Kids

I could probably write an entire blog just on the random things that go on at work and the random people I meet.  Here's an example.

Last night I was serving a party of 7.  It was a 23rd birthday, family dinner.  Near the end of their evening I overheard two adults talking about something "that bites".  The youngest at the table was probably about 8, and very authoritatively he explained that -whatever it was- "hasn't bitten anyone in 7 years!!!"  A little skeptical, the adults asked him how he knew such facts and the boy explained that he heard it on the news.  Curious, the adults asked the boy which news station he got his facts from.  Very proudly and with wisdom beyond his years he replied, "Dr. Oz" (DUH!).

Nice People

Before we left Hong Kong, a well traveled friend explained to me that the kindness of the locals we met while traveling is different than the infamous kindness of Canadians.  She says that the kindness you encounter in Asia is largely due to the fact that everyone is selling something.  Whether it's street food, trinkets, advertising for their restaurant or some sort of tour, just about everyone in Asia is nice to you because they want something from you.  Canadians will apparently be nice to you for no reason whatsoever.

Today I was in line at the grocery store.  Standing in line at the "less than 12 items" check out, an old man took his place behind me.  Not a minute had gone by before he started chatting me up, telling me about the convenience of tv dinners, which he only eats when he doesn't feel like cooking... which isn't often because he loves to cook.  He's never cooked a roast before because it's just him and a roast is a lot of food for one person, but the next time there's a sale he's going to buy a roast and then portion and freeze the leftovers for sandwiches.  He'll keep the frozen meet, along with his tv dinners in the freezer under the stairs... He's made friends with some of the women working at Superstore, because he's a regular shopper and sometimes they stop him to say hello because they recognize him because he's a regular shopper.... It's such a beautiful day today....

He continued this type of kind and random banter with myself, everyone else in line, and the lady working the till... for no apparent reason but to be friendly and kind.

The Final Moments

It's that time.  The time that we have been both looking forward to and dreading.  It is time to go home.  Our bags are packed and waiting in the corner, and tomorrow morning, we will take one more taxi, one more ride on the MTR, and we'll check in for one more flight (okay, so we'll have to transfer and check-in in Beijing as well, but you get the picture).

Everyone we know (including ourselves) says that traveling changes your life.  Darren says (from his experience in Europe) that there comes a moment right before you get home, where you reflect on everything you've done and contemplate all that you've learned and how you've changed.  He also says that I haven't had this moment yet because I've been too busy prematurely thinking about wedding stuff (which is true of course).  However, as these last days have approached I've thought about a lot of things.  I've thought about the wedding of course, about my favourite experiences, about surviving Darren for six months, and a whole slew of other things.

For example:
I've learned that you can pretty much fit anything on a motorcycle.  You've got household furniture that needs to be transported?  No problem, strap it to a bike.  What about a few oil drums?  Done!  You've got a couple full grown, live pigs that need to get across the city?  Easy!  Maybe you're thinking the motorcycle isn't a practical family vehicle.  Well, you'd be wrong.  You can easily fit mom, dad, auntie, and two or three kids onto a bike, no problem.  Whatever you can think of, we've probably seen it being transported through dense traffic in the middle of a busy city, on a motorbike.  Those things are amazing.

I've learned that you can use the squat for anything.  Number one and number two, well those are obvious.  But what if you need to stop and have a long cell phone conversation?  Just pop a squat.  What about enjoying a midday meal in the rice fields?  Squat.  What about enjoying an afternoon meal while completely nude?  SQUAT!  You never need to worry about chairs ever again.

Through our many food adventures, I've learned, as I've mentioned before, that you can get Indian food just about anywhere.  I've also learned that I don't look good with love handles.

I've learned that being half Asian is just about the most beneficial thing when traveling in this country.  People were constantly confusing us for one of their own.  Everywhere we went it was "are you Vietnemese/Thai/Laos/Chinese?"  They weren't always sure, but the suspicion was always prevalent.  They never know what language to address you in, unless you walked in speaking English, and even then sometimes they'd offer to help you in their native tongue.  It's come in handy, especially when we have been able to speak a few words in the local language.  Initial asking prices always seemed to be lower for us, or if they weren't, they seemed more inclined to give us a better discount.  People on the street have generally been more polite and willing to help us with directions or whatever it is we've needed.  I've always felt that when I'm home (in Canada) I'm Filippino and when I'm abroad I'm Canadian.  That's still true, but here I get to be both.  There's something to be said about always feeling welcome and embraced wherever you are.  Sometimes, I suppose locals feel adverse to the invasion of their lives and culture by westerners, especially when some westerners can be very ignorant of local customs and etiquette; but, Darren and I almost always experienced nothing but a warm welcome.

I've also learned, despite the many beauties and pleasantries of all the countries we've visited, that BC is still my home.  There are some things I'm going to miss about Asia and traveling, like the incredibly low cost of living, the amazing food, the amazing people, the diversity of life, the carefree living of a traveler, and perpetual tan; but, there are things I wont miss, like the smell of fermented tofu, the spitting and loud talking, having to constantly take a bus or a plane, the complete lack of spacial awareness ("spasian awareness"), wearing clothes that are always wrinkled, and never really having a place to call your own.  Some people travel, and they say they never want to go home which I can certainly appreciate, but for me BC is where I belong.

Asia has also helped us appreciate something I think we can never appreciate enough.  The sense of community and the importance of the family in Asian culture is far beyond the ideas of the family unit in any other society I've experienced.  You don't just hang out with the kid next door around here, you hang out with the entire village.  Children run up and down the streets at all hours playing and looking out for one another.  The woman down the street is as much a parental figure to a little girl as her own mother.  We've met people who are reluctant to embrace the potential for a better life with more opportunities because they're not willing to leave their family.  The importance placed on family here really made us miss our own.  Darren and I have each other, we are each other's family, and I think that makes traveling for long periods of time easier.  Being together, we never feel lonely.  We are also fortunate enough to have family and close friends scattered across the globe.  Whether it's Hong Kong or Singapore, there are little bits of family abroad to make us feel comfortable and loved.  However, we also miss the rest of our family.  Eating with just the two of us isn't the same.  We've been fortunate enough to live in a time when technology allows us to share our experience with the people we love from so far away, but there were times when it just wasn't enough.  Times when you'd say, "This-person would love this!" or "I wish This-person could see this".  At the end of the day however, what the Asian family has really taught us, is that no matter how little money or material possessions you have, no matter how hard life can be, a family to share it with makes it all bearable.  The richest smiles I've seen were always on the poorest people surrounded by the ones they loved.

We've changed, Darren and I.  I know that the people who step onto that plane tomorrow are not the same people who made that same trip 6 months ago.  We're bigger people now, literally (our clothes are fitting a little snug and I have real love handles for the first time in my life) but, most of the changes are for the better.  We've learned a little more about each other, about ourselves and have grown together, and our views of certain things in this world have changed.  I sort of had this naive and egotistical notion when I left that after six months I'd just pick up from where I left off.  The first thing that really made me realize that life was still going on back home, despite my absence, was the realization that it would be winter when we returned, as if spring and summer were just going to wait for me to come home.  But the world back home has kept going while we've been away, and our lives and our world are going to continue to change once we get home.  Our family has changed and the true realization of that fact wont really hit us until we're there to experience it.  We're going to have to find a new place to call home and are taking on a room-mate.  I'm going back to school in January.  We're going to "start" planning a wedding, our wedding.  I guess my point comes back to what I first started talking about, that "moment".

I suppose I feel like I haven't had that single moment of reflection yet, because it's not just one particular moment.  It may sound cheesy but yes, I feel like life is an adventure.  This particular trip is ending but it's not really over.  I feel like I'm constantly thinking about what we've done, but also what we're going to do.  There are still stories to share and relive, new modes of thought to implement to our lifestyle, and people we've met to keep in touch with.  But the first thing I'm going to do when I get home, is take a breathe of fresh hair, and feel the warm loving embrace of family.

HCMC

HCMC.  Holy Congested Motorcycle Chaos!  Yes.  Ho Chi Mihn City, also known as Saigon, and home to the most motorcycles I've ever seen.  I thought Hanoi was bad, but I realized it's just because the streets in the Old Quarter are so narrow.  The streets here in Saigon are as wide as any others I've seen and still they're crowded.  It's okay though, because during rush hour when the roads look more like a swarm of buzzing bees with helmets, they just use the sidewalk.  Darren and I went on the Lonely Planet walking tour and we finished up right around rush hour.  We figured walking would be faster than taking a taxi because the traffic was so heavy, but then a piece of that traffic was honking behind me, and another piece was rushing past me.  You're not safe anywhere!

We made it out alive however and managed to see quite a bit.  The walking tour includes a lot of Saigon's various historical sights and museums.  We didn't get the earliest start and we didn't make it to all of them but the city definitely does have a lot to offer.  The most memorable for us, which I think is the same for most people, was the War Remnants Museum.  It's more of a photo gallery than a museum but I found that that made it that much more moving.  The exhibition on the ground floor, put together by Tim Page (as I understood from the guidebook) is incredible.  Not to say that the rest of the exhibit isn't incredible, but that first floor really shook me.  I took a photograph of the first photograph that struck me (in the Picassa album), but the rest were so horrific I couldn't bring myself to take pictures of those as well.  It's such a sombre and shocking experience; not because it was the most gruesome war in the history of the world, but because of how well documented it was (publicly).  There was this one image of a soldier holding the destroyed remains (including an arm, head and a bit of everything in between) which was devastating, and another of women and children's bodies laying on the ground with the caption, "Women and children who tried to get away."

