Bumming around Bangkok

Reclining Buddha

Meeting an interesting Indian and British guy at breakfast the next day, we followed the directions that they gave us to the Grand Palace. Almost five hours, a stroll through Chinatown, a giant swing, numerous temples and a huge water bottle later, we arrived. What should have taken us less than an hour took almost five with all the wrong turns and detours we made. And it had closed twenty minutes earlier. At least on the way, we had stopped at Wat Pho, a temple famous for its’ reclining Buddha. Ready to be done with Thailand, we impatiently awaited our flight to Yangon, Myanmar.

Chills in Chiang Mai

One of the young tigers

     With our extra time in Bangkok, we decided to take a day trip to Chiang Mai, where the tiger temple is located. This temple, Wat Pa Luangta Bua Yannasampanno, consists of boars, buffalo, cows, deer and goats. Originally a haven for injured or unwanted animals, it is now a wildlife sanctuary. The first cub, whose mother was killed by poachers, was brought to the monastery in 1999. After the first cub, four more males and four more females we rescued from poachers and given to the monks to raise. These cubs grew and began reproducing, thus creating a tiger “haven.”



    People are allowed to visit between 1:30 and 3:30, when the tigers are napping and resting in the heat of the day. You could also come earlier or stay later and participate in “exercising” the tigers, which seemed a bit scary. We walked around the temple grounds with the only other person in our group, a very friendly Italian guy. We all took turns taking pictures with the tigers, and then Becca began questioning the workers as to why the tigers are so quiet and calm. The woman laughed, and said they get drugging questions all the time. There is only a short period where people are able to touch them, during the heat of the day when tigers sleep. Also, they have been hand-raised and thus desensitized to human touch. As we pet them, all the workers warned us to touch them with a very firm brush, because a light touch would be like a fly or tickling them and they would swat us. Pleased that we came here, we headed back in the van and back to Bangkok.

Back to Bangkok

Wat Pho

Returning to Bangkok to drop off our passports and hopefully get our India visas in one day, we dropped off our stuff and hopped into a cab. Arriving at the embassy we were informed that we could not pick up our passports until Monday. Stuck in Bangkok, we decided to see some of the surrounding city that we had missed before. And onto Chiang Mai we went.

Fresh Four Thousand Islands

    Sleeping bus. Weird ferry. Rain. Mud. More mud. Cows. Walking around the island in mud. Kayaking. Temple. Waterfall. Dolphins. Mud.

    Slimey, wet clinging mud. As we trudged through the mud, as our sandals suctioned down into it, as we almost toppled into it, we laughed at the spectacle we were making. Assuming we would eventually make it to the other side of the island, where the bridge connecting the two largest inhabited islands was, we continued on.
    The day before, we arrived from a bus trip from Luang Prabang to Vientiane, and from Vientiane to Pakse, and from Pakse to the four thousand islands. As we got off the final mini-bus, we were gestured into a tiny little boat to be ferried across the river. As we balanced ourselves to keep from feeling like tipping, the boat men jumped gracefully from boat to boat, in only flip flops. We watched the little islands pass by as our boat slipped through the water.

     As it was rainy season, some of the islands were covered by water, and this also meant that the inhabited islands had their share of puddles. As we stepped off the boat, we gingerly tiptoed around mud holes. We walked around the muddy paths, choosing which guesthouse to stay in. One woman called out to us and showed us a standard room, so we dropped off our bags and headed out to find the connecting island. Choosing to go right, we continued our trend of choosing our steps very carefully. As we passed more guesthouses, we began to see more cows and chickens, tucked in the space underneath the houses. Then the houses began to disappear and were replaced with fields and families of cows, calmly grazing. As the path became more muddy, we were sure that we were close. But then as no one came along, we began to think that this was way a bit more treacherous.

    And so it became more so, as our delicate stepping became trying to not sink into the mud. And then we sank. We squished around with our sandals stuck to the earth. We finally gave up on the shoe idea and walked more easily through the paths. Eventually reaching a hill with actual people, we looked at each other and laughed. I could barely climb up the rocky hill, as the slippery mud that covered my sandals and feet kept me sliding backwards. We finally made it to the river and rinsed off, realizing that we took the long, scenic route. Stopping for lunch, we headed back on the path that cut through the middle of the island.
    As we walked, school got out, leaving children biking back home on the path that we were on. Clutching umbrellas, I hoped it wasn’t going to rain on us. Just as I was thinking that, it started to rain, and then children opened up their umbrellas and kept biking. So Becca and I sped our pace up to try and beat it. The rain has beat us everywhere we’ve gone, I don’t think we’ll ever outrun it.

    The next day, we woke up early to go on an all day kayaking trip. As it turns out, the rain was off-putting to people, so the trip was just the two of us and the guide. We had to put on bright yellow hard hats and short little life jackets. As we pushed away from the shore, the vastness of the area became more clear, as it did later in the day, when we were wet and tired.
    Our first stop was a temple, and then the small part of the waterfall. As we walked along the middle of the island, a huge bug dropped down onto Becca’s shoulder. Laughing, we kept asking our guide about different things, what’s growing here-just a different type of rice-who is the small cemetery for-Vietnam victims. He answered all of our questions and was very cheery, even when it began to rain as we got to the beach. And then it poured. We stood under the roof of a house until it began to taper off, and then we headed out.
    We kayaked through some strong rapids (Becca almost tipped), and ended on a little dock. Our guide gave us our lunch (rice and vegetables) and bade us to look for dolphins. And then they began jumping. The Irrawaddy dolphins, kind of a squished, teddy bear looking creature, were playing and jumping around the area that we had just kayaked from. Immersed in dolphin watching, our guide took a quick nap and then we set out again.
    This time we went to the large part of the waterfall, but it was more like strong, rushing rapids. Soaked and tired, we headed back to our part of the island. The most interesting way to travel to the four thousand islands? By sleeping bus. Beds on both sides and two levels. We actually slept a little bit, and enjoyed not having an uncomfortable seat to scrunch in. If only there were more of these buses.

Lounging in Luang Prabang

multi-headed dragon inside a temple

     
     Joma. That's all. As we reveled in the soup and salads that reminded us of our long-loast Panera, we guiltily berated each other for our silly craving. But that doesn't mean we enjoyed it any less. Our sudden excitement for a treat that reminded us of home was most likely (and by most likely, I mean definitely) a result of our dinner the first night we arrived.
    Walking through the night market, we sought out new bags (we were a little tough on ours and going through them at a solid rate), new Aladdin pants and paintings. Pleased with some of our finds, we set out for dinner. Stopping at a place that looked promising, we sat down and ordered. Unfortunately, our earlier purchases happened to be the best decision we made that night, as the father of the family brought out our friend fish. Our whole, still headed, eyes practically staring you down, gills flapping in the breeze, fish. As we stared at each other in horror, we tried to smile weakly as we stole glances down at our little sautéed friend. Eating bread, rice and soda water, we made a deal to really think about what we were about to order from now on. Thanking the family, we headed off into the night.

