Travel tips and stuff

Today, so far, is pretty good. I woke up at 8am, got on my battered bike and drove around beautiful Da Nang looking for clothing stores. By 10am, $25 later, I was sitting under an orange tarp on a street corner, gulping down a $1 Pho, wearing a new dress shirt and black dress pants.

The reason for this attire, you ask? At 11:30 I was walking in the office of iCan, an INTESOL training school set up here by Canadians. Starting January 5th I will be learning how to teach English as a second language.

Just like my brother, now that I think about it.

The blog being at an all-time low in readers, it's hard to stay focused and dedicated, but today's a(nother) "chill-out" day, so being back to basics, it has returned to being my personal journal of sorts.

First of all, a little inventory update.

I lost, and bought, and forgot at hostels, about 5 towels now. 2 weeks ago however I found an awesome travel towel.
I have NOT used my solar charger. It's been demoted to my bag of rubbish, with the playing cards and beer opener for Ken.
Yesterday I forgot my sweet swimsuit in Hue. I suspect it was stolen, I had left it to dry in the dorm, I would have seen it when leaving.

I went through 4 of them in the last trip so I'm not at all surprised.

Apart from that, gadget wise all that was added was a fake Beatspill speaker, cheap razor that can't hold a charge and a usb key that won't work. All bought in China.

Also got a few extra shirts from Ben in Leeds, and shower flip flops I wear everywhere.

Now, for some travel tips...

Before you leave, think about your entertainment. Times have a-changed, every hostel had Wi-Fi and that means everyone's staring at their luminous screen.
In a tiny place in China, a lady teases: "You came all the way to Asia to play games on your tablet?" (I'm addicted to Jetpack Joyride). I simply extended my arm and moved it in a 180 degree arc, pointing at everyone. They were all on their tablets or phones, including her.

My best move so far was to bring a board game. I chose Carcassonne. It's easy to learn but hard to master and when you leave the small point counting board at home it fits in a small Tupperware. I've played about 20 games already.

Do not underestimate the awesomeness of a camera. You see so many things in so many days, the pictures help remember. Also, if you have a good one, you get better pictures, therefore people will more easily listen to your adventures you so desperately want to talk to them about when you're back home.

Don't be so fucking cheap, dammit. I saw a man spend 300,000 Dongs on a meal and then give shit to a lady for trying to sell him a chocolate bar 5,000 more (25 cents) than the last city. It's embarrassing.

More driving tips:
I realized that my last tips were more about country side driving, after watching a fellow traveler cause so many near-misses and not even being aware of them.

All around tips: don't be cheap. Okay, you bought the bike $200 and you will sell it in a month at a loss so you want to limit your spending. But how much is your life worth? Go and fix that front break, don't wait until you almost hit a cow and shit your pants.

Be gentle with her. Give her a name. "Treat her line a woman", was what Tanja told me. I'm not very nice to girls though, but when learning the clutch I got what she was saying... listen to her. Treat her well. Spoil her. Give her an oil change every few days. It's your life on the line.

Splurge, dammit. I just got a new helmet for 350,000 Dongs with visor and ears protection and I regret not doing it earlier.

City driving guide.
Eyes looking ahead. Big time. Don't worry about your sides or what's behind you. The Vietnamese are excellent at anticipating, as long as you drive responsibly and somewhat like them.

The right part of your line, again, is the buffer zone for window shoppers, texters, kids on bikes, people driving the wrong way. The part on the left is for people who drive fast and they can be ridiculously close to each other. I avoid it.

Don't do smooth large loops to dodge people and things. Try to drive as straight as possible. Again, there's people really close to you and they don't expect you to do that.

Intersections are awesome, because they are so chaotic. There's no stop signs. Some people go on the red light. Cars and trucks don't slow down. Just slow down (sometimes to a crawl) and assess the situation. People will avoid you.

Honking doesn't mean "fuck you" like home. It means "I'm here, watch out". Don't be afraid to use it.

If you see someone coming up on a side street to merge, give them some space. They will not look or stop. It's your job to give them the room they need. Serve slowly and lightly to your left and everything will be fine

Vietnam Greetings

I'm sitting at the public computer in this nice little hostel in Hue, Vietnam. A light but steady rain is washing the streets but the sun is strong enough to pierce the clouds and illuminate the land. I'm waiting for the weather to improve so I can get on Lucky Lucy, my Honda Win. She will take me to Da Nang in the south where tomorrow I have an interview to be accepted in a college ran by Canadians.

They will train me to become a teacher so that I can work, here in Vietnam. If everything goes well, I'll be putting my bags down for a while and get a more in-depth look at this amazing culture.

I've been in Vietnam for 3 weeks now, all of it has been great.

Right from the start, crossing the land border (a small bridge over a river) from China to Vietnam, I've had a huge weight lifted off my shoulders and been walking around, contempt.

