The Last Hurrah... [Bangkok, Thailand]

To quickly summarize since our last post:

We hung out on Koh Phi Phi and took it easy, hoping to soak up enough rays to last us through the harsh Canadian winter we're about to face *dun dun DUN*. We were able to go diving one last time, which was terrific because one of the sites was a shipwreck that had sunk about ten years prior. No sunken treasure or grinning skulls, but there was a toilet. Good to see that if you're diving and you gotta go, you have options (there is an ancient scuba diver saying: "there are those that pee in their wetsuit, and there are those that lie about it"). There was tons of fish life and, along with cuttlefish, ghost fish (related to the seahorse) and squid, we saw Three leopard sharks. Or else the same leopard shark three times. Either way, it was very cool.

And now we're in Bangkok, shopping our brains out and preparing for our journey home. Cheesy as it may sound, it has to be said: what a long strange trip it's been. To everyone we've met on the road: thank you for making this a better year than we could have possibly imagined. And to everyone we left behind: we can't wait to see you again. While the shock of it is still setting in, and it will probably take a few days for us to actually wrap our heads around everything that's happened in 2010, we are starting to have a few realizations about all that we've seen and experienced. The obvious is that we are so much luckier in so many ways that we could ever have imagined, and there is so much (and so many people) that we take for granted. Additionally, life is what you choose to make it, and there are so many more adventures waiting to be had...

Love to all,
S and $.

The Next-To-Last Hurrah...

After doing absolutely nothing on Koh Lanta for a week or so, we headed off to Singapore where we... well, continued to do absolutely nothing.

In our defense, we did get out that first night and most of the second day to do our usual new-city-wanderings. The city went right over the top with a dazzling X-mas light display that lit up the streets like... well, you know. It was pretty, although we didn't know that hot pink was a traditional X-mas colour (nor that X-mas trees came in Tiffany's-box-blue), but there is something weird about hearing Mariah Carey's holiday cd being pumped inside Starbucks while wandering the streets in flip flops.

Singapore, we concluded, would be Ned Flanders' utopia. Okay, perhaps it's missing a church and a left-handed store on every block, but other than that it's modern, efficient, and so clean you could probably give birth in the middle of the street without fear of infection. It also boasts to be one of the safest cities in the world. This is probably due to its incredibly harsh judicial system, which still implores the death penalty for ANY drug offense and hands out fines, jail time and medieval-style lashings (yes, Lashings) for anything from chewing gum to eating on the subway. Although we did see a few high school girls imbibing a couple of Smarties while on the metro--those hooligans!!

Unfortunately, all this sanitation and law-abiding makes Singapore feel somewhat... well, soulless. Wandering around, each of the ethnic neighbourhoods seems remarkably like the others, except for the physical skin colour of the inhabitants. Perhaps this is partially due to the fact that a large part of the population are young urban professionals who move to Singapore for a couple of years to make money before returning to their own country to start a family. As a result, there are plenty of hip shopping malls and somewhat pretentious clubs, but little true character. The affluence, both of the individuals and the city itself, is visible everywhere--from the $14 cocktails to the immaculate gardens. It's almost a strange sight, after nearly a year of traipsing around Nepal, India, Cambodia, etc.

In any case, we actually spent the majority of our time in Singapore sitting in a modern, air conditioned apartment watching cheesy wedding shows and eating ice-cream. So I suppose we can't complain Too much...

Since then, we've come to Koh Phi Phi. Normally, we'd be running around doing the usual ridiculous things that tourists do on Thai islands, but unfortunately our bodies appear to have given up on us and we're both down with head colds. However, we can't complain Too much--we've had an excellent run in southeast Asia.

See you all very soon!!

Enjoying Quiet Evenings Drinking Camomile Tea Over Scrabble...

...er, or something like that.

