Japan (Kobe): Post India Thoughts - Cheap Update

It has been a few weeks now since my journeys came to an official end (according to my travel insurance provider). After leaving India, I stopped off briefly in Kuala Lumpur, visited my BFAM (Brutha From Anutha Mutha) Hiro and his family and then continued on to Japan.


In Japan, I spent a couple of weeks visiting classes at various universities to talk about my travels. It was good to see folks and eat good food and be clean again. However, I was somewhat surprised and delighted to find that I was actually anxious to leave Japan. Couldn't wait to get back here to the good ole US of A.

For some reason, I find it really difficult to sit down to writing about what happened during that time I was off at LAFTI. I don't think that I have fully processed the experience and as I sit here typing, I realize that part of me doesn't particularly care to revisit the experience for some reason. Also mixed in there is a little of my patented slothy lazy no good procrastinator juice. Okay...maybe more than just a little.

At some point, though, I'm gonna need to do this.

India (Chennai): In the Airport

Well folks, it's time for Monkey Man to say goodbye to Mother India. It's been great, but it is time indeed to leave.

So it's off to Kuala Lumpur from here where I need to line up a ticket to get me back to Nippon for the wrap up before my grand and much anticipated return to the US. At some point, when I get some time to sit down with a decent connection to the net, I'll share some interesting stories with y'all of my (mis)adventures over these past few weeks.

Interestingly enough, I managed to get through most of my trip here without really getting seriously ripped off...that is until these past few days when I actually started shopping for souvenirs to bring back to the kiddies back home (don't get those expectations up too high, you little squirts). Pretty much every purchase I made, I got charged double to triple what I should have. Moto drivers all delighted in quoting me fares that were also double to triple what I had been told they would be. The kicker was getting ripped off even here in the airport. You've gotta know your prices and know how to bargain even in the frickin' international terminal of the Chennai Airport. A sweets shop owner took me for a nice little ride on a purchase for a friend...but hey, I'm outtie, the trip has been overall good, the sums I've been cheated of are nothing in US or Japanese currency, and it's Diwali Eve everyone!!! Happy Diwali to all (and I'm betting it's gonna be especially happy for all those wily merchants who duped this poor, tired, dopey traveler out of his Gandhi bills)!!!

One love, peeps. Happy Halloween.

India (Tamil Nadu) - Sink or Swim at LAFTI

(The following is the text I entered into the LAFTI site shortly after arriving at LAFTI)

Two nights ago, I arrived at the LAFTI headquarters here in Kuthur. After a night’s rest, I accompanied Amma (Krishnamal) and some of the staff out to a village where LAFTI had erected new homes for people and is helping with the acquisition and distribution of fertilizer.

We then traveled to another village in which many people had lost their homes to the tsunami. Amma is bringing the home building program there with the ambition of providing people with solid homes made of brick to replace the thatch and mud huts they lost in the disaster.

We then made a whirlwind tour of the area that I assume was for my benefit. I was shown homes that LAFTI has erected and many more that are still in mid construction; vast expanses of rich green fertile lands Appa (Jagannathan) freed up through a titanic struggle that he won only after a climactic fast that lasted for 13 days; the area where the terrible massacre of dalit women and children occurred that prompted Amma and Appa to move here; the hostel which LAFTI maintains for roughly 80 girls who would otherwise be unable to attend school because of the remote locations of their homes; the huge tracts of land that continue to be used illegally as prawn farms despite an order from the supreme court for their dismantlement; and the 5 kilometer long wall LAFTI mobilized people to build in order to protect farming land from the devastating floods caused by the presence of the prawn farms.

Before I continue any further, I should introduce myself. My name is Tatsu. I am originally from Japan, but from the age of four, I was raised in the United States (Seattle and Oakland/San Francisco). I returned to Japan immediately after graduating from college and worked for the past seven years as a teacher and administrator in the public school system. At the end of this past school year in March, I left my job to see some of the world. My travels have thus far taken me through Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Singapore. I arrived in India for the first time in my life two weeks ago.

I was introduced to LAFTI through David (Willis) and it was his encouragement that prompted me to come here. David (Albert) and Aliyah have entrusted maintenance of the blog to me for the duration of my stay here. To my surprise though, it looks as if this will be my only entry.

Shortly before leaving the ashram for the tour, Amma told me that she had plans for me. The next morning (today), I was to be dropped off in a small village called Porkkalakudi. There, it would be my task to work with a LAFTI worker already posted there to set up (1) a nursery school program, (2) a baby chick(en) inoculation and distribution program and (3) a drumstick plant cultivation program.

This morning, I got up and hopped on the back of a motorcycle with Veerasami who took me out to Porkkulakudi. I was introduced to the woman who is to be my partner in this project, Kanakhi, who has been posted in Porkkulakudi since early September. Veerasami explained that I was to be her new partner. She explained that someone in the village had passed away the previous evening so she was postponing the launch of the nursery school program for a couple of days and thus my presence was not yet needed. Inside, I breathed a guilty sigh of relief.

Up until today, my entire vocabulary in the Tamil language has been only nunri (‘Thank you’), vanakam (basic word of greeting) and the names of several basic food items (idly, dosa, sambar). As I understand it, pretty much nobody in the village speaks either English or Japanese, the only two languages in which I have proficiency. As for plant cultivation, I am renowned far and wide only for my ability to inadvertently bring an early and painful death to any plant placed under my care.

I am hoping that my saving grace will be the extensive experience I’ve had with working with children of all ages in Japan. It’s hard, however, to not feel like I’m being asked to jump out of a fast moving vehicle on the highway; gotta hit the ground running or else fall flat on my face.

India: Perusing My Online Photos

For those of you who are interested in going through the pictures I have taken thus far on my journey, you may find the following two links useful:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67916188@N00/tags/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/26952510@N00/tags/

These links lead to the tag directories of my two photo album accounts on flickr. Please do feel free to make comments on the pictures but please keep the language rated G; my students are also looking at the pictures.

India (Madurai): Off to LAFTI

At long last, the holding pattern I was in as I awaited clearance from LAFTI to head on out there has come to an end. Today, I will hop on the bus out to the small village of Kuthur, where LAFTI is based. I'm still not exactly sure what I'm going to be doing when I get there, but my first goal is to try to stay out from underfoot of everybody else. My second goal is to make myself useful as quickly as is possible.

I have already proven to be ridiculously bad at maintaining this blog and especially the blog I set up in Japanese. But once I reach LAFTI, I'm supposed to be making entries to yet another blog - The LAFTI blog (see links in sidebar) - so please forgive me if this blog once again sees very little activity for the next month or so while I am out there. As the LAFTI blog is fairly serious, I guess this blog will have to serve as the repository of all of my stupid, inane, shallow, childish thoughts and observations... so uh, I guess not much will be changing. In any case, lots of love to you all. I gots me a bus to catch.

India (Madurai): Quake in Kashmir

As most of you doubtless already know, a terrible earthquake struck the Kashmir region of North India/Pakistan a couple of days ago. The casualty numbers coming out of there are truly horrific. Yesterday, the estimate was roughly 2000 dead. Today, the estimate has made the incredible leap to over 30,000 dead and the number is only expected to keep rising. The UN says 2.5 million are now without shelter.

It is apparently the worst natural disaster in the history of Pakistan and the worst earthquake to hit the region in the past century. The scale of destruction looks to be at least on par with the December earthquake in Iran two years ago.

As a note to those of you who may be worried about me, please rest assured that I am fine. The quake struck Pakistan and the northernmost regions of India. I am in Tamil Nadu, the southernmost state of India and about as far away as one can get from the earthquake zone and still remain within India (roughly analogous to me being in Texas when a quake hits Maine). Please do not worry about me. Please do, however, worry about the people in the earthquake stricken region.

For those of you that pray, please pray for the millions who have been caught in this destruction. For those of you can afford to, please consider making an aid donation.

India (Madurai): How Many Indians Can You Fit in a Bus?

This'll be a quick post because the mosquitoes in this internet cafe are tearing up my feet right now. You know, as I was leaving my room I thought to myself, "maybe I should bring my repellant...naaaaaah." Smart. Really smart.