First of all, everybody is warm. So warm. The locals are not tired at all of tourists. They stare at my tattoos a lot but if I smile at them, they smile back, 99% of the time. And what beautiful smiles.

No one is shitting in the streets, or spitting in the bus, or shouting at me for no fucking reason. This was a reality the second I stepped on Vietnam soil. Just a small river separates China from Vietnam and yet, the difference is stunning.

The food is delicious, not that spicy, and if you stick to street vendors you can get away with spending $10 a day for your three meals. A beer is usually $1. Not 2% Chinese stuff either. I've had a few hangovers already.

Around the middle of the country, near Hue, the coast with sunny warm beaches is just 50km away from wet and cloudy mountains. Diversity at such a close range.

My first night in Vietnam was spent on a sleeper train, traveling with Claudio the Italian basketball coach. After Nilkanth, he's my second favorite person that I traveled with on this trip. We shared a booth on the train with an Irish guy who froze when he heard The Pogues softly playing on my speaker. We shared some beers and stories.

We arrived in Hanoi at 5am, groggy, sleepy. There I would get my first Vietnam lesson: money is fucking confusing. 20,000 Dongs roughly equals $1. Our cab costs us 150,000 and as we all try to pay the driver at the same time, he starts moving money around, trying to confuse us as to who paid what amount and he is slightly successful. At the end of the transaction I overpaid by 30,000 Dongs and realized as he was driving away. I get very angry, until I realize that I only lost $1,50 in the transaction. Second lesson of Vietnam: count your change. Third lesson: everything's cheap.

We check in our hotel where the receptionist is sleeping in a small folder bed behind the counter. He tells us to put our bags down and go sleep in the common area, we're too early to check in. We gladly comply and sleep until 10am, after which we get to our rooms, drop our bags, have a little shower and workout, and go explore.

We get some cheap food and promptly get lost in the Old Quarters, the backpackers area, where every street has a commerce specialty. We see food street, bar street, metal street, bike repair street, clothes street. We see scooters everywhere, people just sitting around waiting, little dogs, birds in cages chirping away in the front of little stores, street vendors, cooked dog.

It's Friday, and when the sun goes down around 6pm, all the little bars and restaurants put small plastic stools out and the streets get clogged with beer drinkers, both westerners and locals. We quickly find out about Beer Hoi (tap beer), rumored to be brewed in a day but I don't know how this is possible. We sit next to the keg because, well, one mug is 5,000 Dong (25 cents), the beer is cold and the air is warm. After a few hours our duo of travelers has evolved into a full group of 10 people, some backpacking, some on holiday, some ex-pats. As we sit and talk and laugh, the street sounds of scooters, laughter, talking and dog barking lets in something different: the beautiful melody of 2 violins backed up by flute. Meters from us, 3 beautiful girls in black dresses are playing a free show. I am in love with Vietnam.

At midnight, the police shows up and closes everything. The tightly packed crowd quickly disappears but we are approached by club promoters. They take us to what looks like a fancy building, and on the 5th floor a dark club with loud music and a dance floor swallows us whole. We drink and dance until 5am.

We have to take a bus to Ha Long bay at 8am. It was rough.

We got packed in a small gray bus expertly navigating the small crowded streets. In the back, 5 Australian bros are talking loudly and laughing. They carry a huge boombox. Everyone else on the bus is quiet. I secretly hope that they are not on our boat tour, for I feel like taking it easy tonight.

We spent 2 nights in Ha Long Bay. The first night we spent drinking more Beer Hoi on the roof of the boat with other travelers. The bros were on a different tour so we got to relax. We had the crew turn off all the lights of the boat so we could just lay down and look at the stars while trading travel stories and everyone was nice. The next day we spent on Cat Ba island, where I meet a very dysfunctional couple of a 60-year old Vietnam millionaire woman who bathes topless, and a 30-year old scruffy-looking Brit. Weird conversations ensued.

I ended up getting pretty sick from swimming in the dirty bay where our bungalow was. I was afraid of Dengue but I just got mild fever and a cough that stuck with me for 2 weeks, until I resolved to spitting out the yellow shit that was coming up. I stayed a total of 8 days in Hanoi, relaxing, trying out the food, walking around, looking at INTESOL schools and streaming hockey very early in the morning, from the hotel lobby computers. I absolutely loved Hanoi and wouldn't mind working there for a while.

Buying my motorbike, that I paid $230 for - helmet, rack and bungee cords included - I ran into a German couple I met on mount Hua Shan in China, a month earlier. They're also buying a bike (that I later learned we should have paid $50 for) and we decide to travel south together, for safety's sake.

We left the next day on the first step to an amazing journey.

Cheers guys

Beijing Scammers and the Forbidden City

20/09/2014

As some of you may know, I made a conscious decision to leave semi-prepared, hoping this would make the trip more interesting. I checked the "essentials" online a few days before leaving to make sure I wouldn't miss out on any cool things to do or have problems at borders and that was it.

