One night in Bangkok

I have been trying my best to post our adventures in order, but alas, I've fallen so far behind that it's just not going to work. Sorry KL and Penang, but you'll have to wait until I can get back to you. Right now, it's time for Bangkok!

Malcolm and I touched down last night at 7pm local time. After clearing customs and gathering our things, we became the true backpackers we'd prepared to be for this month. Luggage on our backs, adventure on our minds, and excitement in our hearts, we jumped on the train into the city and to our hotel. We passed through city security checks, tapped tokens, inserted others, wandered and rode until we were vomited out into the heart of Sukhumvit at Asok station.

We were greeted with high-rises, sky-scrapers, and bright building signboards. Traffic flew by at break-neck speeds on 6-lane streets where motorbikes, cars, buses, trucks and taxis deftly avoided yet moved along with each other. Seasoned veterans of the city dared to jay-walk across the sea of vehicles, somehow deciphering the traffic lights (of which there were many of in each direction) and detecting just the right sized gaps in the flow of cars in order for them to casually stroll across to the other side as though they hadn't just taken a gamble with life. We left the gambling to the residents and instead tested our patience at the crosswalk lights which turned out to be broken anyway.

Malcolm leading the way, we wove our way down the sidewalks, finding ourselves avoiding not only other pedestrians, but sidewalk bars (complete with bar stools for patrons to rest upon), hawker-stalls, stray cats. Knowing we had to make a right turn sooner or later, Malcolm picked sooner when we came upon an arrow shaped sign directing us to do so. The sight to greet us was almost overwhelming.

From between the stark sky-scrapers and office buildings erupted a neon cacophony of sights and sounds and smells. Blinking lights, arrows, signs and women welcomed us and invited us to join them for happy hours at places like Deja Vu, Rawhide, Lucky Star, and Insomnia. The advertisements promised live shows and girls, girls, girls, and as proof, the patios, front steps, and streets were teeming with them. Skirts were short and heels were high. The girls cooed and catcalled at Malcolm as he walked a few strides ahead of me.

By the time I caught up to him, the girls left him alone and instead turned their attentions on the plentiful ocean of foreign men milling about the streets, checking out what each establishment had to offer. I wasn't the only girl on vacation on the street - those of us who weren't working were easy to identify by our shorts and sundresses which seemed conservative compared to the status quo. But on that lively street, workers, watchers, and passers-by were all having a good time - the intensity of the lights, the pounding bass of the music and the assault on the senses pretty much guaranteed it.

After finding our hotel (the Tai-Pan hotel) we ditched our baggage and headed out for our favourite travel past time - food. Barreling back down the neon gauntlet of promised pleasure (which turned out to be named Soi Cowboy or Cowboy side street) we made our way to a noodle stall that we'd noticed earlier. Placing our order with the owner/operator, we found ourselves a seat at one of the tables with plastic chairs that lined the sidewalk and waited for our dinner. When it arrived and we had our first taste, it was like a little bit of heaven in that bowl. Noodles, meat and broth with a little bit of greens (pictures to follow soon) and our first meal in Bangkok was simply delectable and at 60 Baht a bowl, cost us $2 CAD for the two of us.

Hand in hand, appetite sated for the meanwhile, we strolled off into the night having been warmly welcomed by Bangkok already.

It is forever

A walk, a bridge, a question...to which my answer was "yes."

November 24, 2011 - Penang, Malaysia

I cried through the entire thing.

On the topic of TP

A while ago, I made a comment about the Travellerspoint icon shortening their name to just "TP" and it referring to toilet paper instead of their site name (I was in another rather goofy mood that night).  If I could access the website, I'd post the following there as a warning, but alas, I can't.  Be forewarned, it's VERY TMI.

So.  For the most part, I've been living quite the sheltered bathroom life here in Malaysia.  I knew since touchdown at KLIA that squat toilets existed here in the city, but was either fortunate enough to find a seated toilet or was able to hold it until I could use the facilities at home (if it meant not having to squat, I could definitely put up with wet feet in the potty).  Even in Japan I employed this same tactic and survived the entire trip without giving my quads a workout.

But then...