Some say that the exhibit is one sided (but really, why shouldn't it be?).  I would beg to differ.  Maybe it depicts more of the Vietnamese casualties than the American or French, but what side these people belonged to doesn't really seem to be the point.  The exhibit certainly doesn't hold back in blaming the US or other armies in it's captions and introductions and the display of propaganda is plentiful; but, if you go through the exhibit (as I did) reading little of the words and just taking in the photographs themselves, what you really see, are people.  People and bombs and destruction and grief and death.  The war wasn't just the Vietnamese against the US or the French, but it was often the Vietnamese against the Vietnamese.  What the exhibit really highlighted for me was simply the pains of war.

During the entire viewing of the exhibit all I could feel was sadness, and all I could think of was the impact of each and every one of those photos and of the role of the photographer.  Some of the photographs were of the photographers and the last images of them before they were killed.  The photographers who survived wrote descriptions for the images in the museum.  I don't normally like statements or descriptions (hence why I rarely take the time to read them), and most of the time I don't even like/read titles.  With a lot of the pictures you didn't need a description or title to understand; however, there were a few pictures I couldn't help but want to know more about.  There was one image of a girl in the midst of total destruction, mouth wide open, with a look of terror on her face.  According to the write-up she was running away from an attack, running as her home was in flames, screaming 'Mommy!  Mommy!'  The picture alone was heart breaking, there was so much anguish in her face, but that description (which I did no justice to) nearly brought me to tears.  There was another of children crying and running naked down the street, with soldiers in the background, and a small mother-daughter portrait added in the corner.  The write-up explained who the central figure (a young girl) was and that she was struck by a napalm bomb.  There were others, even more horrific and violent and disturbing.

The museum also had an exhibit commemorating Hanoi's 1000 year anniversary.  They had images of the old and the new.  Hanoi during the war and Hanoi today.  It was hopeful, seeing pictures of despair juxtaposed with pictures of new life.  There was one image in particular that I remember, it was of a little girl.  It was simple.  Just a little girl, standing on a boat beside a basket of shellfish, but she had the biggest brightest eyes and the happiest smile.  It was beautiful.

If you ever get the chance.  Go see it.  Between the heart breaking photos inside, and all the tanks, bomb shells and war machines outside, it really is a unique experience.  I've never seen anything like it before in my life (maybe I'm a little sheltered) and it really is an eye opener.

(Side note:  In it's brief description of Vietnam's extensive history the guidebook suggests that if the US had bothered to pay any attention to that history a lot of lives could have been saved.  At one point some of the Vietnamese even took up the slogan "Independence or Death".  No matter how few people they had, or how few resources, the Vietnamese have always refused to surrender.)

Food for Thought

It should come as no surprise to anyone that Darren and I like to eat.  I mean, our blog title and our blog address both reference food.  We've had numerous conversations with friends and fellow travelers about how we think it's only right that people eat their way through the countries they visit.  "Half the experience of a country is in its food".  We're not the only people who think this, but somehow I feel like we do WAY more eating than other people.  Especially in small towns like this.  

Mui Ne is one of those small beach town destinations.  One of those places that locals come to for a weekend getaway.  In places like this, there's not a lot to do.  We did a hike up the "Fairy Spring" and today we went sliding down the sand dunes; but otherwise, when we're not sitting by the pool soaking up sun or playing dominoes, we're planning on where to eat our next meal.  Breakfast is always the same once we find somewhere we like, but we sometimes plan 2-3 days worth of meals at a time.

Mui Ne has everything.  There seems to be a large Russian/Czech population so that's something different to choose from.  There's an excellent selection of "international"/western food and local Vietnemese food, and the best part of a beach town are the beach side fresh seafood barbecues... I'm drooling just thinking about it all.

Darren and I are particularly fond of Indian food, and you can seriously get that stuff (in varying degrees) anywhere.  We were on a slow boat for 2 days in Laos and when we stopped in a tiny river town called Pak Beng, there were Indian restaurants everywhere.  So of course, we had no problem finding a fantastic Indian restaurant here in Mui Ne.

I'm pretty sure that anyone watching us eat tonight would think we hadn't eaten in weeks.  The waitresses were actually watching us in utter amazement.  We've noticed over the last couple days that when food is placed in front of us, we destroy it.  We eat like a couple ravenous dogs, but when the food is as good as the food at Ganesh, we can't help but turn into animals.  I think Darren once timed us, and it took us 5 minutes to polish off several plates of food.  Tonight was probably a record.  Darren was even eating the left over sauce from our butter chicken by the spoon-fulls.  No naan, no rice, nothing.  Just spoon-fulls of creamy, buttery deliciousness.  If the waitress hadn't come to clear our plates I don't doubt Darren would've licked the whole platter clean.  We astonished even ourselves tonight.

(Not a word of a lie: I just realised I have a little butter chicken sauce stuck under one of my nails, and yes, I did wash my hands.)

So here I sit, with a wonderful little quote I heard on "Friends" stuck in my head:  "A moment on the lips, forever on the hips."  I guess it's a good thing Darren and I eat so fast that sometimes the food doesn't even touch our lips!  (Yes, we've put on some weight.)

Beautiful British Columbia

As I was basking in the first bit of sun we've seen since we got to Mui Ne and listening to some good tunes I found myself missing a luxury of home.  It may seem absurd to miss anything whilst lying in the sun with the pool to your left and the ocean to your right, the sun and wind in perfect harmony to still get a tan without getting too hot... but I miss driving.  Yes, of all things.  I miss driving with the windows down and the sun shining, singing away to my favourite driving songs.  Whether it was driving from Coquitlam to Abbotsford for school, or just the fifteen minute drive to work.  I enjoy those few minutes of solitude with me and my music and the coolness of the wind (our vehicle is simple and does not have AC).  That is of course on an agreeable traffic day when I'm not running late or being postponed by dense traffic or an accident, but on good days, I really do enjoy a good drive.  We rent motorbikes on occasion, but it's not the same (helmets ruin my hair and there's no music).  The drive up to Prince George is a regular thing for us and the summer drive is just beautiful.  Nothing quite compares to the feeling of a loaded IPod and the beauty of the canyon on a summer's day.  That's one thing Darren and I can fully agree on when we're reflecting and comparing: there is no beauty like the beauty of BC.  As the days roll by we can't help but think about how soon it'll be before we're home.  There are things I don't want to leave, but I do look forward to taking that breath of fresh BC air and enjoying a long, music-filled drive.

"Tropical Tastes and warm breezes"

Read this in a menu at an art cafe yesterday.  It sums up what we're feeling, about these last days, perfectly.

"Whatever You Like We Do For You"

Okay.  So the only person who actually said this to us did not deliver, but that's beside the point.

Hoi An.  The city of tailor made... anything.  Aside from the fact that the city is quaint, beautiful and picturesque it is most well known for its surplus of tailors.  You can actually get anything made in this city.  Belts, shoes, purses, suits, dresses, shirts, ties... "whatever you like".  It's unreal... actually!  In a lot of ways it's like a living dream.

There are so many shops however, that it can be a little overwhelming.  There's a tailor next door to our hotel, and one right across the street, beside that is a restaurant and beside that is a shoe shop, then another tailor, and another, and another, and... well, you get the point.

We were not wholly unprepared!  We had met a delightful couple in Cat Ba who were doing Vietnam in the opposite direction as us and had already been to Hoi An and done the tailoring thing.  Since they already knew what a nightmare trying to find a good tailor could be, they recommended one to us.  Her name is Bee.  Her shop is one of the less prestigious ones, situated in the "Cloth Shop" market, but she could not have been more fantastic.  Despite spending three hours in her shop the first day, we started small.  She did such a fantastic job on that first order that every time we went back for a "fitting" we ended up ordering more... and more... and more.

To give you an idea, we were only going to stay for a maximum of four days, we've been here for six.  Our six days consisted of (between both Darren and myself):
2 suits, both with an extra pair of pants
4 pairs of jeans
7 men's dress shirts
4 blouses
2 blazers
2 winter coats
1 fall/spring jacket
2 pairs of sandals
2 pairs of casual shoes
1 pair of dress shoes
1 pair of stilettos
and a bunch of ties.

To sum up... we're broke, but we look good!

Okay.  So not everything we purchased HAD to be "tailor-made".  But it's hard to stop when everything is custom made to fit you.  You pick the design, you pick the fabric, the details... EVERYTHING!  Go figure, I like to be in control ;)

Bee is far too amazing for words.  There is another woman (from Vancouver) helping Bee establish a website so she can continue business with her clients overseas.  We basically assured her that we were adding ourselves to her list.  I can't say enough wonderful things about that woman's work!  (Okay, so she doesn't actually do the sewing.  It's a family run business and she's the face, the middle-man, but she's darn good at her job.)  She's also about 4 foot nothing and the teeniest, cutest thing ever!
The website is in progress: The Sewing Bee

It's All Relative

Today, Darren and I enjoyed a wonderful day of motorcycle tourism, exploring the ancient city of Hué, but more on that soon.
A report recently came out (viewed on MSN) rating the most expensive provinces to live in Canada. As you might guess, BC was the top province on that list. Along with that report was also a list of the most expensive cities and Vancouver took the top spot as the most expensive city. According to that report homeowners in Vancouver required approximately 75% of their incomes to provide for their average living expenses; while, the homeowners of Toronto, which came is second, required approximately 50% of their incomes.

