Asia Pictures And Videos

 Below are links to some 700 + pictures and twelve videos. I apologize for the shots of my thumb, the ground, and utter blackness, but hopefully there aren't too many of those. I hope you find a few images that convey to you the moments of wonder and astonishment, of horror and joy and the undeniable resiliency of the human spirit that I experienced .

Most especially let me thank you for letting me share this journey with you. The encouragement I have received from so many people means a lot to me.

My best wishes to you and your families.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Day.

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VIDEOS ARE  here


PICTURES (click the text link to see album)

Bangkok

Siem Reap and Temples

Tuol Sleng and The Killing Fields of Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh To Saigon

Saigon To Hanoi

Halong Bay

Mekong Mini's

Image by victoriapeckham via Flickr

The following is a short compendium of odds and ends that were not worthy of blog posts, yet somehow struck me as worthy of note.

• The tractor in Cambodia with the Nebraska plates.
• Durian fruit expressly forbidden in my Saigon Hotel
• The "no grenades" policy at my hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Perhaps they had a bad experience
• Trying to eat a whole crab swimming in sweet chili sauce in the shell with only chopsticks while respecting local dining customs
• Four people on one scooter, a relatively common sight
• Cambodia actually has a shopping channel
• The 60 year old mamsan who worked at my hotel in Siem Reap, calmly joining me at my table to roll a joint as I ate my breakfast
• The street vendor in Hanoi who proudly displayed the barbecued dogs head as he cut up the meat. I give him points for honesty, but no thanks, I had dog for breakfast. I drew the line at frog, or at least I hope I did.
  
• The "psychic" in Thailand who tried to hustle me by telling me I had a "funny face", causing a fellow traveler to laugh out loud as he passed by.
  

And lastly, this exchange with a girl of about ten, who was trying to sell me bracelets just outside Angkor Wat, Cambodia.

Girl: Do you want to buy my bracelets?
Me: No, thank you
Girl: Very nice gift for your wife!
Me: I don't have a wife
Girl: Then nice gift for your girlfriend!
Me:  I don't have a girlfriend
Girl:  Do you know why you don't have a wife or a girlfriend?
Me:  No, I don't
Girl: Because you don't buy my bracelets!

I simply could not argue with that kind of iron clad logic, and, of course I bought a bracelet.

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578 what now????

Image by kalleboo via Flickr

Given that I am a long way from where I need to be to get my ass home and that I am leaving in less than a week, I decide that today might be a good day to formulate some sort of exit strategy.

Given that it is probably about 3000km overland back to Bangkok, my plan has always been to fly to Thailand. Besides, I'm pretty sure that I read somewhere a few months ago on the internet that regional flights are pretty cheap. I think.

Lucky for me there is a travel agent right next door to my hotel. Of course the Old Quarter of Hanoi seems to be nothing but boutique hotels, travel agents, Pho joints and coffee houses.

I walk into the travel agent and make an enquiry. For some reason travel agents use the phone here, despite the fact that they have a web enabled computer in front of them. Who am I to question local wisdom?

After several attempts, the very nice lady gets a human on the line. After several minutes of Vietnamese banter she hangs up the phone, does a little math and quotes me a price of $578 US.

I do a double take. She explains that the price is for business class, as that is all that is available. I thank her for her time and slink out into the mid afternoon mayhem. Feeling stunned and a little hungry, I find a cafe, order lunch and ponder my options.

There is no way that I am paying $578us for a one way ticket to Bangkok, but this means a journey back from whence I came. Train back to Saigon, some unknown bus arrangement across Cambodia, and yet another bus from the Thai border to Bangkok. As much as I have enjoyed seeing the countryside of all three of these nations, the prospect of re-seeing it is somewhat less palatable.

I finish lunch and head back to my hotel, where there is free net access. After conducting my own research, it appears that I should be able to get a flight for about $200us, which is what I had originally budgeted. Buoyed, I head out to another travel agent and tell them my story.

They shake their head and begin searching. It takes about half an hour, but I eventually leave with ticket in hand, total cost $217.

That feels a lot better.