So back to the story. Upon reaching Ernakulum, I caught a moto over to the bus terminal and purchased a ticket for a seat on the overnight "superfast" bus service to Madurai. I had been warned by Ananda's sister to specifically request a seat on the bus lest I wind up standing for the ride, so I did so, but felt a bit unsure as to the necessity of such a request. Surely, for an overnight busride of 10 hours, everyone's gonna have a seat, right? Indian people couldn't possibly be that hardcore, right?

I get onto the bus and lo and behold, there are actually a number of open seats. Nobody is sitting in the seat next to me so I spread out comfortably between the two seats (a single seat actually being too narrow in the firstplace to accomodate even the width of my shoulders) and wait for the bus to take off at 7:45.

At 7:44 and 59 seconds, a hoarde of additional passengers materialize out of nowhere and crowd onto the bus. The empty seats are quickly filled and a large sweaty man who smells like he's been sweating for a while seats himself next to me. In order for both of us to fit, his legs are part way out in the aisle, I'm sitting with my shoulders hunched inwards. People continue to board and there are now people standing in the aisle.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I think, looking up at the poor souls without seats. The bus rumbles to life and off we go beeping and honking into the chaotic maelstrom of the city traffic. We drive along for about 5 minutes before we stop at an intersection - to allow more passengers to board!!!

"Holy sh--," I mumble to myself as we speed off, the aisle now jammed full of people.

Unbelievably, we continue along for only a few more minutes before we stop yet again to pick up passengers. And then again. And again. The aisle of the bus is now completely filled with men and I am feeling very thankful for my seat indeed. And at the same time, a little bit guilty. I thought Tokyo rush hour was bad, but seeing this, I now realize how comfortable that rush hour is. At least in Tokyo, there is air conditioning, the ride is reasonably smooth (no potholes on the railway) and it only lasts at max an hour or two. This is ten frickin' hours. At this point, I'm thinking to myself Indian people have got to be the most hard-core bad mutha's on the face of the planet. Not a single complaint, not a single groan. Just all these men standing crammed into the aisle of this bus as it races through the night and out into the countryside. All of them sweaty, stinky and stoic.

An hour or so of this later, we reach a stop (where, I know not) and I am relieved to watch a number of the passengers disembark. More get on to replace some, but not all. This unloading and loading of passengers happens again a few times through the night and in the end (after about 3 hours or so) nobody is standing in the aisle.

As we hurtle through the darkness of the night, passing through the outskirts of Ernakulum and then other towns, I see huge homes that in the darkness for some reason remind of large beautiful homes in New England. I can almost smell the crisp autumn air of October in Massachussetts and I find myself longing desperately to be back in the US. I wonder also who lives in these big homes...and what kinds of lives they lead.

Somewhere a bit before 5am, we finally pull into the bus station on the outskirts of Madurai. It is still dark so I decide to wait until the sunrise before making a move. I have slept very little through the night, but to keep me company, I have a swarm of moto drivers around me for the next couple of hours badgering me to let one of them take me into town.

India (Ernakulum): Ferry Encounters

This morning I woke up after a solid nights sleep and started packing up. After a few days of getting myself recharged on good food and quiet surroundings, I find myself wanting to get back out and experience the rush of life over here again.

I walked down to the waterfront and thought to myself, 'I've been here long enough. Surely I should be able to handle eating food from a street hawker.' So, I wandered along and as I passed one particularly busy hawker stall, a number of the customers seemed to notice my lingering gaze and looked up at me in interest. One of them, a young man who looked to be in his twenties, called out, "My friend, come. My friend.!" He pulled out a stool next to him and gestured for me to sit down.

So I sat down and had the "I'll have what he's having" plate. It turned out to be a tasty fish curry served with a couple of dosai. The price for the meal was less than half of what I've been paying for other meals in this, the tourist enclave of the town. As I ate, I thought to myself, 'Boy, I've been missing out. Why didn't I try this sooner?!'

My answer came as I was walking back to my guesthouse and started to feel the first sharp stabbing pains in my stomach.

Wonderful timing. Just as I'm getting ready to leave and I get my first case of...something. As I had not yet checked out, I lay down on my bed hoping the pain would go away. It didn't. I started to toy with the idea of staying another night. But my stubborness won out over my good sense. Check out time came so I checked out. But I still wasn't in any shape to move. So I sat in a chair to try to wait out the pain.

Meanwhile, a major cricket match between India and Australia was playing out on the TV. From my seat, I could also see out the front door to the old parade ground where school boys in blue slacks and short sleeve light blue collared shirts were scatttered about playing there own games of cricket. Drooling from the pain of indigestion, I sat and occupied my mind trying to figue out the rules governing this sport which so enthralls the male populations of India and Pakistan.

I never did figure out the rules for cricket, but for some reason, the pain eventually passed (without even a trip to the WC!). I grabbed my bags and (ignoring the advice of one of the people running the guest house to use a moto and make reservations for the bus leaving from the island) set off to catch the ferry for Ernakulum.

As I stood waiting for the ferry, somebody put his hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Ananda (Surya), a local poet and environmental activist, whom I had met the previous day when I wandered randomly into his wife's art gallery. When we met, he had noticed the copy of "Globalization and Its Discontents" I was carrying and had asked me about my thoughts on globalization. Just as our conversation was starting though, he had to run off to take care of some other business.

"I guess there must be a reason for us meeting again," I said without thinking.
"I agree," Ananda replied. He was there with his sister who had just returned on a flight from Germany earlier in the morning.
"We were not able to complete our meeting properly yesterday, so now we have our chance," said Ananda as we hopped onto the ferry.

On the ferry, Ananda had me pull out my guidebook. Turning to the section on Tiruvannamalai he said, "Here is where I live. This is my address and contact information. When you get the chance, you should come visit me so that we can perhaps deepen our relationship. And Tiruvannamali is a very spiritual place...even by Indian standards."

Oops. Out of time. More later.

India (Kochi) - The Fort

After a few days of sitting around in the ashram eating mushy food and watching devoted from around the world go about their daily solemn meditation and yoga and all that good stuff, I decided it was time to move on. All of that silence, deep thought, people clad in white atmosphere, people going on in bliss about "Did you see her?!!" was for some reason getting me into a funk. That and reading Gandhiji's autobiography. Great guy, but all the stuff about his experiments in diet and eating only fruits and nuts to subdue his "animal" appetites was seriously getting me down. I have always looked up to Gandhi and aspired to be like him, but I guess one doesn't get to be a mahatma without sacrifice. Too bad I like my meat, sweets, pizza and other sinful indulgences too much.

Anyway, hopped on the boat around midday to continue the journey up to Allepey. Considered staying a night in Allepey (dubbed the Venice of India because of its extensive canal network) but instead threw in my lot with a Spanish couple and gentleman from France who were on my boat and in a hurry to reach Kochi. I felt pangs of regret at first, wondering if perhaps I had given up the chance to see someplace beautiful and make some good new friendships (as it is low season and tourists are few in numbers here), but those pangs were dispelled as I spoke with the Spanish woman on the taxi ride up about the fascinating path she had taken over the past couple of decades from being a casual backpacker to a tour guide to the owner of several small shops in Spain selling goods from India and SE Asia. I learned a great deal.

Upon reaching Kochi, we found rooms in the old fort area. I was blown away. So quiet. So beautiful. And so clean. Unbelievably clean. No people defecating or urinating on the side of the road (to be fair though, I've only seen people defecating on the street a couple of times), garbage in predetermined places, lots of greenery, a minimum of traffic, no cows wandering around grazing on roadside garbage...The rooms of my homestay place even are amazing - the walls are freshly painted, the floor is so clean I can actually see my reflection in it (as opposed to most of the floors I have experienced thus far that have been covered in dust, various foodstuffs and insects) and I don't have to deal with a perpetual stench from my bathroom area.

The next morning, I arose and took a walk around the area to discover a place that is peaceful, green and beautiful. Old churches are everywhere(By some accounts, Christianity first reached here in the first century AD, well before it managed to get a foothold in Europe) and old colonial buildings make up the rest of what is to be found here. Boys play cricket in the open grass field (the old parade grounds) between my guesthouse and St. Francis Church (the oldest church erected by Europeans in Asia which was the first resting place of Vasco de Gama's remains when he died).



Yes. That's right folks. Ashamed though I am to admit it, the reason I'm liking it so much here has a lot to do with the fact that the colonial era left this place so European looking.