This evening we met a young man (23 yrs old), a waiter at a restaurant, who looked extremely exhausted. After having invited him to sit down with us (we were the only customers in the restaurant) we got to talking and discovered that he (like so many) is working “part-time” while trying to continue his university studies. His version of “part-time” was working 10 hours a day, every day. Most days he starts at 5 am and ends at 2 (working for a tour company), and he makes 50,000 VND a day (about $2-3). One month of courses for him, is 1 million VND ($50). (If he were to go to school full-time, it would take him 3 years to finish his studies in tourism.) His rent is 300,000 VND ($15) for a small room. On top of his rent, he also has to pay utilities and all the other expected living expenses we all incur. Basically, at the end of the month his “money is very small. Not so good”.
We did a little comparison. For one semester of school in BC, Nghia could go to school for 4-5 years; for one month of rent in Vancouver Nghia could go to school for over 1 year. (Education in Vietnam, by the way, is not free. Children/their families even have to pay for primary school.)
People in BC have long been advocating to raise minimum wage, claiming that the current $8 at full-time hours isn’t enough to pay for a person’s basic needs; and, with the latest numbers, that’s probably true. I wonder if anyone is advocating for the people in Vietnam, since they don’t have the opportunity to vote and choose their own government. Or, like our friend Nghia, maybe they’ve come to accept their only option and work like dogs to get by. In any case, how is it that our one city has become so expensive, while cities on the other side of the world could survive for an entire year on what we do for a month? There are a million and one things to consider, but it all just seems rather amazing to me.

34 Hours.

On Monday, October 4th at approximately 1500 hrs Darren and I boarded a bus from Cat Ba to the port.  At 1600 hrs we boarded a boat from the port to Haiphong.  At 1645 hrs we got off the boat and onto another bus which was to take us to the long distance bus station.  At 1730 hrs we arrived at the long distance bus station.  After watching a man pee in a canal and then continue to wash his face, hands, and feet in the same place he had just peed we boarded a bus to Hue at 1930 hrs-- expected arrival time:  0730 hrs Tuesday, October 5th.  At 0500 hrs Tuesday, October 5th, the bus stopped in the middle of Ky Anh (which we discovered much later).  At 0730 hrs everyone got off the bus, washed their faces, brushed their teeth and ate breakfast.  At approximately 0900 hrs, we re-boarded the bus.  At 1100 hrs after I had finished my book and the bus had not yet moved, I got off.  At 1130 hrs everyone (our bus plus the other two that had arrived) ate lunch.  At 1200 hrs we figured out what was going on.  Flooding (at this point it had been raining for 6-8 hrs).  At 1400 hrs we watched "I Love You, Man".  At 1600 hrs we finished watching "I Love You, Man" and tried to see if we could hire a car or find a flight from a nearby city.  At 1630 hrs, after many "do you speak English"es, no luck.  At 1700 hrs we began watching "How To Train Your Dragon".  At 1720 hrs, we got back on the bus.  We proceeded to drive through what can only be described as small lakes, while watching people push their cars and motorcycles through the waist high water.  At 2300 hrs we stopped for dinner (20km away from Hue).  At 2330 we got back on the bus.  At 0005 hrs we and are soaked bags arrived in Hue.  At 0010 hrs we straddled the backs of some strangemen and their motorbikes.  At 0025 hrs we arrived at a hotel and the driver of one of the bikes proceeded to shout and wake up the guard.  At 0100 hrs we unpacked our wet bags, hung up our wet clothes and went to bed.

What does it all add up to?  34 hours of my life I will never get back, and 10 minutes of your life that you'll never get back!

"I Feel Like A Pirate"

One of the staple things to do in the Cat Ba/Halong Bay area is to take a boat around the bay, either for a day trip of kayaking and swimming, or for an overnight cruise amongst the karst cliffs.  We opted for the overnight cruise.  2 days, 1 night, and not five minutes from the dock and Darren said, "I feel like a pirate".  It was a great experience and we definitely lucked out with some amazing weather and managed to redeem our fading tans.

The two days consisted mostly of sitting on the top deck of the boat, riding from one location to the next.  Stops would include kayaking amidst and under the karst cliffs, swimming on empty, white sand beaches and, having dinner with Vietnemese naval captains!

Throughout the bays there are all of these small fishing villages that live entirely on the water.  Many of them also double as small fish farms, and these small floating communities are clustered all over the place.  It was on one of these small fish farm living spaces that we docked for the night.  The "captain" of our boat, also a former captain of the Vietnemese Navy, invited us to dine with some of his friends.  Our company for the evening consisted of 2 naval captains from Haiphong (a nearby port city), a captain from Cat Ba (the island we had been staying on), amongst other naval officers.  Before we even started to eat, the captain (from Cat Ba) began pouring us shots of the local whisky.  Not wanting to be rude or refuse we kept with their customs.  Unfortunately (but not detrimentally), it seemed their custom to take a shot with every new comer to the table.  This wasn't weak store bought liqueur they were pouring us, it was home made rice whisky which was contained in any sort of bottle (there was a bottle of green tea, a bottle of vodka, and small jug that said "milk" on it).  By 715 I was already asking them to pour me half shots, and by 730 and I was asking to be poured nothing.  It all happened so quickly and before we knew it, all our friends were red and flushed and I was feeling quite free to giggle in excess.

Once we finally began eating (more to balance out the ratio of whisky in our stomachs) something similar happened and food seemed to be in endless supply.  The food our "captain" had cooked for us was already laid out on the table and more than enough (squid, egg, spring rolls, cucumber and tomato, rice, fried potatoes...).  The first strange thing was when the Cat Ba captain began to feed us.  At first he just put a spring roll in our bowls, and then rice.  But then he did something very odd happened.  When what I assume were the suboordinate/younger officers brought out some fish, the Cat Ba captain removed a piece with his chopsticks and held it above my mouth.  He didn't just put food in my bowl but was actually putting food IN MY MOUTH!  And then, just when I thought that was strange and uncomfortable (especially since I was the only woman on this floating accomodation) the Cat Ba captain proceeded to do the same to Darren, and eventually got around to doing it for everyone at the table, and more than once as the pluthera of seafood continued to expand.  By the end of dinner we had been fed (amongst other things) fried fish, mussels, and barbecued prawns--all excellent!  It was some of the best seafood we've had since Malaysia.

Despite having eaten and drunk as much as was humanly possible, and despite being more than content, the fun was not over yet.  No fun-filled Vietnemese night could be complete without a round of karaoke and dancing, and I'm sure it would have been more than rude to decline.  The great thing about Vietnemese karaoke (or any Asian form of entertainment for that matter), is that the television is often an old, small model-- in this case it was probably about a 19" television--but the stereo system takes up an entire room (and there isn't really any to spare when you're leaving on a floating house).  The amp alone was bigger than the tv.  So, with BLARING sound and a tiny tv the evening got started with some Vietnemese tunes!  (At this point, our Cat Ba captain had gotten the hiccups quite badly and gone to sleep.)  They were more than insistent that Darren and I be the main act and the songs they most longed to hear were "My Heart Will Go On", "Hotel California", "Hello", "Get Down" and anything by Michael Jackson (to name a few).

The night also included a friendly match of arm wrestling between Darren and one of the buffer naval officers.  Poor Darren didn't stand a chance.  The guy looked like he was barely trying and Darren looked like he was struggling vigorously.  I think it was 930 when Darren and I finally gave up and when our Haiphong captain began dancing blissfully by himself.  They all wished us a "happy" night and sleep and they place suddenly became very quiet.

The whole trip was pretty fantastic and getting to party with some high ranking locals was a treat.  Our trip may have been a little more luxurious than that of a pirate, and there was no pillaging or treasure hunting, but Darren did scope out some good places to hide treasure if we ever find any.

Revealing Hanoi

As I was battling my way through the insane motorcycle traffic of this crowded city I saw a man sitting on the steps of a building, eating what I think was a sandwhich.  You see, I can't really remember exactly what he was eating though I'm sure he was eating something, because I was distracted by the fact that this man was completely naked.  Yup!  Not a shred of clothing on this man.  His manner and position was not in any way shamed.  He was sitting as if completely comfortable, with no intention of concealing one shred of his very naked body, as if he were fully clothed.

Holy Hanoi!

After spending a few days in the Laos capital, Vientienne, Darren and I boarded a flight with Laos Airlines to make our way to Hanoi!

Something however, went terribly wrong.  No, this doesn't have to do with the fact that Laos Airlines has one of the worst fatality rates of all the Asian airlines (a very comforting fact).  No!  After about an hour of flying, we somehow landed in China.  Yup.  China all over again.  We went from the lovely, oh so quiet and pleasant Laos, where the people are kind and happy to talk to you and help you whenever and however they can despite any language barriers; to, the loud talking, spitting, more-motorcycles-in-one-given-area-then-is-humanly-possible, consistent honking city of... well... look at that... it's not China, it's Hanoi!  Could've fooled me!

But seriously, there are so many motorcycles here it's like watching panick stricken rats running through sewage tunnels trying to escape the oncoming floods-- except there are no floods, just some sort of innate need to get from point A to point B as fast as possible, even if that means riding on the sidewalks and running over small old ladies on their bicycles.  There are so many motorcyclists here that instead of side-street vendors selling souvenirs, they sell helmets.  Helmets that look like Nike baseball hats, Louis Vuitton patterned hats, with Mickey Mouse designs, etc.  I've never seen such fashionable helmets before in my life.  Neither have I ever seen so many men doubling on motorcycles in matching helmets!

After taking over an hour to make our way through the herds of motorists, we very confusedly got out of the airport shuttle with a bunch of other confused tourists, in the middle of a busy intersection, with absolutely no idea where we were.  We did manage to find some street signs which were hiding behind trees, and other, more important banners and signs.  Once we established which busy intersection we fighting off motorcycles on, we still had no idea where we were going.  So we hopped in a taxi and asked him to take us to a hotel (some guy at the airport had given us a brochure for his hotel) and even the driver had no idea where he we were going.  Our driver definitely pulled out his cell phone the minute we told him where we needed to go, saying something in Vietnemese, and I'm pretty sure he was asking for directions.  Once we got to a one way street, he basically told us to get out and walk at which point we discovered that we were still several blocks from where we wanted to be.  Trying to walk through these streets is insane.  There are warnings and instructions in our guide book about crossing the streets here, the last effort being to just find a local and follow him across the street.

