sirrocko711's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries

sirrocko711's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member sirrocko711 on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/sirrocko711 en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 06 Sep 2009 19:33:02 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com Day 1, Pt.1: The Thirty Hour Flight — Los Angeles, California, United States http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1211319960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1211319960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1211319960/tpod.html Sun, 06 Sep 2009 19:33:02 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Los Angeles, California, United States

It's 10:30ish Tuesday morning. After leaving nearly all my errands for the last minute, I've finally finished moving out and packing for my three months abroad. Jeff shows up, him, Dan & I load the luggage and monkey into Princess (Jeff's car), and it's off to the airport for the big send-off. After one of the more panicked, emotional goodbye handshakes I've ever given (though both Jeff & I blanked on our mutual inspirational send-off speeches, and I'm not sure if Dan even had one to begin with), I stumble into the terminal with twice as much luggage as I should really be carrying. Thanks to Dan, I have a giant suitcase with which to carry all me friend's orphanage donations. Thanks Dan! You'll get it back, fear not. The giant stuffed monkey I'm carrying proceeds to scare the shite out of one of the airport security officers, who mistakes it for something live, snicker. The check-in line is ridiculously long, and I end up at the gate with only an hour to twiddle my thumbs instead of two.  The boarding call is given. I make maybe five quick goodbye calls, then hand my passport and ticket over to The hottest flight attendant I have ever laid eyes on... we're talking supermodel looks here. My hand was honestly trembling as I handed over the documents too her 'cause I was that intimidated by her beauty. Apparently flight attendant status is the Asian equivalent of winning a beauty contest. Anyways, the plane takes off, and the start of an epic 33 hour flight across the world begins. Any nervousness/excitement I might have at this point is numbed by the fact that Juno is the first in flight movie, blech.  The flight itself is, despite being ridiculously long, quite pleasant. The flight attendants were pretty bossy ("Please raise your seat so I can serve him food, please lower your window shade, please raise your window shade...") but their sheer jaw dropping beauty makes me perfectly willing to do whatever they After a brief transfer in Tokyo and a not-so-brief 7h middle of the night layover in Singapore, I'm finally on my way to Kathmandu itself.  There's surprisingly little nervousness, until that brief moment of zero-G when the plane starts landing. The descent launches my heart into my throat like a cannon as the fact that "oh my G-d I'm in the Himalayas ...alone!" becomes frightfully real. I am not a well traveled man, having only left America for the first time a mere two years prior  and to cozy clean Europe mind you.  I'm notorious amongst my friends for being a clumsy street-stupid bumblemeister and one even (not seriously) suspected me of being suicidal upon booking this flight. Nepal made it into the International Misery headlines only a month ago for its beating of Tibetan activists and ranks as one of the world's poorest and least developed countries, the entire African continent not withstanding. If the volunteer manager Sughanda wasn't there to greet me at the airport I would be alone and without help in a world I had no experience dealing with. Would he be there? The airplane doors swing open, the passengers flock out, I make my peace with the Lord Thine Shatner and set foot outside...
]]> *Day 61: Homesick :-( — Bukit Lawang, Sumatra, Indonesia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1216615380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1216615380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1216615380/tpod.html Sat, 05 Sep 2009 23:44:51 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Bukit Lawang, Sumatra, Indonesia

In the Himalayas, trekking alone with a private guide had its drawbacks, mainly loneliness. This morning the drawbacks of having company on such an adventure surfaced, with five people including me to wake-up, we didn't get going until 11am. The coolest part of the day had come and gone, now we would be fighting a baking noon sun. Oh well, no experience is perfect. A pack of monkeys visited us for breakfast in hopes of stealing some food, but the assistant fought them off. These are some clever fuzzy little things, one of them managed to sneak away a bag of fruit before throwing it into the bush as soon as the assistant threw a stick at it. Props to the monkeys. My local made, jungle-grade Bukit Lawang flip-flops were also proving their worth, despite leaving my feet vulnerable to mosquitoes they were perfectly adequate footwear for the terrain and had excellent traction. There was none of the slipping and sliding that occurred on the Nepal trek, despite this trail being twice as rough. Besides, I don't think my sneakers could take another even more brutal battering of this sort. Lunch consisted of the local fruit fare, including some mini-bananas, passion fruit, rambutan (google them), and pineapple. I've never been much of a pineapple fan, thinking them too soggy and strange, but the pineapple here is crisp with a zesty, juicy tang, and I'm liking it a great deal. During lunch, Abdul's goofy sense of humor took a turn for the silly when he stumbled upon a gibberish combination of English slang that he (and only he) thought was hilarious. You see, Abdul loves barking famous English quotes and repeating them ad-nauseum because he feels like a badass when they come out of his mouth. The previous night, he repeated "deal... or no deal?" to us endlessly for no reason while laughing till he was red in the face. Today, his gibberish combo of slang was "wicked naked":"Hey hey, Charlie... Wicked. Naked. AHAHAHHAH! Wicked