BUS RIDE ADVENTURES: VOLUME 14
The next morning Katie and I left boarded the bus marked for Bangkok. This proved to be both more uncomfortable and more adventurous than any of the buses I had taken up to this point. Which is saying ALOT. Trust me.
The morning began by packing the entire bus full to the brim with people, stacking all of their belongings into a 12 ft. tall tower in the back of the turn-of-the-century public transit vehicle. When this infallible system could hold no more, the overflow of belongings spilled into the aisle- 2 backpacks high along the entire length of the aisle. In case of fire, just sit there unable to escape and accept the fact that you booked a 12-hour international bus ticket that costs roughly the same as a Vente Caramel Macchiato.
In the midst of this mayhem, Katie and I befriended a smooth-talkin', wise-crackin', and honestly very delightful Aussie (that's Australian for "an Australian citizen") named Brendon. We chatted about various travel experiences- apparently he had just called his boss to tell him he wouldn't be back at work, and that was that. He tried, with minimal success, to convince Katie to do the same. He also described in detail each of the various times that he had gotten "massively wasted" on the trip. It was fun.
After 4 hours on the bus from hell, we arrived at the Thai border. After an hour of filling out forms, paying money, and waiting in lines, we were officially in Thailand! Alright!
We were greeted by a massive upgrade: a brand-new 15-passenger leather seated van with fake chrome rims. And given that we only had 30 people... it should work out... oh no. Guess that whole arithmetic thing didn't work out this time. As the first group left, we waited for our "ride" to show up. Thankfully, it actually did. And we were off- in style!
BANGKOK: ARRIVAL
We arrived in Bangkok and immediately began touring around- just as the skies immediately began monsoon raining. Running for cover to equip ourselves with our trusty rain jackets, Katie and I braved the storm, which was already flooding up the streets to near-curb height. Wandering the streets, we discovered a Thai restaurant! Who would have guessed... in the middle of a town like Bangkok? I got my first dish of Phad Thai actually in Thailand. We had a wonderful dinner and conversation, enhanced only by the 4 T.V. screens playing the "Transformers" movie inside the island-themed Thai shack- inspired dinner restaurant. Just what you would expect.
The next day was a mad rush to see as much of the city as possible without missing our flights out that left at 6pm. I'm proud to say that we rose to the task.
DO "PIGEON FEEDERS" HAVE TO SUBMIT W-2 FORMS?
We toured some Busshist temples and such, and then happened upon an elderly Thai couple very politely feeding a group of pigeons with bags of seed. "How nice", I thought. The nice elderly couple gave us some seed. and we joined them in feeding the swarm of pigeons. 10 birds at a time would crawl all over us in search of food- it was alot of fun. We got some great pictures. In fact, the wonderful elderly couple handed us more and more bags of seed and even took pictures for us. When the pigeons died down and we thought we were on our way, the wonderful little Thai elderly couple began to get hostile. "500 bhat! They demanded." Oh! So that's what the perfect elderly couple was doing. We had unknowlingly enetered into a "pigeon feed" business relationship with them. I threw some bhat at them, as more locals began to crowd around and demand money, and we ran out of there. A narrow escape. Or was it?
BENY: AN INTRIGUING MESS
As we continued to walk, on our way back to the main tourist area, a tuk-tuk driver named Beny pulled up and offered a 20 bhat ride to multiple temple sites around town. Knowing it was a scam, we declined. Beny remounted his tuk-tuk, drove around the block, and reemerged. "Ok. 10 bhat." "No. Thank you." Once again, he pulled around the block, came back: "Ok ok. 5 bhat for ride all over town." "Beny- there is no way you can make a profit on a 1-hour tour for the equivalent of 15 U.S. cents. It's a scam." Once again, he left, drove around, and came back. Katie and I could not believe our eyes. "Ok. 4 bhat." "No", I replied. Beny leaves, follows the prescribed routine yet again, and pulls out all the stops. "Ok. Free. No cost. Just get in." By this point I knew it was a scam, but his persistence was so intriguing I couldn't deny him. At this point I had to see what would happen. "Ok. We'll do it." So we hopped in and Beny drove us without a hitch to the first stop, a 45 meter tall statue of Buddha. Talk about a massive statue. It was insane! Each foot of the standing Buddha was 10 feet in length. Glad we were able to see it, we returned to Beny, unsure of where we might end up yet. But I was intrigued. We departed, and after about 3 minutes, it all made sense. Beny stopped in front of a custom suit tailoring business and instructed us to get out and tour through the shop. As we got out, unsure of how to handle the situation, 2 American guys getting into a taxi began talking with us. "Don't go inside", they said. "It's a complete scam and this guy will keep driving you to different shops until you buy something. Just hop in our cab with us and we'll take you wherever you'd like." Katie and I didn't think twice. We ditched Beny, as he stood in disbelief, and slid into the cab. The guys, both from Tampa, Florida, drove us around and dropped us off at the Great Mountain Stupa. They were incredibly friendly, and it worked out perfectly.
The tour of the stupa was great. Best views of the city we saw the whole time- 360 degrees of urban bliss, while standing on a platform with my girlfriend, 12 Buddhist monks, and myself. Those monks sure make for some great photos.
As we were running late, we raced back (as best we could) to grab our stuff to go. I bargained for a "Diesel" messenger bag, which I was told would sell for over 100 Euros, and I got it for the reduced price of $16. Too true. We caught a hot pink taxi (featured in the soon-to-be-released straight-to-DVD film "Hot Pink Taxi Chronicles: Bangkok").
Thank God, Katie and I made it with plenty of time, checked in, said our final goodbyes, and flew to home and on to Delhi, respectively.
It will be tough to find a better travel partner.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
SIEM REAP: IT'S A BIG DEAL.
Ok. So this is the time that I ACTUALLY speed things up in order to get anywhere within the realm of where I currently am (Kathmandu, Nepal). Though I will not have the capacity to share all that I would like, rest in the knowledge that wild adventures took place around every corner. Also note that any writing samples should be taken from the first 2 weeks of writings, and not these rushed and often grammatically incorrect entries. So fasten your seatbelts, keep arms and legs inside at all times, sit back, and enjoy the quickest re-cap Matthew Ridenour has ever attempted in his life.
Friday, 26 June + Saturday, 27 June
SIEM REAP: TEMPLES GALORE!
Sleep-deprived, we arrived at 6am. Seng (the quiet tuk-tuk driver with a heart of gold we would have for the next 2 days) picked us up.
We toured (viz Seng's trusty tuk-tuk) into the entrance of the temples of Angkor Wat, built by the Khmers between 800 and 1200 A.D. Apparently it's cool to charge $20/person/day to enter. We saw many absolutely jaw-dropping temple sites that I had studied in Architectural History class. Not that I remembered any useful knowledge, but it nonetheless illustrates that these are a pretty big deal.
We spent most of the first day in the main complex, Angkor Thom, where we ran around taking photos like little children in a candy store. Around every corner was a new and incredible view or room or stone statue. My top 2 experiences in Angkor Wat were:
1. Walking through Thep Phnom, the temple where the mildly entertaining, poorly acted blockbuster, Tomb Raider was filmed. Having studied the complex in Architecture school, I knew the main postcard scene of the huge old tree with snake-like roots growing out of the ruins was in the complex. After walking through courtyards and ducking under doorways, we turned a corner, and there it was: the money shot. I got so excited- got a bunch of photos of the tree, myself next to it, and Katie and I in front of it. It was a beautiful moment. After soaking in the glory of the scene for a few minutes, we continued on our way out... only to find that the ACTUAL money shot was in the NEXT courtyard area! I was floored. And felt a bit foolish. But mostly was floored by the scene. It's unlike anything in the world. Now I know why Simon West decided to have Angelina Jolie's stunt double run around this complex in the middle of Cambodia- it's unreal. In this case, my ignorance made the whole experience that much richer.
2. Arriving from the backside at Angkor Wat, the main temple complex, with 4 cone-shaped roof mounds projecting above a central courtyard- basically the "Big Momma" of ancient temple complexes- and seeing 2 Buddhist monks in vibrantly bright orange cloaks sitting on the faded brown steps to the entrance. Walking up the steps and taking photos with them (some of the best of the trip) and talking with them for a half hour. Then continuing through and out to the main processional entrance that passes over the huge moat surrounding the complex. Looking back at the complex behind, as the day turned to dusk and the sun began to set was a worshipful experience.
Instead of describing how incredible each of these temple complexes were, I'm just gonna say this: "Go." You will not regret it. And if you don't believe me, just ask Ms. Katie Martin. She's a more trustworthy source anyway.
Other highlights of Siem Reap included:
1. Eating a wonderful dinner at the Kris Warner-recommended "Soup Dragon" restaurant on the main tourist street in Siem Reap. Surprisingly, the food actually lives up to the awesomeness of the restaurant's name.
2. Attending a Seng-recommended (as he gets a commission) "Traditional Cambodian Dance Performance Buffet." Surprisingly, it was actually worse than it sounds. It was horrible. Katie described it as "Cruise Ship Entertainment". I agree. I'm sure I'm supposed to appreciate this dance style because it is "traditional," but unfortunately I'm an uncultured American who needs something at least close to Cirque Du Soliel in order to be mildly entertained.
Friday, 26 June + Saturday, 27 June
SIEM REAP: TEMPLES GALORE!
Sleep-deprived, we arrived at 6am. Seng (the quiet tuk-tuk driver with a heart of gold we would have for the next 2 days) picked us up.
We toured (viz Seng's trusty tuk-tuk) into the entrance of the temples of Angkor Wat, built by the Khmers between 800 and 1200 A.D. Apparently it's cool to charge $20/person/day to enter. We saw many absolutely jaw-dropping temple sites that I had studied in Architectural History class. Not that I remembered any useful knowledge, but it nonetheless illustrates that these are a pretty big deal.
We spent most of the first day in the main complex, Angkor Thom, where we ran around taking photos like little children in a candy store. Around every corner was a new and incredible view or room or stone statue. My top 2 experiences in Angkor Wat were:
1. Walking through Thep Phnom, the temple where the mildly entertaining, poorly acted blockbuster, Tomb Raider was filmed. Having studied the complex in Architecture school, I knew the main postcard scene of the huge old tree with snake-like roots growing out of the ruins was in the complex. After walking through courtyards and ducking under doorways, we turned a corner, and there it was: the money shot. I got so excited- got a bunch of photos of the tree, myself next to it, and Katie and I in front of it. It was a beautiful moment. After soaking in the glory of the scene for a few minutes, we continued on our way out... only to find that the ACTUAL money shot was in the NEXT courtyard area! I was floored. And felt a bit foolish. But mostly was floored by the scene. It's unlike anything in the world. Now I know why Simon West decided to have Angelina Jolie's stunt double run around this complex in the middle of Cambodia- it's unreal. In this case, my ignorance made the whole experience that much richer.
2. Arriving from the backside at Angkor Wat, the main temple complex, with 4 cone-shaped roof mounds projecting above a central courtyard- basically the "Big Momma" of ancient temple complexes- and seeing 2 Buddhist monks in vibrantly bright orange cloaks sitting on the faded brown steps to the entrance. Walking up the steps and taking photos with them (some of the best of the trip) and talking with them for a half hour. Then continuing through and out to the main processional entrance that passes over the huge moat surrounding the complex. Looking back at the complex behind, as the day turned to dusk and the sun began to set was a worshipful experience.
Instead of describing how incredible each of these temple complexes were, I'm just gonna say this: "Go." You will not regret it. And if you don't believe me, just ask Ms. Katie Martin. She's a more trustworthy source anyway.
Other highlights of Siem Reap included:
1. Eating a wonderful dinner at the Kris Warner-recommended "Soup Dragon" restaurant on the main tourist street in Siem Reap. Surprisingly, the food actually lives up to the awesomeness of the restaurant's name.
2. Attending a Seng-recommended (as he gets a commission) "Traditional Cambodian Dance Performance Buffet." Surprisingly, it was actually worse than it sounds. It was horrible. Katie described it as "Cruise Ship Entertainment". I agree. I'm sure I'm supposed to appreciate this dance style because it is "traditional," but unfortunately I'm an uncultured American who needs something at least close to Cirque Du Soliel in order to be mildly entertained.
Friday, June 26, 2009
BACK TO PHNOM PEHN: COULDN'T GET ENOUGH
At 7:30am we were on our way to the infamous bus back to Phnom Pehn. The ride was smooth, and we arrived by lunchtime. We called Kris and arranged that we would meet up for dinner before the Friday night worship service at the orphanage. That meant we had 3 hours to do about 600 things. 1) Buy night bus tickets up to Siem Reap - CHECK. 2) Eat lunch at a cool place on the river where they say that Chicken Fingers take 3 min. to prepare when they actually take 30 - CHECK. 3) Tour around Phnom Penh & see Royal Palace - NOT REALLY. 4) Meet up with Katie Davis who works at a local micro-finance office that partners with Kiva - CHECK. 5) Get to "Freebird" bar & grill by 5pm for dinner with Kris - ALMOST CHECK.
THE ROYAL PALACE: SERIOUS ABOUT SLEEVES
Knowing we were in a crazy hurry, Katie and I hired a tuk-tuk driver... who we later discovered spoke no English. He was, however, totally cool. Which more than made up for it. He took us by the Royal Palace, we hopped out, walked up to ticketing, and immediately walked back out- apparently sleeveless shirts are a faux pas in the Phnom Pehn Royal Palace. Either that or the ticketing lady really just didn't like Katie. Our McGyver solution: grab the blanket covering the back seat of the tuk-tuk and cover Katie's shoulders with it. The driver seemed cool with it. We walked back, confident in our new method- only to be, once again, denied. The sleeves must be attached. Who knew?
Bruised, but not beaten, we left and tuk-tuk'd over to meet Katie Davis at her office. Miracuously, we found the place, and were greeted by Katie at her office entrance. She explained the micro-finance process to us: how her company gives small loans (with a $500 limit) to local farmers or small businesses to aid them in their pursuits. It's a great process, that was nice to learn more about.
