Anyway, on to the blog ...

We arrived here in Kuta Beach, the most popular tourist area in Indonesia, four days ago. The main reason we've stuck around so long is that good intenet connections are easy to come by here and Michael was working out the details of a job (which he got!) starting in November. It's a great oppotunity doing something he loves, and we're both really excited about it. But this is a travel blog, so back to travel ...

Kuta Beach, for all its over-done commercial tackiness (there's a Hard Rock Cafe here - need I say more?) is really a special place. Gamelan music floats out of the tourist shops, and every where you turn you find you're about to step on a tiny little, neatly arranged offering of flower petals, woven palm leaves and, for some reason, they almost always contain a Ritz cracker. The Balinese hand-create these little works of art every single morning to placate the Hindu gods, and they leave them in the middle of roads a footpaths. That they are inevitably trampled doesn't seem to matter. The pervasive but subtle smell of insence - part of the offerings - is inexorably linked to all my mental images of this place.

Kuta is a great place to shop, if you don't mind bargaining, especially for someone like me who can drift around staring at all the beautiful woodcarvings and brightly colored lush-island-style cushions and lamps for hours. It's also a great place to load up on cheap, good-quality black-market DVDs if, you know, you're the sort of person who buys those.

The beach here is nice, and apparently it's great for surfing. But there are so many unrelenting hawkers at the beach that we prefer to stay away. Actually, last night we spent some time there watching the sunset (the only time we've set foot on sand since we arrived here) and were offered everything from soft drinks to a realistic-looking handmade bow and arrow set. I'd love to know how many tourists have actually attempted to bring one of those on a plane.

Next stop, Ubud - cultural mecca of Bali and (for my mom, and anyone else who's read it,) the setting of the "love" section of "Eat, Love, Pray." I went there before and loved it, so I can't wait to see it again!]]> Fri, 04 Sep 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=86416 0 -8.65 115.2166667 From pakse our next move was south, to the small town of Champasek, to see ancient ruins of a temple from the Anchor era. So, as we were heading out of town to the bus station, we saw our bus had already left, and flagged it down as it was going past.

It was the beggining of the rainy season, and a few downpours had already taken thier toll on the unfinished road, that amounted to a wide dirt trail cut between the two small laotion towns. The old bus filled with people, rice, chickens and us was having a hard time with the road and slipped and slid, detoured off of the road and finally met its match with this muddy stretch of road.

We were pulled out in no time by some road construction workers who looked as if the spend as much time pulling people out of the mud as they do finishing the road.

After we reached Champasek, we knew that our time there was limited and went straight to the temple ruins after setting our bags down at the guesthouse.

Also, we ran into our friend Steffan randomly for the fourth time, I think. We only stayed the night in town and pressed forward the next day. Next stop, the 4000 islands. ]]> Fri, 22 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=86282 0 14.8833333 105.8666667 Sulawesi has been an amazing place on so many levels. From the Torajan funerals to the Togean Islands, I can't imagine a more exciting destination. With one more week here on this island, we decided to see what Tomahon had to offer.

Tomohon will never be the favorite of guide books and travel adventure stories, but it will definitely be a favorite of ours. There are no big monuments or historic landmarks. There is no beach or crashing waves. What Tomohon has to offer is a quiet, peaceful, beautiful little town filled with flowers and friendly folks, all in the foreground of a great big volcano covered in trees and green grass. The climate here is cool. In fact at night, its best to wear a light jacket or at least long sleeves. This comes as a welcomed change from the hot equatorial sun that has been shining hard on us for quite some time.

Perhaps the best activity in Tomohon is to go for a walk. We spent time exploring the little side streets lined with tiny houses with well kept lawns and flower gardens. We also had a nice little stroll to the foot of the great volcano, just west of town.

It's been a great last stop in Sulawesi that will not be forgotten. It gave us time to process the last month and gear up for the big move to Bali]]> Mon, 31 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=85601 0 1.3244444 124.8397222 I loved Luang Prabang. It's a diginified and lovely alien of a place, like a runaway Parisian neighborhood that started a new life in the tropics. The roads are lined with soft-hued French colonial mansions, many now turned into guesthouses, and giant shady trees. The city just begs to be the setting of some pre-war era romance novel.

Every night, locals set up matching red tents and strings of tiny lights down the middle of the city's main street. It's the most relaxed and beautiful street market I've ever seen. The sellers smile at you but never try to attract your attention, and if you ask about a price for something they give you a fair one. If you decide to buy, they're happy to do business with you. If not, they smile just the same.

And the bakeries! And REAL coffee! Don't get me wrong, I love rice, and think instant coffee mixed with condensed milk to a dark chocolate flavor really grows on you, but our few days in Luang Prabang were like a luxurious little European holiday to break up the odyssey we're undertaking.