naked, wicked naked wicked naked..." He made me promise to teach it to my fellow Californians upon returning home. I promised, but can make no guarantees of keeping this promise.About midway through the walk, we stumbled on a pack of black gibbons, one of whom approached a Dutch and I and took a swipe at my camera. Abdul motioned for me to grab a long stick, and thus began the saga of "Charles Vs Gibbon: Battle for Camera." I was victorious, but my camera's battery holder will never stay shut without the help of strong tape ever again. As long as I can officially say in complete honesty that I got into a fight with a monkey and won, I'm happy. Following this incident, our wildlife luck took a turn for the worse and we saw no more animals for the rest of the trek. Only one hour was left anyway. The walk took us down a steep cliff (had to play Tarzan with some vines to descend it) to the main river, where after some brief much needed swimming we boarded inflatable tubes and journeyed the rest of the way to Bukit Lawang in style. Whitewater rafting wasn't on my agenda for the trip, its always kind of scared me, but it was a nice unexpected activity to be able to check off the list of life experiences. When we arrived back in the village, I bided farewell to the Dutch couple who were leaving at that very moment in an awaiting taxi, as well as to Jacques, who was immediately disembarking on yet another trek in a different direction. Bon voyage, my French wuv... you will be remembered with honor. Meanwhile, Abdul, Yolanda, and I made plans for a late night coffee house rendezvous to sign his guestbook.I rested for a bit, then hunted down a warung (cafe) to supply my late lunch/early dinner. The riverfront warung I settled on was run by Ita, a 29-year-old mother of one whose English husband died from a tragically young heart attack four months prior. Also, another of her 20ish-aged tourist friends, this one French, recently drowned while tubing. Despite interaction with her clearly rendering me a cursed, condemned man, I wound up killing the rest of the evening and night chatting with her about this and that random thing. We bonded a bit over our mutual loneliness, and even ran through the rain together to get to the coffeehouse in time for my rendezvous with Abdul. Turns out the coffeehouse in question was run by her guitarist brother, who later played and sang a respectable rendition of "Hotel California" to me. The sound of this song, a song frequented on my Dad's car tape player during road trips of old, really hit home just how homesick I really was, which I'm going to rant about for a bit now. Let me put it this way: While Bali was paradise, its beaches and scenery had nothing on the likes of Torrey Pines Beach back home. Even in the Italian Riviera on our Eurotrip, I told Mika "You know, for a world famous beach destination, I'm not impressed." Mika: "It's 'cause you're from San Diego." That stretch of coast on the 101 from La Jolla to Oceanside has got to be one of the world's singular most beautiful places, and San Diego's specialness has never been clearer. I miss the Coronado Bridge. I miss the trolley. I miss burritos. I miss friends. I miss family. I miss being able to trust new friends right off the bat. I miss being able to drink the tap water. I miss beggars who actually have dignity and style. I want to go home, and the homesickness is really starting to hinder my enjoyment of even the most basic things. Jeff's arrival will be more of a rescue than a joyous reunion at this point in my mood, hopefully solving the problem, and the most spectacular sights of the trip (Angkor Wat in Cambodia, and the islands in the south of Thailand) have yet to be hit.The Internet bill is running high, gotta go for now. One more entry raving about Bukit Lawang is yet to come, along with three days of mildly disappointing Malaysia travel. Once Jeff joins, I'm not sure I'll be able to waste away whole hours in front of a computer any more, but I'll do my best to keep you all updated.---#1 Reason You Know You've Been Traveling Too Long---1. When the only thing holding your camera together is bandage tape from your first aid kit.---Most Annoying Phrase of the Year---"Wicked naked!" - Abdul---Vital Signs---Orangutan = NINEFood Poisonings = ZERO---Reminders---To Jeff, if he's even still alive = Flight info! NOW! 
]]> Days 49-50: Singapore to Yogya — Jakarta, Java, Indonesia http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1215739920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1215739920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1215739920/tpod.html Sat, 05 Sep 2009 23:34:48 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Jakarta, Java, Indonesia

In the interests of time, I'm gonna kind of gloss through Wednesday, my only full day in Singapore, cause it wasn't quite up to interestingness-par. After waking up and dropping off my laundry, I set out and traversed basically every main ethnic district on foot in hopes of people watching or finding something interesting. The "hustle & bustle" (Lonely Planet) of Chinatown was nowhere to be found, though I did find some neat Buddhist pagodas and an alleyway of air conditioners. Whole sides of buildings literally covered in AC, funniness. Maybe it was just the time of day, but the only people on the streets were tourists and the buildings were improbably perfect. Strike 1 against the Singapore section of the LP book. Moving right along... the Colonial District, "where you can find remnants of British rule" ...all three unremarkable buildings of it. There was an apparently excellent museum here, but I was in more of an outdoorsy walking mood and opted out. Half a strike against LP, we'll give them props for the museum I prolly mistakenly missed. Next up, Orchard Road, the biggest of the highlighted areas on the map. Unfortunately it was just one modern shopping mall after the other.I popped into one, and the reverse counter shock reasserted itself. It was consumerism overload, and I had a much harder time navigating around it than I usually do in malls. The "More Shops that way!" directions posted on every bathroom etc arrow didn't help, I could hear that three note Psycho