slacking is hard work

sit with my laptop in a pathetic jail cell of a room with the buzz of a thousand street sellers below. But while im not technically working, a lot does get done in a day. woken by alarm at 730, just enough time to guzzle the all u can eat dollar breakfast, find out im an hour too late for the boat, but catch a bus to the town of battambang 4 hours away, stroll around in the heat of the day, hiding behind cheap imitation ray-bans, but wishing I had a ten gallon hat to give me some proper shade.

while i drink some juice right out of a large green coconut, its top macheted off, i ponder whos responsible for the ridge in the neck of a bendy straw that allows you to point it in your direction instead of craning your neck. sure, if i had wifi, i might have looked it up on wikipedia and known the answer to this pressing question in a moment. might possibly suffering from a little heat exhaustion or dementia.

attempts at conversations with a couple of monks, who obviously believe in keeping their skin soft and beautiful, they sport umbrellas color coordinated with their simple orange frocks.

Signed up for a cooking class tomorrow at a place called smokin’ pot. Cute right? pol-pot was the first thing that came to mind before I got the more obvious reference. I don’t believe we will be preparing any dishes with "special" ingredients, but we will visit the market and purchase all materials required, and eat what we make. "happy" shakes, brownies and ommeletes are available, for those who rather consume their cannabis rather than smoke it.

lunch at a café that must be in the guide books, its tables constantly taken by foreigners. Food was good, cheap no inedible gross bones or necks or feet. their big draw is certainly the shake bar. At least 30 types offered including every mix of tropical fruit, the dreaded and foul smelling durian or black coffee with milk. 75 cents.

exhaustion sets in as the sun sets even though its only 630 pm. a shower restores enough energy to get me back out the door for a bit of dinner. its also something of a minor celebration since ive changed the outfit ive been wearing for at least 3 days, possibly longer. im out of clean clothes, so hand-wash is in order, but my room doesn’t even have a sink, just a floor level cement basin by the toilet with a plastic pan, used to flush manually every time you use the loo. Not something u want to put my clothes in, and then actually drape them on your body.

Land mines, malaria and other things to avoid here

pretty unlikely that theres many buried in the cement jungle that is pnom penh, but up north, chinese mines were planted by Vietnam along the 700 km of the Thailand–Cambodian border. More russian made mines were laid by the Cambodians when the Vietnamese withdrew, and then a bunch more as recent as the mid nineties to fight the Khmer Rouge near Pol-Pots home town, the threat of coming home in a wheel chair takes it right off of my to do list.

is the house Hitler or other world class murderers were born in tourist destinations of sorts?

So today im checking out the remains of an old station that does not seem like its seen a train since the seventies. at that time, all life stopped dead when cities were emptied and millions were moved into the rice fields in an ill formed plan to switch to an agriculture based economy. I explore around the abandoned over grown tracks, and the empty rail houses and the little alleys between them make up a sad little inner city slum. Generally speaking, roads this well traveled are safe, since they see constant traffic, but then it occurs to me that while these guys may not set off a 20 year old mine, since theyre ever so little and weigh less than my shoulder-bag, im beginning to regret having that extra helping for breakfast. “you could have stopped with a bowl of muesli-but NOOOOOOOOO, you had to pile on the fruit, and baguette and...” john belushis voice berates me.

In general, I avoid unpaved roads, and when not possible, trying like someone with that brand of autism to keep my feet constantly on the tire tread cut by the last moto that covered this route. If they didn’t set off explosion underfoot, I should make it out with my nuts intact.

The rule of what to do if you find yourself in a minefield, is NOTHING! Call for help, they say. Well tell me this: who the fuck do you suppose is gonna come in after you? so unless you can retrace your steps, the only sure places you know that wont set off a charge, is where your nervous feet are currently planted. Realistically, youd start to cramp up in 15 minutes or so.

so while i can make an effort to avoid mine fields, getting bit by mosquito’s is impossible to avoid. you sleep under a mosquito net, but its not like they make a suit of the material, and if they did, you wouldnt look particularly stylish, which is what really matters. malaria dengue fever are no party, but the worst is Japanese encephalitis, which affects you like mad cow. Come to think of it, my head does hurt, but its mainly in the sore spot where Ive repeatedly clocked it on something low. small people these Cambodians.

