The Last One!

In a year and a half never would I have imagined that I would be so changed by the people, places, and experiences I encountered as I trekked from Japan to the Land Down Under and then finally, through South East Asia. Heck, even arriving home was an adventure!

Reflecting wholeheartedly on such an incredible once-in-a-lifetime journey requires a certain ability to appreciate even the smallest gestures of goodwill, to remember the seemingly insignificant events that created the ‘whole picture’, and to cherish the new friendships that in many cases, will last a lifetime.

I can honestly say that my odyssey abroad made me a better, happier, and more grateful person.

In my last blog entry for this particular episode of wanderlust, I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who’s either been with me in the thick of things or followed my journey via the delightful World Wide Web! From the sensory overload of Japan to the mystical beauty of New Zealand and throughout the exotic encounters of SE Asia, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being with me, every step of the way – it means more to me than you will ever know.

Although I could write a thousand personal thank-you’s to everyone, there are a few people around the world that I would like to give a few special shout-outs to:

Japan

The Best family: My journey began with you and I am so grateful that it did. Thank you for creating such a wonderful opportunity for young people to experience and embrace a different culture other than their own, I really hope to make it back to camp one day!

Taka: If I could adopt you I would (even though we’re the same age)! Your smile brightened up all those rainy days at camp. I aspire to live life with the selfless passion you show in everything you do.

My Co-Counselors (Mimi, Kaitlin, David, Carlos, Eric, and Alli): Throwing seven strangers together in the chaos of a foreign country couldn’t have been more amazing. Thanks for making camp one of the highlights of my life! Karaoke reunion? I think so!

Australia

Brent, Ronelle, and John (Desi’s cousins): I’ve never been shown such wonderful hospitality. Thanks for welcoming me with open arms into your homes; my challenging transition from NZ to Asia couldn’t have been more enjoyable!

Gordon Rugby Club: For a crazy fun night out that I don’t really remember.

Andi and Lilly: All-Blacks vs Wallabies = most amazing sporting event of my life, thanks heaps for the tickets!

New Zealand

Queenstown

Stew Greig: for being my first friend in town and showing/forcing me to learn how to mountain bike!

Adam & Gary: Best roomies a girl could ask for, even if you both did drink all my beer =)

Tommy: for being you.

The Morrison Family (ALMOST): because you held down how cool Americans really can be… congrats on the new addition!

Hels and Mayu: Going crazy fast down mountains was so much more fun with you ladies and I learned how to make sushi!!!

Alissa ‘Sis’: Beautiful, talented, AND can ride like the boys? Thanks for the friendship and smiles!

Dugald: Thanks for not breaking up with me after A-town pee’d in your bed ;)

Nikki, Steph, Fay, and the ‘gay ski crew’: I will never look at a ski season the same after a winter with you badass ladies!

The PLP: For helping me GET EXCITED! for each and every day from the moment I met all of you. May you always be champions of not taking life so seriously and being a kid again!

Mia: You are my INSPIRATION to live life to its fullest and to take every challenge head-on. I can’t wait to cheer for you at the 2014 Paralympics!

Alli: the meanest Maori in town and the most sincere and beautiful person I’ve met in my life. Thanks for the positive encouragement and friendship!

Keri: Painting, photo shoots, cooking, missions, drums, movie nights, skiing…we did it all! You were the finishing piece of the puzzle that MADE New Zealand the trip of a lifetime. “Tēnā rāwā atu koe”

South Island

The East Coast Americans of Cromwell: I am blessed to call you all my new rugby sisters (even if you let f*cking DAVIS beat you at nationals)!

Mis Amigos de Suramerica: Gracias for some great times in Christchurch!

Jen and Nat: In a time that I really needed a friend, I got two. Although our time together was short-lived, our connection was undeniable and I hope it lasts a lifetime!

Andre and Rikki (and Taz):  Oh Girls! Thank you for taking me under your wing and sharing your beautiful Maori heritage with me. Our late night chats were some the most cherished conversations I’ve had!

North Island

Alex Lines: It was so nice to see a familiar face up North! Thanks for the extended hospitality and incredibly fun mt. bike mish in Windy Welly! 

Nicky White: Glad to put it all behind us and focus on what an amazing journey we shared together.

Nicole Lilburn: Erupt Festival was a remarkable experience and a brilliant learning opportunity –thanks!

Caro and ‘The Girls’: Who knew that ridiculous sleeping mat would create such a lasting friendship?

Sharlene: I am so happy to have met you! Thanks for having me and PLEASE let me know if you’re ever back Stateside!

The Evans Family: Thanks for the Earthlings enlightenment and YUMMY veg food!

Spencer & Brianna: So amazing to have a part of Chico show up all the way in New Zealand! Spenc, awesome to have met you, Bri – marry that man!

Vic and the AUCC: Ask me a year ago if I would’ve ever paddled whitewater in a hardshell kayak and I would’ve said “YOU ARE CRAZY!”, but with you guys it was the time of my life! If only I could record Big Red and that ridiculous didgeridoo…

Malaysia

Chris and Elly: We were %100 destined to be friends. I can’t wait for our next adventure!

Llouis and Guilliem: I’m glad I finally figured out you weren’t actually speaking Spanish! Thanks for putting up with my bus outbursts and for the awesome three weeks together!

Thailand & Laos

Mandy & the “Colorado Boys”: Thanks for helping me face the wall. You have sparked a passion in me that I hope to continue with until this body gives out!

The BHC: I would need a book to thank you guys for the great and absolutely epic times!

Cambodia

Sarah, Maria and Court: I couldn’t have asked for three more incredible people to end my journey with. For all the “last nights” and to many more!

Home

To my fantastic family and friends: THANK YOU for reading my blog and for all the wonderful feedback! Sharing my experiences with everyone at home was both a delight and an honor. I’ve always had an interest in writing and am so grateful that so many of you enjoyed my stories! I love you all and am so happy to be back home so I can share my experiences with you first-hand!

The One Late Entry That I Couldn't Post in Communist China

Different is a word that does not quite do Cambodia justice. The streets are somehow more chaotic than those found in neighboring countries, food menu's boast specials such as 'fried cow's intestine' and 'sweet and sour river snake', the local markets are a labyrinth of stalls and smells, and the people here are some of the most beautiful kind souls i've ever come across. Gone are the mega shopping centers of Malaysia, the carefree almost excruciatingly slow pace of life in Laos, and goodbye sappy Thai music... Cambodia is a place of its own.

 32 hours spent playing musical chairs with buses was a small price to pay to get to this third-world-country. Once I arrived in Siem Reap, two new travel mates richer, I was ecstatic to explore. Without intending to, I had arrived in the second largest Cambodian city during nationally-celebrated Water Festival. The weekend also happens to be the busiest two days of the year in Siem Reap - go figure. Food stalls lined the streets selling anything from hot-dogs to beetles. Massive floating shrines dotted the shoreline of the river running through the center of town. Tuk tuk drivers and stall owners sold their services and goods with unabashed screams and swindling. All the hustle and bustle was a bit overwhelming until I caught sight of the boats on the river. I was thrilled to be a spectator of sports again and immediately began discussing with my new mate Maria the tactics involved in boat racing with nearly twenty people having to paddle in unison.

After a day of being nearly overwhelmed by the festival activities, I finally got a phone call through to my Kiwi mate Keri who was in town with her student excursion group from Australia. I was thrilled to see Keri and almost surprised to actually hear her accent; after a year in New Zealand I had stopped noticing the strange vowels and incomprehensible slang.With Keri technically working we couldn't visit long but made plans to try and meet up the next day at the Angkor Wat temples. Maria, Sarah, and myself rented bikes for $1 and rode through the sweltering heat, despite the early morning hour, to the famous temples.