Well, it has certainly made things more interesting.

On my way to the Forbidden Palace, about to exit the subway station, I am intercepted by two Chinese women of about 40 who could speak english very well. They offered me to join them for the Forbidden Palace, they would act as translators. They were part of a bigger tourist group but decided to split for a day.

That's what they said.

"Cool", I thought to myself, some company.

My top, best, favorite thing in travels is to mingle with the locals.It's not always easy. It is also one of the reasons why I love Laos so much, they let you right into their life.

After we exit the subway, they guide me to the forbidden city, all the while making small talk and invite me for some tea before we proceed.

This is when the spider-sense would have been tingling, have I read a little bit more about Beijing beforehand.

We had some tea, I had a beer and they ordered some cocktails and snacks. We had a good conversation about China and Canada and some laughs, and then came the bill.

One. Hundred. Dollars.

Even better, the tiny place where we are is dead silent. Then my brain starts working out some details I should have paid attention to. There's only one table in this place, a tiny spot in the corner. Looks normal for a chinese place though, but still. Also, the sign for open/closed is switched to Closed in the window facing the street.

The waitress and both ladies are staring at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows and say that this is really expensive and ask for a discount for my beer, which was $10. Considering there's 50 cents cans right next door to my hotel, this was ludicrous.

The waitress, upon hearing my request, immediately starts shouting! "YOU PAY! YOU PAY!". One of the ladies says that it is chinese customs for the man to pick up the whole bill. "That's fine but I'm not chinese, and you were the one to invite me." I offer to pay for my beer and 1/3 of the tea ($50 alone!). I calmly take out my money and put it on the table, then stare at the other two ladies without saying a word. No one picks up my moneys. After a few, very tense seconds, one of the two ladies starts laughing and says she will pay the rest. I ended up paying $35 for beer and tea! More than the price of my room for a night, or even a full day in South-East Asia.

Later on in my travels I would meet other people, men and women, who would fall for this scam. One french man explains "It is the most expensive water I have ever drank".

Very bitterly I exit the restaurant and tell the women that it was over-priced and ridiculous. It still hadn't crossed my mind that they were working in tandem with the store owner, just that they wanted to be spoiled.

"Tea made me hungry, do you want to come with us and eat some noodles?"

At this point I realized that I had been a huge idiot. I stopped in my tracks and stared at them longer. I told them I was going to go on, on my own. They said their goodbyes cheerfully and went their way, probably back to the subway station to hook more tourist-fish with their deceptive worms of smiles.

I hope that once in a while, lying in their bed in the evening, they think about what they do, and they can't sleep at night.

Moments later, I find myself in front of the ticket office for the Forbidden City. There is an inner battle in my mind: Cost for my day - scam included - versus memories. In the end I tell myself I made it all the way to freaking China, might as well. I'll skip on some other things.

Inside the walls of the Forbidden City I look around wide-eyed. This had been a dream of mine since I was a kid, hearing about it in a movie.

The entrapment scam had unfortunately left a sour taste in my mouth. I can honestly say that I did not enjoy walking the confines of this ancient, sacred place. Everything looked too new and rebuilt as well.

Surrounded by chinese tourists I climbed up and down white stairs sculpted in rock, up white balconies, always decorated with intricate railings where heads of what looked like dragons equipped with short elephant snouts pointing up stare out in every direction, for ever.

At the top of these stairs - always in red walls roofed by ornate green tiles supported by wooden beams lacquered in gold - are the buildings used by emperors centuries ago, where they prayed and held ceremonies. The first building was situated maybe 10 feet higher than the court but the more you moved towards the middle of the Forbidden City, the bigger these buildings became and the higher they were situated.

Amassed at the doors of said buildings are waves and waves of people - all chinese, all with black heads - pushing and shoving to get a cellphone picture of an ancient throne of gold or a giant gong or the empress's living quarters, separated only from the onslaught of chinese tourists by a metal bar, chest-high, and a quiet guard sitting bored on a chair.

Walking absent-minded I go through the process, seeing a series of buildings almost identical to each other for about an hour. I don't even feel observed any more, even if I am the only foreigner for long stretches.

Finally, I see something that truly impressed me.

In the middle of these stairs, always laid down and following the incline are stone carvings depicting various scenes.

In the center of the complex however, following the longest stairs, this stone is HUGE.

As you walk up the stairs you can watch the scene unfold, of dragons emerging from a stormy ocean to go dance in a sky occupied by clouds of tempest.

The giant white stone has apparently been dragged there centuries ago, from thousands of miles away. This piece of rock is enormous. I'm not good with dimensions but if it was laid up and straight it would probably be about 20 feet high at least, and 7 feet wide. It was brought there by very determined people during winter time. They would sprinkle water on the ground to form an icy path and slid the stone that way across China.