Finding Nemo

    The next day, we left early armed with our banana smoothies and strong Lao coffee. Walking around the city, we stopped at the many Buddhist temples and monasteries that made Luang Probing a UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Walking down the street, a fishing man asked if we wanted to go on a boat ride to the temples and market down the river. As our little boat struggled upstream, we stopped at a small village whose inhabitants created pressed paper lamps and cotton scarves. Back in the city, we changed to go up to the tallest point, Wat Chom Si, to see the sunset over the city.

sunset over luang prabang

    We walked a strange way up the top, through a small village on the side of the temple, literally behind and around their homes. Feeling the humidity by the time we rushed to the top, we took a few pictures and headed down before it got too dark to see the steps.

    The next day we enjoyed fruit smoothies and read for a bit before we were picked up to go to the elephant sanctuary. As we got there, we were immediately led to our elephant, and gestured to get on. Climbing aboard this large mammal, I was surprised at how much coarse hair was covering his head. First, we sat in the wooden seat, but as we got further into the forest, our guide jumped onto the ground from his seemingly precarious position on the elephants head and gestured for us to scoot down. We sat down lower and our guide suddenly became a professional photographer, motioning us in different poses and taking a plethora of photos. Giggling, we stayed in our position until we got back, which apparently others did not do. As we reached the elephants’ home, we were asked by the others if we liked sitting on the elephant. Um, yes. It was way more fun that way. Patting our elephant and thanking our funny guide, we headed back into town armed with an arsenal of photos.

Vivid Vientiane

The Golden Stupa

      Arriving in Vientiane, we were surprised at the city we found. Keeping a strong French influence, there were numerous bakeries and cafes boasting delicious cuisine. Stopping at a restaurant, we had my favorite thing- fruit, museli and yogurt. Wandering around the city a bit, we decided to walk to the Myanmar embassy. Google maps walking directions was a bit off on this one, we ended up walking right into someone’s front yard, where a few yappy dogs bounded out and nibbled Becca’s Aladdin pants, making her very unhappy. We finally made it to the embassy, of course it was right by Singapore and Brunei. Opening the gate, we signed in and waited. The woman that came out was slightly pregnant and slightly unhappy with her job. She sent us down the street to get more photos taken because our passport photos weren’t “normal” enough. After filling out the forms to apply for a visa, requirements- height, eye color, complexion, we left and headed out to enjoy our day at Buddha park.

One of the statues at Buddha Park

     We took a small bus to the bus station, and then a mini-bus to the park. Crammed in a little bus, every bump became an earthquake. Holding on for dear life, children were tossed around as the door flung open and closed on its rusty hinges. Managing not to fall out the door, we wandered around this small, but packed park. Buddhas of all shapes and sizes seemed strewn about haphazardly, forming an interesting space. This “spirit city” of Hindu and Buddhist  After the bus ride back from the park, we walked around the city, stopping to take photos of the many temples.

    As we passed the main city area, we walked towards C.O.P.E.- the Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise. The children there are survivors of explosives, and they are given prosthetics in order to regain a normal way of life. We watched videos and heard stories about victims, not only children, that are unaware of the bombs locations. One woman was cooking in her house, and the heat from the fire set off a bomb underneath her. And small children collect pieces of shrapnel that they find to sell or use as toys. The public relations manager was very informative, and we left pleased that we had stopped by. Stopping by the Golden Stupa, the national stupa of Laos, we ended our time here.

Bawdy Bangkok

   

In the first cab to the cabaret show

       The journey from Siem Reap to Bangkok didn’t take as long as expected, however, the border crossing took much longer. After being dropped off by the bus, we waited for our bags (the ones at the very bottom) to be removed from the bus. Finally grabbing them, we headed around the traffic circle and into the huge group that was congregating around immigration. We stood in line forever, as the line finally split into four lines. Quickly passing the counter (again we were finger-printed), we walked to the other side and stopped, unaware of where we were supposed to go next. We didn’t see anyone from our bus, nor the “guide” that had pointed us in the direction of immigration. Walking down the road, we passed fruit stands and more children asking for money. Finally, we saw customs and a large, imposing sign threatening a life sentence or execution for having anything to do with drugs. We were shuffled through, and then came out the other side, where we were given colored stickers signaling our destination. Just like cattle. As we were shepherded past the station, the red stickers continued on and the yellow stickers (us) stopped in front of a mini-mart. Waiting for the bus, we were surprised to find that we were standing next to it the entire time. And by “bus” they meant “large van that we’re going to stuff with as many people as we possibly can.” Debating whether to wait or jump on in the last possible space, we quickly made our decision after one of the guys on the bus said that he had been waiting for three hours. Squished next to the backpacks, we put our headphones in and waited out the four hour ride.
    Arriving in Bangkok, we were dropped off on the side of a street. Trying to contact Baitoey, we walked along the busy roads looking for internet. Finding a restaurant advertising it, we stopped inside, only to discover that the internet didn’t work. Leaving me with our bags, Becca ran across the street to persuade the jewelry store to let her use their internet for a minute. Ten minutes later, she came back, saying she found a restaurant down the road but that she said she was waiting for me, used the internet and then ran off. So we went back to the restaurant and waited for Baitoey to respond to our face book message.
    Enjoying pad thai and lemon tea, we decided to just find a guesthouse and hang out with Baitoey tomorrow. Finding one on our maps app, we headed off in the direction we thought it was in. A few wrong turns later, we ended up on Khosan Road. Spotting a sign for our guesthouse on this bright, lively street, we turn left, through the displays of jewelry, past the t-shirts, down a narrow alleyway, past a little restaurant, around a corner, past a tattoo parlor and finally found it. We agreed to meet Baitoey tomorrow at her university and settled in for the night.
    The next day, we walked the opposite direction, through more shops, beauty parlors and apparently a casino before arriving at a street to catch a cab. The first two cabs didn’t understand the address B had sent us, but the third did. “Far, why there” the driver asked. “Meeting a friend.” And we set off for her school. Arriving at the road, the cab driver dropped us off, and we waited for Baitoey to arrive. We saw her immediately, waving frantically from across the street in a bright shirt. She walked us to her campus and we sat down and waited for her friend, Joy, to meet us. While we waited, Baitoey brought us over a snack, after asking if we liked mango and spicy. What she came back with did not remind me of mango at all. It was shredded mango, dried shrimp, peanuts, and some sort of dried fish with a spicy orange sauce over it all. And the she brought over coconuts with straws in them. This became the trend for the day, we asked what something was or Baitoey thought we would like it, and we would get it. Thus, the feasting day began.
    We hopped in the cab, and arrived a little over an hour later at a temple. Baitoey and Joy showed us where to light the incense and candle, where to put the candle, where to place the little square of gold paper, and where we were supposed to pray. Usually we just walk into temples, appreciate the beauty, snap a few pictures and leave, so it was nice to be able to participate.