When Angkor Wat actually came into view, so did the thousands of tourists all heading inside. The girls and myself decided to head to some of the further temples to avoid the crowds. Riding past elephants and monks, we arrived at a large temple with far fewer people milling around. As I walked up the steps I ran into a few kids from Keri's group and was surprised to find Keri so quickly amongst the dozens of temples and thousands of people in the area. We posed for a few pictures, both took note of how impressed we were by the beauty of the ancient temples, and then had to go separate ways. I met back up with Maria and Sarah and the three of us spent the better part of 9 hours riding from one stunning temple to the next. After a death-defying bike ride home through Cambodian traffic, we arrived at our hostel exhausted but feeling grateful for the day's experience.

The rest of Siem Reap passed in a blur of daily excursions and relaxed evenings. As we were making our plans to leave the city news spread that a massive stampede had happened in nearby Phnom Penh and that hundreds had tragically lost their lives. I immediately became aware of the somber faces around me and even the tears being shed by locals watching the news. By nightfall, as I was leaving the city, nearly every home had made an offering to the spirits of those lost. Throughout Cambodia, hundreds of thousands of candles burned beautifully through the night.

After a near-sleepless and very motion-sick night on a bus, the girls and I dragged ourselves into a tuk-tuk just as the sun was rising in the beach-side city of Saukville. A water-polo playing Canadian girl joined our trio and the four of us found a beach-side resort to spend the next few days relaxing at. Hearing about the bitter cold taking over home was surreal as I lay out in the hot sun sweating and tanning! Initially planning on heading to Phnom Penh to visit the historical war sites, i've been enjoying myself too much on the beach to drag myself inland, so the educational tour will have to wait another week or so.

-Ash

The One Crazy River Day

I’ve had a lot of ‘this is probably a bad idea’ moments throughout my adventures in the past year and half; but as I stood at the top of a two story platform looking into the (possibly shallow?) river below me, I knew this was definitely a bad idea… and then Matt, a blond-haired American with FRAT spray-painted in giant hot-pink letters on his chest, smiled at me, chugged the rest of his beer, and said, “See ya.” just before leaping backwards off the platform. His back layout arched perfectly before he rotated and landed feet first in the quick moving water below. Well, I thought, if steroid-induced Frat Boy can backflip off this thing, I sure as hell can jump! And with that, I launched myself into the air. The water felt more like concrete as I hit before I sank farther down than I thought possible. Kicking my way to the surface, I gulped a breath of air before letting out a cowgirl-esque YEEEHAWWW!

We had progressed about 200 meters downriver and already the chaos of tubing the Vang Vien River had surpassed any labor day weekend spent on Beer Can Beach.

Our trip to Vang Vien Laos had started out ominously enough.  Leaving Thailand involved a you-gotta-try-it-once-in-your-life slowboat “cruise” into Laos. The slowboat was really just a glorified canoe that was supposed to hold 80 passengers but (in true SE Asia fashion), the boat crew had loaded well over 120 of us onboard. The only space left once we were suckered onboard was an area designated for luggage. The six members of the Baby Hand Cannibal gang (a biker gang formed during a whirlwind motorcycle trip to the small mountain village of Pai), including myself, claimed a 6X8 foot floor space and set-up our own minibar.  We were soon joined by a few stragglers and proceeded to spend the next 7-hours on the Mekong River playing card games and witnessing the inhuman amount of alcohol our mate Dallas Dean could consume.  After a short overnight stop in some random river village, we were back on the boat, crowded as ever, spending another 9-hours cruising with nothing but drink and card games to entertain ourselves.

Once off the boat, the gang spent two days in the quaint city of Luang Parabang. We got our first taste of Laos food (amazing) and hospitality (delightful). Several of us took a day-trip to the most surreal waterfalls I’ve ever seen. In my haste I forgot my camera, but we did stumble upon a bear sanctuary… random, I know.  With a few of us on short time schedules, we booked a van to Vang Vien; a 5-hour drive away. What they didn’t tell us was that our driver was apparently prepping for his NASCAR career and, despite the worst road conditions ever, happily drove 60-80 mph on a mostly 30mph road whilst passing trucks on blind turns and flying through gravel without any care or concern about fishtailing or hitting the dozens of village children playing along the roadside. With a front-row seat, I didn’t feel embarrassed one-bit when I literally screamed in fear over several close calls. Arriving exhausted from a terrifying trip, we booked into our hostel and got to bed early in preparation for tubing the next day.

Let me paint this picture for you: imagine a typical sized river, nothing too big but quick moving enough to think twice before jumping in, and then picture a half-mile stretch of that river with nearly 20 makeshift bars on the banks complete with blasting sound systems, 30-50 foot waterslides, ziplines, bungy swings, diving platforms, and hundreds of drunk tourists clasping bright yellow tubes. Being a veteran Sac-River tuber, nothing could prepare me for the mayhem on the rivers of Laos.  Our gang, already a few drinks in, waltzed into the first bar with a mixture of shock and terror at what we found. Adrenline-crazed people swinging by their feet before dropping into the water, a waterslide with no rules for which way or how many people could slide at once, beer pong games in full swing, and a toddler walking along the bar collecting money for drinks. So we did what we were expected to and joined in the pandemonium.

By the second bar I found myself happily being tattooed with cans of spray paint and by the third – the platform showdown with Matt the frat boy. We had only traveled 200 meters and three bars, but already several hours had passed. Wanting to keep on keepin’ on, we decided to pass a few bars in favor for actually spending some time tubing;  that is, until we saw the giant sign that read MUD VOLLYBALL. Flailing wildly, our group (that had now grown to a dozen people) managed to haul ourselves toward shore. The mud volleyball game resembled more of a wrestling/falling match as all of us tried, and failed, to stay upright in the mud pit with a solid foot of standing water. Covered in muck from head to toe, I decided the quickest way to clean up would be a cannonball off the bar deck into the water 15 feet below. I landed precariously close to a pod of British tubers who screamed, laughed, and then helped haul me toward the stairs that led back to the bar. At this point the sun had completely disappeared behind the clouds and, waterlogged, I was freezing.

Grabbing tubes and dragging my mates with me, we set off on the river toward a bar downstream with a huge campfire blazing. I had just dried off and warmed up when Connor shouted my name and pointed yet farther downstream. What I saw was the biggest non-theme-park waterslide I’ve ever come across: complete with a kicker at the end that launched people very high and very fast through the air until they slammed, gracefully or not, into the water.

It looked like something out of a Jackass movie. I had to try it!

Not bothering with our tubes, we all took a trail to the bar and the boys and I practically fell over each other as we raced up the 3 flights of stairs to the top of the waterslide tower. Looking down the slide, which was craftily made with big bathroom tiles, I looked back at Connor and told him to go first. I will not acknowledge his foul reply, but my response was a running super-man headfirst dive onto the tiles. I slid for what seemed like forever, my skin smacking through the gaps between tiles faster and faster before WHOOOOOSH!!!! I was FLYING through the air! In my drunken coordination, I tried turning to ham up the camera and my mates watching before I slammed ribs first into the water. Surfacing for air, I was half sure I had been tackled rugby-style somewhere mid-flight. I looked up at the top of the slide, which now seemed even more insanely high from the water, to catch Connor as he flew ass-first through the air over my head and into the water.

