Weekend Away in Kampot

It's only a couple of days into being at the the orphanage, but usually the volunteers take the weekend to explore the rest of the country. By the end of the week most people are ready to get away for a weekend. The orphanage decides to have a dance party one night so somebody rolls in a couple of huge speakers and the kids dance like crazy to songs like Boom Boom Pow by The Black Eyed Peas. They all dance in unison and seem to know the moves and have a bit of choreography to this song. The little ones try desperately to copy the older kids. It's so adorable watching the kids dance without inhibitions.
One of the volunteers, named Ali, asks me if I would like to go with her for the weekend to a couple of towns a few hours away. She wants to check out Kampot, Kep, and Sihnukville. I'm definitely interested in going with her because she says she plans to hang out on the beach and relax in Sihnukville even though some lady at the table advises us against it. We invite Laura, one of the new volunteers who seems really sweet. The three of us leave on Friday for our first stop, Kampot. We take a bumpy bus ride about three hours to Sihnukville. When we arive we are instantly bombarded with people trying to give us a ride to our guesthouse. We don't know where we're staying yet, so we just say No NO No as we're walking through the crowd of desperate tuk-tuk drivers. We stumble upon a hotel/guesthouse called The Magic Sponge. We unanimously decide to stay here. We absolutely adore the manager who is Irish and about sixty-years-old. He sits us down while we wait for our room to be ready, and serves us wonderful food and milkshakes. We check into our room and set out exploring. The town is very cute and has a river running through it. We meet a friendly tuk-tuk driver who we politely dismiss since we just want to walk around instead of being driven. He shows us his book of recommendations that his former customers have written in.
That evening when I'm napping, Ali and Laura meet Gary, the manager's son. He works the bar in the evenings. They come in and tell me that he's really cute and has a really sexy Irish accent. I meet him later and am equally impressed. His eyes are dark pools of brown and his accent could melt a girl made of stone. He has a confidence to him that drives us all mad. He's funny, loves music, and has dreads that he's been growing since he was thirteen. He's now 24. We have a mini romance later on in the weekend. The girls and I sit around drinking banana and chocolate milkshakes with Gary and I decide we need a shot of Bailey's in them. Gary tells us he'll put them on the menu and we get to think up a name. We settle on The Bad Monkey.
That night we decide to look for a kayak tour on the river. The guy tells us it will cost $25 for the day. We tell him it's a ripoff and suddenly the tuk-tuk driver from earlier makes an appearance. He gives us a good rate on transport to the kayak place so we decide we'll just rent kayaks and go out on our own. We tell him we'll meet him in the morning at our hotel.

The next day he's there just as we finish our breakfast. He takes us to the guesthouse on the water called The Mango Tree. We are taken by boat (like the ones pictured) down the river with our kayaks trailing behind. He drops us off and leaves us to our own devices. They recommend a little tour around an island before heading back upstream to The Mango Tree. We enter the part of the river that surrounds the island and instantly feel like we're in a Vietnam War movie. The palm trees are so thick that we can barely see the few houses buried among them. We decide to explore a pocket of the river that is completely shaded by the palms. It feels like a crocodile will jump out at any second. As we continue to paddle in silence, we hear a prayer being sung in the distance. We pass next to people bathing in the warm water, as their children shout "Hello!" to us. Once we make it back to the main river we decide to take a little rest before heading against the current. The weather is looking a bit ominous so we get a move on. About thirty minutes away from The Mango Tree the wind picks up and the sky begins to pelt us with rain. It's an upstream battle to the finish and we're mighty happy to be back. We eat a really nice meal on the water before heading back to The Magic Sponge and flirting with Gary all evening.
The following morning we have lined up our tuk-tuk driver to take us to see some sights. We set off at nine o'clock and he drives us all over the place. We see the salt and pepper fields, the caves, and go to the beach in a town called Kep. Everywhere we go people yell "Hello!" to us and wave as we pass. My favorite thing about Cambodia has to be watching what these people can pile on to a motorbike. We see dead animals swinging off the back, babies being carried by their parents, entire families, and bales of hay piled high with people sitting on top of the load. By mid-afternoon we are exhausted and just want to go back to the hotel for a good meal and a rest.
That night Laura and I stay up all night listening to loud music at the bar with Gary and a thirty-five-year-old English couple just talking, laughing, and drinking the night away. Gary makes us free drinks until 7 o'clock in the morning. A couple of hours later we catch the bus back to our village of Takeo.

