Biking Ben Tre

It was at Ben Tre that the Viet Cong ambushed the Army of the Republic of Vietnam during the Tet Offensive. So the town probably doesn't leap into people's minds as a viable vacation spot. Over 40 years later, Ben Tre is a picturesque river town best viewed from the seat of a bike.

A town of about 100,000 residents, Ben Tre is more laid than Chau Doc and Can Tho. No one hassled us about a moto ride when we arrived at the bus station; we had to hunt one down ourselves! Our guesthouse, Phuong Hoang, has a breezy terrace overlooking lovely Truc Giang Lake. The man-made lake is ringed by trees,cafes, and quirky trash cans shaped like penguins.

Besides the manufacturing of coconut candy, Ben Tre does not possess any specific tourist draws. I enjoy walking around town observing people engaging in their everyday lives without the hassles that plague more touristed towns. Many residents appear to have a higher socioeconomic status here than in Chau Doc or Can Tho. There are the merchants stooped over their wares at markets but locals playing volleyball, children painting pictures, and adults exercising by the lake are also visible. It is probably because tourism is still new in Ben Tre that people stare at Laura and I everywhere we go. Children call out "Hello!" to us, breaking into grins and giggles when we answer.

Best meal award goes to Nam Son restaurant, which serves plump shrimp, and a variety of tasty veggies along with the best pepper I've ever had over a bed of rice. At the local market, I purchase an entire pineapple, already carved and ready to eat for about 30 cents. And the grocery store even have Snickers!

One morning we rent (the only!) two wobbly bikes from the town's sleepy tourist building. We cross the bridge away from the urban area into the rustic settlement on the other side of the Mekong. Palm fronds brush the top of my head as I wind along narrow pathways and concrete bridges over muddy waters. Children dressed in school uniforms amble by, dogs lounge in a patch of sun, and women chat while leaning against their bicycles. I see stacks of coconuts on the riverbank and trees heavy with prickly jackfruit. Some of the homes consist of the typical thatch construction I've seen but others are sturdy cottages painted in pastel colors. We discover a lovely yellow temple in the woods, decorated with wood carved swans. Pedaling beneath the clear blue sky and lush landscape, I am flooded with happiness from the simple pleasures of Ben Tre.

Can Tho

Upon entering the most disgusting bathroom of my life (hole dark brown from recent deposit, wet floor, clammy air, adjacent to a cement block filled with dead flies floating on top of putrid water) I discover a rottweiler is chained in the stall next door, barking ferociously. Laura, outside, says he's chained but neither of us is sure how long the chain is. I peek from behind the door and see his snarling snout to my left. Terrified, I take a deep breath, open the door, and sprint toward the van. He barks in a frenzy, teeth gnashing but the metal chain pulls tight. Thank God!

The remainder of the journey from Chau Doc to Can Tho is a madcap adventure filled with several moments of "air time" where my butt lifts off my seat. At one point, our van nearly collides with a red bus. Driving in Vietnam is on the right, but you would never know it we spend so much time in the left lane passing other vehicles, only returning to the right lane to avoid on-coming traffic at the last second. "Isn't this insane?" I comment to the French girl next to me in the very back row. "It's ok" she returns "If we get hit it will only crush the ones in front."

We finally arrive in Can Tho and decide to sooth our nerves with a massage. Wanting to contribute money to a good cause, we choose a place that employs blind massage therapists. As Laura and I received our massages, I felt a bit awkward at first but the massage was great and I quickly gave into the relaxation.

The next morning, Laura, Tobias, and Katya depart for a boat trip of the floating markets (boats where merchants sell and trade produce). I stay behind due to tummy trouble and at first I am really disappointed. This is THE attraction in Can Tho, how can I miss it? But 6 hours straight on a boat with no bathroom access would be miserable. But after the cramping subsides, I end up having a nice day. I read, watch the BBC, drink copious amounts of water, chat with a friend, and before I know it I feel much better. On a lengthy trip like this, slowing down sometimes is important.

Can Tho is the largest city in the Mekong Delta. The city is one of the largest producers of rice, fruit, vegetables, and fish in Vietnam. Around 6am, it is as if someone flips a switch and Can Tho springs into action. Within the Huy Hoang Hotel, I hear people mill about the lobby, knock on doors, and clink their cutlery during breakfast. Motorcyles honk and someone begins hammering in the distance. Outside, people are everywhere--shopping, driving, spitting, eating, talking, sweating. My favorite time is around 10pm when the town quiets again. Fresh fruit juice in hand, I walk the riverfront under trees festooned with Christmas lights and past the golden statue of Ho Chi Mihn. Couples snuggle on benches as a few remaining boats meander down the Mekong.