We clamored back onto the bar deck to a chorus of yells and high-fives. At some point we decided to slide again and once more, my body flew like Buzz Lightyear before meeting the hard cold water of the river.  On my second slide attempt my hips had sustained bloodied swelling bruises so, with the sunlight fading and my luck pushed to the limits, I called it a day. With all my mates and myself a bit worse for wear, but all stilly happily alive, we tubed the last 50 meters to the nearest take-out point.  It had taken us nearly 7-hours, but we had safely tubed the famous Vang Vien River!

-Ash

Fun Fact: Laos is hands-down the most beautiful place I’ve been since leaving New Zealand. I’m glad to be visiting it while it still holds its third-world charm: I fear a decade from now the place will be as over-run with tourists as Thailand.

The One Day with Rescued Heffalumps

At the turn of the century, Thailand boasted a population of nationally-revered Asian elephants 100,000 strong. By 1990, with the logging industry abolished in Thailand's diminishing rainforests, the elephant population, including of thousands of "working elephants", had fallen to an alarming 5,000. Today, a little over half of that number exists in the wild and in captivity. Alarming? Yes. Moving? Not until you've met some of these incredible creatures.

Arriving in Chiang Mai, visiting an elephant sanctuary was not at the forefront of my plans as a tourist in this thriving city and surrounding rainforests. But, after seeing a brochure for elephant rides -I took one look at a picture of a fat white man riding an elephant, a huge grin on his face, and a menacing sharply hooked cane in his hand, and I had second thoughts. With a recommendation from several friends to visit a small elephant sanctuary outside of the city, I began looking into the tour. At first I balked at the price: $2500 baht for a one-day visit (to give you an idea of how much this costs: meals are about $30 baht and a nights accomodation is around $150, an all-inclusive 3-day jungle trek including an elephant ride was only $1600), by the time I left the Elephant Nature Park, I was wishing I had $25,000 baht just to donate to the place!

Driving out to the park, I became painfully aware of why sanctuaries are needed in Thailand. We passed several elephant camps in which the animals looked overworked, underfed, and stooped with heartbreaking indignation. Pulling into the Elephant Nature Park, we were immediately greeted by a healthy looking 10ft tall bull elephant who had decided the park's driveway was a good place to have a snack from the hanging tree limbs. His mahout (trainer) had to resort to bribes of banana's to get the 6-ton animal to move out of the way.

After unloading from the van, our group was immediately given a safety briefing. I was humourously impressed by the examples of innapropriate (idiotic) behavior the tour guide gave us; it continues to amaze me how stupid people can be, especially in the presence of the worlds biggest and strongest walking animal. With a healthy dose of caution, we were led to the feeding pens where I had my first interaction with the big guys. I was obviously struck by the sheer size of both male and female elephants, but when their trunks wrapped around my hand to pluck the fruit from my grasps, I was shocked by the grainy thick skin and sheer muscular power of even the smallest elephant's trunk. Within minutes I was thouroughly in awe of the majestic nature of these huge creatures.

Next came bathing and a chance to meet an incredible woman who began the park in 1995. The elephants were led to a large and muddy river where they stood patiently as groups of tourists, including myself, hucked buckets of water all over their grey and pink bodies. Not many animals would take kindly to being drenched, but the elephants seemed happy to help us by hoovering water through their trunks before spraying it along their own backsides. Wet, muddy, and feeling overjoyed through my interaction with the gentle giants, I made my way toward the main buidling to washup before lunch. Wandering along a viewing deck, a petite Thai woman greeted me. After asking my name and where I was from, she kindly inquired how I was enjoying my day. Mid sentance I realized who I was talking to: Lek, the Park's founder and director. I almost stopped speaking just to hug the tiny woman, who's name means "little" in Thai. Not wanting to take up the busy woman's time, I told her I was having an incredible day, commended her for her dedicated work, and took her business card in the event I can ever manage to give back to the inspirational sanctuary.

I left Lek to her work, and the rest of the group settled in for a delicious Thai-style lunch. The mood was almost festive as complete strangers joyously talked and interacted, even the dogs were happily about. But it was not to last: shortly after lunch we were shown a documentary about the Park. It focused on the plight of the 34 animals who had been rescued and brought to the park and the incredible odds Lek defied to make the sanctuary a reality. We learned of Hope - a young elephant rescued as an infant after his mother was killed by farmers for wandering into their crops (which were located sheer feet from their encroached natural habitat), Chang Mae -a former working elephant who was blinded after her hours-old baby was left to die and she refused to work, Lilly -who's back was visibly broken in several places from carrying too-heavy tourists on too-heavy riding chairs, and Mae Do a 70-year-old female who because her broken hip (caused by being chained to posts during forced breeding) had been begging on the streets for her owner's profit.

The film was sad but served its purpose of making even the most aloof tourist into an animal rights activist (if only for the day). For me, it was a reminder of the falability of human nature and the inpirational change that can come from the most unlikliest of people and places. With a newfound respect for the elephants we had spent the day with (and the hundreds of employees and volunteers who run the sanctuary), I said my goodbye's to the Park and it's inhabitans before climbing into the waiting van. In the fading sunlight I reflected on my day and the how unexpectedly moved I had been by the experience. My mind wandered to thoughts of Lek and how one woman had risen from poverty to create one of the most successful and inspiring non-profits in the world. That day my world was changed. Lek and her elehpants made me believe that tomorrow, I too could change the world. 

-Ash

http://www.elephantnaturepark.org/

The One Time We Got Lost in Bangkok

'Dis way! Dis way!' the tuk-tuk driver yelled at us as he took a corner going well over the speed limit. The three-wheeled motorcycle squealed with protest as we shifted our weight in the direction the driver motioned and somehow whipped around the corner without overturning.

The other tuk-tuk team.

'This is INSANE!' I screamed.

'We're going to die!' Someone else shouted over the blare of the motor.As we shot between two hot pink Bangkok-style taxis the driver shifted gears and raced ahead to catch up with the tuk-tuk carrying our friends. 'Why did we tell him to race the other driver?'

'Because we want to WIN!!!' I yelled, followed by a half scream that turned into a shrill laugh of panic as we took another corner. 'Go go go!' I encouraged as we made the corner, flying past the other tuk-tuk. The motor noise was deafening, along with the wind blowing past at a bajillion miles and hour. We were on a vehicle that would never pass any street-worthy standards in the western world, and the whole ride was only costing the group two US dollars!

Convinced that another block of racing each other would end badly, I began voicing this concern when we joltingly slowed and pulled into a parking lot. Without hesitation, I rushed to untangle myself from the jumble of arms and legs around me. Finally on my own two feet I looked around and realized we were out in the middle of nowhere. The only other white people around were my friends and the locals were all looking at us strangely. To be fair, we were trying to find a bar across the street from a 7-Eleven, miles from downtwon Bangkok. The only problem is that there are over 5,000 7-Elevens in the city and none of us were too sure that this particular store in front of us was the correct one. Within a kilometer in either direction there were at least eight or nine of the mini marts. So, like all smart tourists, we walked in circles for nearly a half hour before asking for directions.

Waving a small square of paper around with Connor's friend's VERY bad directions written on it, I was able to attract the attention of a lovely young Thai woman who spoke broken English. After reading the paragraph of directions and the two or three words we had gotten translated into Thai, she shrugged, looked up, and mentioned it was going to rain, 'very hard, very soon'. We took note and then stood helplessly as nearly every Thai within earshot took his/her turn in trying to help us figure out where we were trying to go. When it became clear that a) the directions were absolutely useless, and b) it really was going to rain soon, we cautiously followed a middle-aged Thai man into a less than dodgy alley. 

