Kids and Cameras

After a terrific five days in Sri Lanka, I headed to India with a bit of nervous excitement. The whole of my trip I had heard about the overwhelming, but incredible experiences that awaited me in India, and I was eager to dive in.

An uneventful flight landed me in Delhi on a Friday afternoon. And, to my surprise, the airport was very subdued. I made my way to the hostel I had already booked, where I dined with some fellow travelers and stayed in for an early night. The next morning, I woke up and headed into the heart of the city via the clean and efficient--something I would find to be rare in India--metro to procure an evening bus ticket to my first destination, Palampur, and then relaxed in my hostel until departure.

The overnight bus journey was pleasant and uneventful, except for the nice chat with my seat mate, a kind Japanese fellow headed to visit family in the north of India. After arriving, I was picked up by one of the volunteer coordinators Sahil at the Palampur bus station and taken to the volunteer house a few miles from the town. For the next two weeks, I would be based here and teaching English and Mathematics to some young kids at a local school. At the house I met Joginder, a quite amiable gentleman, who cooks meals for the volunteers, which I found unfortunately to be only myself for the whole of my stay. After a delicious cup of chai and a quick tour of the surrounding area of Thakadwara--including a trip to find some much-needed laundry services--Joginder made a fine meal of chapati, rice, dal and a curry and I was ready to start teaching the next day.

To my disappointment, the program was rather disorganized. I woke up the next morning to find out it was the very first day of the school year, and so the kids were getting acquainted with their teachers, and my services were not needed. So, my volunteer coordinator Amit and I stopped by the school to introduce me to the principal and my main volunteer coordinator at Gayan Deep School, Monish, and discuss my schedule. It also turned out my schedule consisted of only three, thirty minute classes in the morning, and I was finished by noon. Finally, I was told I could teach whatever I wanted. I didn't know what to say about that one. I was hoping to meet the fellow teachers and discuss how I would fit with their schedules, but that was not to be. Instead, I studied the math curriculum, and was dismissed for the day. After a fine afternoon chatting with Joginder, I met with Bobby, the other volunteer coordinator, and discussed the limited schedule, to which he suggested I could teach some local kids who can't afford school, and I eagerly agreed. He would set that up and get back to me. Then, in the evening, a young lady barged into the place rather hurriedly and introduced herself as Monica, my housemate, then vanished to the upstairs quarters. It turned out she was a dentist along with my volunteer coordinator, Bobby--dentistry being his primary occupation and volunteer coordinating a secondary commitment--and over the next two weeks, she would turn out to be a very friendly, if reserved, housemate whom I wish I could have got to know better with more time.

My first day teaching was both awesome and frustrating. I went to my first class, grade 6, who were really amazing. The class clown, Adutya, was the first to talk, and he never seemed to stop. Since teachers were not provided with a copy of the material, Nandini, a sweetheart, lent me her math book so we could get started. For thirty minutes, we went over their latest math section ordering numbers smallest to largest, and had a fantastic time. The kids, though a bit unruly at times, were good sports and very sharp. My next class, seventh grade, was a bit smaller, but also a bit less cooperative. Also nice kids, but not looking to do math. So, we did English instead. Since I had no idea what I was supposed to teach, I supposed practice reading English could only help. So we read a story and I was relieved of class at the bell--which was a hand-held bell rung inconsistently by one of the teaching assistants. Finally, my eighth grade class was stellar. I got in there and they were eager to do math. I must admit I was skeptical at first--what 8th graders ever want to actually learn math--but they were genuinely interested in going over math problems. So, we solved single variable equations for the period. They were a really superb group of kids, and I was looking forward to that class again. That was all for the day and I was dismissed.

I was getting into a bit of a rhythm by the second day of teaching. On my way to class I stopped by the stationary shop and picked up a notebook, which I immediately put to good use. I cut out small sections and had each kid write their name and place the name-tag on their desk to help me get to know them better. It was a good first day exercise, but I had totally forgot about it on Day 1. Rookie mistake. At the end of class, I picked up the name-tags so I could do a little homework of my own memorizing all the kids names. I found that, for the most part, the three classes represented different grades of unruliness: 7th was the most, 6th in the middle, and 8th was a breeze. The classes were all full of good kids, but some were harder to manage than others. In the afternoon, after classes, I headed with Bobby to a tea plantation to meet some kids I was supposed to teach English to for the rest of my stay, and found them quite nice. There were no books and the kids were ace at the alphabet and counting, so we mostly drew pictures and played games, learning a few words along the way. Some teacher I was!

The third day of teaching brought a bit of a realization: the other teachers were still teaching math and english regardless of what I taught. Initially I was hugely disappointed by this development, but realized that there was no malice intended and, as I would become more intimately familiar during my tenure, that's just how this school works: totally disorganized. So, I set about using my time with the kids to help them further understand the math and English assignments given to them and working with them on their homework. I also introduced the game Hangman, which was to be a favorite of all the kids, and we would play a little bit pretty much everyday. I figured it was good for helping their spelling and I would introduce harder words each time, before letting some of the kids choose words to use. At the tea plantation, I brought some markers and paper from my notebook to do some drawing. When the kids were done drawing, we learned some of the English words for the pictures they drew, like "river," "mountain" and "flag." That was satisfying to help them pick up some vocabulary, even though I didn't have any idea how to properly teach them English.

Friday was filled with more math exercises and games in the morning. The most eventful part of class was finding out, from my students, that Monday was a holiday and not to show up. When I went to confirm with the staff, they replied, "Oh yeah, no class." That was all. Oh, India. This was followed by hanging with the kids at the tea plantation in the afternoon. There, I pulled out my iPhone and the kids and I had some fun snapping pictures. They were pretty enthralled, and though they do not know much English, they know "camera." Thoroughly enjoyable time with the kids that day.

