Forget the recommendations and go with your gut and even more so where the crowds are. This place rocked it. I went to bed happy and with a full tummy! Plus Morgan didn't have to hear me complain all night :-)

The Land, The Waves, The Compromise and The Dream

If there wasn't an entrance gate with a few local boys collecting nominal parking fees, then you might never get to the best beaches. Are Goling, Mawun, and Wawi are three of my favorite spots east of Kuta Lombok. You have to go over the hills. Around ten thousand pot holes. Through countless rice paddies or peanut paddies or soy fields or are they something else? Passing the huts of thatched roofing, bamboo walls, and no electricity. Then you hang a left. Which left? Not sure, just go left towards the ocean. But like I said, if the gates weren't there, you'd probably turn back. Before you can see the beach or ocean you have to literally pass over rice fields, by the barefoot workers, and on muddy, rundown, and grooved out dirt roads. You've been riding your bike for over an hour now. Your hands hurt from braking and holding your self steady on the atrocious dirt roads, your eyes hurt from concentrating too much on pot holes and kids playing in the street, and your sunscreen is wearing off allowing your skin to be further damaged as your sweat magnifies the results. Then...just as you doubt your way for the hundreth time, the foliage breaks. Your eyes wide open and your mind running at full speed, you're awe struck. Though I'm trying, this unexplainable beauty lays infront of you. Undeveloped, unsetteled, and undisturbed these beaches are just waiting. Waiting for surfers to play on their fairytale waves. Waiting for you to test your medel and stamina as she heeves double over head sets onto you. Waiting for your toes to slip through the quinoa like pebbles of sand. Or is it time sculpted coral debris? Speaking of coral, it's plentiful. With blues, greens, and reds lighting the ocean floor you'd be mistaken if her beauty was as kind as her touch. Waiting for your bloody feet. Waiting for your return despite it. Waiting for your eyes, imagination, and creative ideas to unfold her beautiful landscape. It's something from a dream.

The waves are a crashing of reef break. With a little local knowledge you can navigate your way through the shallow coral, maybe at the rip or between the rocks.  The tides move slow. The waves can be perfect, literally what you see on tv. There's hype here in Indonesia and for good reason. I've had more days surfing alone here on Lombok than with company. It's been overhead up until yesterday. Offshore winds hold the barrels wide and make for awesome 15 foot rooster tails off the backside of the wave. Paradise couldn't be much better than these gems.
  
The compromise. The land is cheap, really cheap. 3 to 7 thousand per 100 square meters of beach front. But the roads aren't developed. You can purchase from the locals but who's to say it's legal, legitimate, or safe? You can purchase through a realator.  But they will inform you that you need a local to purchase the land for you then that local must sign over the power of attorney to you. Supposedly this is the safe way? Now you need to find a local you can trust. The "Kiwi" we spoke to last night has his trusted sponsor "Jay" from "Tate Development." A local that this New Zealander has known for 6 years.

The task seems daunting, especially for a traveling dreamer with little money to put where his mouth is.  Everyone here hopes that Lombok is to turn into the next Bali. If this happens, prices will skyrocket. But this endeavor is less of an investment as it is a procurement of my future "Drummond Island." My Grandfather and his sons have been going to Drummond Island in the northern peninsula of Michigan for half a lifetime. I've been going for my entire life and hope to conitinue this tradition till I'm gone. I'm left wondering. Sitting in the quinoa sand, starring at the "Jurrasic Park" backdrop, and listening to the perfectly crashing waves, I can't help but wonder how my Grandpa feels. How he feels for creating a tradition. The only real tradition I really know.  The only real tradition our entire family knows! Out of thin air, with guts, a little foresight, and passion for his hobbies, Grandpa carved the way for lifetimes of tradition in a place our entire family has come to cherish. How does that feel Grandpa? To be a creator? To be a leader? To be a Sturdevant? I can't say for certain that Lombok, Indonesia is the place, but I can say I will surely start building upon your tradition one day soon.  

Welcome to Mawi Beach

This place is something out of the Jurrasic Park movies, The Beach with Leo, or a large version of Tom Hank's island on Cast Away.  Wait, wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. More on the scenery in a later post. The segway is the motor-bike story and the two flat tires...

Ok, Having already been to Mawi beach the day before, I was confident on the route necessary to get both Morgan and I there again. We head towards the Airport, avoiding the steep pot hole ridden path and sticking to the smooth expressway. Don't worry, we look like tourists and are wearing the dorky helmets everytime, despite what the locals do! We pass the outdoor market that resembles the one in Mataram. The next left turns into a half way descent road with only 50% pot hole coverage. 30 minutes later it connects with another nice road that heads us back down towards the beach and away from the airport. We pay the $1 parking fee for Mawi, head to the beach still 10 minutes from the gate. I have talked this place up to Morgan for a few hours and I was eager to get to the sand. It was maybe 1 pm, after an hour and half bike ride from Kuta.