As much as I love Asian food, I find some of the menu choices a little hard to stomach. Try these on for size:

Cowtail and hooves stewed with citronella
sweet and sour fish stomach
fried rat
crispy breaded frog
snake with vegetables

The snakes live in a small terrarium behind the tables. A Dutch guy named announces he has ordered the snake and wants me to try some. Well, when in Rome right? I grip a small piece with chopsticks and place it in my mouth. It tastes like the spicy sauce it's bathed in but I can also detect some scaliness on my tongue. Robert says he's ordering fried rat for dinner but I decline participation this time! After my culinary bravery, I allow myself to be lazy and order lasanga for dinner and a banana pancake for breakfast at a place called Cappuccino. Although I love the asian staples of noodles and rice, I need a break!

Chau Doc, Vietnam

Traveling from Vinh Xuong Cambodia to Kaam Samnor, Vietnam is my first border crossing by boat. This particular crossing is in the southernmost region of mainland Vietnam--the Mekong Delta. After an hour or so in a van, I walk down to the Mekong river, cross a flimsy plank of wood, and onto a small blue ferry. The first thing I notice is the toliet area, which has no roof and offers the best view on the vessel. There are 8 other passengers. We motor past small villages, wooden boats, and the occassional buddhist temple.

A charismatic woman named San explains the Vietnam entry process. "Visa take 20 minutes. You relax, lunch, toliet." She leads us past a security camera which will apparently gauge our level of health and urges us to smile. We pass a quarantine area with a few people laying on cots. It doesn't seem like a place I want to spend time. After a lunch of rice and vegetables, she returns clasping the stack of passports. "Remember, keep departure card otherwise you need to marry a Vietmanese" she jokes.

San accompanies us on the remaining 3 hour journey to Chau Doc. The river narrows, providing a better view of life along the Mekong Delta. A young boy waves at me while his mother lifts laundry into the river. Two older children bath their cows and themselves in the muddy Mekong. Wearing the signature conical Vietmanese hats, workers toil in rice paddies. San directs our attention to "monkey bridge," an unbelievably slight wooden construction. As we pass underneath it, I'm convinced it would collapse under the weight of a typical American.

The moment we enter Chau Doc, we are admist a bustling market filled with baskets of rice, frying meat, and some kind of unidentifiable chunky yellow concoction in a vat. We settle on a guesthouse and Tobias and Katia, a German couple from the boat ride, decide to stay at the same one. We spend the rest of evening dining and swapping travel stories.

It is amazing how well rested I am after a night of air conditioning! Nearing April, southeast Asia continues to become more sweltering by the day. Laura and I began our journey committed to staying in the cheapest accomodation but now we realize how paying a few extra dollars for the occassional amenity can really boost morale! The moment I step outside my cool oasis, I'm struck by the heat and the buzzing world outside. A female vendor wearing a surgeon's mask holds the strings of a mass of brightly colored balloons, hoping for a sale. She is one small part of the enormous market sprawling outside the guesthouse. Foreign markets facinate me and Chau Doc does not disappoint. The fresh fruits, vegetables, and spices are a joy to walk through. The lovely smell of cilantro enters my nostrils. But the meat area is another story! I watch as a woman expertly guts, cleans, and bags the fish for a customer in under a minute. Everything is out in the open air to be smelled, inspected, haggled over. The smell of hot meat makes me queasy. A pig's head sits atop a wooden table surrounded by pig ears and innards. Chickens and ducks squirm and squak from pens. A girl places a live chicken in a tote bag with the nonchalance an american might toss plastic wrapped Tyson chicken breasts into a grocery cart. Women chop hunks of beef with cleavers, swatting flies of the merchandise. The lanes are impossibly narrow yet somehow people, motorcyles, bicycles, carts, and trays dance through. Yes, the markets can be delightful and appalling but never, ever boring.

Interesting Vietnam factoid of the day:
-Vietnam blocks the use of social networking sites such as Facebook. Researching this a bit, I discovered this occured because people were using it for political dissent. I have also had some difficulty signing into my blog at times and strange experiences with Skype interrupting my calls with a shrill noise and hanging up or even signing out completely. Not sure what to think about that.

