My sailing itinerary…
Tuesday April 6, 2010 we leave Phuket, Thailand at dawn and begin ourtwo month journey to Padang,Indonesia
First we will cross the Malacca Straight to Banda Aceh, but not for a stop. Instead we will anchor in a small town at the tip of Western Sumatra called Sadu on Thursday April 8. Then we will be sailing 50 miles south to another small town for one night’s rest before heading to the first island chain, where Kevin will be surfing, called Banyacks. The next islands are Nias (mecca for surfers), Tellos, Mentuaki and finally to the Mentawias for remainder of May.
I will not have internet or phone access during the next two months, unless I can find some in one of the surfing camps- not likely though.
So I will update my blog as soon as possible!
I intend keep a detailed account of my experience and I look forward to sharing with everyone the challenges, discoveries, beauty and pain I experience. I see this as a time for self-relection and I hope I surface in Indonesia a stronger and more self-assured version of me.
I appreciate your audiance and support.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Bus Abandonment
How does a person get left behind by a bus taking a pit stop?
Very easily when no one is watching out for her or noticing her empty seat.
After spending over 26 hours on buses (12 hours on 5 different buses from Siem Riep, Cambodia to Bangkok, Thailand where I had 10 minutes to catch the last night bus from Bangkok to Phuket) I emerged from the bathroom to discover an empty parking space.
My stomach dropped. My bag was on the bus and I was already late arriving to Phuket- it was nearly 10 a.m. Saturday and Kevin would be expecting me.
I had no idea if the bus had a name or company, I only knew it’s destination.
Fortunately I always keep my most valuable possessions on me, so I wasn’t relieved to feel my passport and some money in my purse.
But I what was I supposed to do?
I was stranded, not sure where I was, sweating under the blazing sun with dirt and dust everywhere, staring uncomprehendingly at the empty space where my bus should have been.
“Did you see the big blue bus heading to Phuket?” I asked a group of Thai men standing nearby, one of whom had given me directions to the bathroom when I first stepped off the bus, so I hoped he would recognize me.
“Oh bus gone.” He said.
“Well, can I catch it somehow or contact the driver? My bag is onboard and I should be,” I replied pathetically.
One of the guys lead me to the bus information stand, explained my situationa (I was very lucky he knew a bit of English), and soon I was on the back of a motorbike chasing down my run-away bus.
We caught the bus 2km up the road, and I gave the bus driver and innocent grin as I slid into my seat.
Only 200 km to go.
(The bus adventure took a total of 30 hrs, about 9 different vehicles with varying degrees of leg room and air-conditioning …what a ride.)
Very easily when no one is watching out for her or noticing her empty seat.
After spending over 26 hours on buses (12 hours on 5 different buses from Siem Riep, Cambodia to Bangkok, Thailand where I had 10 minutes to catch the last night bus from Bangkok to Phuket) I emerged from the bathroom to discover an empty parking space.
My stomach dropped. My bag was on the bus and I was already late arriving to Phuket- it was nearly 10 a.m. Saturday and Kevin would be expecting me.
I had no idea if the bus had a name or company, I only knew it’s destination.
Fortunately I always keep my most valuable possessions on me, so I wasn’t relieved to feel my passport and some money in my purse.
But I what was I supposed to do?
I was stranded, not sure where I was, sweating under the blazing sun with dirt and dust everywhere, staring uncomprehendingly at the empty space where my bus should have been.
“Did you see the big blue bus heading to Phuket?” I asked a group of Thai men standing nearby, one of whom had given me directions to the bathroom when I first stepped off the bus, so I hoped he would recognize me.
“Oh bus gone.” He said.
“Well, can I catch it somehow or contact the driver? My bag is onboard and I should be,” I replied pathetically.
One of the guys lead me to the bus information stand, explained my situationa (I was very lucky he knew a bit of English), and soon I was on the back of a motorbike chasing down my run-away bus.
We caught the bus 2km up the road, and I gave the bus driver and innocent grin as I slid into my seat.
Only 200 km to go.
(The bus adventure took a total of 30 hrs, about 9 different vehicles with varying degrees of leg room and air-conditioning …what a ride.)
Goodbye to Cambodia and a few friends
I’m alone again, I left my three friends and Cambodia behind, and this bus I’ve been riding for ten hours should have landed in Bangkok nearly three hours ago.