FREEBIRD: A LITTLE SLICE OF AMERICA IN THE HEART OF CAMBODIA
By the end of our time with Katie the clock struck 5pm. We were supposed to be with Kris then. Crap! I called Kris, and he directed us to simply meet him at the restaurant. No problem. Little did we know, we were entering into the middle of Phnom Penh traffic in the middle of the busiest area in town. Lucky for us, our driver didn't care about traffic. Incredibly, our tuk-tuk managed to push through spaces between buses, cars, and motorbikes that were approximately the width of a pencil, and we arrived in no time.
Dinner was great- I was fortunate enough to eat the first Mexican food I had even seen in 2 weeks. 3 Camb/Mex soft tacos = Not quite on par with Tex/Mex, but not bad. Not bad at all.
WORSHIP SERVICE AT THE ORPHANAGE
After dinner we were off to the orphanage for worship. We arrived and entered the sanctuary to 80 children singing praise songs to "Preya Jesu". It was beautiful. Kids of all ages: from 18 months to 18 years, and even staff and pastors. Up front: a single high school boy on synthesized keyboard with all the drum tracks programmed, and 3 singers with microphones. It was awesome.
The worship was all in Cambodian, and so we just took it all in from the back for a while- until they began singing "Shout To The Lord". I recognized the melody and began singing it to myself along with the rest of the room singing in their native tongue. It was so powerful- the reality of the situation hit me- that we were all praising the same God as one. A picture of heaven. I focused on the words, and they made more sense than ever before. It was a wonderful and emotional experience.
After worship, the pastor preached, and after they split the room into 2 and began praying out loud for specific requests. The kids, though of a wide age range, were very focused and excited to be in worship. It was refreshing. After the service, Katie and I got to meet a number of the children, as many of them ran up to us and wanted to be near us. Once I began picking up a few of the boys and throwing them around the room (not literally, Child Services), many more came up and wanted to be spun around or raised up above my head and dropped back down. It was so fun. My most faithful companion, probably the cutest kid I've ever seen, maybe 4 years old, wanted to be spun around by his arms. So I spun him until we were both dizzy. Immediately, he wanted to go again. Then his friend jumped in. So I spun him. Then the other kid wanted to go again. Then the other one. Repeat this process 10 times. Then, the 2nd kid got tired, but the first one could not get enough. Seriously. We kept agreeing on "Just one more"- which turned into 3 more. I was starting to get nautious. But it was totally worth it to see him laugh. He was a totally hilarious lil' ball of energy.
Katie connected with a bunch of the girls- they all loved her. They were doing girl stuff- like talking. As for me, after about 50,000 spins, it was time to bid the orphanage adieu. We spoke with a few more of the kids, and soon enough we were back in Kris's car.
Kris dropped us off and we said our final goodbyes. What an incredible time it had been with him! So encouraging to see the work that Foursquare Children of Promise is doing in Cambodia- and so glad Kris is being used so faithfully there. It was an enriching time.
NIGHT BUS: SIEM REAP
We packed our bags up and got ready to head out for our night bus to Siem Reap. We decided to just go for it and charter the bus instead of staying in Phnom Pehn and leaving the next morning. Good decision? Bad decision? You decide.
We arrived at the "bus terminal" (a.k.a.) a sidewalk on some barely lit street in some random neighborhood in Phnom Pehn at 11:30pm to wait for the bus. At midnight the pre-WWII assembled bus arrived to sweep us off on our 6-hour journey to Siem Reap.
This bus had all the amenities: seats that leaned back at least 4 degrees, an aisle down the middle, and some windows. It even had a flat tire that we got to wait on the road for an hour while they fixed- and one of the drivers threw all the passenger's bags up onto the 2nd level, right where I was, to get them out of the way for some reason. All of these circumstances, combined with a jarringly bumpy road, contributed to my being awake nearly all night. The good news: I made it the furthest through my "Sleep" playlist on my iPOD I ever have. Normally I'm out by the 2nd song- this time I made it to the 2nd to last. Also good news: Katie got to rest. I don't know how she managed this superhuman task, but she did, and I'm not only glad... I'm impressed.
THE ROYAL PALACE: SERIOUS ABOUT SLEEVES
Knowing we were in a crazy hurry, Katie and I hired a tuk-tuk driver... who we later discovered spoke no English. He was, however, totally cool. Which more than made up for it. He took us by the Royal Palace, we hopped out, walked up to ticketing, and immediately walked back out- apparently sleeveless shirts are a faux pas in the Phnom Pehn Royal Palace. Either that or the ticketing lady really just didn't like Katie. Our McGyver solution: grab the blanket covering the back seat of the tuk-tuk and cover Katie's shoulders with it. The driver seemed cool with it. We walked back, confident in our new method- only to be, once again, denied. The sleeves must be attached. Who knew?
Bruised, but not beaten, we left and tuk-tuk'd over to meet Katie Davis at her office. Miracuously, we found the place, and were greeted by Katie at her office entrance. She explained the micro-finance process to us: how her company gives small loans (with a $500 limit) to local farmers or small businesses to aid them in their pursuits. It's a great process, that was nice to learn more about.
FREEBIRD: A LITTLE SLICE OF AMERICA IN THE HEART OF CAMBODIA
By the end of our time with Katie the clock struck 5pm. We were supposed to be with Kris then. Crap! I called Kris, and he directed us to simply meet him at the restaurant. No problem. Little did we know, we were entering into the middle of Phnom Penh traffic in the middle of the busiest area in town. Lucky for us, our driver didn't care about traffic. Incredibly, our tuk-tuk managed to push through spaces between buses, cars, and motorbikes that were approximately the width of a pencil, and we arrived in no time.
Dinner was great- I was fortunate enough to eat the first Mexican food I had even seen in 2 weeks. 3 Camb/Mex soft tacos = Not quite on par with Tex/Mex, but not bad. Not bad at all.
WORSHIP SERVICE AT THE ORPHANAGE
After dinner we were off to the orphanage for worship. We arrived and entered the sanctuary to 80 children singing praise songs to "Preya Jesu". It was beautiful. Kids of all ages: from 18 months to 18 years, and even staff and pastors. Up front: a single high school boy on synthesized keyboard with all the drum tracks programmed, and 3 singers with microphones. It was awesome.
The worship was all in Cambodian, and so we just took it all in from the back for a while- until they began singing "Shout To The Lord". I recognized the melody and began singing it to myself along with the rest of the room singing in their native tongue. It was so powerful- the reality of the situation hit me- that we were all praising the same God as one. A picture of heaven. I focused on the words, and they made more sense than ever before. It was a wonderful and emotional experience.
After worship, the pastor preached, and after they split the room into 2 and began praying out loud for specific requests. The kids, though of a wide age range, were very focused and excited to be in worship. It was refreshing. After the service, Katie and I got to meet a number of the children, as many of them ran up to us and wanted to be near us. Once I began picking up a few of the boys and throwing them around the room (not literally, Child Services), many more came up and wanted to be spun around or raised up above my head and dropped back down. It was so fun. My most faithful companion, probably the cutest kid I've ever seen, maybe 4 years old, wanted to be spun around by his arms. So I spun him until we were both dizzy. Immediately, he wanted to go again. Then his friend jumped in. So I spun him. Then the other kid wanted to go again. Then the other one. Repeat this process 10 times. Then, the 2nd kid got tired, but the first one could not get enough. Seriously. We kept agreeing on "Just one more"- which turned into 3 more. I was starting to get nautious. But it was totally worth it to see him laugh. He was a totally hilarious lil' ball of energy.
Katie connected with a bunch of the girls- they all loved her. They were doing girl stuff- like talking. As for me, after about 50,000 spins, it was time to bid the orphanage adieu. We spoke with a few more of the kids, and soon enough we were back in Kris's car.
Kris dropped us off and we said our final goodbyes. What an incredible time it had been with him! So encouraging to see the work that Foursquare Children of Promise is doing in Cambodia- and so glad Kris is being used so faithfully there. It was an enriching time.
NIGHT BUS: SIEM REAP
We packed our bags up and got ready to head out for our night bus to Siem Reap. We decided to just go for it and charter the bus instead of staying in Phnom Pehn and leaving the next morning. Good decision? Bad decision? You decide.
We arrived at the "bus terminal" (a.k.a.) a sidewalk on some barely lit street in some random neighborhood in Phnom Pehn at 11:30pm to wait for the bus. At midnight the pre-WWII assembled bus arrived to sweep us off on our 6-hour journey to Siem Reap.
This bus had all the amenities: seats that leaned back at least 4 degrees, an aisle down the middle, and some windows. It even had a flat tire that we got to wait on the road for an hour while they fixed- and one of the drivers threw all the passenger's bags up onto the 2nd level, right where I was, to get them out of the way for some reason. All of these circumstances, combined with a jarringly bumpy road, contributed to my being awake nearly all night. The good news: I made it the furthest through my "Sleep" playlist on my iPOD I ever have. Normally I'm out by the 2nd song- this time I made it to the 2nd to last. Also good news: Katie got to rest. I don't know how she managed this superhuman task, but she did, and I'm not only glad... I'm impressed.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
SIHANOUKVILLE: DAY 2
BEACH SELLERS
The next morning was absolutely brilliant. I met Katie out on the beach as she was surrounded by a cluster of 6 Cambodian girls, talking with them as they succeeded in selling her hand-made bracelets. I ended up with 2. She was also getting a mani/pedi from an older Vietnamese woman. I laid down in the beach lounge next to them to get some reading done while soaking up the sun. This was apparently too much to ask. Within 2 seconds of taking my place, I became the new focus. Bracelets, necklaces, fruit- everything I had always wanted was for sale from the kids there. That's when the mani/pedi lady's sister showed up. She claimed she would simply start on one hand- free sample- and then I could decline. But everyone knows that you can't just start a mani/pedi and then stop all of a sudden. After trying to resist, I caved and got my 2nd mani/pedi of my life. The first being bringing some gnarly hands and feet back up to U.S. Health Department standards after 3 weeks in Kenya.
THE EVERLASTING SWIM
Armed with perfectly formed, glistening nails, Katie and I jumped in the Cambodian tropical water for the first time. Perfect temperature. So perfect, in fact, that we decided to make a swim of it. Spotting a rock peninsula that seemed close enough, we began swimming. After 15 minutes of kicking and paddling, the peninsula seemed further away. "How is that even possible?" I wondered. Needless to say, it was much more of a workout than we had anticipated. Which turned out great. Especially when the final 200 feet were spent falling on each other while attempting to walk across sharp rocks to reach the destination first. It was the slowest moving race I've ever witnessed.
SCOOTIN' ADVENTURES
After exploring the wonderful rock peninsular region in all of its beauty, we walked back to the beach. We had bigger plans. Those plans involved driving our scooters 12 km outside of town to the Ream National Forest. I was on empty, so it was high time to put some gas in my hog. We drove to a nearby station, and about 1/4 mile before arriving, the beast began to putter out. As my hog slowly lost all power, I shifted over lanes of traffic, until I ran completely out of gas and it died on me at the intersection in front of the station. I reacted quickly: pushing the scooter out of traffic and onto the shoulder to avoid being killed, and then up the hill to the station. Whew! What a relief that I made it! I had the attendant top me off, and Katie and I were off again- smiling the whole scenic drive.
NOON: AWKWARD SITUATIONS ABOUND
We arrived at the turnoff for the park, and followed the road until we saw a sign that read "National Forest Tourism Office". Assuming this was the start point, we entered. We had no idea what we were getting into. As we pulled in, a Cambodian guy in his late 20's walked out to greet us. "Hello, I am Noon. I am guide for National Forest. I will take you on tour." "Great!" we thought.
Noon showed us the different hikes we could do. Then he told us it would be $7 each. "Noon- why does it say $4 each here on the poster?" I inquired. Without skipping a beat, Noon replied: "Oh, that was made in 2003. It's more now." I knew we were in for a treat.
We payed him the $14 and began walking to our scooters. Noon stopped us: "Oh, also, could I drive one of your scooters? I don't have one." Hmmm... this was getting strange. "Ok, fine." I said "take Katie's, and she'll ride with me". As we got ready to leave, once again, Noon had a great idea: "How about I take the girl with me?" "You mean my girlfriend?" I asked. "Yes. I want to practice my English," he nonchalantly replied. "Uhm... no. You can practice your English with us when we arrive." Noon seemed content with that answer and we were off.
We drove up to a random Cambodian military base in the forest, and parked our scooters. Noon walked ahead of us, explaining the geography and ecology of the area. All of a sudden, Katie screamed out that she had gotten stung. We stopped, and sure enough, she was either stung or bitten twice on her back by some huge Cambodian bee thing. I was bummed. We did our best to medicate the stings, but she was in pain. She was a total trooper though- continued on hiking without a single complaint. That Katie Martin- she's one tough woman. As we hiked, Noon informed us of others that had been stung by bees like that. "Once, a man was stung by bees here, and then he died." "WHAT?" We asked, "Are you KIDDING? Noon- this is serious." "No, but you're fine. Don't worry. He was stung many times." Way to instill confidence , Noon.
Then, Noon stopped us at a tree. He told Katie to put her hand around the tree. Then he told me to as well. Then he asked Katie for her camera. "Ok. Now don't cry!" he told us. Then he took a picture of us. Holding the camera up again, he then said, "Ok- now kiss." Caught off guard, we asked "What?" Unphased, Noon repeated: "Kiss now and I take picture." This exact same situation happened about 12 times. We arrive at a rock formation: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at a barely trickling waterfall: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at the beach: Noon wants the camera. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced.
