Lily's Travels

Taman Negara National Park

flower-lily — Sat, 2 Feb 2008 04:16:00 GMT

In order to reach the 130 million year old jungle of Taman Negara, we spent the majority of our day in transit. Departing from Kuala Lumpur, we bussed several hours to Kuala Tembeling, where we stopped and had lunch, bought our permits for the park, received “free” T-shirts and registered our cameras. We spent another couple hours aboard a slow rickety boat, traveling 60km up the muddy river to a floating barge situated on the bank across from the park entrance.

Our musty hostel was on a dusty cliff over looking the riverfront barges. There were about six different restaurants (all serving the same Asian food and sandwiches), a couple basic tour agencies, a minimal mini-mart, and a “river crossing service” available from every barge. Many of Malaysia’s nomadic aboriginal groups continue to live in the jungle of Taman Negara and we saw several local villages both active and long abandoned in the park.

The sunlight sparkles through the canopy in the jungle, vines wrap around neighboring trees and the golden silence is only broken by the hoot of monkeys or call of cicadas. We spent a morning shooting the river rapids followed by an afternoon cave tour. I screamed when the first bat flew over my head while the tour guide was looking for a huge white snake he (thankfully) never found. By the end of the cave tour, I was standing under hundreds of sleeping bats and crawled out of the wet cave towards sunlight.

Taman Negara is not only home to bats but rare sightings of tigers, elephants, leopards and rhinos. We didn’t cross paths with any of the above animals but saw a couple monkeys in the trees, a tapir near the park entrance and a small kitten crawled under our bedroom door at night. Then there were the leeches...hikers beware.

We hiked one day with a couple from Sweden and were joined by an endless family of leeches. The leeches were literally leaping from the forest floor onto our shoes, socks and pant legs – penetrating any surface for a taste of blood. We had stopped for a snack along the river and I checked my sneakers for leeches. When I found one inside my shoe I flung the shoe, instead of the leech about ten feet into the river.

I was not happy about going into the muddy river and felt content to walk the rest of the way with a plastic bag on my foot... Thankfully, one of our Swedish friends swam into the river and retrieved my shoe. My hiking companions all had blood soaked socks by the end of the day, yet I somehow escaped the bite of the leech with just a wet shoe.

Leeches aside, the beauty of the oldest jungle in the world speaks for itself. Taman Negara National Park was my Malaysian highlight and completely worth the bat poop, musty hostel and bug bites.

Don't Eat on the Subway

flower-lily — Mon, 28 Jan 2008 04:12:00 GMT

We divided the rest of our time camping on the beach at Pasir Ris National Park on the Northeast side of Singapore and living comfortably in the dormitory at Sleepy Sam’s. Singapore seems like a good place to live in Asia if you could learn all the rules. It is illegal to chew gum anywhere in the country or eat in the subway. One must pay a hefty fine for smoking in public places, jaywalking or littering – reaching upwards to $1000 Singaporean dollars (or approximately $700 US) for the offences.

Singapore’s strict rules may have influenced the city’s wide sidewalks, readable street signs, drinkable tap water, restaurant regulations, manicured parks, effective transportation and low crime rate. As a backpacker traveling between the park and hostel - the rules seemed reasonable and the announcements were all in English. Singapore even recycles their subway tickets. I just had to wait until my stop to eat my snacks.

Despite the free camping and dormitory living, there was still a shopping mall on every corner and we had stretched our pocketbooks to the max in Singapore. We headed back across the bridge into Malaysia and booked into a room in Kuala Lumpur. We ate Indian food, watched a movie and changed gears from the urban jungle of Singapore to the world’s oldest jungle in Taman Negara National Park.

Singapore Satisfaction

flower-lily — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 16:22:00 GMT

We bussed for five hours further south from Melaka across the bridge into Singapore – a city, an island and a country. I had long envisioned Singapore to be one big ugly sweatshop, busily manufacturing plastic trinkets for kids to buy from gum ball machines. Expecting to stay just a few days, buy a post card and head back to Malaysia - I am surprised by my growing fondness of this country.

Beginning with the weather – a balmy eighty-five degrees, eighty percent humidity, warm ocean breezes and scattered thunderstorms are on the forecast everyday. Endless summer days require an umbrella in Singapore for the warm rays and the rain showers alike but I can't complain.

The budget accommodations are costly for backpackers at $20 for a dorm bed. However, the sheets are clean, the water is warm, the air con is flowing, the coffee is fresh, wi-fi is free, the book shelves are stocked and the kitchen is available for guest use. Sleepy Sam’s Bed and Breakfast in the Kampong Glam district near Little India is the place to stay if you must pay.

We watched turtles sunbathe at the Singapore Botanic Gardens and admired exotic blossoms at the National Orchid Garden. The local parks are highly trafficked but unspoiled, busy yet peaceful, well developed and tastefully landscaped gems burried in this urban jungle.

The world class Singapore Zoo is worth a visit with the free-ranging Orangutans among many other primates and home to over 400 species. I must say that the pygmy hippo was my favorite – swimming under water like a graceless whale.

One evening, we met Geoff, (my neighbor from Seattle) for dinner and drinks to celebrate his upcoming Microsoft relocation. We shared stories of our travels and sipped Singapore Slings on a rooftop bar. We ate Mediterranean food and drank Chardonnay followed by traditional Asian desserts of neon colored jelly balls, red beans and corn served on coconut milk drenched shaved ice. It was great to see a familiar face across the world. I look forward to visiting his family in Singapore when they arrive this spring.

