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!

Sizzling Singapore

The border crossing from Malaysia to Singapore is unique because it's actually a 1,056 meter causeway connecting southern Malaysia with the island of Singapore. The official marks my passport with a hexagonal stamp and I have officially entered my seventeenth country.

Singapore is often described as a good country to enter for first-time visitors to Asia. The streets are clean and well-marked. At markets such as Lau Pa Sat, you can be daring and eat fish heads or play it safe with simple rice and veggies. Our days were spent moving between various sections of the city and air-conditioned breaks inside Singapore's modern malls (the directories have interactive touch screens!) to escape the sizzling midday heat. Transport is made easy with the Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) train system. Most journeys around the city center cost around the equivalent of $1 usd. Our hostel is located just steps from the Aljunied stop. It's so close in fact that I can watch the train whoosh by when I am in the kitchen and hear the automated female voice say "Next stop, Aljunied." Sky Orchid hostel is the tiniest hostel I have ever stayed in with the kitchen, common, and computer areas all in one big room; the seven dorms surrounding it. The four bathroom stalls are down a narrow hallway where a sign reads "After using the toliet, please flush probably. Thank you for your Civic Mindedness." Ah, a bad English translation never fails to amuse me.

Singapore has several ethnic enclaves, including an Arab Quarter, Little India, and Chinatown. The Arab quarter is brimming with textile shops, men smoking flavored tobacco out of hookahs, and food stalls sizzling with fried rice and satay. We sit down to eat in the shadow of the gigantic golden Sultan Mosque at Hju Esah. I eat pineapple and seafood rice, while Laura orders a cabbage, egg, peanut sauce concoction called gado gado. I pluck a chip off the top and discover it is dried fish! I browse the little shops and find a striped cloth bag I love. In Little India, I marvel at the lively Sri Veeramakaliam Temple where an evening pooja is taking place. A pooja is a Hindu worship ceremony where attendants believe access with a god or goddess is possible. I watch as women in bright saris pour milk into a silver bucket, a man with white face paint stirs a pot over a heart-shaped fire pit, and another clangs one of the many bells hanging on a wooden door as incense permeates the air. Another enjoyable activity was hearing a Chinese percussion band outside the Esplanade Theater. The entire troupe performed pieces titled "Tiger stalking it's prey" and "Ducks squabbling" with symbols, large taut drums, and woodblocks.

Normally Laura and I shy away from many traditional tourist activities, because often they are cheesy, not to mention too expensive for our backpacker budget. We made an exception for the Singapore Flyer and it was well worth it. The Singapore Flyer is currently the largest ferris wheel in the world. Listening to the electronic audio tour, I learned how much of the wheel and Sinagpore itself was designed to align with the principles of Feng Shui. For example, the wheel used to rotate counterclockwise but was reversed because clockwise is considered better energy. Other decisions are based on lucky numbers including a building with the windows forming the number 13 and the fact that the ferris wheel has 28 capsules that each accomodate 28 people. When you reach the summit of the Singapore Flyer, you are closest to heaven and this is the best time to make a wish! The ride offered amazing panoramic views of the city and surrounding ocean. I am so glad we did it!

Back at the hostel, I suddenly work at 3:37am to the sound of teeth gnashing. Ugh. Some kind of animal must be in the room. I try to ignore it but I can't help myself; I click on the light and crouch down to investigate. I hear it once more and discover it's not an animal but our roommate, Don, grinding his teeth! I can't believe how loud the noise is! Don is Filipino and cracks us up with his questions about American culture such as "Is Michael Jackson really dead? People in the Philippines are not sure what to believe." Along with our other roommate, Luke, ridiculous conversation continued and the four of us giggled like sixth graders at a sleepover.

PS: Laura and I seem to be having a contest as to who can lose/break the most sunglasses. So far Laura's burned through 4 but I trail closely behind at 3. Luckily they have all been under $10. Or maybe that is why they are breaking. It's a chicken-egg question.

I say Melaka, you say Malacca

The first adventure of the day is trying to find the bus station again. Every local we ask gives different directions (perhaps they want to try to help rather than say nothing at all?) At one point we realize we are on the correct street but at the complete opposite end. Our bus leaves at 11am and it is 10:50! We dash across chaotic streets, dodging motorcycles along the way and sprint down platform 8. "Going to Melaka?" we ask 3 drivers who all reply "No." It must have already left! Then at 10:59, the Melaka bus pulls up and everyone piles in rapidly. Within minutes we begin our 2 hour blissfully air conditioned journey south to Melaka.

From the Melaka bus station, we take another bus Red Dutch Square and locate The River View guesthouse on Jalan Pantai. Mani, the owner, gives us Li Chi juice and a map detailing nearby areas of interest. Our guesthouse boasts a cozy lounge festooned with plants overlooking the river, watercolor paintings, and a serene minimalist decor. Luxury possible for $6, I love it. Walking about town I watch trishaws wrapped in colorful fake flowers ride down the street. Everywhere, red paper lanterns hang above me.

On Jonker Street, I find the Wah Aik Shoemaker which specializes in shoes for women with bound feet! The owner, Raymond Yeo, explains how his father began marketing the shoes to tourists as souviners after his last bound feet customers passed away in the nineties. Women of high social ranking would bind their feet to snare a wealthy husband. The process began as early as 2 years of age when all but the big toe would be wrapped with cloth and the arch crushed with a stone! Feet needed to be bound their entire life or the feet would begin growing again. The ideal size fit in a 3 inche shoe--known as "san zun jin lian" or the "golden lotus."