    After the temple, we headed out to take a boat around the harbor. Climbing in the little boat, our guide assured us that we would not tip over. Laughing, we snapped pictures of the fishing villages, the fish that “walks” out of water, and the lizards that crawl around. Back to the cab, we headed out and stopped at another temple. This temple was overlooked by a monk sitting inside, who told us that we were very beautiful. Thanking him, we walked around admiring the wood carvings and prayed with Baitoey and Joy. Leaving the temple, we smiled at the sleeping monk.
    Outside, Baitoey showed us the gongs that you hit for luck. Becca and I hit them a few times, hoping for the best. Back to the cab, we drove for a while again, eventually reaching one of Bangkok’s famous floating markets. We went to Amphawa, one that is less touristy, but more popular with locals. The first things we walked through were clothes and some trinkets, and then the market began. We were immediately greeted with desserts of every kind, green wrapped ones, ones stuffed with cream, and little popsicles surrounded by ice and water in a large tin bucket. Asking Baitoey about them, she insisted we get them, We tried to eat them quickly so the brightly colored juice wouldn’t run down our fingers. Passing fried foods, fish in little baskets, and fushia and green desserts, we finally made it to the river. Walking along the edges of the market, we peered down people in boats cutting fruit and cooking seafood.

the floating market

    Stopping at a restaurant with little tables on the edge of the ledge, we sat on the ground and ordered seafood-shrimp, scallops, spicy seafood salad, squid, and real pad thai. Everything was delicious, the seafood was fresh, and the pad thai was perfect- a leaf with noodles, bread crumbles, seafood and a little pile of sugar, peanuts and red pepper flakes. Stuffed, we continued our walk along the river, stopping for banana pieces cooked on a stick. A few stops later, Baitoey insisted that we get some sun cakes. They ended up being kind of strange-a flakey dough with a more solid, sweet inside. Since it was sweet, Becca loved it. And then B insisted that we get ice cream and these little jelly and cream treats. On our way out, Baitoey got dessert tacos stuffed with sugar and coconut and cotton candy. After all of this sugar, we called it a day.
    The next day, Baitoey met us at our guesthouse at about noon. We had already made a trip to Starbucks for Becca’s addiction and were waiting contently with our drinks. We got onto yet another cab and headed to one of the large markets, as Baitoey enjoyed shopping as much as we do. On our way, we stopped at a jewelry gallery, the largest in Thailand. At first, we were confused as to why Baitoey took us here, as there were also really touristy scarves, wallets and trinkets that were way more expensive than the open-air markets. We detoured and entered the main gem area, where there were thousands of necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings in glass cases. Wandering around, we were again followed by an annoying suited woman that was assigned to us the moment we came in. She was always behind us, no matter where we went. We each bought a sapphire ring that was more than we budgeted for, but way less than we would have paid in the states.
    Leaving the jewelry store, we drove to the market, where we were overwhelmed with the amount of clothing, trinkets and food available. Walking through the aisles, I stopped to look at dresses, while Baitoey bought some shoes. The shops became more boutique-like, but still at inexpensive prices. We stopped at a little restaurant-stand to try another sweet- black jelly with ice and brown sugar. Stopping at a restaurant for lunch, we tried more Thai food-including sour soup and fish cakes.

One of the lady-boys at the cabaret show

    Back at our hotel, we got ready to go to Calypso- a cabaret show. Taking a cab to the hotel was quite simple, the most difficult part was pushing our way through the crowd on Khaosan Road. Arriving slightly late, we lucked out by buying tickets that someone had reserved, but didn’t show up for. Three rows away from the stage, we were center stage for a cabaret show by the highest paid prostitutes in the world. And they happened to be transgender men. Gorgeous transgender men. Their hair was long and flowing and they wore tight, revealing dresses and leotards. As we left, we took pictures with one of our favorites- a spirited, pretty brunette. As we walked outside, we tried to guesstimate how far away the Hilton was.
    Turns out that none of the cab drivers knew what or where the Hilton was. Five cabs, numerous phone calls to cab driver’s English speaking friends, and a cab driver that drove us around, stopping at random hotels later, Becca called her dad and asked him to look up the address. He incredulously asked, “they don’t know where the Hilton is?” Nope. Apparently, it’s the Millennium Hilton and most of the letters in “Hilton” are unpronounceable in Thai. Interesting.
    After getting out of the cab, as the driver tried to charge us more after he figured out where we were really going, we found an older driver that used the meter. Finally arriving at the Hilton, we took the elevator to the highest floor, to go to the 360 skybar. The outside patio area was very quite, there were two guys sipping cocktails as they overlooked the city. The inside was a little busier, but not by much. Jazz music was being played by a band, as a woman sang in the glowing blue room. We ordered cocktails- a strawberry Belvedere and a blueberry pancake- and sipped our drinks as we looked out over Bangkok.

At the top of the Hilton- the 360 bar

    Before long, a group of businessmen showed up, along with a few women. A couple of the guys came over to talk to us, and we found out that they were on business from Canada. After Becca frightened the Jewish guy away by talking about Israel, one of the women excitedly rushed over. She had gone to UW-Madison about ten years ago and was thrilled to meet other alumni. She worked for the previous Thai government, had been a member of Parliament and was now a superintendent. She immediately decided that her brother, who had also gone to UW, needed to come join us as well. As the older men left, a small group remained with us. And proceeded to buy a bottle of whisky and pay the servers and bartenders to stay open for a few more hours, past bar time. Chatting until the early morning, they then decided that we should all go to a club. Walking out of the hotel, we hopped into the awaiting Porsche and BMW, and sped off into the night.
    Two clubs, numerous gin and tonics and vodka redbulls later, we were exhausted and ready to go back. And then we were invited to one of our new friend’s (Matt) dad’s birthday parties the next day. Matt offered to put us up in the Hilton for the remainder of our stay, get us flights to the island we were going to, and let us use his yacht while we were there. And then sent one of his drivers to take us to the India Embassy to apply for our visas. Way to represent, Wisconsin Alum.

