The end... for now.

OK, So I am back home. Sad, ... very sad, but true. Its great to see all the friends and family, and eat all the mexican food I can, but its hard not to be still travelling. I think the trick to returning home is to keep the travel mentality alive - even in your own town which you think you are familiar with. I say keep going, keep travelling everyday, take new roads to work, go on mini adventures to places you haven't been, and just keep the feeling and spirit which you travelled with alive in your own heart - everyday. I thank everyone for keeping in tune with the blog, as it was very cool to hear all the feedback on my travels. I have so many stories to tell and observations to tell, so please, get with me soon and won't mind a bit telling all I can. I will get around to posting a decent amount of pictures on a flickr account or picasa page. As you can see, my writing skills are pretty wiped out, as I am still mentally in another world... As for the future, I am still in travel mode, not planning more than 2 weeks out. Yeah, Ill do the job thing, but the travels and stories aren't over yet... so stay in touch for another semi interesting blog, idea or who knows... maybe a book Cheers... thank you and much love, Taylor ill never forget the way I felt.

FEEJEE!

For those who haven't given up on my poor updating skills completely... Here is a few pictures of Fiji! I blazed through Kuala Lumpur and Singapore in just a few days, and only took pictures of pretty buildings... So I will post those of Singapore another time. I then hopped back over from Singapore to Australia then to New Zealand to catch a flight to Fiji. There I met up with my good friend Karolina in Fiji and spent my last 11 days in the pacific sunbathing, eating interesting culinary dishes, watching horrid Fiji entertainment and snorkeling. I also went spearfishing, which was awesome. The sunsets from a tent or a small bungalow don't hurt to put one in a calm, relaxed mood before travelling home... needless to say, it was beautiful!

Kuala Lumpur!

Kuala Lumpur is a fast paced modern city that has just as many Malay computer dorks as burqa-clad women pacing the streets in the hustle and bustle of business or shopping leisurely in the western style shopping malls (many). Its Islam meets the west, but still assurts that its in an Asian country and is spotted with glittering high rises (including my favorite - Petronas Towers, worlds 3rd tallest building), beautiful parkland, dominating minarets and mosques. The metropolitan mix of the differing cultures and huge diversity of people in a compact, yet speedy area made it my favorite south asian megacity! (Im kinda obsessed with the Petronas Towers... so thats just about the only thing I took pictures of...OH BUT THEY SO PRETTY!)

Ko Lanta, Thailand

If you feel like being productive, stay clear of Ko Lanta, Thailand. We moved from the hustle and bustle of Ko Phi Phi to the most chilled out island in Thailand. The change was very welcome and we took the islands laid back atmosphere further when myself, Ricky and 2 english buddies/travel "mates" (as they would say) rented a nice little 2 bedroom villa on the beach. ON the beach. As in 5 meters away from blue water, breaking waves, yellow-white sands and a spotty horizon of islands, including our recent departure point - Ko Phi Phi. We did nothing for 3 days straight. Wake up, walk to fruit market, swim, frisbee, relax in chairs by villa, use the wireless internet to feel bad for those stuck in Bangkok, talk about life, eat lunch, participate in other mindnumbing activities, drink a beer, swim, frisbee, rinse, repeat. We all needed a little melting in the sand and this was the perfect place to do it. Apparently most of the beach house and restuarant owners had the same idea - a few years ago. The beach we called home was also the permenant chillout spot for mostly english expats that found the laziest place in Thailand a paradise compared to the fog and chill of England. So after a coma for a few days, I happened to look at a calendar. Probably the worst and best mistake of the travelling around the southern islands of Thailand, as I realized I had only a few days before getting on a plane from Singapore to Australia - in route to final stop in Fiji then home- thus, I had to hop on a bus the next day to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia - my next destination. Ricky made the awesome decision to keep life slow and exciting and extend his trip an additional month, allowing him to relax and explore Malaysia and Indonesia as they were supposed to be seen and I admire him for it. I would have done it too, but I just don't have the funds! So I bid my farewells to the laziness and sat on a variety of busses and minivans for the next 20 something hours, only to wake up in Malaysia...