We balanced the high cost of staying in Singapore with free camping at the national parks. We spent three nights tenting on the beach at East Coast National Park where we read our books, rented roller blades and rode bikes along the 10k stretch of coastline. At night, the glittering lights from the huge ships formed a distant city skyline on the horizon. In the park, Randy wake boarded around a lagoon rigged with a circular cable system.

Free camping and wake boarding at a National Park - when will this catch on back home?

Malay Days

flower-lily — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 16:02:00 GMT

What was it about the sewer rats, barbeque meat smells and aggressive handbag vendors that drew me back to Kuala Lumpur’s grimy Chinatown?

Maybe it was the unfinished tourist attractions I missed during my first stay...or maybe to visit the monkeys and Hindu shrines at the Batu Caves again...or maybe it was simply the cheapest return ticket from Bali.

Whatever the case, we were in KL - caught up on sleep, laundry and e-mails, so we headed towards the city center to view the famous Petronas Towers. The twin towers are 88-stories high and headquarters to the national oil and gas company. We scored one of the 1,400 free daily tickets and rode the elevator to the 41^st floor skybridge connecting the two towers at 170m above ground. A five minute birds’ eye viewing (after a five hour wait) wasn’t complete without a short patriotic film about oil and gas.

Our last tourist attraction in the city was the KL Tower in the Bukit Nanas Forest Reserve. The tower, also called Menara KL is a close relative of Seattle’s Space Needle. Its spherical summit is inspired by a Malaysian spinning top and the Menara KL is the world’s fourth largest telecommunication tower. We bought tickets and rode the lift to the viewing deck (100m higher than the Petronas Towers’ skybridge) for a 360 degree view of Kuala Lumpur. The spinning top doubles as a revolving restaurant but we opted for Indian cuisine at the base of the tower.

From the capital, we bussed two hours south to the historical port town of Melaka. A melting pot on the trade route between China and India – Melaka was formed with strong influences from neighboring Indonesia and aggressive pressure from the Portuguese, Dutch and British. One can still buy little wooden clogs in the Chinatown of Melaka today…

In a downpour, we checked into the Sama-Sama Guest House, found a vegan café, rode a trishaw on a city tour and ate banana roti before watching a couple movies in our drafty, unkempt quarters. We woke in the middle of the night to the piercing sound of Gongs from the nearby Sanduo Temple followed by endless chanting from a mosque down the street.

When morning arrived, it was time to escape the nightly street music and board a bus to Singapore.

Midnight Travels

flower-lily — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 15:53:00 GMT

Our final days on Bali drew to a close passing peaceful hours on Batukaru, celebrating Bea’s birthday and saying our good-byes. I wish Ashley luck as she flies back to the states - packing up for a move to the Bay Area. I am fortunate to have shared the beginning of my journey in the company of a genuine friend. Note to the reader: old college roommates make excellent travel companions.

I am also grateful that Bea decided to blaze her trail to Asia last year. She has been an inspiration for my own travel pursuits. Thanks for the encouragement Bea! She will continue working for the Australian family until April and I have a feeling we might cross paths sooner…

Randy and I spent our last two days in the lavish town of Seminyak on the Southern Coast near Kuta Beach - in a less than lavish hotel called Ned’s Hideaway for $8/night. Around the corner from our hideaway we discovered Zula, a restaurant serving amazing vegan cuisine. We ate there multiple times because in our next destination of Kuala Lumpur, the vegetarian dining was limited at best.

We checked out of Indonesian for a fee of $150,000 Rupiah each and managed to spend the last of our Rupiah paying for overstuffed luggage. (Good luck explaining to the Indonesian airport staff why you are carrying a camping tent.) Where was Kevin when we needed a hand?

Arriving back into Malaysia around midnight, we were stamped into the country hassle-free with 90 day visas. The hassle began shortly after arranging a cab to Chinatown.

We were over charged for the short cab ride because you can’t barter much after midnight. The Red Dragon Hostel could not find our online reservation and a room wasn’t available until 3:30 in the morning. So we roamed the dirty streets eating tofu kabobs and Seven-Eleven snacks to keep our senses satisfied.

Already missing Bali, we checked into our windowless room around four am. Fortunately, we weren’t charged for our first night at the Red Dragon in the room we shared with a rat.

Lucky in Lovina

flower-lily — Sat, 5 Jan 2008 01:15:00 GMT

Welcome to Lovina. Where you from? Where you stay? You want dolphin carving? Maybe take two. Good price. Cheap for you. Maybe you buy later? Maybe buy tomorrow? Maybe buy next week? How long you stay? What’s your name?

Randy and I began the New Year on the North Coast of Bali in the mellow town of Lovina. We booked into a hotel room, half a block from the beach for $5/night including breakfast. On our short walk to the black sand beach we were approached by a throng of local people desperately offering their laundry services, massages, simple shell jewelry and wood carvings. The lack of tourism was painful to witness in rainy Lovina.

We spent one day on a shoddy snorkel tour to the most Northwestern point of the Balinese coast, Pulau Menjangan. I snorkeled for a record time of 20 minutes and even saw a small octopus in the murky water before it rained the rest of the day. The man who sold us our snorkel tour told us we were very lucky to book with him and he would even throw in a Sunrise Dolphin Tour the next morning.

Late that same night there was a knock at our door and the Captain of our dolphin cruise stood on our dimly lit porch. He told us that if the waves were too big in the morning we wouldn’t be able to see dolphins and one of his friend’s boats went down just today. Assuming this was the end of our "free" tour - I was surprised at quarter to six, when our Captain reappeared to take us to sea.