Note: Computer speed has been extremely slow here. It is unlikely I will be able to post new pictures for awhile!

Siem Reap

It's a few hours into my journey from Phomn Pehn to Siem Reap when I smell burning plastic. I see what looks like smoke near the mounted television in the left hand corner. I motion to the bus attendant and express my concern by pointing to the smoke. He pats the t.v. and says it's "no problem." For awhile I am convinced the bus will burst into flames or I will suffocate from smoke inhalation but eventually the smell and the smoke ceases. I never do find out what the issue was. Out my window, people toil in green fields and shacks of with wood or grass walls sit on stilts. listen to my ipod nearly full-volume in an attept to drown out our driver's incessant honking. During the 7 hour trip, he honks to signal his approach to overtake each vehicle by learning on the horn for several seconds. At a pit stop for food, I survey the scene. Monks smoke and check cell phones while goats feast on a pile of trash. Women sell snacks wrapped in plastic bags hanging from an awning. I order rice with spinach, bamboo shoots, egg, herbs, and chili sauce. It's delicious.

The vibe in Siem Reap is definitely lighter than when we were in Phomn Pehn. (Although after visiting the Killing Fields and an infamous prison, your mood can really only improve.) Due to it's proxmity to the famous temples of Angkor Wat, Siem Reap is a town with numerous tourist-oriented services from upscale hotels to westernized restaurants. Laura and I choose Smiley's guesthouse for $8. This buys us two single beds, a couch, coffee table, tv, clean bathroom, fan, and a narrow balcony. Once you get outside of the tourist cluster of hotels, massage parlors, and internet shops the road gives way to holey, dilapidated shanties. Merchants sell fruit from wheeled carts while children play near litter-strewn buildings on dusty side streets. An official holding a nightstick paces outside a minimart. I watch a man wash his dishes with a stiff blue brush in the muddy river.

In the evening, we explore the gigantic night market. Merchants entice with an array of items and services including scarves, paintings, bootlegged guidebooks, and 20 minutes in a tank of fish that eat the dead skin off your toes (we didn't inuldge). Six landmine amputee victims play music behind a sign requesting a donation. As we stroll through the corridors, I hear "Hey Lady, you buy something? Good price for you." My two most successful bargining techniques are as follows: 1) Always be willing to walk away if your price is not accepted. Many times it will be as soon as you turn to leave. 2) Put only the amount you want to spend on an item in your wallet and the rest in a separate place. Apologize to the vendor and say this is all you have on you. Many will take that amount rather than lose a sale entirely. I am always polite in my negotiations with merchants but I'm not ridden with guilt over offering low prices. They will never sell to you at a loss.

The next morning we depart the guesthouse promptly at 5:15am with Hinda. Hinda is the tuk tuk driver we hired for the day to tour the temples of Angkor Wat. The cool early morning wind whips through my hair as we race toward the temples. For those of you unfamiliar, Angkor Wat is the largest religious monument in the world. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ankor_Wat. Ankor Wat is the number one tourist destination in Cambodia and this is apparent as soon as we arrive and see the droves of people milling about. I escape to a quiet spot further away and watch the sunrise over the five towers. My experience at Angkor Wat is mixed. On one hand, the temples are undeniably beautiful. I enjoyed clambering up steep stairs, viewing ruins intertwined with trees, and admiring the intricate details carved into the rock. Upon entering one particular pagoda, we were instructed to thump our chests seven times for good luck. When we did, the sound echoed like a drum! The downside to this beautiful, amazing, site is with millions of visitors come scores of people trying to sell you things. After each temple they would gather around you. "You want cold drink/ t-shirt/ bracelet/ " or whatever other trinkets they happened to have. I understand they are making a living but it is also draining to always have to firmly say "No" and walk away every time. After eight hours of temple touring, we told Hinda we were ready to head back to Siem Reap! Still, I am glad we had the opportunity to visit Angkor Wat!

Phomn Pehn, Cambodia

I am definitely not in familiar territory any longer. Case in point--the Cambodia visa on arrival process. I step up to the counter to offer my documents and passport photo when I see one laying on the floor and think I've dropped it. Only after the photo is in the official's hand do I realize the face in the photo is not mine! I attempt to correct the mistake but he waves me away to the next station. I try again with the next official but he says it's ok and requests the $20 fee. The photo does not appear in my actual passport and the visa is granted. My customs card is never taken. I decide not to worry about it and exit the airport. Outside, Laura and I are immediately offered rides to the town center. We agree on a price of $2 for the 20 minute ride to Tat guesthouse.