Hello Cambo

I'm strapped into my huge backpack and heading off again. I love the feeling of having everything on my back. It's the ultimate freedom. I make my way to the airport in Kuala Lumpur. The flight is an hour and fifty minutes. As we descend into Phnom Penh I catch my first glimpse of the country. I see water fields and only small buildings. I film the landing. The airport is small and it costs 25 US Dollars to enter the country. Cambodia operates in two currencies; US Dollars and Reel. It's 4,000 Reel to one US Dollar. What's confusing is paying in one currency, and getting change back in the other. At least I'm familiar with the dollar.
I am picked up by a guy at the airport. It's so nice to not have to make my own way. They guy is a young good-looking Cambodian who is the brother of a girl who works at the orphanage. He is in the passenger seat, and a driver who doesn't speak any English is taking us to the orphanage. We get to the dirt road and the driver honks the horn at everything. We pass tiny dilapidated homes, stray dogs, white cows pulling half-clothed men on rickety carts, mopeds with four people crowded on them. The entire time my mouth is wide open and I have a huge smile on my face. I can't believe what I'm seeing. This is amazing. I can already tell I love Cambodia and I'm so ready to start my adventure here. I know I should be nervous to meet all of these new people, and step into a new situation in a new country, but I have no apprehension whatsoever. The good looking guy gives me a brief lesson in Khmer.
When I arrive at the main guest house I meet Nevil, the owner and his seven-year-old African daughter named Princess who I later find out is fluent in her native language, British English, as well as the Cambodian language, Khmer. Princess is a beautiful dark mahogany with an English accent and seven going on seventeen. Let's just say her name suits her perfectly. Nevil has a girl take me to the guest house I will be staying in. It's more like a basic hotel with two big beds and my own bathroom. Heaven! It's a two minute walk up the dirt road from the main guest house where we will eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Two hours later Princess brings me to the orphanage about ten minutes up another dirt road from where I'm staying. As I walk through the gate, I'm greeted by the most open group of children I've ever met. About ten of them approach me and shake my hand. They ask me my name and where I'm from. We all end up in a big game that is a lot like Duck Duck Goose, only a bit more brutal. Everyone squats in a circle in the sand. We all clap our hands and sing the same little jingle over and over. It sounds like "Laya ku sai a la kum song, OH LONG! OH LONG!"The person who is IT carries a wound up rag around the circle as he chooses who he will place it behind. When he finally drops it behind his chosen victim, the victim has to stand up and run around the circle away from the person who was crouching next to him because the kid who was next to him is chasing and mercilessly beating him with the rag until he gets back to his original spot. I'm chosen to beat the littlest boy at one point, but let him get away without a single hit. We call him T and I later find out that he's been beaten enough in his lifetime, and he's only six.
The orphanage has about 52 children ages six to eighteen. Some of them have parents who can't afford to keep them, and some have deceased parents, or parents who ran out on them. Some have been dropped at the front gate, and some have been brought by child protective services. A few kids have marks from being beaten and one even has cigarette burns on her arms. Though many of them have a grim past, they all seem to flourish and are often the envy of the children of the village. We've even had a child ask us if he can be an orphan.
The kids get movie nights, arts and crafts, constant English stimulation, and nobody ever says no to them. They have fifty other brothers and sisters who are always there for them so they are one big family. There is a section of the orphanage that is divided into multiple rooms. The wood shop, the beauty room, and the sewing and crafts room. The classroom has a room with a wall full of books for them to read. Their bedtime is at ten o'clock when they all roll out mats and sleep on the floor. At first I'm put of by this, but later realize that the Cambodians rarely sit or sleep the way we do. They often sleep on floors or in hammocks and sit on low plastic stools, or just crouch.
A couple of days of being at the orphanage, a boy asks me if he can read to me. I'm so excited to help him with his English reading and pronunciation. He does a very good job, and I'm extremely impressed. There are a lot of sounds that are in the English language that are not in the Khmer language so I have to teach them how to place their tongue and lips as they try to articulate sounds. The "x" as in next, is very difficult. Also the sounds "F" "V" and "SH"never come easy. I have them pronounce all of the words until they get them right. It's very tedious, but extremely rewarding. When they've had a good lesson I give them a couple pieces of candy. I'm stunned by their ability to delay gratification since it takes a long time to learn a language. I've been told that when asked why they want to learn English, they will tell you that it's the only way to lift themselves out of poverty.
At the end of the night all of the volunteers leave for dinner as the kids wave us off in huge groups yelling "GOODBYE! SEE YOU TOMORROW! SWEET DREAMS!!!" By dinner we are all starved because it's been hours since our 12:00 lunch. We sit at the long table and talk about our travels, about our adventures at the orphanage that day, or our weekend plans.