But then yesterday night, I crossed the bridges over to the neighboring city of Ernakulum and yes, it was a return to the beep-beep honk honk chaos, but things are still much cleaner and less chaotic than Madurai. In fact, things are downright prosperous.

Sigh. One of the major discoveries I've made on this trip is what a wussy I am. There are only so many days that I can stand breathing and walking in and sleeping in filth and noise before I start to crave a nice, clean, quiet room to recharge in. And I like being clean. And shaven. And I have the nerve to complain about my room stinking and being dirty when I see things like a woman and her children sleeping out on one of those aforementioned dusty, dirty, stinky, garbage-strewn streets.

India (Kerala) - Great Souls

Set out from Madurai at the beginning of last week to visit a Buddhist monk friend of Sekar's. The monk, Ishitani-ji, is originally from Hokkaido and first came to India back in the late 1960s when he was about my age now. At the time, the Vietnam War was raging. Fed up with the Japanese government and society in general, Ishitani-ji left to travel the world. His first stop was India. And he never made it any further.

In India, Ishitani-ji met a Japanese Buddhist monk, Fujii Nichidatsu,who had come to India to help bring Buddhism back to the land of its birth (Buddhism, for the most part, had disappeared from the subcontinent). In the course of his work, Fujii became friends with Gandhi-ji who called him "Fujii Guruji."

Until meeting Fujii Guruji, young Ishitani-ji viewed religion in general as a bunch of lies and was uninterested. Yet, this monk had something about him, something that he somehow felt he needed to be near. So Ishitani-ji stayed on and walked (literally) with this monk throughout India. In the course of it all, he became a disciple and eventually successor.


The particular sect of Buddhism he belongs to is firmly committed to peace. They are the same ones who build peace pagodas all over the world. And they are serious about this commitment...serious to the point that Ishitani-ji, for instance, went into Sri Lanka during the peak of the civil war and tried to the stop fighting. He told me one particularly harrowing story of being put up against a wall by the military and fired upon by a machine gun because he had plunked himself down in the middle of a battle scene and refused to get out of the way until everybody stopped fighting. They were only trying to scare him, but shortly thereafter, another monk who had come with him did end up getting shot to death (executed) by rebels.


In any case, after years of being based at a temple located adjacent to the Gandhi Memorial Museum in Madurai, he is now in a place called Shakarancoil (sp?), a dry, dusty and poor town which to me seemed like the middle of nowhere. He is trying to build a temple and a peace pagoda there on land donated to him by a wealthy Hindu patron.


I stayed out at the under-construction-temple with Ishitani-ji and two nuns, trying to help out where I could and asking questions at night of the three about their faith and their lives. Despite all the hammering and sawing noise of the day, the temple was a blissfully peaceful change from the BEEP-BEEP-HONK-HONK-BEEEEEP-CLANG cacophony and choking pollution of Madurai (FUN FACT: breathing the air in most major Indian cities for a day is something equivalent to smoking 2 packs of cigarettes...this is a significant improvement as only several years ago, the estimate was closer to 3 packs).

Friday came and I decided I should be moving along, so I hopped the train down south and then through the Ghats to the west, arriving that afternoon in Kollam, Kerala.

Kollam (Quilon) lies at the southern edge of Kerala's famous Backwaters (one of the towns along it, Kottayam, being Arundhati Roy's hometown and setting of her book "The God of Small Things"). The town was small and noisy, but seemed markedly more peaceful than Madurai. Also, a shopping complex that looked like it could have been lifted straight out of Kuala Lumpur or someplace in LA gave me my first glimpse of life for the much talked about growing middle class of India.



After staying one night, I hopped on a Backwater tourist cruise heading for Allepey. For the first time since entering India, I was with other tourists. I was at once disappointed and yet at the same time felt a sense of relief that made me feel a bit ashamed.

The Backwater is truly beautiful, made all the more beautiful by the stark contrast all the greenery and the dreamily slow life along its shores makes to the chaotic jumble of cities I've experienced thus far.

Partway up the route, we were scheduled to make a brief stop at Amritapuri, the site of an ashram devoted to one of India's most famous living mahatmas, "The Hugging Mother." I had read about it in the guidebook, but was stunned by the sheer size of the place - a city of devotees and pilgrims in the middle of a sea of palm trees. Several of the other passengers were getting off to stay for a night so I decided "What the heck" and hopped off. When we arrived, "Amma," as the mahatma is called by most, was giving her last day of dharshan (literally, "glimpse of God"), which here takes the form of her hugging each and everyone of her visitors, before getting ready to leave on a tour of Europe and US for the next several months.

It is estimated that to date, Amma has hugged over 3 million people. I am now one of them.

People say that they feel as if they have been imbued with energy or "cleansed" when they receive this hug. As I stood in line waiting for my hug, I asked myself what question I might have for Amma or what burden I might need her help with. And all I came up with was the conviction that the things I need to tackle are things that I must tackle on my own. So perhaps for that reason, the hug I received seemed to be only that to me; a hug.

Okay, running out of time, so this will have to be continued later. And to be fair, Amma's story is pretty incredible. Try googling her and see what you think.

Right now, still at the ashram (have stayed for two nights) doing some meditating on life. But more on that later (perhaps after I get up to Kochin in a few days). Thanks to Ishitani-ji and to Amma for setting me to the task of doing some long-neglected introspection and deep thinking.

Ahh, and a big shout out to Gandhi-ji (whose autobiography I am reading now); today is his birthday.

And to all of you:
Om Shanti Om

India (Madurai) - Mountain Temple

Today, I caught the bus outside of town to Alagar Koyil ('koyil' means 'temple'). The busride was long and crowded; most of the passengers on the bus were pilgrims heading out to the temple as well.

The bus stopped at the base of mountain road leading up to the temple. I hopped out ahead of the crowd to begin the ascent upwards. The sun beat down ferociously from above so I tied my Khmer scarf around my head for protection. After walking for a few minutes, I passed a Dravidian man who was also making his way up the mountain. He looked at me quizzically and asked me something in Tamil. All I could do was just look at him. He gestured and seemed to be a bit agitated about something. What could I do? I just looked at him, cocked my head and smiled. He smiled in return and then wandered into the shade to sit down, muttering something to himself.

It was only a bit later that I figured out he was probably trying to tell me that the hot asphalt road I was walking along was primarily intended for those making the ascent by bus, car or motorcycle. The path for those on foot was down below, under the shade of the trees. Oops.

After winding my way down a small trail from the main road to the footpath, things were markedly less hot. Families, couples and groups of young boys walked laughing and joking up the mountain.

And then there were the monkeys.

Lots of aggressive, crazy looking monkeys, all keenly watching us humans for signs of food and any hints of weakness. Heading up the mountain, I saw monkeys swoop down a couple of times on little kids and then run off, leaving the kids crying and minus whatever food it was they had been carrying. These attacks prompted me to spend a few minutes searching around for a nice, long walking stick (to whoop some monkey ass should any decide to step).

As I neared the top of the mountain, I noticed a number of men and boys passing me on their way back, all with freshly shaven heads covered in some type of yellowish paste.

At the top of the mountain road, I removed my shoes along with everybody else for the final climb up the steps to the temple. The temple was covered in monkeys hopping around its edges, scooping up puffed rice and other food dropped upon the ground and steps. Inside, devotees descended down to an area where they walked through showers of water from the sacred waterfall at the heart of the temple. Where the head shaving happened, I never quite figured out.

Madurai- My Fancy Room

Madurai- My Fancy Room
Originally uploaded by Tatsu2.

Just in case any of you are interested, this is a picture of the room I've been staying in for the past few days here in Madurai. Hooray for backpacker high living.

Madurai - Countryside

Natham Market - Betel Nut Merchant

I'm absolutely loving it here in Madurai. I got down here a few days back and since arriving have been privileged to have Sekar, Prof. Willis's "brother," showing me around and plugging me into life here. Yesterday, he rang me up in the morning and invited me to head out on a ride with him.

The day was sunny and beautiful as we drove north beyond the edges of Madurai and out into the countryside. We stopped first at a farm where Sekar checked in with the villager who is maintaining the plot of land he owns. We then continued onwards to stop briefly at a Gandhian NGO center that trains activists from throughout the country in non-violent means of achieving social and economic reform in their communities.