Scenes from a tuk tuk ride--Dozens of mopeds vie for position. There is no apparent limit on how many vehicles can cluster in a single lane; the result is a herd of tuk tuks, mopeds, cars, and bikes moving together. Many of the mopeds have multiple people on them, as many as four on a single machine! Our driver makes one stop for gas. He calmy walks across four lanes of oncoming traffic to the gas station for a bottle of gas and back, never flinching! Laura and I have not yet achieved feat--we still flail and run for our lives.

Tat's guesthouse is run by smiling, fifty-ish, raven haired Tat. Tat speaks good English (French too) and is almost constantly followed around by her excitable orange dog. She is extremely helpful, initiating the process for our Vietnam visas, pointing us in the direction of tasty, cheap food, and arranging our bus ride from Phomn Pehn to Siem Reap. Our large bed sits on an off-white tile floor. We have a wicker bookshelf, wood vanity, and a small television mounted on the wall. Our window is framed by gold curtains and overlooks a series of corrugated metal rooves of shantys below. The room costs a budget-friendly $3.50. The only problem is the bed has a few fleas jumping on it. We spray the sheets with DEET and it's much better.

Our first Cambodian meal is at Vihear Sour Restaurant just down the street from our guesthouse. It appears we are the non-locals in the joint and there is only one other female diner. Laura orders a "small"Ankor beer that turns out to be a pitcher! Whenver we take a single gulp, our waitress refills our glass to the top. My fried eel is tasty but I feel guilty eating it as a woman with black teeth begs nearby. I offer the food to her but she does not take it.

The next morning we wake up early and catch a tuk tuk to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. I am somewhat familiar with the history of the place. Choeung Ek (and many other places in Cambodia) was the site where the Khmer Rouge massacred more than 200,000 people in an effort to cleanse the Cambodian population of anyone they deemed an intellectual (or "new" people) and therefore a theat to their vision of an agrarian communist society. Their methods of murder were many and varied. Soldiers bashed babies heads against tree trunks. Tools such as machetes, axes, even garden hoes were used to blugeon victims to death in an effort to save costly ammunition. A sign by the "Magic Tree"details how a large speaker was hung here to drown out the screams of prisoners. The memorial stupa is a glass case filled with the skulls of victims. Plots of mass graves surround it. A nearby building offers further information. The killing was arbitrary--someone wearing glasses might be an intellectual and therefore killed. Often, entire families were killed to prevent a member from exacting revenge. When I see the remnants of baby clothes salvaged from the fields, I find it difficult to hold back tears.

Although emotionally drained, we decide to make a stop at Tuol Sleng. Tuol Sleng was originally a high school converted into a prison where people were interrogated before meeting their demise in the Killing Fields. Now it houses The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. The building is straight out of a horror movie. Barbed wire surrounds the perimeter, photos of emaciated victims line the walls, and rusty iron beds with pieces of shackle sit on the orange and white tiled classrooms. Upstairs, the movie "Bophana" tells the tragic story of the fall of Phomn Pehn to the Khmer Rouge thorugh the eyes of a mother who's son and daugher in law were eventually executed. Paintings by Vann Nath, a former inmate, depict the many types of torture performed in the prison, including water boarding, ripping off finger nails with pliars, and electric shock.

The atrocities the Cambodian people suffered under the Khmer Rouge are so far from my reality they are difficult to comprehend. As I climb into a tuk tuk, I glance once more at this building that was host to so much torture. I feel an ocean of gratitude for my life.

Railay

We journey from Ko Lanta to Railay on a small ferry followed by a long-tailed wooden boat that drops us off a few meters from shore. Railay is a peninsula in Thailand's Krabi province and only accessible by boat. I love it immediately. Dramatic limestone karsts surge from an emerald sea lapping soft, white sand. And there are no cars--none. We arrive at West Railay which is the busier and more expensive beach. Backpacker-oriented Tonsai is our destination. To reach it, you can either pay 80 baht for a boat ride or a fifteen minute scramble over rocks separating the two beaches. We opt for the rock route which is a little cumbersome the first time weighted down by our packs but fine afterwards.