Sleepless in Siem Reap

Bayon temple

After our short time in Phnom Penh, we boarded yet another bus to Siem Reap, the border town of the ancient Wat Temples, including the most famous, Angkor Wat. The bus ride was interesting, to say the least. What should have been a much shorter drive became much longer and complicated by the rough road and numerous stops. For a stretch of about two hours, we traveled a narrow isthmus that was broken up by deep ruts and rocks. This meant we were driving at very slow pace, and that we were afraid that the bus would tip over at any minute. Passing many houses on stilts and even more cows (three different types: a normal looking brown one, a geometrically angular white/grey one with horns, and a dark gray one with longer, pointy horns.) There was always a pond of some sort in the front of the yard, where children and cows would be swimming, and women would be removing water lilies or washing clothing.
Arriving in Siem Reap, we were picked up by one of the guys that worked at our guesthouse. He spoke a little English and smiled constantly. We instantly liked him, and were thrilled when we found out that he would be our tuk-tuk driver the next day. As we got closer to our guesthouse, the roads became watery and then were flooded. The driver took a roundabout way to get to our hostel, but we still had to walk through knee deep water to get to the front door. Apparently, it floods every year. The owner of the guesthouse gave us a map and explained the best temples to go to and her favorite foods and where to get them. Her and her husband are from Canada and bought the guesthouse ten months ago from a British guy. Taking her advice, we dropped off our bags and headed out into the flooded streets.

fish massages

We followed the map she gave us, found one of her favorite restaurants and tried a multitude of things, including a sweet potato/chicken bake and a pumpkin soup. After dinner, we walked along the flooded streets of the market, and stopped to get a fish foot massage. We climbed up on the cushioned seats and submerged our feet into the huge tanks. Swarms of two to three inch starving fish swarmed our feet and nibbled hungrily. The strange sensation at first tickled, and then became uncomfortable about fifteen minutes later. Laughing as we got out, we headed down the river back to our hostel. On the way back, we passed a little stand attached to a cart that said banana-chcolate-pancake. So of course we stopped. The man made them in front of us on his stove. This delicious treat quickly became one of our favorites.

Banteay Srey

The next morning (with our prepacked breakfast of museli, fruit and yogurt), we headed out in our tuk-tuk to go to the temples. Our driver first took us to Banteay Srey, a Hindu temple made of a pink limestone and dedicated to the god Shiva. As it was very early in the morning, there were hardly any people there, and we were free to wander around in the quiet morning. Back in our tuk-tuk, our driver asked if we wanted to stop by the landmine museum. We debated for a minute and then said sure. It turned out to be one of the most interesting places we stopped at.
Walking into the land mine museum, we passed huge Russian and American bombs. Once inside, we read about Aki Ra, a former Khmer Rouge child soldier that has dedicated his life to decommisioning land mines. As a soldier, he laid thousands of land mines and was first given a gun at the age of ten. As a country, Cambodia has one of the highest rates of land mines. Land mines cost less than a dollar to make, but over a thousand to decommission, costing this already impoverished country more than it can afford. Over two and a half million tons of bombs were dropped on Cambodia by the United States between 1969-1974, while the total amount of bombs used by all countries during World War  II was only two million tons. Still,  the United States remains of thirteen countries (including Myanmar, Nepal, India, China, North Korea, South Korea, Pakistan, Singapore, Vietnam, Iran, Russia and Cuba) to continue to produce (or not pledged to stop producing) antipersonnel mines.

inside the Land Mine Museum

Behind this museum holds an orphanage of children that were affected by land mines. Stopping by the handicrafts on the way out, we bought a few things, as all the proceeds go to the orphans. Leaving this museum, we told our driver, Chamnan, that we were so glad that we stopped and learned a lot more about not only Cambodia’s history, but our own.

Ta Prohm

Heading down the bumpy road, we were taken to Ta Prohm, the location of Tomb Raider, where the trees have overgrown the temple. We then headed to Bayon, the temples that have the large faces everywhere and Ta Keo. Hot and sweaty by this time, we headed to the largest of all the temples, Angkor Wat. I thought that my favorite would be Angkor Wat, but I was more interested in all the faces at Bayon. As it was now late in the afternoon, we headed back to our guesthouse to shower and change for dinner.
We headed out to find Sugar Palm, a restaurant that had the best fish amok in town. As we left the guesthouse, the owner commented that the water had gone down, and that he was glad because “yesterday they were worried about the crocodiles getting loose down the street.” Later, our tuk0tuk driver told us that they escape every year, but not to worry because “the owner goes out right away to find and catch them.” Great.
After searching down the street that the restaurant was supposed to be on, we had to ask multiple people where the restaurant was. After being sent down another street, it began to pour. And yet again, we had forgotten our rain ponchos. Running through the streets, we found the restaurant and enjoyed the fish amok (a whitefish cooked with coconut milk, tumeric and paprika to the consistency of a souffle) and chicken curry alongside our margarita and caipirinha, which tasted surprisingly similar. After the crocodile story, we decided not to brave the streets again and took a tuk-tuk instead. And stopped for banana pancakes on the way. Delicious.