Taking TP for granted
One of the first nights we were in KL, we met up with some of Malcolm's friends for mamak (coffee) while I was still embarrassingly jetlagged.  So much so that I forgot to pee before going out for drinks and munchies.  For the first hour, it was fine.  We ate, drank and chatted (well, the boys chatted, I stared blankly as I valiantly fought off the Lag) the time away.  Then the Lag was put off a bit as my senses told me I had to wake to action.  I had to pee.

At first, I tried to hold it.  We were at a semi-decent establishment, but half of it was still open-air and that wasn't promising.  Finally, I couldn't wait any longer and got up to find the bathroom.  Malcolm offered me change and tissues, but I optimistically waved them off.  Following the signed directions, I found my way and opened the door.

Ugh.

For some reason, even without a shower in there, EVERYTHING was wet.  Toilet seat, floor, hose, sink, everything.  "That's okay," I thought, "I have shoes on, and I can hover over the seat."  But then I noticed: no TP.  Dammit.

Usually by then, I'd just give up and go back on my merry way to find the next or to wait it out, but there was no more room to wait.  I found my way back to the counter and asked, "tissue?"  A man disinterestedly pointed at the wall where I found a tissue dispenser there.  I pulled as many tissue tickets as I could without being distracting and headed back to the task.  It was after I finished and high-tailed it out of there that I grumbled to myself and wondered why there isn't any toilet paper in the restrooms to begin with?  What did they expect one to do?  Use their hands or something?

Then it dawned on me.  That's what the hoses were for..omg...  This whole time I'd ignored the hoses in the bathrooms, thinking they were in case anyone needed any emergency washing and in this case, they pretty much were.  Ew.

Note to self: bring TP with you always.


Pees are not always free
Breakfast, lunch, and a trip to KL Central Market and it was finally time for a pee break.  Being indoors in a fairly touristy location, I figured the toilets would be a little safer and more up to snuff for foreigners like me.  However, before I could even enter to discover their condition I was blocked by a turnstile.  50 sens, please.

My experiences with paid toilets were much the same with squat toilets - I avoided them as best I could.  But this time we were en masse so it would have been selfish to insist we move on so we had our bills broken into correct change, fed the turnstile, and headed on in.  While this time there was TP available (though you had to ask for it on your way in) and the floors were not wet, there were no seats on the toilet bowls.  Squatting ensued, but at least this time I wasn't afraid to touch anything.

Second note to self:  carrying loose change may facilitate use of facilities.


You can't always get what you want
Our most touristy excursion was one out to the Batu Caves to climb the steps and see the shrines and temples.  Having hydrated in anticipation for the hot day ahead, you can guess that it wasn't long before I had to go.  And it wasn't.  TP in one pocket, change in the other, I was ready to conquer the toilets...until I actually got inside.

Oh no.

They were ALL squats.  There was no escaping this time.  There were no other options and I'd already paid my 20 sens to enter.  It had to be done.  Saving most other details, I will just tell you that I set 2 goals for myself in those moments: don't fall over and don't pee on yourself.

Mission accomplished.

My quads burned but my dignity remained.  I'd never been prouder of myself for going potty since I'd been 3-years old.

Final note to self:  just suck it up, buttercup.  


Since then, I feel like I've graduated to a new class of world traveller; from prissy sitter to seasoned squatter.  However, I'd definitely take dry floors and clean seat ANY DAY.

Eye am looking for a connection

With my travellerspoint connection down yet again (seriously, internet, wtf?) and with FB having trouble with uploading pictures in Chrome, I have found that the only work-around is to use Mozilla to upload with Basic Uploader...5 pictures at a time.  It's been slow, to say the least, but at least I'm still able to share.  Anyway, in my use of Mozilla (and my exhausted goofiness of the evening) I noticed that when the browser's trying search for the site to connect to it (in that moment before it becomes the cyclic green ring), the icon that appears looks like a googly eye.

Like a lazy wandering eye rolling wildly in its socket, this dot just makes its rounds and amuses the shit out of me.  I'd tell you to go look for yourself, but your internet connection may be too fast for you to see it.  NOTHING could be as slow as what we're connected to.  

The extended-extended family

I've met them and I'm in love.

Ginger, the older female of the two, catching some sun.

Pepper, guard dog and alpha male of the three pups.  Loud bark, but not a vicious bone in his little body. 

 Belle, daughter of Pepper and Ginger, who loves Malcolm almost as much as I do.  She faithfully follows him wherever he may be in the house, and if she can't get to him, she'll wait outside the door until she can.