Tonsai has a relaxed rasta-vibe and is full of rock climbers but other colorful characters as well. Dreadlocked guys in fisherman's trousers lounge on the sand, a thai woman sweeps her porch with a wiry broom, and a mother and her son play checkers with bottle caps. Our bungalow, Andaman resort, is located on the "main street" which is nothing more than a dirt path. A single bed with a blue mosquito net canopy sits on a wood slat foor. We have an asian style bathroom off to one side and electricity only during the evening hours. But our lodging is posh compared to some travelers--Eli from Finland is camping and takes his showers at the beach shacks where he buys his breakfast.

Highlights include Tham Phra Nang cave which features tons of carved penises. There are tiny ones and ones as tall as me in a variety of colors and shapes. They are placed there as offerings in hope that the spirit will provide fisherman with a plentiful catch! Another day, I hike to Sa Phra Nang with a German guy named Fabian. Sa Phra Nang is a hidden lagoon accessible by a fairly intimidating hike/climb. One guy we met said he hiked to the same point on three separate trips to Railay but still could not drum up the courage to descend a particularly steep spot. (Should this have deterred me? haha) I felt emboldened by having another person with me and the promise of a gorgeous, secluded spot. The lagoon didn't disappoint--the warm green water is completely surrounded by immense cliffs. I float on my back and look into a blue sky shaped like an eye.

But my favorite experience is the snorkeling trip. With our guide, Lek, we push off from Railay's shore in a long tail boat bound for the island of Poda. This first site turns out to be my favorite due to the sheer proximity to the marine life. I see a black spiky sea urchin whose single orange eye follows my movements. An clown fish floats by except that his white stripes are tinged florescent green. Tubes of soft pink coral sway back and forth and the strange purple mouth of a hard coral opens and closes. I notice a fish covered in the pattern of a giraffe's skin. We swim through caves. I like floating through the darkest part then emerging into the sunlight. After snorkeling we boat to Chicken island, uninhabited except for a single family with a food shack. After the most incredible sunset of my life, I watch as thousands of bats fly overhead. Lek explains they are headed for phi phi island but in his broken english I cannot determine why. We dine on seafood curry, brimming with robust shrimp by the light of four tiki torches. Lek leads us to a spot for a night swim to see the glowing phosphorescence organisms. Peering through a snorkel mask, they look like tiny diamonds swirling around my arms and legs. As our boat heads back to Tonsai, I lay on my back to gaze at constellations positioned differently than I remember them.

Ko Lanta, Thailand

The final decent into Phuket airport is the best one of my life--forested rock formations ringed by misty blue waters. After an ATM pitstop, we walk past hotel hawkers and taxi touts until we reach the Aerobus. I stare at the Thai script signs inside the bus, seemingly made up of lower case "p" and "q"s. Only after we are halfway through the bus ride do I realize I left my only ATM card in the machine. I am extremely angry at myself for doing something so stupid but all is not lost. I have enough money for my time in Thailand and Laura is willing to lend me cash throughout the rest of Asia if necessary. I cancel my card and order a new one. Now I just have to decide where to have it sent after it arrives at my house. I'm thinking Athens, Greece so I can be sure it has enough time to arrive before I do.

"It has no really taste, eating like pudding" comments Torsten about a dish he orders at the Phuket night market. Christophe and Torsten are two German friends traveling together we meet on the way to our guesthouse. Christope is on a mission to find fisherman's trousers for a price that pleases him and asks every clothing vendor we pass.

The next day we head to Ko Lanta. Ko Lanta is comprised of a series of islands off the Andaman coast in southern Thailand; Ko Lanta Yai is the largest and our destination. The process begins in an eight person van to Phuket's port where we load onto a ferry. On the top deck, pasty boys in board shorts sun themselves, two guys in aviator shades and shaved chests dare each other to swim the rest of the way, and the breasts of an enormous British woman threaten to fall out of her inadequate bikini top. We are close to our first stop now. I see Phi Phi Don island on my left and Phi Phi Le (made famous after The Beach was filmed there) on my right. Minutes later, we exit and are ushered toward a small boat bound for Ko Lanta. I smell a combination of sun, sea, sweat, and cigarettes from my perch atop a mountain of backpacks. I try to avoid getting ashed on by the many smokers but it's sort of inevitable so I focus instead on the breathtaking scenery of rocks and ocean.