Malaysia

I have a necklace that I buy one charm from each country for. Today I set out to find a charm. It's hot and I'm searching through Little India for the right charm. I see a little rat charm that looks about right for my Malaysia experience, but I pass it up because it looks like it's been made out of tin foil. It's hot and I'm in a nasty mood. I turn around and head back to the hostel about an hour after setting out.
That night we all meet up to celebrate Nick's birthday. We have a pretty low key night and watch Germany beat Uruguay. One thing that that has been really fun is watching different countries face off abroad. I always know who is playing that night because I see fans dressed with their faces painted in their country colors.
It's my last day in Malaysia and I want to spend it in the park reading a book. I hope I can do that without interruption. The hostel owner takes me to the Patronas Twin Towers for some pictures of my gnome. While I'm taking photos of it in front of the building, an Indian guy tries to invite me to come along with him. I politely decline and tell him I have a guy waiting for me. Good, because I have no interest in hanging out with this man whatsoever. What is it about western girls that make these men into woman-hunters? It's getting quite annoying at this point because sometimes I just want to be alone and not make small talk.
The hostel owner drops me off at the park behind the towers and I sit down with my book. I can see an African guy hanging around enjoying the scenery and I get the feeling he's interested in some small talk himself. I try to glue my eyes to my book. Oh no I need something in my purse. I lift my eyes for a few seconds to grab my bag, and the guy seizes the opportunity. DAMN! He starts in on the small talk and says he wants to buy me a refreshment from a shop in the distance. I tell him I don't want to go and that I would rather read. He says he'll be back with something. We spend an hour or two together. He is very narrow-minded, judgmental, and set in his ways. Hugely devastating for somebody who claims he loves travel and is also very young. I break free from him at the train station and tell him I have to go have dinner with some friends.
That night we watch the final game of the world cup. I think I'm ready to leave Malaysia. I've loved the friends I've made at the hostel, but the city has not been my favorite. On to Cambodia!!

My Malaysia

Looking for my hostel in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia is not working out. The owner neglected to mention that I was supposed to take a right turn in order to get there. I've asked tons of people if they recognize the address. They all point me in different directions trying to be helpful. I stop at a motorcycle shop where a bunch of guys are fixing up their bikes. They point me in another direction. I make my way toward where they say it is. As I'm walking there one guy shows up on his motorbike and tells me to hop on. I'm so grateful and hop on with my 64 liter backpack and all. I arrive to a small hostel that is tucked in among a bunch of abandoned property and some seriously shanty-like apartments. Oh god. When I go inside it's not so bad. That night I pass out to the sounds of heavy rats thudding, squeaking and scratching in the walls next to my bunk as they bed down for the night. I awake at 2:00am to a swollen eye and a fat lower lip. I've been attacked by mosquitoes and bitten inside my mouth. I guess you get what you pay for, and at $8 per night I can't complain.

The next day I go to the iconic Kuala Lumpur Twin Towers. I shop the day away inside of them and go to the aquarium where I meet a guy from Iran. We go through the aquarium together and spend some time afterward. When we part ways I am walking through the food court when two guys ask me if I want to try a piece of their cake. My knee-jerk reaction is to decline, but it looks so good and I'm feeling social. I sit down with the two of them. They're brothers and both here from Armenia. We have a chat and then all part ways. One of the guys gives me his phone number and says I should call him if I'm bored and want him to show me around one day.

That night when I arrive back at the hostel I'm invited out by Nick. He is the young brother of the owner of the hostel. He is going out to meet his Jamaican friend and an Australian guy. I agree to go out with them and we have a fun night dancing to Reggae music, watching a Malaysian band perform crazy music, and all getting to know one another. The Ozzie guy is a cute blond dentist and the Jamaican guy was born in Jamaica and raised in Ohio. He's here doing business. At the end of the night Nick takes me to a place where they serve Malaysian food from 1am to about 4am. He shows me the ropes and tells me what is good. So far I'm really liking Southeast Asian food.