 Baby Mei-Mei who knows no other expression other than smiling.  A beautiful, bouncing baby girl that everyone adores.

Big sister to Mei Mei - she's super shy...for the first little while, and then she'll never get enough of you.

Having made the move to Penang this week, I miss them so much already.

On the market

I love going into stores and buying crap.  I can't describe it any other way.  I love looking at trinkets and souvenirs and stuff like that.  Cheap deals and awesome steals.  Truth be told, I don't BUY that much of it, but I love to see what's out there, food, books, toys, and otherwise.  SO, when Malcolm's brother suggested he take us to the Thursday night market one neighbourhood over, I was ecstatic!

When we first pulled up, we parked at the side of the road a little ways away and walked in.  What appeared over the crest as we neared our destination was titillating.  I was greeted by a bustling block of tents and kiosks and cooking smoke and mouth-watering smells and blinking lights and colourful stalls and piles of fruit and crowds of people and shouts and smiles and...it was an assault on the senses.  A welcome assault.

Having experienced the markets themselves many times, Malcolm et al let me lead the way.  Food dominated the market by far.  We arrived "late" by eager beaver standards and could already see that some hawker stalls were closed, having sold all that they had to offer.  But that didn't mean there was any less to see.

The danger of this night market visit was curbed by the fact that we'd just had a mid-afternoon snack at home (though not necessarily by our choice), but that didn't stop us from getting selections of the best or most curious.

We picked up snacks and food for our after-dinner supper and headed home.  But not without me taking a few choice shots (you might have to click on the panoramics to get a better view).

I love the fact that these markets happen once a week as opposed to at home where they happen once in never.  It's such a captivating hustle and bustle that I know I could never tire of.  Especially not while in good company.

Stop the world...

...I skipped lunch today.

It's true!  Exhausted from the events of yesterday, I came home after a walk and breakfast with Malcolm, and promptly passed out right through lunch until early afternoon.

Now I'm hungry.  :(

I just want to CARE

In light of our travel blog not working, I thought that uploading photos to FB might be the easiest second choice method to share travel stories through pictures.  But alas, I have been foiled again.  I don't know why or how, but after uploading a mere 4 pictures, FB won't let me upload anymore.  It freezes after uploading about 95% of the first picture I chose (according to the status bar, anyway).  I've tried to simplify and just do a SINGLE picture at a time, but to no avail.  

WHY CAN'T I SHARE?!?!?!?

For those of you wondering why I'm not just posting pictures here...it's not that I don't want to, but I love my words here and formatting so that pictures look good but don't take up too much space is a pain in my arse.  However, compared to how much trouble I'm running into EVERYWHERE else, it might not be so bad...

I *heart* Blogger.

Band List

That title should actually read "Banned List," but I have to explain first.

A while ago, Malcolm was super sweet and started a travel blog for us to share our epic trip adventure with the world.  True to form, I started blogging even before we left.  But as we crawled through KL and I posted from there, one morning I woke to find that I couldn't access the site anymore.  I thought it was just a temporary glitch that would work itself out by the evening or the next day.

Not so.

Since last week, I haven't been able to access our blog nor the host site and have left my readers hanging in suspense!  (Okay, no one in suspense except for me.)   To my dismay, Malcolm was also unable to access the site from his laptop too.  No pictures, no posts, no travel advice to or from our fellow bloggers.  I then convinced myself it must have been a problem with the connection at the KL home and that as soon as I was able to steal some wifi from somewhere else, we'd be back in business.

Not so.

We've since arrived in Penang to Malcolm's Penang home and still no such luck.  And it's still the two of us both that can't access it.  He can't even access it from his iPhone.  :(  For the past hour or so, I've been faithfully Googling my way through to a possible explanation, if not a solution to this problem.  What I've found so far is telling me that my IP address has been banned by the site itself for accessing it too often and for too long at a time.  Since Malcolm and I were both accessing it through the same router, we were both banned--his phone probably as well.

It might not be the case, but it's the most plausible one I've come across so far.  One of the forum answers told me "your IP might be listed on the site's BAND LIST which will prevent you from accessing it."  If I was on the "Band List," wouldn't I have backstage access?  :p  The resolution?  Something too far out of reach of my own IT skills.  :(

However, Malcolm is still optimistic that we will be able to log on once we reach a Starbucks or other free wifi hotspot.  I will keep my fingers crossed.  If not, if you're reading this, this will be what you get - sorry about the other blog; if you didn't know about the other blog...well, you're the one with backstage access now.
...