I said goodbye to my three friends before boarding this bus, and I’ve had plenty of time to reminiss about our short, but busy, time together- hot bus rides and hours of sweating while the bus was delayed, lot’s of ladyboys, birthdays and beers on the beach, diving certifications, temple visits, and Cambodian BBQs.
In Cambodia I saw Angkor Wat at sunrise, experienced complete frustration and hopelessness with the poverty, got drunk on Cambodian whisky and convinced a tuk-tuk driver to let me drive his manual motorbike (I’ve never even driven an automatic before).
Siem Riep, where I spent all my allotted “Cambodian time”, was dry and dusty and I took two showers a day to get the dirt, sweat, and brown rivers the two created together behind my knees and along my hair-line off my skin.
My spirit was depleted by the relentless vendors and kids selling worthless goods who swarmed me and pleaded with me to make an overpriced purchase. It was sad because I could never give enough. No matter what I bought (and I bought far too many coconuts and scarves) it wasn’t enough. They were happy to bleed me dry.
I enjoyed traveling with Rami, Mael and Soel Ki and will regret their absence, but I’m ready to make a move into the sailing adventure awaiting me back in Thailand. And returning to Thailand even thought this bus ride is never-ending feels like a vacation back into the familiar.
I would have liked more time in Cambodia to better understand the country and it’s people, to continue conversations with monks, old ladies and tuk-tuk drivers; to work for a bit in an orphanage and meditate in a temple. But I danced with locals, ate Cambodian cuisine and made the most of my short time there – I’m even walking away with a souvenir: dozens of flea bites all over my legs.
Now it’s creeping on 7:00p.m., the sun has set, and the road into Bangkok is congested with Friday night traffic, meaning the trip won’t be over anytime soon.
I’m hoping to catch a night bus in Bangkok heading to Phuket because Kevin is expecting me Saturday, tomorrow, in the morning to help with the final provisioning so we can check out of Thailand Monday and set sail at dawn on Tuesday. I have no idea if, where or when a bus will be leaving and I’m not thrilled to preform my search alone after dark.
I’m consoled by the thought that if I don’t make it to Phuket by morning then Kevin will understand. He’s been around SE Asia long enough to know how unreliable buses can be.
I have to laugh though, because the man who sold me this bus ticket guaranteed I would arrive in Bangkok by 4p.m. and said I would have no problem finding a night bus to Phuket. I hope he is at least 50 percent accurate.
I said goodbye to my three friends before boarding this bus, and I’ve had plenty of time to reminiss about our short, but busy, time together- hot bus rides and hours of sweating while the bus was delayed, lot’s of ladyboys, birthdays and beers on the beach, diving certifications, temple visits, and Cambodian BBQs.
In Cambodia I saw Angkor Wat at sunrise, experienced complete frustration and hopelessness with the poverty, got drunk on Cambodian whisky and convinced a tuk-tuk driver to let me drive his manual motorbike (I’ve never even driven an automatic before).
Siem Riep, where I spent all my allotted “Cambodian time”, was dry and dusty and I took two showers a day to get the dirt, sweat, and brown rivers the two created together behind my knees and along my hair-line off my skin.
My spirit was depleted by the relentless vendors and kids selling worthless goods who swarmed me and pleaded with me to make an overpriced purchase. It was sad because I could never give enough. No matter what I bought (and I bought far too many coconuts and scarves) it wasn’t enough. They were happy to bleed me dry.
I enjoyed traveling with Rami, Mael and Soel Ki and will regret their absence, but I’m ready to make a move into the sailing adventure awaiting me back in Thailand. And returning to Thailand even thought this bus ride is never-ending feels like a vacation back into the familiar.
I would have liked more time in Cambodia to better understand the country and it’s people, to continue conversations with monks, old ladies and tuk-tuk drivers; to work for a bit in an orphanage and meditate in a temple. But I danced with locals, ate Cambodian cuisine and made the most of my short time there – I’m even walking away with a souvenir: dozens of flea bites all over my legs.
Now it’s creeping on 7:00p.m., the sun has set, and the road into Bangkok is congested with Friday night traffic, meaning the trip won’t be over anytime soon.