Go greyhound

Different country, same story. If you want to add some excitement and possible danger to your travels, a sketchy place the world over is always the bus station. As the bus pulls in, a throng of dudes with motorbikes and tuk-tuks and poorly designed accommodation pamphlets harass you until you duck into the crowd. Need hotel sleep? go killing fields? At night time, its the same aggressive salesmen, tho the offerings differ: you boom boom girl? Shooting gun you? want get high? While a ride on a motorbike is plenty cheap, the last thing you want is any “help” choosing a hotel, which means he takes you to some crappy spot that pays him a commission. A sprawling market provides an easy getaway.

so happens, im pretty expert at finding flea-bag accommodations on my own. Even though ive left my entire pack in Phnom penh, traveling as light as you possibly can with a 17” laptop. shoulder bag contains just 2 pair underwear, 2 t-shirts, toothbrush/paste, travel guide and a jumble of power cords required to charge all electronic gizmos, but is still weighty, so I knock on the first place, the moon guest house. On the third floor single rooms are the size of prison cells, and ambiance is just a notch above, but it overlooks the 50s era market building, the clock is permanently set at 2:05 pm. Cost of my room, $4. view from my window: priceless.

I guess this is why tourists to nyc cluster around times square, or even pen station, musts to avoid for any city dweller. They must think the traffic jams and mayhem is just the atmosphere they were expecting from all the Crocodile Dundee or You’ve Got Mail lame portrayals of NYC, a place where cab drivers who sound like the Sopranos converse by shouting one to another over a chorus of honking, while the traffic is at a permanent standstill.

Sharing is caring.

I offer up some French bread, slightly glazed with something sweet, so its more like a breakfast pastry, to the young girl next to me. She returns the favor by offering me her can of, well im not sure what it is, but the French says boisson au melon. I pull out the fresh dragon fruit, papaya, pineapple and watermelon left over from breakfast. At a rest stop she returns with some kind of dried beef snack, so I produce a big bag of sesame encrusted peanuts. Before getting off the bus, she takes it up a notch, giving me a furry thing, something like a rabbits foot. kind of a sick gift that im surprised its still found in American giftshops. You wouldn’t say, heres a cats foot, or remember our dog?

With nothing left in my bag to produce, I take her photo and offer to email it to her. I put a piece of paper in front of her with a pen and she gives me her phone number. Misunderstanding, or does she not have email? I give her my yahoo address in hopes that she will get in touch so I can send her this image. Her name was Punay, but pronounced with that weird buh sound thats in every word.

getting fleeced

Though it happens quite frequently, everything is so cheap in Cambodia that even the rip offs are ridiculously small time. Top tourist activities like seeing the countries number one attraction, the mother of all temples in Cambodia, Anchor Wat will set you back a Jackson. I don’t know how that compares to our national treasures, Disney and Universal Studios but its probably a months wages for a local person. Mind you, I don’t believe locals pay. This sort of blatant price discrimination is accepted here, and its hard to get upset that your asked to pay a little extra. you figure, they need the money more than we do.

That said, the boat trip to see floating villages was one of the bigger scams Ive fallen for. when they told me the boat ticket was $25, that seemed absurdly high. Other tourists were paying the same amount and there was a vaguely official looking ticket, but this is about a weeks accommodation (in crummy places most people might not consider adequate,, but still) Could it be that much? You could just turn around and say screw this, like I certainly would if I was to stumble on the metropolitan museum of art on any day other than when its pay-as-you-wish, but when your flight here took almost 17 hours you tend to cave. This reasoning probably costs tourists billions of dollars annually. after boarding my cute boat which could easily seat 6-8, it pulls away with me as the loan passenger. Oh, I see, ive just rented the entire boat. while the driver and his tour guide host were all smiles, and let me drive the antique thing most of the way there, much to the envy of all other tourists returning that weren’t at the helm of their very own longboat, they all probably split the rental fee.