violin playing every time a "More Shops! :-D" sign appeared. Enough with the malls, what else was there to do here that didn't require a $40 zoo admission ticket... Little India! "Disorganized and pungent, could be another country unto itself." (LP) To get here, I had to transfer MRT lines... there was a full scale mall built into the junction-station, with the entrance to each line built at either end. One was forced to traverse a section of the mall to transfer lines. It was disgusting. The MRT station for Little India emptied out into a budget outlet mall. "You've got to be kidding me...." After a 5min walk, I found myself in the beating heart of Little India itself. Having just come from what might as well have been India just a day prior, this fake India naturally failed to amuse. "Disorganized & pungent" it was not, and describing anything in Singapore with that adjective would be akin to calling Switzerland's creepily efficient train system "a baffling maze where it's about the journey, not the destination! :-D" Strike 2.5 . By now it was 6pm, and one of the worst headaches in recent memory was taking effect. It felt like a particularly bad hangover (not that I'd know what one feels like, of course...), though I had not consumed any alcohol and had in fact been drinking an excessive amount of juice. Couldn't be dehydration. On the MRT ride back to the hostel, I began to feel faint and a bit queasy as well. Fearing the worst, I opened up the guidebook that I was gong through a rough patch with and searched the health section. "HEAT" bingo. It wasn't recommended to engage in strenuous physical activity (like walking across a city on foot) during your first few days in SE Asia, to give your body time to adapt to the unreal humidity. Since I failed to heed this advice, I'd come down with a case of clinical heat exhaustion. The headache took another day to go away, but following LP's recommended treatment (stay in the AC, put cold cloth on head, elevate feet) made me well enough to do battle again. 2.5 strikes removed. I was forced to spend the rest of the night confined the hostel bed recovering however. It was all good, Anna (Congolese-Australian girl) was there getting an early night's sleep as well, and we kept each other good conversation company.In my haste to write this entry, I forgot to talk about Singapore's best single attraction, the food. I'll just go over my food intake, intake by intake. Firstly, at the hostel MRT station was "Mr Bean", a Jamba Juice/Starbucks type chain of exclusively Soya Milk based drinks. The most expensive drink cost 1.50 Singapore dollars. The exchange rate is 1.4 $SGD = 1 $USD. It was awesome. I got a simple almond-soya drink, but there was other cool stuff on the menu. Don't remember what. Goshdarnit I've been in this Internet cafe for an hour and a half now, thanks for stalling me, Ryan! Friggin Facebook Chat. It's the devil's work I tell you. Anyways... For lunch I stopped in a Chinatown Hawker Center (hawker centers are the working class food courts, if you remember from the last entry), and passed one Chinese food eatery after the other looking for something appetizing. This was REAL Chinese food, FYI... "Pig Testicle Fry + Soup/Dry Noodle" and the like, not "Orange Chicken" (though to my utter shock, I did in fact see that at some places.) I settled for a 3$SGD,giant bowl of "Laksa." Dunno what was in it, but it tasted and looked much like Thai coconut soup which has an unmistakably distinct look and taste. For my beverage, I selected a long lost toddler-hood favorite that had been MIA in my life since Odwalla stopped making it... WATERMELON JUICE. It was heavenly. So yeah lunch was lovely... umm yeah its 11pm now, if I keep writing more I might get mugged on the walk back, umm... Oh, dinner on Tuesday night, a hostel-area hawker stall. Ordered some "Kaew Teow" or something like that, out came what I nicknamed "Devil Noodles." Chow mein, but bright red and spicy as hell, with random fried egg on top. Dinner Wed night was noodle + unknown Mandarin word, turned out to be stir fried squid. Oh well, first time for everything... Not surprisingly, it tasted like chicken. Beverage wise, I had starfruit juice, sugarcane juice, water chestnut + sugar juice, some random ginseng tea concoction, and other fun. All of this failed to cure the dehydration half of the heat exhaustion, because I'd just sweat that much. The headache was terribly epic. An oral re-hydration salt/electrolyte packet from my finally coming in handy travel 1st aid kit was necessary, and successfully cured said dehydration. I'll be more careful from now on. This entire blog entry hasn't been one giant paragraph, has it? If yes, oops... I'm really in quite the rush here.Thursday... sick of sterile Singapore, which had turned out to be this trip's West Berlin (the sterile start of '06's Eurotrip, possibly the 7 best weeks of my life), I began a search for greener pastures. Everyone seemed to want me to go to Vietnam, but Indonesia sounded more adventurous and was $15 a day vs $25 a day, so... Indonesia it was. I put the extra suitcase into triple-padlocked storage in the hostel safe-room, made triple sure they knew I wouldn't pick it up for another 6 weeks, and hired a taxi to the ferry station. Public transit would require a 15min walk not counting the heavy rucksack, and still feelin wobbly from the dehydration I felt it was worth the splurge. At Harbourfront Station I boarded Batam Fast Ferry "Sea Raider II," which would take me on an hour journey to the nearby Indonesian industrial island of Pulau Batam. From here, I'd take a budget AirAsia flight to Jakarta (Indonesia's capital.) Flying within Indonesia was much cheaper than flying to Jakarta directly from Singapore, FYI. On the Batamfast,Ferry was a TV screen playing the randomest selection of entertainment I've seen from a transit company. An episode of "Ducktails" was the main feature. That's how random it was. The flight was at 1:30, it was 11:50 when the ferry left and 12:50 when it arrived. Things seemed grim.Once docked at Pulau Batam, I rushed & hired another taxi (only method of transit here) to the airport. I looked at the taxi's clock... it was a full hour behind! Of course! Indonesia is in a different time zone! I was saved! Oh wait, no I wasn't. For a such-a-bonehead-stupid-mistake-I'm-not-gonna-mention-it* reason, I had to go back to the ferry terminal, do something, and then go back to the airport. By the time the chaos was over, it was 1:20. 