On Saturday, I headed off on  my first excursion. Destination: Dharamshala, the home to His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Also home to many western backpackers preparing for treks into the Indian Himalaya I would find. After a dizzying hour-long bus ride through the foothills of the Himalaya, I arrived at Dharamshala, and immediately headed to the hilltop town of McLeod Ganj, just outside of Dharamshala, where the heart of Tibetan culture--including the Dalai Lama--resides. There are two methods to getting to McLeod Ganj from Dharamshala: walking and taxi. I was going to take a taxi, but upon leaving the bus station, I asked a few young folks if I could join them on the walk. It turned out these kind folk were Tibetan refugees and moved to McLeod Ganj in 2008. Now they were on holiday from studies in other parts of India and visiting family. On the 9km walk up a beastly hill, we discussed the status of Tibet and their hopes for freedom in their lifetime. They were not overly optimistic, but the prevailing opinion was that as more refugees come to India, the collective Tibetan voice will become louder and the issue will gain more exposure. After parting company with the kind Tibetans and wishing them luck in their studies, and their fight for freedom, I spent the rest of the day checking emails in the internet cafe, purchasing a few new reads, including Jon Krakauer's intense account of his summit of Everest called "Into Thin Air." Also, I tried a little traditional Tibetan fare called Momos, which are small vegetable-filled steamed dumplings with a spicy sauce accompaniment. Quite tasty indeed. On the way out of town, I visited the temple housing the Dalai Lama's residence and found the monks in the courtyard paired off arguing, which I found out later was a mental exercise challenging fellow monks to contemplate a philosophical question. Unfortunately, the Lama was out on the road, so I could not stop in for a chat. Maybe next time.

Sunday was a lazy day, with the only notable activity being an exploration of the city of Palampur where I purchased a soccer ball to give to the kids at the tea plantation. They were without much in the way of games, and I thought this would give us another activity for Tuesday. The rest of the day I spent reading and eating Joginder's fabulous feasts.

Monday, without class, I decided to go hiking a little ways outside Palampur to see if I could get an even better view of the Himalaya than I had from my front deck, so I headed to Neugal Cafe. As I started walking, I started to feel a bit queasy and ended up cutting my hike short and finding a nice rock overlooking the town of Palampur and the rolling hills in the valley preceding the Himalaya. I enjoyed the hot sun and cool breeze as I sat reading my book and enjoying the views, before heading back towards Palampur in the early afternoon. On the way down, a kind fellow offered me a lift back to town. He was a retired contractor working on consulting projects for the local planning commission and was just back from a site outside of town. We chatted briefly before he dropped me a short distance from the Bus Stand and I made my way back to the house. From there, things took a turn for the worse. I still felt a little nauseous and my lunch of chapati and jam was not well received by my tummy. The rest of the day and all of the night were spent commuting to and from the bathroom as Pepto Bismal struggled to combat the bug. I spent Tuesday curled up in the fetal position recovering, and was ready for a strong Wednesday at school.

The Wednesday I received was solid too. I started out by finding out that Friday was another holiday, and so no class. Again, this came from my students and had to be confirmed with the staff. This meant that in two weeks, I would teach a grand total of 6 days. High impact right there, folks. But, the kids were great and were already sad to see me leave. We played some games and worked on Math in 6th and 8th grade and read a story in the 7th grade class, to which their comprehension was up dramatically from the previous days. Where before they would just read and move on, this day they actually could answer the comprehension questions at the end of the story. So, I decided the next day, my last, would be candy and games for the kids. This was probably not well-received by the lady-teachers who would have a fun afternoon of hopped-up pre-teens, but then again they were not so keen on my presence, so oh well. In the afternoon, I finally got the chance to give the kids the soccer ball I purchased on the weekend, which went over well. We spent the afternoon playing a little 4v4 in the rows between tea plants.

My last teaching day at Gayan Deep was by far the most interesting. First, the already disorganized schedule was further muddled as while I was waiting to start teaching the 6th graders, another teacher walked in and started teaching. When I inquired as to when I was supposed to teach, she made a comment about this being her period. Oh well, it was my last day, and I was armed with candy! So, I bounced between classes in a completely random schedule, including being literally dragged by some third graders into their teacher-less class to practice english and shake hands (a favorite of the little ones). After saying good-bye to the kids at lunch time, I headed home with a heavy heart but loads of good memories after just two weeks. In the afternoon, we played with my camera and engaged in some general rough-housing, made educational with some practice of the English words we had previously learned.

Friday morning I headed to Palampur to snap some pictures of the town before heading to the meet the kids at the tea plantation for some cricket--a game I still am not quite sure how to play. We played for a few hours amongst the tea plants, and my crowning achievement was hitting one headed for a 6, only to hit a tree and drop into the awaiting arms of the opposition. Wicket. Those last two sentences encapsulate 90% of my understanding of cricket and the terminology. After saying good-bye to the kids, I headed back with a heavy heart yet again, but definitely loads of memories from my time with those great little kids. In the evening, I explained to Joginder that the kids and I played cricket and how fun it was, so he suggested we go to watch the local team, Kings XI Punjab, play on television. So, after dinner, we headed to Monal Restaurant, an establishment close to the house and run by one of the teachers at Gayan Deep, and watched an inning over some banana lassis as Joginder tried to explain a little more about the rules. I picked some more up, but was still light years away from properly understanding the game.

That night marked the end of my Palampur adventure, as the next morning I would head to Amritsar, Punjab, to see one of the most important Sikh temples, made entirely of gold and aptly named the Golden Temple.