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unPHOgettable

Image by °Florian via Flickr

If you are going to travel in Asia, I strongly reccomend that you cast aside your silly fears and plunge in to the gastronomic treasure trove of cheap eats that abound.

There are only three rules:

• Be open and adventurous
• Follow the locals
• The hotel dining room should only be used for breakfast, only because it represents the closest access to coffee

Throw away all pretensions of dining and you will be richly rewarded. If you are prepared to crouch on a miniscule stool on a sidewalk blessings will rain upon you from the culinary gods above. Not only will you swoon at the cavalcade of flavour, you will save a great deal of money and be given unteachable insights into the local culture.

From a bowl of Tom Yam soup consumed inches from Bangkok traffic, to stellar Khmer barbecue eaten as hookers try to sell me their wares, to a bowl of Vietnamese Pho served in the wee smalls of a drunken evening, the dirt cheap gastronomic riches abound with nary a tablecloth in sight.

Recipes perfected through the centuries and served with a pride that MacDonalds and its mass produced bretheren could never comprehend are ubiquitous. And don't even get me started on the orgasmic delicacy that is Vietnamese iced coffee.

I must confess however that I did break form one evening in Phnom Penh and went for a gnosh at The Foreign Correspondants Club. The very name conjures images of late seventies journalists rushing to get that last dispatch out to the telex as Pol Pot's henchmen come marching down the road. The thing is however, that the joint has only been open for about ten years. The branding was brilliant enough to fool a New York times travel writer, causing a retraction to be subsequently printed. Nonetheless, the gorgeous French Colonial building overlooking the river provided a great ambience while I supped on some Osso Buco.

Gotta run, I'm feeling a little peckish.

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Adieu, Cambodia

Image via Wikipedia

My travels in Cambodia have left my mind filled with images of magnificence, horror, resiliency, and the tragic legacy of long ago rampant insanity.

One of the first things that struck me was the gentle and cajoling nature among the people I saw. The people I met had a great sense of play between one another, and if you get to know them a bit, they will include you. I had a great many laughs with people here as they teased me and I teased them back, all in good fun of course.

While Cambodia has returned to normalcy of a sort, the poverty here is unconcionable. The legacy of landmines from the Khmer Rouge days is still in evidence, as many young people who were not even alive during the Pol Pot years. Missing limbs are everywhere, the victims ranging from the very young to the elderly.

As I was dining one night, I saw one man begging on the patio. It was hard for him to put his hand out to beg as he had to drag his legless torso around with his arms. Without question, it is one of the most gut wrenching sights I have ever scene. Doubtless, he lives on the street. For him, there is no welfare cheque.

After I had given him some money, a fellow diner came over and shook my hand. This made me cringe, as I was literally doing the least I could do.

Another scene I witnessed was two parents sorting through garbage on the street, while their two very young children slept on the sidewalk, curled up beside a building. I could go on and on and on, but you get the idea.

Yet in the face of all this, hope persists, a shred of a thread that maybe things can get better. After all, these folks have taken the very worst that humankind has to offer, and they continue to press on. They will be forever in my heart, and never far from my mind.

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Phnom Penh Mannix

Image via Wikipedia

After getting back to my hotel from Tuol Sleng, The Killing Fields, and The Grand Palace, I am happy that I was able to accomplish so much on my first day in Cambodia's capital. I lay on my bed and begin to realise that the weird sensations afflicting me are not the product of emotion and sun exposure. Periodically, I have been having odd head rushes, as if the Purple Microdot is about to kick in. Sadly, it never does.

I have a chronic cough, chills, sweats, and my ears are plugged, making communication even more arduous. In addition, every joint in my body aches. Realising that I cannot continue to travel in this state, I confine myself to my bed for a few days, slithering out from the confines of the Jockey Hotel only when necessary.

On one such sojourn I am dining streetside, look out at the very busy Monivong Blvd. As I gnosh away, I am buoyed to see the staff gather for an evening meal. I like places that feed their staff as it says something about the integrity of the ownership, especially in a country this poor.

I request my bill, glance at it and pull out some Riel to settle. Suddenly, an audible gasp rises from the patio. I look up to see a scooter careening off the small median, struggling to regain its balance. About ten feet behind the scooter I see a pedestrian trying to do the same. Clearly she is stunned and injured.