Rain and dark alley lights didn't stop
 this badminton match!

Once in the alley, the man (who had a brilliantly friendly smile, as do most Thai's) proceeded to take a bottle of Thai rum out of his mobile bar and poured the lot of us a round of double-shots. As the shots went down the sky opened up and torrential sheets of rain drenched the sidewalk in front of us. Realizing we were not going anywhere until the storm passed, we settled in to teach the locals a few drinking games. Playing cards turned into playing badminton and before we knew it, the rain had stopped and the contents of the rum bottle were gone. A helpful local insisted we have her brother drive us to where the crew of street vendors and shop keepers had concluded we needed to be. Our group, deciding that things would have already gone bad if the locals meant us any harm, tried to pay the mobile-bar man (he refused to take our money) before piling into a plush 15-seater van.

We drove for some time before the young Thai pulled over in front of a very hip looking bar full of Thai university students. Connor jumped out, surveyed the scene, and announced, 'This is the place!' We enthusiastically cheered, thanked the van driver profusely and stumbled out. Once we began crossing the street Connor admitted, 'Guys, I have no clue where we are or who is inside there, but I felt bad so I told the dude driving us we were at the right place.' At that point I don't think any of us cared!

The taxi ride back to Bangkok

Once inside the bar we were informed that only entire bottles of whiskey or vodka were available for purchase - so we got a few of each. Soon an Australian couple joined our posse and we closed down the place. Anna, one of the Aussies, had been living in the city for some time and suggested she escort us back to our accommodation. We convinced the cabbie to let all seven of us ride together and, crammed in like sardines, we raced back to the city. 

The rest of the evening is a bit foggy. Buckets (take a cocktail and super-size it) were consumed, dancing was done, and I believe I made a few phone calls to the States. By the time we made it back to the hotel, sunlight was streaming through the windows. Yes, the hangover was severe, and no, Connor did not catch me on video praying to the toilet gods (regardless to what he may claim or have evidence of)! It was a highly entertaining, if not slightly irresponsible night, but in the end we were all safe and sound in our beds... if not a bit worse for wear!

Fun Fact: Bangkok is actually just a westernized version of the city's Thai name which is (get ready): Krung Thep Mahanakhon Amon Rattanakosin Mahinthara Ayuthaya Mahadilok Phop Noppharat Ratchathani Burirom Udomratchaniwet Mahasathan Amon Piman Awatan Sathit Sakkathattiya Witsanukam Prasit

The One Where I Engage in Monkey Warfare

Looking 30 meters below me I could only see my mate Connor as he looked up the cliff to check my progress. My feet were pressed between two 25-foot stalactites (think creepy caves) and three chalked fingers on my left hand were keeping me upright as I squeezed them furiously into a small hole in the rockface. My right hand searched frantically for a higher hold before finding enough of a grip on a slimy stalagmite to pull myself upward. One more tricky (and not-so smooth looking) move with my feet and I was standing upright on a small ledge. Finally, I was able to rest after 12 exhausting minutes of rock climbing.

Dripping with sweat in the tropical heat, I heaved air into my lungs and flexed my screaming muscles. The anchor point for the rope in which I was harnessed into was only another five meters above my head but already I was higher than I’ve ever climbed on anything before.  I was mentally preparing for the last surge of energy that would bring me to the top of the climbing route when I heard a rustle in the bushes and a less than friendly growl.  Suddenly, a monkey the size of a house cat jumped into view and effortlessly rushed toward me on the near vertical wall. I screamed. He screeched. I screamed some more. ‘Monkey! There’s a monkey up here! AHHHHHH!’ My last terrifying yell caused the monkey to bare his fangs before disappearing silently out of sight.  Dave, the cruisey and calm guy who was belaying me asked if I wanted to come down. I tried to gain some sort of composure, thought about being attacked by an 8lb monkey on his home turf, and decided not to push my luck.

Once my feet were back on horizontal ground, Connor pointed over to two others in our rock climbing party.  Both Mandy (a ripped Aussie who climbs like it’s her birthright) and Katrina were climbing to our right, directly below a cave. Somehow during my short climb a clan of 40 or 50 monkeys had descended into the cave. Our friends were surrounded. To their credit, Mandy and Katrina quietly got off the wall and calmly moved away from the primate family.

That’s when the first rock flew past my head.

Confused as to how a rock had landed so close to me when I was so far from the wall, I looked up just in time to see a juvenile monkey huck a rock that nearly caught me in the shoulder. ‘Uh guys? I think the monkeys are throwing rocks at us!’ I called out.

‘Really?’ Dave asked incredulously.

‘Monkeys don’t know how to throw rocks at people.’ Connor answered, just as another rock exploded on the boulder directly in front of him. ‘Sh*t ! The monkeys are throwing rocks!’ He laughed out as he and the others rushed closer to the cliff wall and out of the monkey’s range. I waited for Curious George to leave his post (probably to reload) before making a mad dash myself.

For the better part of a half hour ,the five of us ‘superior’ primates lay helplessly pinned against a wall as a three-year-old monkey pelted rocks from his perch every minute or so. Mandy pointed out that I had started this whole guerilla warfare when earlier in the day I had thrown a rock at some monkeys who had been trying to get into our gear… I still claim innocence.

As soon as they had arrived, the crew of monkeys left and we were finally able to move from our shelter. Scanning the mouth of the cave, we noticed the smart little buggers had left two or three of their family members behind to guard the cave. Over the next hour we proceeded to climb quietly and cautiously. It seemed that without the rest of the family around we posed less of a threat.  After several climbs each we finally packed up our gear and called it a day. Definitely the most exciting one in Ton Sai to date!

I arrived in the tiny climbing mecca of Ton Sai a week ago. My expectations were to check out the sights, play on the beach, watch people climb some of the most famous cliffs in the world, and just maybe - give climbing a go myself. Then I met who I refer to as the “Colorado Boys”. This crew of seven young men are a combination of childhood friends, school/work mates, and Sebastian, the token Canadian.  All the boys are accomplished rock climbers with Tyson having climbed the longest and Seb having less than a year under his belt (but don’t let that fool you, he climbs things that scare me to look at). Mike and Thew (a much more original shortened Mathew) are brothers and Connor and Jeremy are their childhood friends. Dave is the groups lone-ranger who also doubles as Mike’s best friend.

The irony of meeting these boys began before I had even met them. In one of my ‘what am I going to do with my life?’ Internet searches, I had come across an adventure travel company called Bold Earth Adventures. Within minutes of surfing their website I added it to my list of “Jobs you would sell your soul to have” and thought I would look into it further when I got home. Low and behold within a half hour of meeting the Colorado Boys over lunch they began to asked the typical series of questions one traveler asks another including, ‘So what do you do for work?’ I half explained a handful of the jobs I’ve had over the past few years before saying that what I really wanted to do is work for an adventure travel company. Suddenly Thew perks up and tells me that’s what most of the group does every summer and that his brother Mike is one of the managers for a company in Colorado. I ask the name and nearly die when he says, Bold Earth Adventures. High on the ironies of life, I show him my notebook and turn to the “Jobs you would sell your soul to have” list and he is almost as surprised as I am by the coincidence. As if I had spoken some secret password, I was in like flynn with the Boys and we haven’t looked back.