From Cambodia, we hit up Koh Tao, which was in the midst of doing its best "Lost City of Atlantis" impression when we arrived. Fortunately, after a few days the rains and flooding subsided (not before washing many a flip flop out to sea) and we were able to sneak in at least a few days of sunshine. Our main raison d'etre in Koh Tao (other than keeping the local bar economy in good working order) was to complete our Advanced Level diver's course. What actually ended up happening was that Sara completed our Advanced Level diver's course for the two of us, and I showed up and smiled when appropriate. Thanks, Sara :) The diving conditions weren't the greatest (of course, we now consider ourselves to be right spoiled dive brats after the Philippines and especially Flores), but despite that we still had one of the greatest diving experiences to date during our night dive:

It was absolutely unreal. Chaos at first as we descended into the depths. You couldn't see Anything; you may as well have been launching yourself down a black hole, nay for the small circles of light illuminated by yours and your fellow divers' torches. As a result, you experienced your world as a mosaic of beacons of fish and coral amidst the blackness. It was completely disorienting and bizarre and really should have scared the wetsuits off us, but for some reason we felt so calm, so relaxed. But the absolute best part took place when we all switched our torches off and, completely engulfed in blackness, we played in the bioluminessence. Billions upon billions of green sparkles twinkled and swirled around us, as though the galaxy itself was dancing for us. We flipped and spun and flapped our arms like idiots, giddy at what is truly one of the most simultaneously exciting and humbling sights we have ever seen. Our instructor wiggled so hard that soon we were able to see him completely silhouetted in green sparkles. It was by far one of--if not the most--incredible experiences we'd had in the last ten months. Eat your heart out, Discovery Channel.

From Koh Tao, we went to Koh Phangan for the Full Moon party. And there was enough hedonism going on to make the ancient Greeks themselves blush. The parties on the beach lasted until dawn, and boasted massive mounds of foam bubbles, giant slides, tightrope walkers, fire twirlers, fire skipping rope (which I learned the hard way not to play with... fortunately, Sara was there yet again to save the day with ointment and bandages--really, I don't think a year with me actually counts as a year "off" from nursing), various dancing stages blasting different songs (or rather, the same eight songs at different times), and of course more bars selling plastic pails of vodka-redbull than you could shake a body-paint-covered-paintbrush at. From what we can recall of it, it was an excellent week, especially since we were able to meet up with friends from Cambodia.

Since then, we have dragged our battered bodies to Koh Lanta, which is far more chilled out and an excellent place to recover. We have spent the last few days moving only from the poolside to the restaurant to the masseuse's table, popping vitamins like candy. As our visas expire shortly, we're off to Singapore in a few days ("what do you mean, we need to wear SHOES?!?!?!") and then it's back to the beach before we return to snowy Toronto (yes, we've seen the recent photos!!). And as much as we are enjoying our final days of sea and sun, we are really missing you all and can't wait for big hugs at the airport.

Lots of love,
S and $.

''May we have some peanut butter with this jelly...fish?" And other antics in Cambodia

So:

After Siem Reap, we hopped on a boat and spent six hours passing floating villages while we sunbathed on the roof and dodged the branches of watertrees that whipped at us and showered us with ants. This was in order to arrive in Battambang, which is not an Italian pizzaria as the name may suggest, but rather a small town nestled amdist rice fields where headscarved peasants laboured beneath sun and dust and lush forests concealing thousands of unexploded landmines. As per usual, there were more temples than you could shake a stick (of incense) at.

We visited the Killing Caves, which is where Khmer Rouge soldiers would throw the dead (or dying) bodies of bludgeoned victims. Shafts of sunlight illuminated a platform where an old man knelt by a large golden Buddha selling sticks of incense to be lit in solomn tribute. A glass case nearby housed the shattered skulls and bones of victims. A natural stone staircase led down into the belly of the damp cave, illuminated only by the flickering candles we held, and it would have been an incredibly chilling experience had a young boy not skipped head, his mother yelling at him to for-goodness'-sakes-be-CAREFUL while her cellphone chirped a tinkly tune. Thus, Cambodia: past and present.

Next, we explored one of the many temples, the grounds of which actually included a labrynth of small caves, each concealing a golden Buddha in its shadows. Our guides included two local boys as well as a chainsmoking monk-turned-photographer-turned-model, Mr. Ned (no, seriously), who commandered our cameras and insisted our journey be documented every fifteen feet.

From Battambang, we endured an incredibly long bus journey (made especially arduous by the Cambodian wedding kareoke vidoes played at top volume on repeat) to Sihanoukville. Sihanoukville is a beach town, and we took full advantage by befriending a group of fellow backpackers, soaking up the sun, enjoying the nightlife, and doing absolutely nothing of any cultural value whatsoever. Jet skis, inflatable bouncy floaty things to flip off of, endless movie afternoons, Halloween celebrations (for which Sara was the white ninja and I was Facebook), boat cruises, artery-clogging Western cuisine; it was grand.