The scenery was beautiful, and Noon definitely added some flavor to the hike. We went back to the scooters to head to our final destination: the beach. Once again, Katie and I were about to hop on together, and then Noon worked in a smooth proposition: "I will take Katie with me this time, because it is hard for me to squeeze the brakes for going down hill." "Uhm... no. She's not riding with you. And beyond that, no one should ride with you if you can't squeeze the brakes," I replied. That seemed to suffice for Noon. We took off, chuckling about the situation. While driving Katie's scooter, Noon stopped off twice: once to buy himself water (with the money we had given him) and the second time to buy cigarettes (with the same stash). Finally, we arrived at the beach and noon pulled another one of his classic "I take picture- now kiss" moves. By then it was time to head back and say farewell to Noon. In order to make certain that Noon wouldn't try to pull some funny business (as he had already the whole afternoon), I told Noon to hop on the back of my scooter with me, and Katie would drive separately. This actually made for some really good conversation about Buddhism and Christianity. By the end, I encouraged Noon to look into Christianity to see who Jesus was. It was an unexpectedly blessed time.
We bid adieu to our friend and guide, Noon. He had grown on me alot. All of his quirks and strange phrases were starting to become endearing.
SCOOTER DANGER!
Katie and I drove back the 12km to Sihanoukville, as the wind howled, pummeling our little scootrs and making staying on the road a task. Add to this the fact that there is no shoulder, and cars & trucks go whizzing past, barely making enough room for the American tourists putting along. At one point a huge bus was coming at me in the opposite lane, and out of nowhere a bus appeared next to me in my lane, pushing within inches of my scooter. I was so freaked out I almost lost it and pulled off the road into the dirt, but going at 30mph that would have been treacherous. Luckily the bus missed both Katie and I, and we arrived back in town safely. Thank you GOD!
Once again, we were lucky enough to have another incredible evening of dining on the beach with fresh caught & grilled seafood. By this point we were so exhausted and sunburned from the day that we each went directly off to bed after dinner. What an adventurous day!
The next morning was absolutely brilliant. I met Katie out on the beach as she was surrounded by a cluster of 6 Cambodian girls, talking with them as they succeeded in selling her hand-made bracelets. I ended up with 2. She was also getting a mani/pedi from an older Vietnamese woman. I laid down in the beach lounge next to them to get some reading done while soaking up the sun. This was apparently too much to ask. Within 2 seconds of taking my place, I became the new focus. Bracelets, necklaces, fruit- everything I had always wanted was for sale from the kids there. That's when the mani/pedi lady's sister showed up. She claimed she would simply start on one hand- free sample- and then I could decline. But everyone knows that you can't just start a mani/pedi and then stop all of a sudden. After trying to resist, I caved and got my 2nd mani/pedi of my life. The first being bringing some gnarly hands and feet back up to U.S. Health Department standards after 3 weeks in Kenya.
THE EVERLASTING SWIM
Armed with perfectly formed, glistening nails, Katie and I jumped in the Cambodian tropical water for the first time. Perfect temperature. So perfect, in fact, that we decided to make a swim of it. Spotting a rock peninsula that seemed close enough, we began swimming. After 15 minutes of kicking and paddling, the peninsula seemed further away. "How is that even possible?" I wondered. Needless to say, it was much more of a workout than we had anticipated. Which turned out great. Especially when the final 200 feet were spent falling on each other while attempting to walk across sharp rocks to reach the destination first. It was the slowest moving race I've ever witnessed.
SCOOTIN' ADVENTURES
After exploring the wonderful rock peninsular region in all of its beauty, we walked back to the beach. We had bigger plans. Those plans involved driving our scooters 12 km outside of town to the Ream National Forest. I was on empty, so it was high time to put some gas in my hog. We drove to a nearby station, and about 1/4 mile before arriving, the beast began to putter out. As my hog slowly lost all power, I shifted over lanes of traffic, until I ran completely out of gas and it died on me at the intersection in front of the station. I reacted quickly: pushing the scooter out of traffic and onto the shoulder to avoid being killed, and then up the hill to the station. Whew! What a relief that I made it! I had the attendant top me off, and Katie and I were off again- smiling the whole scenic drive.
NOON: AWKWARD SITUATIONS ABOUND
We arrived at the turnoff for the park, and followed the road until we saw a sign that read "National Forest Tourism Office". Assuming this was the start point, we entered. We had no idea what we were getting into. As we pulled in, a Cambodian guy in his late 20's walked out to greet us. "Hello, I am Noon. I am guide for National Forest. I will take you on tour." "Great!" we thought.
Noon showed us the different hikes we could do. Then he told us it would be $7 each. "Noon- why does it say $4 each here on the poster?" I inquired. Without skipping a beat, Noon replied: "Oh, that was made in 2003. It's more now." I knew we were in for a treat.
We payed him the $14 and began walking to our scooters. Noon stopped us: "Oh, also, could I drive one of your scooters? I don't have one." Hmmm... this was getting strange. "Ok, fine." I said "take Katie's, and she'll ride with me". As we got ready to leave, once again, Noon had a great idea: "How about I take the girl with me?" "You mean my girlfriend?" I asked. "Yes. I want to practice my English," he nonchalantly replied. "Uhm... no. You can practice your English with us when we arrive." Noon seemed content with that answer and we were off.
We drove up to a random Cambodian military base in the forest, and parked our scooters. Noon walked ahead of us, explaining the geography and ecology of the area. All of a sudden, Katie screamed out that she had gotten stung. We stopped, and sure enough, she was either stung or bitten twice on her back by some huge Cambodian bee thing. I was bummed. We did our best to medicate the stings, but she was in pain. She was a total trooper though- continued on hiking without a single complaint. That Katie Martin- she's one tough woman. As we hiked, Noon informed us of others that had been stung by bees like that. "Once, a man was stung by bees here, and then he died." "WHAT?" We asked, "Are you KIDDING? Noon- this is serious." "No, but you're fine. Don't worry. He was stung many times." Way to instill confidence , Noon.
Then, Noon stopped us at a tree. He told Katie to put her hand around the tree. Then he told me to as well. Then he asked Katie for her camera. "Ok. Now don't cry!" he told us. Then he took a picture of us. Holding the camera up again, he then said, "Ok- now kiss." Caught off guard, we asked "What?" Unphased, Noon repeated: "Kiss now and I take picture." This exact same situation happened about 12 times. We arrive at a rock formation: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at a barely trickling waterfall: Noon wants the camera. We arrive at the beach: Noon wants the camera. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced.
The scenery was beautiful, and Noon definitely added some flavor to the hike. We went back to the scooters to head to our final destination: the beach. Once again, Katie and I were about to hop on together, and then Noon worked in a smooth proposition: "I will take Katie with me this time, because it is hard for me to squeeze the brakes for going down hill." "Uhm... no. She's not riding with you. And beyond that, no one should ride with you if you can't squeeze the brakes," I replied. That seemed to suffice for Noon. We took off, chuckling about the situation. While driving Katie's scooter, Noon stopped off twice: once to buy himself water (with the money we had given him) and the second time to buy cigarettes (with the same stash). Finally, we arrived at the beach and noon pulled another one of his classic "I take picture- now kiss" moves. By then it was time to head back and say farewell to Noon. In order to make certain that Noon wouldn't try to pull some funny business (as he had already the whole afternoon), I told Noon to hop on the back of my scooter with me, and Katie would drive separately. This actually made for some really good conversation about Buddhism and Christianity. By the end, I encouraged Noon to look into Christianity to see who Jesus was. It was an unexpectedly blessed time.
We bid adieu to our friend and guide, Noon. He had grown on me alot. All of his quirks and strange phrases were starting to become endearing.
SCOOTER DANGER!
Katie and I drove back the 12km to Sihanoukville, as the wind howled, pummeling our little scootrs and making staying on the road a task. Add to this the fact that there is no shoulder, and cars & trucks go whizzing past, barely making enough room for the American tourists putting along. At one point a huge bus was coming at me in the opposite lane, and out of nowhere a bus appeared next to me in my lane, pushing within inches of my scooter. I was so freaked out I almost lost it and pulled off the road into the dirt, but going at 30mph that would have been treacherous. Luckily the bus missed both Katie and I, and we arrived back in town safely. Thank you GOD!
Once again, we were lucky enough to have another incredible evening of dining on the beach with fresh caught & grilled seafood. By this point we were so exhausted and sunburned from the day that we each went directly off to bed after dinner. What an adventurous day!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
SIHANOUKVILLE: DAY 1
The day before us was shrouded in mystery. Where exactly are we going? How do we get there? When do we leave? All our questions were soon answered when deciding to book a bus from Phnom Pehn down to Sihanoukville, a laid-back beach town set on the Cambodian coast.
ROADSIDE FOOD: INSPIRATIONAL
By noon we were off. The bus ride was great- Katie and I got to share music, read, ya know... stuff you do on the bus. We stopped at a roadside eatery and I purchased a Cambodian dumpling- a spherical bread mound filled with some meat concoction in the center, kind of like a jelly donut, except more nutritional and not as good. I looked at my dumpling and saw potential for it to star in its own Primetime NBC sitcom in which the dumpling shares a downtown Manhattan apartment with a New York accountant, Dwayne. It's called "Dwayne and The Dumpling" and it premiers Tuesday night at 8 on NBC. When I pitched the idea to Katie, she loved it. Hopefully the NBC reps feel the same.
WELCOME TO SIHANOUKVILLE! EVERYONE YOU MEET WILL NOW LIE TO YOUR FACE
We arrived in Sihanoukville around 6pm, and were immediately met by the typical mob of taxi, tuk tuk, and motobike drivers. It was great. Narrowly squeezing our way through the crowd, we grabbed our bags and were easily persuaded by 2 young Cambodian motobikers to hop on the back of each of their bikes. They each put our huge backpacks in their laps and drove, while we hung on behind them. It was super fun. Without describing where we were headed, they drove us up to a hotel on the main road along the beach- on the other side of the beach. When we told them and the hotel staff that we were hoping for a hotel on the beach, they all responded with "No. Not possible. No hotels on the beach." "Really?" I asked, "That's strange, because I was just told by a friend that there are hotels on the beach." "No. The government does not allow hotels there. Only restaurants." I had a strange feeling. "Please take us somewhere else", I requested.
So we were off- to another hotel further from the beach. Again, the same conversation. Us: "Take us to the beach." Scooter Boys: "No hotels there." Finally we had had it. "Fine," I said. "We will go find one ourselves." The scooter boys immediately changed their tone: "Ok, ok. We will take you to a hotel on the beach." Astounded, I lost it: "No you will NOT take us. This business relationship is over. You lied to our faces multiple times. We are through, and I hope that you learn from this and never lie to foreigners again." It was actually very liberating. I paid them, and they were off- and more importantly, we were free.
MOTORBIKES TO CALL OUR OWN
It was at this point that things got good. REAL good. Katie and I went to the hotel counter and rented our OWN motorbikes. "We don't need those guys," we chuckled, "we're doing this ourselves!" And boy did that pay off. After loading our enormous backpacks onto our backs, fastening our messenger bags to our laps, and revving the engines on our new rental scooters, we were MOVIN'! The process was actually much less smooth than this, but we did our best. I mean, we had multiple bags hanging off each direction, and aren't necessarily accustomed to driving scooters on dirt roads in Cambodian beach towns. But we got the hang of it. Most importantly, we had FUN! We were both just laughing at how ridiculous we looked: white tourists timidly driving matching scooters around Cambodia with all their possessions strapped to their bodies. Add to that the fact that we couldn't really turn well at all, and it made for good material from a marginally funny Will Farrell comedy.
BEACH DATE NIGHT
That night we went out onto the beach, where they have restaurant after restaurant, each grilling fresh seafood and vegetables- while you sit in cushioned lounge chairs on the sand. It was an absolute delight. Such good food. Such an incredible environment. And so few people- it felt like an undiscovered slice of paradise.
As Katie and I were conversing, who walks by but my British friend, John. "John!" I exclaimed. John was less excited (Brits aren't a very excitable people), but he had a wide British grin. We all caught up for a while and then continued with John to a bar down the beach. Foreigners hired by the bar awkwardly invited us to join them on the raised wooden dance floor as a "DJ" pressed play on his iTUNES for various American Top 40 songs. We danced for a while (as the only ones). After a bit, Katie and I decided it was time to leave- and go to another place on the opposite side of the beach that turned out to be nearly the same scene. Except for the fact that 2 15-year-old Cambodian DJ's dressed up like 50 Cent were spinning poorly cut mashups of Lady Gaga mixed with The Mamas and the Papas "California Dreamin". It was interesting, to say the least. So we danced there, amidst the DJ's emerging onto the dance floor, complete with NY Yankees hats cocked to the side, sports jerseys open to the breeze, and baggy "gangster" jeans- while singing at the top of their lungs "All the leaves are brown!..." and pop and lock break dancing. I felt right at home.
ROADSIDE FOOD: INSPIRATIONAL
By noon we were off. The bus ride was great- Katie and I got to share music, read, ya know... stuff you do on the bus. We stopped at a roadside eatery and I purchased a Cambodian dumpling- a spherical bread mound filled with some meat concoction in the center, kind of like a jelly donut, except more nutritional and not as good. I looked at my dumpling and saw potential for it to star in its own Primetime NBC sitcom in which the dumpling shares a downtown Manhattan apartment with a New York accountant, Dwayne. It's called "Dwayne and The Dumpling" and it premiers Tuesday night at 8 on NBC. When I pitched the idea to Katie, she loved it. Hopefully the NBC reps feel the same.
WELCOME TO SIHANOUKVILLE! EVERYONE YOU MEET WILL NOW LIE TO YOUR FACE
We arrived in Sihanoukville around 6pm, and were immediately met by the typical mob of taxi, tuk tuk, and motobike drivers. It was great. Narrowly squeezing our way through the crowd, we grabbed our bags and were easily persuaded by 2 young Cambodian motobikers to hop on the back of each of their bikes. They each put our huge backpacks in their laps and drove, while we hung on behind them. It was super fun. Without describing where we were headed, they drove us up to a hotel on the main road along the beach- on the other side of the beach. When we told them and the hotel staff that we were hoping for a hotel on the beach, they all responded with "No. Not possible. No hotels on the beach." "Really?" I asked, "That's strange, because I was just told by a friend that there are hotels on the beach." "No. The government does not allow hotels there. Only restaurants." I had a strange feeling. "Please take us somewhere else", I requested.