Impressive.

Canada-UK fool

 As part of a small project in continuity I'll post a picture of what I look like on my passport versus what I look like at the border. Here goes, the first Fool Pic (Canada - UK):

My last post in ASEA

I am in Bangkok, sitting at a computer offered by the guesthouse I am staying at. The internet is a meak $2 an hour. I choose to afford this luxury because I have been here for 4 nights already and I have another 3 more to go. I am also cursed with a crippling muscle cramp in my left shin, my second since Laos. A quick internet search lets me know that dehydratation is the main cause of this. 

I know I drink too much, body, why do you have to punish me like this?

I'm walking at around 2 km/h and my only trips out are to go eat, and it's incredibly painful. I don't mind the lack of mobility, but usually by the end of the day I feel light-headed, my hands are shaking, and all I can do is crawl in bed and play some games on my iPod to try and ignore the pain.

My usual remedy for pain both mental and physical - beer - is what caused this predicament, and so I must refrain. 

So here I am, listening to Bernard Adamus, sitting directly under a fan and still sweating, writing my thoughts down like I did at the start of my trip. I missed this, but for some reason on Don Det the inspiration was lacking. Rather, I was too busy having fun and soaking in all the delicious moments.

I stare out the window of the AC-ed computer room, at the cute Thai receptionists who show only contempt for me. I can't blame them, travelers seem to think that they can be as big douchebags as possible here in Bangkok.

They must have seen a lot of stupid white people.

The day after I left Don Det with a smile for I miss my friends at home, but a melancholy for everyone, I arrived at the guesthouse and out of reflex connected to that social media only to learn that one of the ex-pats living on the island, Carl, died in his house in the night. He was 63 years old. He used to be in the British army.

He used to kill people for money, is how he put it.

This left me with some feeling I cannot quite describe... How will I die and who will find me? Will my life have mattered? I started to think about my plans to live on Don Det for a few years but decided to focus on Bangkok and being reunited with the Thai culture instead. 

After 3 months on an island where the only vehicules are motor bikes and bicycles, being thrown into this tsunami of cars, tuk-tuks, scooters and pedestrians I started to feel light-headed. Also, climbing the steps to my room in the guesthouse left me with sever pain in my chest which I could only guess was caused by the heavy pollution. To climb 10 steps I need to take a break and focus on my breathing - backpack or not.

I was supposed to fly out on the 10th of April. Supposed to. I checked my flight at least 5 times. 02:00, BKK airport, 10/04/13. A quick meeting with 2 friends from home on transit in Bangkok as well, and at 11:00 I bid them goodbye and grab a cab to the airport.

Arriving at the gigantic, 6 stories high glass monster that is BKK airport, I am again overwhelmed with how many people there are and how big everything is. Inside, despite the hour, the floors are buzzing with travelers going somewhere else. 

Me, I'm going home. 

I find myself standing in front of the giant luminous screen that offers the schedules for all the flights in the next 24 hours. Scanning for 2am and I cannot see my flight. Suddenly, I start to sweat despite the AC. I'm starting to breath quicker. I take a few steps back to see the whole of the screen and look for the icon of British Airways. 

Finally I spot it, farther on the left. On the left? That can only mean... 

00:20...

I look at my iPod... 11:53.

My mouth lets a "fuck" escape. 

I have been convinced since high school that I have numbers dyslexia. So many math tests that I failed because I have inverted two numbers for no reason, or put a comma at the wrong place. This confirms it for me. I have verified SO MANY TIMES that goddamn time, I scream at myself in my head.

I run to the British Airways counter. No clients. I go to the agent and tell them I am getting on that flight.

"No, you're not. It's too late."

"There's nothing we can do? There's no rush line?"

"No. You have to call customer service."

The Thai clerk nonchalantly hands me over a tiny piece of paper with a 24-hour, 1-800 Thai number on it and waves me off. 

I find a webphone and try to call. They do not accept calls to toll-free numbers. Great. I go back to the British Airways desk and everyone is gone. 

Reality sets in that I have missed my flight and wasted $1500. 

I had a great plan set up with my friend Mathieu. He had a BBQ organised on the 13th just for the occasion. Everyone was gonna be there and I was gonna pop out and film everyone's reaction. 

I go back to the flight projections and see there are no flights from British Airways scheduled in the next 24 hours. I pay an obscene amount of Baths to use a phone at their "communication services" counter and call the 24-hour helpdesk, who turns out to be open only from 08:00 to 16:00. 

I feel like crying. I pay another fee to use the social media monster just long enough to let my parents know what happened. I have 300 Bhats left to go back to Bangkok, everything is too expensive here in the airport. 

It cost me 243 Bhats to get here so I hope I will be fine. I go back out and am accosted by a few cab drivers who all wave me off rudely when I ask them to use the meter - they all want 500 Bhats to go back to Koh Sang Road. 

