thehostelwitness

Thai Lunar New Year, Udon Thani

Jane is a 7 year old girl that's attached herself to me at the hip. In the morning when the vans pull into the orphanage, the kids stream out of buildings and drop whatever they are doing, screaming in excitement. Within five seconds of stepping out of the van, Jane's there.

"Jiff! Jiff!"

Jake is a little too hard for her to say, so my name to the Thais reverts to a peanut butter brand. I don't mind though, its better than the other nickname they've given me. Its "Iguana".

Joi is older, about 14 year old and a smart, gifted girl who hopes to one day be a doctor. She's painfully shy when it comes to me showing any affection, whether its a hug or even a wave, but she was the first one to give me a love note and a picture of herself. She's has a beautiful smile.

Uu bawled today as I was preparing to leave. I only met her yesterday, but she took to the attention like a moth to flame. She wants to be a tour guide when she's done with school. Once she broke, the other girls started to cry and soon I had everyone in tears around me.

Monkey is the nickname I've given to Noon, an athletic girl who loves to kick box at flowers and having discovering my ticklishness, assaults me from all corners when I'm not paying attention. She's also the one that gave me the Iguana nickname.

Nom is a beautiful girl, but a loner who isn't really comfortable around her friends when I'm there. I found that the best way to make her happy is to give her the Nikon and let her walk around with the camera. The funny thing is that she doesn't take any pictures, she just likes looking through the lens and holding the camera next to her. She is completely content just sitting next to me, holding my hand, not saying a word. She has cigarette burns on her arms.

That's just a few of the girls of course and God help me, I love them all. Today Joi wrote me a note - in Thai - that when I had it translated summed up all their feelings and mine as well. They were sad to see me go, even for just a bit, that they loved me, and they hope that I can be their older brother - I've got over a hundred little sisters right now.

It doesn't matter if you can't understand them. It doesn't matter if you can't entertain them with songs or gifts. The most important thing to these girls is that you give them your time and lots and lots of hugs. Its been the most profound, moving experience of my entire life. Of course I have to come back.

Yesterday was the Thai Lunar New Year and we celebrated in appropriate Thai fashion - an epic water fight. People also threw handfuls of talcum powder at everyone, so by the end of it all you look like a proper antique. I looked up at one point to see 15 girls surrounding me with water balloons in their hands. I was destroyed. By the end of the day, buckets of water had been dumped on me and I had powder caked over every square inch of my body. It was fantastic. We closed the night with a huge barbecue and dance fest, with the girls forming a huge circle and showing off their moves. When they pushed me into the middle, everyone - and I mean everyone - screamed their heads off in a Beatles like frenzy and I froze in awe, speechless. That one moment made up for my entire high school experience!

The Udon Thani Home for Girls, Udon Thani

I guess you could say that I've been putting off writing about my experience at the orphanage this week because its evolved to become one of the most intensely personal affairs I've ever been involved in. The stories are there, but until I can put them to words and have a better understanding of whats going on, I'm afraid the description is going to be a bit objective. The orphanage is home to over 250 girls, from newborns to 18 year olds, who have either lost their parents, were given up by their families, or can no longer be supported by relatives who may have taken them in. Of the 250, 20 are newborn babies and twice that number are pre-kindergarten. 23 of the girls are HIV positive (actually, found out its all full AIDS). The girls are free to stay at the orphanage until they finish high school - if they make it into a college, the orphanage allows them to stay on longer so they will have a place to sleep. Otherwise, there is nothing more they can do for them. The little ones have a good shot at being adopted, but there were some teenagers that had been there their entire life.

It was my understanding that upon arriving, I would be teaching English, but the truth of the matter is that all week I've just been in the playground, playing volleyball with the older girls, swinging around the younger ones, and reaching out to the quieter girls who sit on the edges of it all. There are about 30 of us in the group I traveled with here, all out of the Eastlake Community Church in Kirkland, and every morning we are mobbed by the kids as they see us pull into the parking lot. We've done some work laying dirt for some sod later on, some painting, cleaning - but the focus has been to interact with the children.