But this is a place that begs for photos more than description, so here are ours ... ]]> Fri, 08 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=85593 0 19.8855556 102.1347222 Getting from Borneo to Sulawesi, the next island to the east, isn't as easy as one might think. There aren't any direct flights, even though there are airports all over the islands. Michael, Sebastian and I could have flown from eastern Sabah (the northern province in Borneo) west to Kuala Lumpur, then doubled back and flown east over where we'd been to eventually get to our destination. However, we like to consider ourselves intrepid, and have to consider ourselves poor. So, we hopped south across the border to the Indonesian side of this massive island and embarked on a 34-hour sea voyage on the "Bukit Rinjani," one of the gigantic ferries operated by Indonesian company Pelni.

We rode in economy class, not entirely dissimilar to a sober version of steerage class in the movie "Titanic." We're not really that hard-core; we didn't realize that you can only buy tickets in semi-private "class" cabins at actual Pelni offices, not agents' offices, and there wasn't a Pelni office in Nunukan. It turned out to be a lot of fun and a great experience, but it was some of the most intense traveling we've done.

I should note that, unlike our usual entries, I am writing this particular blog note with the main goal of helping other backpackers who might be google-ing this route. Here is my advice: first, as with all experiences in life, keep a good sense of humor and you'll enjoy yourself much more. Also, keep handy the things that help you sleep (you know, IPOD, earplugs, eye mask, motion sickness pills...) Lock everything else away. I'd heard that, but didn't lock my shoes up and someone stole them. They were good quality hiking sandals and I miss them. I mean, who steals SHOES? Oh well, I should have been more careful.

I mentioned motion sickness pills. Actually, the boat is so massive you don't feel any movement. I get seasick, but not at all on this ship. I only took the pills at night to knock me out.

Also, I have no problem using bathrooms of varying standards - I've spent too much time in Asia to be a germophobe - but these take the cake. On our second day aboard we came to the realization that, being the only foreigners on the 2000-person ferry, we automatically had some sort of special exemption from the normal rules. Use the second class bathrooms and showers! Go to the upper decks as much as possible. STAY THERE when you hear the announcement that directs everyone to their seats for the ticket check or they'll lock you (along with all the other economy passengers) below deck until they're done inspecting everyone's tickets. That's right: they lock people in, Titanic-style, several times for an hour or more each.

And, my final piece of advice: bring food. Peanut butter, bread, tuna and crackers, fruit ... whatever you like, just stock up before you get to Nunukan. The crew supplies everyone in economy with prepared meals, but even the rice is inedible. Alternatively, you could live off of Ramen noodles that you buy on board. I don't know about the stuff at the restaurants, but don't eat the free food.

Now that I've scared everyone off, I really want to express that I'm so glad we had the Pelni experience. It's the true, authentic sort of travel that connects you with the locals and hones your Bahasa Indonesia. There was an arcade, a snack bar on the top deck where people sang their hearts out to karaoke dvds, and all sorts of fun, hidden places. You can explore the levels and find all the outside places of peace and quiet, and just stare out for miles and miles across the ocean. I didn't see any dolphins, you might, but I saw the most amazing flying fish that could actually fly for several minutes.

Anyway, I recommend the journey. Have fun!]]> Tue, 04 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=85545 0 4.15 117.6333333 Muong Noi is a tiny town that most tourists to Laos miss. It sits at about the same latitude as Huay Xai (I used that city because it's closest - the map on this site doesn't list Muong Noi) but on the opposite side of the country, close to the eastern Laos border. It would just be a dusty, homely town consisting of four or five blocks-worth of slapped-together wooden buildings and narrow dirt roads, if it weren't set against a spectacular backdrop of sheer, massive cliffs and lush jungle. No road goes there; if you want to visit you have to take a boat an hour upstream from another tiny town that's vehicle-accessible.

Muong Noi's charm is in its peace, only occasionally broken by rooters. The closest thing to a traffic jam here is a couple of ducks with flocks of ducklings in a puddle in the middle of the road. It's not the kind of place where you plan your days. Michael and I wandered down paths in the forest, played in the river and relaxed.

We also, randomly, had the closest thing we experienced to a wild party night in Laos here. We had met an Australian couple the day before who had been planning to organize a trek. When we bumped into them the following day, they were sitting in a circle of plastic chairs outside a trekking office with all of its employees. Everybody was laughing, having a great time and passing beer around, and it was pretty clear that our Aussie friends' hiking plans had been derailed and they weren't too broken up about it. They asked us to join, and the party moved to someone's backyard down the road.

When we arrived at the house, one of the guys had already begun the process of killing a duck. Dinner was fresh. They served the ex-bird in courses throughout the night, bit by specially prepared bit. The heart was fine, but I drew the line at the cilantro-flavored coagulated blood. Rice and actual meat came out last.