10min before takeoff. All was lost. Or not... Indonesian flights, even AirAsia ones, regularly run an hour or more late! I actually was saved, and successfully arrived in Jakarta with enough time to catch an overnight train to my real destination, Yogyakarta. Though I had two hours to kill once the train ticket was bought, I did not exit the garish and strange central station to explore the city. Jakarta is a very large - larger than NYC - very POOR city, with little in the way of tourist attractions. The train station was enough for me. While passing time, I met a Spanish mother and her 18yr son. The "another white person! yay!" bond is a strong one, and we chatted quite a bit. Every so often I'd be started by the blow of a train horn, which on Indonesian trains sounds less like a honk and more like a Mordor battle-horn from LOTR. It added to the strangeness. g2g but the overnight train was fine, nicer than some American trains, and I arrived without incident in Yogyakarta at the wonderful hour of 3 o'clock in the morning. The nearest vacant LP recommended guesthouse was 20min on foot away. To be continued ASAP,though nothing that bad happened.*I was in such a rush to hire the taxi that I forgot to pickup my rucksack from the ferry baggage claim. I did not realize this mistake until we pulled into the airport. A 5,000 rupiah (50 cents) bribe was required to rescue the rucksack from the ferry baggage claim Nazis.PS: I'm now entering Indonesia day 3, and it's quickly rising to the title of "favorite country I've traveled to." More thoughts on this next time, but google any picture of Borobudur, Bromo, Bali, or Sumatra, and you'll get a taste of why.---Vital Signs---Hygiene = AcceptableStomach = Won the battle with the squidFood Poisonings = 0Orangutan Sightings = 0Balinese Tribes Joined = 0Paradise = Found
]]> Day 91: Journey's End at In-N-Out — Los Angeles, California, United States http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219202760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219202760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219202760/tpod.html Sat, 05 Sep 2009 23:06:13 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Los Angeles, California, United States

Back on May 22nd when good ole Singapore Flight #### first began its descent into the Kathmandu Valley, I wrote that the zero-g moment and landing gears popping out shot my heart into my throat and nearly gave me a panic attack. "OMG what have I done, I'm gonna die, etc etc!" ran through my head over and over. Now the landing gears were popping out again and I could feel the cabin start to descend... but this time there was no epic Himalayan vista or gemstone tropical island rushing up toward the plane. There were houses, lots and lots, all identical, stretching into the horizon as if the entire planet was covered in subdivisions. There were churches instead of minarets. There was a strangely beautiful cluster of giant skyscrapers floating on an island of brown smog. And inside me, instead of heart pounding and head throbbing nervousness, there was only a calm, unexplainable warmth as if I was back in Mama's womb. After three grueling months of ruins, chickenbuses, and curry... of jungle treks, of great new friends, of tuktuk drivers and poverty and decadence, and of some amazing Nepali youngsters who would crack the brightest smiles over the slightest things... I was finally back where I at times would've given anything to be. As I bit down on the juicy grease of that first hardly kosher In-N-Out burger, listened to Ashley rant about how bad the traffic was and fought back tears of joy, I could do nothing but smile. The world is a huge and amazing place, but at the end of the day, while it's cliched to say... There truly is no place like home.And on that note:The. END.<img src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=940a50c6b9d7e666e61ca7a49d651bcc&url=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F_nef53r-qsMM%2FSUMLZuA2usI%2FAAAAAAAAI2k%2FipiyEbzTE5g%2Fs400%2FDSCF9732.JPG" alt="" class="ext_img yui-img">To whomever is still reading this, thank ya'll for reading.---Quote of the Trip---"Charlie-brother, you buy Cadbury? Me? Me Cadbury? Cadbury me? You buy? Camera? I play? Me?" - Sushaan---Quote Runner-Up---"ATTENTION: DONT SH!T HERE. ONLY FOR PISSING." - Painted across the wall of a leaky Indonesian bathroom.---Top 5 Favorite Places---1. Pepsikola & Duwakot, Nepal2. Bukit Lawang, Sumatra (Indonesia)3. Saigon/HCMC, Vietnam4. Ko Phi Phi, Thailand5. Bali, IndonesiaHonorable mention: Siem Reap, Cambodia---Places That Can Go Frak Themselves---1. Thamel District, Kathmandu2. Sunrise Beach, Ko Pha-Ngan---WTF?---1. Silom District, Bangkok---Where I'm Gonna Pack-up and Move to Someday---Indonesia. (and of course Nepal)Special, Very Belated Shoutouts to:- Mai VSN peeps! For being such awesome co-peeps! It was an honor serving with all of you.- To Jeff for letting me throw coconut candies at him & for being a noble travel buddy.- To Dan for the suitcase. (told you I'd bring it back!)Random fond memories in no order:- Fight w/evil gibbon- Crusing up Mt Bromo on the back of a motorbike, looking up at the stars- Any "Dave Moment" at OCRC- Moped drives in Bali- Abdul crooning "Hotel California" in Bukit Lawang- Martinis in Thamel- Norman's beard- Lindsey: "No, I can't accept this kitten!"- Watchin the scooters swarm by in Saigon- Seeing a wild orangutan for the first time- The first hour in Singapore after Nepal, developed world culture shock- Sushaan hijacking and possibly crippling my camera- Laxmi Didi, and anything she did- Everest beers in The Hutand others.Very Special, Even Though They Won't Read It, Shoutout to:My Nepali family. For letting me become part of the family, letting me into their home, providing and sacrificing for me, and for existing. You are all amazing people, and an inspiration. Keep up the good work.