The tears can hit you at anytime: tickling a 5 year old, laughing, when the thought that they have no siblings or parents to do this for them hits you. Making a new friend and then realizing that the marks on her legs are cigarette burns from an abusive household. Meeting a girl with HIV...its so hot outside that the tears mix in with the sweat, so no one notices, and you just keep pushing on. And its funny with my half-Asian heritage, the girls think I look like a Korean pop star, so every morning I arrive to a little love note or a stuffed animal or even a sketch of me done the night before. That there is so much love here, in this dirty, isolated orphanage, is a testament to the spirit of the Thai people. I'm truly touched and humbled.   

In a few days, we take a break and move on to Krabi for a bit of R&R. At that point, the church group will head home, but I'll be coming back. Definitely. I just don't see how i could possibly leave yet. The director has indicated that she is thinking about another role instead of teaching, which sounds promising, but more on that later. 

Udon Thani itself is a pretty non-descript town. No major temples, no huge tourist attraction. The benefit of that though is you get to see a real part of Thailand. We took a tour of a school about two hours out of town and pulled into a little village that had never seen westerners before - so it is possible, even in Thailand, to find a new little corner to explore. And its in these corners that you see the true nature of the Thais. They are a lovely, gentle people. The group had arranged to donate some computer equipment and books to the local school and the entire village turned out to welcome us with food, dancers - the whole nine yards. It was incredible. They took us on a tour of their weaving facilities and showed us how they make silk in their traditional ways.

Its also in these small towns that you get an introduction to some local eating customs...namely fried beetles, boiled silkworms, and ant larvae salad. The beetles taste like peanuts, the ant larvae kind of like a lima bean, but the boiled silkworms I skipped. I was afraid that my stomach couldn't handle it.

More to come - adventures in Thai massage, the Urinal incident, and what happens when someone (not me) orders sushi in Thailand. 

Also...the Eastlake folks are running a blog just on the experience, which will provides a great context as to the daily life around here. Its being updated regularly and is the spot for what actually goes on around here on a day by day basis: http://udonthaniorphanage.blogspot.com/

Cheers.

New photographs

I've added photosets for Melbourne as well as Sydney tonight - enjoy!

Banglamphu, Bangkok

"No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk. No, I don't want a Tuk Tuk."

No, its not slang for street-side gastrointestinal surgery. For those that have never been, a Tuk Tuk is a three wheeled taxi that comes with an automated human who continually encourages you to jump on for a ride using the only two English words he knows. Sometimes, these Tuk Tuks come with a broker who will come up to you, start polite conversation, and then sadly inform you that your destination is closed today for a national holiday. But, he knows of a much better place and will put you on a Tuk Tuk that will gladly take you there for a small fee. The first time it happened to me, I ended up letting the guy map out all of these alternative places to visit before the thought occurred to me that I was being hustled. By the tenth time, I had it all figured out: every time I was approached, when they asked me how long I had been in Bangkok, I replied 6 months. That was enough for them to wish me a nice day.

I must have heard the Tuk Tuk phrase about 500 times today during my sojourn around the Banglamphu neighborhood. Banglamphu is pretty much "Old Bangkok" and where you will find a jaw-dropping amount of temples, Buddhas, and the famous Golden Palace of Thailand. In all of my travels - in all of them - I have never seen so much in terms of beautiful architecture than I have in just one day in Bangkok. It was amazing and the fact that Old Bangkok isn't held in such revered terms as say, the Vatican, is shocking to say the least. Golden spires rising high into the sky, saffron-robed monks weaving through throngs of tourists, women lighting devotions for their daily prayers - welcome to Banglamphu. Words can't describe it and I'm quite afraid that my pictures won't be able to, either. Its just something you need to see for yourself.

By the afternoon, I was ready to venture into "New" Bangkok. Consulting my handy little map, I figured it would be a nice little stroll to get to Silom, one of the epicenters of the newer boutique-styled hostels and A/C shopping areas. Two hours later, I was still walking. About 45 minutes into my walk, a Tuk Tuk driver had pestered me for my destination and when I told him, it was the only thing that would shut him up to leave me alone - it was far enough that the Tuk Tuks didn't want to go. By the time I arrived, I was a mess. The hostel where I was staying at - one of the nicest in terms of the building and the staff - rushed me a bottled water and asked me why, oh why, would I ever walk that distance? 

Well, apparently they haven't been reading this blog. Everyone knows, I'm an idiot.