Dear Travellerspoint:

Please unblock me from accessing my own blog...I really want to share!

melody

Get used to it

Lightswitches: down is on, up is off.  Cars drive on the left hand side of the road.  Spicy things are actually spicy.  Motorcycles get to weave through the lanes at will.  TP is not a guaranteed luxury...neither is a seated toilets or a bathroom without an admission fee.  If you're doing laundry, the neighbours WILL see your undies hanging outside to dry.  Malls are triple the size of the typical North American mall but don't play music in the stores...or if they do, there is zero censorship on the gansta rap selections.  Manicures by Asian shops suck.  There are stray cats and dogs everywhere.  Monkeys are not cute and friendly.  The streets are rife with thieves and pickpockets.  Honking the car horn is for FYIs, not anger.

It's taken me a little over a week, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of this country.

Rain, rain, go away

The rain was taking its time to roll in today.  The sky had been dark since noon and there had been grumbles of thunder for hours...but no rain.  Occasional flashes of lightning were glimpsed from time to time, reminding of the impending storm, but it continued to hold off, just taunting its authority.

The weather was just being a bully.

It was forcing the golfers on the courses to speed up their games; it was keeping the curious explorers indoors--trapped without bars.  If I were at home, it'd be boots and a raincoat and no cares in this world.  Boo.

Blown a fuse

No, really.  And actually, I really blew two.

I wanted to dry my hair and plugged my dryer into the plug converter we'd brought.  Didn't work.  Tried the second one.  That one didn't work either.  Turns out that without warning (like a pop or a fizz), my hair dryer managed to kill both travel adapters that Malcolm brought with us.  :(

Lucky for me, he figured it to be the fuse in the converter...a fuse which I hope to be able to purchase tomorrow at the corner hardware store!  Unlucky for me, one of the prongs broke on one of the converters in the middle of investigation.  :(  Perhaps it might still work?

Keep your fingers crossed!  (Sorry, babe...)

The sounding of dawn

Having only just recovered from jetlag and waking up unnaturally early every morning, my groggy consciousness struggled to figure out why it was waking to the theme music of Angry Birds.  My eyes finally fluttered open to find the sky outside still dark and Malcolm's uncoordinately sleepy figure silhouetted against it as he stumbled towards his phone to turn off the animated alarm.  As he flopped back into bed for another 9 minutes of undisturbed rest, I remembered - we were going fishing today.

The damage done, but my body still reluctant, I lay awake in bed.  If the sun was coming up, it was doing so incrementally.  It probably didn't help that I could see it was starting off to be an overcast morning.  I savoured the moment.  In a house of 10 that was next to another house under construction, both being in a neighbourhood full of dogs and stray cats, and all in a country in the beginning of its rainy season, it was a rare moment of serenity.

An uncertain amount of time passed before I was brought out of my own meditation by someone else's.  The voice, low at first, came rising out of the early morning and in through the open windows.  His voice was joined by a second one, so faint that it could have been there the entire time.  The two climbed and fell together, both filled with devotion and dedication that felt as old as time.

Multicultural as Canada is, I had never had the chance to hear this before.  This being my first time in a Muslim country, I had strained my ears for days, hoping to snatch a note of a prayer at any time of the day, and now I had it all to myself.  The muezzin's amplified voice did not sound tinny as I had feared, but rather faint but full at the same time.  The prayers ended a few moments later, but my sense of awe and wonderment lasted the entire morning.

People to see

Waaaayyyyy back in elementary school, I remember an activity where we had to form groups and "invent" a new machine. One group "invented" a machine akin to a PVR for your brain so you could play back things you'd said and seen moments ago. One of those would have been spectacularly useful to me over the last few days--there are somethings...some people I've caught glimpses of that I wish I could have captured on film to share with you.