Then something happened that I had never expected: I fell in love… with rock climbing. The Colorado Boys invited me to come climbing with them despite my lack of experience (note: my experience = zero if you don’t count the time I went rock climbing indoors with girl scouts). After borrowing what seemed like a piece of equipment from almost everyone, I was shakily taking my first steps on vertical rock. Tyson looked as if he might fall asleep at any moment while belaying me (meaning the climb was that easy) while I, on the other hand, would climb a few feet before stupidly looking down and becoming paralyzed with fear. A few confident words of encouragement from Tyson and I would relax enough to move up a bit more. I finally made the ascent and heaved an exhilarated sigh of relief as rush of adrenaline coursed through me. 

Over the past few days I have done a number of climbs of varying levels of difficulty, but always with an extremely supportive and helpful crew of fellow climbers. A few routes have left me too pumped to send (translation for normal people: some climbs were too hard for me to get to the top) but for maybe the first time in my sporting career; I’m not too bothered by my lack of ability. Just getting on the wall and doing a move that I didn’t think I could do, or getting higher than I expected to get, is enough to leave me smiling for hours. The vibe here is unreal and my two-day stopover has turned into a two-week adrenaline-filled adventure!  And to top it all off (Desi), I’ve even started doing Yoga. =)

-Ash

Fun Fact: Minutes before the 2004 Tsunami hit the west coast of Thailand, climbers high on the cliffs above Ton Sai Bay could see the massive wave coming and were able to warn everyone below to run to high ground. Unfortunately, many climbers did not have time to rappel to safety and were forced to clip into the rock walls and pray. Luckily no climbers were hurt, though many were stuck for hours, and in some cases, through the night before rescue was possible.             

  

The One Where a Blind Lady Upchucks, I Teach the ABC's, and a Tourist Gets Ripped Off

I have bad line karma, this is a fact. So of course when I go to use an ATM I get behind this harmless looking Thai woman who is nervously withdrawing large amounts of money from the machine. The money comes, her card is spit out and immediately she shoves it back in and starts the whole process of withdrawing the maximum amount allowed again. 'Odd...' I think to myself as I wait for her to finish. After her sixth or seventh withdrawal I am now very curious as to why someone would need to take that much money out of an ATM. Then it dawns on me... its probably not her card. I look at my mates and ask, "Is it normal to take out that much money?" and one of the boys responds with, "Do you really think that's her card? Some poor tourist bastard is getting ripped off and doesn't even know it yet." Welcome to Thailand eh? Not that there is much we could do in the situation. By the time we realized what she was doing she hurriedly made one last grab for cash and then practically ran across the street and ducked into an ally. If I wasn't already being careful about my cash and cards i'm hyper alert now!

Despite the scams and cons and rip-offs (which in most cases only cost the average tourist a few bucks and are about as common as identity theft in the US -which I have been a victim of twice) Thailand has been filled with friendly helpful folks and some incredible scenery.

The boys and I started our journey into Thailand at the Thai embassy in northern Malaysia. While waiting for our free visas I was happily munching on some fruit when I noticed something crawling in my bag. I nonchalantly picked it out, only to realize it was a scorpion! I quickly hucked it into the grass with a yelp that ended in laugh of relief that it hadn't stung me! Once our passports were stamped we haggled a taxi driver to take us to the border. A relentless argument ensued before we got the guy to agree to what we considered a fair price... a few hours later we found out we had jipped the guy almost half the expected rate. I felt bad but by the time we were crossing into Thailand we had a whole day of travel negotiations ahead of us. The highly "dangerous" border crossing was uneventful and we soon found ourselves in a minivan headed to the west coast. We weaved in and out of military road blocks at break=neck speed and when a storm turned into a downpour the driver didn't bother to slow down as we hydroplaned all over the shop.

When Llouis, Guilliem and myself boarded a bus I was relieved to have a few hours of carefree travel. I even got a cute blind old lady as a seat-mate and was enjoying her jabber toward me (she obviously didn't realize I was a foreigner) when suddenly, Grandma's chatter stopped and she rapidly pulled out a plastic bag before vomiting her lunch into it. And I thought the hydroplaning was bad! The up-chucks lasted the duration of the trip as I willed myself not to join the party. Arriving in a little coastal town called Satun, the boys and I raced through a downpour to find a hotel room. To save on money we pushed the two small beds together and exhaustedly slept three across. The next morning, in our search for a bus station, we came across an American named Harry. Harry has been living in Thailand for over a decade and was most helpful with directions and advice. He was so interesting that we all decided to have a chat. Low and behold it turns out that Harry graduated from Chico High School a few decades before I was born. His description of Chico in the 'good 'ol days' was a far cry from the hometown I know and love, and boy did he have a few hilarious stories! From getting drunk with the high school janitor to stealing the school bus to go joy riding, this guy and his buddies made even the biggest pranksters in my classes seem like amateurs!

Biding adieu to Harry, we began our journey to the tropical Island of Ko Lipe. The tiny Island is about the size of Chico State's campus and is home to both aboriginal fishing villagers and ethnic Thais. Right away the boys began an advanced diving course as I took a few days to acquaint myself with the Island. In between downpours that were loud enough to drown out conversation, I wandered the beaches and even spent a half day gardening with two incredibly nice Thai women who shared the same name. The next afternoon some local kids bounded up the steps and made themselves at home on my porch. Soon we were playing tic-tac-toe and I was giving an impromptu English lesson to the two older girls. Within an hour they were all happily singing the 'ABC's' and trying the hand-motions of the 'Itsy Bitsy Spider'.

Another afternoon was spent snorkeling as the boys practised their diving a few meters below me. At lunch we boated to a tiny village of aboriginal fishermen and their families. We had coffee and cakes with one of the village elders as children around us played this awesome game that could only be described as extreme dodgeball mixed with bowling and freeze tag. After lunch and our village visit, the boat went to the second dive sight. One look at the deep bottomless water and massive swells and there was no way in hell I was getting off that boat. So instead I waited an hour as the boat Capitan fished using aboriginal fishing methods (no rod and an interesting jerking motion with the fishing line). As the wind picked up and the swells got bigger, I became greener and woozier. I willed myself to keep lunch down by singing every song I've ever even partially memorized, even continuing to sing as the divers returned and we sped to shore.

A few more rainy days, some coconut eating, and several enthralling conversations with an English gentleman named Al and we were leaving Ko Lipe and headed for the mainland. A HORRENDOUS two-hour boat ride (during which I was convinced we were going to capsize in the 4-8 meter high swells) and I was safely ashore. The Spaniards (Llouis and GuilL) and I are now in Krabi as we organize a rock-climbing trip over the course of the next week. I was lucky enough to run into a Czech guy named Radek who happens to be a climbing guru so the boys and I have lessons in exchange for beer! Let the good times roll!

The One Big Update (Finally!)

If you like:
• Dilapidated buildings
• Streets, sidewalks, fields, parks, rivers, lakes and oceans strewn with trash
• Waiting 10 minutes for a waiter, getting half your order before everyone else at the table and, if your lucky, half once your mates have finished eating
• Buses crammed full like a can of sardines only to stop every 100 meters between dangerous speeds
• Transportation always being 30 minutes early or an hour late
• Hotel rooms cleaned less often than your 13-year-old brother’s bedroom
• Being constantly barraged with seedy men calling, “Hey ladee, taxsee taxsee?!”
• Being told incorrect information 4/5 times you ask for help
• People staring because you are white and blatantly taking pictures
• Dozens of never ending itchy bug bites
• Fighting ants for territory
• Countries that pillage their natural resources and haven’t a clue about sustainable practices (down to burning plastic bottles rather than recycling them)
… THEN MALAYSIA IS FOR YOU!