Anyway, risking heat stroke and sweating through your pants is one way of seeing the smaller parts of Bangkok. Even in a city dominated by travelers, the long stretch between Old Bangkok and New is enough to scare most people away, so I was able to discover markets and food stalls where finally, the sight of a westerner was enough to raise a few eye brows. This stretch is one of the few that feature small canals and waterways, evidence of the city's old heritage as the "Venice of the East". Its a remarkable transition and easily stands out as the "missing link" in the city's evolution. 

Bangkok is an amazingly clean city. It really does remind me of New York in terms of cleanliness and size, something that even Singapore was a bit lacking in. Full time street sweepers are employed to brush leaves off of the sidewalk for crying out loud. And Khao San, the famous backpacker ghetto, is slowly becoming gentrified to the point where even the go-go bars and prostitutes are avoiding the area. And really, where's the fun in that?

Speaking of the - ahem- professional class of Bangkok. As a local informed me, if the woman walking in front of you has nice, long legs, chances are its not a woman. If the girls sitting in front of the massage parlor are all wearing skirts, chances are its not a massage parlor. And finally, if a pretty local girl approaches you as you sit alone for dinner, chances are she's not there because she thinks you are cute. Call it, the Rule of Three. It kind of all falls into the "if it sounds too good to be true..." category of life in general. Still, walking around here is bewildering in the sense that its a bit funny to be on the other side of the meat market coin for once, even if its just business.

Not that I mind or anything.   

Baan Sabai Guest House, Bangkok

"I come from Thailand - land of the shiny, green suits!"

I arrived only a few hours ago, but already I'm in love with Bangkok. Its the vibe here, completely different than what I encountered in Kuala Lumpur. Its not the people...the locals in KL were so friendly, all offering directions and rides to this place and that, and genuinely interested in what the heck an American is doing at their local haunt. In all of SE Asia so far, the Malaysians have been the nicest people yet. So, even with the people, there's just something about Bangkok and I've just got a feeling that tomorrow is going to prove very interesting.

My room at the Baan Sabai is located in Thailand's famous backpacker district, off of Khaosan Rd. Its your standard backpacker dive, with my room looking more like a windowless jail cell than a room. For 270 baht - or $8 - you do get what you pay for. Another $3 will get you a couple beers and dinner...which naturally enough for my first night in Thailand, had to be Pad Thai.

Its also a place that for all of the tourists and travelers - and there are legions of both here - the locals all remain distinctly Thai.

I ran into a group of American students last night in KL who were on a Semester Abroad trip, which basically consists of 700 college students on a cruise ship for 6 months and earning 12 credits for the experience. HOW DID I NEVER EVER HEAR OF THIS? You mean, instead of spending my first semester at Marquette having my contacts freeze to my eyeballs and watching Dumb and Dumber 4 times in one night for the hell of it, I could have been going from port to port with a shipload of co-eds? The fact that I ended up finishing with only 11 credits that first semester is salt in the wound.

And these were a great group of...oh God I'm going to say it..."kids". They had been away at sea for 3 months already and were greatly interested in the culture of the cities they were visiting, not at all interested in partying from place to place, but wanting to see Mosques, temples, and museums. I was very impressed. It was nice to actually talk with Americans - college students, even -  who didn't say "dude". Next to dressing like a hippy and complaining about the food, I've found "dude" is the easiest "tell" for the American traveler.

It was a great way to wrap up my time in Malaysia, short as it was. I definitely want to return at some point to see the Cameron Highlands and visit the islands on the east coast, but that will have to be at a later date I guess.

So many islands, so little time.

The Golden Triangle, Kuala Lumpur

Isn't it funny how small, seemingly insignificant moments can stick with you forever?  I think my memory of Malaysia can best be summed up by such a moment. Last night in the rain, with the dark all around me,  looking across the street at a table showered with light and two beautiful blonds in cocktail dresses laughing with each other. I must have stood there for ages looking, just a beautiful moment seared into my brain.