The scooter, having recovered its equilibrium, begins to race off into the night when out of nowhere a Phnom Penh Mannix runs after him and horsetackles driver and scooter, sending both crashing to the ground in a way that puts me in the mind of The Calgary Stampede.

All of this happens in the span of about eight seconds. I commend the young man, his reaction was not considered, but instinctive, reinforcing my notion that most people do the right thing in the unconsidered instance.

A crowd gathers around both involved parties. One women on a scooter has pulled over and appears to have some medical acumen. The women is laid down on the median, and eventually an ambulance arrives. I hope her injuries are no too serious.

Phnom Penh Mannix, you will never read this, and I will never know who you are, but I am humbled by your instinctive decency. Thank you for teaching me.

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Tuol Sleng - S21

Tuol Sleng is a former school in the heart of Phnom Penh. It was later converted to an interrogation and torture chamber. Prisoners would pass through here before being shipped off to The Killing Field.

As I walk through here I find it difficult to maintain my composure. I hear gasps and sobs coming from others around me. The severity of this abomination against the human spirit makes this place by far the worst thing I have ever seen. Perhaps the recentness of the events here gives it more impact.

This happened in my lifetime, I tell myself, shaking my head with disbelief. I avert my gaze from the others around me, fearing even the most minor connection with another human being will send me into some uncontrollable emotional abyss.

Note the juxtoposition of the bed frame used to torture people and the classroom blackboard.

I have no more words.

The Temples Of Siem Reap

Image by victoriapeckham via Flickr

It is impossible to truly convey the wonders that I have witnessed in the last two days. The temples around Siem Reap must be felt as much as seen.
The first visit is to Angkor Wat, the grandaddy of them all. Built in 1180 or thereabouts, it was once a canal city, home to tens of thousands.

In some spots the carvings on its walls and towers are so detailed and ornate, it is as if the each inch is trying to outdo the previous, in an unimaginable frenzy of miraculous detail. Yet there it is, the impossible fact of this place, undeniable to my own eyes.

The temples of Siem Reap rival the most monumental accomplishments by humans. The Pyramids. The Colisseum. Machu Picchu. The Great Wall. Angkor Wat.

My guide (Pov, pronounced Pow) and I visit several other temples over two days. One is a temple overrun by giant trees, whose roots have enveloped the temple, like a mother that cannot let go.

At one point Pov leads me into a small self contained chamber, sort of like a large chimney. He motions for me to stand in a specific spot and indicates that I should make a fist and bang it against my heart. I do so and am gobsmacked at the result.

A reverbation emanates from within me, creating a sound like a low octave gong that goes off for several seconds. My jaw drops and my knees buckle at the complexity of this acoustical magic. This is a moment that will not soon be forgotten.

Pov also shows me a spot where tree roots have enveloped a wall, but in a small gap between the roots a randomly placed carved face peeks out, as if the roots had purposefully grown around the face, so as not to obstruct its view.

The face seemed to wear a grin and had a twinkle in its eye that seemed to say "I know things that you'll never understand, and it is very funny to me".

Indeed we are standing on the shoulders of giants.

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Siem Reap

After checking into my hotel, I am both famished and exhausted. I am also still trying to get my head around the fact that I am in Cambodia.

Its about 4pm and I opt for sleep over sustinence, mostly because the bed is closer than the food. I wake up around 6:30pm, disoriented and with hair that would make Einstein smirk. It is dark out and I have no bearings. Tentatively, I head out into the night. There are streetlights here, but not one of them is operational.

The street is busy with an endless stream of scooters, motorbikes and tuk tuks, with the oddly rare car thrown in. I head down of the main roads, which is unpaved. The dust kicked up and lit by the scooters, produces a spooky and cloudy luminescence, through which I am trying to find my way.

I feel like I am in the opening scene of a movie that is not going to end well. It feels like a scooter riddled Asian version of Tombstone, Arizona.

In the light of day this locale is much less foreboding. I walk around the town and find a delightful array of restaurants, markets and stores. Siem Reap is unabashedly a tourist town, being the Gateway to Angkor Wat and the many other magnificent temple ruins in the area.