One (mis)adventure to note was when one of our friends, while attempting to drown another friend, was suddenly smoten by karma and stung by a white jellyfish the size of a beachball. Awful as it was at the time, there's something undeniably funny about a twenty-something-year-old Irish man lying on the beach screaming at the top of his lungs: "For f***'s sake, somebody wee on me!!!" In fact, the only thing that could've (and did) top it was the English girl who loyally squatted and proved her friendship in front of a beach full of slack-jawed onlookers. Of course, as it turns out, peeing on a jellyfish sting--contrary to what that episode of 'Friends' may have led us to believe--actually doesn't help in the slightest. But it does make for a great Facebook status. Fortunately, our friend was alright in the end (if not slightly smelly), though the lashes on his legs remained ugly and bleeding for days and will certainly leave some fierce battle scars.

Eventually, we managed to drag ourselves away from our new friends and our life of hedonism and hit up Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital. There, the mood of our trip took a drastic turn as we visited the Killing Fields, the spot where approximately 20 000 Cambodians were executed during the Khmer Rouge war. If you ignore the 17-level glass stupah housing skulls and bones, the area looked almost like a golf course, covered in grassy dips. These dips, however, were mass graves--the largest of which held 450 bodies that had been forcefully decomposed with DDT. In one, all the bodies had been decapitated; another was filled with naked women and children. There was the tree where babies and small children had been literally smashed to death against--a few teeth remained at its base. As we walked, we could see bits of clothing poking up through the dirt. Apparently, every time it rained, maintenance had to go through and collect bones and other bits that were washed to the surface. In fact, half of the area remained a swamp; graves that hadn't yet been exhumed. However, possibly the worst element of the place was the strange smell that lingered over the area, and the hundreds of flies buzzing about incongruously.

We also went to S-21, a highschool turned interrogation camp where victims were tortured for information under orders of the Pol Pot regime. Classrooms had been divided into tiny cells with wood or bricks. Any open area on the upper floors was concealed behind barbed wire to prevent victims from committing suicide by jumping. Shackles remained, as did the mugshots of the over five thousand victims (including children) who passed through--like the Nazis, the Khmer Rouge kept detailed records of those kept in the camps. There were also grainy photos of the dead, as they had been found.

Something that struck us about both the Killing Fields and S-21 was how fresh it all still felt. While obviously the majority of the carnage had been cleared away, the fact that there were still bones on the ground and stains on the wall voiced the fact that this was not Long Long Ago, legends of evil men in evil times, but rather atrocities that had been committed just over the shoulder of time. And the survivors of this holocaust were not frail grandmothers with unwravelling minds, but rather Average Joes who continue to drive the tuk-tuks that tourists take to visit these places. You could write off why the spots haven't been totally cleaned up and fully transformed from 'Site' to 'Museum' (as now they linger somewhere between the two) as due to slow Cambodian progress--but perhaps it's almost intentional, a way of reminding everyone of just how recent this was, of how it occurred not in another time but in OUR time.

Today we fly to Bangkok, leaving behind jellyfish-ridden beaches, historical grounds, vogue-ing monks, great friends, and some of the coolest temples we have ever seen. So long, Cambodia--it's been awesome! :)

Angkor What? [Cambodia]

But first: before we left Chiang Mai, we did a day trip around the area. As well as hiking, riding elephants, visiting an orchid farm, and partaking in something that was less whitewater rafting and more brownwater rafting, we visited the Long Neck tribe. Originally from Burma, the women coil gold around their necks in order to crush their collarbones and shoulders to give the illusion of a longer neck. The first coil is applied at five years old, and is changed to a longer one every five years until the age of twenty five. The coils are seen as a status symbol; they make the women desirable. It was pretty odd to see, these girls tottering around like petite giraffes. Unfortunately, the visit itself was a bit awkward--we did not go into the village, but instead wandered around a collection of stalls where they were selling their wares. You could tell that they were pretty bored of tourists showing up and snapping photos, and somewhat disgruntled at the fact that we were more interested in their necks than the scarves they were selling (now, the question is, were the scarves longer than regular scarves as well? We'll never know...)