]]> *Day 28: Sumit's Story — Kathmandu, Nepal http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1213834860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1213834860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1213834860/tpod.html Sat, 05 Sep 2009 23:04:21 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Kathmandu, Nepal

A group huddle in the computer room started Wednesday off.  One of our local college aged friends, a 17yr Nepali girl named Saanju who works as a translator for the medical volunteers, has been trying to get an American student visa and earn her bachelor degree in one of our many east coast liberal arts colleges.  Lindsey's Mom has agreed to sponsor her, and gaining a sponsor is the visa process's most important step (I think), but we still need to figure out which forms are needed and raise money for her airfare and visa fee.  Lindsey & Emily are heading up the money effort, Steve and I (mostly Steve to be honest) are in charge of figuring out the paperwork.  If successful, she'll be goin to in Cleveland by August. Emily and I have joked about how fat she's probably going to get immediately upon being introduced to America's abundant greasy food supply and the concept of supermarkets, and how much we'll eat ourselves as soon as we both get back.  Oh In-N-Out... how I miss thee. Did I mention that a double-double w/milkshake was one of my final meals in the US before coming here?  Mmm.  Roscoe's, Chik-Filet, Roberto's, and aforementioned In-N-Out should all fear the storming I'll wreck upon them come Aug 20th.  It'll bring a glorious, honorable death to my shrunken stomach.  It's weird how quickly one becomes desensitized to the rustic conditions of life here, and how such an "abnormal" life becomes normal.  As I was reading the SE Asia book last night, I thought "Whoh, Vietnam has highways and trains?  They're not poor at all!  Oh, wait..."  Ditto for the economy.  I haven't seen a single corporate franchised chain restaurant or outlet since leaving the Singapore airport.  No McDonalds, no Subway, not even a Wal-Mart anywhere in sight, not to say I'm missing them.  Sure, there are a couple local Nepali chains around central Kathmandu, but most places are private little hole in the walls.  It's weirdly liberating.Anyways, after the morning routine, I accompanied Emily & Lindsey on a brief errand into New Baneshwor.  We ate lunch there at a neat café that employed deaf people, and of course I didn't realize our waiter was deaf until midway through ordering.  The food (mo-mos, Tibetan dumpling things) was a bit oily for my tastes but twas decently filling.  On the way out of this café, Lindsey halted and heard a faint meowing coming from the roof.  The tiniest, most ragged kitten I've seen in a while was trotting around in the patio canopy. Lindsey, fearing the fluffy thing was stuck, called a waiter over to rescue it.  He got the kitten to leap into his arms, carried it down, and handed it to Lindsey.  A funny misunderstanding ensued as Lindsey insisted she merely feared the cat was stuck while the (deaf) restaurant workers kept shoving it back at her thinking she wanted to keep it.  Eventually they got the message, but not without much awkwardness.  Emily and I watched and lol-ed. Following this funniness, I separated from the two of them and hopped on a bus bound for OCRC, or so I thought.  It was actually a direct bus to Bhaktapur (OCRC is off the backroads just outside Bhaktapur) and let me off elsewhere than where I needed to be. Bhaktapur's historic old town was only a short walk away from where I was, so I shrugged my shoulders, made the best of it, and did a brief round of sightseeing.  While crisscrossing it's Durbar Square, a friendly Nepali college student named Servis approached and began chatting. After I was sure he wasn't another annoying merchant taut, I joined him for a cup of yummy delicious milk tea.  He told me tales of a funny old priest in his village who got electrocuted and woke up from the resulting coma with a senile new life goal: attach fans to his shoulders and become the first human-helicopter hybrid.  The old man is still trying, apparently, amongst other similarly zany dreams. Servic gave me his mobile number and invited me to tour his village when I get the chance with a possible sunset-watching trip to nearby Nagarkot as well.  We bidded farewell after an hour and a halfish, and I hopped on the correct bus heading toward OCRC.  I like Bhaktapur, every trip there seems to result in a new friendship (last time it was the Frenchies.) I spent most of the time at OCRC letting it's sole worker, also college aged, talk to me about the orphanage's problems, and his dream of traveling to the US for his master's degree.  At the risk of getting jingoistic, every single Nepali I've met labels America as their dream. It's never the UK, Europe, or Japan... always "Amerllieeeeka!" That's saying something I think.  For all our troubles of late, there's at least one corner of the world that still looks up to us, and for good reason. We rule.  Mr Worker went on to lament how the few Nepalis fortunate to make money abroad lose hope of ever salvaging their homeland from ruin and set up a permanent life in the West.  He means to reverse this trend.  He said that even if he's only one man and can't offer much help beyond sending what little money he makes abroad to his family, he'll at least be able to die (many years down the road) knowing he did something.  Channeling Gandhi for a bit, he said that if he set an example, eventually more and more would follow and a trend could begin.  The determination in this guy's eyes was inspiring. He didn't look at me once when talking, instead aiming his sharply furrowed brow into space lost in his ambitious dreams. Confirming my suspicions from a couple days ago, the worker informed me that they've been struggling to feed the kids for a while now.  The cook-lady is poorly educated and doesn't know how to set up a balanced diet and their insufficient rice cooker just cant churn out enough food fast enough during meal times.  With a couple exceptions, the children aren't skin and bones, but many are bloated and most definitely in poor health.  One child however is most definitely skin and bones.  This kid, a maybe 7 year old boy named Sumit, never talks to anyone, sneaks up to holds my hand then drags me into a secluded corner to cry.  I asked Mr Worker what was wrong with him, and heard the kid's story.  He was separated from his sister somehow before arriving at the orphanage and has been depressed ever since.  He doesn't fit in with the other children and has zero self esteem.Is there anything he needs? I asked..."He just needs love."I was waiting for Nepal to sneak into my heart and jumble things around...  At that moment, it did.