Finally I find one who wants 350 bhats or to charge me 50 bhats just to use the meter. I open my walet, give him the 300 bhats I have left and tell him that's all I have. 

He smiles and tells me to get in.

20 minutes later and I am back at the guesthouse with a feeling of defeat, culminating with my leg cramp and the death of Carl. I drop my bags in the room, go back out and buy a few beers, and sit down with 2 Thai girls that manage a small cocktail bar on the side of the road. They manage to make me smile, and after 3 beers and refusing a generous offer of good times from a ladyboy I'm drunk and off to bed.

The next day I connect to the Social Serpent to find messages by my parents who were quite angry. They had the right to, they offered to pay for that ticket. Utterly defeated and depressed, I disconnect and go eat breakfast alone, at 2 km/h. It will be a few hours before I reply to them, once I calmed down.

That day was spent trying to reach both the Bangkok and London British Airways offices where either the numbers were out of order or the person on the line would "not hear me" - either from a landline, cellphone, or skype - and hang up on me.

I swallowed my pride and decided to buy a new ticket. 

At least, I bought it after the water festival. If I'm to stay a night or two more, at least let's make it worth it

Étienne, you awake?

(Keep in mind, these are from my Lao notebook)

Every time I start a day with Ken asking me through the bamboo door: "Étienne, you wanna go somewhere with me today?" I know it's going to be a good day.

Today we went to the neighbor island of Don Son to bring 8 bags of rice to the rice mill.

I had never been there and was amazed at it's difference from Don Det, being a short swim away from one another. Simpler (even more) living, smaller trails (no roads), no guesthouses or western-style restaurants. It was also much cleaner.

Our first stop was to eat some "feuh" (delicious noodle soup, also usually the cheapest food available) and we then watched the mill work a little bit. We were there at 1 pm so it was already a very hot day... time for a swim!

Me and Arron jumped in the river and started playing with 3 kids under the watchful eye of their mother (you never know what kind of foreigner you'll get). After 20 minutes of that I decided to walk up to the mother to introduce myself, show her I was the respectful kind of tourist (I realised on the spot that I was not wearing a shirt, which is usually kind of impolite).

As I was buying myself a snack in a tiny store installed in front of the woman's house, a Lao man in his 20s walked past me. I had learned "Kim Beer Bo?" a few days ago (loosely translated to "Want to eat beer?" so I asked him and he said yes with a smile.

As I am grabbing 2 cans of Angkor beer (finally a change from Beerlao!) in the mini-fridge, about 6 kids arrived. I guess the word got out that a farang was in town. I bought them all a little bag of chips and had my beers with the Lao man and the mother.

After this there was no more getting away from the kids. Me and Arron proceeded to spin them around for about 40 minutes. We got hot again so we went back in the river and started throwing the kids around. One of them was a little dare-devil so I threw him as high and far as I possibly could and in mid-air he looked back at me and gave me two thumbs up, smiling wide!

An hour or so of this later, me and Arron are pretty much exhausted. We got out of the water to get dry when the ice cream man drove by with his scooter. You can recognise them because they have a metal coolbox built on top of their motorbike! Me and the kids all ran up to him yelling the word for ice cream (that I since forgot) and I bought about 15 pop sicles for all the little guys and gals - not sure if it cost me over 2 dollars.

By that time the mill had done it's work. We waved everyone goodbye, woke up Ken and got back on our boat towards Don Det.

It's one of my favourite memories of my 6 months of travels.

       The Don Son Kids (click for video)

Dédié à Jessica, c'était cool de finalement rencontrer ta fille! 

Kep

Ah, Kep.

J'ai quitté Phnom Penh avec un degré de frustration, accumulation de plusieurs petits trucs... Et le tracas d'avoir perdu l'envi d'écrire. Je me tanne toujours vite de mes projets.

Arrivé à Kep après 3 heures de transports rocambolesques à travers champs, risières, routes en construction, chemins de terres rouges, un chauffeur qui conduit comme un ivrogne en tabarnak... Et malgré tout j'ai dormi les 3/4 du temps, j'avais la banquette arrière à moi tout seul.

Un gars s'gâte.

Débarquant du mini-bus au centre de la ville, qui est en fait qu'un stationnement entouré de restos, plaqués par la mer qui elle se cache derrière un petit muret de briques et une minuscule plage. Je remarque que tout les hommes à 1mille à la ronde ont les yeux rivés sur une cambodgienne. J'admire ce don de la nature un instant.

Il n'y a qu'un seul tuk-tuk, miracle! Je suis le seul à m'arrêter ici, donc je n'ai pas à me soucier de mon lift. Le chauffeur connait la guesthouse la moins chère en ville. Je sais pas si c'est vrai, mais 6$ la chambre ça me va. Propre en plus!