As I walk around, I hear the exact same refrain from every lady in front of each shop. Hello sir! You buy something sir? Feeling peckish, I opt for breakfast, giving in to the exhortation of a young lady. I am seated in a little patio, right by the entrance. As I quaff my coffee, a monk approaches carrying a pot.

After a moment, a lady from the cafe approaches with a Sprite, which she reverently passes to the monk with both hands. He then places it in the pot. The monk then offers a blessing, and I bow my head in some lame attempt to show reverence. Before I am finished my breakfast, the scene is repeated with a different monk.

I never saw that at The Detroit Eatery.

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Crosstown Traffic

Welcome to Cambodia. please note the time change and set your watch back 112 years.

After finally getting a cab ride from the border to Siem Reap, I begin to get the sense that I am in a place very different from Thailand. The road is clogged with oxcarts, all manner of motorbikes and wagons piled absurdly high with goods and humans.

The driving experience here is also very different, and I begin to regret having paid extra to get the front seat. Protocol dictates that slower traffic keep right. This includes motorbikes,scooters, oxcarts, carts being pulled by people and uncarted oxen just out for a stroll.

All of this traffic takes a significant portion of the lane on each side, leaving cars and trucks the other 55% of the road to share. This results in driving down the centre line as being the norm, which is great fun until an oncoming car or truck approaches. Thats when the game of chicken begins as each driver leans on the horn, exhorting the other to pull over.

The first time this happens, I become acutely aware of my own mortality. I've had a good life with no regrets and if it ends here, so be it. Just let my Mom know that she shouldn't bother getting my body shipped home. A funeral pyre in front of Angkor Wat will suffice.

Of course I arrive safely in Siem Reap, and ensconce myself at the "No Problem Villa". As I head to my room I notice a sign in the hallway. No Drugs. No Guns. No Grenades.

I'm starting to like this place already.

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Borderline Behaviour

Image via Wikipedia

As I exit the train at Aranyaprathet, I am immediatly met by a tuk tuk driver, offering to drive me to the Cambodian border. I ask the price, and given that it is only slightly higher than the price quoted by fellow travelers, I accept without bargaining.

The reason that I know the price is that I stumbled upon a website called seat61.com , an invaluable resource for anyone traveling anywhere by rail, bus or boat. If you plan to travel anywhere in the world, I give this site my highest recommendation.

This site has also made me aware of a scam that is well known at this obscure border crossing, known as the fake Thai border.

Basically, this is how it works. My tuk tuk driver drives me to the border, but takes a right turn just before reaching the actual border. It is a slightly official looking place, and the Thai people there will try to convince you that this is the border, and they are wearing fake badges around their neck in an weak attempt to add authenticity.

There is a desk and a covered area and a bunch of hacks trying their best to look official. Having read about this, I know exactly where I am and what is happening, unlike many of my fellow travelers.

Essentially, these guys are offering to get your visa for you for $40 instead of $20, which is the actual price. At this point, I am tired and I just want to get into Cambodia, though I know that I am being conned. I don't mind paying the extra $20 to have someone do the legwork for me.

If you don't want to pay the extra money, just grab your gear, ignore these guys and proceed to the border, where you can fill out the paperwork yourself.

The real scam is booking your taxi from the Thai side. DO NOT DO THIS! Myself and another young lady were left hanging for more than an hour in Cambodia waiting for a shared taxi to fill up, even though I'd been assured on the Thai side that I was the fourth person, thus completing the ride, giving the impression that I would be whisked away as soon as I arrived at the taxi area in Poipet.

Tired, hungry and angry, I began telling my fellow travelers not to trust or pay anyone until a cab was directly in front of them and their bags were being loaded.

Interestingly eneough, when I began to publicly dissuade others from making the same mistake I had, I was whisked into a cab within moments, Apparently scammers don't like it when you start to expose their scam to other potential victims.

In short, you don't have to listen to anybody at the fake Thai border, but at least they do help you get your visa. At least they provide a service, though I did laugh audibly when they started asking for a tip.