Michael brought his guitar out and he and one of the guys took turns playing while one glass for beer circled the table. When it was your turn, you drank the contents - preferably in one gulp - and handed the glass back to the pourer who would refill it and hand it to the next person. There was no turning it down. They said that was rude, and we certainly didn't want to be rude.

Every so often, someone would said, "bi mai!" and then everyone would repeat it. It means, "happy new year!" When I asked when the actual Laotian New Year had occurred, since I had understood that it was the same time as the water party we'd attended in Thailand about a month earlier, our host replied, "oh, yes, we celebrated for two months!"

Why shouldn't New Year's just be a state of mind?]]> Mon, 04 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=85544 0 20.2781391231413 100.413837432861

This was a destination that we had been looking forward to with great anticipation. The same can not be said for the journey. To get there via Gorantalo, we took a cramped wooden ferry filled to well above capacity for about 17 hours. Our seat was especially hot, due to the fact that we were sitting right next to the motor, which put off heat approximately the temperature of Satan's bathwater. Although we were given mats to lay on for the all night journey, there was no sleeping in this oven. One cool thing about the trip was that a curious dolphin started swimming near the boat, and as we looked out the window, it took a great leap completely out of water. Enough of that, we got there. finally we got there!

And as bad as the journey might have seemed at the time, we realized in an instant that it was all worth it when we took our first step off of the boat. Actually it was even before that. As our Island was the last stop on the boat's route through to Ampana, we we're amazed as soon as we entered the vicinity of the Togeans. the sea around us turned from a dark impenetrable blue, to a crystal clear greenish shade that revealed every detail of the bottom more than 20 feet down in places.

Our final destination was the island of Kandidiri. Imagine, if you will, water so clear that in pictures it creates the illusion that there is no water.

This brings me to an addiction I've developed while on this trip. Yes, I admit I have a problem. I am completely addicted to snorkeling. I'm sure that my eventual return to Texas will result in withdrawal symptoms to rival all others. If you come to my house and ever find me in the bathtub with a snorkel sticking out and legs kicking, please just give me five more minutes.

Moving on, the snorkeling was amazing here. The diving outfit operated by the people who owned our bungalow allowed snorkelers to tag along for free. So, we took a trip with them to a neighboring island with the most incredible coral reefs. We also snorkeled everyday off the shore of our island

Rantepao is a little town smack-in-the-heart of the sprawling K-shaped island that is Sulawesi. It's up in the mountains, so the air is mercifully cool all day, even pleasantly chilly (that was a treat!) in the mornings. Michael, Sebastian and I arrived on Sunday, Aug. 9 expecting to battle throngs of tourists on package tours, like our guidebook warned. But, "touristy" in Indonesia is not like spring in South Padre. We saw other foreigners but not droves filling up the streets, and everyone seemed to be respectfully observant of the culture. Of course, we were all there hoping to luck into being part of local funeral ceremonies, so construe that as you will.

You have to understand that death for Torajans is not an end, it's just when a soul goes on a journey to a different place. When a person embarks on this journey, the Torajans believe it helps to throw a giant send-off with as many guests as possible. And you should also understand that there is a "funeral season" here. The deceased member of the family is embalmed, then sits in the family's home until the arrangements have been made for the funeral.

We spent our first couple of days soaking up the cute country-town vibe and walking around the surrounding countryside. On our second night in town, we walked into a souvenir shop and met Martin, a free-lance funeral photographer who likes to spend as much time as possible away from home, and who was happy to take us to some funerals he knew about.

We rented an extra motorbike and left early the next morning to buy a carton of cigarettes - the typical guests' gift to the deceased's family. It was a beautiful drive past gorgeous houses and rice paddies, with mountains poking up into the early-morning fog.

We attended two celebrations: a "small" two-day gathering of hundreds of villages (which we attended both days), and a "medium-large" six-day bonanza with thousands of attendants (where we only stayed for about half an hour). No one really took notice of us at the bigger one. There was already a sea of white people with telescopic cameras when we arrived. At the smaller one, however, we were eagerly greeted honored guests. I'm sure this sounds like I'm justifying a voyeuristic intrusion into someone's grief, and maybe I am since I have to admit I felt a little slimy prowling around looking for a funeral invitation, but I cannot fully express the warmth, hospitality and excitement the family of the deceased displayed at our arrival.

They were sacrificing pigs when we showed up at the first, smaller ceremony. That was ... well, disturbing, but remarkably quick and surely more humane than the way most of the pigs I eat meets their end. The men butchered the pigs on palm leaves and stuffed the meat into bamboo poles, which they put on a fire to cook with some wild herbs. It was amazing food. They also gave us some home-brewed palm alcohol, which was less delicious.