So.  Here we are.  Afraid to leave our hotel room and re-enter the mass insanity of the streets of the Old Quarter.  Just hearing the honking seems to raise my stress levels.  I know it's only been two or three months since we were last in China, but I've been spoiled since then with calm and tranquility.   But I can't hide in my air conditioned hotel room, equipped with fridge and satellite television forever... or can I?

"In the Vang Vieng Laos Tubing "

It's definitely one of those places you could get stuck in, and in more ways than one.  Darren and I didn't intend to spend a lot of time here, and yet we find ourselves almost rushing ourselves off to the next destination.  We've definitely gotten comfortable here.

Vang Vieng, the infamous town for tubing down the bar laden river, has become somewhat tainted by the "falang" culture.  It's unfortunate and, according to the locals we've spoken to, an undesired change in this once sleepy little village.  However, a lot of people do profit from the craziness that goes on here.  Without the "falangs" sure there would not be the endless noise, debauchery, or endless reruns of "Friends"; but neither would the bars, restaurants, tourist offices or street vendors exist either.  So who knows.  I didn't have the pleasure of experiencing Vang Vieng before the "falangs" so I can only judge the village's current state... and I must say, I quite like it.

Our first day we did nothing.  The bus ride the night before was a bit of a bust, and it was hot and we thought we'd just be lazy.  It was nice.  Of course, "Go-Get'em-Andy" couldn't rest still for too long and spent the majority of our lazy day trying to convince us to go rock climbing with him bright and early at 9am the next morning.  He has a way of making you feel a little bit guilty for "wasting" time and not "seizing the day".  So we eventually caved in and opted for a day of physical effort.

The last, and only, time I went climbing I was probably about 12 years old on an indoor wall at the Crag for someone's birthday party.  Since I have little to no recollection of what that was like I have always wanted to try proper climbing.  I didn't not like it, but I didn't love it either.  Now that I'm a few days from the experience, I can say that I enjoy'd myself.  At the time, my response may have been a little different. 

I came down with a bit of an upset stomach in the night and was feeling pretty tired and uncomfortable by the time we got to mountain face, and I was feeling pretty weak.  That being said, regardless of whether or not I was sick, I still don't think I have the physical stamina for climbing.  I also don't have the technique.  Climbing is hard!  It's a tough sport even when you're going pretty well, but the minute you get stuck and stop to try to find your holds or where to put you feet, you really start to feel it.  Again, this is mostly because we weren't doing it properly; but, if it wasn't for Kong holding me up most of the time I don't think I would've successfully finished any of the climbs.  Kong, our guide, was/is an amazing climber.  Watching him crawl up those walls like a monkey is unreal.  When I compare his climbs to ours it's just pathetic really.  We (and by that I mean, I) probably looked like a poor, clumsy (enter name of creature who does not belong on a rock face), while Kong looked all skilled and graceful.  Seriously a world of difference!

By the third or fourth climb, I was done.  All I wanted to do was close my eyes and pass out.  I got maybe 2 meters from the top and crapped out!  Just below the top the rock face was pretty smooth.  No more nice large edges and deep pockets to stand on and hold onto.  I stood for a moment, searching, feeling my arms and my body shake, letting the panic creep in, and I forfeited.  I told Kong to take me down, and despite the boys' persistent encouragement I wasn't going anywhere!

That night, I went to bed at 930 and slept for 12 hours!

The next morning, it was finally time to get to some tubing.
For many other travellers, tubing is a new and rare experience.  For anyone who grew up in Canada or the west coast, you've probably done it before.  Growing up, tubing down the river was a regular occurrence.  So no, this wasn't my first time.
The two big differences between home and here however, are pink eye and bars.  Apparently, a lot of people get pink eye (feces in the eyes) from the river.  So far so good, but everyone has become a little paranoid I think.  Certinaly, no one likes to think about it much either.  But the bars!  Oh the bars!  The first three-quarters of the river is just lined with them.  Even before you get into the water there are bars on either side of the starting point.  It's crazy.  Word of caution: intoxication and tubing = bad idea.  A great money maker and a lot of fun, but hazardous!  The bars do play fantastic music and it's nice to get out and dance, jump off a very high swing, and then get back in your tube just as the heat starts to stick and keep going until you hit the next bar.  Tubing down the river was a blast.  We did however, have a small incident (and this time Tanya it wasn't me!).
Our wonderful, enthusiastic friend Andy was a little too into the whole tubing and bar experience.  Caution to the wind, he was literally jumping into his tube from the river bank.  The first few times, this wasn't a problem, but it only took that one time and it became a problem.  He jumped into his tube, not paying much attention to the giant rocks (limestone = sharp edges) sticking out of the shallow waters.  He sliced open his elbow.  We kept on floating and half way to the next stop his elbow was really bleeding.  We got out and tried to patch him up with tissues and a "Bucket Bar" wrap but between the dehydration and blood loss, poor Andy hit the ground pretty hard!  The guy working at the bar offered to take him to the tuktuk station by boat (we obviously weren't going to let him back in the water), and so he, Darren and Joe headed off to the hospital while Silvio and I floated down the rest of the river with our five tubes.  The hospitals here have obviously seen their share of tubing accidents, but all I can pictures are expressions of "not another one" as Andy walked into the hospital with a red band with the words "Bucket Bar" on it tied around his wounded elbow!

Andy's fine.  He got a few stitches and some antibiotics, and now he's got a river wound like everyone else.  At least 1 out of 5 "falangs" that travel down that river are a testament to the hazardous combination of tubing and intoxication, but it's funny how the notion only becomes more popular.  Andy even had elbow-injury company in the hospital in the form a blonde English girl.

So, no, this wasn't my first time tubing down a river, but tubing here is a whole different thing altogether.  Especially since, in the rainy season (which it is now) it only takes about 1 hour to get down the river (even faster if it's recently rained, which it had), and it took us about 5 hours.  If you do the math, you can easily see that you spend far more time dancing and tarzan swinging than you do tubing.

Well, with Andy stitched up, and our novelty tubing shirts, we're off to Vientienne tomorrow to organize our last month, in Vietnam.

On Laos-Time

I've been feeling extremely lazy (more so than usual) and the only thing I can think to explain it all is that, I'm on "Laos-Time".  Laos-Time, if you haven't guessed it, is just a prolonged sense of the time the rest of the world seems to run on.  If a Tuk Tuk driver tells you it'll take twenty minutes to get somewhere, you can generally expect that it'll probably take an hour.  If a restaurant tells you they can prepare your meal in ten minutes, what they really mean is 30.  Just like when our bus out of Luang Prabang was supposed to be 6 hours, but was actually 8.  So this is the way my mind and body have begun to function.  Time therefor, has more or less become irrelevant.

When we were in the jungle, trekking, Laos-Time was less apparent.  We got up with the sun and the gibbons and always seemed to have a schedule (if not totally monitored by a clock).  In Muang Noi, this was not the case, though the generators always let you know what time of day it was.  In Luang Prabang, we lost any sense of time all together.

Our first day in Luang Prabang we walked up the 286 some odd steps to the top of the Phusi temple to watch the sunset.  (Andy's motto in life is the infamous carpe diem and is good at urging us into activity no matter how long we've just spent in a hard wooden boat.)  From there we wandered into the night market (which couldn't be helped since it lines the streets at the base of the hill), and found ourselves some dinner at the local food market.  It's a pretty genius place.  You can get bbq fish, chicken, sausage or pork (for about 15,000 kip = $2) and a large plate of buffet style vegetable dishes for 10,000 kip = $1.25.  All the times we went I don't think Darren and I ever managed to finish a meal, and we always shared the plate of vegetables.  After dinner, we headed to a trendy little bar/lounge called "Utopia" where we were supposed to meet up with a bunch of other people from Muang Noi.  People slowly drifted in (they were all on Laos-Time too) and by the end of the night we had sort of overrun the place.  It was a little expensive but a really great little bar.

Thanks to our new friend Mike (from Sydney) we also got wind of a great little bakery/cafe called "Arthouse Cafe", owned by a Canadian woman, that has the best breakfasts at a great value.  Fruit salad, a bagel with cream cheese and refillable Laos coffee for 25,000 kip = $3.  We went there everyday, and everday breakfast would take us at least an hour, most times longer.  It's one of the only places in all our travels thus far where they will refill your coffee for free.  Everywhere else is more like Starbucks or Tim Hortons--if yo want more than one cup you have to pay for it.  So we often sat talking, long after our meals were finished, just drinking our delicious cups of Laos coffee (and taking advantage of the cafe's air con).

Despite our inclination to do nothing, we did head to a waterfall on our second day (Andy was a factor in the planning and getting us motivated of course).  I think it was the Tad Sae waterfall.  It was absolutely beautiful.  It was the hottest day we'd experienced yet (in Laos) and was absolutely perfect.  The waterfall pools in teers down the mountain.  At the bottom there is a park-like set up with picnic tables and changerooms, but we started by climbing right to the top and going for a dip with not a soul in sight.  It was amazing and the water was so refreshing.

After a lazy day at the falls, we headed into town and began our ritual of walking through the night market, eating and walking back.  A good chunk of our time in Luang Prabang was spent eating and talking and doing a bit of nothing (no wonder I love the place so much).  The city was suprisingly quiet (because of the low season apparently) and the market was almost bare.  It was so peaceful, everyday and everywhere you went.