En après-midi je me loue un scooter qui tient à peine ensemble et vais me promener sur le bord de la mer. Des statues de shiva avec 8 bras, d'une femme de pêcheur nue, de gros poulets en or (?). Des petits restos jonchent les plages, et c'est possible se louer une petite hutte avec un hamak, mais c'est 5$ juste pour s'asseoir.

Des singes se gavent de fruits et n'ont pas l'air trop impressionés par la vue magnifique.

Un peu sans idée quoi faire je me dirige vers le parc national et commence à marcher le sentier, mais après 30 minutes je change d'idées et décide d'aller lire dans ma chambre et écouter la télé. Je pensais trop à la maison.

Le soir je soupe et jase avec la serveuse, elle sourit sans arrêt et ça me remonte le moral un peu. Je m'endors en me demandant kossé que j'fa icitte, ya rien.

Le lendemain matin par contre, je me réveille avec un poids en moins sur les épaules. Les petits trucs agaçants de Phnom Penh ne sont pas présents ici après tout.

Je vais nager dans la mer pour au moins 2 heures. Je me renseigne sur Rabbit Island, ma prochaine destination. J'apprend aussi que il n'y a pas de ATM dans la ville, petit stress.

Je regarde dans mon porte-monnaie. 50$. Stress confirmé. C'est en masse pour 2 jours, mais j'avais prévu 4-5.

La petite serveuse m'informe que certains resorts peuvent te donner de l'argent de ta carte de crédit. Elle les appelle pour moi mais curieusement toutes les machines de la ville sont hors d'état.

Le petit sourire m'informe que je dois aller à Kamput, normalement ma destination après Rabbit Island. 30 minutes en scooter.

Je n'ai pas le choix et donc me prépare. Après tout, je ne suis plus un débutant voyageur! Je n'amène que ma clef de chambre et mon porte-monnaie, placés sous le banc du scooter. J'enfile mes souliers, car la route de Paï m'avait déchiré l'orteil à cause d'un poulet. Finalement, casquette (soleil) lunettes de biker (mouches dans yeux), bandeau (poussière).

Ici tout le monde porte les petits masques de chirurgien, alors je n'ai pas l'air d'un bandit ou d'un manifestant comme la police de Montréal vous incline à penser.

Nouveau petit truc: la palette par en arrière fait mieux glisser le vent sur ma tête et mes yeux ne pleurent pas.

Je parcours une route de ciment des fois recouverte de ce sable rouge damné, et je dois dépasser des immenses camions qui m'envoient poussière et polution, tout en évitant trous, cailloux, enfants et chiens.

Très intense, mais je reviens à temps de ma mission pour admirer un coucher de soleil au Crab Market, en observant les femmes terminer leur journée. Elles sont très mignonnes, les jeunes pêcheuses, et y'en a une qui semble rire de mes tattoos de jambes.

2 chiens sortent de nul part pour venir jouer avec moi. Ils ne me lâchent pas pendant 20 minutes et essayent de me licher la barbe. Non merci pti bum!

Après un autre bon repas à saveur de fruits de mer je m'installle dans mon lit propre (petit luxe) et m'acharne sur ce blog, les batteries rechargées, la soif d'explorer revenue, et le coup de soleil qui pique.

Ce soir m'attendent les nouveaux personnages de game of thrones, et des films de kung-fu mal traduits en Khmer.

Dans les jours suivants, Ben et Jen me rejoignent, et Sipokazi. Ensuite, Rabbit Island.

Paï si tu veux pas lire (Guillaume)

Very good nice

Lop Buri jour 1

Waiting for the train I meet a Polish woman. We talk of Game of Thrones and our travels, and of our next hostels.

I arrive in Lop Buri and am offered a lift in a taxi-bike. I scarcely fit on the back seat with my bag and my size (even if I'm starting to lose weight I'm very often the biggest person in a Thaï crowd).

Arriving at the hostel there are 3 other travelers. They see me arrive in the cycle and give me a despising look. More people to avoid, I suppose. I am surprised to hear them speak french, they are usually very friendly.

In the hostel me and the polish girl ask for rooms, but she turns from a very sweet woman to a very aggressive one, making rightful demands but in a tone that makes me wonder who she thinks she is.

I decide that I don't like the rooms, in truth to avoid her, and cross the street to another hotel but she decides to do the same.

The second hotel is not very clean but it is cheaper, and I meet two spanish sisters who seem to be easy-going. I go for a walk in this city of tight streets, where all the balconies and windows are covered in wire because MONKEYS share the city and like to fuck shit up.

I stop in a market set up between two buildings and stop for a bite at KFC (getting a little tired of noodles and unknown meat)... I never eat it a home but here it's different.

In the restaurant I was the main attraction. Only teenagers are in there and they sneakily watch me gulp down a chicken sammich. I walk out of there and must rush back to my hotel to evacuate this crap. At least it tasted good...