Interestingly, the family was Catholic. It's been a while since I've been to a Catholic funeral in the states, but I seem to recall them going a bit differently. Some things, it seems though, are universal: when the English-speaking family member asked about our religion, and what sort of time commitments we might have, and we confirmed that we are Catholic, she said, "oh, well in that case, you have time for communion." Good ol' Catholic guilt. Of course, we wouldn't have missed out on a Torajan funeral mass. Really, it wasn't so different, except that the kneelers were unpadded wood and there weren't any instruments.

After the mass, the family took the coffin to the forest and placed it in a prepared tomb. They thanked us again and again for sharing our time with them.

I'll post pictures soon, but right now I have to go. The poor woman at this internet cafe hasn't eaten anything all day since it's Ramaddan here, it's closing time, and I'm the only thing standing in between here and food. I'll add to this a little later.

]]> Fri, 14 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=84434 0 -2.9688889 119.8988889 With the end of our month in Laos coming quickly. We only had four days left. These four days were set aside for one purpose, to relax in the 4,000 Islands. The 4,000 Islands are an Archipelago in the middle of the Mekong river in the southern tip of Laos. It's truly amazing how this mighty river opens itself up so wide as to allow for all these islands. Also, this stretch of the Mekong is home to Irrawaddy fresh water dolphins. Only a few of these Illusive creatures are left in the world and only a few of them are known to be living in this area.

So, with relaxation and high hopes for the scenery, we set out for the island of Don Det. Don Det itself has a few restaurants and several riverside bungalows for rent at quite possibly the cheapest prices in all of The Laos P.D.R. It's a quiet place with no motor vehicles and electricity only in the late evening hours.

It was there, right on the river bank, where we found the quietest and most beautiful place to stay. Our stilted bungalow had a large porch with two hammocks and a perfect view of the evening fisherman checking their nets and fishing with bamboo poles, as the sunset turned the sky from bight blue to a million shades of pink and orange.

One of our favorite activities on the island was bicycle riding. For about a dollar a day, you can rent a bike to explore the various trails and back roads through the rice paddies and over the bridge to the neighboring island of Don Kong, were we saw the most amazing waterfall.

The food was also really nice here. There was an Indian restaurant were we ate three times. There was also a woman on one of the side trails who made the most incredible samosas. There is also an Australian guy on the island who runs a small bakery, featuring some amazing cinnamon rolls ( a rare treat in Asia).

As for those wiley dolphins, our first attempt to see them was from shore, were we sat patiently waiting for one to surface. We didn't have any luck with the dolphins that day, but we did manage to make friends with a couple of friendly puppies.

Our second attempt was a little more thought out. We and a few friends hired a boat driver to take us to prime dolphin spotting territory. It was a beautiful boat ride down the river and through the islands to our destination, a big rock in the middle of the Mekong. Here on this rock, we sat with our eyes glued on the water for two hours, waiting for our first glimpse. As good as our second plan was however, no dolphins were spotted. We were forced to resign ourselves to total relaxation for the rest of our stay. The search for the dolphins will perhaps continue another day.

All in all, it was just what we were looking for, a quiet, beautiful place to digest our Laos experience and prepare ourselves for the Cambodian adventure to come.

]]> Sat, 23 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=84432 0 13.9833333 105.9333333 Vientiane, the sprawling Laotian capital and the largest city, is home to about 160,000 people. Here you will find the only convenient stores and the only supermarket in the entire country. After being in Laos for a couple of weeks, it was a little strange to see so many varieties of candy and soft drinks. Furthermore, the were even in electric refrigerators and kept cold. Other than these extravagant luxuries, it was business as usual for the residents of Vientiane. Everyone was laid back and seemed to have little worry or stress.

In an attempt to modernize Vientiane some years ago, the U.S. government gave the money to the Laos P.D.R. to build their first international airport. It was said to be a gift to the people of Laos, to connect them to the world. It was a world that had turned its back on this quiet country so many times. So, to stick it to the man in a very French Colonial way, they gratefully accepted the money and built an almost exact replica of the famous French Arc De Triomphe (pictures will be added to this post later).

We also celebrated my birthday while we were there and we had plans to meet up with some fellow travelers. While it wasn't the feel good party you would expect on account of my stomach staging a revolt against some spoiled chicken, it was a good time. we had some of the best Indian food with some of the coolest people we've met in our travels.