We arrive at Ban Saladan port and chose a bungalow located on Klong Nin beach, about three-quarters of the way down Ko Lanta's west coast. The driver hucks our packs on top of a pickup truck and after squeezing eight other travels in the back, he drives us to Ko Lanta Nature Resort. For 300 baht (about $4.60 each) our dwelling is a bamboo a-frame bungalow on stilts. A mosquito net hangs on the wall and the shower spritzes in every direction except directly on my head but who cares we have a hammock on the porch! After unloading our packs, we notice our new German friends are loding two bungalows down from us! We have fun with them, they teach us German phrases, let us ride on their rented mopeds, and tell us that David Hasslehoff is one of the most famous singers in Germany. The beaches are not mindblowing, but still good and the atmosphere is utterly relaxing. The rest of the evening plays out like an idyllic beach movie--drink a mango lassi at the open air bar, swim in the bathtub warm ocean, and watch an orange sun dip into the sea. But then we watch fire dancers and one catches the back of his tank top on fire. "Excuse me, you're on fire" comes a polite voice from the crowd the performer doesn't hear. "Stop, drop, and roll!" I yell. He will be ok.

One day I have an oceanside thai massage from a fortyish woman with drawn-on eyebrows. She is incredibly strong and at one point actually hoists me skyward, her knees pressing into my back. I am amazed at how she performs much of the kneading with her elbows and nimbly moves around my entire body to gain access of each area. And it's under $10.

We attend the Lanta Lanta festival in Old Town, a strange brew of a carnival indeed. One "game of skill" offers stuffed bears, eggs, and cooking oil among it's prizes. The lead in a thai-reggae band is dressed exactly like Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean. A "Miss Lanta" beauty pageant is judged by a muscular trannie in a cobalt blue dress. Skinny thai teenagers perform a dance routine to pop music, my favorite is the lone guy who wears a green t-shirt and shakes his booty with sassiness like I've never seen. Afterwards I congratulate Greenshirt and he dissolves into a fit of giggles! I feast on pad thai, grilled corn, and some kind of gelatinous sweet I can't identify for a few baht. I buy a lightweight robin's egg blue print dress and Christophe finally finds some fisherman's trousers.

I borrow a snorkeling mask from the Germans and discover striped fish, funky coral, and something that looks like a cross between a snake and a newt. We drink rum and coke and play Connect 4. We continually evaluate the quality of our daily mango lassi on a scale of 1 to 10. At night the colorful christmas lights of mellow beach huts twinkle as we contemplate our dinner venue. We hike to the Mai Kaeo caves, described in the pamphlet as "most of the impression in Ko Lanta" As I shimmy through the narrow crevices, passing bats and huge spiders with diamond eyes along the way, I would have to agree. On the way back, we have the opportunity to ride on an elephant but I just can't do it. One elephant already has a hairy guy with a huge tatoo on his left love handle sitting atop its head and looks deeply unhappy.

I like Thailand. The Thai people have been nothing short of kind and accomodating in every way. Although the average annual income is under $5,000 usd, most people appear to be quite content. Families run their businesses, be it serving food, massage, some type of tour, etc. Houses are simple but this climate doesn't demand more than that. I befriend Mi, Wan, and "Rambo" who all speak enough English to carry on a conversation. Mi sums up the Thai lifestyle as "good food here and lack of stress...Americans eat bad food and worry all the time about money." Mi is 37 but could pass for 19. Clearly, there is something special about life on Ko Lanta.

Batu Cave & Monk Friend

On my last day in Malaysia, I visit the Batu Caves, about a thirty minute bus ride from Kuala Lumpur. This site is one of the most popular Hindu shrines outside of India and features the largest statue of the Hindu God Murugan in the world at 140 feet high. The first thing I see after climbing the nearly 300 steps to the cave's entrance is a gift shop which boasts "Om Nama Shivaya" bumper stickers, cave photo place mats, and a neon-lit photos of the Murugan statue singing a Hindi tune. As I sit on the marble steps of the Hindu temple, I watch monkeys scamper up the stalagmites (or is it stalagtites? I can never remember!) with their babies clinging to their fur. A man in a golden trimmed sarong chants inside the temple while tank-topped tourists cajole the monkeys with food into photo-worthy poses. The air smells of incense and monkey poo. One monkey tries to snatch my bag; another successfully steals Laura's orange drink!