Chances are, people living in these villages would hardly want boat loads of white people with cameras worth more than all their worldly possessions ambling into their rickety water borne houses, but still, it would be nice if you saw more than the ridiculous floating gift shop: a collection of crappy paintings, useless trinkets, and poorly treated crocodiles on display in a small swampy pool, white people with their pasty legs in a big glass tank full of fish that massage crusty feet by eating the dead skin,. After this complete tourist trap. we re-board on our way to an elementary school. At a stop to the local store on the way there, I am persuaded to buy some candy for the kids and am overcharged by an amazing 800%. The con cost me all of $3, so its not a massive loss, but sucks that my moto driver, earned the same 3 notes for the 30 minute drive there, a couple of hours wait while I did amazingly touristy shit, and then the fearful ride back home in the dark, since so many vehicles lack what we pretty much take for granted at home: headlights.

Chasing the bus

This morning on the moto (motor scooters that taxi you around) the driver motions to me that the bus that just passed us on the way to the terminal was the one i was meant to board. wasn’t certain what would await me when we get to the station. A slew of busses with destinations listed in one foot high letters of an alphabet I will never understand state their destinations, but im clueless. A very animated guy sells me a ticket, hands my driver some payoff money, who then turns the bike around until we catch up with the bus, which stops on the side of the road to pick me up. Kind of handy when you run late as often as I do,, but they did gouge the fare: local passengers paid half for the 4 hour ride to battambang.

finally, some night-life

NOT a gay bar we were assured, just a bar where gay people go.

Really? The blue chili doesn't need the big rainbow flag that hangs in front. The owner, our waitress (a dude, yes, but only anatomically), and a hot 6 ft tall Asian chick, with absolutely perfect tits and an adams apple all scream SUPER GAY. Even after knowing, I still couldn't stop stealing glances her way. Man/woman or science exhibit/cyborg as the un-enhanced boys referred to Channel, she sure fills out a low cut dress. All were (lady) gaga to dress in drag on sat night.

While its a shame to miss the show, Im off to siem reap, close to anchor wat, a temple thats meant to be one of the worlds great wonders so it has a lot to live up to. Because of the shit-ton of tourists passing thru and our big fat wallets relative to cambodians, the towns also meant to be something of a party-town. pub st, like 6th street in austin is a must to skip if your a local but white dudes having fun will populate what looked like a bar-hopping mecca: 100s of places with 50 cent beers and no set closing time. word is they also serve a happy pizza, which is to say it has an added ingredient which might normally make you crave pizza.

very third world

bus system in pnom penh? preposterous. proven/efficient method of transport in all other cities the world over. but nope, not here. All transport is done either on the backs of motorbikes, in tuk-tuks, or in a sort of bucket seat on the front of a circus looking platform bike. My host has never taken one without bargaining and I do the same. They ask for $2-3, but never pay more than $1.50 no matter how long the ride is. words cant even begin to describe the mayhem on the road. but lets just say traffic lights are another concept that hasnt quite caught on. or even traffic directions.

Markets are full of good bargains, but you really have to try to avert your eyes while in the food areas, as there are many horrible sites and smells. Unrefrigerated meat sitting out in 100 degree weather, bloodied piles of hacked up fish and chicken.

The old and new mix it up here, so u might see a beautiful boutique, with trendy storefronts of plate glass and the staff inside in the comfort of AC, there are dudes up to their ears in grease, dismembering engines right next door. At another location, bags of old computer parts are piled 20 feet high, shipped here under the guise of bringing (severely outdated) equipment here will somehow help developing countries. three guys are hunched over with hammers, cracking the mother boards up and discarding the plastic, saving the little transistors that must posses some value to someone. Unhealthy working conditions all around, makes you realize how good youve got it in your cushy office.