]]> *Day 90: Bittersweet Farewells — Singapore, Singapore http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219197840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219197840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219197840/tpod.html Mon, 08 Jun 2009 16:50:36 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Singapore, Singapore

At 4am, a wake up call came knocking on the door of our Khao San guesthouse room. It had been two hours since I first climbed into bed, so this call was obviously not welcome, but I had an Air Asia flight to catch and little margin of error in which to do so. I stumbled around in the dark packing the final nick-knacks into my rucksack, put said rucksack on my back and the school bag on my belly. Jeff, light sleeper though he may be, somehow slept through all this. I tapped him on the shoulder to wish him faretheewell (his flight was leaving later that day from Bangkok, whereas mine was from Singapore) and a safe flight, and his head cocked up for a moment to grunt. I took this grunt as sleep-speak for "Thanks Charles, you too! It's been fun." And fun it was. Thus was ended the Jeff-segment of this adventure.Shoulders loaded well over capacity, I scrambled out to catch the first airport express bus, actually a van at the early hour and crammed to the teeth with fellow backpackers and their backpacks. There was some funny audible frustration at this one girl who didn't know if she was on the right van:(Israeli accent) "What the f%ck is she doing? F%ck."(Brit accent) "I have a plan to catch!"(2nd Israeli) "(unhappy Hebrew mumbles to fellow Israeli)"(3rd Israeli) "(more Hebrew grumbles)"As soon as she was aboard, the driver TOOK OFF at what must have been three times the "speed limit" or rather the speed everyone else on the highway seemed to be sticking to. I don't think I've been more terrified by a car ride since stepping into one with David Nepsky at the helm early Freshman year. The terror was worth it though, I had only an hour until my flight left and probably wouldn't have made it had the driver been less insane. This means of course that I made the flight and landed in Singapore safely, with a comfortable five hours to accomplish my mission of rescuing Dan's suitcase from storage in the hostel I'd stayed at here 6 weeks ago after first leaving Nepal. This city almost feels like a second home, having now done a third tour of duty providing relaxation, transitioning and rebooting to a battered Charlie.I didn't bother with any sightseeing... after three months on the road, what difference would one more pagoda make anyhow. Instead I settled down at a Muslim food court near the hostel and "splurged" SGD$5 on a huge feast of deliciousness including Singapore's specialty fish-head curry, gross in appearance but heavenly in yer mouth. Yousif, the obese mustached cook of either Malay or Arab origin noticed my luggage and gave me a free dessert on the side: "You have a long journey ahead, please, it is my pleasure!" I'm gonna miss hospitality like that, it's hard to come by back home where all the fast food is owned by this and that evil corporation. No disrespect to the UV Subway's trusty sandwich artists but them all got nothing on the charms of Fat Mustached Arabian, Mr. "Would You Like To Twy Sum Pwrwawn?" from Vietnam or half the other charismatic if untrustworthy vendors of these Eastern lands.With my tray now stacked full with the biggest feast in weeks, including one final boba drink, I took a seat and chowed down on the glory. The meal took almost an hour and a half of solo, steady measured nibbling to conquer and came close to detonating my stomach, but my was it worth it. I was in no rush. This was my last supper, the final meal of the trip (airplane food doesn't count)... it deserved to be savored. Only after it was deep into my stomach could coherent thinking start again. After sinking into my chair in a digestive coma for a few minutes, I thanked Yousif and began the same five block walk to the hostel I trotted six weeks prior.It was a nice feeling to be back here, bringing the journey full circle and all. I remembered the thoughts that went through my head the first time around, fresh off the plane from two months in Nepal; the giddiness of being back in the "developed world," the mystery of what might lie ahead... and now it was all over. There would be no more haggling, no more chickenbus rides, no more worry if I'll find a room in the next city or even navigate my way out of the train station. The pressure was gone completely. The only thing left to do now was crack open a can of Tiger Lager with hostel owner Mr Lum and wash the bittersweet taste of the moment down. An important chapter of my life was about to end. Important in what way, I'm still not sure.5pm rolled around, I cashed in my remaining MRT cards, got me passport stamped... the airplane engines kicked in, and I made my peace with Southeast Asia.---Vital Signs---Feet = In Heaven! Finally got my sneakers back.DBA's Suitcase = RescuedWallet = Written off till Spring '09ETA to Home = 20ish HoursFlight Transfer in = TaipeiFOOD POISONING = NONE... Thank you Portland Street House!! Thank you thank you.
]]> *Days 47-48: "All good things..." (Leaving Nepal) — Kathmandu, Nepal http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1215499800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1215499800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1215499800/tpod.html Thu, 26 Mar 2009 23:26:51 -0400 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Kathmandu, Nepal

Monday was the day of errands. I had to make a trip to Baneshwor to develop some photos, make a bank run, pack, somehow get to OCRC and say goodbye to meh babiez, join the volunteers at 5:30 for Lindsey's birthday cake, and be back home in time for dal bhat. Oh, and plan the next 3 weeks of SE Asia in the process.There was a cute symmetry to it all; my last two days in LA featured a similar impossible even worse errand crunch. I accomplished all except for SE Asia planning and, very unfortunately, the OCRC run. The road to Duakot was still closed, I had a full blown cold by this point, and it was pouring rain and had been the whole day. A two hour walk did not compute, and there was thus no real way to make the journey. I certainly wasn't going through the back country again. Not being able to say goodbye to Dave and the kids will go down as my biggest regret from Nepal, and has kept me from feeling a sense of closure about my time there. All the more reason to come back some day, I suppose... I asked HT to give them the photos, send my regards, and get their #, if they had, one so that I could say faretheewell over the phone. Hopefully I'll be able to do that.Lindsey's bday cake shindig was fun times and followed by a goodbye-Charlie (been going by Charlie since coming here, it's way easier for the locals to catch onto), hangout at The Hut. I took my last sip of that wonderful Everest Lager, gave many hugs and stumbled back