And it is just stunning. Morgan loves it. The backdrop is spectacular. A perfect setting for lounging in the sand on our newly bought sirongs. Doing the feed Jason's face and otherwise romance thing for a couple hours, the surf starts to pick up. Oh yeah, Mawi is a world class surf break that pumps from way outside. A heavy left that spits, crushes, and humbles the best of the best. On our way in, we spoke with some older Aussie's who had just snapped two boards and the other guy was pretty well exhausted. It happens with 10 foot sets rolling through!

So after a couple hours of kissy time, I wade out waist deep, carefully stepping around the sharp reef and take the rip current out to the break. I paddle south or to Morgan's left as she watches, to put myself in position for an epic session alone! Yes, I was alone, 10 footers rolling in...and needless to say I was pounded for a while. I caught some great ones though, and even Morgan saw!

This was right about when I noticed two young boys climbing the goat trail to the otherside of the cove to wear Morgan was laying by herself...   I puffed up like a bullfrog trying to exude my dominance and frieghten away the preditors from a couple hundred meters away in the surf. I was about to paddle in but the boys stopped at the top of the hill...I got smashed by a couple more sets and realized they were just watching the surf...or were they?

The sun is setting and I knew I needed to get in before it got dark becuase driving back home with Morg's on the scooter through rough hilly conditions would suck. We get to the bike, everyone had left by now. By everyone I mean the 4 or 5 locals who supposedly watch your bike but really just try and sell their fruit, snacks, and drinks. I start the bike, Morgan hops on the back, and then a couple locals pull up. An older local and a young boy. Small talk for a bit and we carry on...I make the turn out of the sandy parking lot and almost wipe out! "What the heck? Do we have a flat babe?" Morgan looks down and says yup! I'm furious, just fuming! "WTF!!!! Pay to get into this place, they slash our tires and now it's getting dark....what now?"

A group of little kids drive up, playing dumb, they offer their services for a small fee to fix the bike. First they try and get Morgan to leave with them and return for me with the fixed bike. No way was that happening! Seen too many movies for that one. Then they said they would drive the bike to get it fixed and they'll be back in 20 minutes... Then I start thinkning to myself "wait...if they can drive it, then it's not flat, they just let most of the air out of the tire...little bastards!" I began raising a fuss and probing questions trying to indulge my ego for some sort of hopeless redemption...the wiser of the two, Morgan, stays practicle and gets me in survivor mode. "Who cares what happened, we need this fixed now!" she irritably says to me. She's right too.

The old man helps out, puts Morgan on the back of his bike, I follow. She burns her leg on the exhaust pipe, I swear at the kids who scammed us. We stop at a local hut, where a family lives with the chickens. Naked babies, cocunuts, and rice paddies are abundant. The old man takes the bike and the last of my $50,000 rupiah ($5 American) to go put air in the tire. Left with the family, Morgan and I small talk our way into getting coconuts. The 15 year old climbs the tree barefoot and knocks a couple down. The bike returns fixed, the change was given to the kids and another 10,000Rupiah for the coconuts. It was dark. With lights on, the bugs hitting my face and eyes, and the scam artists left behind, Morgan and I headed home. Pissed, vulnerable, shaken, pleased, excited, scared, nervous, anxious, happy, and among other emotions we made it safely home. This flat tire was not my fault. It makes for a good story though. I think I will buy land on this beach one day. The kids who flattened the tire can work my rice fields for 2 bucks a day for all I care!  
                            

Scooters in Bali

   They only cost 5 bucks a day. Some are new, others pull to the left and skweak over the bumps. Mine has a surf rack and usually a board to go with it. Morgan drove it...for like 5 minutes. She rather liked it. Having taken a spin with Jake following behind, she was off getting her balance. She came back, met me on the side of the road by the coconut tree and couldn't stop smiling. "Soooo...how was it?" I asked.  "Great, haha, really fun...I think you better drive though!" she replied. "Okayyyyy, what happened? Did you crash?" "No, no, but you should drive!" I ask "Jake! What happened?" He said "you should drive bro!" I laugh and take the commander's seat and never bring it up again. Whatever happened, only Jake and her know :) I've been driving ever since!

It's wierd driving on the left side of the road...after a few minutes you get used to it on a normal road just cruising along.  But when you get to an intersection with 50 other cars and bikes making turns and honking at the weary, you get gun shy.  I know I can't hesitate, but man, pulling into the left lane on a right hand turn through an intersection is the most odd feeling. It's worse than realizing you have just turned down a one-way street in opposition to traffic flow.

Now I have a couple weeks under my belt. I'm a master on the thing now. In Kuta on the Island of Lombok, Morgan and I negotiate steep uphill terrain that requires the utmost precision.  The hardest part is going really slow up hill over pot holes, muddy car tire slots, and loose rocks. With Morgan on the back I know my mistakes in hurry. Bam!! We bottom out, scrape the kick stand or oil pan and keep scooting.  I'm really good though, I promise! Ask Morgan! We've only had two flat tires...and presumeably only one was my falt, though I deny both :)