Bang Mealea

The next day, we again left early to go to Beng Mealea, a temple left entirely to the wilderness. It took over two hours to get to this temple, much further than we expected.  A guide took us around the temple, climbing over loose rock and wiggling through the trees. Of course, we did it all in flip-flops. Without the guide, we definitely would not have explored all of this intricate temple.
Back to the tuk-tuk, our guide drove us on the back roads back to Siem Reap, passing through the village that his father was from, and filling up with gas at his cousins’ place. Filling up with gas was interesting: the driver’s seat is lifted and gas is poured from a bottle, most often a old Pepsi bottle, from a stand on the side of the road. Driving over the (increasingly deep) ruts, we were glad when we made it to the Silk Factory.
Walking through the factory, our guide explained all the steps of silk-making, which is way more complicated than we thought. Becca interviewed our guide at the end of our tour, and he was more than happy to explain why he thinks people should learn more about Cambodia. Leaving the factory, we stopped and bought ice cream cones for us and Chamnan.
Eating our ice cream by the tuk-tuk, we asked him lots of questions about his life and Cambodians perceptions of Americans. He showed us pictures of his children and told us about his Australian photographer friend that is paying for his twin girls to go to a private school. And he told us that Cambodians really like Americans. Then, Becca asked how they possibly could after everything we’ve done to them. Smiling as he took a bite of his cone, he said “it was a long time ago. The Cambodians, we forgive. We are a forgiving people and we want to move forward.” Smiling back, we agreed that that was a good way to live, and that more people should take similar stances and forgive others instead of holding grudges.
Back to Siem Reap, we asked to be dropped off at a bank so we could take out more money (as it’s dispersed in US dollars here. Going inside, we took out our daily allowance, and took it to the counters to be changed into smaller bills. And then the disaster began. Becca received five hundred back in small bills, after the woman had not counted the bills in front of her. But she was positive that she had given the woman six hundred- five that she had just taken out and another hundred from her wallet. The woman looked at her in confusion as she insisted that Becca was wrong. As the rest of the bankers crowded around Becca’s window, she insisted that she had taken five hundred out and given them another hundred from her wallet. A few women left and others came, staring at us awkwardly. This continued for ten excruciatingly long minutes while Becca asked them what they were going to do about the problem. Finally, we started talking, I said I took out four hundred, with one hundred broken into smaller bills and one more from earlier. A dawning recognition came over Becca’s face as she realized what she had done- one hundred was already broken into smaller bills. “We have to leave,” she commented, as she grabbed her wallet and we rushed toward the door. Unfortunately, it was not that easy, a woman from behind the counter followed us out and asked Becca if she wanted to see the video. And then Becca had to explain what happened as I stood outside the door of the bank, barely containing my laughter. Leaving the bank, we stopped at an optometrist, as they were offering a special deal on glasses, and I really wanted a new pair.  After going through the really funny exam, which consisted of different lenses being placed in these huge glasses, they said my prescription was not included in the deal. At least we have funny pictures of me wandering around in huge, black framed glasses. And then what did we do after our long, funny day? Found the banana pancake man and got one more before our trip to Thailand.

Random Little Things

the sidewalk in Hanoi

Jakarta, Indonesia was our first experience with intense traffic. We thought Cairo was insanity, but Jakarta was even crazier. To cross the street, you just walk right out into the traffic, holding out one hand at hip level. You confidently stride into the swarm of motorbikes, tuk-tuks, and cars hoping that everyone will watch out for the foreigners and let them pass. At first, a lot of locals would take pity on us, and gesture for us to follow them, as they seamlessly blended between all the traffic. Now, we could easily cross any street, no hand-holding required.
In Hanoi, Vietnam, we were surprised at the amount of motorbikes that stream through the streets. Motorbikes are more common than cars, but they consider more than the street their pathway. Often, in crowded traffic (or just by someone impatient), the drivers would quickly turn onto the sidewalk and drive down it just like a street. Much to our annoyance and more often than not, our strolls would turn into dodging motorbikes that would come up on us from behind. They also parked their motorbikes on the sidewalk, often pedestrians would be forced to walk through the street because bikes took up all the room on the sidewalk.
In Phnom Penh, we found a massage place where the masseurs were blind. It was a little strange at first, as they held onto the edges of the massage bed or your arms or legs to orient themselves. They were extremely friendly, however, and gave really great massages. Next up, a Thai massage.

Pensive in Phnom Penh

Inside of the Buddhist Memorial at the Killing Fields

        Full from banana cake and armed with cookies for the journey, we settled onto our seven hour bus ride from Saigon to Phnom Penh. The border crossing was exceptionally easy, as we had already paid for an e-visa. Even with the additional quickness we gained, we were still the last people back onto the bus, as everyone else was from Cambodia or Vietnam. As we continued, we came upon a ferry crossing. As the bus drove onto the ferry, small children, some missing limbs, climbed aboard the bus and begged for money. A few just sat on the steps and wailed as an uncomfortable silence and sadness filled the bus. Crossing the waterway, the children left, going back across the river to try their luck again.

Arriving in Phnom Penh, a tuk-tuk driver waved at us. Assuming it was ours, we walked towards him, only to see another driver holding a sign with Rebecca’s name on it. Apologizing to the first driver, we walked off through the dirt to our tuk-tuk. Climbing awkwardly into this tuk-tuk, we immediately noticed the pictures he had posted on the inside of the roof- a young white guy holding a bunch of different guns, including AK-47’s. Huh. Interesting. We asked our tuk-tuk driver about  who he was, and from what we could garner, he was a friend who went to the shooting range. Apparently you can shoot almost anything there. And then he asked if we would like to go tomorrow. “Ummm…No thanks, “ we politely declined. As I went to take pictures of the street,  the driver started yelling “no pictures!” He then explained (kind of) that people who steal would grab it as we were driving along. Hopefully the rest of the visit wouldn’t be like this.

Buddhist memorial at the Killing Fields

The next day, we woke up early to go to the Killing Fields and S-21, the Khmer Rouge’s secret prison. Taking a tuk-tuk to the Killing Fields, we walked around the mass graves and giant memorial to the victims. Neither of us realized the extent of Pol Pot’s regime, or that it wasn’t just a minority group he was targeting, but anyone that didn’t conform to his ideal way of living. We didn’t realize that there were many instances of Killing Fields and prisons, these were just the largest. The Khmer Rouge reign spread throughout all of Cambodia and wiped out a fourth of their population.  They wanted Cambodia to be a classless society, burning books and abolishing money to attempt to spread communism. Thus, many intellectuals, scholars and political activists were taken, tortured and murdered along with their children. They were taken against their will, forced to smile in photos to symbolize their “agreement” to being contained and either immediately taken by truckload to the Killing Fields, where they were brutally murdered, or taken to S-21, where people that could “help” the regime were horrifically tortured until they admitted to falsehoods that the Khmer Rouge accused them of. 

a mass grave at the Killing Fields

              In the Killing Fields, people were murdered in groups, never kept alive longer than a day after they were brought there. Their children were killed in front of them in order to keep them from seeking retaliation for their parents’ deaths when they grew up. The were often smacked and beaten against a tree until they were dead. Older people were beheaded or had their throats slit. Their bodies were then disposed off in mass graves of hundreds of people. 

Walking silently through the Killing Fields, we reflected upon the atrocities committed there. When there is heavy rainfall, bones and clothing still surface, as many of the graves have not been excavated. As a memorial to the people who perished, a Buddhist monument stands in the middle of the fields, holding the skulls of many victims. After placing money in the donation bin, we walked into the small museum there, and then left to go to the Genocide Museum, the former S-21 Prison.