Kao-San road

I'm sitting at an Indian restaurant on 51st at, a strip of restaurants and cafes in an area lined with guest houses. Although these areas are pretty handy for getting a ticket reservation anywhere, wifi every second place and every business employs people who know enough English that asking for the bill or where to go potty is not met with blank stares, it does feel a bit like time sq. English newspapers and English breakfast are offered, for all of those finding it difficult to trade in their rice crispies for rice topped with crispy fish.

Feeling the warmth and smiles from locals, even if thy are all just trying to make a buck, and the chill from other travelers. why are we all SO embarrassed to be in each others company? With Lonely planet sales in the millions, and all the perfectly rendered knock offs selling on the streets for just $2, what made u think you'd be the only whitey in this off the beaten track destination? Dunno why there isn't more of that knowing nod, or eyebrow raise or flick of the headlights that says, I drive a vw bug, or I'm in the bald mans club too?

To address the looking right thru u going on, I wanna come up with an opener that surpasses their worst fears of being outed as another travel guide toting westerner. Maybe a Tony Danza styled loudmouth dumb-ass. Make certain to interject expressions like "bada-bing", "that's the ticket", "that's what she said" as well as that double click sound old timers mouth while pointing ur figure pistol style at someone. Refer to people as "big guy" or "hey buddy". Force high fives on unsuspecting passers by.
Wonder if it would be possible to dig up with an uncle sam uniform and maybe one of those George w face masks?

leaving civilized world for 3rd world

Another 5 hours hurtling through space in a modified school bus outfitted with rocket boosters that we have somehow convinced ourselves is totally ordinary, and hardly anyone even thinks to put down the in flight mag to witness the miracle and absurdity of aviation. Arrived in Cambodia in one piece, relieved that I can do all future trips round Asia over land or water. Statistically less safe, but despite my love of a world adventure, I am no fun to fly with even after 3 vodka tonics.

As soon as the door is opened and whats left of the conditioned air slips out into the atmosphere, u r immediately aware of how Sticky hot it is. Close to midnight in the best time of year to be here (unplanned to be sure) but if ur not wearing a wife beater and flip-flops u soak thru ur clothes. instantly.

A tuk-tuk driver takes me and my ridiculous bag that weighs in at 18 kilos to the CS hosts house. He lives on the top floor of a walk-up. At least 7 flights, and the stairs are both narrower and steeper than what were accustomed to.

They r gay, Filipino, and have been living here for about a year. We get some beers and shoot the breeze while they give new meaning to chain-smoking. Cheap cigs are 30 cents a pack. They must go thru a dollars worth during our getting to know u. I asked if there's a sizable gay community and the more sarcastic one says, yes, there's ten of us.

One sells ad space on billboards, the other transcribes as well as other odd jobs. We watch starsky and hutch, then a rerun of letterman before I fall asleep. I remind them that im into women but Nod assures me that he won't bite unless I ask him to. CS people are a good bet, and I trust him. Not like I have much of a choice at this point.

you can do it, we can help

It would make sense that in the absence of a home depot, id spend a little too much time in the electrical center, blocks and blocks, winding alley after the next, floor upon floor stuffed to the gills with electronics. No decor to speak of, just boxes full of every imanigable wire/battery/transistor. Reminds me of the hasidic and pakistani dealers who work in grey market goods, sold at a discount because the packaging is in russian and either fell off the ship, or was rejected due to export quotas or whatever. Who cares if its legal, just think about the savings!

Anyway, I was able to find a replacement for the camera charger I accidentally forgot to bring. What r the odds I'd be able to find a thing like this in the states. Sure, it's all on the Internet I suppose, but to actually walk into a shop and have the store employee be able to guide you to all the materials u would need to construct ur own mainframe computer (does this exist anymore) or a nuclear warhead. stirs up the massive geek hidden behind artsy glasses.

wanju-u

Returning to Seoul, I opted for a pit-stop in a college town on the way. Not that there's much chance I will take advantage of the areas party scene, assuming I can find it. I was up at 4:30 am this morn, so as soon as the adrenalin subsides, I'm getting under the covers somewhere. prolly not the night for me to find a karaoke bar with "it's not unusual" or "love shack".