Throughout the cave wood carvings of various Hindu gods loom over us. I notice two monks around my age, taking photos of them. Both wear the characteristic orange robe and one has a pair of knockoff Prada sunglasses perched on his head. I'm curious and want to talk to them but every guidebook I've ever read claims monks are not allowed to communicate with women according to their vinaya (code of conduct). But then, the one with the sunglasses walks up and introduces himself! I can't tell if his fellow monk is shy, unable to speak English, or both. We exchange pleasantries and I don't know what else to say so I say something cheesy like "enjoy your visit" and figure that is that.

But about half an hour later, while Laura and I are eating at an Indian restaurant at the base of the caves, the two monks stroll through the door. "Come join us!" I say and they do. Over the next hour Panna (pronounced "Panya") tells me interacting with women is fine; it is being alone with a woman in a secluded place that violates his oath as a monk. Panna has been a monk for the past 15 years since age 13! Monks do not have to assume this post forever but Pannna views it as a long term commitment. He is currently pursuing his masters in Buddhism here in Kuala Lumpur but hails from outside of Kandy, Sri Lanka. He studies Vipassana Buddhism which I am particularly interested in and I am delighted when he suggests exchanging email addresses so we can discuss the it further. On the bus ride back to KL, we talk about everything from the bogus monks posing in Chinatown to the precepts of Buddhism as applied to the monk verses the layperson. Before we part ways, Panna expresses his gratitude for our company. "No one has been friendly and willing to talk to us" he says "I am so happy to have met you and you are always welcome in Sri Lanka!" By the time I made it back to the hostel I already had a message from him: "Very nice to meet you and you friend. You are so friendly. I like you people. And have a nice journey to Thailand." --Panna

Cameron Highlands

It looks like it could be out of an episode of "Pimp my Bus"--red plush seats, televisions on the back of every seat, air conditioning, and complimentary bottled water are just a few of the comforts on our overnight bus from Singapore to Malaysia's Cameron Highlands. In between bouts of sleep, I pass the 8 hour journey listening to music, watching movies, and journaling. During our main pit stop the bus drivers smoke around a metallic fish fountain. Signs advertise lucky porridge and bee venom therapy outside the small grocery store. The next time I wake up the moon is a luminous pearl against an ink sky. It is 5:30am and the air is noticeably cooler as we wind around narrow roads surrounded by stars and silhoutte mountains.

We arrive in Tanah Rata and choose Daniel's Lodge for it's laid back atmosphere and $4 pricetag. And our room sets a new record for small--It's literally 2 twin beds separated by a few inches. The bright blue door barely clears the edge of the bed. I like our view of a tree stump table and mini-buddhist temple with rusty bikes leaning against it. In this ramshackle small town, our days fall into a pleasant routine. I usually eat a mango from my favorite fruit stand guy at the end of our street before heading to Restoran Kumar with it's menu pasted inside a scruffy photo album. After breakfast, Laura and I hike one of the many jungle treks surrounding the area. Then we sit down for a banana leaf meal where they give you several piles of veggies, rice, and curries to mix together. Evenings are spent reading, drinking Anchor beer with other travelers around the fire pit, or playing with the 3 resident puppies. The puppies were found by a traveler in the jungle and now belong to a girl working at the hostel.

Hiking in the Malaysian jungle has presented some challenges. Each trek is designated only by a number and none are well marked. Only rudimentary maps are available so even finding them is an adventure. Trek #2 meanders through narrow, steep terrain to the next town over called Brinchang. Much of the hike was more of a climb as I grabbed thick roots to hoist myself up to the next portion of an overgrown path! Trek #10 took us to the top of Jasvar mountain, overlooking all of Tanah Rata. My favorite was Trek #7 which ended up at Robinson Falls. We were never able to quite locate #13, ending up instead in someone's backyard with chickens squawking all over the place!

But it's not all paradise. Some parts of town have an overwelming sewer smell that makes me gag. There are discarded water bottled floating at the bottom of the beautiful waterfalls. Tanah Rata is known for it's strawberry farms and expresses this pride with several tacky tourist shops selling everything from strawberry keychains to huge strawberry pillows. Still, I can live days filled with amazing hikes, great food, and comfortable surroundings for about $15 here so it is hard to complain!

We head back to Kuala Lumpur this afternoon and fly to Phuket, Thailand on Saturday!