There were a few other sleepy-eyed tourists on the black beach that morning, waiting while the skippers prepared their simple vessels for the waves. Randy and I climbed aboard the small private boat with our Captain. Shortly after we disembarked, the engine puttered to a complete stop. Our boat turned parallel to the waves which began immediately crashing into the boat, leaving us waist deep in water. The other boatmen swam into the choppy water and rescued our boat - guiding us soaked and grateful back to shore. Needless to say, the only dolphin I saw on Bali was the dolphin carving I purchased from an artist.

On our last day in Lovina, Randy rented a scooter (for $3/day) and we drove out of town to the local hot springs. There were no welcome drinks or extra towels but lucky for us, these beautiful hot springs only cost $3000 Rupiah (or about 30 US cents).

The Medicine Man

flower-lily — Tue, 1 Jan 2008 00:52:00 GMT

Bea met us in Ubud to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Thanks to Blondy’s lead, we had located the Medicine Man, Ketut Liyer, and arranged transport to his home in the Pengosekan neighborhood. Bea, Ashley and I had all read the novel Eat Pray Love and were eager to meet one of Gilbert’s protagonists in person.

Ketut Liyer’s Balinese home was built in traditional open air fashion. Our transport driver walked with us into the compound and found elderly Ketut finishing up a late afternoon meal. Ketut eyed us curiously and exchanged a few words with our driver before offering his warm one-tooth smile.

Why did we come here? He wanted to know.

I held out my palm to Ketut and he ushered us to the straw mat sitting area where a few Balinese sat chatting. He slowly went inside to freshen up and emerged wearing a few more colorful garments before joining us cross legged on the mat. Ketut spoke in broken English and motioned to the hard copy of Eat Pray Love autographed by Elizabeth Gilbert sitting on his porch.

I think this is how you know me he told us and we guiltily nodded our heads. Ketut thumbed threw the pages and explained how difficult it was for him to understand the book because of the language barrier.

Ketut stared silently into my eyes. I stared back and wondering what I was doing sitting on a straw mat in Bali with this wrinkly old Medicine Man on the last day of the year. Then Ketut proceeded to give me his disclaimer: I can only say truth, he told me. If it is bad I say. If it is good I say. Only I say what is true and that might be bad...

You are a very good girl, Ketut began. He inspected my eyes, ears, face, heart, spine and back before focusing his attention on my palm. I would live to be 102 years old. I needed to be less emotional and always honest. Always say the truth. I needed to be more patient. I needed to worry less. I had a good boyfriend…a very nice boy indeed. I probably wouldn’t marry until I was 30 or 31 years old. There was no hurry. I would get married once, but if I wanted to get married again – it would be my choice – and basically not to cry over spilled milk. I would have three children. There were three types of art that I did and if I followed one I would be very successful. I would be rich by the time I was 35 years old. I was smart and above all, a very good girl.

Then Ketut wanted to know: Did I drive a motorbike or car back home? Was I a good driver? I told him I was a good driver but had sold my car to come to Asia. He began tapping my legs looking for the truth. I see you have little accidents. Drive more careful. I felt embarrassed since I had forgotten to mention those fender benders and made a mental note to drive slower if I wanted to live to be 102 years old.

I am very happy to meet you, Ketut told us several times. We must stay in touch he said handing me his little notebook and pen. I wrote him a brief note and left my e-mail address. Do Medicine Men use e-mail?

After listening to my somewhat generic fortunes, neither Ashley nor Bea had their palms read. I paid Ketut $250,000 Rupiah for his palm reading service and thanked him for his time. Maybe I was an easy target seeking out the Medicine Man considering he didn’t speak English well and likely told most Western women the same story of their palms.

See you later Alligator! Ketut called to us as we walked away.

In awhile, Crocodile! I called back, remembering Ketut’s favorite parting expression from Gilbert’s book.

Later that same day...

Escaping from the pouring rain, we spent New Year’s Eve bar hopping around sleepy Ubud and stretching our $10 drink budget successfully into 2008. Midnight transcended upon us with familiar Ben Harper music in the air and I felt ever thankful to be that very good girl on this rainy Balinese night.

Sweet Tempeh & Furry Friends

flower-lily — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 19:54:00 GMT

I quickly fell in love with the bustling town of Ubud. Impressive points in the town include but are not limited to the numerous used book stores, the Monkey Forest, attractive silver and batik shops, fire dances, rice paddy walks, creative vegetarian food, a plentiful supply of transport drivers, free wi-fi and real espresso. It was not difficult to understand why many expatriates make their homes in Ubud and start export businesses back to their motherland.

One day we took a vegetarian style Balinese cooking class and learned how to make a few traditional Indonesian dishes. Our chef, Nyoman took us on a tour thru the local pungent smelling market and pointed out the different kinds of rice, roots and spices we would use in our cooking. Most Indonesian dishes (as well as Thai) are made with shrimp paste but we opted out for strict veggie matter in our recipes.

The first concoction we made was called Base Gedi – a basic spice sauce consisting of four fragrant roots and seven spices. We cooked steamed vegetables mixed with Base Gedi and sweet coconut shavings. Gado-Gado is a popular Indonesian dish consisting of fried tempeh and tofu, a hard boiled egg and peanut sauce served over at least two different types of vegetables, garnished with shrimp or soy crackers. Our favorite tasting dish was fried tempeh mixed with palm sugar, chilies and shallots served over rice, which will certainly be on my restaurant menu one day.

The Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary proved to be a much loved attraction for us as the name says it all. For a small fee of $1 we spent all day (or a couple days) in the lush green jungle of the Monkey Forest witnessing grey-haired Balinese Macaques in their haunt. Visitors have the opportunity to hand feed them bananas, peeling their little pick-pocket fingers off your leg meanwhile observing them methodically wash rocks in mud puddles, swimming and diving into their pond, wrestling with their cousins, leaping from trees, making babies and picking cooties from each other’s coats. One small monkey climbed up Randy’s arm, contently perched on his shoulders and hugged his neck. I worried we would not pass customs with the extra furry backpack so we returned him to his sacred forest.

Bing, Blondy & Being Balinese

flower-lily — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 19:21:00 GMT

On Christmas day, Lucy departed for the airport while Randy and I rode a minibus several hours inland to the cultural city of Ubud. We booked into a traditional Indonesian accommodation for about six dollars a night including breakfast, clean sheets and a cold shower. We quickly learned that Ubud was no stranger to excellent cuisine – serving up pumpkin raviolis, gnocchi, Balinese coconut crepes, lime flavored aloe vera juice, espresso, vegetarian enchiladas, tofu salads and mango sorbet to name a few. On Christmas night we listened to a Balinese mariachi band and my senses were mixed with Latin infused South East Asian music sprinkled with sweet palm sugar.

We reunited with Ashley in Ubud and moved accommodations to become neighbors. She introduced us to a Balinese-American couple from the San Francisco Bay area she had met in Ubud. While Bing and Stacy were legally married in the States – their marriage was not recognized by Indonesian standards because they didn’t have any children – a main status symbol for Balinese families. Bing had chosen to keep his Indonesian citizenship and therefore had to “sponsor” a cultural visa for his wife to stay on Bali for more than thirty days. They rented a car for the following day and invited us to join them on a trip to the hot springs.

The solidarity of the Balinese was apparent after my day with Bing and Stacy. Not uncommon on Bali, we were quickly stopped by a police road block. All the foreigners had to pay $5000 Indonesian Rupiah (about 50 US cents) for no apparent reason except that we weren’t Balinese. We passed picturesque rice paddies, whole sale shops and a huge lake on the windy drive. Bing brought us to a fancy all-you-can-eat lunch buffet up in the mountains at a restaurant frequented by tourists. When the bill arrived, Bing didn’t have to pay because he was Balinese and had brought our business to the restaurant. At the well developed hot springs - we were charged $10/each for a warm dip including a welcome drink, snack and towel – all except Balinese Bing.

I had many impressions of the Balinese culture I wanted to experience for myself after reading the book, Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, in which the last part of the story takes place on Bali. I asked our hotel owner, Blondy, if he knew where I could get my palm read hoping he might know of the Medicine Man.

Apparently, Blondy was no stranger to reading palms himself and immediately reached for mine. According to Blondy: I won’t live a long life - maybe just until I am 75 or 80 years old. I will get married once, but if I want I can get married again, but only if I want. I will have three children. I am good with money and will become rich later. Blondy knew of someone that reads palms for a living and said he would take me to meet this man for $25. I was curious if it was the Medicine Man from Eat Pray Love because that was the only way I could justify spending the equivalent of a day’s budget on a palm reading.

The Rain Discount

flower-lily — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 00:54:00 GMT

Lucy and Kevin were scheduled to fly back to the States in a couple days so we moved towards the beach while Ashley headed to Ubud and Bea stayed on the Mountain.

We were able to enjoy one evening of swimming (with flotsam and jetsam) before the rain rolled into Kuta Beach and never disappeared. Kevin and Randy each surfed a day but for us non-surfers, the beach left a little to be desired between dodging surf boards, peddlers and garbage floating in the water.

Kuta Beach was similar to Phuket, Thailand – filled with aggressive vendors hawking beer t-shirts, sarongs, carved masks, sunglasses and shell necklaces – all of which my party purchased. Lucy and I eagerly hit the rainy streets to barter for beaded necklaces, feathered earrings and painted masks after buying an extra duffle bag which Kevin graciously carried home. Luckily, the vendors offered the rain discount to entice us into their shops. (I must know…how does one obtain the rain discount in Seattle?) We made good use of the wet weather and purchased 47 DVDs to watch on Randy’s lap top in the comforts of our hotel room - all for less than ten dollars.

Lucy and I shared a non-traditional Christmas breakfast on our last day together in Indonesia of cheese jaffles, mixed fruit pancakes and mango lassies. We drank Bali coffee, watched the rain pour down and talked about our future plans. Lucy was off to Costa Rica for yet another Nursing quarter abroad, while I was destined to continue on my path as a nomad...until we meet again.

Batukaru Mountain Retreat

flower-lily — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 00:18:00 GMT

Flying over the beautiful green Indonesian islands, sleep deprived and anxious - we safely arrived at the Denpasar airport on the island of Bali. We paid $25 for our fancy 30 day visas and cleared customs without unzipping our bags. My dear friend Bea (from college) waited outside in the balmy heat - ready with private car and driver. Bea has been living with an Australian family on Bali for the past few months, working as a tutor for their daughters. The family was back in Australia for the holidays, leaving Bea available to share their Mountain Retreat with us.

We drove along the traffic congested Southern Bali beach streets of Kuta to fetch Randy from his bungalow (where he had arrived a few days prior). Packed tight in a full car of luggage, college friends, boyfriends and silly sisters; the driver kindly drove us from the bank to lunch to a fantastic Balinese massage to a huge grocery market and finally up to the much anticipated Batukaru Mountain Retreat.

The drive up to Batukaru was filled with breath taking rice paddies, aged temples, palm trees and colorfully dressed locals ready for ceremony. My eyes finally met the visions of South East Asia that my heart had long desired.