In the prison, dissenters were strapped down to metal bed frames while brutally interrogated or many other forms of torture were used. Electrical power was placed in their ears, their nails were removed and they were held underwater for extended amounts of time. One woman jumped to her death, and as a result of this, barbed wire was placed along all of the balconies to keep the same incident from occurring. And the Khmer Rouge documented everything, from photos of their members (anyone from a young boy to old woman), to photos of the prisoners, the torture inflicted upon them, and even their brutal death. 

an interrogation room at S-21

The prison was kept as it was found when the Khmer Rouge lost power. Torture implements are in their places, and cells and shackles were kept as is. In some of the larger rooms, floor to ceiling photos are displayed of Khmer Rouge members, victims, and conditions in the prison. There are two living survivors of this prison, and both of them were at this prison, sharing their stories. Not only do the survivors wish to speak about their recollections, but many Cambodians want everyone to know about the atrocities that were committed, so it is never repeated. 

photos of the Khmer Rouge

After walking around in silence and speaking with a guide, Becca and I had a lot to discuss, including the United States’ role in the Khmer Rouge regime and the future of Cambodia. In the United States’ zeal to be vehemently anti-Vietnamese and anti-Soviet, we sided with China and backed the Khmer Rouge regime, or Democratic Kampuchea. Even after the fall of the regime, the Khmer Rouge refugee camps in Thailand were used as a planning ground to wage war within Cambodia. The aid they received there came from international relief agencies, at the request of the United States. Perhaps they’re not the only ones that have learned something from this cruel regime. 

Heated in Hanoi (and Halong Bay)

The red bridge connecting to the Ngoc Son Temple

      We arrived quite early in the morning to Hanoi, and thankfully the taxi driver was there to pick us up. Not in a good mood (because apparently our hostel didn’t tell him our flight was delayed for five hours), he was silent the entire way. Arriving at our hostel-which was barred and locked down at night, our taxi driver woke up the hostel worker to let us in. Immediately falling asleep in our very clean, extremely cool and well kept room, we were awoken abruptly by a call in the morning. Breakfast was over but they were going to let us order for another half hour because we had gotten in so late the night before. Putting our contacts in, we headed downstairs and enjoyed the best breakfast we’ve had so far- fried eggs, a crusty loaf of bread, cheese, jam and bananas. We looked forward to the morning every day. Back to out room and changing, we headed out for the day.

The water puppet show

Following the map we were given, we headed toward the Hoan Kiem Lake and the Ngoc Son Temple. It was extremely hot and humid out. The number one thing to do in Hanoi is see the water puppet show, so Becca insisted that we go and buy tickets, because they sell out days in advance. We found the theatre, and were able to buy tickets for the show that had just started. Heading in, Becca was excited and I was apprehensive. I don’t really like cartoons, and this didn’t seem much better. The water puppet show was complimented with live music and singers, singing about the Vietnamese folk tales that we were watching. Overall,  Becca enjoyed it, I would have preferred Fantasia. I actually really wanted to watch it after the puppet show. Stepping out of the theatre, we saw that a monsoon had begun. And we were yet again without our ponchos. Sitting inside the café, we ordered tea and coffee and waited it out. And then decided to see a movie, since we didn’t want to walk around in the rain.
We found a theater, made it inside after a couple attempts with different doors, escalator rides, and elevator incidents. We chose a movie, Just Friends, bought popcorn and hoped that it wasn’t dubbed. It wasn’t. We spent a blissful couple of hours in the cool air conditioning, listening to perfect English. Leaving the theater, we searched out fish fry, didn’t find it and made a horrible mistake. We ordered Western food and it was awful. Chicken sandwiches and salad have never been so disastrous. Learning our lesson (especially after the waiter kept asking why we weren’t eating), we walked back to our hostel, stumbling upon a hidden gem on the way-the night market.

girl selling "ears" of all kinds at the night market

Walking into the throngs of people, we were immediately confused by the Minnie Mouse ears, light up star wands and bright, shiny outfits. THIS was the night market? Teens in short little outfits, dads carrying their little children with masks on, and the unintelligent people trying to ride through on motorbikes. They literally had to walk them through the crowd. Snapping pictures of the colorful blow up balloons, face masks and cotton candy, we vowed to come back another night to partake in the festivities.

Halong Bay

We woke up early the next morning to go to Halong Bay, or the Bay of Descending Dragons. Picked up in a bus, we headed out for the four hour drive. And again stopped part way at an American “art market.” Where the prices were in US dollars. Finally reaching the bay, we climbed aboard our boat and sailed off into the mist.
They cooked us lunch, fresh fish, a green vegetable, cucumbers, French fries and spring rolls. After lunch, we docked within a floating village. Each house was on its own little floating section, which seems like it would be difficult to make into a neighborhood. There were dogs running around in their respective areas, but there wasn’t grass on them, so it seemed a little strange. We hopped off the boat and onto a small floating section, where there were kayaks and torn, ripped life jackets. Becca and I decided to kayak through some small caves and around the bay. I tucked my camera into a plastic bag and we kayaked around, getting extremely wet in the process.

After this, the boat headed off to a cave-Heaven’s Cave. Walking up the steps, Becca listened intently to our guide pointing out different formations like “fairy woman” and “Buddha” while I wandered around. Back to our boat, we watched schools of little fish jumping out of the water as we headed back to the dock
.
Back at our hostel, we were given directions to a good local restaurant-Highway 4. Inside, we ordered a few things to split: spring rolls, fried fish and little corn. We’re getting insanely good with chopsticks. Well, Becca is still working on it. Everything tasted vaguely of Wasabi, and we were not as satisfied as we were hoping for.

moon cake

salted duck egg inside the mooncake

The next day we walked around looking for the art section, because we really want to get artwork in many places. We found a nice art gallery, where we bought small paintings in bright colors. Then, we decided to try Moon Cake. In the autumn, Moon Cakes are a specialty, and there are many different kinds. With a stand or shop on almost every corner selling them, we walked up to one and chose one with a pink label, hoping it was some sort of berry. We were thinking that it would be like a fruitcake. Finding a bench by the lake, we opened the packaged cake with preservative little packet. Hmmm. Splitting it open, we were surprised to find a large, orange, moon shaped object. We later found out that this is salted duck yolk. ---I made Becca try the cake first to make sure there weren’t nuts. There weren’t. But it was definitely not good. It had a strange flavor, was heavy and not what we were expecting. Moving past this delicacy, we walked on to the night market.
There are two sections to the night market, a shopping area with clothing, makeup, cell phone cases, purses and wallets and a festival area with balloons, face masks, drinks in bags, cotton candy and bright lights. We first walked into the night market and bought a few items to replace some items we had brought. Becca bought some tank tops and shorts, and I bought underwear (instead of washing mine) and shorts. Pleased with our seven dollar (total) purchases, we headed into the festival.

at the night market

Much more crowded than the previous evening, we were pushed and shoved around by good-natured, cheery people. Everyone was in a good mood and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Surrounded by the bright lights, sparkles and bubbles, it was difficult to believe that this place was fairly recently ravaged by war and destruction. We will definitely come back to Vietnam.