I’m hoping to catch a night bus in Bangkok heading to Phuket because Kevin is expecting me Saturday, tomorrow, in the morning to help with the final provisioning so we can check out of Thailand Monday and set sail at dawn on Tuesday. I have no idea if, where or when a bus will be leaving and I’m not thrilled to preform my search alone after dark.
I’m consoled by the thought that if I don’t make it to Phuket by morning then Kevin will understand. He’s been around SE Asia long enough to know how unreliable buses can be.
I have to laugh though, because the man who sold me this bus ticket guaranteed I would arrive in Bangkok by 4p.m. and said I would have no problem finding a night bus to Phuket. I hope he is at least 50 percent accurate.
WWJD?
Today I met a Cambodian monk named Sel. He is 24, enjoys studying English, and aspires to be a tuk-tuk driver. He dreams of driving foreigners around will cost him a lifestyle change and about $1500, a sum he will spend years earning in a rice field and probably never achieve. (According to him, but sadly I’ve learned even monks can’t be trusted because I’m a dollar sign to him and not a friend.)
Sel is the second youngest of nine children, not an unusually high number, left home at 15 to join a temple and had little formal education before studying Buddhism among fellow monks.
We talked for nearly two hours in the halls of Angkor Wat, the biggest temple in Siem Riep and considered the 8th wonder in the world, and at the end of our conversation I wrote him a long letter, which he read aloud to me, to practice his English. I hoped this gift would deter him from asking me for money, but it didn’t.
As I excused myself to rejoin my friends, who were waiting for me at the entrance, he asked for money to help him with his education.
I gave him some money (they only want American money here) and desperately maneuvered my way back through the Angkor Wat corridors until I could find an exit.
Was the conversation cheapened my his request for money?
I still gained considerable insight to life as a monk and as a Cambodian, and the reality of the situation is that his existence is dependent on handouts.
During the 15 minutes it took me to find Remi, Mael and Soel Ki I was thinking about the acronym WWJD, which stood for “What Would Jesus Do,” that we used to wear on bracelets when I was a kid.
I can’t give all my money to each person who asks me, but I gave two hours of my time and an English lesson. I hope Jesus is proud.
Sel is the second youngest of nine children, not an unusually high number, left home at 15 to join a temple and had little formal education before studying Buddhism among fellow monks.
We talked for nearly two hours in the halls of Angkor Wat, the biggest temple in Siem Riep and considered the 8th wonder in the world, and at the end of our conversation I wrote him a long letter, which he read aloud to me, to practice his English. I hoped this gift would deter him from asking me for money, but it didn’t.
As I excused myself to rejoin my friends, who were waiting for me at the entrance, he asked for money to help him with his education.
I gave him some money (they only want American money here) and desperately maneuvered my way back through the Angkor Wat corridors until I could find an exit.
Was the conversation cheapened my his request for money?
I still gained considerable insight to life as a monk and as a Cambodian, and the reality of the situation is that his existence is dependent on handouts.
During the 15 minutes it took me to find Remi, Mael and Soel Ki I was thinking about the acronym WWJD, which stood for “What Would Jesus Do,” that we used to wear on bracelets when I was a kid.
I can’t give all my money to each person who asks me, but I gave two hours of my time and an English lesson. I hope Jesus is proud.
Getting to Cambodia
Almost twelve hours on a bus (the trip should have taken 7-8hrs and cost half of what we paid) that sold us into the hands of a corrupt system that makes the trip especially difficult and uncomfortable so when you land at your destination you collapse into a taxi and allow them to take you to a hotel of their choice. Everyone along the way is working with one-another, receiving commissions and mining as much money from you as possible. It was a soul draining experience to be ripped off so badly and blatantly. At every turn were people manipulating and taking advantage.
At every stop we were swarmed by children selling worthless good or demanding money, who would follow me around, grabbing me and staring at me with practiced frowns.
It was one of the worst days in all my months of traveling. When we arrived in our overpriced hotel I was furious and frustrated. I showered but the day’s dirt and my anger wouldn’t wash away.
If I’d been alone I would have fought the system and had a go at getting places alone- no package deals, no “helpful” taxi drivers and no travel agents, but I was with the group and we made a consensual decision. We didn’t know better options until we had paid and committed to the scams.