Kuala Lumpur is like that moment in many ways. Its a dark, wet city, with litter and noxious odors rising up from exposed sewage drains. Its a nightmare of a city for walking, with sidewalks that end for no particular reason, made out of tiles that have an annoying propensity for promoting falls at the slightest wetness. Very few crosswalks means that your life is quite literally at stake every time you cross one of its many 6 lane intersections. But just as you are about to write the city off, there in the dark rises the glimmer of the Petronas twin towers, like the two blonds, standing out beautifully against the contrasting black all around it.

Its quite a departure from my little beach heaven. I ended up staying in Puala Pangkor for four days in total and it was as lazy and uneventful as predicted. I took up swimming in the mornings, napping in the afternoons, and then walking around taking pictures as the sun fell. Its a bit deceiving, the peace. So much in fact that as I turned the corner one evening, I was faced with a wild pig snorting angrily at me.

Wild pigs living in a jungle, right out of the heart of darkness. He (in my mind, it was a he) stood up to my knee height and after a bit of me standing perfectly absolutely resolutely stone like still, tucked in his tail and marched back into the jungle. It was certainly the last thing I had expected to come across in my little paradise. During the week I had encountered many more monkeys, toucans, and a countless array of kittens and cats prowling the premises. But a killer pig?! Would never have thought about it - and here I left my hunting spear at home.

Back now in Kuala Lumpur, I'm still a bit of sensory overload, with killer cars taking the place of pigs. So I was happy last night to run into a UK'r staying at my hostel last night. Together, we decided to go out and hit a few bars in the Golden Triangle neighborhood. Things here in Malaysia are quite cheap, however the taxes the government issues on beer is outrageous - to the point where it actually costs me more in New York City to drink than it does in Kuala Lumpur. Still, I had been a bit socially starved so the cost was worth it.

My original plan was to spend a couple months traveling through Malaysia, but recently something came up and on Friday I will be flying into Bangkok, Thailand. The "something" actually first came up a year ago. After the company announcement of my departure, I received many calls wishing me well in the coming year. One of these calls came from my friend, Fred. Every year, Fred and his church travel to Udon Thani, Thailand and work for a week at an orphanage there in the city. He invited me to join them if I was in this part of the world in March and even hinted at the possibility of my staying on at the orphanage after he leaves to teach English. I didn't put much thought into it at the time, but last month I received another email from Fred asking me if I was still interested.

So, after a bit of thought I decided to do it. Strange world, no? I'll be in Bangkok for a few days before taking the flight out to Udon Thani, but will spend the better part of the next month or so there. The travel plan, such as it is, is to fly out of Thani on the weekends to explore various parts of Thailand. I'm a bit nervous - terrified, actually - but think that this will be a good experience for me. 

Teluk Batik, Pulau Pangkor

The temperature is easily in the mid-nineties, with a humidity almost as high to match. I've found that on days like today - i.e. every day - the sensible thing to do is to get up early for pictures, head inside in a museum or coffee shop in the afternoon, and then venture out late at night once the cool air has moved in. Otherwise, you just can't function.

Today, I'm spending my afternoon sitting in my little bungalow on Palau Pangkar, a small island about two hours northwest of Kuala Lumpur. It also gets very little mention in Lonely Planet, which could be why I've only seen four Westerners all day. There are only three streets near the beach of Teluk Batik - vendors and food stalls line the main thoroughfare with two smaller streets dotted with restaurants and guest houses making up the rest of the topography.

The island itself no bigger than 12 kilometers and aside from a few outcroppings of settlements, its just hilly jungle. I even got to see my first wild monkey! It was just sitting there on the guard rail, watching the car go by. I'm sure my expression at that time was pretty similar to the monkey's - minus the picking of the butt that was going on when I passed (as to who was picking the butt, well that's between me and monkey).

It seems so far away from Malaka and really, its only about 6 hours in total. I ultimately ended up spending 4 days there, the highlight being my last night which also happened to coincide with a Chinese street festival. Myself, Lucia and Racquelle (two very lovely Portuguese travelers I had met on the public bus - I'm convinced "Lucia" is Portuguese for "legs"), and Yann (a local street vendor who had befriended the two girls) spent the better part of the night downing drinks and randomly sampling the street meat. I bought Yann a Jameson, as he had never had scotch before - not due to the lack of availability of it, but solely for the fact that a single finger of liquor can easily cost him half of his day's wages.