Ko Phi Phi and Maya Beach

Most people say Ko Phi Phi is too touristy. I think they should realize that Thailand is touristy. Its a beautiful place, with beautiful people and a tourism industry to support it. With that said, Ko Phi Phi is a bit ridiculous in some touristy aspects. Upon arrival you walk into a maze of guesthouses, restaurants, internet cafes - all with exorbiant prices - and begin to forget the beautiful view from the boat; pristine green tropical tree filled islands with large patches of limestonesqe rock spotting the hills, followed by blue/green water and white beaches. I made it to the arranged guesthouse where Ricky was staying and found him on the beach a few minutes later. The area was packed with people, but one cannot deny the beauty of long tail boats bobbing up in down in blue water in a bay with irradic tropical rock hills on both sides. Ahhhh, I made it.

We decided to go to Maya beach at 6 am the next day, the most popular tourist destiation located on Ko Phi Lak, the neighbooring island (and national park) made famous by the movie "The Beach". We found a willing longtail wooden boat driver and set sail for the spot. Turning into the cove we saw it and were very pleased. A few people had paid atrotious rates to camp there the night before, but the beach was relatively deserted and very beautiful. Just like in the movie, its a demostration of nature's wisdom with a quiet cove of huge stonehinge like rocks coming out of the sea sitting in blue water and followed by white sand and tropical jungle. We prepared to snorkel to the next little beach over and saw 3 baby reef tipped sharks feeding on a school of small fish. Then, while swimming to the next beach, Ricky and our new english buddy Mike, swam really fast away from me in a heavy panic. I reached the shore in a leasure pace and asked them why they were panting and freaking out. They informed me that a 6 foot reef tipped shark had swam right past me. Oh, damn I missed it! I guess its for the better...

We explored Ko Phi Phi as much as we could, but the island has literally been paved over. It was a ground zero for the tsunami of 2004, made evident by the evacuation route signs everywhere on the island and fresh construction of neverending guest houses. It was particularly pretty and fascinating to view the island from a viewpoint/evacuation route on top of one of the hills and see what destruction the enormous waves caused. Ricky picked up a book of an account of a Italian restaurant owner describing the ordeal and the disaster that destroyed this island was a topic of thought sitting on rocks overlooking the beautiful view of the island.

We headed south to get away from the tourist trap of Ko Phi Phi, towards Ko Lanta, as 2 nights was more than enough to experience what Ko Phi Phi is, and dream about how idyllic it was. Taylor

Bangkok, Dangerous?

Hi. Sorry you missed me, I just had to get away from the internet for a bit, but I am back now... I got to Bangkok after the train ride from Soi Yok and had really bad allergies, so I just went to bed. The next morning, I woke up ready to see a little bit of this enormous city and happen to stumble upon a Bangkok Green Bike, a kiosk with racks of bicycles ready to be ridden. (Is that a word? Ridden? please correct me). Naturally I took the map and decided to take the plunge of Bangkok traffic on a Saturday and ride around town. The program has a designated route described in the little booklet they gave me, touting "bicycle lanes" and "a safe and clean way to see the city". Surely you noticed the sacastic emphasizing quotations. Bicycle lanes means green paths that have more cars parked on them than any bicycle. Safe way to see the city? Ive ridden in Austin traffic (terrible, rude), San Francisco (easy, friendly) streets and Los Angeles nightmares, and the baren bike lanes of Phoenix. Los Angeles could be described as a tame waltz in the park compared to Bangkok's living hell for a cyclist. In fact I only saw 2 other cyclists that day, and I am pretty sure they were not riding bikes to 'save the environment' or for ease of getting around, or by choice. So natually, I found riding around all day to see the jewels of Bangkok on a bike.... awesome! The next day consisted of sneezes, irritated by Bangkoks lovely pollution clouds that I previously rode a bicycle through, a harmful Thai massage, and a smile while leaving for the airport. I had an eirely ironic conversation with the taxi driver about corruption, the resent protests (a rocket propelled grenade had exploded last night near a protest site), the police mafia, and what he thinks of all this. All this on the long drive to Bangkoks main airport. Yeah, that one. The one on the news. The one that got shut down 2 days after I left. Nice timing. I flew to Phuket that night, got in and checked into the seedy hotel they used in the film "The Beach" with 2 nice canadians I had met in the van from the airport. The next day I was on a boat to Ko Phi Phi island to meet up with Ricky and see a bit of the beauty of the South Thailand islands... tepe (oh sorry no photos, I lost my usb cord and broke my usb card reader)

Bamboo School

(Momocat feeding Momocho)

(This is Doc Mai (in Thai), or "flower" in english, Who could abandon something so cute at the hospital?)