Scintillating Saigon

overlooking the Saigon River, at the Majestic Hotel

       We arrived mid-evening to Ho Chi Min City, and grabbed a cab from the airport to our hostel. As we were dropped off, the trouble began. Our cab fare was eighty-three thousand Vietnamese Dong and we only had large bills. Becca handed the cab driver a five hundred thousand, he gave her change, and we got out of the cab. Then came the “Ummm, wait, I’m confused” The cab driver had given Becca thirty thousand in change, which was definitely not correct. As the guy at the reception in our hostel came out to help us, our cab driver started arguing with him. Becca handed back the thirty, and he handed over one hundred thousand, which was still not correct. Our hostel helper finally sighed and the cab driver drove off, after insisting we only gave him two hundred thousand. We explained the situation and our hostel helper called the cab company and they said they would “look into it.” Aka tough luck. Slightly annoyed, the woman and young guy at the desk tried exceptionally hard to be cherry and make our stay there enjoyable. We headed up to our room-which for some reason Becca could not sleep in-and went to sleep.
The next morning, we awoke to a lovely surprise. Two, in fact. Curled up, lying on their backs were two three inch cockroaches. Ick. Good thing they weren’t moving, but one did keep twitching. Leaving the room, we stopped by the reception desk and asked directions to the city center. Extremely helpful (and with a slight British accent) we were given a day guide sheet and directions to a “very good restaurant.” We stopped at a little French bakery instead and bought orange poppy muffins and pastries. Hopping into a cab, we made it to the city center and ate our breakfast in a park.

Reunification Palace

After this, we began the day tour on our sheet, starting at a cathedral, walking down the “richest” street in Saigon and ending at the Majestic Hotel. We walked into the upscale hotel (secretly wishing we were staying there) and headed to the Skybar to overlook the city. Sitting at a table, we ordered smoothies and lingered a bit. And then it started to downpour, and we did not bring our rain ponchos. So Becca ordered coffee, fell in live with the mini-brew pot, and we stayed a lot longer than we planned on. Finally braving the rain, we headed out to the Reunification Palace. The President of South Vietnam lived in this palace and conducted business here. It was also the ending place of the Vietnam War, when a North Vietnamese Army tank crashed through the gate. There are two tanks outside on the lawn. It was eerie and a bit strange that everything was left how it was originally.

Outside the War Remnants Museum

      Then, we headed to the War Remnants Museum. Outside the building were fighter planes and tanks, while inside random remnants, like gas masks, were interspersed among photos and short essays on peoples’ experiences within the war. We spent a long time in the section about Agent Orange, and read a letter from a victim to Obama, asking him for help for her country because there are many like her that are unable to lead normal lives or have children because of it. We’ve both read and heard about Agent Orange victims, but it seems like it’s shuffled aside in light of other issues. Both a little more quiet and lost in our own thoughts, we walked through the rest of the museum. Leaving at close, this was one place that we wished we had a bit more time.
Walking around the city, we happened to leave at the same time that schoolchildren were getting done with class for the day-5pm? Much later than our school days. Weaving in and out of motorbikes with private school students and their parents, we stopped at a café for dinner. Dining on pumpkin soup, curry chicken and seafood fried rice, we were much happier with the food here.
The next day, we woke up early to go to the Cu Chi tunnels. Hopping on a bus, our guide tried to make jokes in broken English. Similar to every other country, we stopped at an “art shop” on the way, where artisans were creating carvings from pearl and inked drawings. And then we were on our way again. Arriving at the Cu Chi tunnels, we were seated in a hut and a propaganda movie was put on. Made in 1968, the narrator’s high pitched voice discussed the “crazy devils” (Americans) bombing the “peaceful, happy “ Cu Chi people. And then showed black and white images (we weren’t sure if they were real or staged) of Cu Chi people protecting their land. We left the movie room and headed out to the tunnels.

Examples of "traps"

On the way to the tunnels, they showed us entrance ways to the tunnels, and how tiny, small and hidden they were. As the fighters would wiggle into the tunnels, the tunnels would split off and have fake ways to go, just in case Americans found their way in. We then went to displays of traps against American soldiers. These were horrifying and awful. The first one was a door that would fall in when stepped on, releasing the unsuspecting victim onto many sharp spikes. The others also involved spikes, but in different ways. Some were on revolving doors, so it kept impaling you on the way down. Some had spikes on the opposite sides of the doors, so it would get your sides as you fell in. And yet others were up on doors, so as a soldier would kick in the door, spikes on a wood block would fall and stab him along the length of his body. Moving past the vicious, deathly traps, we went to the tunnels.
Here, we were able to crouch and wiggle through part of the tunnels, albeit ones that were enlarged for Western visitors. As Becca and I stepped down and hunched over to wiggle through the tunnels, I decided I would not be able to survive through these small, hot tunnel ways without feeling trapped. Claustrophobia wins again. But we got the idea of what it would be like to live in one. Before leaving the tunnels, we were given a snack of some root vegetable with crushed peanuts and sugar and hot tea. Leaving the Cu Chi tunnels, we were again a bit more quiet than normal.

At the salon!

Back in the city center, we walked to the Ben Thanh Market. This large market encompassed anything and everything you could ever want, crammed into tiny little stalls. I bought  a pair of sunglasses-that I hate- and Becca bought a wallet- that she loves. After walking around a bit, we decided to brave a salon and get our hair cut. Vietnam was also famous for its hair-washing, so we were intrigued by that as well. Choosing a salon at random, we walked in a bit nervously and asked for haircuts. As a woman immediately started chopping away at Becca’s hair, I was pounced on with shampoo and another odd liquid. Both liquids were rubbed into my head (without water), and it was like a mini-massage. As she washed it out, my scalp was also massaged again-it was definitely the longest hair washing I’ve ever had. After Becca’s hair was chopped off and layered, the same woman began cutting mine. The one woman there that spoke English was translating for all of them, they kept talking about how pretty we were, but all we wanted was hair like theirs, straight and shiny. After our hair was straightened, we headed to a café to get some ice cream before we left for our delayed flight.