After parking his bike a short ways down the road from the NGO center, Sekar led me onto a passing bus which took us out to the small town of Natham. Sunday is the day of the weekly market in Natham, which we spent the afternoon wandering around in. The market was bursting with life and color, vibrant and beautiful.

It was too good to pass up the opportunity to take a photo or two, so with the help of Sekar,I asked a couple of the merchants if it would be okay to photograph them. The merchants cheerfully agreed, I took the pictures and then I showed them the shots on my digital cameras display screen.

My photo subjects were surprised to be able to see the photos instantly displayed. The excitement seemed to spread quickly through the marketplace. Next thing I knew, merchants from throughout the market were waving me over and coming to fetch me to come and take their photos. By the end of it all, I had a data card full of beautiful photos and a marketplace full of new friends.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67916188@N00/tags/nathammarket/

Madurai - Meenakshi Temple

Got up early this morning and walked down the street to finally check out Sri Meenakshi Temple, the most sacred place to visit in south India for Hindus. The famous gates were spectacular, massive and covered with hundreds upon hundreds of statues of various Hindu deities. Inside the labyrinthine complex itself, I was reminded of Angkor Wat, only here, the temple is still very much alive, a site of worship used continuously for nearly half a millenium.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67916188@N00/tags/srimeenakshitemple/

India (Madurai) - Kinder, Gentler Globalization?

Today I joined Sekar and his students on a field trip out to Teddy Exports, an operation set up by an Irish woman named Amanda Murphy in the 1990s that weds globalized business with community development.

At Teddy Exports, workers make a variety of products - from wooden massage rollers to shoulder bags to Christmas potpurri sacks - which are purchased by a number of major global retailers, its primary customer being The Body Shop.

At Teddy Exports, 55% of the workers are women and a number come from disadvantaged backgrounds (HIV positive, physically/mentally challenged, etc.). Men and women receive equal wages (that by local standards are very good), full medical coverage and inclusion in a pension fund. But that's not all.

The profits are used to fund a variety of services for the workers and the surrrounding community - a primary school and junior high for local children (including those with special needs) with free transportation, uniforms, books and food; a clinic providing medical services for free to employees and for only the most minimum of charges for others in the community; veterinary services; a special night school for children who work during the day in a nearby candle factory; and a variety of assorted other services.

In addition to all of the above, a portion of the profits is used to fund a concerted anti-HIV campaign directed towards sex workers in the area and their primary customers, lorry (truck) drivers who pass through onto other parts of India (thus supposedly making them the primary vector by which the disease is spreading through the subcontinent).

Sekar and his wife, Vidya, both seemed to be particularly impressed by the safety standards maintained for the workers when we visited the nearby woodshop factory (which, incidentally, had been turned over to senior employees who are its major shareholders) - workers were provided with protective visors, earplugs and masks.

I was impressed by the way in which Teddy Exports is doing so much for the community in which it is based while at the same time managing to turn robust profits. Seeing Teddy Exports strengthened my conviction that I've really got to learn more about business, management and finance if I want to do some good for the world beyond mere lip service.

There were some concerns expressed however. What happens when The Body Shop is gone? What happens when the demand for the products that Teddy Exports makes dries up abroad? None of the products that are made at Teddy are made for local consumption (indeed, just one of the wooden massage rollers produced at Teddy Exports retails in the UK for something that probably equivalent to a week's worth of wages for the worker who helped to make it).

INDIA (Chennai): Landing

Well, earlier today, I sat down and started to write my first blog entry in over a month. And then, the computer connection went down, taking along with all of the wonderful things I had written.

Such is life. Of the many wonderful things that I have gotten out this trip thus far, one is the understanding that (at least on the road) things rarely worked out as planned but things will work out somehow. And lost work is lost work. No use crying over spilled milk. Unfortunately, internet costs money and takes time that I could be spending "out there" living life, so I'm afraid that I'm gonna have to leave this entry short (especially since I've gotta run and get checked out of this expensive hotel pretty soon before I get slapped with another night's worth of charges).

I touched down in Chennai last night after a 8 hour journey that started in Kuala Lumpur, stopped briefly in Singapore and required a transfer in Colombo (Sri Lanka). It was a bit past 9pm by the time I cleared customs and immigration so there wasn't much that I could see of the city once I got outside of the airport. Naturally, there was an army of taxi and auto-rickshaw drivers waiting eagerly outside to offer me a ride into town, but I politely refused all of them and instead walked around asking for directions from folks to the nearby train station. Until I cleared the parking lot, I was trailed by one particularly persistent taxi driver, but he was harmless enough and not nearly as persistent as the drivers in Phnom Penh.

Once out on the main road, I noticed street hawkers and people buying late meals...and mixed in with all of that were men relieving themselves only steps away. Not the most appetizing combination I'd ever seen, but as I continued to walk along, things seemed not nearly as "developing" as I had feared it might be based upon the reports of others.

The train station was not too far away and it was simple enough to catch a train to the central train station here in Egmore (where I'm staying). The ride was pleasant and I was impressed by the massiveness of the train. I also felt a bit surprised at how pleasantly unhumid the air was (and is) compared to most of the places I had visited during my journeys through SE Asia. Even though it was night, I also felt struck somewhat by the colors. On the train, The lighting and paint gave everything a bluish hue and in the streets, everything glowed orange. Colors in general seemed distinct and primary, as if chosen from a crayola box of 8.



Upon reaching Egmore, I wandered the streets for about 30 minutes before finding the hotel I had called from the airport. I was a bit thirsty and hungry, but reluctant to consume anything, fearing the "Delhi Belly" I have been told by so many will be an inevitable part of my experience here.

After sleeping in late, I began my day by writing the blog entry that I lost. I was even more hungry and thirsty, but still wanting to put off my first encounter with the food. I'm supposed to be meeting up with friends of Prof. Willis (my virtual dad in Kobe) while I'm here but failed to make contact during the morning.

Oops. Running out of time. Gotta work on the concise writing thing. More later.

CAMBODIA (Phnom Penh): Night Arrival

I received mail recently from a good friend saying how pleased he was to see that my blog entries were becoming shorter and ever-more infrequent. He sees it as an indication that I am finally getting into my travels properly. I thank him and all of you who have been kind enough to view my lapses in reporting in such a favorable light.

I would like to think that the analysis is good one. Everyday is a joy to awaken and everyday there is so much to see and learn. I have been on the road long enough now to realize how silly my worrying and nervousness about just going out there was to begin with. For the most part things work out, and when they don't, you just adjust and find another way.

That said, however, the first night here in Phnom Penh was rather intimidating. The bus dropped us off in the middle of downtown in a poorly lit parking lot filled with moto drivers vying for our business and beggars. It wouldn't have been so bad if we had had some idea of where we were, or if there were some sunlight, or if we each were not carrying huge backpacks on our backs and chests, but what can you do? After negotiating a price for transport to a nearby (or so I had thought) guesthouse, my travel partner and I each hopped on the back of a motorcycle taxi for a harrowing ride through the night streets. As we rode, I found myself getting paranoid and thinking about how easy it would be for the drivers to take us to some unlit section of town (and we passed through quite a bit of them) and simply do us in.

Thankfully, my paranoia turned out to be just that and we soon arrived at the random guest house I had named as our destination. The drivers ran up and talked to a woman waiting outside who informed them that they were "full." I had read in a guidebook that guesthouses will often do that in order to wait until the drivers leave thus freeing them to offer the room without having to pay commission to the drivers. The drivers returned offering to take us to a destination they recommended. We thanked them but refused and ducked into a neighboring bar. However, the drivers had apparently read the same guidebook and were not going to move. They decided to camp out there to wait us out. Late at night in a new city with noplace to stay and some somewhat cross motorcycle drivers waiting outside. Not so good.

The bar turned out to be somewhat sketchy - filled with young girls (underage?) in miniskirts serving drinks and providing company to an assortment of middle aged mostly western looking men. But the bar staff was friendly and sympathetic and a French gentleman sitting nearby offered to drive us to a nearby guesthouse. It was thus that we made our escape.

CAMBODIA (Siem Reap): Lost City of Preah Khan

Lost City of Preah Khan
Originally uploaded by monkeymagictatsu.