Sri Lank You Very Much

I had little plan for what to do and see when I embarked on my journey, but as I found with most of my trip thus far, the best ideas and recommendations come from fellow travelers on the road, not from guidebooks or internet forums. And because of this, I met some really great people and shared some wonderful experiences exploring this most underrated of countries!

The journey started with a common occurrence on my trip thus far: flight delay. By five hours. So, after commiserating with a British photographer named John who was living on the beaches of Sri Lanka, we took our free dinner vouchers and headed through security. And after the unwelcome, but ultimately unavoidable wait, we boarded our flight just after midnight. An uneventful flight preceded a three A.M. touchdown, where we boarded a Colombo-bound bus in hopes of catching very early morning buses to our respective destinations; John to the beaches in the south, and me to the city of Kandy in the central jungles. On board the bus, we met the only other non-Sri Lankan, a German fellow named Lucas who had also just arrived. At Colombo, John headed south and Lucas joined me on a bus to Kandy.

We arrived in Kandy at around seven thirty in the morning and made for the hostel I had pre-booked. With only five days in the country, I figured I might as well pre-arrange accommodation. Lucas joined in hopes of finding some internet and meeting with a friend, which he accomplished at the hostel and we, too, parted ways. After a long nap, and a stroll around the outskirts of Kandy, I called it a day and vowed to start afresh the next. While puttering around the hostel, I overheard some fellow travelers discussing the one attraction I was hoping to see in Sri Lanka: Sigiriya. I introduced myself and inquired as to their plans, and they informed me they were going the next day via bus and would I care to join? Yes, I most certainly would!

So, Bryan, an Aussie, and Tiina, a Finnish nurse, and I set off the next morning to the bus station to catch the seven thirty bus to Sigiriya. On the three hour ride, we passed some beautiful lush jungle scenery, while being at the mercy of a rather daring bus driver. At mid-morning we arrived at our destination, a centuries old city and former capital of the Sri Lankan empire. Sigiriya was the capital during the short lived coup by the king's half-brother in the early part of the last millennium and is marked by a large rock outcropping about a hundred meters high, from which it derives its name: Sigiriya, or Lion's Rock. We strolled around the grounds and started up the rock, which, despite the heat was a pleasantly brief trip. At the summit, we were greeted with an amazing 360-degree view of the heart of Sri Lanka. In the distance, to the north and west were rolling hills and to the north-east was a large lake, all intertwined with bright green jungle as far as the eye could see. What a stunning sight. While there, we were swarmed by a class of English students looking to practice their skills. One by one, all fifteen or so of them shook our hands and asked us questions, until they had exhausted their repertoire and, admittedly, our patience. It was great to chat with them, but we could only answer, "Where is your country?" so many times. They were some great lads though. The walk down was serene, but as the sun bore down at midday, we decided to make our way back to Kandy. Once back, courtesy of a much-welcomed and luckily timed $2 air-conditioned bus, we grabbed some grub at a local "Eating House" that was just off the main road in Kandy. And it was fantastic! Chicken Biriyani with some side dishes of potatoes and eggplant, and the perfect amount of spice. And, all for a little over $2. The rest of the evening we spent playing a new card game Bryan taught us called Yamish, learning Aussie words like sunnies, mozzies, and Macca's, and chatting with a pleasant young Kiwi couple en route to Vancouver B.C.

The next day Bryan headed off and Tiina and I decided to check out Adam's Peak, a landmark much recommended by fellow travelers. Since we didn't need to catch the bus until evening, and I hadn't seen much of Kandy, we spent the morning and early afternoon walking the streets and circling the lake in town before heading to the bus station. On the three hour ride to Hatton, the largest town before the hike, we saw the Sri Lankan countryside transform from lush green jungles, to pine trees and tea plantations. Another bus to Delhousie, the jumping off point for the hike, and we were at the base of a mountain. It was well after sundown and the only indication of the looming peak was a string of lights twisting into the night's sky. Now, the common itinerary for the hike is to grab a room, and start the hike at two in the morning, just in time to catch sunrise. But, Tiina and I fancied ourselves rather intrepid, and decided we could hike early and get a good spot for sunrise. We left at eleven thirty and were up by one thirty in the morning. We checked out the footprint along with two monks studying in Colombo, one from Burma and one from Thailand, who were on the same bus as us into town. Then we wandered about the summit's small temple amidst the locals catching some shut-eye in their rather cozy looking sleeping bags before heading for the sunrise spot: a row of benches facing the eastern sky. Others, including the lovely ladies at our hostel in Kandy, told us it would be cold, but, we thought, come on, this is Sri Lanka! So, we packed only a light sweater, and what a life saver it turned out to be at the summit. It was cold, and the steady breeze whipping about the summit made the cold night drag on. But, night eventually passed as we watched lightning dance across the southeastern horizon and awaited the eagerly anticipated sunrise.

As sunrise approached, it quickly became evident that clouds would obstruct the direct sun. But, even still, the horizon was illuminated a deep red and the as the sun rose, the light revealed cascading waterfalls of low-lying clouds sweeping through the valleys below. It was a truly powerful sight to see all of nature's glory from atop a tiny peak. Which is another revelation that morning brought: we were on a pretty steep peak. The night before, as we were hiking, we had no idea what the peak looked like during the day. I assumed it was a large hill that was just a bit steep. Not so. In fact, it was more like a tower, and in the daylight I was able to properly appreciate the hike we had made the night before straight up into the sky. As we headed back, I happened to run into Lucas, the German gentleman from the Colombo-Kandy bus ride and we chatted on the long, sunny walk back down to Delhousie. It was great to see him again, and eventually we parted, for the last time, in Delhousie. Tiina and I caught the bus back to Hatton and then had the fortune of catching the train to Kandy, which provided some better views of the Sri Lankan countryside, though I can't say I saw many of them. After the nighttime hike I was properly exhausted, and the bumpy train ride put me right to sleep. We returned to the hostel in Kandy, and I crashed for the rest of the day, save dinner and packing for the next day's journey back to Colombo and onward to India.