Founded 8 years ago by a New Zealand Nurse/Teacher/Everything expat, this place is located 30 kilometers outside of Sai yok in the dense jungle of the Thailand/Burma border. The village is Bong Ti and every building is made from bamboo and maybe even concrete. Tucked in the jungle, a little 3 classroom school and multiple building structures sit where 70 something children, this aforementioned nurse and a rotating cast of volunteers live in a communal compound called Bamboo School. We arrived during dinner time where little fingers were diving into rice and vegetables while a talkative Kiwi showed us around and explained how the school is run by the children who are mostly orphaned or deeply disadvantaged (to Western standards) in some way. The stories of these beautiful Karen (native indigenous group to region) children, and one grandma, are filled with atrocities by the Burmese army, unchecked diseases gone wrong, runaway young mothers and drunken good-for-nothing fathers. You melt with compassion when you hear of the story of John a blind and deaf 2 year old with cerebral palsy whose mother had gonharnnrea when she birthed him and abandoned him do to his deformities. You swallow hard when you meet the two brothers who lost their mother only 3 months ago. You shiver when you hear of stories of rape by desperate, lowlife Burmese soldiers that I cannot even bring myself to type. But you smile when you see a happy, creative and productive environment that allows them to go to school, eat well, live well and live in peace amongst each other.

(Peaceaby, resident grandma - cold in 70 degree temperature)

Our first trip was short, but once I returned to Bangkok to send Karolina away to the airport, I decided I needed to give back on this extraordinary trip of mine and headed to Bong Ti (village of Bamboo School). So now here I am, driving the kids to and from school every day while doing odd tasks ranging from fixing bamboo floors to nailing in tin roofs. One minute I am barreling down a beautiful lakeside road to the hospital with a hepatitis B patient in the back, eating ice cream with 3 pre-schoolers and staring at the road smiling at the jagged karst cliffs of Burma. The next I am watching the sunset and the moon rise over Bong Ti while soothing the twitching baby John while he comes down from tripping out in his deaf and blind little world of confused emotion. I have changed diapers filled of stinky pee, bathed from a bucket, learned a few words of a tribal language that I may never use, I have taught English, I have seen West meet tribal East in ways I have yet to understand, and I have laughed at an abandoned 83 year old grandma’s spurts of “I like you, teacher, I like you”. Bamboo school has its troubles. There has been a bit of a mutiny among the 16+ year old boys while thievery has reared its ugly head. There are even lessons and concepts I don’t agree with. But in reflection of my beautiful short time here, I have loved all of it.

(Momocho, aka "curious george" mopping)

Why? Why care? Why set aside a few days for other people? Because people have done it for me and many readers will do it for me in the future. But leaving that behind, I really love it because it is the realest of the real, life at its bare bones with all the skin, flesh, nerves, muscle and blood pushed aside. It is sad, but it is happy – there is hope, there is love. And love, well that’s all you really need…

(lil' John, just waiting for someone to hang out with)

My stay is done here tomorrow morning where I hope on the 5 hour train to Bangkok and then head south to see more of the sun and sand… but I won’t soon forget my stay at Bamboo School.

(some of the kids hanging off the roof of the truck on the way back from the daily trip to school)

(my ice cream companions)

(Bong Ti Bon school)

Taylor PS- There are many stories I have left out of Bamboo School, for reasons of their graphic nature and just because they are better told than wrote (and I don’t have the time to type them out), feel free to ask me about it when I get back!

(locals, straight chillin in the village, note Karen house in back -all bamboo. Army man even gave me a papaya for free!)

For more information, pictures, Momocat's blog, etc, visit www.bambooschool.org

Fast Forward through Thailand.