I am at the end of 3 days here in Siem Reap exploring Angkor Wat and its surrounding ruins. Sitting here, I keep typing and erasing sentences because I don't know how to even begin to convey how amazing this place is. Even the hundreds of photos that I took do not even come close to conveying the experience. I must simply hope that you will someday have the chance to visit and see for yourself if you have not already.

Tomorrow morning, we leave for the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh.

THAILAND (Chiang Mai): Back to the Future

After a blissful two weeks traveling through the pastoral lands of Laos, I have returned once more to the land of properly paved roads, 7-11s and other trappings of the more "developed" world. This time, however, I know better than to go to Bangkok (unless I absolutely have to) and have thus chosen to drop my bags here in the bustling northern metropolis of Chiang Mai.

I just arrived here yesterday morning and aside from a bit of scouting around last night and this morning, have seen not a whole lot of the city...but my general feel for the city thus far is that it is to Thailand what Kyoto is to Japan -- free from skyscrapers littering the skyline and surrounded by lush green hills, it is a major city nonetheless, an ancient capital, a sanctuary of traditional culture, a city peppered with ancient temples and institutions of learning. Bookstores are about as common in this area as street hawkers selling noodles. I love it.


As added bonus, internet access is cheap, readily accessible and fast. I've uploaded a bunch of photos from the past couple of weeks to my photostream that can be accessed by clicking on the following link

http://www.flickr.com/photos/67916188@N00/date-taken-calendar/

teaser shot from collection of photos shot in Laos

Apologies as I can't be bothered to put the shots in order and write proper commentary at this time...but maybe in the future. Honest.

Much thanks to those of you who continue to peek at the blog and leave comments. Proper replies are in the works.

Thailand (Bangkok): Off to Laos

Just a brief note to let folks know that I am catching the train out of Bankgok later tonight and heading north to Udon Thani (where my parents used to live before I was born) and then onwards to Nong Kai to make the border crossing over to Laos. Hope all is well with all of you out there reading. Will post again next time I'm able to find a place to connect.

Thailand: Farang Pricing

In Thai, the word farang is something equivalent to the word gaijin in Japanese. Gaijin literally means "person from outside" while farang I believe originally was meant to refer to the French. In any case, both words, despite their literal meaning, are generally used to refer to Westerners...more specifically, caucasian Westerners, preferably with blonde hair and blue eyes.

Here in Krabi, I am finding that if I don't walk around carrying my camera or backpack and keep my mouth shut, I can 'pass' to some degree (people are darker here, there is a lot of mixing with ethnic Malays here and I guess folks in general are used to mixed folks comprising part of their population). People will speak to me in Thai and be puzzled for a few moments when they don't get a response from me...until of course, I open my mouth and say, "Beg pardon?"

Why try to pass? Well, here in tourist-flooded Krabi, the dual pricing system Ed and I ran into back at Lumpinee seems to be in full effect pretty much everywhere one goes...from internet cafes to restaurants to you name it. The assumption here is that if you are farang, you are loaded, and most people seem to see it as only natural that they charge us Westerners more.

Running into this initially caused me a great deal of irritation. This was before traveling to Ko Phi Phi. It seemed like everyone was out to gouge us for as much as they could...and indeed, many were. But on Ko Phi Phi, things were different.

In most of Thailand, I am of the understanding that good-natured bargaining is the norm, but Phi Phi was no place for bargaining. The prices were obviously inflated, but there was a reason for it that was understood by all - no guile was at work: People were struggling with what little they had to pick-up the pieces and get back on their feet. What kind of a person tries to haggle for a discount with someone who is operating a makeshift stall out of a gutted building? I noticed the locals charging lower prices to other locals and in restaurants providing larger portions to their fellow citizens, but realized that was just people looking out for their own. I also noticed that when people recognized me as a volunteer there to help out with the clean-up, they did what they could to extend that generosity to me as well, even though most probably had very little to share. This generosity, even in the wake of such tremendous loss, humbled me and helped to give me a much needed reality check.

Well, now that I'm back on the mainland here in the town of Krabi, dual pricing doesn't seem so nearly as benign...Yet, what helped to give me an additional reality check the other day was when I read the newspaper and saw that recently, there has been a movement to have the minimum wage raised to 255 baht a day from the current 175 baht a day. I had thought that I had been "roughing it" by trying to keep my daily budget somewhere between 300 and 500 baht a day (one US Dollar is worth approximately 40 baht).

So I get charged double...or triple...or sometimes quadruple what Thai are getting charged. But in most cases, that doesn't even amount to more than a few US cents, money that will be fairly insignificant to me once I return stateside. Small-scale and informal wealth redistribution at work, ladies and gentleman.

Still, it can be a bit grating to have someone next to me pay 30 baht for three hours of gaming on the internet while I am charged 120 baht for the same amount of time uploading photos and writing these blog entries - I mean, I could buy two plates of chicken rice with that difference.

But I guess at least I have the option of just keeping my mouth shut when I make my purchases, eh?

Thailand: A Visit to Krabi Elementary School

Recess at Krabi Elementary
Originally uploaded by Tatsu2.

On the taxi ride into the town of Krabi, Luce pointed out the local elementary school to me. I guess all those years of teaching really did something to me because the pull was irresistable.

The next day, I was up at the school, armed with the few documents I brought along proving my background as a teacher, speaking with the staff to see if it would be possible to arrange a tour of the school in exchange for perhaps a guest teaching appearance by me.

Much to my surprise (as security is particularly tight in Japanese schools these days following several horrific incidents of random people walking in from off of the street and killing/injuring students and staff), nobody seemed to need to see any documentation and they seemed perfectly willing to take me at my word that I was indeed a teacher. As luck would have it, I had come on the day before the school's big Sports Festival, so there were no normal classes to visit as all the students were busy practicing and preparing for the next day. One of the teachers, however, was kind enough to give up her time and take me on a grand tour of the school right there and then.

The school that I visited happens to be somewhat unique in that half of it is a standard government run public school and the other a semi-private charter-like English/Thai bilingual pilot school.

The bilingual school is quite fascinating in that the bulk of instruction (and student guidance!) for the students appears to be provided by homeroom teachers hired from Western countries. All classes (except for Thai) are taught in English. Many of the foreign national teachers do not speak much Thai and have little to no knowledge of how things are done in the Thai school system. Therefore, as might be expected, they bring to their classrooms Western assumptions about class management and are allowed to act on these assumptions with virtually no interference from native Thai teachers. The two foreign national teachers who sat down to speak with me that day seemed to see it all as a Thai experiment in importing Western schooling methods wholesale into Thailand and seeing how kids turn out.

The bilingual school has maximum class size of 30 while the standard government school has up to 50 crammed into one class. Yet, according to the two teachers (based upon their experience doing periodic teaching visits over to the government school side), the government school students are much more disciplined and respectful.

Why is this so? The two speculated that part of it could be related to the relative-affluence of the households students were coming from. The bilingual school determines admission based on some type of aptitude entrance examination administered in kindergarten and requires that parents bear part of the financial burden for the tuition. Students therefore tend to come from wealthier families that can afford both to provide the tuition and the support necessary to pass the entrance examination in the first place. My two new teacher friends (Let's call them Mr. A and Ms. S) reason that this accounts somewhat for the higher incidence of "bratty" unruliness within their classes (when placed into comparison with what they've observed in the government classes).

This said though, the parents of the bilingual school students are for the most supportive of the Westerner teachers and willing to go along with pretty much whatever methods they choose to employ in their classrooms.

As students in the bilingual classrooms come in speaking virtually no English, I suspect that probably another reason for the unruliness is just the plain frustration at not being able to understand what is being said to them that I think probably happens anytime you immerse a child in a language not their own.

Yet, despite the difficulties the teachers spoke of, the English the students speak by their 5th year (as deduced from looking at short stories they had written which were posted on one of the walls of their classroom) looked pretty impressive to me. Ms. S however seemed to be somewhat concerned that their relative skill and comprehension levels in subjects such as science, math and social studies were not on par with their peers who had received their instruction in Thai.