The reality of his everyday life is just shocking. I have always been considered skinny and even now, I'm down to 185 from 205lbs just 7 months ago. Here is a guy who stands shoulder to shoulder with me, who would be lucky to push 120lbs soaking wet. The girls were determined to get some food into him, but he refused, growing quieter and quieter as the night progressed. Its a pretty eye-opening experience - while I'm sure he was grateful for the company, at the same time I could sense a reluctance in him, as well as a bit of sadness, if not bitterness, as if he only really thought about his station in life when sitting next to people his age who live a completely different experience. He's 23, an orphan, and its just him and his sister trying to make it by.

So that ends my haggling, at least in the smaller towns. I might feel better at having saved $10 ringgits on a cab ride, but at the end of the day the three dollars is going to help kids like Yann a lot more than it will me.

From Malaka, I took the bus to Kuala Lumpur. Its amazing how a city of 1.4 million people is almost entirely devoid of sidewalks. I was only staying overnight, so I could hit out for Pangkor early in the morning, so I figured what the hell, I was due a day off.

I've taken two days off in the last six months - which pretty much consists of me sitting in a bathrobe and watching shit movies (speaking of which, "Man of the House" isn't as bad as it would appear - and I stand behind that statement). I don't feel badly at having spent my day in KL indoors - the Petronas Towers will still be there on Wednesday when I return.

In the meantime, it was off to Pangkor. The bus driver was a bit late, which always makes for a fun time as he suddenly turns into the Malaysian Jeff Gordon. I don't think it matters what country you are from, there is nothing more dangerous than a bus driver who is an hour behind schedule. The four hour drive was made longer by the fact that he was trying to play Malaysian karaoke on the dvd player and it was constantly skipping. To give you an idea what it is like, Malaysian music is very similar to Indian music, except if it was the type of stuff coming out 20 years ago. Synthesizers are in, apparently (not that I should be critical of music...when I first heard the term "indie music", I thought it was referring to the rock scene in India).

But anyway, I got here. There can't be more than a thousand inhabitants on this island and while I've read that on weekends, it gets packed to busting with all the holiday travelers from Kuala Lumpour, on a Monday, its virtually deserted. I've got a newspaper and the last few chapters of a book to keep me company tomorrow, the fact of which I plan on taking full advantage of sitting a beach somewhere tomorrow morning.

Eastern Heritage Guest House, Malaka

"Mr. Jacob, officer from the USA!"

I looked up at the sound of my name, still shaking off the rain from the top of my head. It was Lim, the Indonesian woman who was working at the front desk of the guest house when I had checked in earlier. She was sitting on a barstool, leaning over the counter to speak with her friend who was now behind the desk.

Smiling, unsure of how I received a title, I offered a smile. "uh, Hello."

The Eastern Heritage guest house is housed in a picturesque, Chinese building built a hundred years earlier when the British were still administering Malaka. This town is one of Malaysia's most famous cities, attracting scores of Singaporean tourists drawn to its unique heritage and architecture - the throne to a now extinct Malakan empire, ruled by the Dutch, Portuguese, and British, occupied by Japan during the war, and finally home to the Straits Chinese, decedents from mainland immigrants hundreds and hundreds of years ago. The Eastern Heritage is one such remembrance of their presence here, the outside of the building rising three stories tall, with old, intricate wood carvings of flowers running along to the top of the building. Inside, rich, black lacquered hardwoods ran the floor throughout, with a beautiful, old circular staircase that rose to the guest level of the building. The building was old and creaky, with no amenities to speak of, but it was charming. I loved it immediately.

The trip from Singapore to Malaka had taken about 4 hours, but on a spacious bus so I didn't mind it at all. The first thing one notices entering Malaysia are the acres and acres of Palm tree plantations that line the freeway. Its a beautiful sight - until you realize all the native jungle that they dispatched to get it like this. Currency is cheap, with the going rate roughly 6 ringgits to 1 dollar. I laugh now when I was confronted with my roomchoice at the Eastern - 10 ringgits for a dorm bed or double that for a single bed. It took me a second to realize that I was debating over $3. I took the single.

I returned my attention back to Lim, a thirtiesh Indonesian woman who was traveling and working with her Swiss husband. I was still puzzling over how I had become "Mr. Officer Jacob", when she asked me where in the states I was from.