Continuing on our quest for relaxation, our last night in town, Darren and I went for the best massages!  Anisa, a girl from New Mexico, had a 3 hour massage earlier that day; consisting of, a 10 minute hot shower, 1 hour aromatherapy massage, 1 hour facial, and 50 minutes reflexology massage.  I checked it out, and this 3 hour package was 150,000 kip = not even $20.  We didn't have quite that much time, so Darren got a 1 hour full body traditiona massage (40,000 kip = $5) and I got a 1 hour facial (60,000 kip = $8).  The facial was amazing.  She started with some sort of cream cleanser, then an herbal scrub, then warm honey, some other sort of cream, then a tightening mask, taking her time to massage all of these things into my skin one by one.  During my 1 hour, she also massaged both my arms and hands, my feet, and even spent a few minutes on my neck, shoulders and upper back.  I almost felt light headed afterwards, I was so relaxed.  Darren and I closed the place down, went back to our guesthouse and slept like babies!  I wish massages were this good and this cheap back home!

Anyway, not a lot to tell.  We're on Laos-Time.  We're in Vang Vieng now, the infamous tubing destination of Laos and will get to doing something eventually.  Other than breakfast and switching guesthouses (bed bugs :S) we haven't done a thing.  We'll probably grab lunch at a restaurant which runs "Friends" episodes non-stop, all day, and then evenutally eat dinner; but, that will likely be as exciting as today gets.  Don't worry though, we're not staying here for too long and I do want to go tubing (of course), see some caves, and we'll possibly go rock climbing as well.  So Laos-Tme or not, things will pick up.  Keep checking in!

Always and Forever

As I mentioned, yesterday was a pretty fantastic day. I had already decided that Muang Ngoi is a place I will always remember, for its peace, its beauty and for its people. I love the Lao people. They are some of the kindest people I’ve met in SE Asia. They don’t yell. They don’t seem vulgar in any way. If you say hello or offer a greeting they will almost always return it. They live simply and peacefully, making babies with due diligence (there are children EVERYWHERE), and the people are beautiful—men and women, adults and children. They are all beautiful, gentle people.
Muang Ngoi is just a small village on the riverside, only reachable by boat, where the generators only come on from about 7pm to 10pm. The food available depends on what they’ve received from the nearest town/market recently, and only what they can keep fresh on blocks of melting ice. Life is simple here. You come to appreciate the stillness, the silence, and the lack of electronic-associated stimuli. Last night however, something else occurred which will leave Muang Ngoi forever imprinted in my memories.
It ended up being a pretty quiet night. I think we were all pretty tired from the physical excursion of floating and tubing down the river. (Obviously, it wasn’t exhausting at all, but somehow none of us were too inclined to do much more than sit around.) Darren and I had a light, late dinner, sat around and talked with our new friend Caitlyn, and then he went to go spend some time with the boys and Caitlyn and I took the opportunity to have a little girl chat.
Once the sleep set in, I left Caitlyn to her hammock and went to begin reading the book I had just picked up (the infamous Eat, Pray, Love) while waiting for Darren to come to bed. Only three or so chapters in and Darren came back. The generators had been turned off and there was no light, anywhere. We were lying in bed in our riverside bungalow when he said, “If I asked you to marry me would you say yes?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked me a question like this and I replied, “Of course” but didn’t think much of it. So, when a moment later he said those simple words, “Will you marry me?” I almost thought he was kidding. I was taken off guard, but managed a “Yes” regardless. He told me that countless opportunities have presented themselves over the past few months (especially on the sunset beaches of Malaysia) but he didn’t ask then because he didn’t have a ring. He told me he was sorry because he still didn’t have a ring, but he couldn’t wait anymore. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t fancy. There were no bells or whistles, no candlelit dinner or moonlit walk on the beach. He didn’t get down on one knee and I don’t have the most romantic, spectacular story to tell all my friends, but it was perfect. It was as I had always imagined it. Just the two of us. Lying in bed. Happy.
So, there it is. After six years, it has finally happened—simple and just as it was always meant to. Once we’re back in the real world with an income, we’ll worry about a ring and all the other formalities. But until then, it’s official. I even double checked this morning. We’re engaged!

Up The River

Okay, so technically we went down the river before going up the river. After the Gibbon Experience Darren, myself, and our adopted Swiss Andy, all jumped into a large long-tail boat to make the infamous journey down river to Luang Prabang. It was a beautiful boat ride taking about two days (6-7 hours the first day and 7-8 hours the second day). The alternative to taking the boat is to go by bus, on roads that are not very reliable, for 16 hours. Travelling by boat on river is wonderful! It may take an extra day but it’s such a relaxing day that you can’t really complain.
After spending one night in Pak Beng, we spent one night in Luang Prabang before leaving the Mekong and taking a bus to Nong Khiaw. Now, after just arguing for the boat over a bus it seems strange that we would then take the bus instead of the boat to Nong Khiaw. We though that since the trip to Nong Khiaw is up river it would be wiser to take the bus. Always go with your first instinct. Take the boat! The bus wasn’t actually a bus, it was a sawngthaew (which literally means two rows), a pick up truck with a canopy and two benches in the back. There were approximately ten of us squished into the back of that sawngthaew. Take the boat!
Once we got to Nong Khiaw, we did eventually take the boat. We went up the Nam Ou river for about an hour to the village of Muang Ngoi. You can only get to the village by boat and it’s absolutely wonderful. All that’s really here are some locals, their guesthouses, and a monastery. It’s such a beautiful, peaceful place on the river that it’s sort of hard to leave. Although it’s been raining a lot, a covered hammock right on your front porch overlooking the river makes up for the lack of sunshine. (At this very moment, I’m laying in said hammock writing this blog and watching a lightening storm brew in the distance).

The river and the village has quite a bit to offer. Today, we took a boat up river to a couple of the minority villages. The first village seemed a little put off by our presence. It was a cheap tour and no one accompanied us into the village and so we arrived to aimlessly wander and observe. I felt a little bit like I had been dropped off at a zoo. Not because the people were like animals, but because I felt like I was imposing on their village to just watch and stare at them. While I was extremely interested in observing their culture, I usually prefer to do so by taking part in it, not just walking around staring. That being said, it was a lot of fun playing with and watching the children. There are so many kids here in Laos, especially in the villages. Kids are everywhere, and they do everything. Most of the time you’ll see six or seven year old girl with a three month old baby on her hip. Today, we also saw a nine year old girl washing laundry, including the clothes on her back. Everyone takes part. Everyone works, no matter how old or young you are. It’s astonishing and fascinating. The second village we went to is known as the “weavers” village. All the women weave their own textiles and scarves to sell to the tourists who come through their villages. Again, even the children take part in the weaving and selling to help support their community. Some of the younger kids just run around butt-naked. When we first passed the area there were a bunch of children seemingly bathing in the river. When we left that same area there were two naked boys paddling around in a canoe. Oh! To be so free! Ha ha ha!
With lots of karst mountains there are apparently a lot of caves in the area as well. After the village we took a short, albeit muddy walk to one of the local caves. The guide didn’t even seem to know how to get there and I don’t think it’s one of the more popular caves but it was pretty cool. It wasn’t a long or deep cave, but crawling down into a dark hole is definitely a little nerve racking, and the stalactites were very interesting.

Most of us made our way back down the river on tubes. It was raining (of course) and a little cold, but very relaxing. Once it stopped raining and warmed up, it was perfect. In fact, after we finished tubing, there was the biggest patch of blue sky any of us have seen in over a week. We all even got a bit of a tan! Drinking coffee and sipping beers at the cozy Riverside restaurant, watching the sun go down was the perfect way to end a pretty great day.

The Experience

Well, it finally happened. The long awaited and much anticipated 3 day trek including zip line and tree houses has finally occurred! Yes, the Gibbon Experience, and what an experience it was.

For those of you who haven’t already heard us talk about it time and time again, the Gibbon Experience is a jungle trek in which you trek through the jungle, on foot as well as with the use of zip lines a couple hundred meters high, and spend your nights in tree houses. We first heard of the experience from one of Darren’s friends, and though expensive, it immediately became one of the top things to do on our trip.

So. Yes. The infamous experience.

We set out around 9 in the morning after a brief safety and instructional video at the Gibbon Experience office. There, we also met up with the rest of the people to be in our group. There were ten of us in total (which is quite a bit for the low season, the max being twelve): 3 Dutch girls, 1 Australian, 1 Kiwi, 1 American, 1 Brit, and 1 Swiss (and the two of us of course). We met Andy, the Swiss, the day before and since he was travelling alone we more or less “adopted” him. All of us piled into two vehicles and made the two hour drive to the river.

There was some concern as to how far we would actually be able to drive the first day. We were told that if it rained too much and the road conditions were too poor that we could have to hike up to 11 hours to the village where we were meant to be starting. After driving on paved roads for the first two hours we didn’t think there would be any problems at all getting into the village. When we were all loaded into the truck we were taken by surprise when the truck did not continue straight on the paved road but instead turned down a very rough looking mud road towards the river. We were taken even more by surprise when the truck began to drive through the river. Ya! We suddenly began to understand why the rain could make such an impact.

Immediately following the river was another hill. We all had to get out so the truck could get up the hill, and then pile back in and continue. There were many hills, some of which looked like they had entire creeks running through them, and there were plenty of times when we didn’t think the truck could make it up. Every time the driver stopped (whether to change gears or tighten the bolts on the tires) we always thought that it meant that we had to start walking. After making it up several nerve racking hills however, we were eventually kicked out of the truck about an hour away from the village. That last hour was almost entirely downhill, but the truck had spun its tires so bad in the mud that it just couldn’t continue.
We made it to the first village relatively easily. We stocked up on a few things (snacks, beer, etc) and started our trek into the jungle and out to the tree houses. We began by crossing yet another river, but this time by foot.

May I take this opportunity to point out that every day that we’ve been in Laos, it has rained, and the Gibbon Experience is no exception. It was muddy! So! So muddy! (For the entire 3 days, all trekking consisted of routine stops to check ourselves for leeches!)
Soaking wet, we made it safely to the “kitchen” (more or less the headquarters of the Experience out in the jungle). There, we were harnessed up and told to take a picture of the map in case we got lost. We were quickly briefed on what the next few days would entailed, introduced to our guides and off again into the rain.
Our first zip!