THAILAND: The Beach

Just spent a couple of days out on the peninsula/almost island of Hat Railay where I took my first trip out rock climbing (and discovered I have the gripping strength of a little girl). Rock-climbing was great and the beach on the nice side of Railay was beautiful and virtually deserted as it is low season.

I have now made my way out on longtail boat to the famous tropical paradise of Ko Phi Phi (the paradise island used as the filming site of that DiCaprio classic from a few years back, "The Beach.")


Ko Phi Phi, as opposed to Railay, is relatively teeming with people (though it is low season here as well)...the big difference though is that this is one of the places that the tsunami hit...and hit bad. Evidence of the terrible destruction that was wrought here by the waves is evident from the moment you step off the boat - a gutted 7-11 store now occupied by cats and a makeshift street hawker stall. Behind the 7-11 are stray palm trees with no tops and behind them, the opposite side of the island. Apparently, before the wave, the various trees, plants and buildings were so thick nothing of the other side could be seen.


(click on photos for more detailed explanations)


The place we found to stay is surrounded by buildings devastated by the tsunami. To see pictures is one thing, but to see the twisted metal, rooms with walls taken away, the rubble all around, and then turn around to see the sea dancing around behind you is something entirely different.

After dropping off our stuff at the guesthouse, we quickly changed into swimwear to head out into the water for a bit before nightfall. A storm was blowing in and the waters of the bay were frothy and tinged an odd sickly green color. It was perhaps just my overactive imagination, but walking out into the water I could feel something, as if the terror, confusion, anguish and suffering of those who had been here when the tsunami hit had left their residue in the water. For a few moments I felt almost ill.

People are working hard to rebuild and get things back to normal. Walking around through it all, one sees groups of foreigners working with Thai people, hammering, sawing, helping to rebuild. There is apparently an ongoing volunteer movement here to help with the reconstruction. Two young women from Britain we stopped to ask about good places to stay turned out to be survivors of the tsunami. One had been quite seriously injured and was only recently released from the hospital. She came straight back here to help with the rebuilding and invited myself and my two travel buddies to a meeting tonight at Carlito's bar if we are interested in doing some volunteer work.

Anyway, I've already spent enough time on the net now that I owe two meals worth of money in fees. This will be my last entry until I get back to Bangkok (and cheaper internet rates) in a couple of weeks.

Thailand: Bangkok Bum

So I've been here in Bangkok now since Sunday night and have basically done a whole lot of nothing...or at least, that's what it feels like.

An inordinate amount of my time here thus far has been spent in this internet center, catching up on old e-mails, uploading photos and chatting with various folks when they come on MSN Messenger. Somebody come kick my butt, please.

The positive side of this sitting in this internet center (which is located downstairs in the hostel where I am staying) is that I've become friends with Reang, the woman who runs the center (as well as does travel agent stuff)...or rather, she was kind enough to add me to her circle of friends which includes a constantly shifting set of random travelers like me who pass through her office.

Through Reang, I've met an interesting set of folks - a chiropractor from the Kyoto area down here studying Thai massage; a young film-maker who is putting together a documentary on the terrible conflict in southern Thailand; a ski instructor from Colorado and then of course a number of Reang's friends from her university days whom I met last night when I was unfortunately a bit too "happy" off of the spirits they kept pouring for me to really keep track of who was who. I felt kind of bad because Reang and her other Thai friends wouldn't allow us to pay for anything, though we watched them dishing out quite a bit of money for drinks at the club last night.

**Khao San: Trust in Others, But Watch Your Back**

Here near the traveler's ghetto of the infamous Khao San Road, you can barely walk a few feet without a taxi driver or tuk tuk driver or somebody coming up and saying "My friend, my friend, where you going? Where you from?" as they attempt to hook you and sell some service or product to you at inflated "farang" (foreigner) prices. It is easy to get irritated and maybe even angry (especially if you've already gone through being scammed out of some dough), but I figure that these folks are just trying to make a living. As long as you know that somebody is trying to scam or sell you something, it doesn't hurt to reciprocate "friendliness" in kind with a proper greeting and if you're not in a hurry, a bit of conversation. Some of these local "entrepeneurs" I find myself passing on a regular basis and the "My friend. My friend"s have been replaced by pleasant greetings and well wishes for the day.

**Travel Buddies and a Night at Muay Thai Matches**

When you are traveling alone on the backpacking circuit, you are constantly meeting up with new people. Sometimes, if you find you are headed in the same direction and hit it off reasonably well, you become temporary travel partners. For instance, in KK I became travel partners with an older Japanese woman I met in Kota Kinabalu (KK) who ended up traveling with me to climb Mt. Kinabalu, then onwards to the Orang-utan Rehabilitation Center in Sepilok, out to Uncle Tan's jungle camp on the Kinabatangan River and finally back to KK where we parted ways.

On the plane ride from Kota Kinabalu to Bangkok, I ended up making friends with a guy from England, Ed, who was also visiting Thailand for the first time. We both quickly got the sense that the other could be trusted (must have been the mixed Asian heritage thing we both had going) and agreed to go in together with two other folks from the plane ride on a cab from the airport to the Khao San Area and to split the cost on a twin room in a hostel.

On our first full day in Bangkok, Ed proposed we go out and check out the nearby Grand Imperial Palace and Wat Pho (which houses the famous reclining Buddha). Instead, I ended up sending Ed off on his own as spent the day sleeping off exhaustion I had accumulated in Borneo.

Our joint sight-seeing ventures ended up being limited to a trip out to Lumpinee Stadium for a night of Muay Thai kickboxing matches. I've been looking forward to seeing Muay Thai live ever since watching that off-the-hook crazy action movie Ong-Bak. Getting in turned out to be rather expensive --- there was a special foreigner price that was four times the rate for locals (1000bb (cheapest seats) as opposed to 250bb...for perspective, I am paying 150bb a night for my single room right now and an average meal costs about 35 to 50bb; US$1 is roughly 40bb) -- but Ed and I reasoned that we may not get the chance to do this again.

We sat in the cheap seats which turned out to be cool. We were close enough to the ring that we could still hear the smack of flesh hitting flesh quite clearly and see sweat and spittle flying when blows connected. The cheapseats were also where all the hardcore local regulars were, standing and shouting and waving to arrange bets with each other...and man were they into the action. Each solid blow that connected (especially knees) were accompanied by collective "Oooo!"s (as in "Oooo! That's gotta hurt!") from everyone in the stands.

There were all in all 10 matches with the main event being a match with the 135 division champion defending his belt. The speed, grace and above all, resilience of the fighters was incredible. I'm pretty sure that if any of their kicks, punches, knees or elbows were to land on me, I would be on my back foaming at the mouth and in convulsions. Actually, there were a couple of knockouts in the night. Both of them happened so quickly, I didn't actually see what blows led to them, but I did see the results. Hearing that crack and watching a man suddenly crumple to the ground a slickened limp bundle of meat wasn't quite my cup of tea.

**Japanese Eeyore**

To reach Lumpinee, Ed and I hopped on the number 47 bus and grabbed seats towards the back. I ended up sitting next to a man and woman visiting from Japan. I struck up a conversation with the two of them and figured out that they were also temporary travel buddies. There was a brightness in the woman's eyes and the way that she smiled that told me she was living life with joy and an eagerness to know the world. Her partner, on the other hand, was an odd contrast...dark, closed and pessimistic. At first I figured it was because maybe he thought I was out to con them or something. But after conversing with them for awhile, I figured out it was probably just the way he was. He was at the tail-end of backpacking through SE Asia and seemed gloomy about prospects for himself upon returning to Japan.
"Backpacking is all fine and good while you're doing it, but then you have to return to the harshness of reality," he said gravely as I inquired about his travels.
"Surely it won't be that bad. You'll find something," I offered.
"Maybe things work out for you Americans and Europeans, but we Japanese can't just go running off and doing things like this. We ruin all our prospects for the future," he responded. Indeed, I agree that it is probably significantly more difficult for people in Japan to "drop out" of society to wander the world and then slip back in. But this guy's pessimism made me wonder why in the heck he had come out on the road in the first place.

The inspiration for me to go on this backpacking journey actually came in part from a very close friend of mine who backpacked through SE Asia and India for about 9 months. He happens to be Japanese. When he quit his job, he set off to travel with no solid plans as to what "sensible" thing he would do on his return. And when he returned to Japan, there were many who worried (including myself) whether he would be to find anything in Japanese working society above hopping from one temp job to another. But he remained outwardly positive and just recently had a great job which will utilize his travel experiences almost drop into his lap.