It was also a great matter of luck that we were in town for the rocket festival. every year, in order to bring the rains at the end of the dry season, there are these festivals all over the country. At this time, the local people divide into teams and build enormous homemade rockets and shoot them off. They are judged for distance and style, and in the end, a champion is crowned. It was a wonderful time. it was a family affair filled with good, clean, and kinda dangerous fun as only the Laotians can do so well. ]]> Fri, 15 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=84428 0 17.9666667 102.6 Here in Borneo, in 2009, there is a group of people who are preserving age-old traditions. At the same time, they want to stay in touch with a world that is changing rapidly around them. There is a need for balance, because if they and there way of life are to survive, they must adapt and thrive without being forced into the fold of mainstream society. The forests and rivers are shrinking as fast as the cities are growing toward them. More and more of these people depend on money to buy many of there goods from town. More and more the children are growing up and moving away to the cities to find work. In spite of all of this, in small pockets all over Borneo, The Iban tribal way of life is still surviving and the Iban mentality is, in some ways, intact.

One way that many Ibans have found to earn money, is to open there homes to visitors, who want a glimpse into there world. We were lucky, not only to be invited into there world, but also to have been the first group of tourists to visit this particular family. We were fortunate enough to have been able to visit this family before they could form any opinions about what tourists want, which too often compromises there traditions. We followed this family around for three days. In these three days, they carried out there Normal daily routines.

To understand the Iban culture is to understand there home, the longhouse. The typical Iban longhouse is home to many families. They are usually one long building, divided into separate dwelling areas for each family. The longhouse is the center of their universe and the very thing that unites them all. It is the home to Iban tribes all over Borneo. This particular longhouse is home to 44 families. Everyone knows everyone and shares with everyone. The longhouse never sleeps, as the men are always coming and going to check their nets, traps, and crops. The women are perpetually cooking, as they eat more than anyone I've ever seen. Some of that could however be attributed to there legendary hospitality. No guest will ever go hungry in this longhouse. The There is a chief, who was elected 12 years ago by the families, to act as a mediator, decision maker, and an ambassador. There are also several young children, who are not old enough to work, running around and playing at all times.

Our trip started at a foggy boat pier late at night where we were greeted by two young men from the longhouse. They took us for a ride up the river in a small boat to the first longhouse, where we met our host family.

First, there was the father, who was quiet, but warm in the way he was quick to give a reassuring smile when we didn't understand what was going on. Then there were the children. There were three little ones, two boys and one girl. They were really close in age ranging from six to ten. They were also really cute. They wanted to play with us, and were really excited when we taught them how to operate our cameras. They were running around snapping off photos from floor to ceiling. They were especially excited to see there own photos on the viewing screen.

Last, but certainly not least was the mother and matriarch of the family. She was a boisterous lady who loved to entertain. She liked to dance to strange electronic karaoke music at really high volumes. She was really sweet and tried so hard to make sure we were fitting in. She especially loved Katie and liked to dress her in various Iban outfits to dance in, on of which was the most elaborate full body dress, made by hand out of the tiniest little beads. It would have taken an expert, which she clearly was, months to construct such an intricately designed garment. She even gave Katie the most beautiful necklace made by hand. She was so concerned with our happiness that she fed us seven times in one day. It's also rude to turn down food, which made it complicated. We ate ourselves miserable trying to maintain all of our manners as a show of appreciation to our host family. It was all in kindness though and we didn't have the heart to stop as she brought out dish after dish as her smile became wider and wider.

Between meals, we had the most fun. We checked the fishing nets, swam in the river, sat around drinking Tuac, the locally brewed wine made from rice, played with the children, taught a little English, learned a little Iban, and tried to learn as much as we could about our host family. We even had a meeting with the chief, who also fed us. He asked us about ourselves and answered all of our questions. Finally he told us that we were welcome back to the longhouse anytime we found ourselves in the area.

We left with an experience that was genuinely one of a kind. We made memories that will never go away, with a group of good people trying to maintain a more simple way of life.

]]> Sun, 19 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=80277 0 2.0166667 112.9333333 While making our way up the northeast coast of Borneo, Michael, James, Sebastian and I decided to make a two-day stop in Brunei. To be honest, we were as interested in the passport stamp as we were in any other aspect of this relatively-expensive, uber-moral country, but it turned out to be a really interesting, somewhat incongruous take on life in

Describing the Kingdom of Brunei requires a lot of superlatives. It's one of the planet's tiniest and richest countries, has (possibly) the most successful current monarchy and the longest currently-ruling dynasty, with a sultan who is one of the richest people in the world. His eleven-word title is also the longest title I've ever seen, and (total speculation here) he might hold some sort of world record for the number of times his picture can be viewed by one person standing in one place.

But, hey, if I lived in Brunei I'd be proud of him too. Every Brunesian gets free education, free medical care, low-interest loans, and lots of other perks like free access to sporting events and amusement parks. True, the Sultan has embarrassing amounts of money and all of these cost a pittance compared to what he gets from oil, but how many of the super-rich and powerful have used their money for such large-scale social improvement?