At the lobby I inquire about a temple full of monkeys, and if they have Muay Thaï. They explain that it is the province's holiday and so there will be a big fair with a boxing match. The polish woman waltz in our conversation and decides that she will be coming with me to the event.

We leave at 8pm. Right before leaving we run into the two sisters and I invite them, they gladly accept.

We get to the fair, a maze of stalls selling shirts and trinkets, food and fruitshakes, and even motorcycles and cars. A group of teenagers are eagerly waiting for the result of a draft for a free scooter.

We have no clue where the boxing match is, and after 20 minutes of walking I start to ask around. Nobody speaks english but after repeating Muay Thaï a couple of times they can usually point me in a general direction.

After 30 more minutes of searching and asking around, while the sisters are laughing and looking at all the clothing and food, the polish woman suddenly becomes angry, spreads her arms up and asks "whoooo's idea was this? Wheeeeere are we going?" And looks at the 3 of us accusingly.

I'm not one to take shit so I answer directly that it was my idea, I'm leading them, but I'm also the only one making an effort of it and she doesn't have to stick with me if she doesn't like it. The group stops talking for a while.

I finally find the ring of Muay after an hour of looking. The sisters leave us, they don't like violence.

The fighters were ranging from maybe 7 to 15 years old, the violence and the intensity of the fights really surprised me.

The sacred nature of it was what I likes the bes however. Fighters walk in the ring and proceed to bow to every corner of the ring, under the music of some Thaï high-pitched flute. After going around the ring they bow to the 4 cardinal points and then kneel and pray in the direction of their home. They then do a dance representative of their school of boxing.

I later learn that if two fighters have the same dance, they cancel the fight, because boxers of the same school can't fight each other.

The best fight featured a guy vs a girl. It was a very close fight, the guy was stronger and tried to score points by throwing the girl on the ground, but the girl moved like a panther and could sneak in good puches and kicks to the head. I found myself cheering for her.

At the end of the match both fighters were exhausted, standing in their respective corner while the judges were arguing about the winner. All of a sudden, the guy's legs let go from under him and he passed out, making the girl the winner.

After the fight I walked back to my hotel while avoiding a few monkey gangs and tried to sleep in one of the worst beds I' ve had so far.

De Siergo à Malapascua

I am woken up by the voice of Damien: "Lève-toi Étienne!"
I am on my feet in seconds. Quick look at the clock: 4am. Drink a little bit of water. Put the last of my things in my bag. Open the door, it's raining hard.

The taxi driver is here, all smiles. "Good morning!" I mumble a reply. He grabs my bag and tells me to follow him. I first run to the bar and steal a banana.

Get to the vehicule, a motorobike with a sidecar, a floor and seat built over, and a crude roof fashioned.

The night is an ebony fog. The rain, a warm, heavy shower that shows no signs of slowing down. The smell of gasoline invades my senses as we ride through the streets towards Dapa, where my ferry is.

I'm trying to ignore my hangover.

Get to the ferry, I only have a 500 pesos bill, so I get cheated out of 200 pesos by the driver. I do not thank him.

Buy my ticket, and get on the boat to Surigao. I will arrive there in 5 hours.

Sit on a bench by the rails, outside. Watch the sun rise and the people arrive.

5 am, we leave. I put on my earphones, play some Lucero. I think about my friends back home. I focus on the fact that in a month I will be doing most of my traveling alone. I lean down on the bench and fall asleep.

Wake up 2 hours later, still traveling. We arrive in Surigao at around 10am. A big city, compared to where I have been staying. The taxis are lined up for foreigners like me.

Again, it's a motorbike with a sidecar, but this time the roof is made of metal. I tell the driver I'm going to Cebu. "Yes, yes, Cebu, come!"

Move through tight streets, big enough for 2 small cars. We're inches away from taxis in front and behind. Cross streets without stopping. There's no street lights here, you just snake around other cars.

We leave the city. As we cross a tiny bridge on the side of the ocean, it starts raining again... Sideways. The driver gives me a shirt for me to hold up as a shield.

We start going up a steep hill. His bike stops in a curve. We will be stuck on the hill for 10 minutes as he swears and plays with wires and bolts. I am drenched. Cars and bikes pass by us slowly. It is my first "what the fuck is going on" moment.

Get to another ferry, leaving in 5 minutes. The driver overcharges me but I have no time to argue. Get on the boat, walk inside and get a cheap chicken soup, those where you just put hot water in.

The newspaper shows a picture of Harper with the president of the Philippines. A worker comes to chat with me.

An hour later, we dock at a new island. The port consists of one building and a gate, with one road turning into the jungle. I get a little nervous.

A worker points me to a bus I need to take. Smaller than a city bus, with no windows. I am lucky to get a seat.

We will be traveling on the road for 4 hours, going up and down mountains by the ocean, around towns and villages, stopping often to grab people on the road. We quickly get over-crowded.