Through this ordeal I’ve been reminded that this is SE Asia and everyone is in it for themselves. A travel agent will lie about an arrival time to get you to buy a bus ticket and a tuk-tuk (motorbike pulling a cart) driver will promise you sights that don’t exists just so you pay to take a tour.
My patience is tested daily, and learning the trick of the trade is an intolerably high learning curve.
I have to accept that I will always spend more than I think I should and remember that no one is responsible for me, except me, whether I’m among friends or strangers.
At every stop we were swarmed by children selling worthless good or demanding money, who would follow me around, grabbing me and staring at me with practiced frowns.
It was one of the worst days in all my months of traveling. When we arrived in our overpriced hotel I was furious and frustrated. I showered but the day’s dirt and my anger wouldn’t wash away.
If I’d been alone I would have fought the system and had a go at getting places alone- no package deals, no “helpful” taxi drivers and no travel agents, but I was with the group and we made a consensual decision. We didn’t know better options until we had paid and committed to the scams.
Through this ordeal I’ve been reminded that this is SE Asia and everyone is in it for themselves. A travel agent will lie about an arrival time to get you to buy a bus ticket and a tuk-tuk (motorbike pulling a cart) driver will promise you sights that don’t exists just so you pay to take a tour.
My patience is tested daily, and learning the trick of the trade is an intolerably high learning curve.
I have to accept that I will always spend more than I think I should and remember that no one is responsible for me, except me, whether I’m among friends or strangers.
Diving in New Waters
From the jungles of Koh Sok, our international foursome headed for Ko Tao, an Island off the southeast coast of Thailand renowned for its cheap diving certification courses (plus it is north of Ko Phag-nag island where the infamous full-moon parties are held).
Remi and I didn’t have our diving certification (Mael and Soel Ki are experienced diverd) and the course included free accommodation, we decided to enroll.
So I enrolled in a three-day open-water diving certification program that qualified me to dive anywhere in the world, with a buddy, down to 15 meters.
I completed the course on March 25, by birthday, and the next night, Friday, I, and my twelve peers, went out for our final ocean dives, dinner and drinks on the beach.
I look forward to future oceanic exploration.
Earlier the same day, between diving and dinner, I was walking around town when I met Ho, a Korean man, who discussed his long-distance relationship and his years of traveling with me. He bought me a mango shake, took me for a spin around part of the island on his motorbike, and read my palm- In four years I will have a lucrative job according to my left hand. I sure hope he’s accurate because I’ve spent more than I intended on this trip.
From Ko Tao, we traveled to Bangkok for one night before taking a bus to Siem Riep, Cambodia.
Traveling with a group again has been surprisingly pleasant. We all get along great, I save money sharing rooms and I don’t have to worry about landed in areas after dark.
I am enjoying this experience because I know I will be alone again in four days, when I must return to Phuket and prepare to set sail. No longer will I be surrounded by peers and community. Once I return to Thailand I will be leaving on a boat with one individual, and hours of solitude while he is out surfing, for two months.
I’m cherishing company while I have it and looking forward to hanging out with myself again in the near future.
Remi and I didn’t have our diving certification (Mael and Soel Ki are experienced diverd) and the course included free accommodation, we decided to enroll.
So I enrolled in a three-day open-water diving certification program that qualified me to dive anywhere in the world, with a buddy, down to 15 meters.
I completed the course on March 25, by birthday, and the next night, Friday, I, and my twelve peers, went out for our final ocean dives, dinner and drinks on the beach.
I look forward to future oceanic exploration.
Earlier the same day, between diving and dinner, I was walking around town when I met Ho, a Korean man, who discussed his long-distance relationship and his years of traveling with me. He bought me a mango shake, took me for a spin around part of the island on his motorbike, and read my palm- In four years I will have a lucrative job according to my left hand. I sure hope he’s accurate because I’ve spent more than I intended on this trip.
From Ko Tao, we traveled to Bangkok for one night before taking a bus to Siem Riep, Cambodia.
Traveling with a group again has been surprisingly pleasant. We all get along great, I save money sharing rooms and I don’t have to worry about landed in areas after dark.
I am enjoying this experience because I know I will be alone again in four days, when I must return to Phuket and prepare to set sail. No longer will I be surrounded by peers and community. Once I return to Thailand I will be leaving on a boat with one individual, and hours of solitude while he is out surfing, for two months.