One day I explore Harmony Street--named as such because of the 3 places of worship on it. Malaysia is a predominately Muslim country but it's citizens are allowed to practice other religions freely. I enter the Chen Hoon Teng Chinese Buddhist temple and listen to 5 monks in saffron robes chant while several people listen on bended knees behind them. The monk in the middle gentlely taps on a wood carving as they chant. A man walks around handing out oranges and a woman with several sticks of incense in hand bows several times in the direction of the buddha statue. Suddenly, the monks begin to walk around the temple and everyone follows them single file. I join the end of the line and together we snake around the temple in a long line, bowing at the buddha statue when we pass.

In the Hindu temple, Sri Poyyatha Viyanga Moorthy, I am offered sweet rice and chickpeas from a rotund Indian man wearing a white sarong with blue trim. We engage in a brief conversation but in his broken English all I can decipher is that some important man is visiting the temple in a few days and will I still be around? Then he removes the lid from a silver platter and places some sticky rice and chickpeas on the tips of my fingers. "It's sweet, yes?" he asks. "It is delicious" I reply, "What kind of rice is this?" "Yes!" he answers with a smile and I laugh.

Other curious characters include Abraham who introduces himself as "a nomad from Kashmir" intent on enticing me with beautiful goat-skin bags in his shop and Gabrielle the quirky Swiss woman who owns the second-hand bookstore and a 17 year old blind cat she claims is "the most photographed cat in all of Melaka." (Are many cats vying for this title?) Abdul insists he used to play golf with Obama and that smoking is the inspiration of life while his friend is equally adament that there are actually 52 states in America. Both wish Britney Spears would send them some of her money. One thing is for sure, all the Malaysian people I have encountered are friendly!

The Museum Rakyat (The People Museum) is a mixed bag of bad English translations and historical events described as accurately as having occured in "yester year." One entire hallway is dedicated to the spinning top (also known as a gasing) and another to kites. I learn how one should never stand on a doorstep during a gasing tournament because a satantic knot may be placed there by insincere people. In the 3D gallery downstairs a large diorama with a television inside features a low-budget movie of Melaka's invasion by the Portuguese. Nearby, scenes from Melaka's takeover by the Dutch are depicted in trippy hologram form.

One evening I walk Melaka river at dusk as silent lightening flashes in the sky. I watch red river boats float through the water and the passengers take a picture of me while I take a picture of them. I startle when I hear something rustling to my right and watch some type of huge, long lizard scurry across the path in front of me and plunge into the river! Another night Laura and I boat down the river. I make small talk with the Omani family sitting across from us as we float past peeling Dutch style buildings and a Mariah Carey song wails from the radio.

The food is delicious and diverse, a reflection of the many cultures residing in Melaka. My favorite the roti pisang at Selvam--banana chunks in warm thin bread accompanied by 3 types of sauce. I wash it down with mango lassi, an icy yogurt fruit drink. All for 5 ringgets (less than $2)

Despite receiving UNESCO World Heritage status in 2008, Melaka's tourist population remains relatively small. Most conversations begin with "Hello, how are you? Where are you from?" and then "Ohhhh the USA!"accompanied by a somewhat incredulous look. Perhaps Americans routinely pass up Malaysia in pursuit of more popular southeast Asia destinations. As for me, I am fully enjoying the many pleasures Malaysia has to offer!

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

With all the free movies available on Malaysia Airlines, the 8 hour flight from Melbourne to Kuala Lumur passes quickly. Fireworks explode over the city lights as we land, most likely a part of the ongoing Chinese New Year celebration. It's almost 9pm and a balmy 84 degrees when I step off the plane. As I fill out my immigration card, I notice the following message emblazoned on the bottom "Be forewarned, death for drug traffickers under Malaysian Law" Well, that certainly is getting to the point isn't it?

After collecting our bags, we buy tickets for the KLIA Ekspres train to the city center. Then we locate the KL monorail and head toward Imbi, where our hostel is located. After getting turned around a few times we finally locate Hostel Equator and are shown to our room. For the equivalent of $10 each, Laura and I get a small room with orange walls, 2 twin beds, a locker, bedside tabe, and a whirring fan. I stay up awhile and play guitar with some Canadian guys before finally falling asleep.

The next day we explore the Central Market first, fingering batik garmets and admiring buddha wood carvings. I eat stingray for lunch and it's delicious. We wander through Chinatown which is chock full of predictable items like desginer bag knock-offs but also more interesting fare such as a row of entire cooked pigs with flowers planted atop their heads. I use a squat style "tanda" (toliet) for the fist time and instead of toliet paper, there is a sprayer you use to clean yourself.

Finding our way around is a bit challenging. Thankfully, everyone I encounter is willing to help. Hadi, the owner of Hostel Equator, gave us a map marked with attractions but KL is far from grid-like. Every "Jalan" (street) seems to tangle into another and it's easy to get confused. Luckily, the monorail provides a landmark we can head toward when lost. We stumble upon the Islamic Arts Museum and I take in the sights--everything from prayer mats to mosque models; intricate marriage certificates to Qur'an texts filled with beautiful calligraphic script.

Kuala Lumpur is an interesting city of contrasts. The glittering Petronas twin towers rise above decaying buildings. Lavish shopping complexes reside near elegant mosques. Tourists in short-shorts stand next to woman draped in burqas. Loud, dirty, crowded streets suddenly give way to quiet, picturesque garden areas. I bought a piece of gourmet cake from an immaculate glass display case the same day I watched a man slit a live chicken's throat with a serrated knife at an open air market. It's a dizzying experience, but one thing is fore sure--I truly feel I am traveling in a far away place.