I'd like to think that his example shows that if you follow your heart and stay positive, you will eventually run into a number of opportunities. From there, it is only a matter of noticing and seizing them. You can be comfortable and do what is "sensible." But if the "sensible" thing you are doing isn't in alignment with what your heart is telling you to do, then you are cutting yourself off from life presenting you with those opportunities that are both "sensible" and what you want to do.

Malaysia (Borneo): From Cloud Shrouded Mountaintops to Monkey-filled Jungles

South Peak and Me (Mt. Kinabalu Summit Plateau)
Originally uploaded by monkeymagictatsu.

Well, I really have a lot of updating to do here, but internet access has not been what I had hoped it to be. In any case, I've uploaded photos from the past few weeks to my flickr account (access by clicking on the photo) and added comments that should provide a bit of an idea of how I've spent my time here in Borneo. Hope all is well with everyone. I leave in less than an hour for Bangkok so I'll sign off here and write again from somewhere in Thailand.

Malaysia: Borneo

Today, spent the day in the diveshop doing the classroom portion of the scuba diving course. Tomorrow morning, we head out to do our first dives. After another day of diving after that, I'll be certified to dive in open water. The course I'm enrolled in is apparently the cheapest diving certification course in the world - 540 RM ($1 US = 3.8 RM). Apparently, a lot of folks from Japan come out here to get certified because it's cheaper to pay to fly out here and take the course than to simply enroll in a course in Japan. I've also been surprised, among other things, by how enthusiastic so many people seem to be when they found I had been working in Japan for over 6 years (many people are really interested in learning Japanese).

I'm really quite excited about getting out there in the water. To be honest, until I got out here on this trip, I hadn't even seriously considered doing diving -- it seemed too "out there" for some reason. And now, I'm about to get certified and do diving in Sipadan, one of the top diving spots in the world.

Aside from the diving course, I'm really enjoying the whole feel out here in Sabah. There is a very different feel here than what I found in peninsular Malaysia. People seem very laid back, happy and friendly. Also, I was surprised to learn that Christianity is quite strong - perhaps even dominant - here in Sabah (whereas Islam is predominant in most of the rest of Malaysia). Last night at a nearby cafe, I happened to get into a lengthy conversation with a family that owns a recently opened cafe not too far from where I'm staying. We talked about religion, identity and all manner of topics.

Aggh. Falling asleep. Gotta sign off here. I'll write more later.

Malaysia: Why I Hate KL Taxis

I got out of the house a bit late this afternoon and was a bit worried that I wouldn't make it in time to catch my flight. Outside of Hiro's apartment, there were three taxi drivers gathered and chatting with each other. As I approached, one of them looked over at me and asked where I was going.

"KL Postal Center and then KL Sentral," I replied.
The driver looked at me in disgust and waved his hand in front of his face to indicate that he wasn't interested in taking me.
"I have an appointment. Maybe he can take you," he said, referring to the driver standing next to him.
"20RM," said the other driver.
"20RM?!," I said, knowing that on meter the drive was only about 8 or 9RM, "It's only 8."
"Then no, I have an appointment."

Sigh. At least this time around, I wasn't surprised by any of this. Driver's in Malaysia are legally required to charge according to the meter, but most driver's in KL will do their best to try to avoid using the meter in favor of trying to extract as much as possible from people (capitalizing on the ignorance or desperation of the customer). When the bus I rode from Taman Negara to KL disgorged us backpackers onto the street in Chinatown, a taxi pulled up behind us which I ended up hopping into. The driver spoke nice English and was quite friendly...at first.
"Where to?"
"Mont Kiara."
"Okay. 50 RM." (the actual fare, on meter, is about 8RM)
"50RM?!! No way! It's only 6 RM from here."
"Then I'm not going. Get out."
I tried to be stubborn at first, but eventually just gave up and got out.

Another time (a couple of days ago), I tried to catch a cab to drive me over to meet up with a friend a little ways away. A taxi picked me up and I hopped in the backseat and said where I was going. The driver said okay and we started on our way. After a while, I noticed that the meter wasn't going and pointed out that fact to the driver. The driver suddenly became quite upset and started shouting in broken English something to the effect of,"No meter! I take you. After, I say, you pay!Okay!"

No, not okay. Not the right answer. The taxi driver pulled over and said, "Okay. Then you leave here. Sorry." Fine. I got out...onto the expressway. I had to walk down the next exit and make my way to a normal street to try hailing a taxi anew. But before hailing a taxi, I noticed something important. Customers in other passing taxis sitting in the front seat. Ah ha. When I finally managed to hop in a taxi, I hopped into the front seat and this time, there was no monkey business.

Talking with my friend Julie later that evening, I learned that taxi drivers in KL are like that not only to backpackers and people who are obviously tourists. They pull the same thing with pretty much everybody.

Yeah. I am not fond of KL taxi drivers. Anyway, these drivers today all agreed that they did not want to take me to where I was going (not a big enough fare), but they were kind enough to flag down another taxi passing by. I hopped into the front seat and the driver, for some reason I don't quite understand, was willing to take me, no questions asked. He even put on the meter without me having to ask him to do so. Must've been the hopping in the front seat move.

Ahhhh, you are learning young paduwan. You are learning.

Malaysia: Off to Borneo

I've really gotta learn to stop being so ambitious with these posts because I spend all of my time thinking about how I'm going to make the perfect post and then I end up not writing anything at all.

Well, last few days have been nice. Back from the rainforest in KL recuperating and truly appreciating what a luxury air conditioning is... My old friend from college, Julie, and her beau took me out to Putra Jaya (the government's administrative center future city north of KL).

After that, we went to go see Episode III (my second time at the theater). Man, I admit that the little boy in me was thoroughly satisfied by the movie and the underlying story was decent...but gawd...the dialogue had me squirming in my seat and groaning aloud...Am I the only one who was looking forward to Padme dying so I wouldn't have to be subjected to anymore of the terrible "romantic" dialogue between her and Vader? Basically, that movie would have been so much better if Anakin and Padme were not allowed to speak for uh...the entire movie.

Anyway, this afternoon, I catch a flight out to Sabah, a state on the Malaysian portion of Borneo. There, I'll take a basic open water scuba diving course, rest and get readjusted pressure wise for a couple of days, head out to climb Mt. Kinabalu (the tallest mountain in SE Asia), head out to the rainforest again to see Orang Utan and then...uh...haven't planned ahead that far.

If you're intersted in seeing pictures from the past few days, click on any of the photos from the blog entry below and it'll give you access to the photos I've uploaded to my flicker account. The most recent photos are in the Putra Jaya folder.

On a different note, I'm pretty sure that at least a few folks out there are reading this blog from time to time, but I'll say it again: Any and all comments are deeply appreciated. Doesn't have to be long. Even a single word or phrase like "Cool" or "Be careful" or "So what?" is fine. It helps me to know at least who's reading...or that people are reading at all (sniffle sniffle).

Okay. I'm off. Gotta take a shower and argue with taxi drivers to get me over to the train station. Someday, I'll write about how much I hate most taxi drivers here in KL.

Malaysia: Jungle Lite

Having a wonderful time here at the edge of the jungle. Rode into the park entrance area this morning on a slow boat ride that took roughly 3 hours. I was fortunate enough to have a very friendly gentleman seated behind me who was taking his wife and 5 children to the park. As he had been speaking in Cantonese with his family for the first half of the trip, I was pleasantly surprised when he started to converse with me in English. We managed to talk about quite a bit and during the course of it all, he and his two sons taught me a number of useful phrases in Malay.

Once arriving here, I hauled all of my luggage down the beach and up the stairs and down the road to the very furthest place to stay, the Durian Chalet. My two travel companions (a French couple I had made friends with on the bus from KL to Jerantut) and I were a bit regretting out decision to book at this place as the chalets were quite rustic and the location remote...but these feelings of regret evaporated when we dropped off our bags and took lunch at the small dining area (located in the same space as was used for guest reception).