Unfortunately, with all the good comes suppression of freedoms and forced conformity, so I suppose their pride is actually a mixture of genuine admiration, naivety and fear of rocking the boat. There's always a downside, I suppose.

The four of us stayed in a youth hostel to save money, and unfortunately it was strictly separated by sex. That meant I had to stay in a 12 bed women's dorm room by myself while the guys stayed together. It seemed pretty funny to us to have a boys' side and a girls' side, like being back in school, but that's the way they do things. Alcohol is also illegal in the country. I suppose that's working out better there than it did in the US.

Anyway, we walked around the city, saw a beautiful mosque, had some great Indian food, took a boat tour of the floating villages on the edges of town, had some great satay, and went to a museum of all the opulent things foreign leaders have given the sultan as gifts. My personal favorites were the silver and gemstone bowls from Cambodia's king (a VERY poor country that really couldn't afford that sort of present) and two inlaid matching coffee tables with pictures of identical tigers made out of precious stones. Classy.

The kids at the floating village loved James' tatoos

On an unrelated note, here's a picture of one of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen, taken in Miri, the city we stayed in just before going to Brunei. Enjoy!

In preparation, we rented tents, loaded up on groceries and supplies, and got our snorkel gear ready. Then it was off to the pier to catch our boat to paradise

After we arrived, we knew that this island get away was just what we had been needing after a long stretch of traveling across Borneo. We spent time snorkeling, swimming, cooking over a fire, and we went for a little walk on the second afternoon. The first time we got in the water, Katie was bitten by a little fish. I saw him through my mask, and he couldn't have been three inches long. However, he left an amazingly big mark on her leg.

Apart from the mini attack, everything was perfect, in that we had nothing else to do but relax. In a place like Mamutik, time doesn't matter. There is only one schedule and it's determined by your stomach, which we had no problem keeping full.

]]> Sat, 01 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=80107 0 5.9833333 116.0666667 If anyone is still checking this blog, hello! And, sorry for the long hiatus. Despite the heading, Michael and I are actually in Kota Kinabalu, the capitol of one of the two Malaysian states on the island of Borneo. The city is named after nearby Mount Kinabalu, one of the highest mountains in Southeast Asia. Our original plan was to climb the mountain, but since we discovered that there is a two-month waiting list for that, we're going to an island to snorkel and camp instead. Life can be so rough.

Anyway, since it has been so long since we've updated, I decided to dedicate this blog entry to one of my favorite experiences of the last few months, and really a major highlight of the trip so far: the 3-day music festival in the rainforest near Kuching, Borneo. Hence the incorrect city and entry date information above.

The festival brought amazingly talented bands from all over the world together to Sarawak Cultural Village, a venue with stages built right into the edge of the jungle and ancient-style traditional houses for daytime workshops. It was a beautiful setting to see the way people express themselves through music, from preserving dying musical traditions to creating brand-new fusions of styles, from every corner of the globe.

I particularly liked a Malaysian/Indian/Australian band that played all sorts of music, from traditional Malaysian songs to jazz. They were really cool, I bought their CD. Michael's favorite band was a Portuguese traditional/hard rock group. There was also an awesome band from Tanzania that, according to the emcee, had to walk three days to reach the airport to get to the festival. They made all their own instruments out of electrical cords and wires and other found objects, and played with so much unbridled joy and energy it was contagious.

Speaking of contagious, the orgaziners were clearly worried about starting an international H1N1 outbreak and talked about face masks and hand santizer at every opportunity. It added a weird kind of surrealism to the events, especially when they asked everyone in the crowd to wear a mask while they took an audience picture. PR, I guess?

... well THAT defeats the purpose a little, don't you think?

Anyway, we didn't come down with swine/bird/monkey or any other type of flu. Even if we had, it would have been worth it. We met some really incredible people, spent a long weekend in gorgeous surroundings, learned a lot about music, and just crazy amounts of fun dancing barefoot in the mud to exotic music.
]]> Sun, 12 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=79560 0 1.55 110.3333333 Cambodia (despite what the title says)

Hello again family and friends. I would like to first give a shout out to Evan Michael Nachman, my newest nephew. I hope your first week of humanhood is all you expected it to be.
I'd also like to apologize for the long gap between postings. As we make our way through the more remote regions, internet use becomes more and more difficult. Small interrnet cafes can be found occasianaly, but the connections are usually painfully slow. the most amusing part however is that some of them have chickens roaming through the shops as you type.
Right now, we are waiting for a bus to take us to Ban Lung, so I'm afraid I only have time to let everyone know that we are okay and having a great time. We have so many stories and photos that we are dying to share with you. Oops, the guy just said that the bus is leaving
Bye]]> Wed, 27 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=67136 0 11.55 104.9166667 Luang Nam Tha, in Northern Laos, is a little town by any standard. Not much can be seen in this dusty little strip, besides a small market, a few guest houses, and a restaurant or too. It borders the Nam Ha National Forest, and for this reason, it's a great place for jungle adventures or kayaking down the Nam Tha River.