The next morning, I grabbed a tuk-tuk down to the bus station and hopped on the bus to Negombo, a city near the Colombo airport. After yet another bumpy bus ride, in which my seat mate was a little too close for comfort, I hopped off the bus and into the airport not quite ready to leave this wonderful country. But, India and its promised adventures beckoned, and I willfully obliged!

Eye of the Thaiger

After the overnight bus from Ranong, I landed in South Bangkok at five in the morning the following day with a decision to make. Either, spend a day traveling and head straight to the Mo Chit bus station and directly to Chiang Mai, or kill a day in Bangkok and take another night bus. I chose the former, as I was eager to settle down somewhere. With my shoulder still easily aggravated, I am not so sure it was the right decision.

The taxi ride across town was easy enough and I even landed in time to catch a bus five minutes later directly to Chiang Mai. However, as is the case with many of the buses in Southeast Asia, the seats on this bus were not meant for someone over six feet tall, and especially not one with a broken collarbone. So, after another nine hour bus ride, I was quite relieved when the bus finally pulled into the Arcade Bus Station outside Chiang Mai. After telling the songthaew driver, a convenient red pickup with bench seats in the back used as taxis in Chiang Mai, that I needed to head to the center of the city, he dropped me at the Tha Pae gate in downtown Chiang Mai. I checked into the Central Guesthouse and slept the rest of the afternoon.

The next day, I got in touch with Dasha, a friend I met in Nha Trang, Vietnam who is teaching English and Russian in Chiang Mai and we agreed to meet. She had been living in Chiang Mai for eleven months and had not done "the touristy stuff." So, we agreed to do something touristy, and I had just the thing in mind. I had heard through the grapevine, and various tourist literature, that there was a local attraction called the Tiger Kingdom a short distance from town where you can, you guessed it, fraternize with live tigers. we agreed to meet in the afternoon and head out of town in a songthaew to meet some kitties. The place was amazing, and in addition to the many tigers they had a stately lion and some beautiful parrots. The tigers were available in different sizes: smallest (cubs), small, medium and large. We chose the big cats, though in retrospect, the cubs were incredibly cute and we both would have loved to play with them. The big cats were amazing and regal, nonetheless. Though very tame, which rumor has it is due to a heavy dose of drugs (which the establishment denies), these tigers are still intimidating creatures. We made our way into the cages with the guide, and a nice German fellow we met in the lobby, and proceeded to pet and rub the belly of this most vicious of felines. It was so incredible to b so close and intimate with such a powerful animal. I had not properly appreciated the size of Bengal tigers, of which these "large cats" were under two years old, and I would be lying to say I wasn't a bit nervous. The guides found it amusing, at one point stepping between two "playing" tigers. I was a bit astonished, but they seemed to not think a thing of it. Yeah, a little stick with some distracting leaves on the end is sure going to do you a lot of good when the tiger has had enough, pal, so I thought.

Back in Chiang Mai after the Tiger Kingdom, we grabbed some amazing Indian food, and parted ways to rest up, before meeting with some other travelers I had met in Nha Trang who also happened to be in Chiang Mai. We grabbed some drinks at a bar before moving to the night club scene at the "Square of Despair," a collection of night clubs in Chiang Mai with an obviously notorious reputation. The four of us, Dasha, myself, and our two friends, one American and a Dutch gal enjoyed some beers and were chatting when I heard the familiar, "What-what what what...What-what what what" and I thought, could it be, then I was sure, it was Thrift Shop, blasting over the speakers at the club in Chiang Mai. A surge of PNW pride ran through me, along with a slight tinge of homesickness, as the beat bumped and lyrics flowed. I asked if everyone at the table knew the song and the resounding response was "Yeah, duh." And, as the Dutch girl finished the chorus, "...this is f**kin' awesome," I thought, yes, this IS f**kin' awesome!

Since I had crossed to Thailand via a land border with Cambodia, I was only granted a fifteen day visa in the country. However, I arrived twenty days before my flight out of Bangkok. Uh-oh. This is a common occurrence and has even spawned a market for visa run packages from local tour shops. All a visa run entails is crossing the Thai border, waiting about thirty minutes, and coming right on back. So, Friday I embarked on a northbound bus headed for Mae Sai on the border with Myanmar. As soon as we exited the bus, a songthaew was waiting for visa-runners headed to the border. After the ten minute ride, we walked across the border, checked in with Myanmar authorities and paid our 500 baht visa fee. After strolling the tourist market, and being hassled by some particularly aggressive Burmese vendors, most of us made it back to the catch the 2:30 bus back to Chiang Mai. At the border, I chatted with an American yoga instructor making his last visa run before heading to teach yoga in India, and an Irishman living in Chiang Mai who has made the visa run many-a-time. Indeed, his passport was full of Burmese and Thai immigration stamps. Why he didn't just get a longer term visa, I am not sure.

The next few days were spent recovering from the ear infection I had from the island, along with some more touring of Chiang Mai of both the local and touristy persuasions. On Saturday, Dasha and I walked the night market street and perused the offerings before grabbing some dinner and amazing pastry desserts from the local vendors. After that we absorbed the local music scene at the best jazz club in Chiang Mai. What a treat that was as the house band was playing an hour long set that we caught from outside the open air club as it overflowed with fellow spectators. A great atmosphere, coupled with tremendous music. That was certainly a treat. Sunday was a slow day, capped by a walk along the even larger Sunday Night Market, with a very wide selection of the work of local craftsmen as well as a great selection of food vendors setup in a central Chiang Mai temple's courtyard. The chicken curry was fabulous, by the way. On Monday, I hopped a songthaew to catch the temple at Doi Suthep outside of Chiang Mai. The hour long ride up the windy hillside roads led to a beautiful, golden hilltop temple with a great balcony for looking out over Chiang Mai. The only downside was the view, or lack thereof, blocked by the increasing seasonal smog due to the burning of farmland in preparation for the new planting season.