"Seattle...its in Washington."

"Oh, Washington! My friend had to drive to Seattle once, from Virginia. He said it took him 6 hours!"

"No, your friend must have meant Washington DC. I'm from Washington State on the other side of the country."

Her eyebrow rose. "But he said he had to drive there and it only took him 6 hours."

"No, I'm afraid it takes six days just to drive from Seattle to New York."

"Six days!! The United States is so big! But no, he drove. It only took him six hours."

Somewhere, the language difficulties had begun to kick in. But before I could even try to correct Lim, she was off on another tangent.

"Madame!" she addressed her friend, "Can I please borrow your news-paper?"

"Yes," replied her friend, "you may borrow my newspaper!"

They both started laughing. Lim offered an explanation, which for the sake of brevity I'm going to relate into more or less correct English. The newspaper is brought in by the owner of the guest house every day and left there for the staff and residents to enjoy. Apparently three days earlier, a Norwegian man was sitting on the couch with the paper at this table. Thinking it was the copy belonging to the guest house's, Lim took the paper and began reading it with three other friends. As she was reading, the Norwegian man stood up and angrily grabbed it out of her hands.

"You!!!" he started in broken English, "you took my paper! Its my paper!" Lim had proffered an apology for the misunderstanding, but the man had grown incensed. In between his bad English and her broken English, the misunderstanding only served to grow.

A minute later, he was shouting at her and her friends, using obscenities and telling them all to shut up. "And all for an eighty cent newspaper!" offered her husband. 80 cents...or, what would be less far less than a single kroner. Lim proceeded to apologize, but the man - who for whatever reason was acting totally irrational, kept on his tirade until confronted by a room full of travelers and workers, retreated to his room. It should be added that no matter what the circumstance, a traveler should never start shouting at locals nor lose one's temper. No one will side with you and you'll only come out looking, like this man did, as a complete and utter ass. And there are other reasons, which I found out shortly.

"We are a very quiet people," offered Lim. "You do not lose your temper - especially in Malaka! We are a pirate city, you know that right? All through history, its been pirates and the underworld here. And the way he was yelling at me, telling me to fuck off... I tell you what, if my brother were here, he would have killed him.

"No, I am really serious. We do not argue in Indonesia. A white man comes into a little town and acts like that, my friends would cut open his stomach, chop up his limbs, and then dropped the pieces into rivers. No one would ever know! We would just follow him outside and that would be it. When the police comes, we just shake our heads, and there are no witnesses.

"In Indonesia, we have these knives - not like the big Japanese swords - small knives, because you cannot use swords in the jungle. It is small and fits in your fist and all you have to do is cut open someone's stomach and they are dead. We don't go for the throat, we just cut their stomachs.

"We do not raise our voices, because if you lose your temper it does not take long for someone to kill you. In my village, my parents were tailors and had to pay the underworld. They don't yell for the money, they just ask for it and you pay. If you argue, they will come for you at night. And he's lucky he was here in this place. Here it is nice and there is no underworld at this building. If he was outside in another bar in Melaka acting like that...that man, would be dead!

"Someone could just put something in his drink. Poison. You know, its so sweet and smooth. Its the oldest thing, next to prostitution!"

The conversation sort of died after that. Lim's husband just sat at the couch with a bit of a bemused expression on his face, like most white husbands with asian wives, a bit unsure as to the level of crazy manifesting itself in his bride at this particular moment and for that reason, always just a little scared. Its a cliche, but still one confirmed for me tonight, that you don't want to piss of an Asian woman. Especially Lim, from Indonesia, a chain of islands just off of the shore of Crazyland.

The night's conversation turned progressively worse - or rather, better - with Lim confessing a love of knives and weapons in general, especially Native American tomahawks, Japanese katanas, and those Indonesian knives. The ironic thing is all this from a woman who stands just above 5 feet tall and has the sweetest smile of anyone I've seen here so far.

And what little crazy, murderous city does she call home now? Stuttgart, naturlich.

I ran into Lim this morning as she was brushing her teeth. Embarrassed at having me seen her, she started laughing and I couldn't picture a more appropriate moment then that - little Lim, laughing, and foaming at the mouth.