So we were off- to another hotel further from the beach. Again, the same conversation. Us: "Take us to the beach." Scooter Boys: "No hotels there." Finally we had had it. "Fine," I said. "We will go find one ourselves." The scooter boys immediately changed their tone: "Ok, ok. We will take you to a hotel on the beach." Astounded, I lost it: "No you will NOT take us. This business relationship is over. You lied to our faces multiple times. We are through, and I hope that you learn from this and never lie to foreigners again." It was actually very liberating. I paid them, and they were off- and more importantly, we were free.
MOTORBIKES TO CALL OUR OWN
It was at this point that things got good. REAL good. Katie and I went to the hotel counter and rented our OWN motorbikes. "We don't need those guys," we chuckled, "we're doing this ourselves!" And boy did that pay off. After loading our enormous backpacks onto our backs, fastening our messenger bags to our laps, and revving the engines on our new rental scooters, we were MOVIN'! The process was actually much less smooth than this, but we did our best. I mean, we had multiple bags hanging off each direction, and aren't necessarily accustomed to driving scooters on dirt roads in Cambodian beach towns. But we got the hang of it. Most importantly, we had FUN! We were both just laughing at how ridiculous we looked: white tourists timidly driving matching scooters around Cambodia with all their possessions strapped to their bodies. Add to that the fact that we couldn't really turn well at all, and it made for good material from a marginally funny Will Farrell comedy.
BEACH DATE NIGHT
That night we went out onto the beach, where they have restaurant after restaurant, each grilling fresh seafood and vegetables- while you sit in cushioned lounge chairs on the sand. It was an absolute delight. Such good food. Such an incredible environment. And so few people- it felt like an undiscovered slice of paradise.
As Katie and I were conversing, who walks by but my British friend, John. "John!" I exclaimed. John was less excited (Brits aren't a very excitable people), but he had a wide British grin. We all caught up for a while and then continued with John to a bar down the beach. Foreigners hired by the bar awkwardly invited us to join them on the raised wooden dance floor as a "DJ" pressed play on his iTUNES for various American Top 40 songs. We danced for a while (as the only ones). After a bit, Katie and I decided it was time to leave- and go to another place on the opposite side of the beach that turned out to be nearly the same scene. Except for the fact that 2 15-year-old Cambodian DJ's dressed up like 50 Cent were spinning poorly cut mashups of Lady Gaga mixed with The Mamas and the Papas "California Dreamin". It was interesting, to say the least. So we danced there, amidst the DJ's emerging onto the dance floor, complete with NY Yankees hats cocked to the side, sports jerseys open to the breeze, and baggy "gangster" jeans- while singing at the top of their lungs "All the leaves are brown!..." and pop and lock break dancing. I felt right at home.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
PHNOM PEHN, CAMBODIA
AWAKENING: CAMBODIA
Waking up in Cambodia for the first time is a new experience. All over the place they have these little booths that resemble a phone booth, except there is always a middle-aged Cambodian woman sitting in a plastic chair in front, texting on her mobile phone. You approach her, slowly, and tell her the area code you wish to call. She chooses from a few of the same Nokia phones based on the area code, and dials for you. Once it rings, she hands it over. I know because I did this about 10 times. It's an incredible system for those who don't have a mobile phone in SE Asia (for example, me).
Utilizing this nearly flawless system, I called Kris Warner, a contact who works at an orphanage in Phnom Penh. Kris used to go to City Church when he lived in San Francisco, and now he runs the Vocational and Educational Program at a Foursquare Church sponsored orphanage- teaching English and overseeing the orphanage sewing shop. Kris agreed to come pick us up and show us the orphanage- which made us very excited.
THE ADVENTURE THAT IS THE PHNOM PENH STREET MARKET
Until Kris arrived, Katie and I toured the streets of Phnom Penh- most notably, picking up lunch in the street market. I was thoroughly impressed with Katie's bravery in even touching, let alone eating, the food they had on display. I mean, I'll eat pretty much anything (I had a professional career and would regularly dine on microwavable Chef Boyardee Meat Ravioli in a can), and even I was nervous. We grabbed the most edible-looking food: 2 baggies of white rice, some unidentifiable type of fried fish, and a few small cooked sausages.
DOG SAUSAGES
Not that any of the food looked great, but each item tasted much worse than it looked. Katie attempted to force the sausage down, but it's tough to eat anything that looks and taste more and more like dog the more time it's around. I got through one, and that was enough. My "fish" was, apparently, not meant to be eaten by human beings. So... in the end, we ate some white rice. And a fresh carrot each.
At this point, Kris joined our delightful traditional Camodianmeal. We greeted eachother, and immediately asked Kris what the sausages were made of. He assured us it was pork, but also noted he was "very impressed" that we were courageous enough to eat from the market. "What does that mean?" we inquired. "Just that most people wouldn't think about eating food from the street here. I'm glad to see you're adventurous", Kris responded.
KILLING FIELDS
We hopped into Kris's car and were off. Our first stop was the Killing Fields- the main site where Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge regime attempted to wipe out an entire generation of Cambodians in the late 1970's. Sobering. They have stacks and stacks of human skulls on display. 2 million people killed. The depth of evil that human beings are capable of attaining was tangible. Apart from God, we are all lost and broken- this truth was never more clear to me than when we walked the grounds.
After the devastating reality of the Killing Fields, we were fortunate enough to visit the orphanage. Let me start by saying that it is incredible to see so stark a contrast. On the one hand, the Killing Fields: a place of unspeakable evil, destruction of life, even spiritually demonic. A few miles down the road exists a Christian-run orphanage housing 100 kids focused on bringing healing, ushering in hope, binding people together in love. It is absolutely no joke- a striking example of God's Kingdom being built up on this earth. In fact, I would go so far as to say that there is a reason the main campus of the Foursquare Orphanages is located a few miles from these killing fields. God is showcasing how He can do a good and wonderful work out of even the dimmest of situations. Needless to say, it was powerful.
FOUR SQUARE CHILDREN OF PROMISE ORPHANAGE
We toured the orphanage. The have a brand new 2-level medical clinic building: complete with a table and a dentist's office (one of the older children is now in Dental School and peforms checkups for the kids). There is a sewing room that Kris oversees, where 4 girls and a mentor were making cloth handbags. The designs were incredible! So incredible in fact, that Katie and I each bought one on the spot. Lucky for me, the girl who had made my one-of-a-kind awesome new designer handbag was there, so I was able to get a picture with her. She was a total celebrity in my eyes.
The orphanage also boasts a computer lab for teaching kids computer skills (they had a class for Adobe Illustrator that I would love to take), a full kitchen and dining area, a church, a library, classrooms, and even a machine shop where the kids learn how to fix broken tractors. This functions on multiple levels: a service to the local farming community, an income generator, and valuable job skills training for the children. They are also almost finished with new dorms for girls who work in local factories and don't have housing.
Basically, this place is awesome. And from this main campus they have planted 139 other homes over the last 10 years for children all over the country. Kris introduced us to some of his students, and we got to talk with some of them for a while. Throughout the entire visit, Katie and I were both visibly pumped for what God is doing there.
BOAT NOODLE?
After the tour, we hopped into Kris's car to go to out for dinner. Kris took us to an awesome place with an even more awesome name that we never would have found on our own: Boat Noodle. I'm still unclear as to what a "boat noodle" is, and even after living there for 2 years, so was Kris. But it didn't matter. The food was superb. Traditional Khmer dishes + fresh fruit platters + vegetable egg rolls + a few "Angkor" beers + great conversation for 3 hours = A highlight of my entire Cambodian experience.
It was so good to hear the whole process that brought Kris to Cambodia- his passion for teaching, his love of travel and living abroad, and his faith in God. All of these combined to bring him to this place- and he is clearly being used and stretched. It was refreshing to hear about God's preparation of Kris through his previous travels around the world, building up to this call to be in Cambodia.
We finished with our "Boat Noodle" and called it a night- sleeping with full and happy stomachs.
Waking up in Cambodia for the first time is a new experience. All over the place they have these little booths that resemble a phone booth, except there is always a middle-aged Cambodian woman sitting in a plastic chair in front, texting on her mobile phone. You approach her, slowly, and tell her the area code you wish to call. She chooses from a few of the same Nokia phones based on the area code, and dials for you. Once it rings, she hands it over. I know because I did this about 10 times. It's an incredible system for those who don't have a mobile phone in SE Asia (for example, me).
Utilizing this nearly flawless system, I called Kris Warner, a contact who works at an orphanage in Phnom Penh. Kris used to go to City Church when he lived in San Francisco, and now he runs the Vocational and Educational Program at a Foursquare Church sponsored orphanage- teaching English and overseeing the orphanage sewing shop. Kris agreed to come pick us up and show us the orphanage- which made us very excited.
THE ADVENTURE THAT IS THE PHNOM PENH STREET MARKET
Until Kris arrived, Katie and I toured the streets of Phnom Penh- most notably, picking up lunch in the street market. I was thoroughly impressed with Katie's bravery in even touching, let alone eating, the food they had on display. I mean, I'll eat pretty much anything (I had a professional career and would regularly dine on microwavable Chef Boyardee Meat Ravioli in a can), and even I was nervous. We grabbed the most edible-looking food: 2 baggies of white rice, some unidentifiable type of fried fish, and a few small cooked sausages.
DOG SAUSAGES
Not that any of the food looked great, but each item tasted much worse than it looked. Katie attempted to force the sausage down, but it's tough to eat anything that looks and taste more and more like dog the more time it's around. I got through one, and that was enough. My "fish" was, apparently, not meant to be eaten by human beings. So... in the end, we ate some white rice. And a fresh carrot each.
At this point, Kris joined our delightful traditional Camodianmeal. We greeted eachother, and immediately asked Kris what the sausages were made of. He assured us it was pork, but also noted he was "very impressed" that we were courageous enough to eat from the market. "What does that mean?" we inquired. "Just that most people wouldn't think about eating food from the street here. I'm glad to see you're adventurous", Kris responded.
KILLING FIELDS
We hopped into Kris's car and were off. Our first stop was the Killing Fields- the main site where Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge regime attempted to wipe out an entire generation of Cambodians in the late 1970's. Sobering. They have stacks and stacks of human skulls on display. 2 million people killed. The depth of evil that human beings are capable of attaining was tangible. Apart from God, we are all lost and broken- this truth was never more clear to me than when we walked the grounds.
After the devastating reality of the Killing Fields, we were fortunate enough to visit the orphanage. Let me start by saying that it is incredible to see so stark a contrast. On the one hand, the Killing Fields: a place of unspeakable evil, destruction of life, even spiritually demonic. A few miles down the road exists a Christian-run orphanage housing 100 kids focused on bringing healing, ushering in hope, binding people together in love. It is absolutely no joke- a striking example of God's Kingdom being built up on this earth. In fact, I would go so far as to say that there is a reason the main campus of the Foursquare Orphanages is located a few miles from these killing fields. God is showcasing how He can do a good and wonderful work out of even the dimmest of situations. Needless to say, it was powerful.
FOUR SQUARE CHILDREN OF PROMISE ORPHANAGE
We toured the orphanage. The have a brand new 2-level medical clinic building: complete with a table and a dentist's office (one of the older children is now in Dental School and peforms checkups for the kids). There is a sewing room that Kris oversees, where 4 girls and a mentor were making cloth handbags. The designs were incredible! So incredible in fact, that Katie and I each bought one on the spot. Lucky for me, the girl who had made my one-of-a-kind awesome new designer handbag was there, so I was able to get a picture with her. She was a total celebrity in my eyes.
The orphanage also boasts a computer lab for teaching kids computer skills (they had a class for Adobe Illustrator that I would love to take), a full kitchen and dining area, a church, a library, classrooms, and even a machine shop where the kids learn how to fix broken tractors. This functions on multiple levels: a service to the local farming community, an income generator, and valuable job skills training for the children. They are also almost finished with new dorms for girls who work in local factories and don't have housing.
Basically, this place is awesome. And from this main campus they have planted 139 other homes over the last 10 years for children all over the country. Kris introduced us to some of his students, and we got to talk with some of them for a while. Throughout the entire visit, Katie and I were both visibly pumped for what God is doing there.
BOAT NOODLE?
After the tour, we hopped into Kris's car to go to out for dinner. Kris took us to an awesome place with an even more awesome name that we never would have found on our own: Boat Noodle. I'm still unclear as to what a "boat noodle" is, and even after living there for 2 years, so was Kris. But it didn't matter. The food was superb. Traditional Khmer dishes + fresh fruit platters + vegetable egg rolls + a few "Angkor" beers + great conversation for 3 hours = A highlight of my entire Cambodian experience.
It was so good to hear the whole process that brought Kris to Cambodia- his passion for teaching, his love of travel and living abroad, and his faith in God. All of these combined to bring him to this place- and he is clearly being used and stretched. It was refreshing to hear about God's preparation of Kris through his previous travels around the world, building up to this call to be in Cambodia.
We finished with our "Boat Noodle" and called it a night- sleeping with full and happy stomachs.
Monday, June 22, 2009
MEKONG BOAT TOUR: HCM TO PHNOM PENH.
In an effort to get even remotely caught up with where I currently am (Jaipur, India), I will be attempting to make my posts more succinct, and focused- without losing the heart and the vision of "Matthew Heads East". I'm sure most readers (besides my mother) will be excited to hear this news... as my writing has, thus far, dragged on and on.
Thanks.
-Matt
DAY 1: BOAT? BUS? WHATEVER. IT'S A TOUR.
I awoke in my $8 top floor penthouse suite (complete with an unattached bathroom, and free humidity) early the next morning. I had to get to the infamous Mekong Delta Boat Tour that promised to take me on a 2 day relaxing journey along the Mekong river, terminating at my destination, Phnom Pehn Cambodia. "Perfect", I mused.