We had just rolled into town and were looking for something cool to do that was low impact for my foot, which is healing nicely, when we were approached by an Australlian girl named Megan. Megan was trying to recruit people to come with her Kayaking, to dramatically lower the cost. So we and four of the coolest people we've met in our travels, said yes. There was Leigh and Bryce from South Africa, Ian from Scotland, and Steffan from Austria.

The next day we started our adventure from the landing point near town. We zig-zagged back and forth, got hung in trees and rocks, and turned our boat around and around in circles, in attempt to follow the straight path ahead of us. Everything we did counter acted the efforts of the other, until we had to stop and take a good look at our technique. Finally after much trial and error, we were headed down the river with great precision. Okay, maybe not great prescision. It was more like average precision, but we were much happier. On the first day, we paddled 20 km through scenic forest views, stopping along the way at little villages of hill tribe people.

At long last, we reached ther village were we would be staying the night. We were greeted by a group of about 20 young children with wide smiles, eagerly lined up to say hello. About 5 minutes later, when all the pleasentries were over, they grabbed our boat paddles, stripped down, and made a mad dash for the kayaks. It was like Christmas. They were piling in boats, racing them, splashing each other, flipping them over, and constantly laughing. A few of us coudn't resist their friendly invitation to play with them. It was absolute chaos. Everyone was splashing and jumping around like we were all the same age (about 7). We played and played until we were all completely worn out. After this we spent a couple of hours teaching them card games and showing them our photos, much to their amazment. It was so much fun. Then, when was time for the children to head to thier homes, the chief himself showed up to share a wonderful traditional meal and a lot of homemade whiskey (not as good as the meal) until it was time for bed.

The next morning, we we all woke up sore from a long day, but ready to press on. It was a bit more relaxing than the first day, as we stopped many times on the way to swim or just take in the sights. All in all it was a great experience, a great workout, and a chance to get to know some great people. Great.

I'm sorry for the lack of photos. The internet conection is so slow. Check again soon
]]> Sat, 02 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=60653 0 19.8855556 102.1347222 (** I was just scrolling through the blog entries and realized I wrote this one three months ago, saved it as a draft and never published it. Oops! Oh well, here you go! :)

Strolling down the road on our evening in Houay xay, I noticed little dogs running around everywhere, baguettes and french pastries for sale in shops, and little old men knocking around at a French version of bowling for evening entertainment ... where are we again? Here, only minutes across the Mekong river from Thailand, evidence of the strong French influence in this far-flung corner of former French Indochina is unmistakable. And it is definitely welcome.

Michael and I arrived in Laos after a pretty unpleasant trip from Pai, and we decided to catch our breath for a night in the border town rather than follow our plan to immediately depart for our next destination. We didn't expect much from the stop, but we ended up spending a wonderful evening with a really lovely French woman named Saundie who kept commenting that being in Laos was "really a dream come true" for her.

She was fascinated with everything she saw, and she told us that she has grown up with romantic visions of Laos and has always wanted to visit. I can't remember hearing anything about this country when I was young, so talking with her helped me feel her passion for this place. I imagine it must be similar to how I felt when I left America for the first time and landed in Paris, one America's most romanticized cities.

After dinner, the three of us sat by the Mekong for about an hour, talking and watching the murky river roll along. Then we made our way back up the hill to walk along the main road in town. When we got to the road, she started laughing with surprise: she saw two little old men playing pletanque, a very French game she had grown up playing with her family. She asked them about it, and they invited us to play with them. Basically, there's a small ball, and then you throw some larger heavy balls as close to it as possible. It was so much fun, even though I was really bad at it.

All in all, I had an unexpectedly great time in this little stop-over town, and I can't wait to see the rest of this country!]]> Mon, 27 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=60626 0 20.2781391231413 100.413837432861 The teeny-tiny town of Pai is about 5 square blocks of peace, adventure, and great dining in the northern Thai hills, and it has been our home and place of convolescence for the last week and a half. We've stayed here longer than planned, due to a now-healed sprain Michael suffered while we were hiking through the jungle last week, but if we could have chosen any place we've been to get stuck, this would be it. As our new Aussie friend Kaz put it, this place exudes rejuvenation.

This is a sleepy, charming place with voluminous menus at almost every restaraunt, and those that limit themselves to about 20 dishes or so make them in earnest. I've had the best Thai food I've ever tasted, along with the best cheeseburger I can remember in years, and lots and lots of amazing fruit mixed with yogurt and granola or just blended with ice into shakes. I don't know if I've ever eaten healthier or felt better.