The first zip we took was amazing. It wasn’t incredibly long but the way it was hung and what with the rain, it was quite fast. We were told to break hard. A few of us had some troubles with the breaking system. Our first zip: Auria vs. The Tree. The Tree won. For the life of me I couldn’t stop. Jaa Lee (our guide) was yelling, “Break! Break!” I gave it everything I had but it was no good. So I stuck up my feet intending to let my legs, rather than my face, absorb the impact but the tree still managed to wound me. Not badly of course. Because of all the mud on my shoes and the speed which I was travelling, as soon as my feet hit the tree the slid right off onto either side and I managed to do a decent number on my shin. Not bad but enough to draw blood. The zip itself was such a blast that my horrible landing did not defer me in the least.
I think we did one more zip after that and then one zip into our tree house. We lucked out with our tree house for sure! Because the group was so large we had to be split up into two groups—one group of four to stay at Tree House 3 (one of the older and smaller tree houses) and one group of six to stay at Tree House 7 (the newer and larger tree house). It may have been my suggestion but it also made sense; because Darren and I had adopted Andy we were a group of three, and it only made sense to put the two groups of three together and thus volunteering Darren and myself along with the other for Tree House 7.
It was beautiful! Words, and maybe even pictures, can not describe how amazing this place was. Let me start from the ground up. This tree is almost 200 meters tall. The tree house itself is probably about 150 m from the jungle floor. You zip-line into the lowest level of the tree house. To your right is a slightly crooked shoe rack. To your left is the staircase to the main level. Across from where you zip in is the washroom. I want one! The first thing you see when you walk into the bathroom is an amazing view! You’re looking out into and over the jungle and the mountains and it’s absolutely breath taking. The toilet is a squat toilet, but who cares when you have such a beautiful view. The shower is amazing and hovers over a slat-wood floor, and there is something amazingly thrilling and peaceful and rejuvenating about showering naked in clean cool water overlooking such a lush forest. (I can easily say that the shower is my favourite part of the tree house). On the main level there is a large, low table where we all eat; a small kitchenette consisting of a few shelves (built into the tree), a sink, and a fridge; two hammocks; and, two sleeping areas. We slept on two to three mats spread out on the ground with a cloth canopy/mosquito net suspended above us. And of course, there is an amazing 360 degree view of the jungle! There is also an upper level in Tree House 7 (the other tree houses only had one floor) with just enough room for a small sleeping area and a hammock. The view from the top floor was amazing but slightly obstructed by branches; that being said, it made the top floor seem a little more private and secluded. Darren and I being the only couple, we were elected to take the top floor and we had no arguments about it!
We were to spend the rest of our day just settling into our tree house and around 5pm dinner was zipped in from the kitchen nearby, along with hot water for tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. The meals were simple, but delicious and were followed by local fresh fruits and snacks.

The nights and the mornings were early. The sun went down just before seven and with no electricity it was hard to stay up very late. The six of us rigged our head lamps around the tree house and played cards until talked and laughed until about ten. Then, we all fell asleep to the sounds of frogs and crickets in the trees. Some people are bothered by the noise and say that it’s too loud, but the six of us found it rather peaceful. The following morning we woke up bright and early to the sounds of Gibbons singing off in the distance. Their calls are both eery and peaceful. They were too far away to see them but we were hopeful knowing they were in the area.
We spent that afternoon trekking and zipping over to tree house 3 (where the other group stayed) and then trekking and zipping over to tree house 5 where we met up with the other group for lunch. We were all a bit miserable and wet. I was bleeding quite a bit from my foot where a leech had clearly had a nice lunch! The rain seemed to have subsided on the way back and we all took liberties with a nice little loop of zip-lines and just kept going over and over and over again! It was so much fun. It had actually stopped raining for most of the time that we were zipping, but even when it did rain lightly, when you’re zipping, it’s all good! It’s the walk back in ankle deep mud that isn’t so great.
We were definitely wet, muddy and exhausted by the time we got back to the tree house and it was all we could do much look forward to a beautiful shower and a nice hot cup of coffee. All cleaned up and refreshed, we were served dinner, and once again spent the night playing cards and listening to the sounds of the jungle at night.

While our array of head lamps did well to light up our tree house, as you all know, lights also attract a series of bugs. The first night a very large beetle (easily the size of Twinkie) flew into my shoulder, and on this second night a very large bee flew into our tree house (probably the size of my thumb). We were all freaking out, until finally it landed on the table and we caught it under a mug… and there we left it. I had actually completely forgotten about it until I heard that in the morning our guide accidentally found it as he was tidying up for breakfast. Oops! Apparently he whacked it with a broom.

On the third day, we again woke up to the sounds of the Gibbons singing in the trees. This time, they weren’t too far away to see. With the naked eye you could only make out the movement in the trees, but thankfully, Tree House 7 came equipped with a telescope. For about a half hour we took turns watching the Gibbons swing from tree to tree and and listening to their strange calls. It was pretty amazing and was definitely the icing on the cake. Later that morning, Tree House 3 came over to Tree House 7 for breakfast. The rest of the afternoon consisted of trekking back to the rest of the world, but not before stopping to do a few rounds on the zip lines. It was so much fun, but again, I didn’t do well with the breaking system. I got into a bit of a tiff with one of the cables when I was going to fast and couldn’t stop. My clamp hit on of the bolts and caused a small cable burn on my arm (no big deal, it’s almost completely gone already).
The rest of the trip was wet of course, and we were muddy, but this made crossing the river that much more of a welcomed necessity! We all took advantage of the opportunity to wash the mud off our shoes and our legs… maybe we jinxed ourselves.
We had to walk a ways to the truck, which was all up hill and we were exhausted. The sun had come out a bit and it wasn’t too muddy… but then… then the rains came. At least half a dozen times we all had to get out of the truck and help push it up the muddied slopes. At one point, we even had to just wait until the rain stopped because there was no way the truck would make it so long as the ruts were running with water. I somehow ended up behind a tire every time I tried to push and I had mud in my hair, and my ears, on my face and all over my clothes. One of the actual creators of the Gibbon Experience (a French guy) was with our group for the trip back to Huay Xai and when we reached the river he put his pants in the boat and walked across, stripping down to his underwear as he went and taking a little bath. Covered in mud, we all thought this looked like a pretty good idea, and while we didn’t strip down, we did opt for walking across rather than taking the boat, and it felt fantastic.
In the end, we were exhausted, wet and dirty, but would do the experience again in a heartbeat. It probably would’ve been better without all the rain but the experience was definitely incomparable. The zip lining was amazing. The tree house was fantastic, and waking up to the sounds of Gibbons in the morning and watching them swing amidst the trees is priceless.
The one and only disappointment of the trip (and it’s kind of a big one) is that the video camera, which we bought expressly for the purpose of this experience, went missing no more than an hour before we left. Darren had put it down to take off his shoes and forgotten it on the lower level of the tree house. One of the girls had seen it when she zipped in the following morning and it was not there when we left an hour later. We searched the ground beneath the tree house and asked everyone in both groups. So far, the camera is still MIA. We exchanged info with the office and are hoping that once we’re back in internet territory we’ll know if they’ve found anything. Besides the fact that video is the only way to really capture the feel of the zip lining, the worst part of having lost the camera is that we had not backed up or downloaded any of our other videos. The pandas, the tigers, the beaches. All of it was still on the video camera. So sorry if words and pictures can’t do justice to the experience of flying through the trees and over the jungle. Hopefully the camera will turn up soon!  (Still no word on the camera and it's been about a week!)

"Good For Health": The Mr Whisky Real Jungle Trek

Everywhere you go in Chiang Mai there are posters and signs for jungle trekking... EVERYWHERE!  Here at our guesthouse, there is an organization called "Mr Whisky Real Jungle Treks".  According to the boss man who organizes and pitches the treks to each customer, the average trek consists of signing up twenty or so people, cramming them into a truck, and taking them to a more or less modernized mountain village for a night.  He knows these things because he apparently was a guide for one of these establishments for many years.  His purpose in creating his own company was to show people the real jungle and the real mountain villages.  Because of the exposure of the other villages to tourists and their proximity to the city, they are apparently too modern and most of their traditional ways done away with.  With Mr Whisky's trek, you go deep into the jungle, to the real villages, where there are no roads, no electricy, and no ammenities of any kind.  It sounded like quite a sales pitch at first, but the testimonies of recent particpants convinced us to join.  3 days, 2 nights.

Our guide was a man named Saikam.  Born in a Karin village in the jungle.  He really is a man of nature.  All of us, there were six in our group, noted that as soon as we got into the mountains he was a changed man.  He was like a kid in a candy store, excited and full of energy and stimulation.  The great thing about Saikam is that he was raised in the jungle, his family (wife and kids) still live in his village and he goes back as often as he can.  He genuinely loves the jungle, knows everything there is to know about it and couldn't have been a better person to help us understand and learn about it as well!  He told us lots of great stories and filled us with so much info I'm unable to retain it all, and he really cared about our experience!  Great man!

The night before we left for the hike, Saikam met up with all of us to give us a brief outline of how we would spend our days and to gear us up and get to know us.  They provided us with packs, sleeping bags, a pack list, and a machete.  Yup, a machete!  The blade was close to a foot long, seemingly made out of iron, and the handles made out of teek wood.  We were advised to leave them in our rooms until the next day and not walk around town with them!