The bus (not boat) left at 7:30am, and after swiftly walking with my bags, I boarded the bus. We began to take off. We stopped after 1/2 block- boarding more people. That's when it hit me- like a ton of bricks.
I HEAR PASSPORTS ARE IMPORTANT
"MY PASSPORT!", I yelled. I ran off the bus and down the already busy street as fast as my legs could carry me. I arrived, out of breath, at the swanky hotel, and the lasy behind the counter was already apologizing and holding my passport. I grabbed it from her, thanked her, and ran lightning speed back to the bus- which I had little confidence was actually still there. Thank GOD, it was there. I boarded, sweating profusely, sat down, and we were off.
I then broke the ice by making a joke, "Everyone got their passports?" Few people laughed. Maybe 3. But that was enough. The rest were probably either asleep or didn't speak english. Yeah... that's it.
MEKONG DELTA
We arrived, amidst crippling traffic, at the Mekong Delta and boarded the boat. The rest of the day consisted of visiting a number of "river businesses"- houses on stilts lining the Mekong, making and selling a variety of items: chips, candies, scarves, and other things that tourists enjoy buying when they the process of them being made. It was actually very delightful and interesting.
We transferred boats and continued on the river through an area of the lush tropical trees and greenery flanking each side, creating a narrow river passage straight out of "Apocalypse Now". It was incredible. An absolute highlight of the trip. The green palm trees bending toward the boat combined with the brown dirtiness of the river made for a stunningly vibrant sensory experience.
FRIENDS ARE GOOD
Thankfully, I made some new friends on the boat trip, as we sat on the back deck, soaking up the sun and vistas. John, Stewart, and Kirsty, all from England. We discussed different travel stories- apparently Stewart and Kirsty had gotten married in Laos withour their knowledge. Some tribal elder performed a ceremony which they believed was for a different couple, but was really for them. That's awesome.
We arrived at the 2-level hotel set on the river. It was incredible- huge top deck patio restaurant/bar where we ate and drank and were merry. Stewart, John and I stayed up on the deck talking for hours. A bloody good time.
DAY 2
The next morning we awoke and I realized that the entire river surface below our room was covered in beautiful river lilies, fading into a network of stilts supporting the houses above. Wonderful way to wake up.
Then we were off, to tour more local river businesses, where we were immediately barraged by a wild pack of incredibly cute children asking for "food". Which apparently in Vietamese translates to "money", because when offered food, they refused it. But that doesn't mean that I didn't think about adopting a few of them. Cuz it definitely crossed my mind.
CAMBODIA: THE START OF SOMETHING NEW
Eventually, we arrived at the Cambodian border, and entered a border restaurant while waiting to receive our Cambodian Visas. No one was certain that we would really get them... after all, we were going into Cambodia, but after an hour our guide emerged with 20 visas. And he only took an "unspoken service charge" of $2 for each visa. Not bad.
We hopped on the next boat, and immediately the landscape changed to pastoralist, agricultural land- complete with Cambodian cows and natives working on their farms. Beautiful to see. After an hour we docked, and transferred yet again- this time to a mini-bus. And when I say mini-bus, I mean we crammed 14 people plus bags into a van meant to hold 8. On a good day.
As we drove, the tour guide said "Hello" in about 700 languages. Impressive. Then he tried to sell us on his tours and hotels. We arrived in central Phnom Pehn, and parted ways with my new friends.
MR. LIM: TUK TUK DRIVER
It was at this juncture I met him: Mr. Lim: Tuk Tuk Driver. Mr. Lim is a true Renaissance Man- enlighted in the arts, rhetoric, an advocate for social reforms (he went off on "Stupid Government" at least 12 times), and of course, a self-made man. He also happened to be a delight. I hopped into his tuk tuk- a chariot/shrine with 2 bench seats hitched to the back of a bike. With a 1 gallon tank and a top speed approaching 20 mph, this hog covers some mean Cambodian territory.
Mr. Lim toured me around Phnom Pehn, while we had good conversation. We visited the lake, which "stupid government" had filled in with sand, leaving little water. We drove by some federal buildings, where "stupid government" resides. Eventually we found a hotel (endorsed by "stupid government"), Hotel Angkor International- complete with gold-painted statues adorning the entire first floor. Turning to Mr. Lim:Tuk Tuk Driver, I remarked, "This place has character- I like it." I checked in.
TRAVEL PARTNER!
After a few hours of chilling and writing email, Mr. Lim: Tuk Tuk Driver picked me up and we drove the 20 km to the airport to pick up the lovely Ms. Katie Martin. Around 10:30pm Katie landed and proceeded out of baggage claim to where I met her with open arms. SO good to see her. As much as I had enjoyed eating meals alone and talking (and laughing) to myself for the last 8 days, it was a relief to have a companion. Mr. Lim: Tuk Tuk Driver circled around to pick us up, I introduced he and Katie, and we boarded our chariot bound for glory.
SO good to converse with Katie about the past 8 days- both my crazy adventures and her wonderful time as high school girl's counselor on a church boat trip. Thank you GOD!
Thanks.
-Matt
DAY 1: BOAT? BUS? WHATEVER. IT'S A TOUR.
I awoke in my $8 top floor penthouse suite (complete with an unattached bathroom, and free humidity) early the next morning. I had to get to the infamous Mekong Delta Boat Tour that promised to take me on a 2 day relaxing journey along the Mekong river, terminating at my destination, Phnom Pehn Cambodia. "Perfect", I mused.
The bus (not boat) left at 7:30am, and after swiftly walking with my bags, I boarded the bus. We began to take off. We stopped after 1/2 block- boarding more people. That's when it hit me- like a ton of bricks.
I HEAR PASSPORTS ARE IMPORTANT
"MY PASSPORT!", I yelled. I ran off the bus and down the already busy street as fast as my legs could carry me. I arrived, out of breath, at the swanky hotel, and the lasy behind the counter was already apologizing and holding my passport. I grabbed it from her, thanked her, and ran lightning speed back to the bus- which I had little confidence was actually still there. Thank GOD, it was there. I boarded, sweating profusely, sat down, and we were off.
I then broke the ice by making a joke, "Everyone got their passports?" Few people laughed. Maybe 3. But that was enough. The rest were probably either asleep or didn't speak english. Yeah... that's it.
MEKONG DELTA
We arrived, amidst crippling traffic, at the Mekong Delta and boarded the boat. The rest of the day consisted of visiting a number of "river businesses"- houses on stilts lining the Mekong, making and selling a variety of items: chips, candies, scarves, and other things that tourists enjoy buying when they the process of them being made. It was actually very delightful and interesting.
We transferred boats and continued on the river through an area of the lush tropical trees and greenery flanking each side, creating a narrow river passage straight out of "Apocalypse Now". It was incredible. An absolute highlight of the trip. The green palm trees bending toward the boat combined with the brown dirtiness of the river made for a stunningly vibrant sensory experience.
FRIENDS ARE GOOD
Thankfully, I made some new friends on the boat trip, as we sat on the back deck, soaking up the sun and vistas. John, Stewart, and Kirsty, all from England. We discussed different travel stories- apparently Stewart and Kirsty had gotten married in Laos withour their knowledge. Some tribal elder performed a ceremony which they believed was for a different couple, but was really for them. That's awesome.
We arrived at the 2-level hotel set on the river. It was incredible- huge top deck patio restaurant/bar where we ate and drank and were merry. Stewart, John and I stayed up on the deck talking for hours. A bloody good time.
DAY 2
The next morning we awoke and I realized that the entire river surface below our room was covered in beautiful river lilies, fading into a network of stilts supporting the houses above. Wonderful way to wake up.
Then we were off, to tour more local river businesses, where we were immediately barraged by a wild pack of incredibly cute children asking for "food". Which apparently in Vietamese translates to "money", because when offered food, they refused it. But that doesn't mean that I didn't think about adopting a few of them. Cuz it definitely crossed my mind.
CAMBODIA: THE START OF SOMETHING NEW
Eventually, we arrived at the Cambodian border, and entered a border restaurant while waiting to receive our Cambodian Visas. No one was certain that we would really get them... after all, we were going into Cambodia, but after an hour our guide emerged with 20 visas. And he only took an "unspoken service charge" of $2 for each visa. Not bad.
We hopped on the next boat, and immediately the landscape changed to pastoralist, agricultural land- complete with Cambodian cows and natives working on their farms. Beautiful to see. After an hour we docked, and transferred yet again- this time to a mini-bus. And when I say mini-bus, I mean we crammed 14 people plus bags into a van meant to hold 8. On a good day.
As we drove, the tour guide said "Hello" in about 700 languages. Impressive. Then he tried to sell us on his tours and hotels. We arrived in central Phnom Pehn, and parted ways with my new friends.
MR. LIM: TUK TUK DRIVER
It was at this juncture I met him: Mr. Lim: Tuk Tuk Driver. Mr. Lim is a true Renaissance Man- enlighted in the arts, rhetoric, an advocate for social reforms (he went off on "Stupid Government" at least 12 times), and of course, a self-made man. He also happened to be a delight. I hopped into his tuk tuk- a chariot/shrine with 2 bench seats hitched to the back of a bike. With a 1 gallon tank and a top speed approaching 20 mph, this hog covers some mean Cambodian territory.
Mr. Lim toured me around Phnom Pehn, while we had good conversation. We visited the lake, which "stupid government" had filled in with sand, leaving little water. We drove by some federal buildings, where "stupid government" resides. Eventually we found a hotel (endorsed by "stupid government"), Hotel Angkor International- complete with gold-painted statues adorning the entire first floor. Turning to Mr. Lim:Tuk Tuk Driver, I remarked, "This place has character- I like it." I checked in.
TRAVEL PARTNER!
After a few hours of chilling and writing email, Mr. Lim: Tuk Tuk Driver picked me up and we drove the 20 km to the airport to pick up the lovely Ms. Katie Martin. Around 10:30pm Katie landed and proceeded out of baggage claim to where I met her with open arms. SO good to see her. As much as I had enjoyed eating meals alone and talking (and laughing) to myself for the last 8 days, it was a relief to have a companion. Mr. Lim: Tuk Tuk Driver circled around to pick us up, I introduced he and Katie, and we boarded our chariot bound for glory.
SO good to converse with Katie about the past 8 days- both my crazy adventures and her wonderful time as high school girl's counselor on a church boat trip. Thank you GOD!
Sunday, June 21, 2009
DA LAT BACK TO THE HCM, BABY BABY!
GOOD MORNING, VIETNAM!
I awoke the next morning and peeled off my itchy plastic/styrofoam floral printed sheets (singular) to greet the day. I hopped into the bathroom shower, steadied myself against the nearby toilet & turned the strange shower motor contraption all the way to HOT. The space-age looking and stone-age functioning apparatus had a better idea. "How about this", it mocked "let's make a deal. I'll give you freezing cold water imported direct from the Arctic circle and you can just stand there turning my myriad of purposeless knob, questioning where the hot water reservoir could be, until you give up and stand there shivering and accept that you've booked an $8 hotel room." Defeated, I agreed.
As much as I wanted to hang out in my hotel room, it was time for me to do some of my own adventurin' around Da Lat. I wandered the streets amidst glances, stares, and the occasional Vietnamese shout out- apparently a 6'-4" tall lanky white guy gets alot of attention in Vietnam- actually, based on my travel experience, make that anywhere besides Western Europe. But especially in Da Lat.
CENTRAL MARKET: DELICACIES ABOUND
This white boy wandered his way to the central market, the more "local" or "ghetto" of the two markets. Descending the staircase into the market, I was immediately greeted with various large steel bowls holding nearly every Vietnamese delicacy: live toads, mounds of water snakes, thick eels, huge slimy catfish, and of course, Vietnamese dog- skinned and broiled. As a good American, I of course did my democratic duty by purchasing one of each of these animals, took them down to the lake, and set them free as a "freedom ritual". Each animal thanked me and happily swam off- except the dog- he just sank.
I continued through the market and found some great fresh apple-pear tasting fruits. I didn't ask, I just ate. And they were good. Real good. I left the market to book my bus back to Ho Chi Min, leaving Da Lat at 2pm, so that I could get back in time to go clubbin' up in da HCM. No- not by myslef- as if I desired a repeat of my CLUB RAIN experience- because I had met a kid named Ahn who worked at a restaurant in HCM who said a group of his friends were going out dancing on Saturday night at the "best clubs in the city", and that I could crash at his place for the night for free. At least that's what I was led to believe. So I hopped on the bus and got awesome time to read, write, and pray- all amidst frequent & sporadic horn-blowing from the bus driver.
Good news about not having anyone to talk with- you get time. It was incredible- I got to pray all the way through the alphabet for different people by first letter of first name. This method works out well for people with names with less common letter- let's just say Ingrid and Zald have gotten alot of prayers.
AHN: NOT WHAT I EXPECTED
I arrived back in Ho Chi Min and met Anh at his restaurant. Then he took me to find a hotel for myself- ok, not what I was thinking, but that's cool. After I checked in to literally the worst hotel I had been in yet, we were off. Off to some club that definitely really wanted to be uber swanky. Kind of like CLUB RAIN, but not as crappy. They definitely had the fruit platters. This is when things got strange.
Ahn took us to the bar, inquired about the price of a bottle of Jack Daniel's- 1 million dong ($57 U.S.). I told him I didn't want a half bottle of Jack Daniels. So Ahn proceeded to order 2 beers for us, and then looked me to pay. Reluctantly I did.
I kept asking Ahn where his friends were- he kept telling me that his friends would meet us soon. They never came. Ahn also kept telling me that I was "handsome man". I didn't think it possible, but he situation was actually getting weirder. After some awkward amount of time, Ahn informed me that it was time to leave. We went on our way- apparently to another club. But first we had to stop at his restaurant. I told him I was going to another bar. That's when I made my get-away. Luckily, I escaped and made it to my hotel room- alone. Thank God!