The Batukaru Mountain Retreat is currently under construction and scheduled to open this spring for yoga and belly dancing workshops. Bea’s home away from home was set on gorgeous landscaped property with traditional Balinese style buildings filled with natural light. The grounds included a small fish pond, a new batch of puppies, several cats, guinea pigs, a construction crew and two cooks – preparing us three meals a day. I immediately knew this would be one of the nicest places of my trip so we settled in and made it our home for the next week.

We played games at night, watched movies, took cat naps, read books, explored the local village, played with the newly born puppies, spent a rainy day trip in Ubud and shared stories of our Asian travels. It was easy to slip into the comforts of home with my sister at an arm’s reach, catered meals and mellow nights surrounded by close friends.

Life in the Big City

flower-lily — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 12:36:00 GMT

After a few days in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur, I felt comfortable navigating the rail system and bustling streets of Chinatown. Kuala Lumpur is home to roughly a million and a half people, modern architecture, high education standards, and a multilingual speaking population, including but not limited to English.

Following her extended stay in Thailand, Ashley arrived at my hostel in KL in awe of the contemporary city. We chatted about our solo travel experiences over lunch. After Ashley's unfulfilled shopping in Bangkok, we decided to hit the malls.... which KL has about 66 to choose from. I was reminded of the fast approaching holiday season due to bad caroling and santa hats, nonetheless, there were no crowds unlike this time of year back in the states.

I decided to take advantage of some of the luxuries of the malls by eating the best vegetarian food in Malaysia so far... and getting my hair cut professionally. The hair salon was so thorough that the mall closed while I was still getting my hair blow dried. Ashley and I missed the last train back to Chinatown so we successfully tested our luck on the local bus.

The following day, Lucy and Kevin arrived at our hostel in KL after their whirlwind trip to Cambodia. We had Indian food for lunch - no plates - just straight off the banana leaf. Walked through the markets in Chinatown. Dodged the pouring rain. Saw an I-MAX - Underwater Exploration, anyone? Followed by dinner at a vegetarian place in the Golden Triangle before calling it a night.

The last day in KL, Lucy and I bussed 12km to the famous limestone Batu Caves, home to several Hindu shrines at the top of the 272 steps. The steps were covered in small monkeys - interacting with the tourists and worshipers - hissing and stealing baby bottles. We snapped a few photos and backed away slowly.

At three in the morning we all headed to the airport to check out of customs and board our plane to Indonesia.

Travel lessons of the day:

a) don't expect to carry two bottles of wine on the plane - what was I thinking?
b) get to the airport at least four hours early for international flights - the lines move slower than molasses
c) don't book the early morning flights just because they are cheaper - unless you don't want to sleep the night prior
d) travel with someone like Kevin because he checked half my belongings due to my over-packing tendencies - my hero
e) lastly don't over-pack - easier said than done but quite honestly, Asia has the best shopping in the world...

Making Progress in Kuala Lumpur

flower-lily — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 17:00:00 GMT

We arrived into the modern bustling city of Kuala Lumpur in a humid downpour around dusk. After checking out a few dark, musty hotels; my map was wet and my bag seemed to be growing heavier. On the verge of crankiness, I settled on the Backpackers Travellers Inn in the heart of Chinatown. I reluctantly checked into another crowded dorm room. As a Canadian traveler had informed me in the Cameron Highlands - "the cheaper the bed, the longer my trip" - so the $10 ringgits ($3 US) per night seemed quite affordable.

While I was searching frantically for dry clothes and a chocolate bar in my backpack, a fellow dormitory dweller asked if I was from the States. Busted! How had I given that one away so quickly?

When I told her yes, I was indeed from the States - she kindly told me she was also from Seattle. We eagerly exchanged stories of our similar experiences as "the only American" in Malaysia. Glannel's parents were Korean but she was born and raised in the States. While attending the University of Washington she had classes with a peer from my high school.

Glannel introduced me to a young Japanese man named Tani who was incredibly obsessed with Seattle. We seemed to hold some kind of celebrity status in his eyes. Tani anxiously took notes as we talked about Seattle - a place he could not wait to visit. His English was basic but he spoke with his hands in an overly excited manner about Seattle. Every time I walked past him, he would shout "Seattle!"

That afternoon I ventured to the US Embassy for a third attempt at adding pages to my passport. First off, the US Embassy is not on the street with the other foreign embassies. I walked for about two hours searching for the waving American flag before asking directions at the British Embassy. When I finally arrived at the US Embassy it was closed (of course) because it is only opened from 9-11am and it was about 1pm. Therefore, I was determined to return tomorrow before opening.

The next day at the US Embassy, I was the first American citizen to arrive amongst about fifty Malaysians seeking visas for America. The Malaysians had to wear red badges that said "Escort Required" and were asked a dozen personal questions in the waiting room about their families, financial situations, etc before they were awarded visas.

The other American at the US Embassy was a scruffy old sailor who had been sailing the globe with his wife for 18 years. He was applying for a new passport. I almost asked if he needed any crew... but thought otherwise when I learned his sailboat was only 30ft. The sailor told me that in his 18 years of travel he had only met a handful of Americans that had quit their job to travel.

After an hour and a half, I received my passport with additional pages - lettered instead of numbered this time. The clerk told me if I needed more pages added that it was a free service overseas but back in the good ol' USA I had to pay for them.

Good thing I forgot to get more pages before I left the States...