However, under no circumstances should you pay for transportation from the Thai side to Siem Reap. It is a scam run by a bunch of weasels looking to take advantage of your fear and ignorance. Do not buy into it.

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Riding The Rails

Image via Wikipedia

While reasearching this trip, I was delighted to find that there were multiple opportunities for rail travel. The first being a journey from Bangkok to Aranyaprathet, a small town near the Cambodian border. The plan was to catch the 5:55am train, as this was the only way to make it into Cambodia in one day by train, as the border closes at 8pm.

I get back to my hotel in Bangkok around 1am, after killing the evening on a patio in Khao San Road. I sleep fitfully, fearful of missing my 4am wakeup call.

After a series of short naps, I drag my ass out of bed and check out. As usual, I am running about a half hour behind my self imposed schedule. I exit the hotel and throw my bag into the back of a taxi when I hear a voice calling from the hotel, Sir sir!

The front desk is claiming that I owe them for one beer from the minibar.

They are incorrect, but I understand why they are saying this and the reasons are far too convoluted and boring to go into detail here.

I have neither the time nor the will to have an argument over such a trifle. I race back up to the mezzanine and pay the money, knowing they will realize their honest mistake later.

In short, I would advise all travelers who avail themselves of a minibar, to make sure that the maid makes up their room everyday, if only to keep an accurate tab. I thought I was giving the maid a break, but it cost me, more in aggravation than the small amount of money involved.

Now I am really behind and a lot hinges on getting my boney ass on this train. Fortunately, the magnificent train station is not far, and I make it with about three minutes to spare.

As expected, this particular route is run by a very basic train , and is very crowded. The seating is about as luxurious as your average subway. I find myself seated on a bench seat intended for three, with a similiar seat facing me, though it is hard to complain about the seating when my over five hour journey cost me less than two dollars, cheaper than a transit fare in Toronto.

I am also happy to be leaving Bangkok, and looking forward to getting off the beaten path. While Bangkok is a wonderful place, it is rife with the same indifference that is the hallmark of any large city.

The train heaves forward with an increasing clickety clack., as the receding city sparkles in the Bangkok dawn.

The train makes many stops, each at increasingly smaller stations. My seat mates change several times. At one point a lovely Thai lady who looks to be thirtyish joins me. At the next stop, a group of young boys dressed in sports uniforms board.

The lady engages them, and she and the kids are sharing laughs together. I desperately wish I could join in, but no matter.

Sometimes you don't need to understand the language to realize the true beauty of a fellow human being.

The Thai countryside rolls by as tuk tuks give way to oxen and shanty's are replaced by rice paddies. For the first time I feel that my journey is truly underway.

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We, The Pamperazzi

Tonight as I left Khao San Road, I saw two Thai children of about four years old playing happily. Normally, this would be a scene that would bring a twinkle to my eye, but this image was different.

The children were playing with a pile of garbage. I thought briefly about taking a picture, but given that it was late in the evening, a flash would be required, and in addition, I am uncomfortable with the idea of taking such a picture without permission from the parents.

I turned away as my eyes began to well up at the sheer inequity of human existence.

When I had the privilege of seeing Bill Clinton speak this summer, the thing that struck me most was his statement that " if you were given any choice about what to do with your life, you are among an elite one or two percent of all the human beings who have ever walked this planet".

My guess is that those kids I saw tonight are not among that elite percentile.

I wish that I had been able to take that picture so that I could show it to myself and my fellow Canadians when we begin to whine because our petty little desires are not being met.

The more I travel, the more I realise what a petty bunch of self absorbed people many of us are.

So much to be grateful for, yet so little gratitude.

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From The Theoretical To The Real

So in a few weeks I am going to points unknown. Passport? check. Vaccines and meds? check. Plane ticket? check.

One month of my life soaking in as much of the human experience as I can.

From the bloated and fat sex tourists of Bangkok, to the magic of Angkor Wat, the despair of  the Killing Fields and S-21.  Saigon, Phnom Penh, Hanoi, Halong Bay and Hue and god knows what in between.

Its the adventure of a lifetime, and I am so blessed that the stars aligned to give me this opportunity. Hopefully, I'll find the right moment to give back along the journey.

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