The Sleeping Salesman
Malcolm wanted to pick up an extra travel adapter so we ventured downtown and to Low Yat plaza--the electronic store centre of the city. Just imagine taking all of the electronic stores you can think of, shoving them all into one building, making the use of neon and LED lighting mandatory, and the putting the whole experience on steroids. Wait, let me show you:

Anyway, amid the unavoidable hustle and bustle to this place, we made our way to the store we needed to get to. I let myself be pushed and pulled along at the breakneck speed of the crowd until I was snapped out of my mindless following. I can see him clearly now in my mind's eye: tall-ish, bowl-cut hair, purple t-shirt (with the company ad on the front), pear-shaped Chinese guy with glasses standing in front of the counter at his store...asleep.

Yes. Standing up, not sitting or leaning, but standing up and sleeping. His head was ever so slightly tilted back and to the side and his mouth was ever so slightly hanging open and he was definitely asleep. I know because I checked. To stop would have been to have lost Malcolm and to have caused pedestrian traffic chaos, so I turned around to walk backwards and confirm with Malcolm's brother (who was following a few steps behind) if I'd seen what I'd just seen. A backwards glance and a doubled-over laugh reaffirmed my sighting.

Excellent.


The Bloated Belly
It was six o'clock in the morning and Malcolm, his brother, and I were already having breakfast at the corner restaurant before our day of fishing. The boys were facing me for the better view of the TV and the football game while I was content to face into the heart of the mainly empty restaurant. As any normal person would do, I was letting my gaze sweep my surroundings as I listened to the brothers excitedly talk about the snakeheads we were hoping to catch.

And then, I saw it.

A couple of tables over and a few rows back, there were Indian gentlemen who had finished their meal and were sitting, enjoy each other's company and the football game as well. Nothing wrong with that. Except that the ONE guy sitting, facing me had decided that he had enjoyed his breakfast so much that instead of undoing the top button of his pants, he was just going to lift his shirt up over his stomach and let his (hairy) belly breathe for a while.

Seriously.

I quickly diverted my eyes and complained aloud to the boys about what I'd just seen. When asked why I was looking there in the first place, I pled the "field of vision" plea but neither of them would turn around to peek and share in my pain, refusing to acknowledge its grossness. But then we had to get up to pay the bill and leave, forcing the two to turn around and share in my misery. We all high-tailed it out of the belly's field of vision in order to do the double-over laugh together.


The Motorcycle Mishap
Though not quite as serious as it sounds, this story is quite straight forward. We were waiting at the intersection to cross. As a crowd amassed around us, the motorcycles amassed at the front of the line of traffic as was customary to see since motorcyclists need not wait in line and can weave their way to the front. We had time to look at them, and they had time to look at us. Or so I thought.

The light changed and we were free to cross in front of their paths. Except for one guy. He crossed...and walked straight into the front tire of the motorcycle (and cyclist) waiting closest to the curb. He was caught so unawares by this collision that he was sent into a full body roll before landing on the crosswalk on the other side of the bike. The cyclist (after he regained his senses from what just happened) moved to help the man to his feet, but ended up staying on his bike as the guy got up and bewilderedly walked away.

"Who put that bike there?"

Too bad the other guy hadn't been wearing a helmet.

RoR

Ever since dimps had this as her BBM picture, I can't get enough of it.  There are a few other versions of it floating around, but I think this one is still the best.

RoR.

The Bathroom

Here’s the confession: I’m weird about bathrooms.  Really I am.

We already know there’s no eating or drinking in there for me.  There’s no drinking water from the bathroom tap either – even if I’m outside of the bathroom.  But there’s more.

When I was little, I was afraid of the flush.  I was afraid of the flush because I was sure that monsters or Bloody Mary herself was set loose by that roaring sound so I always used to make sure that it was the last thing I did before tearing out of the bathroom (don’t worry, I’d wash my hands first—unless it was a public bathroom…but I’d still tear out of the stall to the sinks). 

If I had to pee before showering, I’d also wait until after my shower to flush the toilet.  Half of that was carry-over from being afraid of the flush while the other half was fear the pipes messing up.  What if the pipes got confused and my flush came out through the showerhead instead?!

Pool bathrooms grossed me out.  It was all the wet that was around if you had to go.  The floors were wet, the seats were wet, and then if you’d already been in for a dip, your bathing suit was wet when you took it off and put it back on.   Why was that gross?  How do you know it wasn’t PEE?!

While I’ve outgrown the weird flushing habits (kind of has to happen when you start to share your bathroom with someone else 24/7), the eating, drinking, and over-wetness weirdness has persisted.  Why does all of this matter, you wonder? 