I’m cherishing company while I have it and looking forward to hanging out with myself again in the near future.
Group affairs: Jungles, Islands and the inbetween
After meeting Rami, Mael and Soel Ki in Phuket, the three of us traveled to Patong for a one night safari.
Patong is the party area of Phuket, which makes it the mecca of drunken tourists and lady boys (Thai men who have become women), and rampant sex tourism.
The four of us shared one room with one giant king – sized bed, because accommodation is pricey, found an affordable restaurant among the bars and showgirls (it’s hard to tell if they are men or women), and had one drink at the feet of five dancing lady boys who were more than happy to flash there implants for a tip.
One night was enough to get our fill of this “Thai Vegas” and the next day we headed north to the tranquility of Koh Sok, a jungle that is older than the Amazon.
Four two days, we slept in a bungalow with mosquito nets and hiked in the jungle.
One morning I woke early and went for a walk alone. No one else was on the track and after about an hour of solitude I heard a rustle up a hill to my right. I stopped in my track and saw a large, dark object move. My hands began to shake and my stomach tightened. Frozen for a moment, I felt the adrenaline pumping through my limbs and my brain preparing me for an escape- back the way I came, up a tree or down the hill to my left. What was the animal?
Before I took any action my curiosity urged me on. Rationally I knew there was very little chance of it being any kind of large cat with teeth, because it was making too much noise and these jungles have been combed through for feline game. But my heart wasn’t convinced and as I stealthily climbed toward the creature I was trembling.
Before I was more than 30 yards him, I realized it was a small- I’m assuming baby- wild elephant. A cute creature, but still dangerous. Where there is a baby there is likely a larger mamma nearby. Fortunately for my safety he moved deeper into the jungle as I crept closer and soon I could hardly see my backpack on the track.
Disappointed that I couldn’t get a better view, I returned to the path and gathered my things.
Suddenly the jungle seemed scarier than it had an hour earlier and I was aware of my vulnerability. I began walking back the way I’d come in and I could feel the monkeys and birds taunting me. Screeching sounds from swinging vines and disturbed branches made my heart race. I wanted to run, but I knew my fear was illogical.
I was grateful to run into a Russian couple twenty minutes later and I recounted my elephant story to them with pride and not an ounce of fear.
Patong is the party area of Phuket, which makes it the mecca of drunken tourists and lady boys (Thai men who have become women), and rampant sex tourism.
The four of us shared one room with one giant king – sized bed, because accommodation is pricey, found an affordable restaurant among the bars and showgirls (it’s hard to tell if they are men or women), and had one drink at the feet of five dancing lady boys who were more than happy to flash there implants for a tip.
One night was enough to get our fill of this “Thai Vegas” and the next day we headed north to the tranquility of Koh Sok, a jungle that is older than the Amazon.
Four two days, we slept in a bungalow with mosquito nets and hiked in the jungle.
One morning I woke early and went for a walk alone. No one else was on the track and after about an hour of solitude I heard a rustle up a hill to my right. I stopped in my track and saw a large, dark object move. My hands began to shake and my stomach tightened. Frozen for a moment, I felt the adrenaline pumping through my limbs and my brain preparing me for an escape- back the way I came, up a tree or down the hill to my left. What was the animal?
Before I took any action my curiosity urged me on. Rationally I knew there was very little chance of it being any kind of large cat with teeth, because it was making too much noise and these jungles have been combed through for feline game. But my heart wasn’t convinced and as I stealthily climbed toward the creature I was trembling.
Before I was more than 30 yards him, I realized it was a small- I’m assuming baby- wild elephant. A cute creature, but still dangerous. Where there is a baby there is likely a larger mamma nearby. Fortunately for my safety he moved deeper into the jungle as I crept closer and soon I could hardly see my backpack on the track.
Disappointed that I couldn’t get a better view, I returned to the path and gathered my things.
Suddenly the jungle seemed scarier than it had an hour earlier and I was aware of my vulnerability. I began walking back the way I’d come in and I could feel the monkeys and birds taunting me. Screeching sounds from swinging vines and disturbed branches made my heart race. I wanted to run, but I knew my fear was illogical.
I was grateful to run into a Russian couple twenty minutes later and I recounted my elephant story to them with pride and not an ounce of fear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