On my second day in KL (as the locals call it) Nick and I go to the Batu Caves. We climb the 272 stairs to the cave. We pass wild monkeys and bats wiz over our heads. The cave is huge and beautiful. It is owned by the Hindus and they even have a ceremony going on with music and drums echoing through the cave. Nick and I carefully descend the 272 steps and go grab a take away meal at one of his favorite places. It's an empty open restaurant with a tiny food bar that the flies seem to be owning, but we scare them away and serve ourselves some chicken, rice and bamboo. Nick wants to take me to the small waterfall in the mountain. We arrive there as it is starting to drizzle. The area is lush and thick with green trees. We sit down on a covered wooden platform as the rain starts to become a thunder and lightening storm with torrential downpour. It's amazing and the river starts to flow really hard. The Malay people often don't use any kind of chopsticks or forks, so I am forced to use my hands. I watch as nick neatly eats with his incredibly dexterous right hand. He picks his chicken apart with just one hand, and tries to teach me how to gather rice into a ball and put it straight into my mouth without tilting my head back. By the end of this meal I've made an absolute mess and he has a clean surrounding area. He tells me the Jamaican guy is just as messy as I am.

That day I head back to the twin towers for some shopping because we plan to go out with the Jamaican and Australian again. I'm on the monorail and I meet a local 30-year-old Malaysian guy who wants to know where I'm from. The second he learns I'm from California he tells me he was a student in LA and is trying to move back and become a citizen. He asks if he can walk with me to the mall and oblige. That's when he breaks out the proposals. He wants me to marry him into the country. Oh God, I've been down this road before and decided I would never try it. I once had an Australian guy offer to pay to marry me for citizenship. After giving it a good thought I decided I would never do it. Ever. The Malaysian guy follows me through the city trying to convince me I should do it and I tell him that I can promise him I would never change my mind no matter what his offer. I'm being so direct with him. He's a babbling idiot. He won't stop and I haven't said anything for fifteen minutes. I'm just looking for the mall ignoring him and pretty much acting as if I'm alone. He rambles under his breath the entire time throwing out numbers and figures he would be making in California. He asks me for my email address. I refuse to give him my address and tell him I don't want junk mail. This is comical. Finally I reach the mall and he says since he's here he might as well go in with me. I firmly inform him that he will not accompany me on my shopping adventure. I say it's fine for him to be in the mall, but we won't be in the mall together and he has to go a separate way. He has no choice but to give up.

I rush around Top Shop looking for an outfit. When I get back to the hostel I get dolled up to go out with the boys. We make it down to the party street and it's so busy. There's a big nightlife here in Kuala Lumpur. Nick and I meet up with Philip, the Jamaican that the Malay people tend to call Phillips, and James the Australian dentist. We dance the night away and sweat until we're soaked. Nick's friend drives me and Nick back to the hostel. It's been really fun partying with people from around the world. Especially the locals!

Bali Indonesia

In the van on the way to the airport I meet a french girl who is also headed to Bali. She's not sure where she's going to stay when she gets there. I tell her she should at least stay with me the first night in my hotel until she decides what to do. Perfect, my hotel is $35 per night and it would be great to split that. I'm also a bit nervous heading to Southeast Asia alone so it will be nice to have somebody to face it with. We both agree it sounds like a plan. We go check in together, go through security, and have a snack. We board the plane separately but just before we part I tell her I'll meet her on the other side. When I get of the plane, I go through the usual customs, immigration, and baggage claim. I wait for her outside but can't find her. I decide I'll give it about thirty minutes. Nothing. I guess I'll have to brave it alone. Taxi drivers are everywhere trying to get me to use their service. This makes me nervous because I usually find my way by train instead of getting in a car with a stranger. I have no choice here. My driver takes me to my hotel for about seven dollars.

I'm in heaven with a king size bed, my own bathroom, and TV! I awake the next morning refreshed and ready to see Bali. I head to the town of Kuta about fifteen minutes by cab. I love it here. There are Australian tourists everywhere so I don't feel out of place one bit. All down the streets people are trying to sell me souvenirs from their shacks. The first thing they often yell is "Yes!" followed by, "Hello!" For the next couple of days I am a bit annoyed because they constantly yell after me "Where are you going?" Why are they asking this? I later read that it is just an attempt at making contact and it doesn't require a real answer. After a couple of days I am used to it. I had this same issue back in May when I reached China. One day I just wanted to yell "OKAY, I'M WHITE! I GET IT! CAN WE MOVE ON NOW? STOP LOOKING AT ME!!! " And the next day the urge to freak out was gone.