After a succession of epic bus journeys, we made it from Thailand to Siem Reap in Cambodia. You could tell immediately that Cambodia is not nearly as wealthy as its neighbour--the roads are often dirt, and kids try desperately to sell cheap bracelets, or beg for food outside the 7-11. It's difficult to watch. Similarly difficult is the number of musicians lacking limbs playing for change--victims of Cambodia's landmines, hundreds of which remain unexploded in the countryside, making a walk off the beaten path an extremely dangerous undertaking. We also noticed how many young Cambodians there are: the average age for the country is just twenty two! This, of course, is largely due to the horrific war involving the Khmer Rouge in the 70s.

We had come to Siem Reap for the same reason that everyone does--to temple-hop--and we began with the granddaddy of them all: Angkor Wat. The size was what struck us initially. It would be a massive structural complex had it been created now--being built nearly a thousand years ago just made that all the more impressive. With three large towers and detailed bas-reliefs, it was originally created as a Hindu place of worship, but over the years shifted to encompass Buddhism as well (Buddhism being the official religion of Cambodia). It had been quite well-maintained, and reminded us a lot of Borobudur on Java.

Next, we visited the temples in Angkor Thom which, although they aren't nearly as famous nor as large as the temples in Angkor Wat, absolutely trumped their more famous counterpart in our eyes. One temple was covered in towers on which four large-and-in-carved faces of Buddha watched serenely over the four directions. Another temple had been completely taken over by moss and trees, with roots as fat as anacondas slithering between the cracks and draping over doorways like curtains. These temples hadn't been as protected over the years--piles of stones lay as rubble as walls collapsed beneath the elements, and the ceilings looked as though they could give way at any moment. In any other country, these places would have been surely condemned, left as the luxury of hard-hatted and well-insured anthropologists. But hey, welcome to Cambodia. In fact, there were moments where these temples appeared almost "too" ancient-ruins-ish, as though they were right off the set in Indiana Jones. Incidentally, the movie Tomb Raider was filmed at one of the sites we visited.

When we first arrived in Siem Reap, we were worried that we'd been templed out over the last eight months, spoiled, and that we wouldn't appreciate these places for what they are. And, admittedly, Angkor Wat did feel somewhat like that. But these smaller temples were truly awe-inspiring and magnificent; reaching above and beyond any expectation we may have held for them.

Of course, we celebrated this beauty by taking tons of ridiculous posed photos with a Dutch guy we met. Hey, can you think of a better way to show your appreciation for some of the finest religious architecture in the world than re-enacting ninja fights? We thought not.

Lions and Tigers and Bea--No, Seriously, TIGERS. [Chiang Mai, Thailand]

We've been in Thailand now nearly a week and, as it turns out, there's more to this country than golden buddhas and bling'ed out ladyboys.

First, we took part in something called Flight of the Gibbon. Weirdly, it involved neither flying nor gibbons. Instead, it comprised of numerous zip lines running between platforms just below canopy-level of the rainforest. They'd hook you on and watch you scream as you went zip(line)ing past the leaves with a wedgie of thunderous porportions, hoping you didn't take a branch to the face. Great times, we swear.

Next, we did something that, one day, we will gather our grandchildren around our rocking-chair (which surely will be "hover" by then) and regale them with, probably for the hundreth time: We crawled into a pen with live tigers!! No, it was not some sort of grandiose suicide stunt. We were at the Tiger Kingdom, which was created both as a sanctuary for the animals and to allow tourists to engage in such shanigans. There were four different pens we (nervously) entered. The first consisted of newborns, who were approxamitely the same size as spoiled housecats; the second were 6 mo.s and about the size of very large dogs; the third were a year and about the size of circus ponies; and the fourth were full grown at two years, and about the size of... er... couches. [Yikes]. Most of the tigers were dozing as it was the heat of the day, which made it easier to crawl up to them and lie on them (yes, ON them) for photos. However, unlike the Tiger Temple in Bangkok where tigers are chained and sedated, these fantastical felines wereneither. We saw many playing around and jumping on each other and doing whatever it is tigers do when they're not posing for BBC documentaries. The entire time, we couldn't help thinking to ourselves: how the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is this LEGAL?? And, more importantly, does our health insurance cover this?? Told you this was a story for the grandkids. Of course, by then they'll all have robo-tigers as pets and it won't be nearly as exciting, but hey.