I awoke after a short snooze at the brand spanking new bus station in this city of 300,000. An example of when Koreans totally get the knack of minimalist chic. The bathroom feels more like the standard hotel than a greyhound station. Why is it that in other countries, multiple story shopping malls are built around the bus depot, it's thousands of passengers providing a steady stream of shoppers needing everything from snacks to internet cafes, florists, shoemakers and better retailers. Meanwhile, US bus stations ive been to have had to resort to all kinds of security features, not even geared to possible terrorist attacks, but to just keep the lowly bunch of riders stay in check. Especially now that all internet savvy budget seeking travelers; the last vestige of normals, students, and Dutch au pairs have have switched to Chinatown busses, inner city bus depots resemble plasma centers.

Ask at the bus stop until I find a San-chin University student who speaks a few words in English. I follow him hoping to find a larger concentration of english practicing students and youth oriented businesses around the school. While this system usually works, it's obviously not fool proof. Settle into a chicken restaurant I've seen in other cities. In other words, I'm dining at the equivalent of poppeyes, or maybe koo-koo-roo. U really cant use the, "it's full of locals, so it must be good" method of choosing where to go.

Their main dishes are hot pepper red, and the waitress talks me out of ordering what looks like the best dish, conveying with body language that it's just too hot. I don't argue and order something less dramatic. It comes with a bowl of daichon floating in sweet pickling juice, and a bowl of the local equivalent of potato chips-some kind of rice rings. Hardly the spread of a more than a dozen side dishes that accompanied last notes dinner, but how can u eat that much on a regular basis? The plan is to come home healthier/thinner.

So much for finding it easier to find communicate in a youth-centric area. Could not for the life of me get the waitress to understand my simple request that i wanted a drink to accompany my dinner. Are my charade skills so awful, or does the international sign for guzzling a bottle not convey the desired hoppy beverage?

a little history

Met an middle aged dude waiting for the bus. 54. Kinda wierd that this is closer to my age than women I include in my dating pool. Guys got a sister in Wisconsin, son in vancouver and wife used to live in LA. He invites me for drinks at an old-timers joint near his place. He orders several bokolis, which is a milky slightly carbonated whisky drink. It's light when we enter the hole in the wall that looks less like a business, more like one of those Italian clubs frequented by mafioso, that you used to see in little italy before it got renamed Nolita. Can they actually make a living selling a bunch of their cronies booze? Guess it depends on how much the geezers put away. They cooked up a bunch of fish, sardine like things that were tasty, though u have to ignore their poor fried heads. Some gristly fatty meet too, with Chinese cabage and some dark purple sauce to dip it in.

But its not all whisky and bbq, i do a few touristy things. Visit a big US warship and north Korean submarine in a display named Unification Point. It's basically a big f u to their northern neighbors who are clearly still a threat. The entire gorgeous coast is behind barbed wire, and under surveillance by many camoflauged military posts. Flood-lit at night, like a Mcdonalds in poor hood, not as a public service to beach-goers which there are none.

I walked thru both vessels, enticed more by the weird 40's era equipment and less by the huge guns. interesting that drugs and guns are both measured in the universal metric. u could still sit in them like a gunner and crank around to spot enemy airstrikes in the crosshairs. Korean boys and their dads seemed to enjoy this immensely.

While the american warship was retired, the north Korean sub fared less well. All but one of the 25 crew on the tiny subway sandwhich were killed. Soldiers on board the disabled sub killed the crew when it got stuck on the rocks. They tried to make an escape, but all were "mopped out", the official sign proclaimed.