(I wrote this one and skipped a lot to catch everyone up to what I was doing at Bamboo School)

Entering Thailand by water was a chore consisting of begging Lao immigration authorities to waive the $10 exit fee and haggling with a cab to take us to Chiang Rai for less than the gross overcharge of $6 a person. We finally arrived in Chiang Rai tired, hungry and disappointed as it seemed as if it was a western strip mall. The only sights to be seen were old men clutching to their new found thai “girlfriends” and many tourists wondering why they were there. After finding no room at 3 different inns, we settled on a cheap room with a fan that resembled a dilapidated soviet bedroom more than a $5 a night suite. Karolina refused to sleep on the actual sheets, and personally, I don’t blame her.

So the next morning we packed up, found the bus to Chiang Mai in hopes that the change from R to M in the name of a city would suit us better. Chiang Mai indeed was much better, especially when we rode around on a rented motorcycle to the hills and checked out an overlooked national park and a tourist saturated golden temple. The nights were spent laughing in a local tavern at the disgusting old men picking up the ladies of the night and the awful but surprisingly welcome attempt at Mexican food.

(temple in Chiang Mai, under construction)

Chiang Mai wasn’t disappointing though. We found an excellent little hippie enclave – a supurb vegetarian restaurant/bookshop where I picked up a 1960s copy of Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf and then somehow bought a mini laptop (which I am using right now) for super cheap. The ‘netbook’ as they say was purchased minutes before we had to be on the train to almighty Bangkok and we narrowly made it thanks to a supportive tuk-tuk driver and a lot of luck. (We literally ran for the train as it was starting to chug-chug-chug-chug, time mismanagement skills are fun)

(my new mini computer with a much needed beer on the train to Bangkok)

Bangkok got a few minutes of our attention the next day, but was limited to the area around the train station and a desperate search for coffee and something edible that didn’t involve meat with flies or “carcass like” features. Hop on a bus to Kanchaniburi, a medium sized river town that unknown to me was made famous by a movie called “The Bridge over River Kwai”. We stayed for cheap on the river, watched Sex and the City on my laptop (sad, but true) and lit paper lanterns over the river that floated into the sky… beautiful.

All this detour away from Bangkok was to visit Karolina’s friends (I knew one of them from Vietnam/Jungle Beach) who were doing a malaria project for medical school in Sai yok about an hour’s drive outside Kanchaniburi. We reached this place by motorbike, got a tour of the hospital and field malaria clinics by the intriguingly smile less Dr. Su Pat. But then we got a little tour of Bamboo School.

(candle festival in Sai yok)

A Night on the Mekong

The loud, roaring hum of the massive diesel engine in the rear of this long boat has abruptly stopped. And just when I was getting used to the intrusive sound. I know there is no village in sight, so the sudden quietness of the flowing brown Mekong River is a bit startling, especially because the stream sound is now mixed with unhappy shouts in Laotian. I see that we are shifting into the tropical trees jutting out from the shore. Again, this is startling, but not scary or frightening. A night on the Mekong wouldn't be so bad. We have Pringles (apparently a universal food, little did I know), rice, water and the disgusting Swedish salty candy fish that Karolina insists are the best thing to come out of Sweden. I remind myself that our collection of food will not be as good as the Lao/Thai cuisine we have enjoyed the past few days in Luang Prabang. That and the lovely boat toliet I so gracefully utilized earlier, will not be the most fun. WHACK! A stray stressed tree has just taken ain old German lady in the head. She is fine, but a bit startled, so now I hold back my laugh. The crazy gypsy couple chuckles for me as I smile at them. Its nice to know at least some excitement is occurring when the last 12 hours has consisted of ipod, tropical hills that make up both sides of the Mekong, learning Swedish phase by phase, and teaching Spanish - all in the name of killing time. And dodging salty Swedish fish/the Laotian man's nasty feed from behind me. Rugrugrugrugrugrugrugrugrug... ok they are starting to get the engine to turn...oh..... oh... nope. A night on the Mekong it is. I sit on the side of the boat, while everyone scurries about trying to set up makeshift camps on the boat. The captain and his family make their rounds and notify everyone of a free dinner of sticky rice in one hour as they are clearly embarrassed of their engine's sickness. For the most part, everyone stays calm, remembers that they are in Laos and this is expected. Those who booked their hotel in advance as well as paid for the next 12 hour boat tomorrow to the border of Thailand have learned their lesson: Don't book anything in advance.