Tuesday, my second to last in Chiang Mai, was great fun. Dasha and I met up to learn all about the culinary techniques of northern Thailand in our cooking class. From 9-3:30, we perused the local organic market and cooked six different dishes along with our fellow classmates. The only others to do the full day class were an American family living in Singapore and on vacation in Chiang Mai. Great people, with a wonderful little girl who was quite the enthusiastic culinarian. At least while her interest held, which was until about lunchtime. After making an appetizer, fried dish, soup, entree, dessert and curry, and devouring them all, we were stuffed and content. We decided to retire, with plans to meet up the next day for lunch before I headed back to Bangkok.

Having had a generous helping of Thai food the day before, we decided to mix it up and head to the local Mexican spot. It was, well, pretty much what you would expect of a Mexican restaurant in Northern Thailand. Decent, but nothing like home. Afterwards we headed to the refreshing air conditioned comfort of the local shopping center to indulge in a little dessert of chocolate sundaes. Mmm, those were quite tasty indeed. After that, Dasha had a class to teach, and I a bus to cacth, so we parted ways, hoping to meet again sometime soon, probably not in Northern Thailand!

The last few days in Bangkok were leisurely. After a long night bus, a few of my fellow passengers and I headed to a cafe just off the infamous Khaosan Road to grab a bite, as we were all to early to check in to our respective hostels. Sharing a chat and a coffee and watching the monks collect their alms at sunrise with some great, if brief acquaintances, was a wonderful experience. After breakfast, I shared a taxi down to central Bangkok's Silom district where my hostel was located and crashed for the better part of the day. Having little planned for the afternoon, and it being dreadfully hot and muggy in the Bangkok sun, I decided to turn to the trusty Trip Advisor app for suggestions. And, lo and behold, the number three attaction in all of Bangkok was the cineplex not too far from my hostel. Sold. I headed down to the theater, and though I was not too interested in any of the movies, Olympus Has Fallen caught my eye and I decided to give it a go. The most bizarre part of the experience was standing while a song and montage played celebrating the King of Thailand before the movie started, which I was informed is not in lieu of a national anthem. I tried to picture that happening in America... and couldn't. Speaking of America, after the film where a Secret Service agent (albeit played by an Irishman) saves the President and probably the whole world by thwarting the ruthless terrorist attack being perpetrated on Washington, D.C., I was in a distinctly patriotic mood. What did I do to celebrate? Those most American of activities: overeating at McDonald's. I say overeating not because I ordered an unusually large amount of food, but because all of their food is unusually large and gives you the feeling of overating, even if you don't finish. Needless to say, I checked out for the night.

Friday was spent roaming the streets of Bangkok, including the claustrophobic and disorienting markets of Chinatown and grabbing a few coffees along the way. In the evening I grabbed some food with a Canadian fellow from the hostel and ended with some rooftop beers and chatting with our hostel companions for a few hours in the evening. Great fun, and great conversation.

My second to last day in Southeast Asia, Saturday, was marked by the most backpackery of experiences: a trip to Khaosan Road to enjoy the lively festivities. A few of my fellow hostelmates shared a cab uptown to the notorious road and spent the night with a few beers and good conversation. But, best of all was the people watching. Grabbing a seat and a beer at one of the sidewalk bars provided front row access to the circus. Another night of good company and conversation, as well as an incriminating photo snapped of me munching on a scorpion. Alas, 'twas not meant to be, as I had no interest in digesting a fried bug. Not on that night, and probably not any other.

Finally, after a lazy afternoon in Bangkok, I am headed to Sri Lanka, and then to the sub-continent, for what is surely going to be an adventurous ride.

Passage to Bangkok

After a brief, exciting trip through Cambodia, I was determined to take it slow in Thailand and finally allow my shoulder to properly recover. I was semi-successful. After two bus transfers and a long wait at the border, I crossed into Thailand and made my way to Bangkok. The bus stopped at the famed Khao San Road, where all the foreigners go, and I grabbed a hostel before setting out for my first foray into the famed world of cheap streetfood. A one-dollar plate of Phad Thai later, and I took a quick tour of the city before calling it a night.

I only planned to be in Bangkok as a stopover, before heading south to the islands, and beaches, near Ranong. So, in the morning, I headed to the southern bus station and bought a night bus ticket south. With most of the day to kill, I wandered through the streets and grubbed on an amazing curry dish with an iced coffee and toured the city by foot. I eventually wandered into the area of Bangkok with many gun shops. Although in a rather reputable area, shops windows were lined with handguns, assault rifles, shotguns. I was a little stunned, at first, but then I remembered: This is Bangkok...

I hopped on the night bus, where I met a friendly German gal from Hamburg also headed to Ranong, though to a different island. After an aggravatingly bumpy ride, we reached Ranong in the early morning and headed to the pier to catch our respective ferries. A few hours of waiting around and I was headed to Ko Chang, or Elephant Island, where there was only four hours of electricity per day, $10 bungalows, no cars and good beaches. That was about all I knew of the island before reaching it.