Well our trip started with breakfast at 6am the next morning at the guesthoust, after which we drove to a local market some 40 minutes out of town to gather supplies.  From there it was probably another 30-45 minutes to a small village near the base of the mountain where the locals make whisky and snacks.  Apparently most of the villagers and mountain tribes used to harvest and sell opium, but since the ban of the drug they now primarily make whisky.  They make the whisky by fermenting sticky rice in massive barrels and then boiling and distilling it before bottling it.  A 1 litre bottle from this "manufacturer" (by that I mean a man, his wife, and a few other ladies from the village in a small wooden shack) is 60 baht ($2).  They also make various sweets, fried bananas, wafers, roasted peanuts, and harvest tobacco.  The way they smoke is quite interesting.  The tobacco itself looks like any regular loose tobacco you might buy, but they roll it in dried banana leaves, and EVERYBODY smokes this stuff.  The guy's wife was sitting on the floor packaging sweets with a huge roll of tobacco in her mouth!  Also, while in Canada a lot of people chew tobacco, they chew green tea leaves.  Saikam says that a lot of people don't drink coffee, and so to stay awake for long drives and other things they stick a wad of green tea leaves in their cheeks.  Coincidentally, this (like everything else) is "good for health".  "Good for health" is a recurring theme during the trek.

Another hour or so into the mountains brought us to a Hmong village and a bit of rain.  The Hmong people, as you might have guessed, are descendants from Mongolia and resemble a lot of the tribal people we encountered in China.  Their chief industry (since opium is out) is selling "pop" (not sure how it's spelled), which is an orange fruit that tastes something like a mix between an apple and a melon.  We watched some of the local ladies at work, tasted some of the goods, and then headed off to check out the traditional home of the chief of the village.  If you're expecting anything fancy, you'll be disappointed; and yet, because we have no comparison, it may well have been a fancy home.  It was fairly simple by our standards however.  It basically consisted of two rooms, not unlike our own homes with a sleeping area and a common/kitchen area.  It was no more than a wooden shack however, hardly water sealed and the floors were of dirt.  The "stove" consisted of a firepit in the ground with a small wok stand over it, and a pan hanging from the sealing for drying corn and fish.  There was a smoked mole above the fire as well and corn hung from all the walls.  In the corner of the kitchen area was a small bamboo bed/sitting area, and for chairs we all sat on 4-5 inch high wooden stools.  In the doorway hung a small piece of hornets nest to ward off evil spirits, and a boar jaw bone hung on another wall.  In the hut we all sat around and Saikam introduced us to some medicinal herbs which you smoke out of a large bamboo bong.  The lady of the house was using this same medicinal herb to make rope.  Everything in the mountains has multiple purposes and is "good for health".  This particular herb is supposed to be good for your muscles.  He also took out a huge bundle of porcupine leaves which incidentally, they also use for medicine, and something else but I can't remember.  Part of the culture of people living in and off the mountains is to eat pretty much everything.  Consequently, Saikam informed us that porcupine is "good meat" and if you boil the porcupine first, then getting the quills off is very easy.

From the village we drove deeper into the mountains.  Being that it's the rainy season, the roads were pretty washed out and their not exactly paved and level to begin with.  I felt like we were driving through creeks.  There were huge trenches filled with water and the roads were incredibly bumpy and muddy.  Thank goodness for 4wheel drive.  Saikam said that before they got the trucks, everyone used to have to get out and push up the hills, and some of them were really steep too.  I had to sit in the cab with the guide and our driver because the winding, bumpy roads were not kind to my stomach, and eventually we stopped at our starting point.  Along the way, Saikam showed us all sorts of plants.  Despite the fact that they all look the same, they all smell completely different.  Saikam was constantly stopping, picking a handful of leaves, bruising them with his hands and smelling them before passing them around.  They smelled like everything from lemon, to cilantro, to black licorice.  Some were for "good health", some were for cooking.  Everytime Saikam stopped to smell something though he always seemed to be invigorated by it.  He also taught us how to "pop" leaves.  We're not very good at it but he can make a distantly loud noise.  You make a circle with your hand, place a leaf on top and smack it.  If done properly it will blow a hole in the leaf and make a loud "pop".  I managed to blow the hole in the leaf but never made more than a smacking noise.  Saikam also showed us a vine that we could drink out of.  Often, he'd stop to do something without telling us what was going on, and this particular time he just stopped and hacked away a huge piece of vine.  Then he lifted it above his head, opened his mouth and we all watched as water trickled out of the vine and away he drank.  We all walked by in turn as to have a little taste and the water from that vine was amazing.  Maybe we were just tired and thirsty, but it really did taste fresh and clean.  We also stopped and looked at all sorts of bugs and spiders.  Saikam really has an eye for the jungle.  Out of nowhere, he'll stop and point out tiny bugs a good two meters away.  He never manages to miss them.  He also has an ear for the jungle as well.  We too would hear the bird calls or the strange noises, but like the noises in the city you don't really register them.  They're just white noise.  Saikam hears everything though and he can identify it all as well.  Often he'd just stop, and stare and start calling back to whatever it was, sometimes using his hands, sometimes using leaves, and he'd always get a response too!  It was pretty incredible!

Eventually, Saikam stopped, grabbed a balm branch, hacked off the leaves and showed us how to shoot with it.  You basically just hold up your machete, and then chuck the branch against it over and over again, sending the cut pieces wailing throug the air.  Apparently, this is one of the ways that he hunts.  I can't imagine being able to kill a squirrel like this but that's how they learn as children.  Did I mention that I was the only girl with five guys?  Well, needless to say whenever there was a palm close enough to the trail the guys would grab it for some target practice.  They eventually began experimenting with any type of twig or long piece of wood.

After about an hour of trekking we came to a clearing where there were two large elephants.  Riding the elephants is integrated into the trek.  If you didn't already know, two see and possibly ride elephants was right at the top of my list!  We had been hiking up hill and when we got to the top and I looked up and saw two huge elephants I just about lost my mind!  I was so excited!  (Oh, and while we were petting the elephants and waiting the mahouts were also barbecuing up some frog!  It's actually quite delicious!)

Now, the whole elephant thing in Thailand has become a subject of much debate and discussion. Elephants have long been like horses to the Thais and were widely used for logging (which is now apparently illegal).  Elephants are also very sacred animals to the Thais and with the increase in civilizations and the decrease in forrested areas, the elephants' habitat is becoming scarce and many are being deported to zoos and habitats out of the country.  This is a huge issue for the Thais.  A lot of smaller villages have their own elephant, which they have raised from a baby, and to remove these animals from their home is heartbreaking to many.  There is also the problem with the use of elephants for tourism.  The more I read about it the less inclined I was to ride one.  Many establishments take babies away from their herds and are cruel to them and abuse them in order to make a profit off of them.  There are other establishments, such as nature reserves and sanctuaries, that rescue these abused animals and offer people the opportunity to volunteer with them to help in their daily care and become educated.  So, while I was excited about the elephants, I was also skeptical!  One of the girls who had gone on the trek before us was a veterinarian and she said that the elephants seemed happy and was not adverse to their use so I was at least hopeful that these animals were not one of the many who were abused and taken advantage of.

The elephants we were to ride apparently used to work in the logging industry along the border.  They were both branded.  They did not carry chains like some elephants (or like the ones we passed on our way into the mountains) and they were not chained to trees.  These elephants wear bells and are apparently free to roam through the jungle when not in use.  Nevertheless, I felt bad riding them.  The one we were on was 65 years old, her daughter (the other elephant) was 37.  The daughter was led by her mahout who tied rope around her ears.  The mother was not tied but led with a series of commands.  However, though I believe they tried to hide it from us, I did see the mahout shoot stones at our elephant with a sling shot and poke her with sticks when she was being stubborn.  I also felt terrible that she was carrying three of us, plus our bags.  It is hard to judge however.  If you think about it, elephants are more or less used in the same way we use a horse.  We reign and saddle a horse and ride it for long periods of time, sometimes with two people, and an elephant is certainly much large and much stronger than a horse.  Some people still use whips or spurs and no one calls them cruel.  Neither do they frown on the us of a horse to till farms or transport heavy loads, so why do I feel bad about it when they do the same to elephants?  While getting to meet them was the most amazing experience, and being able to ride the elephant was also quite an experience, part of me feels guilty.  It was quite rainy and quite muddy and the elephants were sliding all over the place.  There were a couple of times when we thought we were going to fall off.  Saikam says that elephants never fall down, and maybe they don''t, but the mud sure was deep.

In any case, I was sorry I didn't have any fruit or anything to give the elephants.  Some sort of offering to show them I appreciated their carrying us.  I did stand and pet them for as long as I could and while it rained I tried to scrub her head and rub behind her ears (apparently they like that kind of thing).  They are so large, and yet so gentle and they really are a remarkable animal.  I just hope I wasn't contributing to the abuse of those amazing creatures.  (If you ever come to Thailand, do your research and get informed.  Read the reviews and find out what sorts of feelings people come away with before you decide to take part.)

So we rode the elephants for an hour through the pouring rain.  Our old lady definitely couldn't see well because she'd come within an inch of a tree before going around it.  Thankfully, it had more or less stopped raining by the time we were done and we continued by foot.  Quite shortly after, we arrived at the "jungle camp" where we would spend our first night.

The jungle camp is established at the homes of a Karen family living in the jungle.  (The Karen are the largest minority group living in the mountains.  Many are refugees from Burma, but the ones we stayed with are of the Thai Karen.)  The camp is amidst their rice farm and has an amazing view of the valley and in the distance the Thai/Burmese border.  We arrived around 5pm, and after removing our sopping wet socks and shoes we all began carving away at pieces of wood Saikam had cut down for us.  Our goal, to make slingshots.  Some of us fared better than others, some of us had sharper knives than others, and after Saikam put on the finishing touches we were armed and ready.  The boys got to target practice right away, shooting at an empty beer can.  I proceeded to try and carve the word Thailand into mine!