Some traditional Malaysian home-cooking - eggs, a spinach-like vegetable and some-type of fish in durian sauce (I forget what it is called)

The family that owns the operation is extremely friendly and it turns out that we had decided to eat lunch at the same time the family was eating. The family was having a home cooked meal not on the menu...which a cousin, visiting the family from the US on school holiday, invited us to try. The conversation that followed thereafter was quite pleasant and it seemed as if more than simply staying at some cheap hostel, we had been welcomed as guests into someone's home.


In the afternoon, I split off from Nicolas and Cindy to go on a tour of the Ear Cave while they went to shoot the rapids. The members of my tour consisted of three young men from Windsor who had just graduated from college (high school) and were traveling around the world on a "gap year" and a very nice Indian American family from Ohio that has traveled extensively throughout the world (the two children, aged 10 and 7 respectively, have probably seen more of the world than I have). Our guide, unfortunately, left much to be desired. He didn't really talk to us at all...In fact, I don't recall him saying a single thing to us through the entire "tour." He simply drove the boat to the start of the trail, led us on the well marked trail through the forest to the cave and then led the way through the cave. Every question we asked was answered with a simple shrug of the shoulders. I'm guessing he didn't speak that much English.

The cave was cool...filled with bats and as one would guess, guano (bat poo). Between the eight of us, I think we did a pretty good job of cleaning the guano off the rocks of the cave with our hands and clothing. Still, there was a group of students screaming and shouting in Cantonese behind us that went even deeper into the cave and therefore, deeper into the poo. Most of the kids were dressed in nothing more than short-shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops (or simply barefoot!) and all seemed to have a grand old time slipping and sliding through the soupy rivers of bat poo flowing through the passageway below. Watching them, I couldn't help but feel ashamed at my own squeemish hesitation to follow them...but at the same time, I was thinking to myself, 'Uh-uh. No. Hell no.'


Descending into the Ear Cave and posing with its sleepy inhabitants

A centipede, one of the few things we spotted on the night walk.

After finishing up the hike, and returning to the chalet for dinner, I met up with Nicolas and Cindy (the couple from France) again and we hopped on a boat across the river for a guided night tour of the jungle. The tour was nice...didn't see much in the way of fauna aside from a few stick bugs, a gigantic yellow black poisonous centipede and another gigantic woodsman (?) spider, but the guide was fantastic.

As a bit of comic relief for the night, as some of you may know, I've been tripping out about the possibility of leeches getting me on the trail in the jungle. So for most of the walk, I was constantly scanning the ground to make sure no leeches were hopping on my shoes to crawl up and bite me on my leg. But we got the end of the walk and not a single leech was to be found.

Then I felt something on my neck.

Touching my neck lightly, I felt something long and thin and not me.

"Um, I think I've got a leech...could somebody check my ne--" I said, trying to remain calm and suppress the panic tinging my voice. And in that instant, Cindy looked over, screamed and raised her hand to swat it off as I shouted, "No wait, don't--," not wanting leech teeth left stuck in my neck (if you pluck a leech off, rather than burning, salting or waiting for it to drop off on its own, the wound may scar). But it was too late.

Fortunately, it seems that Cindy's quick reflexes caught the leech (if it had been a leech) before it could bite. According to Cindy, it had been crawling up my neck when she got it.

I didn't manage to get a picture of the little bugger on my neck, but earlier in the day on the way to bat cave, I took a mini-movie of this little guy we spotted doing his darndest to chase after us (I had shown this same clip to Cindy earlier in the evening and she said whatever it was that had been on my neck was moving in the same way).

Anyway, it's pouring buckets (I guess they don't call it the rain forest for nothing) outside of the internet center and i'm waiting for it to lift so I can get back to the chalet and get some sleep...

Malaysia: The lazy blogger departs for...adventure?

Hm, I'm not doing so good with this blog thing. For now, I've dumped a bunch of photos from the past week or so (unfortunately, lost a bunch of photos from my first week) onto the site and if I ever find the time, will try to go back and supplement the photos with the journal entries I've made on old fashioned paper...but folks, don't hold your breath. Seriously.

Anyway, as you can see from the pictures, I'm having a lovely time out here, but alas, the time has come to move on. I'm headed off for Jerantut today and aim to be romping through the jungles of Taman Negara making friends with all the cuddly and caring little tiger leeches by tomorrow. Ciao ciao.



TOTALLY RANDOM LINKS OF THE DAY:

...and for those of you looking for a bit of entertainment, check out Dubyah Cent droppin' rhymes like a P.I.M.P. on the T.E.R.R.O.R.I.S.T.S.

Pee-your-pants-rating: 2 (with bonus star for cleverness)

...and another set of clips about freedom and the America way, dedicated to my brother and his love of that cinematic classic, "Team America."

"AMERICAAAA, **** YEAH!" (do not click if you are under 18)

Pee-your-pants-rating: 4 (minus 2 if you have yet to see the movie)

Malaysia: Daytrip to Malacca

One of the many colorful trishas you will find around the Town Square (aka Dutch Square). Hop in and Indian pop music will magically start to blare out of onboard speakers.

View from inside the ruins of St. Paul's Church situated atop Bukit St. Paul in Malacca's old town.

An older gentleman taking a smoke-break on Jonker Street.

A nice little cafe on Jonker Street to stop off for cool refreshing glass of fresh fruit juice.

chillin' out at the Geographer Cafe on Jonker Street

the entranceway to a temple off of Jonker Street in Malacca

Walking down Jonker Street at night, I felt sure that Hayao Miyazaki had walked through here at some time or another. The streets from "Spirited Away" must have been inspired by the here - Straits Chinese culture meets colonial English architecture.

Malaysia: Chicken Rice

During my time here in Malaysia, I've grown quite fond of this dish, chicken rice. The best chicken rice that I've had thus far was at a Chinese restaurant near Hiro's place here in Mont Kiara. This whole meal was a bit on the expensive side -- 15RM/person (roughly $4 US); 3 times what I would normally pay for a plate of chicken rice from street vendors -- but boy was it worth it.

close up shot of the of the chicken

That I can have the nerve to even begin to complain about paying $4 US for a meal tells you just how incredibly cheap food seems to folks from Japan or the West. Despite my inclination to introduce myself as a poor wandering bum, by local standards, I'm pretty loaded.

The wild thing is that CDs, DVDs, designer clothing, alcohol and other imported items cost the same as they would in the US. In the US, a CD would cost me about as much as a good meal or maybe two value meals at Micky D's; here, a legit CD is the same as 2 or 3 good meals or 6 very average ones. Don't get me wrong; piracy is not a good thing. But straight up, I certainly don't blame people for buying bootleg items at one of the seemingly countless pirate shops dotting the landscape here. In my book, ain't no CD worth 6 plates of chicken rice.

So after dinner, Hiro and I drove downtown to check out the nightlife and hang out at his favorite chill-out-spot, a little cafe called Ole. The place was nice, with sofas to sprawl out on, a guitar that Hiro had permission to play freely, a free internet computer terminal and nice laid back atmosphere. We sat around chatting, reading, making friends with various other patrons and generally just slothing out.


It was two in the morning by the time we left the cafe...and I was starving. Thank goodness for the street hawkers out there selling grub all through the night. And of course, with all the various foods out there for sale, what do I buy? 5RM of chicken rice heaven. Awwwwwww yeah.

Malaysia: Petronas Towers - Been There, Done That, Check.

Standing in a park in downtown KL with the Petronas Towers rising in the background

View of the Petronas Towers from outside of the KLCC

Malaysia: Shah Alam and the Blue Mosque

With minarets stretching up 142.3m high (the tallest in the world) the Sultan Salahuddin Abdul Aziz Shah Mosque (or as it is more commonly referred to, "The Blue Mosque") is Malaysia's largest mosque and fourth largest mosque in the world.

Up until now, everytime Hiro has brought a guest to see the mosque, for some reason or another, he and the guest(s) were never allowed to enter. Today, we got lucky and were allowed to head upstairs to the main prayer hall...on the condition that we did not enter the hall itself or take pictures. Thus, unfortunately, all of my pictures are from outside of the mosque.

I say unfortunately because as breathtaking as the mosque was from the outside, peering into vastness of the dome enclosed prayer hall, bathed in cool blue light from the stained glass windows, was something altogether different, dark, immense, mysterious, sacred.