Today, we decided that we'd had enough adrenalin for a little while and decided to go for something a little more mom-approved: Thai cooking class. What can we say other than *lip smacking noise*? It began with a trip to the market where we learned about local veggies and herbs. Then, in the small kitchen in the garden we cooked--nay, we birthed! we breathed life into!--the following: pad-thai, chicken/tofu and coconut soup (which was really unusual but delicious), fried spring rolls, fresh spring rolls, prawn salad, papaya salad, red curry, Thai peanut curry, and banana/pumpkin in coconut milk for dessert. And, we're proud to report that nobody was poisoned and/or set on fire :) Actually, the meals were absolutely scrumptious, and we were stuffed to the sinuses by the end.

Wherever We Go, There We Are... or something like that.

Firstly, apologies regarding the slack in the blog department... (I'm typing, Sara, I'm typing!! Please, put down the rolled up newspaper!! *thwack* ...just kidding)

Since our last post, we crossed over from Indonesian Borneo to the Malaysian side. What a difference. Suddenly, everything became... shiny. On the one hand, we felt we'd lost a bit of the "roughin'-it" backpacker points. On the other hand, there was a Pizza Hut. Tough call. We didn't spend much time in M. Borneo. Just long enough to go for a hike in Bako National Park and watch the one-clawed crabs wrestle each other like football hooligans in a pub, and swap ghost stories with the locals in the hostel (can you guess which one of us slept soundly that night and which one was too scared to get up and go to the bathroom?).

From there, we flew to KL for a couple days. And we're not embarrassed to admit that the highlight was our trip to the mall where we ran around blowing soap bubbles and giving ourselves make-overs with the testers from the make-up counter. Looking primped and pimpin', we flew to Laos. Funny: while filling out our arrival cards, we discovered--to some unease and awkwardness--that one of the questions they asked was "race." Most people cheated and wrote what country they were from, but we all knew what they were really asking (esp. because "nationality" was already on there). Props to the Irish dude who was the only one who had the guts to write "white."

After landing in the capital of Vietiane, we took a bus straight to Vang Vieng. Sara, being the brave and athletic one, decided to play Spider-Man and do a bit of rock climbing (while I, the wimpy one, stayed in bed feeling "iffy"). But even she, with her Amazonian-woman strength and gibbon-like nimbleness, reported it to be "terrific, but freakin' HARD dude!!" We also went tubing which is where, essentially, you float down the river in a giant inner tube. There are bars on either bank which throw lines and tow you in for a drink or twelve. Ridiculous? Perhaps. Ridiculously AWESOME? Indeed. Unfortunately, riding the river is not without cost. I had injured my toenail about a month ago when I was suddenly sprung upon by a highly aggressive rock on Komodo Island (okay, okay, so I kicked it, whatever) and whilst mid-tube my toe and nail decided to part ways. Sara promises it'll grow back, but then sniggers in a way that makes me somewhat suspicious of her claims... hey Sar, if it doesn't, can I have one of yours?

Next was Luang Prabang (aren't Laosian names fun?), which as a town consists of monks in marigold-coloured togas scurrying quietly between French colonial architecture while women hawk fruit smoothies, paper lanturns and cloth watches at the night market. Actually, we went a little overboard at said night market (in retrospect, I suppose I really didn't Need five lanturns... hey, Sara bought Pillow Cases!!!) and then realised it was going to cost $80 to mail $25 worth of stuff home. *ahem* Needless to say, there were a few unanticipated gifts left for our guesthouse owner.

From there, we took a slow boat down the Mekong River for two days to the Thai border. The slow boat is sort of like one really long veranda, and all the seats have been taken from a Honda minivan. Strange. The scenery was gorgeous; hills of lush jungle, small villages with thatch-roofed homes on stilts, naked children bathing on the banks, women standing fully clothed chest-deep fishing with large Chinese-style nets. After crossing the boarder, we headed straight for Chiang Mai, which is where we are now. And, while the rest of you were sitting down to your turkey and stuffing, we celebrated Thanksgiving with a plate of pad-thai eat... just like the pilgrims did, right?