The Asian Civilizations Museum, Singapore

The rains here come almost as if on schedule every day around 6pm. Sporadic sprinkles dot the city throughout the day, but at around 6 the deluge arrives. Heavy and nearly monsoon-like in strength, the rain's torrent goes on for 15 minutes before finally spending itself out. In those situations, there's nothing you can do but wait it out. I haven't seen anyone attempt to go out when the weather drops like that.

Its rainy season in Singapore, something that I'm actually very thankfull for, as the constant sprinkling throughout the day actually keeps it cool and the big deluges serve to clean up the streets and air of the city. Its a welcome necessity, evidenced by the fact that in the time I've been here, I haven't heard a single soul complain about it. In Seattle, it rains all the time and we always complain about it.

You find ways to cope with the heat and quickly. Shorts are an option, of course, as are daily and nightly showers to keep one cool. And plenty of liquids. I usually avoid drinking juice to cut on my sugar consumption, but the heat saps away your strength and so the juice actually helps quite a bit.

The number #1 treatment I've found for the heat however, has been talcum powder. You learn to adapt to "powdering your nose" pretty quickly after the first heat rash develops down there. As I wrote to a friend earlier, I have so much powder on my ass right now that it looks like a winking mime.

I simply can't imagine what this city would have been like in the days before A/C. Its like being in Vegas in June. You time your forays outside to just a few minutes before getting back into a building. I spent my day in doors around Singapore's colonial district, dropping by the Long Bar at Raffles, one of Singapore's oldest and home to the Singapore Sling. Like Harry's Bar in Venice, namesake bars tend to be hugely expensive and not worth it, but still I wanted to mark the occasion. Drinking a Singapore Sling would have been too touristy, of course. No, on a day like today a gimlet was called for. And thankfully, for the price it was probably the best gimlet I've ever had.

Afterwards, I headed over to the Asian Civilizations Museum, a four story building dedicated to the religions and cultures of China and SE Asia. But what blew me away - what absolutely, hands down was one of the most surprising moments of my entire life, was that they had on display relics from the original grandaddy of all Buddhas. #1, the first, numero uno - THE BUDDHA - you get my drift. As part of a collection on the Buddhists founding of Nalanda University (in India), they had three relics on display. These relics - preserved pieces of the deceased Buddha - were only about the size of a thumbnail, but nonetheless were on display on a golden throne behind a quarter inch thick plexiglass, armed guard, and metal detector. It wasn't that I had a religious experience - its just that I was stunned to see this here. It'd be like going to your local museum's exhibit on Christianity and finding the Holy Grail on display. Just hugely surprising. I didn't even know Buddhists collected those kinds of things.

Other things I didn't know about Buddhism in general, include how particularly Christ-like he actually was, with a similar accounting of miracles performed and prophets sent out to preach his word. Everyone knows that Hindus have a ton of Gods to worship, but Buddhism also is a polytheistic religion. And its not just reincarnation and karma with these guys - they too have a purgatory and notion of hell. All great things to bring up the next time you get into a religious debate.

Another thing I liked about the museum is that they have these interactive guides, kiosks that stand about 4 feet in height and feature the different faces (depending on which exhibit you are in) of Singaporeans who live here. They are really well done - what must have been hundreds of hours of video of people speaking directly the the camera. In presentation, its just their head over a black background and when left alone, they even look off into space, humming a wordless tune or texting on their mobile. You can ask them about the exhibit or even just questions about them as a local. This was getting fun. One option let me ask a female face "what she did for fun?". Others included "do you consider yourself a feminist?", "where is your family from?", and "what are your views on polygamy?". This was my first date in 7 months! Sadly, "your place or mine?" wasn't a question I could ask and instead ended as most of my interactions with the fairer sex do, with a request for my email address and a promise to get in touch with me later.

The rest of the day was spent reading and doing research on Malaysia, where I head tomorrow morning via bus line. I'll be venturing into Melaka, a city I had not heard of before but once was the center of the world's spice trade. No word on the size of their spice worms.

McIvor Photography, Routeburn Track

Jayson has posted his pictures of the Routeburn-Caples-Greenstone hike from New Zealand, with plenty of breathtaking shots. Some of your best stuff yet, Jayson!

Pay his site a visit, the man has talent!!

Zotsandboo.com NZ photos