After target practice we all participated in preparing dinner (the general idea of the trek is to function as/with the community).  Darren and Jack peeled and cut carrots, Tom crushed garlic, Kallen cut cucumbers and I chopped long beans.  While some of the guys went out for more target practice, I helped Saikam make some curry and as we finished preparing the dishes the guys set the table, or rather the floor.  The food was amazing!  Before coming to work for the trekking company, Saikam apparently used to work as a cook.  With his knowledge of the jungle, I think Saikam could make you a gormet meal even without obtaining vegetables from the market.  The herbs, the lemon grass, and the chili sauce he makes!  The flavours are amazing, and there was so much food!  Even with five growing boys we couldn't finish it all.  Mmm!  So good!  We stuffed our faces and enjoyed some good herbal jungle tea by candlelight.  All you could hear up in those mountains were the sounds of the frogs and crickets in the rice paddies, and all you could see were hundreds of stars!  It was absolutely beautiful!

That night Saikam and one of his friends took us hunting.  Geared us with machetes and slingshots and a couple rat traps we went in search of prey.  We walked for quite a while but because of the rain a lot of the animals go into hiding; not to mention the sound of seven guys trudging throught he bush.  Saikam's friend also brough along his 60 year old musket.  The most we saw was were some bugs and lizards and a flying squirrel, but it got away.  Saikam was pretty disappointed that we couldn't catch anything.  He really wanted to show us some good hunting.  The boys were all a little anxious to shoot their slingshots though and so when we stopped to set the rat traps (which we forgot to go back for the next morning) the boys did their part to disturb the night's silence.  Tom was lucky enough to get to shoot the musket.  No one was expecting it to be as loud as it was and he said that the ringing in his ears didn't stop for a good ten minutes at least.  On our way back through the rice paddies to the camp, Saikam's friend stopped to entice a large tarantula out of its hole.  Not only was it at least the size of my hand, big black and hairy, but it was also a "cobra killing" tarantula!  One the upside, chances are that if these things are in the area there aren't many cobras.  On the downside, if it can kill a cobra you're not going to do too welll if you're bitten either.  As Saikam said, "If you get bit by one of those you don't get to call your mom."  Eek!

The next morning I was the first one up.  The villagers had been up since three but the mountains were still super quiet and peaceful!  There was a light mist over the hills and mountains and the view was incredible.  I washed up in the makeshift shower hut, splashed my face and arms with the cold mountain water and sat by the fire until the boys woke up.  They were cooking rice in a pot with all the trimmings from the vegetables we had eaten the night before and a number of the guys had noted how good it looked and thought we were having that for breakfast.  Turns out that was the pigs food!

Just outside of our sleeping quarters was a large wooden table with benches down either side of it.  This is where we ate breakfast.  Saikam prepared omelets for us and sliced pineapple and watermelon.  We had to prepare our own toast.  He brought what is basically a cemented pale out with coals and we each toasted four pieces of bread strapped to rods of bamboo.  It was more toast and more food than we could eat but we did our best, and with fully happy tummies we were in for a long day.

We got going at about ten or so and hiked through the rice fields.  The views were amazing.  I got behind quite a few times stopping to take pictures, but we stopped so often to smell leaves, bark and look at the various bugs that it was never difficult to catch up.  Wild chestnuts also grew everywhere and they made a nice snack along the way.

At one point, we came to a type of bog.  I was the last one (always behind) and watching everyone try to feel their way across was hilarious.  Saikam went first and did his best to lead everyone through the least muddy bits, but Tom still managed to get sucked in up to his ankle and I definitely alomst fell in.  (All our shoes and socks were so wet and muddy they'll never look or smell the same again!)

We hiked for quite a bit that day and saw lots of cool plants and bugs.  We even saw another cobra killing spider and Saikam did his part to harrass that thing quite a bit.  The one I took pictures of was only a baby and it was still huge!

Just before stopping for lunch, we stopped to make chopsticks!  I made my own chopsticks.  Not like it's hard, but it's still pretty coold!  When we stopped in a little clearing for lunch, Saikam thought it would be a good time to let the rest of us hav a try with the musket.  I declined, but the boys each got a turn shooting at either a can or a bottle.  Loaded with buckshot it was hard to miss.  We were supposed to be doing some hunting as we went however, but I think the musket probably scared away anything within a 10km radius!

We stopped a lot, and on our next stop Saikam's friend left into the bushes and came back with a huge piece of bamboo.  He and Saikam went about making dinner ware for our breakfast in the next village.  Out of bamboo Saikam made everyone a cup and butterknife, and even made me a fork!  The man's a genius!  I am now equipped with full eating artilary, all made of bamboo!  You can even cut a foot long piece of bamboo in half to make a plate/bowl to eat out of!

The true hunting enthusiast that Saikam is, we did eventually manage to find something to hunt.  Saikam stopped to kick a tree and sure enough, a young flying squirrel was living in it.  His friend eventually blasted the top of the tree with the musket but nothing came out.  As he was reloading the little thing climbed out of the top, spread it's little wings and flew off.  Most of us hoped that that was the end of it, but once he was reloaded, Saikam's friend pursued his prey.  We were all just standing around, sure that it was a lost cause, when BANG!  That sound really is defeaning.  We still couldn't imagine that he could catch it, but he did.  He came back holding the tiny thing with its tiny hand between his thumb and forefinger.  At first I thought it was dead but it was not.  It was shot in the wing and was clearly shocked and frightened.  When I saw it begin to breathe, Saikam held its neck in his hand and strangled it before snapping its neck.  I couldn't watch!  For the people who live in the mountains, this is survival and I respect that.  But the thing was so cute and I felt bad for it.  He passed the dead squirrel to Darren (who accepted reluctantly) and then strung its neck through the zipper loop on Darren's pocket.  He was obligated to carry the squirrel on his hip all the way to the next village.  I refused to stand anywhere near that side of him.

We eventually arrived at the next village.  The village was another Karen village consisting of 7 families.  The way they live is amazing.  As Saikam puts it "they live with the jungle.  There is no fighting between animals and people, just sometimes between the dogs."  It really is a community in every sense of the word.  There is one communal kitchen, one communal store house, and two bathrooms/showers.  The pigs, cows and chickens live under the houses and roam the area as they will (except for some fat pigs who have to be tied up).  The village and the people are beautiful and being able to stay amongst them is amazing.

After everyone took a nice refreshing, cold shower we just sort of lounged around and rested.  I watched a lady prepare food for her pigs and my goodness were they hungry.  I'm sure they could smell it right away because chaos broke out amongst them.  They started trying to climb her laddy and making all sorts of noise.  As she was carrying their troft down she had to kick them down to keep them from climbing up her legs.  They went absolutely mad!  It was hysterical!  Her son watched us watching and stared amusedly.  We had come prepared with candy, pencils and stickers for the kids and we gave him a few souvenirs.  Later, we saw him walking around all night and all day with his pencil!  He was cute!

After cooking, mingling with the locals and trying some betel nut, we ate yet another delicious meal by candlelight!  We also cooked and prepared our squirrel which yes, I was brave enough to try.  I think Tom ate the brain but I only tried a leg and a bit of tail.  The meat itself actually wasn't that bad.  Saikam says, "Never try, never know.  Never drink, never drunk.  Never smile, never be happy!"  So I had to try!  We spent that evening playing Thai and Israeli variations of some game where you can't show your teeth.  I was pretty bad at this game and kept laughing.  I was penalized by having my face marked with charcoal!  I had clearly lost on all accounts!  Saikam has another saying to the tune of Bob Marley, "No woman no cry.  No whisky I die".

The next morning was an early one.  Another big breakfast and thank-you to the people and we were off to the last leg of our journey.  The hike wasn't long.  We even had time to stop while Saikam made us all pendants out of mahogany.  We were picked up by the truck in a more modern village and dropped off at the river.  From there we rafted part of the way back.  We were each given a bamboo pole with a guide in front.  I almost lost my pole a couple of times, and Yonathan got his stuck in a tree and lost it.  We got stuck in some shallow water at one point and the guide had to get out and push us, turning us around and putting me in the back.  I tried to push us away from some rocks but ended up swinging the back end around and turning us 180 while moving through some rapids.  We went right under a low hanging tree and had to lay flat against the raft to avoid collision and more Yonathan was constantly attacked my trees and branches hanging over the river (he was in the back).  Once we cleared the trees free of harm in the front, our guide would look back and chuckle as Yonathan tried to dodge the branches.  When we nearly got our heads taken off by trees our guide just chuckled, and when we almost missed our docking point our guide just chuckled!  He was the cutest old man!  We rafted down the river for about an hour and it was a blast.  The views were beautiful and the water was nice in the hot sun.

After lunch on the bank of the river we took a very bumpy and windy road to a waterfall.  I was nauseous for most of the ride and definitely almost lost my lunch.  The 500 meter (realistically 1km) hike to the fall was difficult as the ground was still spinning.  It was totally worth it though.  The waterfall was beautiful and the water cold but not too cold.  The pressure pouring down on you was intense and the boys would stand under in what they called a "waterfall massage".  We enjoyed a good swim, washing up and cooling down before heading back into the city.

It was an amazing and packed couple of days!  It's been super hot out today and what I wouldn't have given to be swimming in that waterfall or sitting on a porch overlooking lush, green rice paddies.  We had a great group of people and though expensive, Darren and I really enjoyed the experience.  Being able to get out of the city, mingle with the locals, and learn about the jungle was just about priceless.  On the one hand it was disappointing we didn't see more wild life, but maybe that was a good thing.  We did come across a cobra briefly, which I missed and am not sorry for it.  In a couple more days we'll be in the jungle again and I can't wait!  Sorry this post was so long but I must warn you that there are just as many pictures!