All that being said, Malaysia has been quite the adventure! I’ve had a grand time and have met some friendly and very caring locals. When I get past the frustrations of the different cultures and when my impatience settles into acceptance that I cannot control the boat driver who decides to drop off every cousin he has around the Island before taking me ashore, I find myself relaxing and saying to myself, ‘This is Malaysia.’

Seeing as I know you all have been patiently waiting, here is a recap of all the places I’ve been the past few weeks:

CAMERON HIGHLANDS:
After a terrifying ride on the most ghetto bus in the entire country I finally arrived in the cool mountain air of the Cameron Highlands. The grid of tea plantations and jungle covered hills were a far cry from the deforestation and miles upon miles of palm plantations I had passed on the way there. The town still had the typical shabby houses and even a few bamboo and palm frond huts but the evidence of poverty was much less abrasive than I had seen elsewhere. The hostel I had book (and confirmed twice) gave my room away to some Canadian named Stephanie so I was given the “special room” and confused as actually being Stephanie for the duration of my stay. The special room was actually a storage closet and upon meeting Stephanie, a witty Canadian lawyer, I didn’t mind the confusion. My first full day an elderly Muslim man kindly walked me through town to the trailhead of a network of trails that weave through the area hillsides. Being told my intended itinerary would take me ¾ hours, I was quite surprised to finish it in 1 1/2… The early finish meant I finally had time to wash some laundry (by hand in the bathroom sink); as soon as my clothes were handing to dry the afternoon rain showers ruined all my hard effort.

Day two consisted of another hiking mission, this time recruiting the help of a very enthusiastic Chinese man and his very shy son. I was accompanied by a Kiwi named Johnnie who had purposely lost his delightful New Zealand accent and an English girl who is possibly the biggest whinger and most argumentative person I’ve ever met. Despite the bad apple, Johnnie and I had a wonderful time hiking, even when a monsoonal downpour didn’t let up for over a half hour! We got back thoroughly tuckered out and I headed to bed early to rest before my travels to Taman Negara National Park in the morning.

TTAMAN NEGARA NATIONAL PARK:
Upon arriving at the gateway village into Taman Negara, I was reunited with my Manx mates Elly and Chris. A charming boat ride said to take 45 minutes actually took over 2 hours; by the time we arrived to the park village I was more than ready to be back on dry land! We stumbled upon a very basic hostel overlooking the river that was run by a bunch of guitar playing locals who moonlight as rainforest guides, waiters, store clerks, and boat drivers when needed. Meeting two Spaniards named Llouis (pronounced You-es) and Guilliam (William with a G), the five of us quickly teamed up to explore the worlds oldest rainforest over the next few days.
We started with a long, and very high, canopy walk that had me nearly paralyzed with fear. After trying to play tough with the crew I finally had to stop and wait for everyone to cross the series of walkways so that I could proceed at my own shaking slow pace. Not even once did Chris mischievously shake the suspended ropes on me, but he had Elly swaying like a chimpanzee! After our adventure in the jungle canopy, we had a relaxing day in preparation for a hike deep into the rainforest to one of the observation hides. A Canadian named Christopher (who has never been camping if you can believe that) joined us that evening and despite his inexperience, was a keen to join our mission to the hide.

The river had swollen over its banks following several nights straight of thunderous monsoonal rains, which made for a very exciting boat ride to the trailhead! Dodging massive logs and gunning through class 2/3 rapids (our boat was a very basic long wooden canoe with a motor attatched…not what I would be driving into whitewater) we arrived soaking wet at the jetty of an abandoned lodge. After exploring the crumbling buildings like a bunch of kids we settled down to business of walking to the observation hide. Arriving just before dusk, we were soon joined by another Canadian named Thomas. We all expected more people to walk up behind him and when we realized he was solo we were shocked: he had with him a backpack made from a Brazillian flag, a tiny sleeping bag, sandals, a small bag of crackers, and half a bottle of water. The rest of us individually easily had triple what he had carried, and he had hiked the 6 hours in! Removing the dress shoes Thomas had been forced to wear, his hiking shoes had been lost, several leeches were discovered hungrily draining blood from his ankles. We all watched in gross delight as he pulled them off and blood poured from the leech bites.

It was around dinner time that I became very aware of Christopher’s germaphobia. Nearly half the contents of his bag were different anti bacterial sprays, insect repellent, tablets, and first aid supplies. We all took delight in his cleansing rituals performed in the middle of a muddy bug infested jungle! Planning on staying up late into the night to catch sight of the large jungle animals roaming, I somehow fell asleep around 9. I was woken up by Elly whispering ‘Thomas! There’s a mouse sitting next to your head!’. Thomas, asleep on the bench, groggily looked over, saw the mouse, and shooed him away before falling back asleep. I on the other hand stayed awake for the next few hours freaked out that a tiny mouse would maim me.

We all woke early to start on the long 6-7 hour trek back to the village. Llouis went outside to take a picture of us from high in the observation hide and suddenly we burst into laughter as he unknowingly disrupted a massive nest of jungle ants! Dancing because he literally had ants in his pants, he eventually got them all off and came away with a few dozen bites to show for it. Our hike home consisted of wet muddy jungle terrain that followed a path up and down a series of small gorges and creeks. At one point we passed a tiny village of Orang Asli people, the indigenous nomad tribes of Malaysia. The beautiful kids all hid behind huts between peeks at the seven white strangers passing through. A tiring 7 hours later and we finally were back at our hostel. Watching the stunning sun set over the tembling river and listening to the local boys play “Hotel California” on their guitars, I knew this would be a special place that I’ll always remember.

PERHENTIAN ISLANDS:
Getting to the Perhentian Islands was no easy feat. A rickety bus ride from Taman Negara to the train station was jarring enough, but not nearly as rough as the 6 hour train ride that lay ahead. I had acquired two new travel partners in Llouis and Guilliam and the three of us took turns sleeping at the train station before our 3AM ride finally arrived. Exhausted, I immediately fell asleep once in my seat only to wake up at the next stop to a petite Muslim woman harassing the man across from me who was apparently in her seat. I offered to share the seat next to me and she responded with a wide smile that lit up her entire face. Through the dozen or so English words that the woman spoke we exchanged names and I learned that Za had 4 children and a police officer husband. Every time she had trouble understanding what I said (which was every time I spoke) Za either slapped or punched me while a girlish squeal escaped her laughing mouth. Za then proceeded to drag me through 12 carts to the canteen for some tea…. Nearly every hour for the duration of the ride. Hyped up on 6 cups of tea (I didn’t want to be rude so I never turned down her offer to buy me another cup) we parted ways as the sun rose over the jungle trees.

The boys and I were able to catch the last speed boat to the Perhentian Islands and held on for dear life as the boat’s driver let a much younger local man drive us. After nearly capsizing has the guy showed off his spin moves, we came to Long Beach. As I reached out to touch the crystal clear blue water I nearly jumped when I found it to be warm. We missioned to our hostel (the most ghetto on the Island but the cheapest!) and enjoyed the first of our Island meals. The next morning the three of us took a meandering path to the local fishing village. Having lunch and buying a few essentials from a market, we headed back around the other side of the Island. After about 200 meters the trail suddenly dead-ended. Half-made anything is not uncommon in these parts so we figured we’d find our own way back to the remainder of the trail. It never showed up. Tiring of climbing through the mozzy filled trees, we clamored out to the rocks and cliffs butting into the ocean. A few hours of less than safe rock scrambles and a few cliff dives (just for fun) we finally arrived back at the beach. My bread was totally smashed but the adventurous journey home was worth it!