It turned out to be a beautiful place. I befriended a German woman on the ferry, after another round of interrogations regarding my sling, and she recommended the resort, which was really a collection of rustic bungalows and a restaurant, where she was staying. I followed her, and luckily they had a bungalow with a view of the beach available. I checked in, and for the next six days, five nights, proceeded to hike, read, swim (float, really) and eat. The island had few roads, and I quickly hiked them all to see the different parts of the beautiful island. While the west side of the island had a long beach, along which my bungalow was situated, the east coast was all mangroves and swamp, and good views of the Thai mainland.

No only did I meet the German woman, but also some of the fellow guests at the resort. I never discovered why, but they were mostly germans. I am not sure why this particular island chain so attracted German tourists, but they were all nice enough, so I didn't give it too much thought. The only other fellow was a Canadian named Dennis, staying on Ko Chang for the umpteenth time, and he was a pro. We had some good conversations, but mostly I was at the island to rest and read. After crushing three books and enjoying the beach, it was time to press on to other parts of Thailand.

So, after nearly a week, and bidding my new friends goodbye, I headed back on the ferry to the mainland city of Ranong. Before getting on the ferry, however, I realized I couldn't hear hardly at all. For the past day or two, I had water in my ears and couldn't shake it. One of the fellow guests, a German named Wolfgang, was a avid diver and had some hydrogen peroxide that I tried to use, but it didn't help. So, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to spend yet another day in a Southeast Asian hospital.

Upon reaching Ranong, I set out for a bus ticket en route to the hospital. With my ticket to Bangkok acquired, I headed to the Ranong Hospital for a quick visit. Although not to dissimilar to the Lao hospital, it was slightly more advanced and definitely more organized. After about an hour wait moving between two waiting rooms, I was treated by a lovely young female doctor who explained to me that I had Swimmer's Ear, as I had suspected, and prescribed some antibiotics and pain killers. Five dollars later, I was equipped with my drugs and ready to go. Smooth and efficient, well played Thai healthcare, well played.

After another few hours roaming the back streets of Ranong and getting some pre-departure grub, I was off to Chiang Mai, Thailand, via a layover in Bangkok.

Angkor What?

My trip through Cambodia started off on precarious footing. I had been in contact with some family of my mother's colleague who were in Phnom Penh to show me around. However, in communicating, I had gotten the name of the bus company I was taking from Vietnam wrong and the bus had been late. Luckily, I had the phone number of my host, Kheng, handy and gave him a buzz. We eventually connected, and spent the next few days touring Phnom Penh with two of his cousins.

After arrival, we found a hotel for me and then were off to Wat Phnom, a famous hilltop temple in the center of the city. We followed this with my first western food in ages--pizza--in the heart of Phnom Penh. After what amounted to a long day, we called it quits early.

The next day we started early to the Tuol Sleng Museum, home of the infamous S-21 detention and torture site of the Khmer Rouge. If not chilling enough, we followed this with a trip to the Killing Fields outside of Phnom Penh. Here the Khmer Rouge would send the prisoners of centers like S-21 to be killed in their brutal attempt at social reengineering that cost the lives of 2 million Cambodians between 1975-1979. The devastation of this time in Cambodian history, I would come to find out, is still vivid in the minds of the eelder generation and a very important part of Cambodian culture. Children separated from parents, husbands separated from wives, millions moved out of cities and into the country to be worked morning to night in an effort to revamp Camobian rice production to create a fully self sufficient Cambodia. The massive devastation from the four short years of Khmer Rouge rule so severely stunted Cambodia's growth that it is only beginning to recover.

We lunched at a fabulous Khmer restaurant and had some great local cuisine before touring the large market in the center of the city. After a break to wait for Kheng's cousin Malin to join us, we took a river cruise and finished with more Khmer food, including what became my favorite dish in Camobida, ground pork sauteed with eggplant. Yum!

Our final day in Phnom Penh, we toured the colorful and ornate Royal Palace, checked out the largest pagoda in Phnom Penh, then lunched outside of Phnom Penh on some more fabulous Khmer food, including my first time eating frog, which was quite tasty! Finally, Kheng and I caught a bus out to Siem Reap, and I was ready to see some temples!

We arrived in the evening, grabbed some grub and crashed early, ready to get up at 4:30 to view the sunrise over Angkor Wat. And it was majestic! The view was magificent from the western courtyard as the brilliant red/orange sun slowly rose over the largest religious building in the world. We spent the next few hours touring this largest of temples before heading to the Angkor Thom complex a few kilometers away. This complex was the seat of the Khmer empire for a time after Angkor Wat, and it is home to the magnificent Bayon temple, built with many four-sided towers, each side depicting a different face of Buddha. After lunch we saw the Ta Pramh temple, known for being the location of the Anjelina Jolie film, Tomb Raider, but also notable for the massive trees reclaiming the temple walls. Kheng and I spent the afternoon at the Cambodian Culture Town in Siem Reap learning about Camobidan culture through a series of skits detailing Cambodian customs, including a wedding ritual. It was a great experience getting a brief, but informative glimpse into traditional Cambodian culture.

The second day: more temples. There are a vast number throughout the area, and I no doubt only saw a few. However, the second day was particularly enjoyalbe because the crowds were smaller in the morning as most visitors headed to Angkor Wat for the sunrise. Between temples, we stopped at the Land Mine Museum and learned that there are still many areas in Cambodia where the Khmer Rouge planted land mines that have still not been recovered. To this day, people are still being injured by newly discovered mines, as Cambodia races to rid the country of these hidden and long-forgotten instruments of death. Half a day of temples, followed by the Angkor National Museum to learn about the history of the Khmer empire in Southeast Asia, and we were off to Battambang, Kheng's hometown, for a quick visit.

We arrived in the evening, and after a much-needed shower, I met Kheng and his parents at my hotel and we headed for dinner. His father and mother, who own a rice processing factory, were very kind and accommodating hosts. We had Cambodian BBQ, beef fried rice and an excellent sweet fried corn dish that was another favorite of mine in Cambodia.