I realized that with my complete lack of understanding of the language around me, I cannot tell a "stop, or we shoot" from a "hi, howaya?". A sign on the coast might have read, "next gas 200 meters" or "beware of land mines". I proceded gingerly. At the temple up ahead, did the sign say "ticket office", or "must wear long pants".

karaoke=nightlife

Been here most of a week but have not had any late nites yet. I know I'm in Asia, so I should do like the Romans and love singing while the lyrics play over video images that are in not even remotely related to the tunes. It's likely that there will be English tunes in any adequately stocked dj's collection. Surely the classics: Presley, NY NY, and material girl. Quite frankly, I'm just a lil hesitant of entering most of the places I see. All are pretty obviously marked with blinking lights strobes, black-light or other attention getters, but none are at ground level where you can peer in and see if you like the scene. Theyre either in the basement or on the 5th floor of an otherwise vacant office building. Crime doesn't seem like an issue here, but getting in an elevator to find a club that u cant hear from the outside seems a little sketch.

Basically, I push dinner about as late as I can, because it's the lastthing I'm able to do in a day. Especially, if it's a Korean BBQ. After polishing off as many as 15 side dishes of this and that kind of kimchi, seaweed, and pickled stuff, who has energy left. I could try to watch my budjet and go for something in a bowl with noodles for under a fiver, but I figure I've gotta get in as much of the glorious tradition that eating is here. Of course, since its cooked by me, just how authentically Korean is that?

going coastal

Left the picturesque fishing town of sakcho, heading south and leading me away from me the beautiful snow capped mountains that are north Korea. Can only imagine its frikin freezing there, with the usual shortages of raw materials & erratic utilities that u expect in communist countries. Pity, far better system in theory, if only it ever worked. As a foreigner, you can cross into a no mans land between north and south korea, but you need to bring your passport, and sign paperwork absolving south korea of any liability should military action ensue while you are there. No thank you.

I opted for another coast town, where while it's off season, i still figured it would be a central feature. But just try finding the stuff! U'd think there might be a single sign. After walking for what seems like miles, I cornered someone, who tho they couldn't speak my native tongue, could grasp the childish drawing I made of a land mass waves and a compass, and was able to direct me east. Hopped the next bus heading in that direction and amazingly, it took me where i wanted. Last stop was a small bus depot about as close the water as u can get. Through the small window above the mens room urinals, I could see the waves crashing against the shore with "more intensity" (yes, the dreaded movie reference, referring to the photo shoot scene in lost in translation). The ocean soundtrack only helped the pee run freely, not that this is an issue. Yet. I turn 45 in a a little over a week, so it will be interesting to see which part breaks next.

So this is clearly no swimming beach. The big draw seems to be walking hand in hand with your cherry blossom and coffee drinking is taken very seriously. Vending machines sell dixie cups for about 35 cents are everywhere, and most of the older men can be seen with thesethimble sized containers. Women on the other hand prefer the good stuff, at 10 times the price. apparently, I fall in that category, following the heady aroma of coffee roasting to a place called coffee cupper. None of the fancy artistry in the frothy milk that so many places do now, but its a perfectly adequate latte, allowing me to overlook the really crappy and inconsistent decor.

Interiors are generally not Koreans strong suit. Here and there are some amazing futuristic modern things that dont resemble buildings so much as transformer toys. In general, architecture is hideous. Buildings look like are designed on the back of a paint chip at the hardware supply. Equal parts whatever materials are readily available mixed with a heavy dose of glitzy/tacky. Ionic columns and tinted plate glass windows plus gaudy decorative brass railing. Wood decking is all the rage, even if uve got no reason for it. Stores on the street with no available space in front will install a six inch wide decklet, basically an unnecessary stair. Or face their front with it.

zen luxe

if i could upload some pix, id love to show how minimalist swank this room is. a splash of lime green glass is the headboard for my lovely bed with pretty pink floral bedding on a multi tiered wooden platform. the sheets and pillow cases embroidered with the name hotel drama. i just watched some crap american tv on a large flat screen tv while in a metalic jacuzzi bath for two. satin asian style robes for lounging in, though i just climbed back into the dirty jeans, underwear and sox ive been wearing for a couple of days. decidedly more upmarket then im used to.

lost in translation

really. there are few things i understand about the place in which i travel. nor can i convey the simplest need. like for a napkin when theres food all over my fingers and face. you wouldnt think it would require too much miming.