While the Spaniards were engrossed in dive school I took the opportunity to explore the rest of the small Island. I told the boys my plan and then headed into the jungle. Quite quickly I came upon the BIGGEST lizard I’ve ever seen in my life! From nose to tail it was easily as long as me and had the girth of a medium sized dog. Once again ditching the jungle for rocks, I made my way along the cliffs to a pristine and secluded beach full of coral and fish. I swam about and nearly drown when I happened upon a school of the BIGGEST fish I’ve ever seen in my life! Gulping down water in my shock, I raced to shore only to laugh at myself for being such a wuss! When I came upon a small shark a few minutes later I was much more composed. The next few days on the Island were filled with morning hikes and swims, lazy afternoons reading, and quite evenings watching the lightening storms in the distant sunsets. The week was as picture perfect as Island life could get and I can’t wait for more of it in Thailand!

-Ash

The One Time a Monkey Tried to Kill Me (and I never exaggerate)

A cat-sized monkey nearly killed me and I never saw it coming.

The entrance to the Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia is located at the top of a massive flight of stairs. These caves are not only guarded by Hindu Gods, but a family of small monkeys patrol the thousands of steps that one must climb to enter. Unfortunately, the monkeys have become totally dependent on treats from tourists for food. Bananas, peanuts, and even cans of soda are steadily given out as the cameras flash. I had just finished taking a few pictures of an adorable mama monkey and her two small babies (without giving treats) and was concentrating on my footing as a continued to climb. Suddenly, out of NOWHERE, this monkey jumps in front of me, bares his fang-like teeth, and growls! I FREAKED! Stepping backwards, I overshot the step below me and would've tumbled down the  hundreds of concrete steps below had I not somehow managed to grab the railing and right myself. The monkey, as if to further mock my wussy reaction, did a somersault, and then sat looking at me as he itched his head.

My mates couldn't control their laughter.   

Looking down at the would-be-monkey-induced deathtrap, I hopped the railing to distance myself from the alpha male and made my way hurriedly to the cave entrance.  The cave was massive, the ceiling being at least two or three stories high. Water cascaded down the walls and green vegetation poked through light-filled holes. It would've been one of the most beautiful things i've ever seen in my life were it not for the men shoving snakes into my face for 'only ten ringget  pitcha lady!' and the stalls full of flashing junk for sale. Despite the commercialization of the natural wonder, I couldn't help but be in aw of its size and magnitude. 

Elly, John, and myself left after a few minutes wandering around. The heat was making us all parched so we walked down the monkey-stair gauntlet and back to the train. The climb and heat had exhausted me, so I took a nap. My own drool woke me up as John and Elly had yet another laugh at my expense. I didn't mind, experiences are much better if you can learn to laugh at yourself. 

So far its been a cruisy week in Malaysia. The two cities i've been in (Melacca and Kuala Lumpur) make me shake my head at my previous perceptions of Asia. Many areas are more developed than some states in the US, a bit more run down and dirty though. I've also been surprised by the massive blend of Buddist, Hindu, Muslim, and Christain followers that all live peacefully in this tropical country. Next up is a week of trekking before we hit the Islands and hopefully avoid the looming monsoons! 

-Ash

Fun Fact: A trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro would probably be easier than navigating the streets around here. Curbs disappear or rise dramatically without warning. Holes and obstacles are like minefields in the streets. Cars and motorcycles fly past chaotically. And you are constantly required to avoid the local predators who attack without warning, wanting you to buy their goods. 

The One Whole Day in Singapore

A little boy stood next to me doing the pee dance. Looking around past the 300 people in line around us, I saw there was no bathroom in sight. As I inched my way closer to the customs official who would scan, stamp, and send me into Singapore, the little boy's pee dance began to resemble John Travolta in Satruday Night Fever. Suddenly, just as I thought the little dude would be part of the 'peeing your pants is cool' club, his mother whipped out a plastic bag, dad yanked down the kids pants, and the toddler tinkled an impressive amount of fluid into the bag. Did I mention this was in the middle of the airport around hundreds of people? I looked around with shocked humor on my face, ready for some reaction from everyone else. Nothing happened. Apparently, this whole peeing in a bag thing is perfectly normal in Asia. Awesome...

Luckily, my experiences in Japan and New York prepared me for the chaos of the train station and massive city life that followed. Surrounded by announcements and a comlpex route map, I somehow managed to get on the right train and off at the right stop. Arriving at my hostel I was immediatly met by the sound of a very loud American man telling anyone within earshot his life story. Typical. After quickly checking in, I locked up my gear and then headed out to grab a feed.

Turning around the corner I came upon a Singapore tattoo shop. This consisted of a table and chair on the sidewalk. There were a few of the artist's examples taped against the side of a building, and a very cheerful man was giving a very drunk guy a massive tattoo. The sign read "Tattoo only $20". Sounded legit. I continued walking. My dinner was a whopping $1.80 USD and it was absolutely delicious. It was getting late and I was tired from a full day traveling so I headed back to the hostel.

A near sleepless night passed (thanks to some jerk with the worst hostel etiquette i've ever encountered) and I was up early to catch a bus into Malaysia. I ventured into the common area and was greeted by the loud American. I somehow got roped into conversation when I asked where the hostel manager was, and soon the guy was giving me his life story (despite me hearing half of it through the walls the night before). Married to his 5th Asian wife, he owned dozens of real estate companies in Hawaii and was in Singapore doing business for the oil being pumped from his property in Pennsylvania. According to him, he wasn't a millionare (yet) but he was very well off. 'If your so well off, why are you staying in the cheapest hostel in Singapore?' I asked. He didn't have a very good response for that one. Creep.

I went to grab a quick shower to try and fend off the sweltering heat. Opening the shower door, I laughed out loud. Smack dab in the middle of the shower stall was a poreclin hole in the ground - the toilet. Apparently this is standard in many parts of Asia and I made a mental note to never try and shower drunk for the duration of my travels. I wouldn't want my foot to end up in a toilet bowl, or try to explain how I injured myself while showering (although it wouldnt be the first time).

Within the hour I was cramming myself onto a public bus (probably a good 12-15 people over max capacity). I was one step closer to Malaysia and very eager to get out of the concrete jungle of Singapore. Negotiating a travel bus to Melacca (or Malaka depending on who you ask), I had a few hours to kill before we were due to depart. I wandered around a shopping plaza, overwhelmed by the smells and sounds of the massive city/country. I tried a few local chocolate pancakes and a ice cold glass of strawberry soy milk. Full and ready to go, I boarded the bus heading north into Malaysia and was really on my way to start what I hope will be one of the biggest adventures of my life!

-Ash

Fun Fact: I accidently burned myself walking too close to a metal trash can. Apparently some shops opt to burn their trash rather than deal with the city's garbage disposal system. Not very eco friendly eh?