I awoke the next morning and peeled off my itchy plastic/styrofoam floral printed sheets (singular) to greet the day. I hopped into the bathroom shower, steadied myself against the nearby toilet & turned the strange shower motor contraption all the way to HOT. The space-age looking and stone-age functioning apparatus had a better idea. "How about this", it mocked "let's make a deal. I'll give you freezing cold water imported direct from the Arctic circle and you can just stand there turning my myriad of purposeless knob, questioning where the hot water reservoir could be, until you give up and stand there shivering and accept that you've booked an $8 hotel room." Defeated, I agreed.
As much as I wanted to hang out in my hotel room, it was time for me to do some of my own adventurin' around Da Lat. I wandered the streets amidst glances, stares, and the occasional Vietnamese shout out- apparently a 6'-4" tall lanky white guy gets alot of attention in Vietnam- actually, based on my travel experience, make that anywhere besides Western Europe. But especially in Da Lat.
CENTRAL MARKET: DELICACIES ABOUND
This white boy wandered his way to the central market, the more "local" or "ghetto" of the two markets. Descending the staircase into the market, I was immediately greeted with various large steel bowls holding nearly every Vietnamese delicacy: live toads, mounds of water snakes, thick eels, huge slimy catfish, and of course, Vietnamese dog- skinned and broiled. As a good American, I of course did my democratic duty by purchasing one of each of these animals, took them down to the lake, and set them free as a "freedom ritual". Each animal thanked me and happily swam off- except the dog- he just sank.
I continued through the market and found some great fresh apple-pear tasting fruits. I didn't ask, I just ate. And they were good. Real good. I left the market to book my bus back to Ho Chi Min, leaving Da Lat at 2pm, so that I could get back in time to go clubbin' up in da HCM. No- not by myslef- as if I desired a repeat of my CLUB RAIN experience- because I had met a kid named Ahn who worked at a restaurant in HCM who said a group of his friends were going out dancing on Saturday night at the "best clubs in the city", and that I could crash at his place for the night for free. At least that's what I was led to believe. So I hopped on the bus and got awesome time to read, write, and pray- all amidst frequent & sporadic horn-blowing from the bus driver.
Good news about not having anyone to talk with- you get time. It was incredible- I got to pray all the way through the alphabet for different people by first letter of first name. This method works out well for people with names with less common letter- let's just say Ingrid and Zald have gotten alot of prayers.
AHN: NOT WHAT I EXPECTED
I arrived back in Ho Chi Min and met Anh at his restaurant. Then he took me to find a hotel for myself- ok, not what I was thinking, but that's cool. After I checked in to literally the worst hotel I had been in yet, we were off. Off to some club that definitely really wanted to be uber swanky. Kind of like CLUB RAIN, but not as crappy. They definitely had the fruit platters. This is when things got strange.
Ahn took us to the bar, inquired about the price of a bottle of Jack Daniel's- 1 million dong ($57 U.S.). I told him I didn't want a half bottle of Jack Daniels. So Ahn proceeded to order 2 beers for us, and then looked me to pay. Reluctantly I did.
I kept asking Ahn where his friends were- he kept telling me that his friends would meet us soon. They never came. Ahn also kept telling me that I was "handsome man". I didn't think it possible, but he situation was actually getting weirder. After some awkward amount of time, Ahn informed me that it was time to leave. We went on our way- apparently to another club. But first we had to stop at his restaurant. I told him I was going to another bar. That's when I made my get-away. Luckily, I escaped and made it to my hotel room- alone. Thank God!
Friday, June 19, 2009
DA LAT: WHERE VIETNAM COMES TO "KICK IT"
Turns out I was the only white person in this beautiful French-influenced town this weekend. Which made for celebrity status.
DOWNGRADE THE PRICE, UPGRADE THE SURPRISE!
I awoke the next morning with little idea of what I would do. I decided to leave the ritzy $14/night hotel room I was in and venture into the mysterious land of the $8/night hotel room. This mysterious land brought with it pleasant surprises: pre-opened & used hotel bar soap (because opening it yourself is wasted effort), cheap see-through glass for one entire wall...to the outside, and a shower that is not only deviod of anything resembling warm water, but which also allows you to sit on the toilet while rinsing.
DUNG: NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING
The most pleasant surprise, however, came in the form of a man called Dung. No, not that kind of dung. It's pronounced "Yoong". But either way, it looks pretty funny on a business card. Dung is a Da Lat native, and is pretty much the best motorcycling tour guide in the greater Saigon area. Which is saying something. After Dung showed me a hand-written book of various people's praises for his guide skills (the Vietnamese version of Yelp!) I was ready to do it. Which meant hopping on the back of his motorcycle for the next 7 hours. And boy was it a ride!
Dung and I drove down into the valley below the town, showcasing a mix of lush tropical and more temperate environments. It was absolutely beautiful. Apparently, Da Lat is where Vietnam comes to kick it- and now I know why. The more reasonable temperatures, mountains, and rural countryside make it the "Santa Barbara" of Vietnam... if Santa Barbara's mean home price was closer to 15,000 bucks instead of 1.2 million.
Dung and I toured a silk-making factory, a flower farm, and a rice wine manufacturer. Very interesting. Dung took me to a gorgeous waterfall with a Buddhist shrine above it. We ate lunch together and talked about manly stuff... like history. After taking in the wonderful views and rich culture of the area, Dung and I motoed back up the mountain to Da Lat. At this point (4pm) we were going to part ways. But Dung and I had bonded so much... I couldn't let him go that easily. So I booked my next tour with him right then- starting right then. And once agian, we were off.
TALL LANKY WHITE BOY = AMERICAN MOVIE STAR
Dung drove me up to a lookout point with a view of the entire city. And as I was taking in, I was yelled at by a Vietnamese man who wanted me to come over there. "Picture!" he excalimed. Not wanting to disappoint, I walked over to find a line of 20 men and women with cameras, and a middle-aged Vietnamese woman standing in front, waiting for me to join her for this "Photo Opportunity With A Real American Celebrity". I think they thought I was from "the O.C." Either way, I put my arm around her, and cameras flickered. Then, another woman ran up to get her picture taken as well. I embraced her, as once again cameras went off. I also sent Dung into the camera barracade to get some shots of this famous moment in time.
Afterwards, we motoed up to an incredible Buddhist shrine, overlooking a picturesque lake with a forrested island in the middle and limestone-faced mountains in the background. And apparently this is where all of Vietnam was at this very moment. Cuz it was crowded. I mean, ASIAN amounts of crowded. And then, the planets aligned.
HELLA VIETNAMESE
Dung was informing me of different American colloquialisms that he had heard, like how Americans say "dope" to mean "cool". I confirmed that this was true. "In fact," I said, "it's dope to say 'dope'". Then, I when Dung commented on how many swarms of people were walking around, I took the opportunity to share with Dung some real-life Nor-Cal talk. "Dung", I said, "in California, when we want to say there is 'alot' of something, we use the word 'hella'. It's like combining the words 'hell' and 'of'. So, today we could say, 'there's hella people here today."' Dung really enjoyed this new-found knowledge. So much so that a few minutes later, as we were leaving, he turned to me and whispered, "There is the heller of the peoples here". Just like that. It was cute. I was proud.
VIETNAMESE ROLLER COASTERS: TAKING THE "THRILL" OUT OF "THRILL RIDE"
From here, we ventured to this incredible "roller coaster" ride, which was essentially a single-man cart on a track that curves down a hill. I hopped on and rode down- what a blast. Especially with the little kids in front being too scared to go fast, so the whole line got backed up and I found myself barely moving the entire time. But still- it was fun. Then I found a Vietnamese "cowboy" with a saddled horse for photo-ops. This made for some quality pictures when the man handed me two fake revolvers and a red cowboy hat and I saddled up.
After this, my time with Dung was finished. We parted ways, and he told me to add him on facebook. I'll do that soon. It's probably not exceedingly difficult to find his name in the search engine... not many "Dungs" floating around.
CLUB RAIN: NOT THAT COOL
That night I toured the main market, grabbed dinner, and hopped in a cab. "Take me somewhere kind of relzxed, with dancing, please." Club RAIN is where I was dropped off. Dancing - check. Strange fruit concoction platters for each table (this is a new one even for me) - check. Face-melting lights synced to bad trendy house electronica - check. Vietnamese people - check. Me - check. Needless to say, after about 5 minutes of Club RAIN, I went out to find the next taxi home.
DOWNGRADE THE PRICE, UPGRADE THE SURPRISE!
I awoke the next morning with little idea of what I would do. I decided to leave the ritzy $14/night hotel room I was in and venture into the mysterious land of the $8/night hotel room. This mysterious land brought with it pleasant surprises: pre-opened & used hotel bar soap (because opening it yourself is wasted effort), cheap see-through glass for one entire wall...to the outside, and a shower that is not only deviod of anything resembling warm water, but which also allows you to sit on the toilet while rinsing.
DUNG: NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING
The most pleasant surprise, however, came in the form of a man called Dung. No, not that kind of dung. It's pronounced "Yoong". But either way, it looks pretty funny on a business card. Dung is a Da Lat native, and is pretty much the best motorcycling tour guide in the greater Saigon area. Which is saying something. After Dung showed me a hand-written book of various people's praises for his guide skills (the Vietnamese version of Yelp!) I was ready to do it. Which meant hopping on the back of his motorcycle for the next 7 hours. And boy was it a ride!
Dung and I drove down into the valley below the town, showcasing a mix of lush tropical and more temperate environments. It was absolutely beautiful. Apparently, Da Lat is where Vietnam comes to kick it- and now I know why. The more reasonable temperatures, mountains, and rural countryside make it the "Santa Barbara" of Vietnam... if Santa Barbara's mean home price was closer to 15,000 bucks instead of 1.2 million.
Dung and I toured a silk-making factory, a flower farm, and a rice wine manufacturer. Very interesting. Dung took me to a gorgeous waterfall with a Buddhist shrine above it. We ate lunch together and talked about manly stuff... like history. After taking in the wonderful views and rich culture of the area, Dung and I motoed back up the mountain to Da Lat. At this point (4pm) we were going to part ways. But Dung and I had bonded so much... I couldn't let him go that easily. So I booked my next tour with him right then- starting right then. And once agian, we were off.
TALL LANKY WHITE BOY = AMERICAN MOVIE STAR
Dung drove me up to a lookout point with a view of the entire city. And as I was taking in, I was yelled at by a Vietnamese man who wanted me to come over there. "Picture!" he excalimed. Not wanting to disappoint, I walked over to find a line of 20 men and women with cameras, and a middle-aged Vietnamese woman standing in front, waiting for me to join her for this "Photo Opportunity With A Real American Celebrity". I think they thought I was from "the O.C." Either way, I put my arm around her, and cameras flickered. Then, another woman ran up to get her picture taken as well. I embraced her, as once again cameras went off. I also sent Dung into the camera barracade to get some shots of this famous moment in time.
Afterwards, we motoed up to an incredible Buddhist shrine, overlooking a picturesque lake with a forrested island in the middle and limestone-faced mountains in the background. And apparently this is where all of Vietnam was at this very moment. Cuz it was crowded. I mean, ASIAN amounts of crowded. And then, the planets aligned.
HELLA VIETNAMESE
Dung was informing me of different American colloquialisms that he had heard, like how Americans say "dope" to mean "cool". I confirmed that this was true. "In fact," I said, "it's dope to say 'dope'". Then, I when Dung commented on how many swarms of people were walking around, I took the opportunity to share with Dung some real-life Nor-Cal talk. "Dung", I said, "in California, when we want to say there is 'alot' of something, we use the word 'hella'. It's like combining the words 'hell' and 'of'. So, today we could say, 'there's hella people here today."' Dung really enjoyed this new-found knowledge. So much so that a few minutes later, as we were leaving, he turned to me and whispered, "There is the heller of the peoples here". Just like that. It was cute. I was proud.
VIETNAMESE ROLLER COASTERS: TAKING THE "THRILL" OUT OF "THRILL RIDE"
From here, we ventured to this incredible "roller coaster" ride, which was essentially a single-man cart on a track that curves down a hill. I hopped on and rode down- what a blast. Especially with the little kids in front being too scared to go fast, so the whole line got backed up and I found myself barely moving the entire time. But still- it was fun. Then I found a Vietnamese "cowboy" with a saddled horse for photo-ops. This made for some quality pictures when the man handed me two fake revolvers and a red cowboy hat and I saddled up.
After this, my time with Dung was finished. We parted ways, and he told me to add him on facebook. I'll do that soon. It's probably not exceedingly difficult to find his name in the search engine... not many "Dungs" floating around.
CLUB RAIN: NOT THAT COOL
That night I toured the main market, grabbed dinner, and hopped in a cab. "Take me somewhere kind of relzxed, with dancing, please." Club RAIN is where I was dropped off. Dancing - check. Strange fruit concoction platters for each table (this is a new one even for me) - check. Face-melting lights synced to bad trendy house electronica - check. Vietnamese people - check. Me - check. Needless to say, after about 5 minutes of Club RAIN, I went out to find the next taxi home.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
HO CHI MIN CITY
Ya know... that place that you probably thought was named "Saigon" from that musical... well it's not anymore.
MOTORBIKES MOTORBIKES MOTORBIKES!
I cannot emphasize to you enough how many motorbikes scoot through the bustling streets of this SE Asian metropolis. Awakening from the Metropole Hotel and walking out into the motorbike mayhem of HCM city sent more of a jolt to the senses than shooting 5 espressos while simultaneously jamming a fork into a light socket. A tour guide later informed me that the city boasts 8 million residents... and 4.5 million motorbikes. I think that's a low-ball estimate.
Everyone just literally walks through perpetual traffic. So... I quickly adapted to my environment by clinging next to old Vietnamese women who seemed to have much wisdom in crossing the treacherous intersections. Soon enough I was a pro- and though I remained a bit frightened, I made certain to hide my fear from the old women.