THIS is why this matters.

I encountered this type of bathroom before in Japan but somehow never had to use them while there.  Now it’s my personal en suite here at Malcolm’s family home.  Now EVERYTHING is wet ALL THE TIME.

I seem to have made the adjustment just fine though.  I think the saving grace is that when everything is wet, I know that either Malcolm or I took a shower, and I know that I don’t pee on the floor…and I’m pretty sure that Malcolm doesn’t either.  And if I ever have any doubts, I just try not to think about it. 

Regardless…I always make sure I wipe my feet doubly well on the mat outside the door after I come out of there.

…

Totally unrelated:  I’m watching a kid’s songs CD with the resident 2-year old of the house.  It’s in English with karaoke style lyrics at the bottom for her to follow along.  It’s horrendous.  Absolutely horrendous.  The poor kid who’s doing the vocals is SO Chinese it hurts – he can’t do the Rs in the songs and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what he’s actually singing because while he’s not TOO out of tune, his timing is way off and he misses words.  Poor kid is NOT going to sing these songs right come kindergarten time.  

During the storm

The rain in the tropics is amazing.  I’ve just experienced my first Malaysian rainstorm.  As the clouds rolled in, the family went about getting ready for the storm.  Windows were closed, electrical outlets were turned off, drying laundry was brought in.  And then came the rain.

At first it was the same as any rainstorm I’d experienced at home in Toronto.  The rain came down steadily and very slowly began to cut through the humidity of the last 2 days.  And then it came down a little harder in a steady downpour of sheets like I’d witnessed in the hardest rains back home.  And then the sky opened up and let down everything it had. 

Bucketfuls fell and drenched the world outside.  Running to and from the cars parked close to awnings was futile as the runners were soaked through anyway.  I know my wipers on high wouldn’t have done a thing to clear my windshield if I was driving my Corolla here.

Then the lightning and thunder rolled in—with intensity.  It was so intense that after the first few lightning strikes I found I was bracing myself for the explosions of thunder that followed…I’ve never done that before.   

The rain fell, the lightning flashed, and the thunder rumbled on and on.  Lightning struck nearby more than once and the thunder crashed loud enough to set off car alarms throughout the neighbourhood.  I planted myself on the couch by the open front doors and windows to watch the show.  While I was in awe, everyone else just took it in stride. 

After more than half an hour, the rain began to subside.  Just as it had crawled in, it crawled away and left a sopping landscape and cool breeze as a reminder it had been there in the first place.  I missed it already.

Eating my words

...and they weren't even that good.

My last (poorly written under the influence of jetlag and 32 degree heat) post made fun of Malcolm and of how much food he ate while in his home element. Of course, who is it the VERY next day that crawls up next to a noon-napping Malcolm to whine the phrase "honey, I'm hungry"?

Yeah, that would be me.

I may not have evolved to the point of acquiring the same voracious ability to polish off 5 (small) meals a day, but I'm starting to get hungry when I never was before. To save me the shame of another raggedly etched out post, I'm going to just treat you to all the yummy goodness I've been treated to over the past few days (that I've bothered to take a picture of, that is). MIA are all of the home cooked meals that we've been fed by Malcolm's mom and aunt; I should be able to fix that soon...

Our first meal upon touchdown in KL. Soup, drinks, and a bowl of rice for each of the three of us, a plate of BBQ pork and duck, half a Hainanese chicken, dumplings in soup, and bean sprouts. Devoured in about 20 minutes, this meal for 4 - 5 (though finished between only 3 of us) cost a whopping $20 CAD equivalent. That one was an expensive one. 

After traversing the Monorail to the city centre, we treated ourselves with some HK style desserts. Mine (foreground) was a mango shaved ice with milk and crystal pearls. I think Malcolm had watermelon shaved ice with black grass jelly, milk, and tapioca. MMMMmmmmMMMMMMmMmMmMMMmmm. 7.90 RM each. Do the math. Yup, less than 3 bucks each. Math makes it that much tastier, doesn't it?

To work up an appetite (or not), Malcolm and I have been getting up early every morning and going on walks around the neighbourhood. (Okay, it's probably more due to jetlag and lack of things to do first thing in the morning, but hey, we're out and about, right?) The end of each of our walks has brought us to a restaurant or another for breakfast. Restaurants here are not your typical North American gig. Here, someone owns the property and sells the drinks from a main counter in the back. The rest of the area is taken up by seating and stalls where different cooks make different dishes--your job is to peruse the selections and tell your choice of cook what you would like.