Karolina and I bought one of the most impressive and large mosquito nets in a market in Luang Prabang, and we build our fort utilizing a base of life jackets as a mattress and a rain coat as sheets. Luxury living at its finest. Dinner is served in the rear of the boat and it is simple but romantic, with the splash of driftwood hitting the boat and candles illuminating the storied wood of the boat's ceiling. Light conversation ensues with our fellow stranded passengers: a 5 minute conversation with the im-going-to-be-rude-to-you-since-your-American girl from Germany, another 2 minute conversation in Vietnamese about the rain in Hanoi, and a hint that the sticky rice has other things in it from Karolina's mouth. The sleep is rough. Driftwood hitting the boat sounds like animals attacking the tarps surrounding the boat and we end up laughing about which animals these are: anacondas? elephants? tigers? pirates? We wake up to a roaring start of an engine just past dawn and head gracefully on our way to switch boats and in a few short 12 hours hit the border of Thailand...

teepee

Aun, my buddist friend.

Buddhism is a fascinating way of life. I have a surface level concept of what the religion is and I really like seeing it in devout practice in Laos and Thailand. Upon visiting a beautiful wat in central Luang Prabang (wat = temple) Karolina and I met a very, very nice, well spoken 20 year old novice named Aun. Aun explained the details of my questions about buddhism, Laos, about being a monk and a novice (many buddist laoian males spend months to years as a novice after high school to decide if they wish to become a monk and to improve their buddist practice). His english was perfect, as he talked with inquisitive foriegners like myself and had a book he studied 2 hours a day, everyday. He invited us to stay for the evening prayer/chant and to come ask him and hang out with him anytime. He really expressed the peaceful, mindfullness and calm of buddhism. He is my buddy. Hopefully he will continue with his practice, if not, he wishes to go into IT. (what? yeah, weird, especially weird when you see monks in computer stores). whoa - video! tp

Arrival in Luang Prabang

Laos airlines will never make it into the top 10 airlines of the world. Actually I wouldn't even call it an airline. Its more of a bus company that had to save up a few years to buy a few propeller airplanes and stick some stickers on the side. Turbulence that wouldn't phase a normal aircraft creates mindful death gasps when the tin can drops 30 feet 10 seconds before landing in the dark. Im on the ground now, and the airplane I am running from becomes the least of my worries as I remember I have have the equivalent of $20 USD in Vietnamese dong and a visa at the airport costs $35 USD in Lao Kip or USD. I stand in line hoping my charm will miraciously change my currency and put a smile on the face of the immigration officer a few steps in front of me. This doesnt happen. Everyone seems tired (its 7pm) from a long day of work and the clap of each light cluster is drawing nearer as the airport is closing. Laos doesnt look good. With me next in line to the disgruntled immigration man, I decide to drop my pride and start asking the few other foriengers for a loan of $35 USD until I reach an ATM. A weary but kind Canadian couple step up to the plate to save my ass, and I learn a lesson in carrying cash when entering little countries. A little tuk tuk takes me into the calm, warm village of Luang Prabang from the airport and right into the center where I easily find Karolina, my Swedish travelmate, enjoying a crepe (a relic hand and hand with the bagette left over from the colonial french) and chatting with a Hong Kong friend met on the tuk tuk into town. She makes me jealous with her stories of Vietnam Airlines jet powered planes and claims of Laos Airlines sub par safety record. We all sigh from leaving the hectic life of Vietnam and Hong Kong and melt into the buddist calm that sits over the city like a dimly lit haze. We are instantly in love with this village. Ohhhh ... Luang Prabang. The next few days pass quickly and slowly at the same time, while Karolina and I take our time relishing in coffee, dining with the sunsets on the Mekong, visiting charming buddist temples, watching the world smile after Obama is elected to office (and my tears of joy and pride at the acceptence speech), bicycle riding to markets, and shopping that requires more of waking up the shop owner to buy something, than young men hoaking worthless items at you (vietnam). We get nothing done. We love ever minute of it.