Cameron Highlands

flower-lily — Mon, 10 Dec 2007 14:34:00 GMT

After departing the busy island of Pulau Penang via ferry, I boarded a bus to the Cameron Highlands. The scenery changed from a congested concrete jungle to lush green mountains after a few hours on the rickety old bus. I arrived in the pouring rain at Tata Ratah - the main hub of the Cameron Highlands. I walked to the western edge of town and up a long flight of stone steps leading to Father's Guesthouse where I checked into a twelve bed dormitory. During my first night, I was surrounded exclusively by British travelers and became known as the snoring American girl.

After several weeks on sunny shores, I retired my swimsuit and put my rain jacket to the test. Let's just say I am in the market for some gortex. The temperature in the highlands dropped drastically at night and I managed to score a few extra blankets and make use of my wool socks for the first time in Asia. My following days in the Cameron Highlands were rather leisurely as the rain never seemed to let up - but the accommodations remained cheap and the company cheerful.

After reading rave reviews about a specific tour guide, (like a good tourist) I signed up for the Discovery Tour of the Cameron Highlands. My tour guide, Kumar, was a native of the Cameron Highlands. He immediately insisted that everyone on the tour was his friend and he loved his job because it did not seem like work to him. The other tourists represented New Zealand, France, England, the Netherlands and Germany - I was again the solo American. After about an hour into the tour, Kumar came over to me and told me how much he loved meeting people from all over the world. Everyone is so nice he said. Except people that come from your place. They have such big egos - they don't even say thank you. Maybe that was when I should have asked for a refund...

We observed the sprawling green tea plantations where workers from Indonesia came to pick the tea leaves by hand before the factory process. Kumar's brother led the tour group on a muddy hike in the Mossy Forest - showing us medicinal plants and foreign bugs. The Mossy Forest was incredible similar to the woods behind my childhood home in the Pacific Northwest - though my French friend had never seen a fern before so he was very impressed.

During the second half of our tour, we visited the Orang Asli Village where we had tea and yuca root with the Chief of the aboriginal tribe. We chatted with the village children, learned how to play the bamboo nose flute and shoot the blow pipe (an ancient hunting weapon). The Orang Asli Village consisted of about 10 basic bamboo huts built on stilts situated around a muddy river. The village reminded me immediately of my days as a volunteer in rural Bolivia.

My last day in the Cameron Highlands, I bought a bus ticket to Kuala Lumpur, ate Indian food and I hiked one of the trails with my (African born) French friend, Camille. We hiked along the river to Parit Falls but unfortunately there was a great deal of garbage in the water - taking away from the picturesque landscape.

The next morning Camille and I boarded a bus to Kuala Lumpur in hopes of drier weather.

American Assumptions

flower-lily — Fri, 7 Dec 2007 21:42:00 GMT

I haven't met any fellow American travelers during this past week in Malaysia, but nonetheless other citizens of the world have been educating me on Americans.

I was using the computer one morning at my hotel in Georgetown - typing quick e-mails to multiple people, when a French man approached me. "How do you know how to type so fast? Without looking?" He asked. I shrugged and continued to type while explaining, "I use the computer a lot." Then Balding French Man launched into a windy one-sided conversation in his broken English about how easy it was for me to travel because I was an American. That I didn't even need to attempt other languages because everyone can speak English. It just wasn't fair! Did I even know how hard it was for him to travel since he was French?! I tried to explain to Balding French Man that I usually travel in Latin America and it is much more difficult for me there - but he didn't buy it. He wanted sympathy.

Later that same day I was having my lunch in a small cafe, reading my book and writing in my journal. A middle aged Malaysian man shouted hello from his table. Malaysian Motorcycle Man wanted to know how I liked Malaysia and where was I going, what was I doing here, where I was from, etc. Then Malaysian Motorcycle Man told me that not many Americans ever visit Malaysia. Actually, according to Malaysian Motorcycle Man, most Americans don't travel much and Americans believe that Malaysians still live in the tree tops. When I tried to tell him differently, he didn't seem interested because he had read these facts about Americans in a magazine. No debate necessary.

During my last day in Penang, I was heading up the stairs to my hotel room when the Chinese hotel owner asked if I was from France. I was flattered, but I told him I was from the states. Upon hearing that, his face dropped and he became very serious and sad. Chinese Hotel Man said that Americans were obsessed with war. Can't they see how terrible it is? Why won't Americans stop sending troops to be killed? I didn't bother to tell the Chinese Hotel Man differently this time and wished I would have just answered "Oui je suis de la France!"

Last night at my new hostel in the Cameron Highlands, I found myself surrounded by English chaps in the shared dormitory. Their English accents were so thick I wasn't sure English was their first language until I learned they were all from England. The English Chaps all had their own assumptions of what America was like without ever having traveled there. Will it be warm in August? Are there islands in America? Why don't Americans swear much? As the American representative, I didn't have to explain the last question because his English mate assured him - that in fact he had just met an American last week with a proper potty mouth. I was glad to hear that Americans had found some way to be proper.

Wishing Birds

flower-lily — Mon, 3 Dec 2007 20:55:00 GMT

I have read three novels in the last five days, eaten Indian food twice, set two sparrows free, lost my guidebook and rode the ferry to a new island called Pulau Penang. While leaving Pulau Langkawi (one of the 104 islands that comprise the Langkawi group) I couldn't help but notice these islands appeared similar to the islands of the Pacific Northwest. If I didn't have a new Malaysian stamp in my passport I would have thought I was riding an express ferry in the San Juan Islands.