Poor Michael is also feeling great again, although he twisted his foot while we were on the first day of a two-day jungle trek, about an hour and a half from the village where we were to spend the night. He limped the rest of the way there and, though we were both terrified he had broken a bone, I think he enjoyed the hike as much as he had before his mishap. I kept looking back to check on him, and he kept telling me to walk ahead of him and to look at some flower, interesting plant or butterfly along the trail.

Up until that point, it was amazing. Well, okay, it was amazing after that point too, but I was a little too distracted watching him wince in pain to continue feeling as awe-struck by the beauty of our surroundings. We walked through what felt like 4 different ecosystems, from a tragically burned-out former forest, to a bamboo forest, to a true jungle, and then the next day I walked alone with our guide through what looked like a North American-type oak forest. Michael's foot had swollen and he couldn't walk, so he rode on the back of a villager's motorbike down potholed, dissapearing and reappearing trails to the nearest car-accessible village.

We hiked about 10 miles the first day in 100 degree-plus heat, but a lot of it was along a river and under the jungle canopy so that cooled us down. It took us about 7 hours to reach the village, including our stops, because of the heat and the fact that a lot of our path was uphill. Since completing the hike, I'm pretty sure I'm superwoman.

Along the way, our guide showed us wild ginger, cumin, grapefruit, dung beetles and other edibles, and he could identify several species of birds by their calls. He also pointed out orchids growing on the branches of trees, and he seemed to be able to name everything we saw in English.

We spent the night in a hilltribe village. The people who owned the home we stayed in were really nice, but we couldn't help but notice how very, very few possesions they had. I probably have three times as much stuff in my huge backpack as they have in their whole home, and that is not an exaggeration. In their yard, they had some chickens, a cow and a couple of dogs, and inside it looked like they had nothing but a couple of outfits, some cooking utensils and a mat and mosquito net for sleeping. I don't think they would consider themselves particularly poor, though; they just lead a simple life and don't have much need for things.

When our guide, Micheal and I met up in another village on the second day, we cut our trip short and drove back to Pai. Our guide, whose name sounds like "Some-sock", kindly drove us to the hospital. Man, there is nothing in the world like spending a day in a rural Thai hospital to make you feel glad to be from a fully developed country. We heard one child screaming while several nurses held him down and pulled glass out of his knee without any anesthesia - it made me feel ill. I watched a gurney roll past with blood stains on the sheets. Luckily, Michael didn't have any open wounds and they had an x-ray machine, which showed his bones were all intact. They gave him some muscle relaxers, super-doses of ibuprofen and tylenol, crutches and a sort of half-cast that went under his foot, held on by an ace bandage.

He's walking normally now, so we're about to jump on an overnight bus to the Laos border, which we will cross tomorrow. Next time you hear from us, we'll be out of Thailand (moms, feel free to breathe your sighs of relief) and in sleepy little Laos. Internet isn't as common there, I think, so it might be a little bit before we write again.

Gotta run, so I'll post pictures of Pai, our trek, some nearby waterfalls and our elephant ride soon. I hope everything is going well with you all! Michael sends his love too.

]]> Sun, 26 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6004 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=59389 0 19.3166667 98.45
Or, in English, Happy New Year!

Happy Thais in a jeep who wanted us to take their picture

A second after I took this picture, she re-thought her attack plan and squirted straight into my face

Michael and friends

Songkran means "passing into", and it's celebrated in Laos, Myanmar and Cambodia under different names. Here, it occurs at the end of the dry season, and it's a massive water party in the hopes that all that good-spirited water warfare will bring blessings of lots of rain during the rainy season. It's also a religious holiday, when the monks bless the statues of Buddha. Mostly, though, it's an all-out sopping wet party in the streets throughout the country, and nowhere is the party more rockin' than in Chiang Mai.

Surprise attack!

Killer instinct

I can't remember when I've had more silly, ridiculous fun. My favorite part was watching the children get so excited about chasing people down with buckets that were almost too heavy for them to carry.

like a crispy, thin pancake made from lots of strings of batter. It was yummy.

Coconut ice cream in a coconut

Shooting on the run

Oh, and the best part: you get to make resolutions again! So, it doesn't even matter that mine (staying better in touch) never really got off the ground in January. World, get ready for a whole new, e-mail-whipping-out Katie! But, world, please don't set your expectations too high. I'm still drying off.

Drenched

Katie zip-lining

Starting off not too high off the ground, the first leap is a cinch. From there, each trip you take is higher and higher until the forest floor becomes a frightening distance away. For us, it was a thrill and a chance to see parts of the rainforest that would be imposible to see otherwise.

The most impressive part for me was seeing how big some of these trees really are.

Big tree or tiny people?

We have some videos that are worth a look, but we can't upload them here. As for now, I hope the pictures will do.