WAR MUSEUM
After a quick tour through the indoor central market (the same t-shirt shop multiplied 50 times), I walked toward the Vietnamese War Memorial Museum. On my way I was greeted by an extremely persistant rickshaw driver named Mun. After telling him I would rather walk many times and in many ways, Mun eventually won my heart. I agreed to travel in his rickshaw- but only to the museum. He replied,"Ok. 6 dollars." I hopped in, and we were off. It was strange being pedaled around in front of the locals- I felt like some rich exploitative American kid feeding off of their people and culture. If only they knew I was an unemployed American kid who would rather do a walking tour! Eventually I relaxed and Mun and I had a great time. He taught me some Vietnamese phrases, and before I knew it we arrived.
The war museum seems more of a Vietnamese propaganda piece than a museum. It is essentially a collection of photos with captions showing all of the atrosities that the "American enemy" inflicted upon the natives. It was so interesting and different to see the opposite side of the story. In fact, the films and displays they show glorify the killing of American soldiers. They gave out medals not for courage or bravery but for how many Americans killed. It was very saddening and difficult to see- for both sides.
I left the museum and toured the city with Mun to visit pagodas and shrines, the Saigon river, and some shops. And then it was 3pm. Mun told me he was tired, and I said that's fine- I will walk around. Then came the time for payment. "You pay me for 5 hours", said Mun. "Uhm, it's only been 4 hours" I replied. "Ok. 4 hours. 24 dollars", he said. "No- you said 6 dollars", I replied. This went on for a while, back and forth. Eventually I agreed to pay him $20. He was NOT happy. I walked away. I'm sad that we parted on a sour note, but I felt cheated by his witholding the fact that our trip together would cost $6 every hour and not $6 total. Mun, if you're out there- I'm sorry for the misunderstanding- but you shouldn't have misled me. If you ever visit San Francisco I will put you on my shoulders and bike you around for free. Promise.
WATER PUPPETS: THE POCAHONTAS ON ICE OF VIETNAM
After walking the city for a while, it was off to the Vietnamese Water Puppet Show. This is like... ALL the rage in Veitnamese family-friendly entertainment. It is for Vietnamese families what "Pocahontas: On Ice" is for American families". Or maybe it's more like the SE Asian version of "Puppeteering 4 Christ". Either way, it's fun for the kids and relief for the parents. And then there was me.
Essentially, they have a stage with a pond of brownish water, and 8 men comandeer different puppets: people, dragons, fish, water tigers; from behind a screen. It is actually very entertaining and quite well done. And the kids LOVE it. Especially the cutest Vietnamese 5-year-old ever, sitting by me, entranced by the show, complete with crooked glasses in front and a rat tail in back.
After the show I hopped on the back of a Vietnamese motorbike for the first time. And my mother would be proud to know that I insisted on a helmet that fit. And then I wore it. The ride was hectic- weaving in and out of clusters of bikes, motorbikes, cars, buses, and rickshaws. But in that moment I knew I was alive. And it was great.
IN DA CLUB: VIETNAM
The driver dropped me off and I went out and met some new friends at a bar just down from my hotel. Most were from England, some Aussies, a Canadian nicknamed Johnny Vegas... pretty typical. Most had been traveling for months already. Made my trip seem like a joke. But I got good suggestions of places to check out- apparently Da Lat, Vietnam is the place to be. It's where Vietnam vacations. We ended up at some dance club bumping all American top-40 mashups. It was definitely far from what I had anticipated from my visit to Vietnam. And yet it felt a bit like home. So I danced.
Eventually, it was 4:30am and I had to leave for Da Lat the next day, so I left the group as they continued amidst the laser lights and "T Pain" remixes. And by 5am it was off to sleep.
THE ROAD TO DA LAT. CONDUCIVE TO PRAYER.
The following morning came quick. But I was ready. I left the hotel in the morning to run some errands, and booked a bus ticket for Da Lat. At 4pm we left the city, and embarked upon one of the closest-to-death rides I've experienced. Basically, the entire 7-hour drive is a 2-lane highway which holds on it tourist buses and transport vehicles speeding at a crazed pace in each direction. This alone would be potentially hazardous, but that's not it. Add in the constant slew of motorbike drivers, cruising at half the speed of the buses, and you begin to see the issue. In order to keep from hitting the lone teenager on a motorbike, the bus drivers on both sides constantly dart into the opposite lane, directly into oncoming traffic. Apparently, the dangerous nature of this situation is remedied by the bus driver incessantly honking his horn at motorbikes and buses in the oncoming lane. In all seriousness, I sat in front, and the bus driver did not stop honking for more than 30 seconds for the entire 7 hour drive. As you can imagine, this breeds an environment that is extremely conducive to reading and sleeping.
I prayed alot on that drive. I prayed for my family, for people at home, for people here in Vietnam. But I prayed earnestly that we wouldn't all die on that bus ride.
God answered my prayers. We arrived in Da Lat safe and sound at 11pm. Thank you God!
After much confusion as to how to get to my hotel, a private bus driver told me to hop into his bus and he would take me to my hotel- he knew where it was. So I got in. And we proceeded to drive LITERALLY 1/2 block. And then he told me to get out. So...apparently I had arrived. I checked in and settled in to garner some rest before the next day.
MOTORBIKES MOTORBIKES MOTORBIKES!
I cannot emphasize to you enough how many motorbikes scoot through the bustling streets of this SE Asian metropolis. Awakening from the Metropole Hotel and walking out into the motorbike mayhem of HCM city sent more of a jolt to the senses than shooting 5 espressos while simultaneously jamming a fork into a light socket. A tour guide later informed me that the city boasts 8 million residents... and 4.5 million motorbikes. I think that's a low-ball estimate.
Everyone just literally walks through perpetual traffic. So... I quickly adapted to my environment by clinging next to old Vietnamese women who seemed to have much wisdom in crossing the treacherous intersections. Soon enough I was a pro- and though I remained a bit frightened, I made certain to hide my fear from the old women.
WAR MUSEUM
After a quick tour through the indoor central market (the same t-shirt shop multiplied 50 times), I walked toward the Vietnamese War Memorial Museum. On my way I was greeted by an extremely persistant rickshaw driver named Mun. After telling him I would rather walk many times and in many ways, Mun eventually won my heart. I agreed to travel in his rickshaw- but only to the museum. He replied,"Ok. 6 dollars." I hopped in, and we were off. It was strange being pedaled around in front of the locals- I felt like some rich exploitative American kid feeding off of their people and culture. If only they knew I was an unemployed American kid who would rather do a walking tour! Eventually I relaxed and Mun and I had a great time. He taught me some Vietnamese phrases, and before I knew it we arrived.
The war museum seems more of a Vietnamese propaganda piece than a museum. It is essentially a collection of photos with captions showing all of the atrosities that the "American enemy" inflicted upon the natives. It was so interesting and different to see the opposite side of the story. In fact, the films and displays they show glorify the killing of American soldiers. They gave out medals not for courage or bravery but for how many Americans killed. It was very saddening and difficult to see- for both sides.
I left the museum and toured the city with Mun to visit pagodas and shrines, the Saigon river, and some shops. And then it was 3pm. Mun told me he was tired, and I said that's fine- I will walk around. Then came the time for payment. "You pay me for 5 hours", said Mun. "Uhm, it's only been 4 hours" I replied. "Ok. 4 hours. 24 dollars", he said. "No- you said 6 dollars", I replied. This went on for a while, back and forth. Eventually I agreed to pay him $20. He was NOT happy. I walked away. I'm sad that we parted on a sour note, but I felt cheated by his witholding the fact that our trip together would cost $6 every hour and not $6 total. Mun, if you're out there- I'm sorry for the misunderstanding- but you shouldn't have misled me. If you ever visit San Francisco I will put you on my shoulders and bike you around for free. Promise.
WATER PUPPETS: THE POCAHONTAS ON ICE OF VIETNAM
After walking the city for a while, it was off to the Vietnamese Water Puppet Show. This is like... ALL the rage in Veitnamese family-friendly entertainment. It is for Vietnamese families what "Pocahontas: On Ice" is for American families". Or maybe it's more like the SE Asian version of "Puppeteering 4 Christ". Either way, it's fun for the kids and relief for the parents. And then there was me.
Essentially, they have a stage with a pond of brownish water, and 8 men comandeer different puppets: people, dragons, fish, water tigers; from behind a screen. It is actually very entertaining and quite well done. And the kids LOVE it. Especially the cutest Vietnamese 5-year-old ever, sitting by me, entranced by the show, complete with crooked glasses in front and a rat tail in back.
After the show I hopped on the back of a Vietnamese motorbike for the first time. And my mother would be proud to know that I insisted on a helmet that fit. And then I wore it. The ride was hectic- weaving in and out of clusters of bikes, motorbikes, cars, buses, and rickshaws. But in that moment I knew I was alive. And it was great.
IN DA CLUB: VIETNAM
The driver dropped me off and I went out and met some new friends at a bar just down from my hotel. Most were from England, some Aussies, a Canadian nicknamed Johnny Vegas... pretty typical. Most had been traveling for months already. Made my trip seem like a joke. But I got good suggestions of places to check out- apparently Da Lat, Vietnam is the place to be. It's where Vietnam vacations. We ended up at some dance club bumping all American top-40 mashups. It was definitely far from what I had anticipated from my visit to Vietnam. And yet it felt a bit like home. So I danced.
Eventually, it was 4:30am and I had to leave for Da Lat the next day, so I left the group as they continued amidst the laser lights and "T Pain" remixes. And by 5am it was off to sleep.
THE ROAD TO DA LAT. CONDUCIVE TO PRAYER.
The following morning came quick. But I was ready. I left the hotel in the morning to run some errands, and booked a bus ticket for Da Lat. At 4pm we left the city, and embarked upon one of the closest-to-death rides I've experienced. Basically, the entire 7-hour drive is a 2-lane highway which holds on it tourist buses and transport vehicles speeding at a crazed pace in each direction. This alone would be potentially hazardous, but that's not it. Add in the constant slew of motorbike drivers, cruising at half the speed of the buses, and you begin to see the issue. In order to keep from hitting the lone teenager on a motorbike, the bus drivers on both sides constantly dart into the opposite lane, directly into oncoming traffic. Apparently, the dangerous nature of this situation is remedied by the bus driver incessantly honking his horn at motorbikes and buses in the oncoming lane. In all seriousness, I sat in front, and the bus driver did not stop honking for more than 30 seconds for the entire 7 hour drive. As you can imagine, this breeds an environment that is extremely conducive to reading and sleeping.
I prayed alot on that drive. I prayed for my family, for people at home, for people here in Vietnam. But I prayed earnestly that we wouldn't all die on that bus ride.
God answered my prayers. We arrived in Da Lat safe and sound at 11pm. Thank you God!
After much confusion as to how to get to my hotel, a private bus driver told me to hop into his bus and he would take me to my hotel- he knew where it was. So I got in. And we proceeded to drive LITERALLY 1/2 block. And then he told me to get out. So...apparently I had arrived. I checked in and settled in to garner some rest before the next day.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Viet-freakin-NAM!
In the wise words of Forrest Gump: "Vietnam- it's this whole other country." Vietnam isn't a whole other country. It's a whole other planet.
ARRIVAL IN HO CHI MIN CITY
My plane left Tokyo and flew 6 hours direct to Ho Chi Min, Vietnam. Talk about culture shock. Believe the hype- it's crazy. I arrived to swarms of taxi drivers offering me a ride to the city. Eventually I found a nice looking man who offered a ride for $13. "$13?", I scoffed. "That's as much as I would pay in San Francisco!" After searching for competitive bids, I realized this was the lowest. So I hopped into his 1982 Mazda hatchback, and after the car wouldn't start and he had his boss open the hood and fiddle around for a while, we were rollin'. Rollin' deep.
Come to find out, this $13 cab ride was 45 minutes long, and probably would have cost closer to $100 in San Francisco. Needless to say, I was happy to pay when we arrived safely.... after nearly hitting at least 15 Vietnamese moped drivers.
We arrived at the Metropole Hotel- an extremely nice and modern hotel (compliments of Wendy Ridenour). I checked in, and after getting settled, it was off to my sleek, modernist bed for some modernist sleep.
ARRIVAL IN HO CHI MIN CITY
My plane left Tokyo and flew 6 hours direct to Ho Chi Min, Vietnam. Talk about culture shock. Believe the hype- it's crazy. I arrived to swarms of taxi drivers offering me a ride to the city. Eventually I found a nice looking man who offered a ride for $13. "$13?", I scoffed. "That's as much as I would pay in San Francisco!" After searching for competitive bids, I realized this was the lowest. So I hopped into his 1982 Mazda hatchback, and after the car wouldn't start and he had his boss open the hood and fiddle around for a while, we were rollin'. Rollin' deep.
Come to find out, this $13 cab ride was 45 minutes long, and probably would have cost closer to $100 in San Francisco. Needless to say, I was happy to pay when we arrived safely.... after nearly hitting at least 15 Vietnamese moped drivers.
We arrived at the Metropole Hotel- an extremely nice and modern hotel (compliments of Wendy Ridenour). I checked in, and after getting settled, it was off to my sleek, modernist bed for some modernist sleep.
Monday, June 15, 2009
TOKYO! (continued)
JAPANESE BREAKFAST PASTA SANDWICHES
In the morning Brandon and I awoke and began our adventures through Tokyo. This began with getting lost in an underground shopping network within a prominent office building, and ended with us buying pasta sandwiches for breakfast. And actually, pasta sandwiches aren't bad. They're not quite pasta burritos, but still...
Pasta sandwiches in hand, we toured the Imperial Palace, a serene area of traditional Shinto buildings amidst Japanese gardens, where the government does governmental stuff. Yeah, it's that good. In fact, Brandon told me that during the Japanese housing boom of the 90's that this area of land in central Tokyo was valued at more than the entire state of California. While I find that hard to believe, it puts things into perspective- things like how nice this place is.
Shi-BOOYA!