Ok, I think my USB cord for my camera is shot, as it shocks me when ever I plug it into any computer, so the pictures will have to wait until I think of a workaround... (pictures below are from a friend, not mine)

Meanwhile, Hanoi happens to be experiencing some of the worst late monsoon season rains ever...

Yesterday I woke up early to go to the Ho Chi Minh Masouleum, only to find it was closed for the annual re-enbalming of Uncle Ho. Basically its Uncle H himself, despite his wished to be cremated, on display with 30 years of post morteum for the masses. Damn, too bad I missed it.

I settled on the near 1,000 year old Temple of Literature which was a stunningly beautiful old university grounds with massive displays of chinese architecture. But I had to get there first...My motobike taxi driver insisted on haggling me for 20 minutes over 5,000 dong ($0.20 USD) less than what he was asking for. I havent paid over 10,000 vnd for a ride to anywhere in the city yet, and I know I can just walk away from anyone trying to extort me, because 10,000 is already a significant tourist price. We get on our way in the pouring rain when we are suprised by several roads leading to the grounds in 3 feet of water. Sick of checking every road for more and more flooding (and already drenched) I tell him to drop me off and point me in the right direction. I take the plunge, pray that all my open wounds on my legs are significantly healed and head knee deep into the water. It takes a while to keep on the narrow sidewalk and I am the only westerner, only person in the water at some points so I take it slow. I pass a motorcycle repair man who I stop, smoke a tobacco pipe with and laugh at the cars and motobikes trying to cross chest deep water at full speed. Most fail, but some make it. It is two dudes smokin on a pipe, laughing at the car owning class, I feel blue collar and I like it.

Empathy sets in and I leave my post with tobacco motobike man and help a few youngins push a Ford SUV out of the water to the dry part of the street. The locals laugh at the white boy but they appreciate the help. The owner hops out of the car, clearly late for something and I pantomime that it would be a good idea to get the car out of the middle of the road. Driver agrees and opens the back door to reveil 5 passengers in the back which causes me to ask "Why the hell didnt you get them out when we were pushing?" and I know my question is repeated in Vietnamese by the surrounding locals. Driver gives the locals and I cash for the help, locals run off and invite me for Bia Hoi (local beer) but I decline when the taste of watered-down crappy homebrew is remembered in my mouth. That and its 10 a.m. Driver looks sad so I use the best of my extremely limited car knowledge and open the hood, dry and shake the air filter and tell him to wait till things are dry. Driver assumes I am a Ford mechanic and asks many questions in Vietnamese while I laugh, telling him in English that I don't own a car and if you saw the last one I did own, you wouldn't let me near your car within a 30 foot radius. I do my best, grandpa in the backseat thanks me and I am on my way. Nothing like chillin with the locals.

I walk in the rain for hours, checking out the sights - as it is much better than being stuck in my lonely hotel room. I count minutes until Ricky gets back or my swedish friend's flight gets in. I am bored and expecting more out of Halloween night than this - even in Hanoi. Finally my Swedish friend arrives but we go downstairs only to find that we are locked into the hotel. What happens when there is a fire?

So I am here, waiting and raining for that flight to Laos, in just a few hours...

Taylor

Rain and Rooster Testicles.