In a curve on a hill we almost get in a head-on collision with a car that was going too fast. The girl next to me gasps loudly. 10 minutes later and she will still be holding her head. I start to ask her questions to change her mind, and it seems to work.

There's hutts scrambled everywhere along the road, and sometimes they become a pile of houses, and suddenly it's a town with a little store that sells text messages and rum.

I am happy to see that schools are always the nicest buildings. A yard in the middle, often with a basketball court and a garden so they learn about plants and farming. and classrooms lined around the yard.

We finally get to Sogood, at 3pm. I am very hungry. I need to get to Bato and no one seems to understand me. Finally a man tells me I just have to wait for the right bus.

I decide to leave the bus terminal to get some noodles and a bottle of water, and eat it at the bus terminal. The terminal is just several rows of plastic chairs in between two buildings, about 20 feet wide, with a small tv playing 101 dalmatians. The people laugh as they watch the movie.

As I am absantly eating my noodles I start walking towards the buses, when I notice one about to leave. It says Bato on a piece of paper in the window. I quickly dispose of my food and run to the bus as he is pulling away, and manage to get inside.

No seat this time. I am crunched between 3 women which I tower over, and am leaning over an old lady sitting on my left. I hold on to poles and switch hands often to conserve my strenght, I have no idea how long this bus ride will be. I am too stresses to realise how hungry I am.

After 30 minutes enough people get off for me to get a seat, but at the next stop an old lady comes in. I am the only one to offer her my seat. She gives me a warm smile and says "thank, thank".

I will be riding this bus or another 3 hours, and sometimes I feel like I am in those cheap old cartoons where the background would repeat itself several times: everything starts to look the same.

Finally arrive in Bato. A man on a bicycle with a sidecar that looks like a grocery store cart offers to take me to the ferry. I accept, i have no clue where it is and I am in the middle of a market.

I get to the office to buy my ticket. The young lady comes to the window, sees me, gasps and hides behind a paper taped to the window. I wait for a few seconds until she reappears.

"I am sorry sir, you are very handsome foreigner, I lost my breath. I need a minute!" As everyone in her office laughs, I give her a wink that makes her blush and tell her that she is very pretty too.

We flirt as I book my ticket, and she asks me if I have a wife or a girlfriend, and if I will be back in Bato.

"No, but I will be in Cebu for a few days"
"Cebu! Good for foreigners. Good bars. You get a lucky wife there"

I walk around the pier a little bit, and venture a few meters in the market to get chicken brochettes and rice at a stand. They are the best brochettes I have eaten in a long time. Across the street people are gambling on a "rolling rock" table, an old man keeps screaming "oh!" as regularly as a metronome.

A lady with her kids at the stand asks me where my wife is, and is surprised that I am single, and traveling alone. She asks me if I like FilipinAs, or FilipinOs. I confirm the former and she laughs, tells me to make Filipinas happy.

The sun sets, on the pier are speakers and a Filipino cover band is playing covers of american songs. "Wish you were here" starts, and as I lay down on a bench and watch children play, I think about a girl back home. I wonder if she's thinking of me. I feel far from home, but I like the feeling.

At 8 I finally get to board the next ferry, an overnight trip to Cebu. Bunkbeds are everywhere. I took the Tourist class, in an AC room, where my toes are freezing. I get in my bunkbed, spoon my bag, and promptly fall asleep.

Le Bum

When I was in high school everyone used to call me ''Le Bum'', probably because of my attire. I would pretty much wear cargo pants and a black sweatshirt every day, and so people thought my parents were poor. I just didn't give a crap about watches, necklaces... I'd change shoes when I couldn't skateboard in them anymore...

I've been living in my friends' house for the past 2 weeks, in their guest room. The last of my belongings that have not been boxed in are with me: my tv, my ps3 (gotta game!), my ipod (music!), and a portion of my clothes.

I told my parents I was not moving back to the condo I was renting from them, when I get back from asia. I'm tired of fighting with them. And so, for the first time in 5 years, I don't really have a place to call my own. A strange feeling is constantly over me these days, like I need people to get by. I've always been independent and proud, so it's quite a new sensation, and I don't really like it.

This is what made me think of my high school nickname. Le Bum. Truly, these days, I am. I am unemployed for the next few months too, with no regular income. That is also a first in 10 years.

Strange how everything is liberating however. No insurance to pay. No cable, internet, heating, no need to get up in the morning, no cats to feed... nothing to worry about.

Exactly how I thought I'd live my life when I was younger.

Today is my last day in this house in the suburbs. I have another friend who is visiting Turkey and asked me to watch his place and take care of his cat, and so when I'm done been lazy, I'll be going there.

When I get back from my trip, I'll be couch surfing again. Living off people's generosity, trying to get back with much less than what I'm used to.

It's quite a humbling experience.