From here we caught the train to SHIBUYA! If the name doesn't give it away, this place is hip. Hip to the max. It's the center of everything youth. In the world. Technology, fashion, food...anything that comes out tomorrow is already out of style. The iPHONE? Please. They had that in Shibuya back in 1978. Winding through the streets there is the closest thing to being in an anime film that I've ever experienced.
HARAJUKU: GWEN STEFANI WOULD BE PROUD
From Shibuya we walked through another gigantic public park, culminating in a fantasticly detailed Shinto shrine. Then, on to Harajuku- the artsy district made famous by Gwen Stefani's obsession with the masses of suburban Japanese teenage girls who dress up in costumes all the time and just walk around. It's interesting. Harajuku was actually my favorite district, as it was more livable and walkable than the rest of the city. Many houses and small alleyways in between low-rise buildings. Although the constant masses of girls in costumes could possibly get old...
Our final stop was a walk over to the Prada store, designed by Herzog & DeMeuron. A 5-level stand-alone tower that uses diagonal bracing for the structure, as well as to hold the glass skin. I walked in looking just like what I am- a cheap, unemployed 20-something american- obviously not going to buy a $1,700 messenger bag. But I had to tour the space. And it was beautiful. And I wasn't even asked to leave.
The tour of Tokyo was over. Brandon and I trained back to his hotel, and I grabbed my stuff. By this time I was cutting it close. Little did Matt know how close...
CUTTIN' IT CLOSE IN THE LARGEST METROPOLIS ON EARTH
Brandon and I said our goodbyes and I ran to catch the train for my 6:05pm flight... which I thought was at 6:30pm. As an American, navigating through the Tokyo train/subway/metro system is like being dropped in the middle of the forest and being told to find St. Petersburg. You're lost. Basically, I had to transfer 6 times, getting on multiple different types of trains... I think at one point I was on a hovercraft. Needless to say, this whole process took WAY longer than anticipated, and when I realized that my plane left half hour earlier than expected, I started praying.
I arrived at the busiest airport in Asia, Tokyo Narita, 30 minutes before my flight to Vietnam left. Not good. I ran up 3 flights of stairs, carrying my entire life with me for the next 2 months. After what seemed like 2 hours of running, I reached the check-in desk. The lady told me "You have no time". "Tell me about it", I responded. She called for an agent to rush me through the special security check, and she ran me to the entrance gate. AND.... I MADE IT! Whoo! With time to spare! From now on I'm ALWAYS doing it this way- tour the city for maximum amount of time, and don't wait in security lines. I had my cake and ate it too. Praise the Lord.
My good friend Adam Snell once told me that "God is glorified in you Matt, because you get yourself into situations where only God can save you, and then when He does save you, God gets to display His power." I like that.
In the morning Brandon and I awoke and began our adventures through Tokyo. This began with getting lost in an underground shopping network within a prominent office building, and ended with us buying pasta sandwiches for breakfast. And actually, pasta sandwiches aren't bad. They're not quite pasta burritos, but still...
Pasta sandwiches in hand, we toured the Imperial Palace, a serene area of traditional Shinto buildings amidst Japanese gardens, where the government does governmental stuff. Yeah, it's that good. In fact, Brandon told me that during the Japanese housing boom of the 90's that this area of land in central Tokyo was valued at more than the entire state of California. While I find that hard to believe, it puts things into perspective- things like how nice this place is.
Shi-BOOYA!
From here we caught the train to SHIBUYA! If the name doesn't give it away, this place is hip. Hip to the max. It's the center of everything youth. In the world. Technology, fashion, food...anything that comes out tomorrow is already out of style. The iPHONE? Please. They had that in Shibuya back in 1978. Winding through the streets there is the closest thing to being in an anime film that I've ever experienced.
HARAJUKU: GWEN STEFANI WOULD BE PROUD
From Shibuya we walked through another gigantic public park, culminating in a fantasticly detailed Shinto shrine. Then, on to Harajuku- the artsy district made famous by Gwen Stefani's obsession with the masses of suburban Japanese teenage girls who dress up in costumes all the time and just walk around. It's interesting. Harajuku was actually my favorite district, as it was more livable and walkable than the rest of the city. Many houses and small alleyways in between low-rise buildings. Although the constant masses of girls in costumes could possibly get old...
Our final stop was a walk over to the Prada store, designed by Herzog & DeMeuron. A 5-level stand-alone tower that uses diagonal bracing for the structure, as well as to hold the glass skin. I walked in looking just like what I am- a cheap, unemployed 20-something american- obviously not going to buy a $1,700 messenger bag. But I had to tour the space. And it was beautiful. And I wasn't even asked to leave.
The tour of Tokyo was over. Brandon and I trained back to his hotel, and I grabbed my stuff. By this time I was cutting it close. Little did Matt know how close...
CUTTIN' IT CLOSE IN THE LARGEST METROPOLIS ON EARTH
Brandon and I said our goodbyes and I ran to catch the train for my 6:05pm flight... which I thought was at 6:30pm. As an American, navigating through the Tokyo train/subway/metro system is like being dropped in the middle of the forest and being told to find St. Petersburg. You're lost. Basically, I had to transfer 6 times, getting on multiple different types of trains... I think at one point I was on a hovercraft. Needless to say, this whole process took WAY longer than anticipated, and when I realized that my plane left half hour earlier than expected, I started praying.
I arrived at the busiest airport in Asia, Tokyo Narita, 30 minutes before my flight to Vietnam left. Not good. I ran up 3 flights of stairs, carrying my entire life with me for the next 2 months. After what seemed like 2 hours of running, I reached the check-in desk. The lady told me "You have no time". "Tell me about it", I responded. She called for an agent to rush me through the special security check, and she ran me to the entrance gate. AND.... I MADE IT! Whoo! With time to spare! From now on I'm ALWAYS doing it this way- tour the city for maximum amount of time, and don't wait in security lines. I had my cake and ate it too. Praise the Lord.
My good friend Adam Snell once told me that "God is glorified in you Matt, because you get yourself into situations where only God can save you, and then when He does save you, God gets to display His power." I like that.
26 HOURS IN TOKYO.
I flew. And I flew. And I flew. And 13 hours later, I arrived.
Tokyo: a city of high-rises, flashing lights, and a serious obsession with youth culture.
But how did I arrive here? On a plane. And on that plane I just happened to sit next to a 26-year-old Christian guy from Turlock, CA named Brandon. Little did Matt know, but Brandon would end up saving his trip to Tokyo... (read on)
After good conversation with Brandon, some sleep, and a mediocre plane movie, Brandon and I exchanged info. I left for my hotel in Narita (right next to the airport), and he went downtown to meet his dad at their hotel. Well, apparently Narita is 1.5 hours by train outside downtown Tokyo. Who knew? Not me. I was faced with a dilemma: leave the hotel right then (at 9pm) for downtown Tokyo and then wander the streets all night until the trains began running again...OR stay in my hotel that night, get up early and hit Tokyo during the day. I weighed both options. If you know me, you know which path I chose.
A few minutes later, I had purchased a Japanese calling card and called Brandon to see if I should meet him in Tokyo for a little Japanese Karaoke. He informed me that his dad's flight was delayed until the next day, so I could stay in his room. BRILLIANT! (for me...unfortunate for his father).
VERTICAL LIVING!
The 1.5 hour train ride shed some light onto how 35 million people can inhabit a single city- hundreds upon hundreds of the same 35+ story apartment building for miles. No joke.
ROOM UPGRADE
I arrived, dripping wet from walking through a Japanese flash-monsoon, at Brandon's hotel (The Imperial Hotel) in Giza district (financial/retail area). Incredible view of the city from the 22nd floor. By this time it was after 11pm, and Brandon was ready to call it a night. I had some exploring to do.
DISCOVERING GIZA
I meandered through the Tokyo streets in search of food, settling on a Sushi place. When in Rome. The menu had pictures, and so I picked the most adventurous looking thing: the face of a Red Snapper. And it was pretty good- delicate, savory- though a bit too boney.
After this I explored the Giza district, finding wonderful architecture around every corner. The Japanese take pride in their buildings, and it shows. The quality of built work is unmatched in the U.S. I even stumbled upon a Chanel building where the entire front facade was an LED screen that displays video advertising for Chanel. We're talking 20 stories tall, video screen, as a building. It was incredible.
After that I discovered "Echo", 8 levels of Japanese Karaoke. Tempting as it was, I had to pass on doing Karaoke in a private room alone in a foreign country. Next time, Echo. Next time.
After 2 hours of wanderings, I made my way back to sleep at the Imperial (a.k.a. super nice) Hotel.
Tokyo: a city of high-rises, flashing lights, and a serious obsession with youth culture.
But how did I arrive here? On a plane. And on that plane I just happened to sit next to a 26-year-old Christian guy from Turlock, CA named Brandon. Little did Matt know, but Brandon would end up saving his trip to Tokyo... (read on)
After good conversation with Brandon, some sleep, and a mediocre plane movie, Brandon and I exchanged info. I left for my hotel in Narita (right next to the airport), and he went downtown to meet his dad at their hotel. Well, apparently Narita is 1.5 hours by train outside downtown Tokyo. Who knew? Not me. I was faced with a dilemma: leave the hotel right then (at 9pm) for downtown Tokyo and then wander the streets all night until the trains began running again...OR stay in my hotel that night, get up early and hit Tokyo during the day. I weighed both options. If you know me, you know which path I chose.
A few minutes later, I had purchased a Japanese calling card and called Brandon to see if I should meet him in Tokyo for a little Japanese Karaoke. He informed me that his dad's flight was delayed until the next day, so I could stay in his room. BRILLIANT! (for me...unfortunate for his father).
VERTICAL LIVING!
The 1.5 hour train ride shed some light onto how 35 million people can inhabit a single city- hundreds upon hundreds of the same 35+ story apartment building for miles. No joke.
ROOM UPGRADEI arrived, dripping wet from walking through a Japanese flash-monsoon, at Brandon's hotel (The Imperial Hotel) in Giza district (financial/retail area). Incredible view of the city from the 22nd floor. By this time it was after 11pm, and Brandon was ready to call it a night. I had some exploring to do.
DISCOVERING GIZA
I meandered through the Tokyo streets in search of food, settling on a Sushi place. When in Rome. The menu had pictures, and so I picked the most adventurous looking thing: the face of a Red Snapper. And it was pretty good- delicate, savory- though a bit too boney.
After this I explored the Giza district, finding wonderful architecture around every corner. The Japanese take pride in their buildings, and it shows. The quality of built work is unmatched in the U.S. I even stumbled upon a Chanel building where the entire front facade was an LED screen that displays video advertising for Chanel. We're talking 20 stories tall, video screen, as a building. It was incredible.
After that I discovered "Echo", 8 levels of Japanese Karaoke. Tempting as it was, I had to pass on doing Karaoke in a private room alone in a foreign country. Next time, Echo. Next time.
After 2 hours of wanderings, I made my way back to sleep at the Imperial (a.k.a. super nice) Hotel.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
WELCOME! Now that you're here, why not read this entry?
This is a blog. This is my blog. This is not my first blog, but considering my first blog (Fusion SF) is strong in concept and weak on content, this is the space where I will be pouring the brunt (all) of my electronic journaling energies.
I hope you enjoy my blog. If you desire to be informed about Matthew Ridenour's rendezvous and excursions throughout Asia for the next 2 months, please become a follower. You won't regret it.
REAL TIME:
I am currently sitting at home in Westlake Village, CA- a 25-year-old man. For the first time ever. At midnight I stepped into the realm of Quarter-Centurydom. And it's been pretty good ever since. My mother, the lovely Mrs. Wendy Ridenour was the sole person on earth to witness me turning 25 years old. When I informed her that this was a "big deal", she informed me that she was also the only one there (not sure where Pastor Dale was) 25 years ago when I entered the world. So she's seen it all. What a woman.
At 12:01am my buddy Greg Zapf came over, narrowly missing the rowdy and rambunctious countdown to midnight that my mother and I had just finished. Greg and I worked on some travel plans, as we will be meeting (God willing) in New Delhi, India on June 30. So you will definitely hear much more about Greg. Maybe so much that you'll grow tired of him. But please don't grow weary of Greg- he's a solid guy with a heart of gold, not to mention an impeccable driving record.
It is nearly 3am, and I am attempting to circumvent the jet lag by keeping myself from sleep tonight. I will be flying for 16 hours straight to Tokyo, and want to be ready to go upon arrival.
Please keep me in your prayers as I embark upon this adventure of epic proportions. I am excited about the travels that await me.
Off to "26 hours in Tokyo!" Sound like a good name for an indie-pop band's debut album? You decide.
I hope you enjoy my blog. If you desire to be informed about Matthew Ridenour's rendezvous and excursions throughout Asia for the next 2 months, please become a follower. You won't regret it.
REAL TIME:
I am currently sitting at home in Westlake Village, CA- a 25-year-old man. For the first time ever. At midnight I stepped into the realm of Quarter-Centurydom. And it's been pretty good ever since. My mother, the lovely Mrs. Wendy Ridenour was the sole person on earth to witness me turning 25 years old. When I informed her that this was a "big deal", she informed me that she was also the only one there (not sure where Pastor Dale was) 25 years ago when I entered the world. So she's seen it all. What a woman.
At 12:01am my buddy Greg Zapf came over, narrowly missing the rowdy and rambunctious countdown to midnight that my mother and I had just finished. Greg and I worked on some travel plans, as we will be meeting (God willing) in New Delhi, India on June 30. So you will definitely hear much more about Greg. Maybe so much that you'll grow tired of him. But please don't grow weary of Greg- he's a solid guy with a heart of gold, not to mention an impeccable driving record.
It is nearly 3am, and I am attempting to circumvent the jet lag by keeping myself from sleep tonight. I will be flying for 16 hours straight to Tokyo, and want to be ready to go upon arrival.
Please keep me in your prayers as I embark upon this adventure of epic proportions. I am excited about the travels that await me.
Off to "26 hours in Tokyo!" Sound like a good name for an indie-pop band's debut album? You decide.
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