(trouble with uploading pictures and video... they will come later - be patient!) If the title didn't catch your interest enough, then you should stop reading now. I am in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam enjoying an overcast day WITHOUT rain for the first time in a week or so. We had our fill of shopping in Hoi An, spent way too much and walked away with 14 lbs of gifts each to send back to the states. We had a brief stop in Hue during a 5 hour bus layover which consisted of me running back and forth between ticket agents trying to get a real ticket to Luang Prabang, Laos, my next stop after Hanoi. I finally got the sketchist ticket I have ever been suckered into (a piece of paper with a flight time and date on it, my name, and a official "paid" stamp, all in sloppy writing) and instructions to go to Hanoi to get the real ticket printed out at a "friend's" office. I am not usually caught by this kind of funny business, but the woman was very comforting and worked for a travel agency that we have been very pleased with. So I swallowed my fear, put a little trust in someone else and handed over 3,000,000 dong, expecting it to hurt later. Rain in Hue (oh a video!): Upon arrival to Hanoi, we found our $4 a night palace and I found the "friend's" ticket office, where I was promptly printed a real airline ticket (looks official, we will see), to my great relief. Again, sometimes you have to look someone in the eye and use your gut, not your mind to see if they are telling the truth - especially in less developed countries where you are at everyone's whim. There is a lack of this trust, most true in the states and I encourage everyone to have a little faith sometime in your fellow man and just go with it.... enough of the tirade - I am sure you want to know about the rooster balls. It took a few beers for strength. Ricky and I sat 5 stories up and drank Tiger and Hanoi beer until the tab got expensive ($3, ouch). In a easier mindset we started the search for Bao Khanh street, famous for its pigeon, frog, weird chicken pieces, deer, and yep, rooster testicles. It didnt take long to find, but we were a bit perplexed by the absence of anyone in the restaurant of our choosing. Unphased, buzzed and hungry, we marched up the stairs to find the best seat in the house, only to find guards, suitcases and seemly unwanted faces staring at us. With no words exchanged with the vietnamese mafia we took our seats at the second floor balcony and flipped through the menu. The verdict was reached in a few seconds, tofu with tomato, tofu in chili sauce and a shared portion of frogs legs and "Cock Testicles" (as said on the menu). Yummy. The tofu was not appealing, but we were more set on savoring those famed balls. We both took first bite and while the waiter was laughing at us, we were delighted to find that male chicken balls are not half bad. The garlic helps dwarf the pretty large size of the testicles, and the fried batter helps frog leg go down smooth. Beer helps as well. So next time you in Vietnam, try the cock balls. Taylor