Due to the earlier sold-out boat to Penang, I arrived into Georgetown -the oldest British settlement in Malaysia- at night time. There was something different in the warm air as I stepped over the aquamarine water off the boat to the ferry dock. The taxi driver could not find the hotel I suggested, so I settled for the SD Guesthouse and enjoyed my first hot shower since Phuket.

The next morning, I began exploring Chinatown and searched for multiple restaurants that did not exist. I found myself at a busy intersection studying my map when a lady approached me and pointed across the street. "That is the oldest temple on Penang," she told me. "Enjoy your trip." I had seen the temple out of the corner of my eye but hadn't stopped to look. Buddhist monks on the street, temples and the spell of burning incense was becoming normal to me now. None-the-less, I wasn't going anywhere fast, so I crossed the street and sat outside the temple.

I witnessed many people offering up their prayers inside and outside the temple with burning incense sticks. A man appeared carrying three plastic bags and placed them on a table outside the temple. Immediately, eager people appeared out of nowhere and formed a line to the table. As the people reached the front of the line they were each handed a white box of food. Many people walked past me and offered their boxes. Some stopped to tell me to sit in the shade while another asked if I was waiting for my husband. The original man with the food approached me and offered a box. "Very good for you Miss," he told me. I declined his offer out of fear. Who knows what kind of mystery meat was contained inside that box?

When the free-for-all feeding crowd dispersed, I noticed a few vendors with bird cages. They were selling Wishing Birds for only 3 Ringgits a piece. I approached one vendor to take a picture but couldn't turn down the Wishing Birds waiting to be released. So I bought two sparrows after checking his credentials - Wishing Birds: You will provide it with prosperity and freedom and it will provide you with happiness and luck. I thought my happiness and luck was certainly worth 6 Ringgits so I freed two sparrows from my shaky grip. Then I looked for my hand sanitizer.

Today after a leisurely morning of withdrawing Ringgits, ordering espresso, eating in Little India and finishing my latest novel, I returned to my hotel to send off a few updates - only to discover I didn't have my guidebook anymore. First I panicked - how will I ever find my way? Then I realized I knew lots of people that traveled without guidebooks (but I thought they were insane of course). Third - I just tried to let go... you know, go with the flow. Then finally I convinced myself to go back outside in the late afternoon heat because if there was ever a place where I would recover a lost guidebook... it would be in Asia. Four and a half hours had passed since I had been at the bank and I wearily returned to the ATM machine. There it was - my crumpled, ripped up, Malaysian section of my guidebook with my ATM receipt folded neatly on top.

Then I remembered what Asia has taught me to believe in - it was that good ol' humanity shining through again.

Same Same..But Different

flower-lily — Sat, 1 Dec 2007 15:55:00 GMT

"Same same...but different." The Thai women say when they are trying to sell you a dress or scarf of another color or style - inevitably not the one you want. Same Same but Different is how I feel about my first three days in Malaysia. The main differences are the fusion of Malay, Chinese and Indian cultures creating the mixing pot of Peninsular Malaysia. With so many different languages converging, Malaysia has seemed to chose English as the common spoken and written word.

After four weeks in Thailand, I learned how to say hello/good-bye (the same word), vegetarian, delicious, thank-you, island and noodle. I have a feeling that mastering the same vocabulary in Malaysia will take some studying. As another Farang told me, it is hard to tell what language to use in Malaysia because it depends on whom you are speaking. In her attempts at fitting in, she began speaking the wrong language (ie Chinese) to someone of a different culture (ie Thai) which proved very offensive. Best to just stick with English was her advice.

I have spent the last three days on the west coast of Pulau Langkawi at the beach area called Pantai Cenang, a mellow and yet over-priced gem. The island is currently gearing up for a famous air show - a focal point for the defense industry. I have been hearing loud fighter jets flying over this peaceful island and I am reminded of the Blue Angels show down on Lake Washington this past summer. The air show reminds me that many places in the world are not at peace and the sounds of a fighter jet is not simply for a fancy air show elsewhere.

My new hobby on Langkawi is frequenting every mini-mart and pharmacy. I usually don't buy anything but browse the interesting items on the shelves. Last night I discovered something called Royal Pigeon Brand Medicinal Treatment and I really wanted to buy it - mostly for the cute pigeons but I couldn't figure out exactly what it was trying to cure.

One of the differences in Malaysia is the quality chocolate which seemed to be lacking in Thailand. While browsing yet another mini-mart, I discovered the same chocolate I had bought six years ago in Belgium - shaped as seashells. Seems the trade routes in Malaysia have an open door policy for European chocolate.

During the last day and a half, I have eaten my worst meal in Asia as well as my best. For dinner my second night, I went to a restaurant recommended in my travel guide and ordered something with fish. What came from the kitchen was something resembling cat food shaped in a large "fish" meatloaf. I found a few pieces of squid inside and one shrimp but nothing else was distinguishable. When the waiter came to clear the plate he asked, "Why you not finish Miss?" Umm...I think I muttered something about it being too much food to eat, so the waiter packed it up for me to take home and enjoy later.

After not getting food poisoning from the fishloaf, I decided to trust the guidebook with another dinner recommendation. Still craving protein, I ordered another fish dish. This one was elegantly prepared with saffron rice, fresh white fish, sweet banana, bean sprouts and a green vegetable possibly from the cactus family - no spikes though. Delicious.

Today I will take another ferry to the island of Penang, South of Puala Langkawi. My guidebook notes that Penang attracts dreamers, artists, intellectuals, scoundrels and dissidents, and it is one of Malaysia's... must-see stops on the Asian overland trail. With a description like that, how can I not go?

Scooter Lady & Other...Friends

flower-lily — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 23:07:00 GMT

Asia has brought me more faith in humanity.