Both mornings so far (and I can't wait for this third one either) we've both ordered drinks, and then 2 dishes to share. Yesterday's meal looked like this:

That spread was 14 RM. OOOOooooOOooOOoh yeah!

After a 2 hour foot massage yesterday, we apparently worked up an appetite for afternoon tea (because Uncle Yi had got us traditional Char Kwei Tao noodles for lunch at home) and promptly sated it at a nearby Indian restaurant with deliciousness that I can't remember the names of--but could pick it off a menu if given the choice... 

The good thing? YUM. The bad thing? They were OUT of Mango Lassi! I can't tell you how disappointed I was. 

I was going to close this entry with the tantalizing tastes of the Pasar Malam market we went to last night, but it's currently 8:45 in the morning and I'm late for breakfast! Be back soon!

Writing to write

How often is it that I find writing daunting (other than when I used to be faced with 30-page essays with 10am deadlines)?  Being on vacation has suddenly made it so.  Emails, blogging, travel blogging, status updates...it's a lot to deal with at once!  And when you throw in jetlag and writer's block too, it's beyond daunting!

I think just blogging here and now is an attempt to talk myself down into some sort of written sense.  Regular blogging will be for fun (and sanity), travel blogging will be to be informative to followers and fellow travelers alike, and emails will be to keep the order away from here.  Oh, and status updates will be for posterity.  Things like: "I ate a breakfast with drinks for 2 for under $5 CAD, bitches!"

Okay, maybe not the "bitches" part.  But things like that.

I think I need a library and Starbucks day.

Wha' happened?

Food happened.

We're here! We're here! 22 hours in transit plus the time from the airport and we made it to KL. How's it been? Full of food.

My first order of business was to learn just how much Malaysians love their food. I should have known that it was always underlying in Malcolm, but I never saw this foodie in him in full force until now. The closer we got to his home town, the more this craving for food emerged. Thank goodness we lost weight before heading here!

It all started at the HK airport. A few hours after being fed an airplane-breakfast in flight (I picked congee which turned out to be quite good), we were deposited in Hong Kong for our 3 hour layover before transferring onward to KL. We took a quick walk through the arrivals wing before determining that everything was closed and not interesting, so we slid on through security to check out the departures side of things. 6 o'clock in the morning and the restaurant stoves were already ablaze with deliciousness.

Of my four or five choices, I forewent the sushi and McDonald's and instead decided on a huge bowl of noodles and dumplings (when in Rome...).

Malcolm, on the other hand, opted for something a little less traditional. I didn't take a picture of it, but he ordered Popeye's Chicken Fingers...with fries...and mashed potatoes...and onion rings.

After chowing down, we strolled around the airport to check it out a little more before heading to our gate. It's a big, beautiful airport, I have to say.

However, not long at all into our exploration, we discovered that we could have had 10 more options of restaurants to choose from had we not jumped at the first bank of retailers we'd come across.

Back on the plane, we were served black bean chicken on rice - I was barely able to finish it having not long ago finished my bowl of noodles, but not Malcolm - he polished that off too (though to his credit, he was too full to finish mine for me). Off the plane, through customs, and whizzing through the city towards home with his brother, I couldn't believe my ears: "Hey, can we stop for food?"

Stop we did.

I didn't manage to get a photo of it before we dug in (the boys much more heartily than me), but I took what I could and it was good enough as what was left was demolished a few minutes later. You could tell by the look on Malcolm's face he was happy to be home.

I think that was lunch--we still managed to have dinner later that night, and then breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack the next day. I have been REALLY lax on the photo taking, but I promise there will be more, just as I have been promised that this is only the beginning of the food to come...

Off we go!

It's ten to one in the morning this fine, November day--we're sitting, waiting for our boarding call at the airport, pumped full of adrenaline and simultaneous exhaustion. I forgot my sunscreen and a hard copy of my itinerary, but hey, those are the things that keep it interesting, right?

I miss you all already--I would have sent some more personalized goodbyes, but my phone just died, of course.

See you on the other side [of the globe, that is]!