home. The most emotional of the goodbyes was with Drubah "Droobs," the good ole bartender who had been our guide, our protector, and our friend since day one. I didn't feel much of a goodbye with HT. Since he's an LA resident, I'm sure we haven't seen the last of each other. As Bogart said in Casablanca, and as I lol-ingly told him, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Packing waited till the last minute of course, I was up till midnight cramming the dirty laundry in wherever it would fit. Sonu, Sarasoti, and Sani all made adorable little crayola-forged going away cards for me, a favor I returned by bestowing what must have been Nepal's largest Cadbury Bar on them. Meanwhile, Sushaan bounced off the walls per usual. Oh Sushaan.I slept like a baby and woke up early enough to finish packing (heh.) One by one the siblings left for school, and one by one I hugged them goodbye. It was a slow, sentimental trickle. I popped into The Hut briefly to share some coffee with Droobs and to unload my now unnecessary hand sanitizer supply onto him, shared another wistful farewell, and headed back to the house where Suganda was waiting to drive me to the airport.And thus, in almost the same manner it began, the ~2 months of my life spent in some random Kathmandu suburb named after a soda company came to an end. I'm flying over the South China Sea right now, bound for Singapore, and still trying to figure out just what the hell to take away from it all. There's a good quote by the Dalai Lama that goes something like: "If you contribute to other peoples' happiness, you will find the true meaning of life." I'd like to say I made those kids happier, but will have to take a raincheck on the meaning of life part. If I learned anything from Nepali and my Nepali family though, it's that life is not really about getting some cushy corporate job and making it big (something I'd previously been worried about.) It's simply a task of surviving, and doing what you can to better the world around you while you're at it. How you define "world" is up to you.or something like that.In about a half hour, I'll land in Singapore and start the next chapter of this wittle trip. Only half of the saga is complete, another 6 weeks of largely unplanned travel loom ahead. I'll be on the road pretty much constantly and will write as frequently as I can, hopefully everyday but realistically once per destination (of which there will be many, though I don't yet know where.) The landing gears are opening... see you on the other side.PS: Saw Mount Everest from the airplane window.PPS:  As you are reading this from the Internet, I have obviously landedsafely in Singapore since the time of writing and am doing jolly.---Vital Signs---Hygiene = DireMosquito Repellent = 0%Hydro-cortisone = 10%Tears = A fewand my immune system is officially awesome, because...Food Poisonings = ZEROSicknesses = 1 light cold...and that's it. Hooyah!
]]> Day 1, Pt.3: My Host Family — Pepsikola, Nepal http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1211493960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1211493960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1211493960/tpod.html Wed, 21 Jan 2009 18:20:18 -0500 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Pepsikola, Nepal

Continuing on... The littlest brother, who calls me "brotterrr!!", worked on his English homework for a bit though his ADD hampered things, while the family's grandpa popped in and out to shout what I think were random Nepali jokes at us. I just giggled awkwardly since I had no idea what he was saying. A bit later I met Stan, a fellow college student volunteering who is living with the same family. We went off to rent a bootleg copy of "The Kite Runner" and watch it on the orphanage's TV, but it only took about five minutes before I completely passed out. Forty minutes later the neighborhood's electricity was cut off (no electricity at night) and we all abandoned ship. 8pm is family dinner time, so Stan & I returned to our house to eat with all seven family members. Apparently missing a family meal is a big taboo here. Every meal consists of "dal bhat," a platter of rice, lentil soup, and veggie curry any regular of the 23rd St Café should be intimately familiar with. Nobody uses utensils here, Stan had to coach me in the art of eating with my hands. I made a doofus of myself trying to do so and earned "Would you like a spoon (you silly spoiled American)?" offers from the mother and daughters. Refusing defeat, I turned them down. Having grown up with only my Mom or Dad but never both in the same room + no siblings, the whole "big nightly family dinner" thing was quite the cool new experience. After dal bhat whatsitcalled, we went up to the roof and listened to Stan play Neil Young in his guitar + harmonica (he plays the harmonica!) while staring at the stars with only candles as our lights. The sound of the harmonica gave me the first of what I assume will be many bouts of homesickness. This is definitely going to be one of the hardest (psychologically speaking, at least) things I've ever done, no doubt... but wow. The people here are amongst the friendliest and most open I've ever met, the scenery (black-smoke belching psuedo-bus-van-things aside) is gorgeous, ... wow, just ...wow
]]> Day 89: Skyline Martinis & The Meaning of Life — Bangkok, Thailand http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219111380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219111380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1219111380/tpod.html Tue, 20 Jan 2009 14:33:08 -0500 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Bangkok, Thailand

There are few things more relaxing than a soft birth on an overnight train rocking you gently to sleep... Well actually there are many things more relaxing than that, but it is never the less a cozy way to spend the night. The beds could also do this neat transforming thing where they could be folded up and turned into seats once the sun rose. I woke up and shoved my privacy curtain aside, and the submarine was now a normal train, with chairs and rows and everything. We rolled into Bangkok a half hour earlier than expected, I scrambled off with my bags and looked up and down the strangely small platform for Jeff. Not only was there no Jeff, but hardly any one was deboarding here. I'd stepped out a station (or two or three) too early! Shit.I huffed and puffed and jumped back on just as the train was starting to pull away. Disaster averted, there would have been little or no way to get back in touch with Jeff (email aside) if we were separated like that. It reminded me of a similar scare early during the Eurotrip with Mika when the Berlin SBahn's doors shut behind me and cut off Mika & Xany, I spent the next ten minutes in a frantic panic riding the subway up and down its line getting off at this and tat stop looking for them. This was an idiotic mistake on my part considering I'd already been inside Bangkok's giant central station three