Lets start with our last night in Satun. A sign at the front desk of our hotel reads "currency exchange" so I inquire about getting some Malaysian Ringgits. The hotel manager fetches another man from the back who beckons me to follow him out of the hotel.

In the darkness I follow him across the street and down the block - all the while telling myself no one wants to steal my money, credit cards, IPod, passport or camera that are attached to my body. The man opens a metal gate that is in front of a little shop...I follow him inside to where a couple old ladies are sitting surrounded by cigarette cartons. They speak in Thai and point at me while I try to look "normal." Then one of the ladies leads me threw another door made of glass...to yet another lady counting money at a desk with her man friend in a windowless room. They then give me the weak exchange rate for my US dollars, copy my passport and scoot me out the door. Safe into the night.

This morning, I hugged Ashley good-bye (as she set off to an island yoga retreat) for a couple weeks till we meet again. No sooner had I left the hotel with my big backpack, did a lady on a scooter stop me, "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Umm..to the bus stop...by Seven-Eleven...to the pier...to Pulau Langkawi...to Malaysia..." I try to explain. She points down the road toward 7-11...so I walk there. Scooter Lady is waiting for me. She asks the people standing around about the bus...they point across the street. She asks the taxi drivers and the sea-law drivers for help. "Don't worry. I will take care of you," she tells me. Did I look worried?

"Get on the back of my scooter," she points. I point to my backpack towering over my head. "I am too heavy," I hesitate, but she insists. Forgetting the bus, I ride on the back of her scooter for about ten minutes before she stops at a little eatery with a sea-law parked outside. She explain to the driver where I need to go and tells me it is 20 Baht (about 60-70 US cents). She gives me her phone number and tells me to call her if I am in trouble. Her name is Sow and she won't take any money. Then I am off to the pier with some Muslim women in a truck of vegetables.

At the pier a man helps me with my bag and points me to the ferry ticket office - not yet open. I find a coffee stand and have two cups of fresh coffee. I see my friend John, the Taiwanese man from our hotel in the ferry line. He invites me to stay with him at his hotel for free in Langkawi but I tell him I am going to the beach.

I clear customs in Thailand and get onto the "ferry" for Malaysia. They are playing the theme song for Titanic so I feel strangely reassured as I note the life jackets on the wall. John sits by me and tells me all about his business as a fish farmer. He is going to Malaysia to check his "cages." Then he tells me good places to visit in Malaysia and Bali as well as the places to steer clear from.

I clear customs in Malaysia - no questions asked. John arranges a taxi for me across the island to Pantai Cenang - the beach area where I want to stay. We part ways and I travel by taxi to the beach, only to find the hotel already full. The taxi driver walks me to two more hotels before I find one with a room. A double room costing almost $20 US - but I am hot and tired, so I take it.

The taxi driver leaves me at the AB Motel and goes back to get my backpack at the first hotel. I am slowly noting the contents in my backpack that I can live without if he decides to steal it. I wait almost 20 minutes for him to return. But he returns.

Welcome to Malaysia.

Last Night in Thailand

flower-lily — Tue, 27 Nov 2007 21:40:00 GMT

After bidding farwell to our few friends in Ton Sai we boarded a long tail boat back to the mainland and ended up in Krabi for the second time. This time we actually stayed in town - at a place called GOOD DREAM hotel - where their motto was: not buying expensive furniture/art deco in order to keep their rooms affordable for backpackers. Did you come here to look at the art on the walls or to sleep? A basic clean bedroom after six nights in a bug-net-bungalow seemed luxurious enough to me. The shower was almost hot as well.

Yesterday we left Krabi and bused further South to Satun a town near the Malaysian border. Satun had much to be desired - such as English speakers, resturants and budget logging for backpackers but alas we did find the one travel agent in town.
She sat down with us for over an hour to give Ashley detailed advice on how to do a one-day visa run into Malaysia. The agent drew maps and wrote out instructions in both Thai and English. She then brought out a map of my next destination in Malaysia - Pulau Langkawi and recommended places to stay on the island. All the while she was also tutoring her sons with their homework and would accept no payment from us for her services.

Back at our hotel in Satun, I ran into an older man who cheerfully asked, "Where do you come from? Do you speak English?" So I tell him Seattle and he said he spent three weeks there; he is from Taiwan and his name is John. John then invited me and Ashley to dinner with him and his friends. Feeling a little under-the-weather from our 5+ hour bus trip we opted for some curry dishes at the restaurant next door.

I have come to notice that Asian people think nothing to stop you in the street and ask, "Where did you come from?" And by that they mean your nationality as well as just today... Which is almost inevitably followed by "Where are you going?" And well, most backpackers don't know exactly where they are going... but I have learned to be ready with an answer of sorts regardless.

Such as... "I think tomorrow I will go to Malaysia...then after that to Bali...then I don't know. Do you have any suggestions?"

The Yellow Shirt Honor

flower-lily — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 21:47:00 GMT

"Is it Monday?" Ashley asked as we walked towards the beach in search of sweet mango sticky rice.

"Sounds good." I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I just saw a yellow shirt," Ashley pointed at the last passerby.

Of course it's Monday then!

Every Monday most people in Thailand wear their special Yellow King Shirt to show their true affection for the nation's glorious leader. And yellow is the King's favorite color one should note.

Most days of the week have long been forgotten in the land of the traveler... until Monday rolls around again. Even Lucy has a Yellow King Shirt in her closet to blend in at Chaing Mai University. Imagine if everyone in the States wore a special color one day a week for our President?