My only day in Battambang started with breakfast with Kheng and his parents, before Kheng and I headed off to a mountain outside the city to see the temple located on top. It was beautiful to look out from the temple to the Cambodian countryside, and we even had a chat with the monk in the temple. Of course, by "we" I mean Kheng, since it was a fully-Khmer conversation. I mostly smiled and nodded whenever the conversation seemed to include me. Outside the temple we checked out some cool caves, then made our way to a temple another hilltop temple with splended views. At the base of the temple, we lunched on fried eel and frog stew with rice, while laying in hammocks resting from the hot afternoon sun. We headed back toward Battambang stopping at the first Cambodian winery for a tasting of their fine red wine, brandy, grape juice and ginger juice, where we chatted with a vacationing German couple. After that, we checked out Kheng's future place of employment, his family's under-construction new rice factory where his father explained that the fields it is built on were in the middle of the fighting during the civil war that led to Khmer Rouge rule in 1975. Another reminder of the haunting past of this beautiful country. For our last dinner together, Kheng and I went to a restaurant locally known for its fried pig intestine, as well as a traditional Khmer fried fish delicacy. Both were delicious, and a fine meal to be my last in Cambodia. Good company and good food, I can't complain.

The final morning, I had breakfast with Kheng and his parents before they gave me a quick tour of downtown Battambang and then whisked me to the bus station to catch my passage to Bangkok. Five days was nowhere near enough, but with my still-recovering shoulder, I was eager to get on to Thailand and continue recovery.

Gooood Morning Vietnam!

Before I could get to Vietnam, I had to make the 26-hour bus ride from Luang Prabang to Hanoi. 26 hours in a reclining seat? No worries, thought I. Little did I know that this particular bus I would be taking only had reclining seats for about half the customers. The remaining passengers, of which I was one, slept underneath their seats, laying on the ground with about 6 inches of space separating our nose from the floor beneath their seats. At least we got pads to lay on. It was like riding in a coffin, with a neighbor.

After the arduous journey, I ended up in Hanoi late at night, with an aching arm and no idea how to get to my hostel. Finally wrangling a taxi, I arrived at my hostel exhausted and ready to sleep. More immediate than my urge to sleep, however, was one to eat. I hadn't had food since the morning bus stop some hours prior. With a recommendation from the hostel, I wandered over a few blocks to the street with the late night eats and grabbed a bowl of pho bo, or beef noodle soup. This was to be my first of many and it was fantastic! The rich broth and hearty pieces of beef with perfectly cooked noodles; I was in heaven, if only for a moment. I headed back to my hostel and crashed. Hard.

The next morning, greeted with cool, overcast weather, I set out to find the post office and mail some items home, as my heavy pack was a bit of a burden with my injury. After getting my heavy clothes and first round of souvenirs in a box ready to be shipped stateside, I took a tour of old Hanoi, wandering the alleys, seeing the large cathedral and admiring the lake in the center of the city.

More touring of Hanoi followed, including a visit to the closed Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, and some of the other famous sites in Hanoi, like the Temple of Literature and the Opera House, led into an evening of wandering the streets looking for dinner. I happened upon a corner cafe and ordered some beef fried rice and a Bia Hanoi, the local brew. Just my luck, an English DJ named Luke, a spanish fellow named Javi and a Belgian gal named Sophie sat next to me and we ended up checking out Hanoi for the night.

My last day in Hanoi I went to the train station to procure a ticket to the beach town of Nha Trang, some 24 hours by train south. I figured the fewer the stops, the better. And I think it was the right call. After getting my ticket, I wandered more of Hanoi, down to Lenin Park, named, of course, after the father of modern communism, Vladimir Lenin. Here I enjoyed a Bia Hanoi and rested as the afternoon sun faded and I awaited my train. On my way back to the hostel, I stopped by the large night market in the center of the Old Quarter, grabbed my last Hanoi pho bo and headed to catch the train.

The train journey was uneventful, until the last few hours when I was lucky enough to get some new companions in my compartment. Lisa, a native of central Vietnam, was headed back to Ho Chi Minh City with her father and niece. We struck up a conversation, started by a concerned query into the happenings that led to mangled limb, and talked until I had to depart at Nha Trang. We exchanged email addresses and kept in touch for when I made it to Ho Chi Minh City.

I spent the next five days bouncing between my air conditioned dorm room, the street vendors selling food and the wonderful beach. The views were magnificent of the green-blue water and the rich, white sand. The nightlife is the primary attraction to the city, but in my condition, I decided to forgo the festivities and rest. Even still, I had the luck of meeting a few good people in my hostel, including a Russian gal, Kiwi cousins, a Dutchman, a feisty American from Utah and her Dutch traveling partner and a Canadian. Good people, and we spent a few good dinners together exploring Nha Trang. After five days though, it was time I was on the move.

Headed to Ho Chi Minh City, my arm was still a nuisance, so I decided to continue to take it easy a few days before heading to Cambodia. The first night I checked out the night market and ended up meeting a few people from my hostel for dinner at one of the stalls. Amazing streetfood! And on the way back to the hostel, we stopped for a talent show featuring, among other performers, a cute five year old vocalist, pair of jugglers, and a gentleman taming some rather large snakes. The rest of my days in Ho Chi Minh City were spent reading in cafes enjoying the delicious Vietnamese coffee, which hit the spot on those hot Saigon afternoons. I also visisted the Vietnam War museum. A fascinating, and terribly tragic, part of American and Vietnamese history.