Jungle Beach and all its pleasure

I rented a motorcycle for $3 a day and road happily out of the tourist trap of Nha Trang to the glorious beaches that awaited me 60 kms away. Ricky decided to stay with our hosts and get a cheap Open Water then Advanced SCUBA certification, which was pretty cool - but I just had to get away. Jungle Beach was my destination, a small resort about 10 years old started by a Canadian ex-pat who renounced "the -10 degree Celsius winters of Northern Canada about twenty years ago" and stumbled upon a sleepy fishing village twelve years ago accessible only by boat. The beautiful drive circumventing the mountains lining the coast on a newly paved road which was doubling as a Vietnamese movie set the day I was cruising it on moto (I found this out by being yelled at by Vietnamese police to slow down when I was hitting 85 km 10 feet away from the movie set). The picturesque view if this new, nice road reminded me of the better parts of the Pacific Coast Highway, but with the twist only Vietnam can bring. Fishing boats dot the shoreline, achored but waiting for the early morning to cash in on the sea's crop. An abandoned Russian beach complex, now deluxe squatter city, held the one of the best beaches I past and a romantic view from the road with limestone and green filled islands finishing up the horizon of the deep blue sea. I felt freshly alone and eager to get to a place like this, and the feeling was only intensified by a big road only shared by a movie crew and a teenage lovers cuddling on their motorbike, reveling in the view. One of the best things about Vietnam is once your out of a tourist town - you are OUT. Villages make up the rest of the country and it helps bring a charm like nothing else. After a blissful ride on My New Favorite Road, the adversity that is required to get anywhere worth it struck. Its name is Highway 1 and we met and faught again for 30 kms, just as I had done in days past while riding through the central highlands via motorbike. This hell highway takes no mercy with trucks barreling at you on both sides of the roads, cutthroat tour buses that show a near disdain for human life, leaving us, the proletariat class of the road, just trying to get to work, school, or private beaches (in my case) trembling in fear on our measly 125cc motorcycles and bicycles. I clinched to the side of the road, singing happy Minus the Bear rock songs to keep my focus and prayed that I would see the Hyundai port sign soon. After some self doubt and an excruciating 40 km, Hyundai-Vinashin road welcomed me off the highway and on to a rice paddy lined street, quiet and calm, light years away from Dante's worst nightmare. A twist and turn, a dirt road, a aforementioned sleepy fishing village (still sleeping at dusk) and I had arrived at the bamboo gated "Jungle Beach". Workers greeted me with a open gate, fresh lemon water, and the owner showed me a brisk walking tour he could do in his sleep from memory. The setting matched the movie - The Beach, but with a more realistic appeal. I set my things down, noted the hour I had before dinner and went directly to the beach. This beach was our beach, home to the 25 occupancy Jungle Beach guests with nothing but warm sand in a few kilometers in both directions. The beach was like a bay, but with out the funny smelling water Mui Ne had and twice the amount of untouched sand. The familiar limestone/plant mix of islands were directly off the coast, which swept with lush, lush mini mountains that created our cove reserved only for us. I ran full sprint into the water, crashed over a small wave and fell backwards, arms wide open looking to embrace the multi colored sky and the perfect temperature in the water. Bliss like this doesn't come like this every day. I swam, did some evening yoga, went for a run and then just sat and watched a mountain of a cloud billow up catching the last of sun's rays of purple, blue, orange, yellow and pink. I had made it. Made it to my spot that I hoped and hoped and hoped that Vietnam would deliver, and it was here in that moment that I laughed from deep in my heart at how ridiculously beautiful this place is. I headed back to the compound thinking about how relaxing this would be and how I could get back into good shape with the absence of alcohol, peaceful running everyday, a little adventuring to see the monkeys in the jungle and a yoga practice morning and evening. Then I met Beth. and Justin. and Meegan from NZ. And three wild canadians. and the couple from Australia. and the couple from Hong Kong. Plans changed after that. Dinner was excellent, as was most of the 3 meals a day included which were always on one long friendly community table at designated times a day. This table introduced me to my good friends who I would spent most of my hangovers with and go on several excursions with. After some light talk, drinking games commenced with the Canadians, Beth, Justin and Meegan and by 11:30 p.m. Justin and I were fighting to stay away and stupured back to our huts, more than ready to leave the party behind. We got into a rhythm- all of us - strong coffee and plans made in the morning (11am), lunch at noon (which we were usually still at the table from breakfast), adventures - waterfalls, beach lounging, swimming, a mock wedding (created after an argument whether a couple can or cannot get hitched at sea by a captain) where I was the captain/priest. The evening was filled with hours at the dinner table meeting new travelers like the Swedish doctors who joined the crew then drinks, games and the inevitable trip to the bonfire on the beach and night swim. OH! the night swim!!!! Our piece of the ocean was so undisturbed that every night we went to the ocean and watched as our arms and legs were coated with the brilliant luminescent light of tiny organisms in the water. Mix that with a night sky full of stars and clouds and you truly are in paradise. My friends and I didnt want to leave and I only made one trip back to Nha Trang to get a massage and more money from the ATM. It was one of the best two planned, but four nights stayed I had ever head and I am stoked to be travelling with one of my Swedish doctor friends in Lao in a week. Memories from those wild nights and silly days were awesome, awesome, awesome and the stories would take up too much of this web page to relay... So I road away, changed and more relaxed than when I came in, from my Jungle Beach leaving a little sadness in my bungalow home. Jungle Beach won't be this way forever, as the evil spectre of development is slowly creeping in with the contruction of a road around the coastline and a new, but vacant ritzy beach resort just a few hundred meters away from JB. For now and in my dreams forever, I will have this place - like that place I loved in Hawaii at the end of the Kaulalau Trail, when ever I need it in my mind. I raced back in the rain to Nha Trang, ate some chips and green tea, met Ricky who wondered where the hell I was, packed up and ran after the bus to Hoi An we were late for. An impressive display of a sprint (that I secretly wish I didn't perform, as I wanted to go back to Jungle Beach) saved us from another day in paradise (ricky made some great friends in his diving expeditions over the previous days while I was at JB). We boarded the bus with little boy sad faces and laid down with the assistance of prescription sleeping pills and arrived very shaken in Hoi An this morning. We will play shop til' you drop in this tailors' paradise and get some new digs to ship back then head to Ha Noi. The adventures will continue, but damn, Jungle Beach is going to be hard to top. I can't update pictures at this computer, but your imagination should try to get a little work out... hope my words can relay... HappyinHoiAn, Taylor