The One in Aussie Land with the Ginger and the Doc

Brent is your typical Aussie bloke from Down Under. He’s not the Crocodile Dundee jackaroo or the sun-kissed blond surfer glorified in American media. Rather, he’s a freckled footy-playing ginger proudly waiting for what he calls the “Ranga Revolition!” (‘ranga’, short for orangutan, meaning redhead…I haven’t figured out if ‘ranga’ is slang or a naughty word yet). I’ve spent the past week getting to know the rellies from Down Under; who are relatives that I claim as my own but are actually related to my daycare mom Desi. Relishing in the thick Aussie accents, charm, and incredibly obliging hospitality, I’ve have had a much-needed break from the wonderful chaos, and not so wonderful cold of New Zealand.

The weather here has been pristine, and with a host who lives next to the beach, who wouldn’t be enjoying every minute? Now it hasn’t all been beaches and books. Brent and I have had a few adventures during my short stay. Last week we ventured to a park where wild parrots hastily ate seed from the palm of our hands, and then on the way home we spotted a few adorable wild kangaroos. Next was a trip to hike up the lush mountainside of Mt Warning to summit for a stunning 360-degree view of the Gold Coast. 4 hours and as many ankle-rolls later, and we were happily off our feet and headed home to catch a professional soccer match. Although the game wasn’t spectacular, the crowd was highly entertaining. Fans from both teams took part in a cultivated rivalry of chants, song, and hilarious heckling. I would share more details but, much of what came out of their mouths would’ve been cause for a lifetime ban if ever at a sporting event in the US… in case you didn’t know, Americans are extremely uptight and overly PC in comparison to most of the western world – especially in regard to sports and television. 

I was lucky enough to catch-up with a rugby teammate who used to be nicknamed Abzilla (if you ever watched her play, the name makes sense). Seeing as she’s in med school and on her way to becoming a real-life Medical Doctor, I’ve come to terms with just calling her Abby. I made it to Abby’s house minutes before her awesome boyfriend Jason got home from a short trip in New Zealand. The three of us ate a scrumptious treat of cornbread and chili for dinner (a meal nearly extinct on this side of the world) and caught up on life. Yesterday we took to the city via water taxi. Starting off with a quick dip in the beach/lagoon located in the middle of the city, we then toured the museum and metro art gallery. Couldn’t say I was too impressed with the art (weirded out mostly) but I’m a sucker for museums and had a blast learning about the history and culture of this unique country. All too soon I found myself bidding farewell to my rugby sister and boarded the train back to the beaches. 

After a lovely day spent touring the beach city of Burleigh with Ronelle, I found myself in the midst of a wonderfully welcoming family dinner. Over a Chinese smorgasbord we swapped stories and laughter as if we’ve been doing it for years. After just a few short days spent here, I’ve decided I’m absolutely going to have to come back for more!

I guess that run-down of the past week’s events doesn’t sound too ‘cruisy’, but in comparison to the last 13 months, this as been the most relaxing week in a while! So in preparation for Asia I’ve read almost zero literature, have had a handful of conversations about the do’s and don’ts, and have packed the bare essentials needed for my trip (haha)… guess they don’t call it ‘flying by the seat of your pants’ for nothing!

Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia – HERE I COME!

-Ash

Fun Fact: It is mandatory for every citizen over the age of 18 to vote in Australia. Failure to do so results in an expensive fine!

The One with the Bus Trip Blues

I expected my exit from New Zealand to be at least a little dramatic. Tears? Yes. Forgetting important things? Check. Feeling suddenly unprepared for what lies in my immediate future? Uh-huh. What I didn’t plan for was the bus ride to Christchurch.

I was a bit suspicious when the first thing out of the bus driver’s mouth was ‘I’ve never driven this puppy before, so we’ll see how she goes!’ Boy were those ill-fated words.

Despite the bus being 30 minutes early, we left 5 minutes late due to a young 20-something’s inability to pry her face from a blonde-haired trendy looking guy who undoubtedly was a checkbox on her ‘things to do abroad’ list. Watching the long exchange of tears and saliva jump-started the inevitable queasiness that accompanies me on long windy roads. Once Romeo and Juliet had finally parted, the bus lurched and shook into gear as it pulled away from the adventurous ski town that had become my second home.

Promptly feeling overtly sick, I moved from the middle of the bus to the very front. This move did not make the frozen bus feel any warmer, but did help a smidgen with the motion sickness. Feeling tired and very sad to be leaving so many good mates and incredible people, I was not in the mood to listen as the guy behind me began singing aloud (in German?) to rap music spilling raucously from his headphones. His yammering was accompanied by a very elderly lady who continuously hacked and coughed her lungs halfway up her throat. To be fair I felt bad for the old grandma, but the Eminem wannabe? I could’ve strangled him!

By the time we arrived at our second stop in Wanaka the driver looked thoroughly stressed-out by the uncooperative gears. Half asleep, I was suddenly woken-up by the horrible stench of body odor and cigarettes. Peeking one eye open, I found the culprit sitting directly in front of me. He was oblivious to the fact that his odor could be bottled and used in germ warfare, but then again, aren’t the smelly ones always unaware that they are poisoning a 10 foot radius around themselves? The only thing that made sitting near him bearable was being able to inwardly laugh as Grandma decided to strike up a conversation with the obviously non-English speaking stinker. His inability to respond with anything but “yes” and looking bewildered and confused didn’t slow Grandma’s motor mouth down one bit! Smiling, I nibbled on my Maramite and mayo sandwich and enjoyed the show.

It was about twenty minutes post-sandwich when I realized we were moving exceptionally slow. The driver seemed to be frantically pushing and pulling at the gear shifter before giving up and pulling over. A frustrated sigh and short phone-call later and we were given the news: the clutch was out and we would have to wait for a replacement bus. Not in a rush to be anywhere, I quietly opened a book to pass the time. Mr. Gingerbeard from Australia and Supertourist Man from England had different ideas. The two responded with a string of curse words uncleverly directed toward the driver, the bus company, and New Zealand in general. They then heatedly (and loudly) debated on how unbearably long it would take for the new bus to arrive. After it was settled that it would be NO LESS THAN 3 BLEEPIN’ HOURS (!!!), Gingerbeard heavily paced the isle, slamming things in the overhead bin and muttering obscenities in a thick Aussie accent.

For the next 45 minutes I had the pleasure of listening as a girl (who had obviously spent hours in the early morning agonizing over her hair, makeup, and outfit before getting onto a bus full of hungover strangers) texted the contents of her entire iPhone contact list and probably updated her Facebook and Twitter profiles about our doomed bus status. If the tick-tick-tick of Paris Hilton wasn’t enough to distract me from my book, smelly dude busted out some fish-casserole lunch thing that nearly smelled worse than he did. Good grief. Would this ever end?

Over an hour later the new bus arrived. We all cheered before grabbing our gear and settling into our new abode for the next 8 hours. The fresh transport didn’t last long. After climbing through a particularly steep mountain pass the bus overheated and we were forced to wait (yet again) for a replacement. This time the wait wasn’t too arduous. Bus #3 arrived just as Gingerbeard was gearing up to launch into another tirade. It was smooth sailing from there. Kind of. A broken heater combined with an unsealed door created fridge-like temperatures while an unpleasant high-pitched alarm intermittently sounded from the dash. But hey, at least we were moving!

Arriving in Christchurch, my post-broken tailbone SCREAMING for pressure relief, I happily departed the bus. With the first leg of my trip to Asia in the bag, I can venture a guess that things will either get easier from here, or (more likely) I’ll be prepared for more of the same shenanigans!

-       Ash

Fun Fact: I just became the first person IN NEW ZEALAND to pay a parking fine at the new City Council Building in Christchurch. Got my receipt to prove it…even if the cute old lady did have to write it out on a hot pink post-it note!