Because we exchanged email addresses on the train, I was able to meet up again with Lisa, from the train ride from Hanoi to Nha Trang, her father and her cousin and go to dinner. One night, we went to a fabulous Vietnamese BBQ restaurant and had some amazing venison, octopus, shrimp and goat which we grilled in the middle of our table, and followed with a nighttime tour of Ho Chi Minh City by scooter. Then, Lisa invited me to dinner the next night at her house with her father, who prepared the meal himself. It was incredible! Salad with egg and beef, pig ears with rice paper and a cooked beef dish, of course with rice. My mouth is watering just remembering the flavors!

After that, it was time for Cambodia. Off to Phnom Penh!

DisLaocated

My brief visit to Laos provided some of my best, and worst--or at least most exciting--travel experiences to date. In only 8 days, I met some incredible people and was the beneficiary of some very generous hospitality, while also experiencing, and causing, a good bit of worry.

After catching a last minute bus for Kunming to Jinghong, China, I was lucky to nab a ticket for the next morning's bus to Luang Nam Tha, Laos. Not originally part of my Lao itinerary, I am incredibly fortunate to have had this change of plan. But, as my bus to the border wasn't until the next day, I had a night to spare in Jinghong. Without Internet, I wandered the streets seeking accommodation. Unfortunately, all places were overpriced and the city was terribly cheesy, like a poorly done, Chinese version of Las Vegas. After failing to find reasonable accommodation, I retired to the comforts of the metal benches of the bus station for the evening.

In the morning, I hopped the bus southbound along with another American traveler on holiday from his job in Beijing. And as soon as we crossed the border, I was excited. The landscape changed to lush jungle almost immediately and you could sense the awaiting adventures in the warm tropical air.

I arrived in Luang Nam Tha and had dinner at the quaint night market with the same American fellow I met on the bus, as well as two other fellow arrivals; an Italian and a German. On offer was Papaya salad and sticky rice; Lao staples. And they did not disappoint. The papaya was freshly cut and mixed with a spicy red pepper native to Southeast Asia as well as some tomato and lime. Over dinner we discussed our planned itineraries for Laos and decided motor biking was all on our agendas.

We awoke the next morning and headed out, sans the Italian who had to work, and ventured north into the jungle toward Muang Sing. After climbing into the national park and passing small villages and a cool waterfall, we swooped into the plains surrounding Muang Sing and cruised along enjoying the fresh air and sights of the Lao countryside. Before lunch, we decided to follow the road outside of Muang Sing to see where it would lead. The answer: China. We nearly crossed the border at the small, locals-only checkpoint without realizing, but turned back in the nick of time. I had had enough of china for the moment, and didn't want to get stuck on the wrong side of that border. The rest of the day was spent exploring the villages and admiring nature's beauty as we cruised by at about 50km/hr. Or so I estimate, as my speedometer was broken, a commonality on all the scooters I rode in Laos. By day's end we had all vowed to scooter again the next day, trying a different route.

On the second day of exploring northern Laos we headed west from Luang Nam Tha toward Vieng Phouka. On the way, we stopped and explored a cave with the company of two Catalunyans traveling in Laos. We continued on to Vieng Phouka and lunched riverside on more sticky rice, papaya salad with rice, a grilled beef dish and some stir-fried vegetables. Good eats! Then, while wandering the village we happened upon a Lao wedding, where we were invited in by the bride and groom for some Lao dancing. As the evening approached, we bid farewell--and Congratulations--to our new friends and made our way back to Luang Nam Tha in time to return the scooters. Afterward, my fellow America and I hopped a rather bumpy night bus to Luang Prabang, the largest city in northern Laos.

While Luang Nam Tha had a distinctly rural feel, Luang Prabang was very colonial. Clearly influenced by the French colonization, baguette vendors and cafés littered the streets, interspersed with some fine temples. We wrestled up some accommodation and hit the streets to see what the city had to offer. After a few hours of walking, we retired for the afternoon to our fanned room before seeking out some Lao food for dinner near the brilliant, if repetitive, night market. Fried rice and Beerlao were on the menu, and that suited us just fine. On our way back, we met some Lao footballers who invited us to play bocce ball with them. Price of admission: Beerlao. We spent the evening getting whipped in bocce ball and debating the chances of Manchester United winning the Premier League.

We had heard about some waterfalls nearby and decided the next day that exploring them by scooter sounded much more interesting than a tuk-tuk, so we sought out Tim and his motorbike shop and got outfitted with two hot rides. After taking in Tad Sae waterfall, we were headed to Kuang Si waterfall when I had, shall we say, a boo-boo. After a fall on the motorbike, a passerby from Luang Prabang generously drove me to the Luang Prabang Provincial Hospital, where I was ever-so-lucky to discover a broken right collarbone. Initially expecting--and then hoping for--a dislocation, the bone was broken in two, and upon reading the x-rays, the technician, nurse, my incredibly generous new Lao friend and I let out a collective groan, "Ohhhh..." We might not have all spoken the same language, but we all knew what a broken bone looked like. A mildly humorous moment to lighten the mood a bit. A sling and a few pills later and I was released from the hospital. Luckily, my American friend was able to coordinate my scooter return to Luang Prabang and cart my clavical-ly impaired self back to the guesthouse to make what I knew would be an...upsetting...Skype call. Thankfully, my wonderful parents took it in stride and, though the experience has provided for a few sleepless nights for my mother, no doubt, they were generous in helping me decide on what to do next. After a day of weighing the pros and cons, I decided to keep traveling, though I knew it would be cumbersome during the healing process.

A few more days of loafing around Luang Prabang buying souvenirs and visiting the temples while the swelling subsided and I decided to head into the slightly more...modern conveniences of Hanoi, Vietnam.

But, as I would find out, getting there with two healthy collarbones would have been an experience in itself, and with only one was quite the trip.