Barefoot in Bali

at Soka Beach

      Of course our trip to Bali couldn’t start without anything less than a dramatic situation. We arrived at the airport an hour and a half early only to find out that our flight was at four, not eight. We thought Fiqy had booked the eight pm one, but it was the earlier one. Sighing (a huge feat due to the enormity of our backpacks), we paid the change fee and headed inside the airport.
Once we reached Bali, we walked through all the cab drivers vying for our attention. Asking the first one about our destination (Soka Beach, Tabanan), we were given a response of “So far, three hour, five hundred.” Ugh. No. It was only an hour and a half and five hundred was way too much, as a cab ride anywhere else for an hour was fifty rupiah. Walking on, we continued asking and received different time estimates and varying prices. We finally got one guy to agree to three hundred, but at that point, we thought we could just get a normal cab that would use a meter. Now it was up to us to find one.
So we did what any sane, logical person would do in our situation. We stormed off in a huff, and started walking down the street. Past the airport hotel, on the stretch of road with a (decorative, not for use) sidewalk, until we reached the only buildings before the highway. Our options were: a closed travel agency, a closed bank or the police station. Looking at each other, we laughed -we would-and headed right in.

at the police station

       “Hiiiiiiiii,” we cheerily announced our presence as we bounded in. Startled to see us (I’m sure not too many tourists stroll in), they smiled in bemusement with furrowed brows as they asked us to sit. And then we spilled our entire story. And asked them to call us a cab. Excited to have company, they chatted with us for a while, as more officers stopped in. Soon, the small office was full as everyone was chatting and joking around with the two funny American girls. Another officer came in with late night dinner and they insisted that we try everything. Taking pictures with some of them, we laughed at this ridiculous situation. Their taxi driver friend eventually showed up, and we were surprised to see an airport driver shirt. And then we ended up paying the original five hundred that we were quoted. At least a funny story came out of it.
The driver drove so quickly, even Becca felt a little ill. Erratic driving, along with the already crazy traffic and zig-zag roads led to us being extremely thankful to reach Soka Beach. Getting out of the cab, our driver asked for a picture with us, an action that was becoming quite common. As we were shown to our room, we quickly settled in and fell asleep.
The next morning, we woke up and had breakfast at our hostel before heading down to the beach. Walking first to the right, we encountered a dead pufferfish laying on the beach. Continuing down the beach, we climbed around rocks and I tried to convince Becca that we could cross the little section of ocean by holding our stuff above our heads. Nope, didn’t work. We headed back to the other side of the beach, in search of a non-rocky area where we could lie in the sun. Walking down the other side, we spotted a lump of something lying in the sand. Walking closer we immediately squealed and couldn’t get away fast enough. It was a dead baby cow. On one side of our hostel were rice paddies with grazing cows and the other side was beach. As we discussed all the ways this baby animal could have made it down the steep hill to the beach, we decided to lie in the small section between dead pufferfish and dead baby cow, where we were out of sight of both. A few minutes later, I sat up to the noise of something running. Apparently there were also wild dogs on this beach. We quickly got up and headed back to our room, as Becca not only dislikes dogs, but hates when they’re around her. We decided to go find internet and find another hostel closer to the main city.
Asking the security at the hostel where the closest internet was, he directed us right, and told us to wait by the side of the road for the next bus. Fifteen minutes later, an extremely full bus swerved around the corner and came to a jerking halt in front of us. Guess this was it. Stepping gingerly on, a seat was pulled out parallel to the open door. As we clutched onto our belongings and tried not to fall out the door, we attempted to explain what we were looking for to the bus assistant. Finally understanding “computer,” he dropped us off a few miles down.
Deposited by a field, we turned and started walking toward the town area, hoping we would get a signal somewhere. Stumbling upon a literal computer lab, we walk in and ask to use one of the dusty monitors. Smiling broadly (I’m not sure how many people come here), the owner helps set up one of them. After all of this, we didn’t find any open rooms so we sigh and get ready to head back to our hostel. The man refuses to let us pay, and then insists upon driving us back. Well, we save money and it’s much nicer. Heading back, we speak a little in broken English as he once again rejects money from us and says that he just wishes Canadian friends. We smile and thank yet another kind Indonesian.

sunset at Soka Beach

       Back at our hostel, we sot out on the beach and brainstorm ideas for a book. Until we're interrupted and distracted by a nice but overly friendly security guy that wants to practice his English. We leave after the sun sets and deicde to go to Kuta- the larger city-tomorrow.
The next morning, we walk up to security and ask if we take the same bus as yesterday to Kuta. They ask us to sit and gesture that they will stop the bus for us. As we’re waiting, one of their friends stop by and offer to drive us, if we don’t mind being in the car with his dog, as he’s dropping her off to make puppies. We stop by his house, where his grandma comes out and smiles at us within this lush, tropical garden. He continues driving, his English is much better than the guy the other day. He teaches at a hospitality school for older teens to learn how to work in a restaurant. We stop by his school and all the students peer out from over balconies, wave and tell us how pretty we are. Finally heading out, he offers to find a friend to drive us around for much cheaper than a taxi. Sure, but taxis are pretty inexpensive. We get to his friends’ and we’re pretty positive that the price his friend is quoting is way too high. Deciding to just take a cab from here, we walk across the street and ask the woman in the small store to call us a cab. Two minutes later, a cab arrives and we wave goodbye. We were right, the taxi was cheaper.
In downtown Kuta, we get smoothies and shop around the market, getting sarongs. As we walk along the cow-less beach, seeing a wedding and lots of activities to do, we decide that we need to leave the hostel we’re at. We go into Gloria Jean’s, use the internet, and book a hotel for the next two nights. As Becca hasn’t been feeling well, we get a cab to take us back and forth right then. As the traffic was really busy then, it took forever to get back. We checked out of our hostel and hopped back into the cab. Arriving at our hotel, we settle into the bug-less rooms.

one new monkey friend

The next morning, our taxi driver from the night before picked us up to go to Ubud- the art center. Getting an early start, we first stopped at the Monkey Forest, where we were surprised at how touchy the monkeys were. Wandering around, a monkey swung up onto me and had a little fiesta. Leaving the forest area, we went into town where we walked around a market. Becca still wasn’t feeling well, so we went back soon after. She slept into the afternoon, while I laid out and read by the pool. We then got massages by the pool before we headed out into the town for dinner. We walked along the beach and eventually headed back. The next morning, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before heading to the airport for Vietnam!