weeks prior and should've known I was in the wrong spot, sigh. All is well that ends well, as they say. When we finally did arrive and reunite, Jeff told me a group of monks stopped him from sleeping by waking up at 5am and yammering to themselves for the rest of the morning. I slept well and taunted him accordingly.Honestly there's not a whole lot to write about the rest of the day. We didn't even settle down into our Khao San Road hotel until 2ish, then split up for some souvenir shopping and eating. Jeff took the SkyTrain to the hostel we stayed at three weeks ago, to rescue the suitcase he left in storage there, while I kind of wandered around town aimlessly soaking in the atmosphere. We would rendezvous at the Banyan Tree Hotel rooftop bar (one of the highest points in the city) at 6, I got there an hour early and talked to this British construction worker for an hour and a half until Jeff arrived while simultaneously emptying the bar's free cashew snack bin. This place was classy by the way, even nicer than the Sheraton Saigon. One of the best things about backpacking through SE Asia as opposed to Europe is that where in the latter you're living off bread and water, constantly counting pennies, here I could get a martini in a 5-star skyline restaurant for six bucks. It would be my final, last developing world indulgence until the next trip, whenever and where ever that will be. And so we sat, Jeff and I, watching the skyscrapers twinkle and the traffic buzz about, pondered the meaning of life some more and thanked each other on an adventure well done. It's been fun and all, but goddamn I want an In-N-Out burger & a salad already.One mistake we made three weeks prior was not checking out any of Bangkok's legendary nightlife, so we resolved to fix this problem and stay up really really late walking around Thanon Silom and it's surrounding adult Disneylands. There was a redux of the Ko Samui night here where I let Jeff walk in front and draw the sleazy go-go girls' fire. Cowboy Alley was the nuttiest of these areas, lit up and down with crazy neon lights not unlike that one street in Downtown Vegas the name of which I forgot. There was also the 3 story outdoor mall of brothels. No comment regarding that. Though a night out clubbing was the obvious thing to do now, Jeff didn't have it in him and my foot was in deep, searing blister pain from the cheap flip-flops I'd been walking around in all trip. We decided to head back to Khao San Rd and spend the rest of the night brewing it up with fellow backpackers and hip young locals. It was a fitting, low key end to things. We stayed out on the cozy crazy street until 3-4ish in the morning, only a handful of bars were still open and countless were lounging on the curbs chugging beers. A few food vendors were still awake to feed them, Jeff got some yummy beef and chicken satay, I got my last pad-Thai. There was also a pair of 7/11s positioned directly across the street from one another, making us lol.Two hours of sleep followed, until the next and truly final day.---Vital Signs---Time Till Home: 36hFood Poisonings: NoneFeet = PAIN10baht Banana Cakes Eaten = Many
]]> Day 88, Pt.1: The Aftermath — Ko Phangan, Thailand http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1218950100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1218950100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/sirrocko711/1/1218950100/tpod.html Tue, 20 Jan 2009 14:28:15 -0500 Charlie Vs Curry-Battle for Earth: Volunteering in Nepal & Backpacking in SE Asia

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Ko Phangan, Thailand

I woke up drenched, shirtless in the sand, having deployed said shirt as a makeshift pillow and splattered with Unknown Liquid at some point while I slept. Not slept actually, half-hearted nap is more like it. I looked around, Jeff was nowhere to be found but he knew where I laid down so I figured it best to stay put. By this point, the hordes of partiers had divided into two distinct groups: those who were not on some sort of mind altering substance, thus were either passed out on the sand or sitting down watching the fire jugglers, and those who did in fact pop pills of E/fake-E/adherol/God knows what else. This goofy faction was still very much awake and about, dancing like crazy in the water usually by their lonesome. In only ten hours this once pristine beach of baby powder had become a wasteland of slobbering drunkards, empty beer buckets, rainbow colored straws and fed up locals. One vendor woman touted her soda bottles to tourist passersby with a deep, desperate tone as if to say "Please, just buy my drinks, just do this one thing for me, you've destroyed my home, please... :-\" At least once a month the island willingly puts itself through this debauchery. We felt bad for the Thais, but it's what earns them their living.Within five or so minutes Jeff appeared, rather violently shoving someone away who'd apparently been chasing him around trying to give him an unwanted bear hug for the past while. Jeff had been off watching the fire dancers and insisted, rather begrudgingly, that we remain on the beach until sunrise. We'd come this far, we had to make it all the way. The second the sun rose however we would hop on a ferry and hightail it the frak out of here. So we sat down and waited, sleepless and battered as ever. This was supposed to have been the trip's grand mindless crazy fun finale. As we exchanged mutual fed up glances however, and looked around at the mayhem surrounding us that we were not in the state of mind to join, it was clear that the Full Moon Party turned out to be something different. It was a test of our warrior's metal, a reminder of what we were missing back home. An experience, not a vacation. Not quite what was expected but a fitting hurrah nonetheless.The sun rose and we began the trek back to the docks. Along the way we passed a belligerent 20-something man tossing plastic chairs around left and right. In the midst of his third toss, he lost balance and fell hilarious backwards into the sand. There he sat for a while with an expression on his face of pure and utter defeat. Did his girlfriend break up with him earlier? Did he lose a battle for a girl he was hitting on? Was his world-view as shaken apart by this apocalypse of impending liver problems as ours' was? One wonders... He became the symbol of the past night for us, the individual who bridged the gap between the sober and the drunk, who like us couldn't help but think "wtf" about the past twelve hours. Then he proceeded to get up and start crawling over foot-high concrete walls. And that was our last memory of Sunrise Beach on Ko Pha-Ngan. We boarded the dangerously crammed 7am ferry too tired to sleep and sailed back to our quiet Lamai Beach bungalow on Ko Samui.---Vital Signs---Travel Weariness = 90%Mood = In the RedTime Till Home = 2 DaysPad Thai = Sick OfAcknowledgments = Despite mood, songs will be sung of this day
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