Back to Kuta....

I'm loving this town. Every day each person gives an offering in a square grass basket. It has flowers, crackers and sometimes money. They place them in piles in the streets to be beaten to a pulp by cars and motorcycles. Some dip them in the ocean to be washed away by the waves. They burn incense and place their hands together in prayer.

I make my way to the beach where tons of Australians are on vacation frying themselves. That night I go to a festival that the girl at the front desk of my hotel has told me about. There's an ad in the paper about it, so I figure it will be widely publicized. When I arrive, I am one of about ten white people at this festival. I stick out like a sore thumb. One lady who has a tiny food stand at the festival tells me to sample the meat she is cooking. I do, and she and her friend tell me it's dog. I continue to eat it because it's pretty good. All the while I keep asking "Is this relly dog?" They say "YES!" with huge smiles. "You mean, WOOF WOOF?!" "YES!" I go for the chicken as my official meal, and as I'm leaving their other friend asks me a question. I tell him I just ate dog, and he informs me that it wasn't dog, it was chicken. Both of the women look at each other and laugh. They look at me and all four of us have a good laugh. I thank them and move on to the performance competition down the way. The theatre is a huge outdoor theatre packed with about 1,500 people. The bands walk out in traditional Balinese clothing of orange red, white, green and gold. They begin chiming and clanking on their symbols as the dancers enter up stage. For the next hour I watch as the dancers perform. They dance with their hips thrust to one side stepping on to flexed feet. Their hands curve backward and their eyes are turned toward the starry sky. The audience loves it, and all react and cheer in unison at what I think are random times, but they all seem to have an understanding of the material and know when it's getting intense and when it is funny. This is truly an experience.

Over the next few days I spend time in Kuta town and tanning on the Kuta beach. I play in the warm water and body surf until I'm beaten to a pulp by the waves.

I've loved my vacation away from vacation in Bali Indonesia, but it's time to head to Malaysia.

Cairns (Pronounced Cans) and the Great Barrier Reef

I'm in Cairns until it's time to leave for Bali Indonesia. I have time to kill and it's a little city/town built on the beach. But it has no beach. Just mud. It actually looks quite a lot like BP is drilling oil near by. I've heard the Great Barrier Reef is a must, so I make a reservation with a company that will take me out there. I board the huge ferry and head out to Green Island. I've decided to do the glass bottom boat and go snorkel after.

The glass bottom boat is really neat. It's a cloudy windy day, so we don't see everything to it's fullest, but the fish are huge and colorful. We see fire coral, a giant clam, and even a female shark called Walter. Everything looks so neat from the boat. The boat driver says I have to go snorkel and that I have no choice.

When he drops us back off at the beach I lay out on the sand for a while trying to catch some rays through the clouds. In a fit of ambition I stand up and decide it's time to take the dreaded snorkel equipment out for a look around. I squeeze my mask on, bite down on the mouthpiece of my snorkel, jam my feet into my flippers and head off into the water walking backwards. Wooh water's a bit cold. I slowly get used to it and finally get my face into the water. I'm in the shallow part that extends about 50 meters into the ocean. Breathing erratically out of both nerves, and just being cold, I peer around looking for any form of life and dreading seeing anything really. I know I'm nervous about this, but didn't realize that I'm actually terrified of sea life. I see something OHMYGOD! I scream through my tube and stand up. I'm horrified. A lady who doesn't speak english calls me over to look at something. I reluctantly dip my face in the water to see some kind of little sting ray. I smile but I'm absolutely distraught. Okay, it's time to head for deeper water. I think I can I think I can. I make my way over to where the ocean floor drops down to be about 6 meters deep. I stare into the abyss and contemplate my fate. I stand up. It's cold. You can do this Madissen! I crouch back down into the cold water. I stand back up. I don't know what's colder, the air or the water. I continue with this charade until I'm in tears. I hate sea life. Finally I decide I'm on a World Tour where I pretty much don't have to do anything I don't want to. Why would I subject myself to such torture? Fuck it, I'm outta here.