< 3

Mo' money, mo' problems

Our upcoming epic trip is to include 6 different countries with 6 different types of currency, each of them ridiculously foreign to me, having never really traveled to Asia before (Japan conversion was a simple 'divide by 100' at the time I was there). I was lost enough having to deal with British pounds--I gave up trying to count my own change and simply held out palmfuls of coins to the retailers to pick and choose for themselves--now I have to deal with Ringgit, Baht, Dong, Riel, Rupiah, and HK dollars! While booking our itinerary through the countries of choice, we've been trying to stay within budget which requires doing a lot of conversions between the currencies to remain within reason. When we start our planning and budgeting sessions in the early evening, it's not too bad.

Malaysia = RM = Ringgit = divide by 3 for CAD
Thailand = THB = Baht = divide by 30
Vietnam = VND = Dong = divide by 20,919
Cambodia = KHR = Riel = divide by 4,000
Indonesia = IDR = Rupiah = divide by 8,770
Hong Kong = HKD = Hong Kong Dollar = divide by 7.6

But then it gets really late at night and your brain stops working.

Jumping from Baht to Dong can really mess with your head. All the extra zeros that suddenly start to appear can be really daunting, especially when your next flight comes up at over a MILLION Dong.

  "Holy crap, baby! Our flight out of Ho Chi Minh is going to be 1,079,000 VND! That's ridiculous!"
  "What is that in CAD?"
  "It's ridiculous! It's...*divide by 30*...oh, wait...*recalculate and divide by 20,919*...oh, never mind. It's $51.57."

And then reading up on travel tips to avoid getting scammed I learned that scams seemed to be par for the course in certain parts of Vietnam. I was looking up stories about how to get from Da Nang to Hoi An by bus and found that every post in the forum I was in had mentions of scams, overpricing, and drivers that would hike up prices for foreigners on a whim. I was starting to get upset to learn that drivers were demanding 10,000 VND for an hour long bus ride that should only cost 7,000 VND. That's an additional 3,000 VND! How could they demand such insanely high prices, above and beyond what is POSTED for the ride?!

And then I did the calculation.

They're haggling over 15 cents?

This is going to be one epic journey.

Return Mail

Dear Universe,

If that was you...thanks, I guess.

...

Glancing at the mail today, I noticed a small envelope addressed "to the resident" of our address.  I asked Malcolm if he knew what it was--he didn't.  So while I opened a bill, he opened the little envelope and card.

Out fell $40.

The card went on to explain that "like last year" this "independent group of environmentalists" was rewarding us for taking "exceptional care of the shrubs and trees" on our property.  I still can't believe this.  I'm still expecting someone to pop out and ask for their money back, or to laugh in my face and ask me if I really believed someone out there was giving away money for free.

But so far, nothing.  Keep you posted.

An unexpected Treat

Our first Halloween in the new house was a little too hectic for us to be able to set up shop and hand out candy.  Malcolm and I were both out running pre-epic-trip errands and didn't get home until trick-or-treating was happening in full swing.  It felt a little weird this year since not only were we not handing out candy, but neither of us had participated in ANY Halloween festivities - I didn't even have the chance to dig out my annual devil-horned headband to wear to work.

Malcolm had gotten home a little before me to give our house-sitter a tour but had had the foresight to keep the outdoor and front room lights off to discourage the candy seekers.  I arrived home around 8 o'clock with my haul of stuff shortly after.

I turned on some lights and threw on some comfy shoes because I had to make 3 trips back and forth from the car before I was finally finished bringing things into the house.  With our front foyer now a chaos of suitcases and a random assortment of "things," I took a moment to stand and talk to Malcolm and our house-sitter.  Not 2 minutes into our conversation, I noticed a little shadow outside the door and the quietest little tapping on the pane.

  "Honey, open the door!  It's a trick-or-treater!"

  "But I don't have candy!"

  "I'll get some, just open that door!"

Malcolm fumbled with the lock while I bee-lined for the kitchen.  I grabbed a stash of candy I knew was there and flew to the front door to dole out a hefty handful into the open and eager bag of the little princess that stood there.

  "Aren't you cute!"

And she was.  We watched her make her way back down our steps to the driveway and continued on her way with her mom before we cut the lights and went back into hiding.

However, I was pleased.  Unbeknownst to that little princess, she just saved my Halloween.